#It looks like one of those tv show episodes where somebody's having a dream that they're in a story

[somegrumpynerd]

Me all day long: hm I kinda wanna draw something but I can't decide what, I have a bunch of stuff I should work on but which one, hm how to decide

Me at 1am: Nightmare and his boys as red riding hood characters speedrun any%

#Charlie Stuff #Why you ask? That's what I ask too #I don't know where this thought came from but now I've done a bunch of doodles for it so #You'll probably see that in a day or two when I get the time to clean them up #It looks like one of those tv show episodes where somebody's having a dream that they're in a story #And all the characters are playing parts #I dunno who would be having this weird ass dream that's for you to decide

[atinylittlepain]

ok so given that the oscars just happened, imagine a joel x actress!reader. before everything went to shit joel was a normal human being who loved watching movies and like any basic person had a celebrity crush. fast forward and the world has gone to shit and joel and ellie (and maybe tommy too) go on a patrol that goes wrong and get saved by miss “i just smashed a guys head in with my oscar” or something like that, just a fluff and fun imagine that isnt gonna break my heart in a million pieces like last nights episode

oh my god, your mindddddd - I love this idea :)

Big Fan

Joel Miller x actress!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

Joel recognizes her right away. After all, she starred in his favorite movie of all time.

warnings | 18+ a little angst, nothing wild, this is fluff through and through

Read part two!

.......................

“Are you–”

“I am.”

“You were in–”

“I was.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” 

“Alright, somebody better start speaking in full sentences, because I have no clue what the hell is going on.” Joel huffs, glancing at Ellie who's looking at him like he’s gone crazy, her gun still cocked at the woman in front of them.

“What? You don’t recognize her, kid? I just showed you Curtis and Viper.” Ellie’s brow furrows, but then she looks back at the woman and her eyes finally widen in recognition.

“Holy shit.” The woman laughs, eyes still focused on the barrel of Ellie’s gun.

“That’s not usually the movie people recognize me from. But I suppose it was my big break.” Joel nudges Ellie, muttering for her to put her “damn gun away, jesus christ,” and she quickly tucks it back in her belt.

He’s trying to not be weird right now, they did just kill five clickers together, but he’s finding it hard not to lose his cool over the woman who had been a silly crush of his since he first saw that cheap action movie as a teenager. He knows she did much better films afterward, remembers hovering behind the couch one night while Sarah was watching one of those awards shows, lingering just a bit longer when he saw her giving an acceptance speech with a blinding smile in a dress that probably cost more than his house. She’s certainly less elegant-looking now, but even after twenty years in a world like this, he can’t help the quick kick of his heart at actually meeting this woman in the flesh.

He clears his throat, also trying to clear his mind.

“Are you alone?” She sighs, wiping the blade of her knife on her jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“I wasn’t, and then I was. We were headed toward a settlement we heard about, I think a bit further north from here?” Joel keeps his expression steady, but can feel Ellie glancing at him. Movie star or not, he knows they have to be careful about who finds out about Jackson. But apparently, this woman isn’t just pretty, and she seems to pick up on the heavy pause after what she said.

“Do you two know about the place I’m talking about? Are we close?” Joel, sighs, looking at Ellie before making a decision that Tommy is probably going to smack him for later.

“We, um– we’re from there, actually. If you’re talking about where I think you’re talking about.” She huffs out a laugh, and offers them that megawatt smile Joel remembers seeing on his TV screen. Ellie, meanwhile, scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at Joel.

“No shit. Do you think you have room for one more?” Joel’s eyes dart once more to Ellie, just seeing the subtle shake of her head, but he chooses to ignore it. How could he say no to the woman who had, embarrassingly, been one of his first wet dreams?

“You’ll have to talk with my brother, but I’m sure you’ll be welcome to stay on.” Megawatt, megawatt, megawatt. He reckons that smile could melt steel beams.

…

“Joel, what the fuck–”

“Ellie–”

“No, what are you thinking? If not Tommy, Maria’s gonna be so pissed she’ll probably cut your balls off.” He shushes the girl, glancing ahead at the woman hiking further in front of them.

“Look, she’s all alone– hardly a threat– and she’s looking for somewhere to stay–” She scoffs.

“Oh, so this has nothing to do with the way your eyeballs practically popped out of your head just looking at her?” He grumbles, hand tightening around the strap of his rifle.

“You just mind your own business, alright? I’ll take care of it.” Ellie huffs, starting to trudge further ahead of him, but not before muttering out “whatever you say, fanboy.” Joel is stunned still by her words.

“Where the hell did you get that word from?” She turns on her heel, walking backwards for a beat as she smirks at him.

“One of those old magazines. Pretty sure she was on the front page if you wanna borrow it.” Before he can get a word in edgewise, she’s already turning back around and continuing their hike back to Jackson.

…

“Holy shit. Joel, look who it is!” Joel grunts, nudging Tommy out of his starstruck stupor.

“Yeah, I know. Just hiked five miles with her.” Tommy laughs, slapping him on the back before grinning at her.

“It’s real nice to meet you. You know, Joel here had your poster on his bedroom wall–” The nudge he gives his brother this time is a little less friendly, causing Tommy to grumble and rub his arm. She, however, takes it in stride, laughing lightly as she shifts in her boots.

“I’m flattered, really. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes go wide.

“I can’t believe you just said my name. This is crazy–”

“Tommy.” Joel cuts his brother off with a hard look before he embarrasses himself anymore. He clears his throat, seeming to get a hold of himself as Joel continues.

“She had been traveling with a group, looking for this place. She’s the only one left though. Was hoping to join the town.” Tommy grins again, glancing between her and Joel.

“Well, I’m sure we can make that happen. I think Joel would kill me if I didn’t let–” He squeezes Tommy’s shoulder hard, willing him to shut his mouth. 

“That little house next to ours is still empty. Why don’t we set her up there?” Tommy’s smile at his brother’s words is all too smug for Joel’s taste, but he still nods, turning his attention back to her.

“If that’s alright with you, ma’am. I’ll let the folks know to turn the gas and electric back on for that place.” She smiles brightly at that.

“That would be amazing. Thank you so much. I owe you all big time.” Tommy snorts.

“I’m pretty sure you can pay Joel back with an autograph, he’d probably cre—“ Joel’s heard enough, resorting to kicking Tommy in the ankle to shut him up. Ellie huffs from where she’s watching their pathetic display.

“Alright, well if you two freaks are done making fools of yourselves, I’ll show her over to that house.” 

…

When Joel gets home, the first thing he does is look at that DVD. He had found it a week or two ago on a patrol shift, left in a hollowed-out RV. Ellie was less than impressed and Maria refused to show it at movie night because it’s so gory, but he held onto it anyways. He can still remember going to see it in the theater with Tommy, both of them too young to get in if not for their friend working the ticket booth. He flips the case over in his hands, and sure enough, there she is on the back cover, looking impossibly beautiful while firing a machine gun. What’s not to like, right?

He’s broken out of his revelry by the sound of the front door opening, and soon enough, Ellie is stomping up the stairs to come looking for him. When she finds him in his bedroom, sitting on the end of his bed, she glances at the DVD he’s holding, a grin spreading over her face.

“Just like you remember, huh, old man?” He grumbles, getting up to set the movie back on the bookshelf before turning back to Ellie.

“She settling in alright?” She hums, nodding lightly.

“Yep, made a beeline for a shower. Told me to thank you. I told her you’d be coming around for your autograph later.” His face crumples in indignation while Ellie lets out a cackle.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But in all seriousness, I think she’s interested– in you– which pains me to even say, but, I figure you deserve to know that the woman of your pubescent dreams was asking questions about you.” Joel’s jaw goes slack, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“She– she was asking about me?” Ellie nods around a smirk.

“Mmhmm. And I told her you’re a grumpy old bum who doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” He huffs, but she laughs again.

“Sorry, kidding again. I didn’t tell her much. Just that you’ll be around. But if I were you, I’d “be around” sooner rather than later, before the rest of Jackson gets a piece of her. Snatch her up before there’s sweeter bait to bite down on, you know?” He thinks briefly that he needs to see just what sort of magazines this kid is reading, because he can’t quite believe what’s coming out of her mouth. He grumbles, shaking his head at her antics.

“There ain’t gonna be any snatching going on. Just mind your–” She huffs, already walking out of his room.

“Mind my business, yeah, yeah, I know. But think about what I said, old man. Better cast your line quick for this one. My guess is you weren’t the only one who had her poster in your bedroom back before.” 

He’s not letting that kid read magazines anymore.

…

When he steps out on his porch later in the afternoon, fully intent on what Ellie has affectionately started calling his “adult nap time,” he’s interrupted by someone calling his name. He catches sight of her sitting on the porch of the little house next door, waving and smiling at him like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey, neighbor.” He tentatively waves back, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy her as she motions for him to join her. He sighs, rather stiffly walking over to her porch and joining her on the bench seat, keeping a very respectable distance between them. Clickers, raiders, general imminent danger, he can handle. Pretty lady? That’s touchy. Pretty lady who he imagined marrying as a teenager? Just put him out of his misery already. He knows it’s ridiculous, that none of that matters now. She’s just as worn and weathered as the rest of them by this crumbled world. But that smile she keeps flashing him might just bring him to his knees.

“I wanted to thank you– for bringing me along. I was, uh, starting to lose hope back there a little bit.” He nods, glancing at her.

“No need for thanks. Just the right thing to do in this world. I’m sorry– about your group. I don’t know what happened, but that couldn’t have been easy being out there on your own.” She shrugs, waving off his sentiment.

“It was barely a group to begin with. Just some folks who happened to get out of the San Francisco QZ together.” His brain is quickly trying to knit together the movie star he remembers from the past and this woman who sits before him now, an obvious edge to her.

“Were you in California? Back when everything…” She nods, her face set in a grim look.

“LA, where else? Now that was a nightmare. I bet the only worse place to be when everything went down was New York. Bodies everywhere. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” She lets out a humorless laugh before glancing at him.

“That movie you like so much? I remember when I got the role, I had no idea how I was gonna pull it off. Grizzled heroine with a dark past and a penchant for violence. I was nothing like her. But now, I feel a whole lot more like her and a whole lot less like me.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I dumped that on you.” Joel is quick to shake his head, leaning over his thighs to catch her gaze.

“No, no. I get it– in my own way, I guess. The world changed and– we had to change with it.” That coaxes a crooked smile out of her as she looks at him. A simple silence descends between them as they share quiet smiles. She finally giggles, scrunching her nose at him.

“That girl– Ellie? I think she said something about you wanting an autograph?” Joel can feel the hot blush creeping up his neck as his face goes slack. She just splits out in a laugh, tipping her head back in delight.

“I’m sorry, I’m kidding. But, you know, what I went by, what people still call me, that isn’t my real name.” Joel’s eyebrows quirk up and she sighs, shaking her head.

“Just a stage name. I don’t really mind people calling me that, but can I tell you my real name?” He can feel the smile tugging at his mouth as he nods. Before he knows what she’s doing, she’s taking his hand into her lap, slowly tracing out her name with her finger across his palm. An autograph, of sorts. He’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits, just barely stringing together her name as she finishes. He murmurs it lowly and she offers him her brightest smile yet, still holding his hand lightly in her own.

“And you’re Joel, right?” He’s only a little embarrassed by how quickly he nods.

“Mmhmm. Miller– Joel Miller, yep.” She lets out a breathy laugh, now clasping his hand in a firm shake.

“It’s nice to really meet you, Joel Miller.” 

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #request

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Chris Bradford Backstory-Top Dog

It’s a bummer we never got Chris’ backstory. We saw Xever’s and a lot of the other Foot’s but sadly nothing on him. I always wondered who he used to be before becoming the famous Martial Arts star to loyal ninja warrior mutant for the Foot and Shredder. What if he wasn’t always the Top Dog?

What if the episode about Chris wanting his humanity back was expanded, along with Xever and when presented with a chance to become human again like getting a certain ingredient or formula where only one can use it to turn back to human, they fight over who should get the chance.

Xever-It’s all your fault we’re freaks to begin with! You’re the reason I’m stuck in all this! Chris-I’m sorry, was I the one who made you steal from Master Shredder and got you thrown into prison to be bailed out into working for the Foot!? Cause I’m pretty sure you stuck yourself in that corner! Not me!

Xever-My life was already hard as it was but you practically go out of your way to make it worse and enjoy doing so! For crying out loud I lost my own legs!

Chris-Hey you got new ones! And they can crush stuff way better and you love crushing things! Usually other people’s legs! Xever-Ugh, I don’t even know why I’m trying to get you to understand my situation, you’d never understand what having it hard is like at all!

Chris-Excuse me?

Xever-Oh don’t act dumb, you don’t need to for that! People like you have had everything handed to them their whole lives! You didn’t have to work to get where you are, from being some pretty rich boy to some rich martial arts movie star and now to Shredder’s lap dog! You’ve made it very clear that all you’ll ever see me as is just some lowly bottom-feeder so can’t you at least let me be human-

Chris-SHUT UP! YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!

Xever stunned by his reaction.

Chris-You seriously think that I just didn’t have to earn my place into the Foot, to once have earned HIS respect!? You think just a bunch of money and fame got me into here!? In fact it’s the other way around. It’s because of the Foot, I ever became somebody that mattered…flashback

Way back, I grew up as a foster kid, going from new home to home but always end up being returned back. I felt like some weak little runt in the pound, a total underdog. The kind where all the bigger kids would pick on, the kind where teachers thought I was too stupid to be taught anything and as I got older it got worse. Pretty soon, nobody wanted me. The only thing that brought me some comfort where all those cool Martial Art films and shows. The heroes looked so cool fighting all those bad guys and getting through any kind of obstacle and everyone else thought so too. I wanted to be just like that! To be the seen the way everyone else saw them, to be respected, to be adored…to be loved. And I thought it would only ever be just some silly dream until…I met him. Xever-Shredder?

Chris- At that time, he was looking for new potential recruits and I got lucky enough for him to check for fosters like me who were starting to get too old for most to consider fostering. He was the first person who ever looked at me and not just pass by me like everyone else would, like he saw something in me that no one, including me could see at the time, I felt…hopeful. So when he asked if I was open to become one of his new students, I took the offer and never looked back. I did everything I could to show Shredder he wouldn’t regret giving me a shot! I endured everything he put me through, sometimes I wonder how I even survived but I did! And I used what he taught me to finally show the rest of the world what Chris Bradford could do and become the same kind of hero I watched on tv, some other little kid like me could look up to! I was finally the top dog!

Xever-Wow. Guess you really did earn your place at the top.

Chris-I did, but now? I’m a giant hideous mutant dog man, I’m constantly beaten by teenage turtle mutants and worst of all Shredder’s pretty much lost all care for me and it’s only a matter of time Karai kicks me to the curb to be just a nobody again! And to top it all off, I’m forced to work with some guy, 10 years younger than me who got where I had to go through so much more to be, by attempting to steal from my Master! Being Chris Bradford’s all I really have left at this point and I know that windows closing soon enough, in show business! YOU know how to survive on your own without needing conditional love. I don’t!…I can’t💔

Xever-…

What do u think? I’d love to know💖

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 foot clan #tmnt Chris bradford #Chris bradford #xever #xever montes #Tmnt fishface #fishface #Tmnt 2k12 #Dogpound #tmnt rahzar #rahzar

[miralglam]

Bridget everett man

#BRIDGET EVERETT MAN SERIES#

#BRIDGET EVERETT MAN TV#

#BRIDGET EVERETT MAN SERIES#

Thureen and Bos, long-time best friends themselves, always knew they wanted to focus on a platonic relationship in the series and part of the show’s uniqueness is in watching Sam and Joel driving around in search of something to do. Which is why the central relationship that blossoms throughout the show is the friendship between Sam and Joel (Jeff Hiller), her optimistic coworker who pushes Sam to be a stronger version of herself. “And Sam’s journey to come back to life is small steps, but they’re big moments.” Everett also didn’t want Sam to make any transformations out of a need for a romantic relationship. “Every time we tried to make the show have bigger events, that’s when it felt like it was slipping away,” Everett said. In fact, it was crucial to Everett, who is part of the show’s writer’s room and whose life the show is loosely based on, that Sam wasn’t going to be changed by the end.

#BRIDGET EVERETT MAN TV#

The Best 30 LGBTQ Movies and TV Shows Streaming on Netflix Right Now Oscars 2023: Best Production Design Predictions 'House of the Dragon' Episode 2 Forms Daring, Dangerous Alliances Small changes lead to growth, but not in a way that the narrative has to call to it.Īnother 'House of the Dragon' Shocker: Episode 2 Actually Had More Viewers Than Series Premiere It’s not a spoiler, but the pair wanted to craft a series where there’s no grand epiphany for its characters. The pair did not want to make something that felt like “a TV show”, but was the collision between hilarious and heartbreaking, that found the joy in the simple things that fill up our day. Paul Thureen and Hannah Bos are both from the Midwest themselves and often write stuff about that part of the world, as well as examining lives that usually aren’t considered worthy of being on TV. It’s a show “where things happen in the cracks between what stories normally focus on,” co-creator Paul Thureen told IndieWire. It’s a simple statement for a show that is seeking to buck the trend of what a television show looks like. It’s been a long time coming for not just Everett, but the entire cast and creative team. But there’s something similarly satisfying with seeing hard work pay off, as it has with the HBO’s new series “ Somebody Somewhere.” Comedienne Bridget Everett plays Sam, a Kansas woman struggling to find direction in the wake of her sister’s death. It’s this fantasy that is at the heart of why we love watching television. Every one of Joel’s lines, his emotions, even his gestures - like the way he laughs with his mouth wide open, as if his delight is simply too enormous to be contained - seem to come from somewhere deep inside of Hiller’s own soul.We know Hollywood is a landscape of dreams broken, delayed, and often unseen. Hiller does it so naturally, it’s often easy to forget he’s acting at all. It’s a lot to ask of a single actor to personify all those qualities at once. He’s a total dork, but one so earnest in his total dorkiness that he comes back around to being kind of cool, in the way that anyone so completely themselves feels kind of cool. He’s so generous, you might mistake him for a pushover, but strong enough to protect his own heart and the hearts of the people (or the recently adopted dog) he loves. He’s an anxious wreck, but also a steadfast leader. With each passing episode, Joel adds new layers still. A few scenes later, Hiller leans into Sam with his eyes sparkling to snark on a mutual classmate’s terrible new book, and it becomes apparent that Joel is not without a sly streak that makes him the best of best friends, and the most winsome of TV characters: someone you can rely on for silliness as well as sympathy. Here is a man who knows exactly who he is, who’s accepted himself for it and who now willingly extends that same grace to others.Īlso, it’s funny, because it’s always amusing to watch one character call out another’s bullshit. There’s no trace of disappointment or self-pity in his response, only a genial matter-of-factness. It’s a small moment, but one that quickly lays the foundation for one of the series’ most lovable characters. SAG Awards: Key Dates Set for Lead-Up to 29th Ceremony

#Bridget everett man

[con-fection]

violence and intimacy are the only universal languages | BUCKY BARNES x READER | 18+ oneshot

synopsis: In which Bucky Barnes fucks John Walker’s girlfriend, who turns out not to be John Walker’s girlfriend at all. 

[Alternative synopsis: Bucky happens to meet you, John Walker's girlfriend, and you're nothing like he expects you to be. He's anticipating a woman that's arrogant, mindless and fake, following after Walker like a lost puppy, a woman who puts on a front to the whole world, a terrible person hiding behind the girl-next-door facade. You're nothing like that - you're soft, intriguing and absolutely lovely, everything that's good in the world. And he's very much attracted to you, desperate to show John who you really belong to.]

Content warnings: 18+ This is SMUT. Contains sex/explicit language/,masturbation. 

THIS IS SET DURING EPISODE 2 AND WILL CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS AS IT USES SOME DIALOGUE FROM THE SHOW :) IT’S ALSO TOLD FROM BUCKY’S POV :)

Word count: 17K

John Walker is absolutely insufferable.

He is a man high off his own arrogance, regarding himself as the ultimate authority, and relegating every other member of this planet to being below him. He is a bastardisation of everything that vibranium shield stood for. John doesn't have bravery, but he has pride in spades, which is more than good enough for everybody around him.

Captain America had been so deeply beloved that his loss left a crippling gape in the very heart of the American dream. It was a space that required filling - and so, in the absence of Steve Rogers, the apparent next best thing was located.

But Walker wasn't the next best after a man like Steve Rogers. They may vaguely resemble one another, in their facial features, icy blue eyes and broad, towering stature, but John fails to measure up in each and every way that matters. He fundamentally lacks the most important qualities that Steve had in abundance.

Steve Rogers had been a heart-wrenchingly good man, burdened with a righteous sense of justice, a strong moral compass and compassion. His life had been far from easy, wrought with losses that left him fractured into pieces of himself. He was loyal to a fault - willing to wage a war against the United States' government to try to clear the name of a comrade so close he would have died for him a thousand times over. John would dance to whatever tune the government gave him, so long as it resulted in his name being glorified.

John Walker knows nothing of that sacrifice. Every alleged 'brave' act comes from his warped sense of reality, one that has given him the impression he simply cannot die, that he can't be wrong in any way. 

Each time he jumped on top of a grenade, or put himself in the line of fire, he came out unscathed, and so he did it again and again and again, revelling in the praise he recieved afterwards, and the eventual mantle that was bestowed upon him.

Steve had never once come out of a single fight uninjured. 

That was part of the mysticism, of his heroism. He would be hurt time and time again. And yet, he would never fold. He didn't bend or break under the pressure, under the pain. He didn't so much as waver in the face of all of it. his devotion to doing what was good and what was right always prevailed, irrespective of how many bones he may break or how much blood he may lose.

Despite the fact that John Walker, the second Captain America, lacked any of the characteristics of his predecessor, he became America's sweetheart. People were desperate to have somebody fill the space that Steve Rogers had left, and to the public, it seemed like John Walker was perfect.

He gave flawless interviews, where he came across not as an arrogant, self-serving puppet of the state, but as a humble, bashful, honest man that represented the very soul of America. Watching him talk was reminiscent of his predecessor, and of course, each public appearance had been carefully orchestrated so that would be the case. Every word that spilled from his mouth was premeditated, designed specifically with the intent to appeal to the populus.

John Walker got to parade around wearing stars and stripes, cradling a shield that he was very much undeserving of wielding. And, he got to do all of this accompanied by two people. 

The first was Lemar Hoskins, the Battlestar. Like Walker, he too had served in the armed forces, and was to be considered a decently skilled fighter, though he failed to measure up to the likes of either Bucky or Sam.

...and then there was you.

Bucky found John Walker to be absolutely insufferable, a blight on Steve's legacy, and some tiny, bitter sliver of that hatred was reserved for you, too.

The new Captain America served the country with his best friend Battlestar and his lover, you.

You weren't like them. You weren't some jacked-up soldier fresh out of the army who had kissed enough ass and earnt enough medals to be made into a hero. Instead, you were practically just the eye candy. America's darling, hanging off the arm of their beloved hero. There was something magnetising about you that made people just love you instantaneously. It was a raw appeal that nobody was safe from.

Initially, Bucky had regarded you as an odd choice. You weren't even a superhero. You didn't take up a stupid, convoluted mantle like 'Battlestar' had. Rather simply, you were just there, tagging along, looking pretty and people adored you for it.

 There was something very intriguing to the people of America about their new Captain America and his sweetheart - you, a stunning supermodel-type with a dazzling mind and a blinding smile. It was easy for them to project onto you two, the perfect superhero couple who had a fairytale romance.

Bucky utterly detested John Walker and his lost-puppy sidekick, Battlestar.

Some tiny sliver of that malice had initially been generalised to you, too. It was hard not to feel slightly bitter as he saw the two of you on TV, giving interview after interview, cuddled up to each other. It was all so terribly fake, utter bullshit that people eagerly lapped up because it was the version of reality that they desperately wanted to believe in.

 It had to be fake - nobody is simply that charismatic, especially not when they're holding hands with John Walker. There was something about the way they, they being your PR team, had styled you in a few of the earlier interviews that gave him the distinct impression that they wanted people to be reminded of Natasha Romanoff, minus the bloody past.

For a while, for your first few public appearances, you had been relegated to wearing dark clothes and leathers that made you seem every bit a femme fatale, though any semblance of danger was nullified by your friendly smile. 

It also seemed like that route had been abandoned, and now you tended to appear wearing lighter clothes, whites and creams that were more innocent, like your PR team had doubled back on itself and decided to switch from the 'whore' to the 'virgin'. You seemed more genuine like that, in florals and paler colours.

Bucky would be lying if he said he had never watched any of your interviews. It had merely been a simple fascination, a way to satisfy the nagging feeling of curiosity that threatened to consume him. They were interesting, and he consumed them with an almost ravenous hunger. Simple curiosity, that was all. That was all that he would let it be.

That interview that John had given at his old high school had just been the beginning, his very debut to the American people. Since then, there had been a few more, some featuring Battlestar, who would sit obediently at his side, and others featuring you.

You would curl up next to him, eagerly pressing yourself into John's side, smiling widely as you began the interview. There was a slightly angelic quality about you, a veil of innocence around you, your lilting voice like a siren's call, and your bright, doe eyes. With a well practiced ease, you would entwine your fingers with John's and sweetly tell him, looking at your lover intensely, that he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

It was fascinating to watch, to see just what kind of image your PR team could put across. You seemed every bit like the all-american girl, like the unattainable girl-next-door who would go to church every sunday and would be an inspiration to girls across the country. 

Despite the innocent-seeming way in which you were deliberately styled, you never once came across as naive. Instead, there was never any vapid or vain qualities to you. It was like you just didn't know how pretty you were, or the effect you could have on people.

As nice as you may have come across in all of those interviews, every bit the picture-perfect media darling, Bucky knew it was all a farce. John had managed to seem like a decent, determined man who was down to earth and wanted nothing more than to provide inspiration to Americans, no, to the whole world. But all of those things about John simply were untrue.

 Every interaction he had with the public had been carefully created to construct an image of him that incited adoration from the public. There was no reason whatsoever why you wouldn't be the same.

In fact, Bucky found it more likely than not that you were a complete inversion of that sweet, charming woman you appeared to be on TV. It left him with a sour taste in his mouth and biting back at bile rising in his throat. It was nauseatingly fake, all masquerading around as good and just using Steve's emblem.

It wasn't until he met you that the malice rescinded.

His escapade with Sam to see Isaiah had ultimately concluded with handcuffs being wrapped around his wrists and a visit to the local police station. Bucky had been taken into some tiny, isolated cell with boring blank walls that are comprised of chipped bricks covered poorly by cracking blue and white paint, constantly escorted and monitored by police officers, who were buzzing dually with excitement and tension at having both the recently-pardoned Winter Soldier in detention, and avenger the Falcon stood outside in the hall, demanding answers.

Doctor Christina Raynor had strolled into the precinct with both weariness and disappointment in her eyes. She walked almost like a woman defeated, one hand clasping the strap of her handbag and the other falling aimlessly at her side. 

Immediately, she gravitated towards Sam, who was seated rigidly in some tiny, uncomfortable plastic chair amongst a myriad of members of the public, people who were also waiting for news about their friends or family who had been arrested.

Clamoring to put on the most polite smile she could, Doctor Raynor introduced herself to Sam, barely managing to get in a complete sentence before she's interrupted.

Swiftly following the arrival of the Doctor is the entrance of John Walker. John strides into the precinct dressed in the Captain America garb, shield positioned on his back. There's something terribly strategic about the decision to be constantly wearing the suit. Perhaps it's to offer a sense of security, or maybe it's because without it John has no authority to operate on. Either way, his mere appearance results in a horde of frenzied police officers trailing after him, desperate for a selfie or an autograph, something that John mindlessly indulges them in, smiling the whole time. Sam's face instantly sours as John enters, his eyebrows tugging down into a frown.

John Walker simply saunters in, a falsely cherubic smile on his face as he stares down at Christina. "Bucky's not going to be following a strict schedule any longer."

Doctor Raynor's previously jovial attitude towards John's presence dissipates, quickly replaced by confusion. "We haven't finished our work." She protests, setting her jaw. "Who authorised this?"

There's a note of challenge in her voice as she presses John for an answer. She's the professional - she's very much the one capable of understanding Bucky's mind, and yet John doesn't take her concern into account. He doesn't even look phased by it. He's completely unbothered by any opposition thrown his way - it had never mattered to him before, and it had no reason to bother him now.

"I did," John says, pointing to himself.

Sam and Christina both stare him down, equally perturbed. They exchange a brief glance. Doctor Raynor's concerned in a professional capacity - not only is Barnes her patient, and it is her prerogative to help him take control of his mind and heal, but she is also commanded by the state to oversee his psychiatric care. 

Responsibility for him falls onto her - she's the professional. Christina is the doctor, the one who understands the human mind, and John very much is not. Sam, on the other hand, is personally concerned. As much as he pretends he despises Bucky, he does care, albeit begrudgingly. He wouldn't be here if he didn't.

A tiny beep goes off, signifying that a door is being opened. Bucky is walked in by two police officers, looking mildly agitated for one second, and completely numb the next, all emotion dropping from his face to put a cool, unfeeling visage into place. It's a mask that gives him obscurity, that allows him to distance himself from the mere possibility of being vulnerable.

Christina forces the two of them into some botched attempt at therapy, forcing them to look into each others eyes and get far closer than either of them are comfortable with whilst she presides over them, poking, prodding, inquiring. 

It's a demand of some emotional vulnerability that Bucky simply does not want to produce. It's not exactly heart-wrenching but it does make him feel robbed, like something had been taken from him against his will. It didn't feel like healing, like what therapy was meant to be. It felt difficult. It felt like a quiet rage building in his gut that he desperately wants to keep under wraps, lest he lash out at somebody.

It leaves Bucky feeling stripped raw when they finally leave the police station.

By the time Bucky and Sam step out onto the streets the sun has already set. The sky is dark, a deep navy blue that's mostly covered by thick dark clouds that besiege the atmosphere. The whole street is lit by lights that have been left on in people's windows, or blinkering blue lamps that run along the outer wall of the police station.

A blaring, almost comically loud beeping noise disrupts the fragile silence of the night. Lined up outside of the station are a series of police cars, all emblazoned with white lettering reading 'BALTIMORE POLICE DEPARTMENT'. 

The sirens of one of the police cars is going off wildly, the noise being one disruption and the blue and red flashing lights emitting from the roof of the car being another. It's an annoyance, and creates a false sense of urgency. Those sirens are normally used when somebody's life is at risk and members of the police force are going to respond. In this situation, there's no rush, no hurry, there's no crime.

Leaned up against the car, grinning wildly, is John Walker, still dressed as Captain America, all dolled up in navy blue and red, a silver 'A' on his breast.

 When he sees that he's successfully captured Sam and Bucky's attention, which he garners from the fact that both of their heads whip towards him, attracted by both the loud noise and the bright lights, he turns off the siren, restoring the tentative peace to the darkened streets.

This time, though, Walker's not alone. 

Next to him, propped up against the hood of the car is Battlestar, also dressed head-to-toe in his tactical gear, arms folded over his chest and a stoic expression on his face. There's something about him that just lacks any individuality. John masqueraded as somebody else, somebody whose mantle he had no right to use, and he's always constantly accompanied by a pale imitation of a comrade.

As likely as it is that Walker and Battlestar have engaged in combat together, they're not comrades, not in the way Bucky and Steve were. He and Steve had been willing to do anything for each other - endure any pain, run from the forces of the state if they had to, even die for one another.

 Walker didn't seem like the type to lay down his life for somebody else out of a genuine heart-felt devotion to them.

And then, stood a few feet away from both Walker and his loyal sidekick is you - the lover. There's a decent amount of distance between you and them, separated from one another by enough space that it quite literally looks like you're desperate to avoid Walker's presence. You huddle over by the wall of the precinct, jaw set like you were irritated by the ear-splitting sound of the siren, though you don't voice a complaint. Unlike the two men, you're not dressed like you're headed out to battle, like you're some kind of protector. No, you're dressed in some pale, flouncy sundress that grazes your thighs, and you're shivering in the night air. Of course you are - it's freezing.

Bucky has to bite back a sneer just at the sight of the three of you, a vile, acrid remark just on the tip of his tongue. He has just spent the best part of his day in some cramped cell that reminds him all too much of a HYDRA facility, and then being interrogated by his own therapist, who is desperate to push him into emotional vulnerability all in the name of progress. He isn't in the mood to play happy families, and especially not with the man now wielding Steve's shield.

"Gentlemen!" John calls out, waving his hands in the air as if Bucky and Sam hadn't already started their stride towards him, matching expressions of disdain on their faces. "Good to see you again. Have I introduced you to my girl yet? No?"

It, of course, was a rhetorical question. The two of them had only ever seen you in snapshots of public appearances that you had made at John's side. You weren't actively accompanying Captain America or Battlestar on any of their missions, and as far as Bucky is aware, there are no plans for you to do so. You're not a soldier. You're not built for battle - you're softer. More gentle. You're not the state's attempt at creating a superhero. Allegedly, you're just a regular girl - pretty and smart and charismatic, but otherwise perfectly regular - who just so happens to be dating John Walker, the new Captain America.

John doesn't wait for a response from Bucky or Sam, but he does gesture to you, beckoning you over to him by crooking two of his fingers.

You approach him, your dress ruffled by the wind. In that instant Bucky thinks that the two of you actually do seem nothing like how you do on those televised interviews - his prediction had been correct. The persona was lovely, enchanting even, but it was just that. A persona, an act for your public image. There's something almost mechanical about the way you approach John, your hands folded across your chest in an unsuccessful attempt to shield yourself from the cold. It's all too robotic. It's not effortless or affectionate. You don't look remotely comfortable, but you slide up next to Walker and Hoskins regardless. Clearly, Battlestar isn't the only one who follows Walker's commands like an obedient dog.

You slot yourself in between Battlestar and John, a grimace passing over your face as you press yourself into his side. It's odd, exceptionally so, for Bucky to see this - god, you look reluctant to accept some modicum of warmth from your own boyfriend, who you'd proclaimed publically that you loved more than anything. It's almost like you resent his touch.

And oh, that's nice. It's almost cathartic seeing somebody meant to love and adore John avoid his touch like he's got some contagious flesh-eating disease.

There's a great deal of recognition in your eyes as you look at Bucky and Sam. It's likely you'd already been made familiar with them as a result of Walker's fevered desperation to unite their forces. 

Bucky's looking at you intently, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to open your mouth and prove him right - for you to prove that you were just as fake as Walker and Hoskins. It almost seemed inevitable, really. It's all too easy to seem good, sweet and polite on those well-orchestrated interviews. But real life is a completely different matter all together.

Bucky's well versed in being able to tell when people are lying, easily spotting their little tells, locating them in the flutter of a limb, the arch of an eyebrow or the twitch of an eye. It'll be a matter of moments until he spots yours. Any act was doomed to fail around him. Everybody gives themselves away somehow.

You introduce yourself, stating your name and giving them a shy wave. "It's nice to meet the two of you." You say sweetly, a smile lighting up your face.

Bucky's eyes widen involuntarily. Oh. It was one thing seeing that enchantment on TV, and another seeing it just feet away from him. There was something absolutely enrapturing about the silky quality of your voice, and the way your eyes sparkled even in the dim light.

 He hadn't expected you to actually be...pleasant. It was all supposed to be this fake persona, and yet, he can practically sense the genuity on you. You don't twitch like some little rabbit, or stumble over your words. There's no sweat beading on your brow, and you're not avoiding eye-contact. If anything, you're welcoming it.

There was no fucking way. No fucking way at all that you could actually be as nice as you were in those interviews and be with John Walker of all people. You should be horrible simply by being associated with the man.

"Well, now that we're all acquainted we can move onto our first order of business." John says, not even glancing at you. His gaze is focused solely on Sam and Bucky, steely and deceptive, completely dismissive of how utterly lovely you look.

Bucky's having a hard time even looking at John, not when you're right there, not too far away, looking absolutely angelic. There was no way it was some act, right? That facade had fallen through for both John and his stoic sidekick the minute they opened their mouths, but when it came to you... the complete opposite was true. Sam had definitely remarked on his staring problem more than once, and Bucky was very much hoping that in the dark you wouldn't be able to tell that he was looking at you in something akin to awe and unrepentant curiosity. He was looking at you in both fascination and scrutiny, staring intently like he was about to authenticate a work of art.

His deep rooted dislike of both John Walker and Battlestar was still very much present, but he was currently experiencing some emotional turbulence over his deep lack of hatred for you. It simply seemed to have evaporated the second you smiled at him. Which was...concerning to say the least. Shouldn't he hate you? Shouldn't your very presence have stoked that spark of malice?

"Look, if we divide ourselves we don't stand a chance. You guys know that." John says. He's all charismatic and confident, self-assured in a way that comes across as mildly condescending. It's a pale, cheap imitation of Steve's ability to rouse even the most slovenly of men and turn them into righteous soldiers.

"So what do you got?" Sam asks tiredly.

John immediately begins his speech, eagerly describing the plight of Karli Morgenthau, and how her journey around the globe is being aided and abetted by sympathisers who want to see the world return to the way it had been during the years of the blip. These sympathisers had much preferred it when half the world had been reduced to ash and something akin to anarchy had been allowed to prevail. 

Whole governments had collapsed in on themselves, and often, borders ceased to exist. It was complete free movement - there was a distinct lack of separation between different human factions, like all of humanity had been united by that grave event that took half of the planet.

Bucky had no idea what that world had been like. He'd only seen the shell of it, the hellscape that was left once the other fifty percent of earth's inhabitants returned to life.

Battlestar makes a few brief interjections, explaining a few minor aspects of the tale - the geotagging, that this threat is most likely operating out of eastern europe, and that Karli has stolen the medicine to take it to one of the camps.

 They don't tend to be sanitary places. Disease runs rampant there, and nobody tends to really care about those who fall sick and succumb to their illness. Of course they need medicine - there's probably hundreds of people who are in the throes of sickness, vomiting their own guts out, their wounds crusted over with coagulated blood, infected and festering.

"Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since the blip. So, I guess you'll have to look real hard," Bucky says, shrugging with a sort of apathy. It's rather vindicating to watch the way John's lip curls up in disdain.

"Well I guess it's good we have-" John begins, his jaw set and his tone confrontational, dripping with very thinly veiled rage.

You sigh, a tiny little breathless sound that makes Bucky freeze up slightly. It sounded, for a lack of a better word, rather nice. Melodic, even. "John, calm down." You tell him, not entirely unkindly, but not sweetly, either. 

There's some kind of quality to your voice when you speak to John like you're negotiating for hostages, not like you're having a conversation with your lover. It's curious, but Bucky tries not to attach too much meaning to it.  

Bucky gives you a stiff sort of nod, and you reward him with a smile, your lips curving upwards. "Where is she now? Do you know?" He says, softer than he probably would have if you hadn't been there.

"No. We don't know, Bucky." John's voice is a near yell. He shifts agitatedly, gesticulating wildly, tossing his arms about and shoving you slightly, letting you nearly collide with Battlestar, who is forced to grasp your arm to keep you upright. Battlestar's hand curves around your upper arm, pulling you back until you're steady on your feet. "But it's only a matter of time before we find out."

Relatively quickly, Battlestar's hand drops from your arm, and you give him a whisper of thanks before turning to give John a glare. He hadn't even so much as muttered an apology. He was completely focused on Bucky, the two locking stares in some kind of silent battle, one of wills.

"Things are really intense for you, aren't they, Walker?" Bucky can't fucking resist agitating him, letting the taunt roll off his tongue easily, not even bothering to resist grinning when your lips quirk upwards. Oh yes, you think he's funny - he can see it in the way you press a hand to your lips in a successful attempt to quell a rising peal of laughter.

"Walker's right." Sam is the one to turn to Bucky and snap at him. He tries to diffuse the situation, glancing between you, Bucky and John like he was watching something that had the potential to go very wrong. "It is imperative that we find and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and authorisations you have to get. We're free agents. More flexible. It wouldn't make sense for us to work together."

Tentatively, you set a hand on John's shoulder, feeling the coarse, kevlar-esque material of the suit beneath the tips of your fingers as he turns rigid, looking at Bucky and Sam coldly, all pretences of being nice completely gone, having simply evaporated into the cold night air. "Mr. Wilson isn't wrong."

Like Sam, you seem to have moved on to an attempt to prevent the escalating tensions from reaching their head. You try your best to soothe John, and his shoulders do sag fractionally, like he's just been reminded of your presence. There's something about the way that Walker looks at you that's utterly unappreciative. Perhaps John doesn't want to be grounded - if his will is being resisted then he'd rather be aggressive than diplomatic.

Sam scoffs at the name, "You don't have to call me that. In fact, please don't call me that."

"It's polite isn't it?" You say, smiling, even as John ruthlessly shucks your hand from his shoulder, dismissive of your touch. He gives you an irritated kind of look, a silent admonishment of you challenging his authority. It's not the kind of look that equal partners give each other, and your ensuing glare isn't, either.

"Suppose so," Sam shrugs, his lips quirking up in amusement.

"Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes aren't obligated to help," You tell John softly, seemingly speaking through gritted teeth. "Clearly, we all want the same things - to get that medicine back and bring Karli to justice. But, if you're not all going to be able to work cohesively on a team and get the job done, it may be best to work separately. It gives you all the opportunity to handle things the way you want to. This should be about doing the right thing and accomplishing the mission, not about who's calling the shots."

John nods stiffly, turning to you for a brief moment. There's some kind of red light coming from within one of the nearby buildings, and it's lighting up the dark street in shades of red, crimson light spilling over his cheekbones and dancing across one side of his face. He's the very image of begrudging agreement. "Alright then. Just one piece of advice for you boys. Stay the hell out of my way."

"Gladly." Bucky mutters under his breath, not missing the fact that you catch it and your smile widens.

As Bucky and Sam begin their exit, he can't help but to spare you one last glance over his shoulder. Bucky's eyes quickly roam over your form, as if he's mapping you out, or trying to emblazon the image of you within his mind - bathed in dying red light, still smiling serenely at him even as he's leaving. He really cannot figure you out. 

The line of what's real and what's fake seems awfully blurred when it comes to you. Normally he's excellent at detecting a performance, but when it comes to you, Bucky has no idea whatsoever what is going on. And it's very much intriguing.

John Walker he would have no problem whatsoever in leaving alone.

...but you on the other hand, were a whole different story.

There was some grand, captivating quality that you had in spades that was even more potent in real life than it had been on camera. It was in the way your hair was jostled by the wind, the pale sundress that skirted your soft-looking thighs, the curve of your hips, the way you smiled and that hypnotic twinkle in your eye. 

Walker and Hoskin's lovely personalities had been something of a farce, but yours wasn't. It did, however, make him wonder what somebody like you was doing with them - how you could aid and abet their actions even though it was glaringly obvious you weren't always in concordance with them.

"Man, I do not know what the hell was going on there, but I very much did not like how you were looking at Walker's girl like she was a piece of steak, or something." Sam shudders, muttering quietly once they're out of earshot of Walker and his companions.

"I don't know what you mean." Bucky feigns ignorance, setting his jaw and very much trying to push the phrase 'Walker's girl' from his mind. It just...didn't seem right.

In all of those TV interviews, the two of you had seemed like a perfect couple - you only appeared that way because Walker was plastering on a faux persona. In reality, the two of you seemed fragmented, distant from one another though Walker did have some tiny modicum of respect for you. 

There was nothing about the real, raw interactions between the two of you that indicated any intimacy. It was the complete antithesis of the united front the two of you presented, of the perpetually happy lovers that America adored.

There was just no way it could be true. In fact, it sets off something that's terribly close to jealousy in his gut. Walker's an arrogant prick who carries a shield he has no right to even look at. He especially doesn't deserve you - you with the pretty eyes and an aura about you that screamed 'holy', 'saintly', even.

Yes. That was probably why he disliked it. Because it was probably inaccurate. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way you enchanted him, nothing to do with the sight of your bare legs and absolutely nothing to do with the lovely way you said 'Mr.Barnes.'  It had absolutely nothing to do with that whatsoever.

"No, no." Sam protests. "I've seen you, you know, stare at people before - but god, never like that. Fuck, man."

And it's true. It was obvious to anybody that spent more than thirty seconds with Bucky that he had yet to acclimate and adjust to social scenarios, and that once he was focused on one thing had an abject refusal to move his gaze away from it. Bucky had heard Sam call it both 'creepy' and 'unnerving', and hoped, for some inexplicable reason, that you thought differently. 

After all, your eyes had barely left his. It wasn't staring if both of you were doing it - then it was mutual, some kind of joint focus on one another.

"Like what, Sam?"

Sam just shakes his head, looking disdainful, his nose turned up like he'd just smelled something foul. "Mmhm, like you wanted to do some things to her that, for the sake of my own mental health, I would rather not think about."

Well, technically, he hadn't thought about anything that bad - just your voice, your smile, and the way you might say his name. But, in that instant, Sam's words derail all of those thoughts. Because, really, you had looked so lovely that it would be forgivable to think about you like that.

There was that cute little sundress you were wearing, grazing your thighs whenever you moved or whenever the wind picked up. It's all too easy for him to imagine skirting his fingers up your smooth, soft thighs and let his hands explore you, roaming over your ass and your inner thighs, enjoying the feeling of your skin and the little noises he could provoke from you.

"...stop thinking about it. I can literally hear your thoughts right now." Sam says, grimacing at Bucky's spaced out kind of look - his glazed over eyes and the fingers twitching at his sides. It's all too easy for him to see the gears shifting in Bucky's head, openly reliving the few moments he had seen you.  

"I'm not thinking about it," Bucky outright lies as the two of them continue walking down the street.

"No, you absolutely are thinking about it." Sam objects. "I can sense the impropriety."

"Oh yeah? You can sense it?" Bucky glares at Sam, unable to resist antagonising him. It's safe, reliable even, between the two of them. They'll perpetually annoy one another, being challenging, rude, and utterly impolite, knowing that when it comes down to it, they'll fight side-by-side without objection, trusting each other implicitly. But in these moments when there's no imminent danger, that opposition is welcome. It's routine, even.

"Hell yes, I can sense it."

Bucky just scoffs at him, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. It wasn't really as if Sam was wrong. There was something especially fascinating about Walker's girl - if that's even what you are. He'd known you for a matter of fleeting moments that passed by like dandelion seeds in a breeze. And yet, something about it felt terribly significant. 

He hadn't actually expected that appeal to be real. He anticipated that just like Walker's carefully groomed public image, it would have been falsified.

The only thing that really seemed fake about those interviews was your affection with John. It was non-existent in real life, and for a while, you had avoided touching him, until you had to diffuse the situation. That was very, very curious. Just where had Walker found you? He had to doubt that the relationship was genuine. 

Somebody as nice, as innocent-seeming as you would never go for Walker. Not when Walker's the kind of guy that Steve would have tried to fight as a scrappy teenager, before he even got the serum. The kind of guy who Bucky would inevitably have to knock the lights out of in order to protect Steve. That kind of guy objectively did not belong with someone like you.

Bucky has to shake his head ever so slightly. It's a dangerous line of thinking. God, he doesn't even know you. He's met you once, and you'd exchanged only a few words. Irrespective of how nice you seem, how entrancing you are, he doesn't know you. It hardly matters whether or not your relationship with Walker is genuine. It shouldn't matter to him. It really shouldn't bother him.  

But it does, and that fact alone is almost as bad as the fact that John Walker is the new Captain America. It causes the same bitter feeling to swell in his chest.

Sam and Bucky fall into line next to each other, walking side-by-side, the dull noises of their footsteps hitting the pavement reverberating throughout the streets. There's a comfortable silence between the two of them. Words aren't needed now. They often aren't. For all of their antagonisation, they can understand each other perfectly fine with a single glance. That's what comradery is.

There are neon lights that illuminate the streets in shocking tones of red and turquoise, reflected in stray puddles that pool in the potholes of the roads. The lights seem dulled, boring despite their vividity. He'd seen brightness before. It didn't look like a street sign. It looked like the curve of your smile and the silent rage you directed at John Walker.

---

Bucky's flat is near-barren. 

As much as he hates empty rooms - they remind him of cold cells in underground bases that he wishes more than anything that he could forget - he's also come to the realization that he very much hates rooms that have too much furniture. 

They all feel uncomfortable, unfamiliar, a bastardisation of a normal life that he feels he has no right to live. He's so unused to the feeling of a mattress beneath him that the floor next to his bed is easier for him to sleep on. And he hates that, too. 

The simple inability to slip back into a normal life makes him feel woefully inadequate, like there's still something deeply wrong with him despite the fact that the command words had long since been removed from his mind.

Sam had returned to his own home a while ago, leaving Bucky utterly alone in the flat.

 It's not necessarily loneliness that he feels, but it is a kind of numbness that is close to it - the dulled pain of loss. Perhaps, if everything had gone the way he meant for it to, he would be sharing this place with Steve - Steve who would take a bullet for him, fight any force in this universe or the next for him. Steve who would probably encourage him to sleep in the bed and not on the floor next to it. 

That realisation prompts him to shuck off his leather jacket, toss it into the recesses of his room and try to distract himself.

He runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes and just revelling in the darkness. Mindlessly, he sits down on the very edge of his bed, already knowing that he won't be sleeping there. It seems somewhat pointless to even try. 

Despite the Soldier being gone, there are some effects of his presence that linger. Slowly, he's been getting better, but there are a few traits he doesn't know whether or not he'll ever have the courage to discard. Sleeping on the floor is one of them. That constant need to be vigilant is another. Often it manifests itself as paranoia, and at other times as staring.

Oh god, the staring.

Bucky knew it could be bad sometimes - Sam made remarks about it often enough - but today, he really felt like he couldn't help himself. 

Maybe he shouldn't have stared at you so much. It probably wasn't welcome. In fact, it had been described as 'unnerving' and 'creepy' more than once. But there was just something about you that made him not want to look away.

His eyes flutter open and he lets out a ragged groan of frustration, a low noise that originates at the back of his throat. 

Somehow, every little nagging thought always leads back to you, which is inconvenient to say the least. He does have to keep telling himself that he doesn't know you, mentally repeating those words like a mantra, instructing himself to just leave that train of thought alone completely, and to discard any and every thought that pertains to you. You're with Walker. He doesn't know you - but he could.

Bucky takes in a deep breath, hand digging through the pocket of his trousers, emerging with his phone. The internet was a pretty vast thing that had initially taken quite some getting used to, especially when he was still living in Romania. It had been difficult to become comfortable with the amount that society had progressed whilst he was with HYDRA. 

He still couldn't get used to the music or some of the fashion trends. By the time he got to living in Wakanda, he was more than used to the intricacies of modern day technology, despite the fact that once he came out of cryogenic freezing he lived a fairly simple lifestyle.

He can't really resist searching your name.

 Immediately, article after article pops up, all with headlines about you and Walker. Bucky lets out a minor, quiet noise of discontentment, opting to avoid the articles and instead look at the videos, the interviews that you had given. In most of them, you're accompanied by Walker, and occasionally by Battlestar, too. Bucky absolutely does not want to watch those ones. It feels like John simply sitting next to you is somehow corruptive.

There are a select few interviews where, mercifully, you're by yourself. Some of them are from your earlier days, where you're dressed in black leather, which was absolutely a confusing wardrobe choice. 

Privately, he much prefers you in the sundress and the pale colours. In the one that he chooses to watch, you're dressed in another sundress - this one's a pale sort of pink with tiny, blooming white flowers dotted over it. For some inexplicable reason, Bucky thinks he prefers you like this - innocent, summery, and not a pale imitation of somebody who was meant to be scary - not that you had the potential to make him afraid in the slightest.

You're in some room, sitting in front of a grand, white window, seated on a wicker chair opposite the interviewer. There's a few potted plants dotted around the floor, aloe vera, lavender, a cheese plant and some other flowers that are in full bloom, their soft petals unfurled. You're beaming happily as the interviewer begins, soft sunlight spilling over your profile, warming your skin.

"It's a pleasure to finally have the opportunity to interview you - and you're so kind to let us into your house like this." The interviewer says, looking between your angelic visage and their copious sheets of notes, each one full of questions and follow-up questions that they were desperate to ask you.

Ah. That makes sense - all the plants. You seemed like the type to like them.

"The pleasure's all mine." You say, and yes, there it is. That transfixing look about you that he's slightly hooked on now that he's seen it in real life. It's a bit addictive to watch you, and god, even just thinking that does very much make him feel wrong.

"How about we get started, then?" The interviewer says conversationally. "You know, every single person in America is curious about you. I'm just here to ask the questions on everybody's minds! Just who are you? Come on, tell us about yourself."

You don't flounder. Not even for a second. You're utterly effortless in the interviews just as you had been mere feet away from him. "Well, I'm just your average girl, really. I'm nothing special, I promise you. Honestly, I'm so grateful that everybody loves me so much. I really wasn't expecting it."

Sitting there, a serene expression on your face, you sound utterly bashful, humbled and sweet in a way that wasn't quite the same as it had been in real life.

God, seeing you in real life was different to the interview. You had been, for a lack of a better word, better than how he expected. He'd anticipated meeting female John Walker, arrogant, self-assured and willing to try to strong-arm him into fighting for their team, more like Walker's puppy than your own individual person.

 And you were nothing like that - you'd challenged Walker, hell, you even seemed reluctant to touch the guy at first, and then, you'd laughed and smiled devastatingly sweetly whenever Bucky would agitate him.

" - oh yes, my favourite flowers are - " You're still talking sweetly but he's only capturing fragments of what you're saying.

It's hard to focus on your exact words when you've shifted slightly, and that sundress has slid up your thighs ever so slightly, exposing more of your legs to Bucky's heated gaze.

 Fuck - you don't even realise what you're doing and how it's making him feel. You're just innocently trying to get through an interview, talking about something mundane, like your houseplants, and it has Bucky's imagination running wild.

If Sam were here, he would definitely be sensing impropriety right about now.

Bucky swallows thickly, biting his lower lip in an effort to stifle the ragged breath he's struggling to take. It feels almost like there's no air left in his lungs. It's all too easy for him to picture you, right there in front of him, giving him that lovely saccharine smile, your lips pulled upwards. You'd saunter into his room, sundress skirting against your thighs, and he would be utterly enraptured.

He clears his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for just a fraction of a second. He could practically feel the blood rushing south, pooling downwards until his cock was pitching a tent, straining uncomfortably against his dark jeans. 

Bucky can't even bring himself to feel any shame - he's just chasing a sensation, chasing a fantasy of you as he tugs his jeans down, shucking them off and discarding them, letting them land somewhere near his leather jacket.

With an unsteady breath, he shuffles back awkwardly onto the bed. Without so much as a second thought, he's pulling his boxers down his thighs and resting his flesh hand against his cock. He's beyond hard, steely even, and Bucky has to bite back a groan. Even the touch of his own hand doesn't offer him much relief.

He discards his phone, letting the interview keep playing, just listening to your cadence and the entrancing way you spoke, not really picking up on the words themselves.

It's all too easy to imagine you being here, in that tiny little sundress, stalking towards him. He'd want you to straddle him, your thighs framing his, sundress riding up, exposing more of your legs. He'd push the fabric up, and instruct you to hold it there. 

You'd probably give him something like a shy little nod and that dazzling smile of yours, your hands fisting the fabric and holding it up.

Fuck - it was all just too good to think about.

Bucky's grip on his cock tightens as he slowly strokes himself. He could easily tug the top part of the sundress down, too, to expose your tits. Maybe he'd even play with them for a bit, licking, nipping and sucking until there's a constellation of bruises and bites decorating your decolletage.

You'd probably beg, all whiney and breathy and absolutely desperate for him, struggling to maintain your hold on your dress, your fingers twitching as you pushed your chest towards him. It would be fucking lovely. He would finally pull away, admiring his work before bothering to address your needs. He'd trail his hands up your thighs.

He had to wonder exactly what you were wearing underneath it. White? Black? Lacey? A tiny little thong that rises high on your hips, the kind he can easily rip off with his bare hands or push aside? 

Or fuck, even more addicting, what if you weren't wearing any at all? His fingers would smooth up your thighs as you trembled, meeting your bare cunt.

Bucky doesn't even bother to try to quell the groan that rises up within him at that thought. God, that would be nice. You'd be wet - so wet, dripping, coating his fingers and trickling down your thighs. He'd rest his dark, metal hand on your waist whilst the fingers on his other hand ran eagerly through your folds, teasing your clit as he memorised all of the little sounds he could pull from you before he'd plunge two fingers into you.

You'd cry out, and he'd swallow the sound with his mouth, crushing his lips to yours and letting you gasp into his mouth. When he finally pulls away from you, fingers knuckle deep inside of you, your face would be painted a bright red, and your lips would be swollen as you begged him, fucking begged him to fuck you.

He'd deny you at first, watching you tremble and twitch on his fingers, practically fucking yourself on them.

Bucky would stroke at your clit, tracing tiny circles over it and watching your face contort in pure, unadulterated pleasure. He'd let you get off on his hand first. Would your eyes roll back into your head? Would you scream for him, yelling out his name? Would you get even wetter, impossibly making his fingers even slicker, fucking soaking him? You'd probably seize up, your spine going rigid, your mouth tumbling open and your walls flutter around his finger, convulsing uncontrollably.

And then, only then, would he fuck you.

God, you'd take his cock so well. 

Maybe the stretch of it would be a bit much at first and you'd squirm in his hold, his metal arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you impaled on him. The noises you would make would be utterly lovely - whines and fragments of pleads that never quite get finishes because you keep interrupting yourself with your own moans.

Eventually, he'd have you in his lap, your legs folded over his, one of your hands holding up your sundress so he can see his cock entering you, pushing you open, the other resting on his face. You'd bounce on his cock, whimpering like a kitten, biting at your bottom lip whilst he stared at you in awe.

You would be good - so, so good, tight and hot around him, absolute perfection.

He'd mark your neck up too, so that it'd match your tits, leaving tiny, bloodied indentations of his teeth up the column of your throat, soothing the sting by laving his tongue over them, the taste of your blood blooming on his tongue.

'Walker's girl' his ass.

It wouldn't be John fucking Walker whose name you were crying out. It would be his. It'd be his love bites littering your neck, and it would be his come leaking out from your cunt, trickling down your thighs.

He's relentlessly fucking his fist at this point, grunting and groaning at the mental image of you riding him to completion, snug around his cock, begging for him. There's some deep, nigh unholy pleasure building within him, ripping through him like a hurricane.

"God, fuck -" Bucky comes almost violently with a cry of your name, jerking quickly, hot come spilling over his knuckles. The pearly white beads trail down his hand, oozing onto the bed sheets.

He can still hear that interview playing, your melodic voice grounding him as he comes down from his high. 

You're talking about some sport you had played in high school, and the interviewer is lapping it up, eager for your attention and the exclusive interview. Bucky's chest is heaving, rising and falling heavily as he struggles to catch his breath.

Was it probably wrong to get off whilst thinking about another man's girlfriend? Yes. But, Bucky didn't particularly care, not when he'd just had quite possibly the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life, and especially not when it was 'Walker's girl' he was getting off to. 

Walker probably couldn't make you come if his life depended on it. But Bucky would.

It's definitely strange that he wants you so badly. Maybe he just wants to take something from Walker the way that Walker had taken the mantle of Captain America. 

He didn't really know how he'd react if he ever had to see you again. There's no way he can look at you in any non-sexual capacity, and he can just sense that this won't be the last time he comes whilst thinking about you.

It's probably for the best then, that he'll be staying out of Walker's way. There will be much less temptation on his part to interfere with your relationship. Yes, it's definitely for the best. He's probably just stressed and overworked, and that was the reason he felt the need to fuck his hand whilst thinking. about you. Just stress. And it's not exactly wrong to want to relieve that stress, is it? No. Not at all.

This is perfectly fine, and even if it wasn't, he wouldn't be seeing you again.

---

Just as Bucky had been getting ready to go out for the morning, dressed in jeans and some dark jacket that did a reasonable enough job of hiding the distinctive metal arm, a loud rapping reverberated through his apartment.

Immediately, he's frowning, and some of that old, ever-present paranoia is reawakening, like it's coming out of a coma, its dormancy ending abruptly. He pauses, slowing his gait and balling his hands into fists, bracing himself.

The knock doesn't sound like anybody he knows. It's not Sam - Sam either barges in, makes one single loud bang, or will just yell obscenities until Bucky stumbles out of his flat to meet him. This knock, a gentle rapping, is softer, more polite, and unfamiliar. If he's lucky, it'll have been just somebody who had got the wrong apartment number, or who wasn't yet aware that the previous tenant had moved out. It happened sometimes.

This knock could have a perfectly reasonable explanation behind it - it could be an honest mistake, or some unfortunate door to door salesperson whom he was about to scare off. Still, despite the fact it could be innocuous, it does have him on edge.

Cautiously, Bucky approaches the door, taking in a deep breath as he undoes the latches one by one. Slowly, he opens the door. It feels like ripping off a bandaid. To his surprise, it's neither somebody who's out to hurt him, nor somebody who's got the wrong apartment number.

It's you, standing outside of his door, wearing another one of your pale sundresses and a knitted cardigan, looking like something out of one of his dreams.

So much for not seeing you again.

Maybe he just had exceptionally bad luck, or the universe hated him. That absolutely had to be what it was - some grand, sadistic cosmic being had it out for him and was desperate to make his life hard.

Why the hell were you here? Was Walker sending you to harass him? That would be objectively cruel, and an unfitting punishment just for rejecting the opportunity to work with him. And - how the hell had you found his flat? That absolutely wasn't meant to be information available to anyone.

"Walker's girl?" He says, staring down at you, frowning. 

Bucky doesn't dare call you by your name, not when the last time he said it was when he was coming all over his own hand. He hates the fact that he calls you that, and even more than that, he hates the wince you make. It's perfectly understandable that you don't like being called that, irrespective of whether it's accurate or not. Which he hopes it isn't. And then he resents himself for even being bothered by whether it's true or not. 

He doesn't fucking know you. He shouldn't care.

You remind him of your name - as if he could ever fucking forget it. You brush it off pretty quickly though, smiling up at him. "Mr. Barnes, do you mind if we talk?"

Bucky is very much not enjoying the emotional turmoil you're putting him through. "Sure. Come in. And it's just Bucky."

He most definitely should not be letting you in. That would be a bad decision and he especially didn't want to get ideas about you whilst you were in his flat. And yet, he found himself readily opening the door and welcoming you in, before closing the door after you.  

You make your way into his flat, looking at him gratefully.

"What's the deal with you and Walker?" The words tumble from Bucky's mouth, gruff and awkward, before he can even think to stop them.

A look of mild confusion passes over your face as you blink up at him. "Oh, John? I mean, we're not really a couple."

"I thought not." Bucky says, feigning impassiveness, even though there's absolutely nothing neutral or disinterested about the hopeful feeling that blooms in his stomach.

"Yeah. It was meant to be good for his public image, you know. The all-American guy with the perfect relationship. And I have debt I need to pay off - tuition and all that - and they compensate me for my time." You explain, laughing lightly. It sounds like bells chiming in the wind, and awakens in him some long forgotten memory of watching the sunset. It's reminiscent of something, someplace happier where his head was a whole lot lighter.

Bucky actually feels a genuine bolt of relief skirt down his spine. Of course he had been right. There was no way that Walker could get with somebody as good as you, somebody who seemed very much like an angel put on earth.

Your eyebrows tug slightly downward, "Was it obvious?"

"You looked like you'd rather have been anywhere else."

That prompts a peal of laughter from you, and all traces of concern simply evaporate from your visage, quickly forgotten. "Yeah, I suppose so. John can be...difficult at times. He's very strong-willed and we don't always get along."

"You two seem to get along well enough on camera," Bucky remarks, voice lower than he intended for it to be. Really, he doesn't want this to descend into some kind of interrogation, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

"I'm a decent actress," You say with a shrug. "And we normally do our TV appearances when we're getting along. John's not always easy to get along with, but occasionally we manage to put it all behind us. It may seem scummy, I guess. We are practically lying to everyone, but I do need the money and it's easy work."

It further reassures him - of what, Bucky doesn't quite know, but he doesn't feel half as on edge as he had been earlier.

You're not Walker's. He fucking knew it.

He couldn't possibly even conceive of a universe in which you would ever even consider Walker's advances. That bastard was lucky you even looked in his direction.

"I get that." Bucky says understandingly, a tentative smile playing across his face, his lips quirking upwards.

"I do actually have a reason for being here, Bucky." You say, sighing softly.

Oh. Yes. Of course you did. He'd almost forgotten that you needed a reason to visit - this wasn't a social call, of course it wasn't. The two of you had only ever met once, no matter how well he thought he knew you after having seen what is probably hours worth of footage of you. It's probably not a good thing that he's feeling so familiar with you - no, it's definitely not a good thing that he's feeling so familiar with you. In fact, it's probably very bad, especially with his proclivity for avoiding any form of emotional vulnerability or attachment.

"I...have the clearance to access some information that may benefit you." You say. Right now, you're being the most serious he'd ever seen you. There was a sort of solemn expression about you - your mouth set in a firm line rather than a happy smile - it's bordering on grave, and he's immediately compelled to listen, a frown forming on his face.

"Yes?"

"You and John both want the same thing, but you're not going to work together. I know for a fact you won't, and I really don't blame you. He's planning on going to see Zemo for information about the serum."

Bucky doesn't even tense up at the name. Helmut Zemo is an absolute bastard who had almost ruined his life, in addition to temporarily forcing him into a dangerous headspace, into a part of himself that, at that point, was very much present and very much not under control. 

But now, the codewords are gone. They won't activate shit. Zemo's practically been neutered in that regard. He may not be able to invoke the Winter Soldier, but the mere mention of his name absolutely does invoke some kind of visceral, biblical rage that howls for revenge.

It's the kind of anger of the Old Testament, though Bucky isn't much for religion these days - the kind of anger that is desperate for 'an eye for an eye', to make Zemo hurt just as much as Zemo had hurt him. For retribution.

"We were planning on seeing him, too." Bucky says, a little stiffly, though he retains his composure.

"You'll want to get there before John does. He's planning on telling the guards not to let you in - Zemo will have his visitation rights revoked and you won't even be let on the premises."

Bucky lets out a tiny noise of irritation, a bitter little sound that originates in the very back of his throat. Of course, of fucking course Walker wouldn't be content with just working separately from himself and Sam. 

Rather than just let it be, he'd try to actively obstruct their ability to work on the case - to help people. There was something about Walker's willingness to possibly prevent a breakthrough for the sake of his own ego that left a very bitter taste in Bucky's mouth. It was a complete stain on Steve's legacy.

"You have two days until John and Lemar visit Zemo. They'll probably be alerted when you show up, though, so I suspect you won't have long." You continue.

There's a possibility that you are working with Walker and this is all part of some elaborate scheme to impede his involvement in this. You could be lying through your teeth. 

You had already told him you were a decent actress, and he definitely believed that to be true. Anybody that could be lovesick around John fucking Walker was either delusional or worthy of an oscar. Bucky was inclined to believe you were the latter.

That story about needing money for tuition made sense, and it also seemed reasonable that Walker's PR team would want to give him a girlfriend. A similar kind of thing had happened with Steve back in the forties. He'd been made to do all sorts of stupid campaigns, and a lot of them had involved pretty women like yourself who were willing to act, hell, even sing and dance, for the money.

Bucky wants to believe you're genuine. Surely he'd be able to tell if you're lying - he's good at that, at identifying people's tells and the falsehoods they're spewing.

"Thanks for the heads up." He says somewhat gruffly as he looks down at you.

"Lemar had a lead on the medicine and vaccines, too. But I don't know exactly what he's found." There's something about the way that you sigh that indicates frustration. "It's difficult to get information out of him. He's nice and all, but we're not close enough that he's willing to divulge a lot."

Bucky's slight frown deepens and he steps just a little closer to you, revelling in the fact that you don't stumble back or glance at the door. You're not afraid of him in any capacity.

"You're fishing for information for us? Why?"

That's the one thing he can't work out. Why show up here? Why bother to give him the warning? What could you possibly have to gain from it?

"It's the right thing to do." You say simply, that solemness receding from your pretty face to allow that sweet smile to return. "Whether it be you or John, somebody has to bring these guys down. It's only fair that you both have the same information, and I can get it to you."

How lovely. God, how had you managed to embody the spirit of Captain America more than the man who carried the shield?

"Right, right." Bucky doesn't even have a hard time accepting the answer. He should - he should poke and prod at your motives, but he doesn't want to. He finds that the desire to do good for the world is sufficient enough, especially when it comes to you. Because of course you want to help people, of course you want to help him - as if you hadn't been perfect enough already.

"I'm looking into the camps, too. It's hard to narrow the parameters, though. There's just so many of them." You say, somewhat aghast, like you're disappointed that they even exist in the first place. 

There's a haunted kind of expression in your eyes, like you'd seen too much. And you probably had. Looking into all of those camps, rampant with disease, crime and horrifically painful deaths, couldn't have been easy, especially if you weren't acclimated to something so macabre or devastating.

"Hey," Bucky places a hand on your shoulder - the human hand - and he can feel the soft texture of your knitted cardigan beneath his fingers, as well as the heat radiating from your body. "Thank you. I appreciate it. You're doing the right thing. You're good."

Words of encouragement are somewhat difficult for him to come up with. He has no idea what will reassure you, so he just tells you what he knows to be true and it's enough. It's more than enough judging by the way your eyes light up and you smile at him. There's something almost devastating about that smile, and knowing that he had been the one to cause it.

"Thanks," You say, your voice barely above a whisper, voice a little hoarse. Oh. Oh. Your pupils were blown wide, and you were staring at him intently.

He falters for a fraction of a second, wondering if he'd done something wrong. And then it dawns on him - you'd liked the praise.

You had fucking liked it when he praised you. Well, shit. The rush he got from that realisation alone made him feel nearly high, like his head was in the clouds and he'd just done copious amounts of illegal substances. It was addicting, in short.

It's then and only then that he actually notices just how close the two of you are, and suddenly he's revisiting the thought that maybe letting you into his flat wasn't such a good idea.

 Bucky can very nearly feel your skin beneath his hand. Having you here is such a unique brand of torture - you're exquisitely close, and you're looking at him like whatever it is that's between you, this mad, mutating attraction is reciprocated. It all feels a little too good to be true.

You probably shouldn't be looking at him like that. There was no way that the attraction he felt could be reciprocated. No way whatsoever.

"I should probably give you my number," You say, your voice still a little low - if anything, it's become silkier. Sultry, even, and it has Bucky's head spinning. "I'll send you everything I have."

"Yeah," He says, somewhat breathlessly. It's with a deep reluctance that he drops his hand from your shoulder, already missing the warmth and the closeness. 

He probably shouldn't have touched you in the first place. You were so small next to him, dressed in your pale little sundress, cardigan slipping down one of your arms, pooling at your elbow to reveal a single, unblemished shoulder. There's something almost painfully innocent about you, the complete antithesis to him.

He had been a killer a thousand times over. Bucky had taken more lives than he could even begin to count, and despite his best efforts to reconcile and to make amends for it, his hands were still stained red with blood. They didn't deserve to touch you, no matter how badly he wants to.

Suddenly, you're turning away from him, snatching a piece of paper that had been lying around his flat and scrawling a series of numbers onto the back of it - your phone number. Without so much as a second thought, he's peering over your shoulder as you write them, eyes carefully following every digit that you inscribe.

You whirl around, paper clutched tightly in one hand and settling the other on his chest, fingers ghosting over his shirt. You're so, so close - a mere matter of inches away from him, and your hand is directly over his heart. Hopefully you can't feel the way it beats slightly faster as a result of the contact.

There was a high chance that if it had been anybody else, Bucky would have avoided their touch and shirked the vulnerability. He liked being in control of himself, which often translated in remaining isolated. But he doesn't really want you to take your hand off his chest. He doesn't want that at all. In fact, he'd much prefer it if you touched more of him.

The tension is literally palpable, hanging about the air like a thick fog. No, more like smoke really, with the way your presence threatened to asphyxiate him.

"Bucky," You say, so softly, your voice dripping with reverence. There's just something about the way you whisper his name that's so much better than any fantasy he could ever concoct. He's half-certain that you're going to drop your hand from his chest or shove him away, admonish him for getting too close. But you don't. Your hand remains pressed against him, fingers splayed over his torso.

He can't help but say your name in turn, his voice raspy as he looks down at you. Carefully, he takes the paper with your number on it from your hands and sets it down on one of the countertops. And still, you don't remove your hand from him. You're looking up at him and your eyes are so dark, tumultuous pits of lust that bore right through him.

Bucky leans ever so slightly closer to you, his flesh hand cupping your jaw. His index finger is curled under your chin, and the pad of his thumb is resting on your plump lower lip. In response to his touch, your lips part ever-so-slightly, and he can feel your breath ghosting over his flesh in light, shallow puffs of air.

"Do you want this?" He asks, his voice a low rasp, rough and bordering on ragged. It feels very much like he's entered dangerous territory. This is like playing with fire whilst being desperate to get burnt. He just needs to be sure. He's desperate for that reassurance, for you to explicitly say that he's not crazy or creepy, that this is mutual.

"Yes," You say, lip moving against his thumb as you speak.

In an instant, he's moving his thumb to caress your cheek and then crushing his mouth to yours. There's something utterly greedy about the way he consumes you, teeth smacking together, tongues roving throughout each others mouths, completely plunderous in nature. Because that is what he's doing - consuming you, entirely ravenous in the way his lips press repeatedly against yours.

Your hands become fisted in his shirt and jacket, and his metal arm wraps around your waist, crushing your chest to his, anchoring the two of you together. It seems as if you've gone weak in the knees. You practically crumble against him, pressing yourself into his torso until his metal arm is the only thing that's holding you up.

Oh. This was definitely reciprocated.

There was absolutely no need for him to wallow in guilt or shame or wish not to see you - because you wanted him to. It didn't fucking matter whether or not his hands were stained red, not when all you wanted was for them to touch you.

All too soon, your mouths part slightly and you're panting against one another. Your lips are red, beautifully swollen, and wet with saliva. With a mixture of his and your saliva.

"Tell me to stop," Bucky mumbles heatedly against your lips. "Tell me to stop and I will. I'll never touch you again. I promise."

It's a promise he won't want to keep. Not when he feels like a single kiss has completely fucking ruined him for anybody else.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" You whisper, gazing at him with this blazing fire in your eyes, challenging him.

"Do you want me to keep going?" He asks, and he's afraid of the answer. He has no idea what he wants - he's partially inclined to want to avoid the emotional implications of getting involved with you like this, of succumbing to your allure, but he also very much wants you to say yes, to beg him to touch you like you need nothing else more than you need him.

You tremble against his chest, a soft, keening whine tumbling from your mouth that has Bucky feeling dizzy, like the world had just tilted on its axis without any warning. It's a delightful little noise, melodious and sinful. It was so, so much better than he had imagined. He can barely refrain from rutting against you, high off the sound of your moans.

"Yes." You sound absolutely fucking devastated, pushed into abject neediness. He's reduced you to some kind of desperate mess, clinging to his chest like he's a lifeline, like you're remiss to let go of him.

And fuck, that one simple word is all the confirmation he needs.

 Every single disparaging thought shatters to pieces, demolished by your eager moans. The way your chest wracks with sudden shudders, the way you breathe unevenly, perpetually unable to get enough air in your lungs as he keeps stealing it from you, your dilated pupils and your desire for his touch is all for him. 

It's intoxicating.

Eagerly, he presses his mouth back against yours, revelling in the way you groan into his mouth, your eyes fluttering closed so your lashes can rest against your cheeks. Fisted into his shirt are your hands, bunched up in the fabric, constantly tugging him towards you in eternal desperation for more contact.

In the next moment, he's using the metal arm curved around your waist to hoist you into the air, letting your feet hover above the ground. It's all too easy for him to lift you. 

Your legs had long since turned to jelly, your knees weakened and buckling. Your weight isn't a burden. He could toss a car around if he felt the urge to, which he doesn't. That is absolutely not even close to the urges he's having right now - the urges to make his fantasies a reality, to experience every lewd thought about you that had flitted through his head.

You release a small noise of surprise that Bucky eagerly swallows, biting at your bottom lip and memorising the delightful noises that the action pulled from you.

With his arm anchoring you to his chest, and you quite literally swept off your feet, it's easy for him to maneuver you through his flat, keeping his lips connected to yours as he walks you through to his bedroom.

The only time Bucky's mouth leaves yours is when he relinquishes his steely hold on you, laying you down gently on his bed, letting you rest atop his plain sheets, your sundress riding upwards. 

And even then, he doesn't allow that separation to last long, clambering on top of you and surging forwards, capturing your lips again.

He's practically caging you in with his arms, allowing you no opportunity for escape. 

Your fingers slowly unfurl from their previous position where they're been fisted, harshly gripping the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in what had been a successful effort to bring him closer to you. Now, your hands are wandering, beginning to explore. They roam freely, smoothing over his chest, tracing indecipherable shapes and fragments of words across his torso.

They easily pause at the lapels of his jacket, tugging it off with precision. Bucky has to move his arms slightly to help you divest him of the item of clothing, and he flings it somewhere across the room, not even bothering to check where it's landed. A single item of clothing seems totally irrelevant when you're beneath him, writhing at his touch.

"Please," You say between intense kisses, eyes blown wide with lust. Your pupils have expanded immeasurably, leaving a tiny ring of colour around them. "Off," You demand, tugging at his shirt.

Bucky chuckles, the low noise reverberating throughout his chest, making his torso rumble under your hands. Grinning, he pulls the shirt up and discards that too, leaving himself in just his jeans and you in your pale sundress and knitted cardigan. It's then that he falters, realising you can see the arm - of fucking course you would see the arm. There was no way that you wouldn't. It was just another horror of his existence that couldn't be avoided.  

Strangely, though, you don't look at it in abject horror, reminded of his crimes, of the despicable acts of violence he had committed in the name of HYDRA.

Instead, you look at it reverently, one of your hands coming up to trace the grooves in the arm. 

It was darker than any of his previous ones, a midnight matte black with stunning strips of gold running through the divots between panels. You trace the labyrinth of steady golden lines gently, fingertips tracing over the plates that comprised it. You were just as gentle with it as you were with the rest of him. His breath hitches in a way that is utterly obvious, though you don't outwardly react to it.

Your hand skirts down his metal arm, your fingertips coming to rest against the palm of his hand. The two of you aren't quite holding hands, but you very nearly are. Softly, so devastatingly softly, you tug the dark metal hand towards your face.

And you turn his metal hand over, planting a soft kiss to the centre of his palm before releasing it.

It was rather lovely, really. It made his chest swell up with some emotion that evaded description. Immediately, he's going back to kissing you, licking up into the cavern of your mouth, wordlessly showing you just how much he appreciated the small gesture.

Then, Bucky's mouth begins to traverse away from yours. He plants kisses down the column of your throat, only pausing in his quest to stick his nose into your neck, inhaling strongly. Your skin had a scent - a beautiful, honeyed kind of scent that he could very easily gain an addiction to. Fuck, everything about you was easy to gain an addiction to.

Before long, he's going back to suckling at the skin of your neck, interspersing his licking and sucking with bites that make your spine arch and prompt you to groan loudly. This great expanse of smooth, soft skin is available to him and he intends to take full advantage of it, making your skin bloom like some otherworldly piece of artwork, covered in red and purpled bruises. Interspersed between them were perfect iterations of his teeth, little crimson indentations from his incisors.

There was something absolutely animalistic about marking you up, covering you in aching bruises with his mouth alone. There was something about it that made him feel like he was laying claim to your skin, warding off anybody else who so much as dared to want you, somebody like John fucking Walker.

He probably shouldn't feel thrilled at the prospect of other people seeing you like this, your neck collared with a constellation of bruises and bitemarks that he had put there. Especially if it's one of your PR team, or even Walker himself.

Bucky pulls away from you, admiring the absolute mess he had made of you. Your hair is haloed around you on his bed, your throat is blotched in various shades of red and purple, your lips are swollen, your eyes are blown wide, and your nipples have pebbled against the fabric of your sundress. You look so fucking beautiful.

With some great urgency, Bucky divests you of your knitted cardigan, flinging it away and discarding it with some of his clothes. With his flesh hand, he eagerly tugs down the top-half of your dress, sliding the thin, flimsy little straps down your arms and pulling the fabric over your chest away to expose your breasts to his hungry eyes.

"Fuck," He breathes, shuffling forwards, one shin planted either side of your torso as you lay down, looking up at him in awe.

Bucky lets out a low noise of approval, sliding his hands up to your tits and squeezing them, earning him a strangled sort of noise that rips itself from the back of your throat. He pulls, tugs and pinches, listening intently to the different kinds of moans you reward him with - if he tweaks your nipple just right, you'll give him a breathy cry of his name.

"You like that, hm? You like my hands on your tits?"

"Yes, yes I do," You whimper. The metal hand and the human hand offer very different sensations. The flesh hand is warm, calloused, trembling slightly against your skin. The dark, metal hand with streaks of gold through it is no less dexterous than the organic one. It is, however, slightly colder to the touch, and smoother, comprised of plates of metal that don't have much of a texture. Both make you arch into their touch, perpetually desperate for more.

Bucky really can't help himself. He lowers his head, licking a broad stripe up one of your tits, eagerly mouthing at it whilst he tugs on the nipple of the other one, constantly keeping his mouth occupied. You're wrapping your hands around the back of his head, splaying your fingers over his skull, making desperate little noises as you drag your hands through his short hair.

He has you a squirming, pleading mess beneath him as his tongue roams over your chest, as he alternated between sucking, biting and pinching, watching reddish marks bloom over your torso. He's very much set on making your chest match your neck, painting it with bruises. There's something about this - the marking - that makes him feel absolutely feral, like some kind of rabid animal giving in to its most base urges.

"Please," You're begging for him - fucking begging. When he glances up, he can see your lips trembling, the perspiration beaded at your hairline and your glossy eyes. You look absolutely wrecked, and you sound it, too. Bucky's half tempted to ignore your pleas, but he doesn't want to be cruel. Not with you.

"Please what, doll?" The affectionate word slips from his lips and he hadn't even thought to stop it. "Do you want me to touch you here instead?"

His flesh hand slides down from where it had been cupping your tit, ghosting along your clothed ribs, down the plane of your belly. His touch prompts you to moan, despite the fact his hand isn't making contact with your bare skin. Not yet, at least. It's fascinating how receptive you are - so good for him. 

Bucky keeps going, smoothing his hand down the curve of your hip, tugging your sundress up to expose more of your legs to him. His hand splays over the top of your thigh, thumb resting at the junction of your thighs, concealed by the very edge of your sundress.

You do something that surprises him. With a desperate groan, you reach down and grab his hand, tugging it towards your cunt. "No. I want you to touch me here, instead."

Well, fuck.

The very tips of his fingers meet your panty-clad sex, and immediately Bucky is using his metal arm to yank the bottom part of your sundress upwards, folding it up onto your stomach. Really, it's been reduced to a scrap of white fabric bunched around your waist, having been previously tugged down over your tits.

The panties were lacey. White. With thin, flimsy pieces of lace running up your hips. Bucky takes in a deep breath, staring intently at the slightly translucent patch over your pussy, the delicate fabric saturated, made wet by your liquid arousal. His fingers drift up over it almost in awe. Fuck, you're soaked. Absolutely soaked for him - all for him.  

Bucky's fingers retreat from their position, but only temporarily. He slides your panties over, pushing them to the side so that he can appreciate your cunt. You gasp, your hand flying off his, where you'd previously been guiding his fingers, slapping over your mouth, barely muffling a groan.

With a renewed sense of confidence, Bucky dips his fingers into your folds. They're slippery - slick is seeping out from your neglected cunt, wetting the inside of your thighs, making them fucking gleam. You're soaked, absolutely dripping onto his fingers as he explores the most intimate part of you, slowly dragging his fingers over your clit and then circling them around your hole. You twitch and moan prettily in response to every tiny movement he makes, hypersensitive and desperate.

"Fuck." Bucky chokes out, dipping a single finger inside of you and admiring the way you convulse around him. Tight, hot and wet. His avid imagination and fucking his fist is one thing, but the sensation of you wrapped around his digit is another thing all together. Some stupid fucking fantasy could never compare - why had he even bothered to imagine that it could?

"God, Bucky, please." You whine helplessly, one hand still clamped over your mouth, muffling your words slightly.

Spurred on by your plea, he crooks his finger, pumping it in and out of you a few times before he adds a second one, using it to push against your walls, spreading them slightly in an effort to scissor you open.

"So fucking wet, aren't you?" Bucky's voice is verging on a growl, utterly animalistic as you gush over his fingers. You shuffle slightly, your hips rising and falling in a stunted rhythm. You're trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, desperately chasing an orgasm, your face contorted in pleasure. The fingers splayed over your jaw are twitching. Every single part of you is affected by him, writhing and trembling, perpetually desperate for more.

"Yes - yes," You chant, your voice a dying whisper, almost lost between your moans and whimpers.

"You're dripping," Bucky remarks, watching in fascination as your slick tumbles in steady streams down his fingers, "Fuck. All for me?"

You not emphatically, moving your head up and down, struggling to look him in the eyes, desperate to let your head fall back against the bedsheets. "Yes."

Bucky's thumb rubs harsh, unforgiving circles over your clit, his forefinger and middle fingers rocking into you, stuffed deep inside your cunt, covered in the slick arousal that's practically pouring out of you. You buck wildly against him, crying out in pleasure.

"Please - I'm gonna," You manage to stutter out, working your hips downwards, grinding onto his fingers, chasing your pleasure.

"Come for me, then." Bucky says.

He's incredibly fixated on every single thing about you as you come undone - the way your walls clamp down on his fingers, clenching tightly around the digits, the way your pretty, lust-blown eyes roll back into your skull, and the absolutely angelic noise that the pleasure he and he alone has brought you tears from your throat. Watching you come undone is wonderful. It's some kind of magical sight, made a thousand times better when you moan his name as you reach the apex of your pleasure. It's so fucking gorgeous that it threatens to make him come in his own pants like some rabidly horny teenage boy.

If Bucky hadn't already been uncomfortable, cock straining his jeans, rutting against the denim almost painfully, he would be by now. Especially when you give him that hazy post-orgasm look, a contented sigh leaving you as you finally remove your hand from where it had been clamped over your mouth.

Slowly, he drags his fingers out from inside of you. They're gleaming, coated in your arousal. Without an ounce of hesitation, he brings them to his mouth, eagerly sucking them clean, his tongue darting over every callous, every wrinkle, every crease on those two fingers, chasing your taste, completely ravenous as the flavour of your cunt explodes over his tongue.

He'd fucking ruined himself. There was nobody else after this. They wouldn't be able to compare to you in any way.

You bat your eyelashes at him, biting your already bruised lower lip seductively. Bucky's looming over you, pulling his saliva-soaked fingers from his mouth, the two of you breathing raggedly, panting like dogs.

Wordlessly, you reach forwards and palm his hard cock through his jeans, squeezing him in a way that leaves Bucky groaning, desperate for more.

"You're gonna let me fuck you, doll?"

"God, please." You breathe, eyes darkening almost imperceptibly. If he hadn't been so close to you then he probably wouldn't have caught it.

Eagerly, he undoes his belt, pulling it free from the confining loops of his jeans, and discarding it. Even as he's divesting himself of his remaining clothes, Bucky's eyes are always on you, watching you intently. 

Oh yes, you definitely sparked his staring problem, especially when you're looking at him with hooded eyes, the expression on your face one of pure lust, pure need for him. Quickly, he pulls his jeans down, readily discarding them, along with his boxers.

Bucky's hard, leaking cock slaps up against his stomach. Taking in a weak, ragged breath, you beckon him closer until he's looming over you again, his chest pressed to yours and his cock jutting into your leg.

"Please, Bucky. Don't tease. Just fuck me."

"Oh, gladly," He quips, lips tugging upwards into an infuriating half-smirk.

Your panties are still pushed to the side, allowing him to run his cock through your folds until it's coated in your warm, slippery arousal. He lines the very tip up, teasing you with it for just a moment, revelling in your breathy whimpers and ensuing pleas. The very head of him catches on your entrance, and he uses it as an opportunity to begin to enter you.

His flesh hand is resting on your hip, fingers curling into your side possessively, the black and gold metal arm being utilised in an effort to keep holding himself up. Your hands, gentle and soft, scrabble to find purchase on the plane of his back, nails raking over his skin, leaving tiny red lines in their wake. Fuck. You were marking him up, too.

 He wasn't even bothered by it. If anything, Bucky was pleased - he'd proudly wear whatever marks you gave him. They were little pieces of you, a litany of evidence that you'd touched him - that you had wanted to touch him.

The very head of his cock breaches you, splitting you open. He's thicker than you had anticipated, but the stretch is welcome. He practically burns you as he enters you the first time, stilling half of the way in to allow you a moment to breathe.

Happily, you writhe against his chest. It burns - but oh god it burns so nicely. The wonderful, near-painful intrusion of him is heavenly.

You're panting into the crook of his neck, frenzied breath ghosting against his throat. "More - please, more."

There isn't a single ounce of reluctance within him as he pushes the rest of his cock into you until he's fully seated.

"So fucking tight," Bucky babbles. His chest is trembling slightly, crushed against yours. There's just so much to feel - so many sensations to comprehend and decipher. You're so tight, gripping his cock like a vice, all wet and warm. It feels like fucking paradise - like some slice of heaven that he'd been gifted. Perhaps some cosmic being didn't have it out for him after all. If they did, there was no way they would allow him this.

Your legs shift, wrapping themselves around his waist, coaxing him deeper inside of you. You're moaning directly into Bucky's ear, your breaths fanning across his neck, fingers digging into his back as you cling desperately to him, saying his name like a prayer.

"Please - move." You're begging, on the verge of sobbing, lips pressed up against the column of his neck, mumbling little indecipherable words that all lead back to him fucking you hard.

And he does. Bucky unrelentingly pistons in and out of you, fucking you into the mattress. It's almost aggressive between the two of you. His hips are snapping up against yours, colliding almost violently, whilst your nails are shredding his back, though he barely feels the pain that he should.

You're a fucking mess. If he's destroyed by this, then you absolutely are, too.

Pathetic, mewling whimpers leave your throat, muffled only by the fact that your mouth is pressed into his neck, though your lips will occasionally move against his skin, your mouth falling open in a near-silent gasp as you try to pull air into your lungs. Your tits, marred by bruises and bitemarks that he had put there, are crushed against his chest. Your legs tremble from where they're almost, but not quite, interlocked around his waist, keeping him as close as possible.

He rocks into you, spearing you on his cock, enraptured by the cacophony of reactions he pulls from you.

"Can John do this? Can John fucking Walker make you feel this good?" Bucky's talking incessantly, those words dripping from his mouth before his mind can even register that the thought had ever even flitted through his brain.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about John fucking Walker whilst he's inside you, whilst his cock is nestled deep in your cunt and you're close to coming for a second time. 

But he is. He looks at the vibrant red and purple bruises that litter your neck and torso, the bite marks across your body, the evidence that he's been here with you, the evidence that you had let him touch you, and he can't help but wonder if Walker had ever done this to you.

He can't help but to wonder if Walker had ever taken you like this, like a fucking animal, leaving his own god-awful marks across your throat, fucking into you with one of those sundresses that you wore whilst masquerading around as his girlfriend bunched around your waist.

Bucky really fucking hoped not.

He couldn't conceive of anything that Walker deserved less than you. Walker may not have really been dating you, but he still got to touch you, to put his hands all over you in those stupid interviews, utterly undeserving of that privilege. Walker didn't have any fucking right, any fucking right at all.

You weren't 'Walker's girl'. You didn't belong to John. And for good reason, too. You were so much better than him - the kind of person who was able to look at the mission objectively, put your differences aside, and feed the other team information. All because you wanted to do the right thing.

You gasp against his shoulder, head falling back onto the bed so that you and Bucky can lock eyes as he ruthlessly pounds into you, the obscene sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room.

"I - fuck - I never fucked John," You say, struggling to even form words.

And god, doesn't that make him glad.

"Yeah?" Bucky challenges you slightly, still grinning as his eyebrows raise a fraction. "And you're not fuckin' gonna."

Walker didn't get to put his filthy paws on you. Bucky wouldn't allow it.

You seize up around his cock, hands grappling at his back, and then sliding over to hold onto his shoulders, the fingers on one of your hands splayed over the seam that ran over his black and golden metal arm. Your fingers gently caress the border between machine and man, gentle, in complete contrast to the way you'd clawed at his back. His blood was probably under your fingernails considering how hard you'd scratched.

"'M so close," You whimper, desperately rolling your hips.

There's something utterly debauched about you. All of that angelisism had easily given way to depravity under his touch. You were practically mewling for him, making these little breathy noises that cause his cock to swell, getting increasingly desperate to climax a second time. That debauchery is located in every single moan that leaves your mouth, in the marks you've scratched into his back and in the way your sundress is bunched around your hips as Bucky fucks you.

"Yeah? Gonna come again?" Bucky asks, breathing raggedly.

He already knows the answer. Of course you're going to come again. He can feel your walls tightening around his cock, constantly fluttering, on the very precipice of your climax. You're close, probably painfully so, and so is he - but he's not gonna come first.

"Mhm," You groan excitedly as Bucky rubs at your clit, sending sparks of pure pleasure racing through your gut.

"Walker couldn't make you come like this," Bucky says more to himself than you, though you seem to really enjoy when he talks, convolusing on his throbbing cock as you desperately chase your high, all whilst he's snapping his hips up into yours, fucking you so hard that at times your eyes will begin to roll back into your skull, and your legs will shake against him. "C'mon, doll. Who are you gonna come for?"

"You. You. You."

"Good girl," He remarks, grinning as you tighten around him. "Fuck, doll. You have the best pussy I've ever fucked - 's mine. Not fucking Walker's. He doesn't get to have you like this. And I do - fuck."

It's then that he spears hard up against something pleasantly devastating inside of you. That sensation, delivered in tandem with Bucky's fingers circling your clit has you coming instantaneously. The barrage of pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, wrenching a cry from within you. You shatter beneath him, falling apart to a thousand pieces, utterly wrecked.

"Bucky," You sob enthusiastically as your orgasm crests, speaking his name over and over again like a prayer, like it's the only word you know.

It was one thing watching you climax on his fingers, and another when it's his cock. It feels otherworldly, watching you come undone as he fucks himself into you. It's probably the best, most arousing thing he's ever seen, you, beneath him, writhing, squirming, calling his name out over and over again.

He doesn't even bother to stave off his own orgasm any longer. It would be impossible of him to even try. If the image of you under him, legs hooked around his waist, trembling from the sheer force of the pleasure he's given you wasn't enough, the fucking heavenly feeling of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock is. You clamp down around him, as tight as a fucking vice.

Bucky's own orgasm barrels into him like a truck. It's a burst of pure, blinding, hot pleasure that rips forth from somewhere in his gut.

It strikes every single nerve ending in his body, and suddenly he's coming, emptying himself inside of you, ropes of his come painting your insides, filling you up.

You both lay there for some time - it could be seconds, or it could be minutes. It's impossible to tell. Time seems hazy when he's with you. He's still laying over you, panting and grinning at the same time. The two of you just smile lazily at each other, completely spent and sated. He shifts most of his weight to be on the metal arm, lest he crush you with his weight.

Eventually, you surrender his hips from your legs, letting him pull out of you and roll onto his back so he can lay next to you whilst you both catch your breath.

Tentatively, you pull the straps of your sundress back up your arms and fix your underwear. Bucky panics internally, quickly turning his head to face you.

"Going somewhere?" He asks, as casually as he could.

"I do have to get back to work," You laugh. It sounds like bells in the wind. "I have an interview tomorrow that I have to prepare for."

Bucky just nods stiffly, trying to quell the internal disappointment rising within him. What the fuck had he been thinking? He shouldn't have touched you in the first place, and now you were probably regretting the fact that you let him fuck you.

"I'll swing by tomorrow with whatever I can find on the medicine," You say, so sweetly. "If that's okay with you?"

"It is, yeah." He says gruffly.

They need the information. The near-devastating disappointment he's feeling right now is irrelevant. Walker and Hoskins have the state's resources at their disposal. 

He and Sam have whatever leads they can scrounge up, and whatever you're willing to give them. Because you're good - so good, and he knows that, but he also feels like he's dying a little bit on the inside because of you.

"Maybe I'll let you take me out to dinner next time."

And Bucky falters, looking at you with wide eyes. "Next time?"

"If you want a next time." You say, avoiding his gaze.

Bucky sits up slightly, cupping your jaw with his hand and gently tilting your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Now, you look enraptured by the sight of him. "I do want a next time."

"Good," Your voice is quiet, a mere whisper, talking to him in soft, hushed tones. "Because I want a next time."

He leans in closer to you, giving you every opportunity to stop him as he lowers his lips to yours. You don't. You don't want to stop him, not when you're completely enchanted. 

Bucky hadn't been the only one that felt rather awestruck that day you'd met outside of the police precinct.

Really, you didn't much like your job. It paid the bills, and kept you ahead on your debt payments, but you didn't like it. The men you worked with lacked the heart that Captain America had. 

And sometimes, the weight of pretending got a bit much for you. It had culminated in your guilt, and ultimately you lying in Bucky Barnes' bed, kissing him tenderly.

"So, I'm sending you back to Walker, huh?" Bucky chuckles as the two of you pull away from each other, proudly eyeing the bruises that descend down your neck and below your, now rumpled and creased, sundress. 

He'd be sending you back to John Walker with small brands of possession bitten all over your torso, not to mention the fact that beads of his come were streaking your inner thighs.

Well, that'd probably show Walker that even though he got to publically call you 'his girl', you'd never belong to him in the most intimate of ways.

Bucky very much wanted Walker to see it - to see what he'd done to you. God, he'd pay so much fucking money to see the look on that bastard's face when he realised the woman he flippantly called 'his girl' was fucking somebody else.

 Not just anybody else, no. She was gladly fucking one of the people that Walker hated the most. Bucky can almost envisage the way Walker's jaw would drop and the rage that would blaze in his eyes.

"I'll be back." You laugh. "As if I'd want to stay away."

Even more beautiful than imagining Walker's reaction, though, was the prospect of you coming back again.

#the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #episode 2 of the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #female reader #smut #bucky barnes smut #john walker #sam wilson #fake dating

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Sleeping together

Series masterlist

Word count: 2497

Genre: Soft angst and fluff

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: A lot of mentions of sex but it is never in a sexual way, brief mentions of past sexual abuse/consent issues (let me know if I need to add any)

Chapter summary: You and Natasha have a bit of a miscommunication but you talk it out and your date night goes much better than planned.

A/n: Okay so this is part five in the flustered series so I finally decided to turn it into a proper series and hopefully by the time this is out I have edited the previous chapters to add proper links and stuff. I forgot who asked for a part five, it might have been an anon, but I hope that person likes it! Because this series isn't planned, I don't have an end goal so if people want more I'll write more but I don't have to if nobody is interested. As with every chapter in this series you don't have to read any of the other chapters for it to make sense, but I do recommend reading them. I hope you enjoy!

“Pass me the plates,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the stack from her hands and carry it over to the sink. She follows and hugs you from behind as you wash, which makes it much more difficult to move but you are definitely not going to complain.

“Hurry up,” she mumbles, resting her head against your back, near where your shoulders meet your neck.

“So demanding,” you tease, “maybe I could be faster if a certain somebody wasn’t restricting my movement.”

“Fine then, you won’t get any hugs,” she says, taking a step back and giving a small laugh when you frown. “I need to set up Netflix first anyways.”

You still frown a little but focus on finishing the dinner cleanup as soon as possible so you can go cuddle with her on the couch. Even after months you still can’t believe that you’re allowed to do things like that. She means absolutely everything to you and although you still haven’t told the rest of the team yet you want to move forward in your relationship a little bit. Which brings you to your current problem; how to ask Natasha to stay the night.

You’re trying not to think about it too much because if you do you know you’ll end up chickening out and you really want to know what it feels like to cuddle as you fall asleep and to wake up next to her. You’ve imagined the smell of her hair in the mornings would be like far more times than you would like to admit. You can’t really help it, there’s something about her that makes you want to always be around her and hug her and protect her from the world. It’s ridiculous you know, she’s a complete badass and you already spend a ton of time together but you want more, as selfish as that sounds.

“The Office or Lucifer?” she asks, scrolling through to get to your continue watching list. “Y/n?”

You curse yourself realizing you heard the question but didn’t actually answer. “Oh um, The Office if that’s alright with you.”

“I wouldn’t have presented that as an option if it wasn’t.” she responds. “Now come here.”

To her obvious displeasure instead of sitting right next to her like always you take the far end of the couch, playing with your hands nervously.

“I was wondering if you would maybe like to stay the night after.” you say, watching her reaction carefully.

“Sleep together?” Her voice and face are blank so you can’t read her reaction at all.

“Yeah.”

Your throat tightens nervously as it seems to take hours to respond when really it’s just a few (way too long) seconds.

“Okay.” She says finally, a little unsure.

“Okay?” You ask in confirmation, relieved.

She nods and says more firmly, “Okay.”

You smile and scoot over on the couch so you’re beside her as normal, wrapping your arm around her shoulders to pull her towards you. She presses play before setting the remote down and relaxing into your body.

---

After a few episodes you’re almost fully stopped paying attention to the show and it seems Natasha is having the same problem. The show is amazing, you love it, but nothing can ever compare to having the girl of your dreams in your arms so ignoring it completely you lean over and give her a kiss.

She responds eagerly and when you move to pull away for air she doesn’t let you, wrapping her hands around the back of your head to make sure you can’t leave. You smile into the kiss and give in to her demands for more, gently pulling back and leaning your head against hers after a couple of minutes.

“Bedroom?” you ask, knowing both of you are done with the show.

She hesitates for a split second, so quickly that you wonder if you made it up. “Bedroom.” she confirms.

She leads the way and you trail behind, stopping as you remember to turn off the tv and lights before joining her. She seems nervous as she sits down on the bed and you sit down on the bed beside her, trying to calm her but it seems to have the opposite effect which is strange because usually your presence comforts her.

“What’s wrong?” you ask gently.

“Nothing.” she lies. You can tell that there’s something she’s not telling you but you don’t want to push her so you back off.

“Okay, just if you need to talk…”

She smiles a bit. “I know, thank you.”

You lose yourself in her smile a little, staring at her face. She’s really pretty, it makes you lose your proper train of thought.

“I love you.” you tell her.

“You mean the world to me.” she says back. She still hasn’t told you she loves you yet but it’s okay because you can read between the lines and know she is just as serious about you, it’s just hard for her to say those words.

Leaning in to kiss her gently you expect to pull away quickly so you can get ready for bed but she deepens the kiss. You have no complaints so you kiss back harder, one hand on the back of her neck the other weaving through her hair. She makes a small noise of happiness and tries to pull you closer with her hands on your hips. Her hands move as you continue to makeout and the tips of her fingers tease the hemline of your shirt. You gasp at the cold feel of them as she slips them just under the edge but she pretends nothing is happening and swallows your gasp, focusing your attention back to her mouth.

For a second you forget about her hands but you gasp again when you feel them move upwards. It’s not bad per say but it’s the first time Natasha has done this so it’s surprising. You had always assumed she wasn’t interested in the sexual parts of a relationship because she complained about how people are only in it for sex and has never expressed interest in it before.

Reluctantly you pull back slightly, breathing hard. “Tasha.”

She frowns and retracts her hands a little. “What? Am I doing it wrong.”

“No, no,” you reassure, “it’s good. But I just wanted to make sure that this is what you want.”

“You mean sex?” she asks and you nod. “We’re in a relationship so of course we will have sex.”

“We don’t have to just because we’re in a relationship.” you tell her.

She frowns again, confused. “But I thought this is what you want.”

“I only want it if you want it.” you say. It worries you how she talks about sex as if it’s something that has to be done just because you’re in a relationship and you might want it. You want to punch whoever made her think it doesn’t matter what her wants are.

“But you said you wanted to earlier.” she says in explanation, looking away. “I’m sorry, I just thought you did.”

“Tasha,” you reach out an arm to touch her so she turns back to you, “first of all, I have no idea what you’re talking about and second of all you did nothing wrong, you don’t have to apologize.”

“You wanted to sleep together tonight.” she tells you. “You said you wanted me to spend the night and I asked if you wanted to sleep together and you said yes.”

Your eyes widen when you realize how your earlier conversation sounded. “I’m so dumb, I meant it in the literal sense of just sleeping.” you tell her, laughing slightly at your mistake.

“Oh.”

“A good oh or a bad oh?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she says, “Is it because you don’t want me?”

It’s your turn to be unsure. “I never really thought of it much to be honest because I didn’t think that sex is what you wanted.”

“I’m fine with it if you want it.” she says and you look at her sadly.

“No,” you tell her, “you shouldn’t have to be fine with it.”

“I don’t hate it,” she insists, “just because I’d rather not doesn’t mean I won’t sometimes. Our relationship is more important to me than not having sex.”

“And our relationship is more important to me than having sex.” you counter. “All I want is for you to be comfortable.”

“Are you sure?” she asks and there’s a dull pain in your heart because you can’t bear to see her so hesitant. You don’t want to imagine the number of people over the years who hadn’t respected her boundaries or who had demanded things that she went along with even when she didn’t want to.

“I’m very sure Tasha.” you say, looking into her eyes so she knows you’re telling the truth. “We can talk about it more tomorrow but right now I want to sleep with my girlfriend in the literal sense and maybe cuddle if you want that.”

“I like cuddling.” she says and you laugh at the way she says cuddling, like she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“Good because I like it too.” you tell her. “Would you like to go back to your room to get something to wear to bed or are you fine with some of my stuff?”

“Your stuff is fine.” she says so you get up and ruffle through your drawers. For yourself you just grab your usual pyjama pants and a t-shirt and for her you find some sweatpants and a t-shirt from college. Maybe it's a little self indulgent that it’s the one thing you own that has your name on it but sue you if you want her to wear it. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind when you hand it to her so it’s not like it’s a big deal anyways.

You both sort of stand awkwardly looking at each other when you have your pyjamas, unsure of what to do but after a few seconds you turn around to give her privacy and start changing, not knowing if she’s doing the same. When you turn back she’s already changed and you gesture wordlessly to the bathroom that is attached to your bedroom so you can finish getting changed.

Luckily the last time you bought toothbrushes they came in a three pack so you’re able to find an extra one for Natasha and you both brush your teeth in silence before taking turns washing your faces. As you finish you turn off the water but instead of drying your hands you flick them at her playfully so the water lands on her. She scowls with her lips but laughs with her eyes at your antics, making her way out of the bathroom and back to your bed.

“Left or right?” you ask her.

“I don’t care really.”

“Okay then, I’ll take the right.” you say brightly because that is your favourite side.

“I was hoping you would say that, I secretly wanted the left.” she admits, climbing into bed after you.

“It works out perfectly then.” you say, smiling at her. You don’t know if you should make the first move to cuddle or you should wait for her. She did say earlier that she liked that but you don’t want to make it seem like you’re pressuring her.

Luckily for you you don’t have to stress out for too long because she hesitantly moves closer so her side is slightly touching yours so you take that as an invitation to shift and pull her closer so that you’re the big spoon and she’s the little spoon.

“Is this okay?” you ask just to be sure and she nods. It feels nice to hold her and you could get used to this but for now you’re too jittery to fall asleep first. You just want to stay up all night so you don’t lose any time spent cuddling.

She’s cute as she falls asleep. First her breaths deepen a little but then she lets out quiet snores, not enough to bother you but just enough to make you giggle. You didn’t expect the Black Widow to snore but somehow it’s fitting.

---

You feel something shaking you but you feel too sleepy to figure out what it is so you try to roll over only to find yourself trapped by arms.

“Y/n,” you hear Natasha whisper, “are you awake?”

You open your eyes and can faintly see the outline of Natasha’s face in the dark. “I am now, what is it?”

She’s silent for a minute and you take the time to try to focus your eyes more, rubbing at them until you can see properly. She is peering down at you with an expression you can’t place. It looks nervous but happy at the same time.

“Tasha?” you ask, trying to prompt her into speaking.

She takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I love you Tasha.” you say back immediately, knowing that she needs to hear it so she’ll stop gnawing at her lip nervously.

“I love you so much Y/n.” she says. “I’m sorry for waking you up but I was awake and wanted to tell you and would have chickened out if I didn’t do it now.

“Don’t apologize.” you tell her, reaching up to gently trace the side of her face with your hand. “I’m glad you could tell me because I love you so much.”

“I’m glad I could finally tell you, I’ve been wanting to ever since you first said it to me on our rooftop date.” she admits. “And I want to tell the team about us now if you still want to.”

“I don’t think they would appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night just so we can tell them we’re dating.” you joke. “But I definitely want to tell them still.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

You both nod awkwardly at each other for a second before bursting out in laughter. You feel light, like the stupidest thing could make you laugh because you’re in such a good mood. Natasha loves you. You! She could have pretty much anyone but she loves you. You know that it isn’t that much of a step in your relationship and that she already chose you but you didn’t expect how giddy you would feel when you heard her say it.

“Oomph.” You let out a noise and Natasha collapses on top of you before rolling off.

“Sorry.” she giggles, not sounding very sorry at all.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say sarcastically, “now we should get some more sleep.”

You open your arms and she moves back into them like how you were when you first fell asleep. You feel overwhelmed by everything Natasha and you fall asleep to her cute snoring sounds and her hair that smells really good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt happier.

---

<<<previous chapter // next chapter>>>

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow

[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 5--Out of the Ashes.

Okay, though.  I’m already excited about this one because Carol and Lydia are on the little guide picture thingy, lol.  My girls.  

As usual, I’m going to put the rest underneath a cut to save you lovelies potentially being spoiled should you not want to be.  

Wow.  Look at that full moon.  And the colors in the woods.  

I’m telling you.  These cold opening scenes have been generally pretty awesome this season.  

Aaron with Gracie always gives us such sweetness but this time maybe not.  

Omigosh.  Now *that* is a nightmare--the Walkers, the Wolves, the Saviors, the Whisperers, Mays.  Did I miss anybody?  And then Gracie gone just like that?  Poor Aaron.  All he wants is to keep his little girl safe and happy.  

So.  Is Gracie sleeping right next to her daddy because she had a nightmare or because her daddy’s been having them?  Because either way, oh my freaking heart.  Especially at her still sleeping with her stuffed bunny.  I’m really, really hoping that bunny isn’t a bad omen of sorts for our Gracie, because little girls with bunnies haven’t fared all that well--going all the way back to the first episode and as recently as the subway episode where Daryl found that picture of the two siblings after they’d already found the bunny from the picture amongst the bodies.  Please not Gracie.  Aaron has already been through so much.  

Are they all just communing together now?  Because I can see how that would harken back to Season 4.  

Jerry!  Not even 3 minutes in and already two of my faves are present.  I can tell this is going to be a good episode.  

That really sucks.  Not even being able to take a peaceful piss because you can see Walkers shambling past your window, lol.  

There goes my queen running straight at danger as real queens are apt to do.  ;)  

Were there always lights coming on in the windmill during the opening credits or is that a new thing for this episode?  

That orientation video was so surreal.  Had to laugh at the political touch of having “this message is approved by Pamela Milton” at the end.  

Okay.  So they’re getting their work assignments, huh?  Orientations are the worst, lol.  All that damn paperwork.  

Retail clerk--Princess being excited at the prospect of working in a mall, even having a mall again, has me LMAO even as I’m like girl.  No.  You’ll love it ‘til you hate it.  

I didn’t catch Eugene’s job.  But Ezekiel doing animal control kind of cracks me up.  For reasons.  

So.  Essentially Eugene and Princess and Ezekiel got blue collar jobs while Yumiko’s got an invitation to join the upper crust.  

I love Lydia being accepted as part of the community.  About damn time.  

For a second I thought Rosita said what’s left of the horses plural and I was fixin’ to go OH NO.  

This is where I’m at on the Maggie/Negan issue, for better or worse:  Maggie absolutely, IMHO, has earned the right to stay mad at Negan for the rest of her days.  Because Glenn.  Because her little boy was robbed of his daddy.  That said?  I don’t think I have it in me to watch 5 more episodes of this beaten horse antagonistic conversation much less a whole season.  It would be one thing if it hadn’t already stolen valuable and earned screen time from other characters that seem to have been pushed to the periphery to spotlight it like it was the marquee event or something.  I don’t want want 2/3′s of the final season so heavily focused on the conflict between these two when there are so many characters that are already woefully underutilized.  It’s only compelling if it doesn’t become commonplace.  

It’s a sad business having to put down people you know, I’d expect.  Funny, though.  We never knew them so the impact is kind of artificial.  I appreciate the intent of the scene, though.  

Where the hell are all the Walkers coming from?  Like, I thought most of them went skydiving off that cliff without parachutes.  

Judith training the other babies.  If only her parents--every damn one of them--could see her now.  

Gus!  How cool and awesome for him!

ASZ is just full of asshole teens isn’t it?  How dare that little dipshit push our Asskicker down like that and say such hateful things?  To be fair, though, the kid is probably just repeating what he’s heard from others and I’m glad they’re being realistic here even if I don’t like seeing Judith cry.  

Cailey Fleming’s expressive face and eyes!  This kid has my heart, ya’ll.  

That perfectly pretty cake wasted!  LMAO.  Seriously though.  How does a cardiothoracic surgeon end up assigned to work in the bakery?  Yumiko’s reunion with her brother Tomi honestly was on par with what I’d expect from someone seeing the sister they’d long given up as dead.  

Freaky still how the Whisperers choose to herd the dead even without Beta and Alpha.  

Was that the real Stephanie in the scene with the ice cream?  Right under Eugene’s nose while he’s with Fake Stephanie?  They have a connection, ya’ll.  Eugene felt it.  

Okay, though.  I wanted the kids having their first ice cream cones.  If I were Eugene, though, I probably would have inhaled that thing after being deprived for so long.  

The Milton Hotel?  Alrighty then.  Somebody feels self-important.  

Aww.  Eugene’s thinking of Rosita and Coco.  They really have evolved into such a sweet, good friendship and I miss them together.  

Literally, I love Princess more each time I see her and hear her open her hilarious mouth.  LOL at her with the ice cream cone.  

Is everybody in ASZ staying in the same damn house?  Whoever broke the board with Carl’s and Judith’s handprints on it needs an ass kicking.  

“Me, too.”  Welp.  Guess RJ’s already met his line quota per appearance 24 minutes in, LOL.  

Aww.  My heart.  A Rosita/Judith scene.  I’m already loving it but not gonna lie.  Who do we have topay to get a Carol/Judith scene because she’s been there since Judith was an embryo?  

“Now it’s broken.  He’s gone.  Everybody is.”  The way this scene is unexpectedly gutting me right now.  Because Rosita’s right.  It never really gets easier.  It’s just something you figure out how to carry.  How many people devastated by Covid or other illness or tragedy are carrying these same feelings of loss and hurt everyday?  

Give us more of those heartfelt moments, dammit.  This girl at least craves them.  Not the endless Maggie/Negan conflict.  

Ouch.  “I think I haven’t met a Whisperer who wasn’t a liar.”  Damn Aaron.  Lydia’s right there beside you. 

Angry Jerry hurts my heart in ways I cannot explain.  

On a completely shallow note, Miko’s brother is attractive too.  I quite like his accent, lol.  I wonder why he’s so hesitant to put his skills as a surgeon to use.  

“Want some cake?”/”Hell, yes.”  Yumiko=me 99% of the time.  LOL.  Just kidding.  In reality, I have to say no.  

“They clearly got a gym in this joint.  Your chiseling is perfecto.”  LMAO.  I’m all for Princess/Mercer.  She flusters him a little and I’m loving it.  When she told him he had beautiful eyelashes, I howled.  

Oh my sweet Aaron.  I’m in the same kind of pain and disbelief as Lydia watching you interrogate that Whisperer.  

Thank you, Carol.  Melissa McBride?  I effing LOVE you.  My heart hurts.  

I’m sure she’s gonna get hate from the usual crowd while they cheer Aaron further along his dark and desperate path.  Yes.  Ya’ll are *that* predictable.  

But Maggie, though?  How long you gonna wait?  Because you gonna be waiting on Daryl’s ass a long time.  

“Cheesy video guy.” LOL.  Leave it to Princess.  Somehow that Lance dude looks even cheesier in RL.  

By the screaming cave?  What the hell is the screaming cave?  

Ohh.  Next episode actually looks interesting.  Thank goodness it’s not a bottle episode strictly focusing on Virgil/Connie though because no matter how much I like Connie/Lauren?  I don’t think whatever story she’s stuck in with Virgil is enough to keep me riveted to the tv.  

Overall impression of this episode--again, I enjoyed it.  Aaron’s dream was dark AF.  Hell.  Aaron was dark AF in this episode.  Ross Marquand did some really strong work and I’m glad he finally got a moment to shine even though I hate seeing him leaning into the darkness instead of his inherent goodness.  Judith and Rosita’s scenes were touching.  Carol/Melissa made me bawl in the span of two minutes.  That’s why she’s the MVP of this show, lovelies.  She does so very much with so little.  I’m just glad we didn’t have to see Leah and her band of bitchass brothers this episode.  

I’m going to miss this show when it’s gone.  At least I’ll have the Carol and Daryl spinoff off to ease my heartache.  

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 2021 (3) - “I’ve waited for this”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (Actor AU)

Summary: Macen Virius was supposed to be breaking things off with his costar. Instead, he’s pretty sure he might have just caught feelings. Damn it, it was just supposed to be a sex thing...

---

There was nothing like the end of a long day of filming to make Macen want to go to fucking sleep.

Every muscle in his body ached as he left the set to change out of his costume. Moments before, he had been in the blown out remains of a battlefield. Post would add the effects, but his hands still ached from holding his prop rifle and clicking the useless trigger button. Honestly, if he had been human, he would have expected an imprint there.

He was going to have to ask his costar about that later…

“Where is he anyway?” Macen’s mandibles twitched as he glanced around. Everyone was heading off, but there was no sign of Mass Effect’s leading man. Usually, he stuck around to talk to his costar – then again, he didn’t see the other ‘Commander Shepard’ either. They must have both taken off early…

He envied that about humans. They got out of costume and makeup way too quickly.

In the end, he too was back in his regular clothes. As he walked, he rubbed his right mandible, trying to get the feeling back. Part of playing Garrus meant that he needed fake implants to imply he’d had half his face blown off. With how numb that mandible got, it certainly felt that way. No doubt about it, he was looking forward to the final season where all he would need is scar tissue. At least he’d be able to move better in that.

A beeping drew his attention to his wrist as he left the set. His omnitool was letting him know he had a message from a certain fake redhead. As humans put it, curiosity killed the cat (don’t ask him, he didn’t even know what a cat was) so he opened it.

Alex Jones: Hey, rehearsal at my place tonight?

Alex Jones: I can get takeout from that levo-dextro place again. You liked their noodles.

He had liked their noodles. What he didn’t like was… well, this.

“You’re getting too attached, Virius. This is just supposed to be about sex.” He shook his head, half considering calling things off so he could have the night to himself. Problem was that his stomach had started to growl at the thought of those noodles. Besides, tomorrow’s shoot was supposed to involve a lot of emotional moments – he needed all the feedback he could get.

With any luck, he’d end the night in his own bed without fucking the human. After all… he was a turian of self-restraint and control. He could totally handle this.

…

Yeah, he was just going to keep telling himself that and hope for the best. Damn sexy human…

---

An hour later, Macen found himself standing in front of his costar’s door, frowning as he stared at the metal. As hard as he tried to talk himself into ending things, doubt still gnawed at his stomach.

He should end things. It never ended well when he got too into somebody.

“He should understand… it’s just sex… he’s my costar, and it’s just sex.” Macen shook his head again, frowning as he started to key in the human’s door code. Alex had given it to him a month prior, mostly so if he was going to be late he could get in.

That probably wasn’t a good sign, but he had elected to ignore it.

The door clicked opened, and he stepped in. Much to his surprise, the sound of upbeat music met him in the hallway. Not only that, but someone was singing to it if his translator was anything to go by. The damn thing was working overtime as he sidled closer to the entrance to the living room, holding his breath as he peaked in.

Lucky for him, Alex’s back was to him. The human had cleared a space in his living room in order to have room for what he was doing then. However, Macen was having a problem processing what “that” was. Well, he knew it was dancing – a somewhat odd version of it – but it was just so… old fashioned.

Also, since when did Alex dance?

“Let’s chase the dreaming light, and I’ll truly be myself…”

Dancing wasn’t the only thing on the menu. Macen’s jaw dropped as he realized the soft, sweet voice he had heard in the hallway was coming from Alex himself as he worked through the song with flowing, easy moves. Something about it was so painstakingly familiar, yet he couldn’t put his finger on it as he stood mutely in the hallway, watching the scene in front of him.

He had to wonder… what did it look like from the front?

“There’s a scene I want to show you. You have to wait for it… so let’s make a promise!”

Alex moved into a different position, holding out his hand to an imaginary audience that Macen couldn’t see as he took a step up. Every one of his moves were precise, even though he was doing nothing more than dancing around his apartment in his socks. Clearly, he had been practicing…

But for what?

“There’s a gentle wind wrapping around me… isn’t it warm?”

Macen knew a bridge when he heard one, and he felt himself holding his breath as he watched. Alex was getting closer to his imaginary audience now, probably for whatever was going to come in the final chorus. Maybe it was because he was so focused on the man that he hadn’t noticed his heart had begun to beat faster, but it thudded all the same.

“They’re overflowing, these endless hearts…” The man suddenly turned on his heel, facing the entry way. “Please carry them to tomorrow!”

And then no more singing happened as the precursor to the final chorus played behind him. He was fixed on the turian standing in his living room, looking rather shocked as if he hadn’t given him the door code. Macen wasn’t doing much better, mind you – he still hadn’t managed to shut his damn mouth.

And people thought they were cool. If only the blogs could see them now.

At least Alex shut the music off as he regained sense. He reached for a towel to dry off his apparently sweaty face, cheeks a slight pink from exercise. Maybe it was the sweat that had made him shine in that moment. For all Macen knew, it had caught the overhead light when he spun around like that.

Meanwhile, his heart wasn’t slowing down. Still…

“Uh… I guess my text didn’t make it.” At least his mandibles were starting to work. “I didn’t miss the noodles yet, did I?”

The human put his towel down as he started towards his phone propped up on a stand. “They’ll be here in 15 last I checked.”

The music started playing on his phone as he frowned. “Damn, I knew I spun the wrong way…”

This caused Macen to cock his head to the side. “Were you recording yourself for social media or something?”

Doubtful; this kind of thing definitely wasn’t in the human’s wheelhouse. After all, he was supposed to be playing Commander Shepard. While the man had some oddities, he probably didn’t dance around like that.

…

Then again, who fucking knew. Dude was weird.

Alex was still checking his phone as he spoke. “No, just recording my practice to see where I need to improve for filming next week.”

Surprisingly, he was grinning as he looked up. “I’ve waiteda for this for a long time, so I want to get it right.”

Something about the way he smiled did awful things to Macen’s stomach. However, the statement set his mind whirring. While he wasn’t a complete Reaper War freak like some of his coworkers, he at least knew enough to be sure something like that hadn’t happened. After all, there’d be videos, right?

Definitely videos, no way Joker would’ve let that slip by.

“Ok, you’re going to have to fill me in on this one… since when did Shepard do a little dance?”

Alex chuckled – again, there went his stomach. “2185, to be exact. The Normandy ran into a rogue AI that accidentally found its way into Shepard’s music collection. They needed to distract it, so he wound up putting on a little show. He disabled the cameras beforehand, but he wrote about it in his journal, so we know it happened. And now I get to do it on TV and make all the people who think he was just a military guy hate me. I’m thrilled.”

Clearly – he was sparkling again, and this time it wasn’t from the sweat. Macen felt his heart beat harder again, and he tried to distract himself by looking towards the door. If those noodles could save his ass, he’d marry them.

Besides, he was supposed to be calling things off with the guy.

Alex was still looking through his phone as he spoke. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve done a dance routine for TV, I was worried I forgot how. I’m definitely a little rough, but it’s better than I thought it would be. Good thing the director let me know early so I could practice a bit more.”

Macen started to open his mouth to ask, but then the memory came to the surface. He knew where he had heard the voice before, and honestly he was surprised he had forgotten about it. Back then, he had secretly loved to watch it.

Secretly, of course, because Citadel Idol Heart was really more of a girl’s show. The popular teen drama about idols competing in a Citadel-wide talent competition in hopes of seeing their dreams come to life had run for a few years, and he had seen every episode. More importantly, he had once crushed on the main character, a blonde idol with blue eyes and the sweetest voice he had ever heard. Whenever she took the stage, he had been unable to look away.

Just like he couldn’t look away now…

“You… I forgot you were on CIH.”

It was now Alex’s turn to blink back surprise as he looked up from his phone. “You watched that?”

“Kind of…” His eyes darted. “Your voice hasn’t changed much. I mean it’s gotten older sounding but I’m glad to know it wasn’t autotune or anything…”

Things had officially gotten awkward. There he was, with the crush from his teenage years… and he was fucking the guy without even knowing it. Life was weird, and it was getting worse by the second. If only teenage him could see him now…

The man’s cheeks turned a light pink at the compliment. “Well, it’s not like I’ve gone on T or anything, so no big surprise there…”

He got up, probably to check for the noodles. “I take it you were part of the Melody fan club then. Unless you were an edge lord and went with Black Rose. Her fan club was the absolute worst and insisted we hated each other, but I was the best man at her damn wedding last year…”

The rest of his statement was drowned out by the opening of a door and the ruffling of a paper bag. At last, the noodles had arrived. Unfortunately, Macen realized he didn’t have much of an appetite. His stomach refused to calm, and his heart still pounded as he sat there, processing everything.

At least the application of a warm box to his mandibles helped.

“Macen, your noodles are going to get cold.”

He blinked and realized Alex was nudging him in the face with his food. That shot him back to reality as he took the box and proffered plastic fork that went with it. The human then settled in next to him – not across! – and started to dig into his own box.

Right… food. And they were supposed to be rehearsing. And he was definitely supposed to be breaking up with his costar.

“I had the pin.”

His comment left silence in his wake. Alex had stopped eating and was giving him a rather incredulous look. This caused Macen to duck his head in lieu of eating noodles. After all, it was hard to do so politely when you had a face like his. Really, he should have sworn them off… but they were just so damn good he couldn’t resist.

Damn humans and their noodles, they were out to get him.

“You had the fan club pin?”

Yep – there went his mandibles, flapping in the breeze. “I was a big fan, ok? What can I say, everyone loves an underdog story… and you maybe… looked good in that one outfit. The orange one…”

Melody in the orange outfit had been taped to his bedroom wall until he left for basic. Hell, it might still be there…

“God, you’re such a nerd.”

Alex was chuckling though as he put his fork down. It was a nice sound, though it did horrible things to Macen’s stomach once more. Thoughts of noodles evaporated as he sat there, taking in the sound of the human’s mirth. He really needed to laugh more often… maybe he should work on making that happen.

“Well… I can’t exactly let a fan down, now can I?”

He stood and crossed the room to the open space he had created. The music was soon queued up to where he had last stopped, and Alex took position once more. The smile on his face made Macen’s heart want to stop as he sat there, a noodle still hanging from his mandible.

“I can take off into the dreaming sky… because I’m not alone.” Alex winked as he moved, following the song. “Wherever it is, I feel like I can go across the distant sky…”

Then the music swelled as it led into the final chorus. Macen forgot how to breathe in that moment as he watched his costar dance and sing along to the ancient song. All he could think of was how much better he had gotten since the days of CIH…

And how much he wanted to kiss him.

“It’s not enough to put into words, so I’m putting it into a song I’m wishing will reach you.” Another smile as Alex twirled, then began his final pose as the song began to wind down. “Beating my heart~”

The last pose, with his head cocked to the side and hands clasped together, held as the music faded. Then there was silence in the living room as Macen struggled to remember how to function. Right then, there was nothing there but Alex and the table in front of him that kept him in place.

Shit.

“It probably needs some work, but I think I’ve got the basics considering it’s only been a couple hours.” Alex landed back on the couch, picking his food back up. “What do you think, Macen? Got anything you noticed?”

Yeah… his heart was still beating like crazy.

“Macen?”

The turian shook his head – probably launching the noodle in the process. At least it didn’t hit the man next to him, so he could thank his lucky stars for that. However, it was hard to think then as so many feelings and thoughts crashed together.

He was supposed to be calling it off… that was why he came over. This was just supposed to be a sex thing… but every bone in his carapace was telling him to grab the other man and kiss the daylights out of him. They hadn’t even ever kissed outside of sex or prepping for scenes…

What the hell was wrong with him?

“I uh… I don’t know the song, but maybe hold the last pose a bit longer. They might be able to make your eyes light up a bit more.”

Alex nodded at this. “I’ll make a note. Also, don’t you hate cold noodles? Last time you wouldn’t stop complaining when the delivery guy was late…”

Right then, Macen wasn’t sure what he hated or liked as he shoveled the food into his mouth. He just needed something, anything to keep him away from the thoughts currently blooming in his mind.

He knew this path – he hated it. It never ended well. And long ago he had told himself he was never going to walk down it again if he had any sense in his head. This was nothing more than a rehash on an old teenage crush… he could overpower it.

“We need our energy to practice.” He slurped down the last noodle, glad that none were sticking to his face this time. “Tomorrow’s going to be hell if we’re not ready.”

At least his costar nodded as he worked to finish his dinner. “Tell me about it, I have a damn imprint on my trigger finger from that damn gun…”

Well, at least on the bright side that question got answered. It did nothing to quell the bubbling feelings Macen was trying so desperately to beat down, but at least his curiosity was sated for the moment. Maybe that would get him through filming.

One thing was for sure… he was fucked. No way about it – he was just plain fucked. The universe was laughing at him, and he only had himself to blame. All he could do was hope he could hold back and wait for the feelings to pass.

If they didn’t… see the previous statement for clarification. Fuck… he was supposed to be a turian sharpshooter, not a lovesick puppy. He didn’t sign up for this.

#fictober21 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #that mass effect actor au #shakarian #Well shakarian actor AU #but they're also gonna get together lo #I mean they're fucking but they caught ~feelings~

[neeterloveschenford]

RNM 3x03

Hey y’all! Was last night amazing or what! We finally got Malex!!!!!! We got Echo, Delmanes, and Kybel as well. So many good things happened. Let’s dive right in.

Poor Max. Poor Liz. Why did they use each other’s last names. (Weird) And then we segue right into Ortecho sister’s quality time. I love it when they bicker. They are so realistic when they do.

Broody Michael breaks my heart. And Jones is such an asshole the way he’s working Michael and Isobel. Which brings us right into broody Alex. (I love these two goobers.) I’m not sure whether Eduardo is good or bad, but I sure do like him. Also sassy Alex (Men who stare at goats, LOL) gives me life.

I do love Isobel and Maria sassing each other. I am enjoying the mystery of who gets murdered, but I am now convinced it’s not Michael for sure. And I think all the Sanders clues are red herrings. I still think it’s going to be Rosa. I don’t think she’ll actually die, cause they’ll figure it out before then, but she’s my leading contender. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice Max put up a card with Arturo’s name on it. Get that man off your murder board dude. If Arturo dies, we ALL riot!! And this is just what Michael needs. He truly believes he deserves to die, especially now that he knows who his father is.

Love that Isobel is seeing visions now. I’m hoping that next week when she and Maria take their “journey” that it’ll be her dreamwalking. I always loved that power of hers.

Have I mentioned that Kyle is the MVP of this season? I love his reaction to learning that there is another Max. And as much as he dislikes Max, you can see how much he cares about him. He’s just good through and through. I love him. He’s also totally done with Liz. The way he called her out on all of the things she did last season was fantastic! Max and Liz needed to hear everything he had to tell them.

Jones is so sneaky. I just love to hate him! He is working Isobel so hard. But I think it’s going to backfire. She’s going to embrace her empathic nature and read him like a book. I get the sense that Louise was able to sense the evil in him and that was how they knew that he was the enemy. Perhaps there was even a relationship between Jones and Louise. Maybe he’s even Isobel’s father! (Yeah, farfetched, but I determined to see him be somebody’s daddy!)

Ok, I don’t care what anyone else says, I am digging Delmanes! They are cute together. And I am not upset in the least that Alex ships it too. Look, I know I have had my issues with Maria. I think 2x06 is one of the most toxic episodes of tv out there. But I’m not going to blame Maria on something that was clearly all about Carina. I’m willing to chalk that episode up to a weird fever dream and go from there. She’s interesting this year. And one thing that makes that possible for me is her relationship with Greg. He’s honestly everything that Michael tried and failed to be when they were together. And Alex explicitly said in that episode that he could never hate her. They are best friends and everyone that hates either needs to suck it up or find another show to watch. She ain’t going anywhere. And if she can find her happiness with Greg, then so be it.

BERT!!! It’s been so long! I’ve missed him so much. And what is up with this Jordan? What an ass! Doesn’t he know he’s going to go the way of Racist Hank? I like the way everybody doesn’t know what to do with not racist Wyatt. As long as we dont’ get a romance between Wyatt and Rosa, I’m going to see where it goes. Could be interesting.

Back to my boy Kyle and him calling Liz out for all her nonsense. She needs to hear this! The cost of all of her unethical experiments was too much. I hope between this and her talk with Rosa she will begin to understand that she can’t play God with everyone else’s lives.

I LOVED Alex and Greg. Greg laid some truths on Alex that he definitely needs to hear (Are we sensing a theme in this episode?) Greg’s right. Why didn’t Alex join one of the other branches of the military? Why did he choose the one that his father was in? Alex has to rid himself of Jesse’s voice in his head. When he does, then he’ll finally be in the headspace to have a real relationship with Michael. And whether it’s good or bad, I think Deep Sky is going to be the catalyst for that growth.

And of course Michael is spoiling for a fight. And this Jordan creep is going to be the perfect target for him. (Also, protect Bert at all costs!) And did Max not notice the dudes in the alien masks? Didn’t a group of them attack Maria like one day ago?

Which brings us to my new favorite Malex scene. OMG! It was less than two minutes, but it packed such an emotional impact. Alex laid his own truths on Michael that were harsh but so so true. Michael has always held himself to a different standard than anyone else. Could he have been gentler? I don’t think so. I think it was exactly what Michael needed. And then we get the closest to a present day I love you than we’ve ever gotten. If Michael died, Alex would burn the world down. That’s how much he loves him. After everything that has happened between them. Despite the fact that they don’t know if they will ever truly be together. In spite of the fact that they haven’t been together in two years, Alex still loves him enough to destroy anyone who would dare to hurt Michael. We got feral Michael last season. By God I want feral Alex this season. I think we’ve earned it. (Also, MICHAEL GAVE ALEX A PRETTY ROCK! That could be the most unintentionally romantic thing he’s ever done.)

I also loved the fact that that emotional moment led right into the Liz and Max emotional moment. Max is so willing to let himself die just to protect Liz. And I think Liz is finally starting to see the damage she did to their relationship. It was easy to run off to the west coast and blame Max for everything from afar. But now she’s seeing first hand the damage she’s done.

Which led right into the emotional Kybel moment. (The shipping was strong this episode!) I love how she cares about him taking care of himself. And that is exactly what Kyle needs. Someone who sees him for the hero he is and wants to protect and cherish him. If they don’t happen, then I just don’t know what I’m gonna do. (Besides cry hysterically.)

I’m digging the whole mystery of the machines. Alex’s machine turning on and being amped up by the pretty rock that he got from Michael. And it turning on Kyle’s radio from his father. What things have you been hiding all these years Jim Valenti?

Poor Max doesn’t realize how dangerous Jones really is. It’s no wonder Jones is free now. It’s going to be interesting how everyone figures it out.

It amazed me that there was absolutely zero things that I disliked in this episode. All three episodes have been absolutely fantastic so far. I am just loving everything that has happened. I cannot wait for what’s to come. I just know it’s going to be so much goodness.

As always I have some theories that are percolating in my brain. I will be posting about those later. But until then, hope everyone has a wonderful week! I will see you all this time next week!

#roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico s3 #spoilers #it's only my opinion

[blogger360ncislarules]

Warning: The following contains major spoilers for Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. Proceed at your own risk!

Oh, how the tables have turned! Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist wrapped up its second season on Sunday with a heart song — but this time, it was Zoey doing the singing! And on the receiving end of her musical declaration of love was Max, who could suddenly hear Zoey’s heart song!

Prior to that cliffhanger, Zoey and Simon had split up, and then the titular gal got a dream visit from her dad, who encouraged her to take risks and really live life. So Zoey decided to rush to the airport to stop Max from leaving for New York City with Rose. But when she got there, she heard Max sing “When a Man Loves a Woman” and left without saying a word, assuming the tune was about Rose. However, when Max unexpectedly showed up at the park where Zoey was sitting forlornly, it was obvious the ode was about her.

Max explained that he and Rose broke things off because they could both tell his mind was on someone else. Then as Zoey declared that she was all in, she started to break out in a rousing performance of Modern English’s “I Melt With You,” shocking a bewildered Max.

Below, showrunner Austin Winsberg breaks down the big powers twist and what it means for Max and Zoey’s romantic future. (And for the latest intel on Zoey’s Season 3 odds, keep tabs on our 2021 Renewal Scorecard.)

TVLINE | What excited you about this twist with the powers and what it opens up for a potential Season 3? I’m always trying to think of new ways that we can twist and spin and do new things with the powers. We had talked about this pretty early on in Season 1, the idea of Max getting the powers at some point. Certainly, when you think of superhero origin stories, there seems like there’s always a place in the superhero shows where they find somebody else who also has powers. So we liked the idea of being able to do our own version of that.

But the other thing that we had really established a lot in Season 1, especially in Season 2, as well, was this idea that Max feels like there’s an inequality in their relationship, because Zoey has the ability to hear what’s going on in his heart, in his brain, and he doesn’t get to do the same with her. I think in any relationship in life, there needs to be some degree of equality in order for the relationship to work. So just in terms of thinking how could Zoey and Max work long-term, for me, it was important for Max to have an understanding of what it’s like for Zoey to experience heart songs. And I also like the idea that Max could know what’s going on in Zoey’s head as well. And certainly, from a romantic comedy perspective, to be able to play stories where these two people are in a relationship, but they also know exactly what the other person is thinking about, felt like ripe ground for storylines.

TVLINE | To clarify, both Max and Zoey have powers at the end of the finale? Or is it that the powers have transferred from Zoey over to Max? I don’t want to clarify that entirely yet.

TVLINE | Zoey is sometimes a guarded person. So how will this impact her, and how will she feel about Max having all this insight into her? That’s all stuff to explore in Season 3. But I certainly think that it opens up a whole new area of stories to tell, stories about him experiencing heart songs, stories about her having to help him with heart songs, stories about him hearing her heart songs and what that means for their relationship. It just adds new interesting layers of complexity and complication.

TVLINE | Zoey’s heart song was so exuberant, so joyous and free. Were there other songs that were in consideration for that moment, or was it always “I Melt With You”? For some reason, that was the song I kept going back to. Obviously, there are a lot of love songs out there. We might have danced around a few others. But it just always felt right to me. It felt right for Jane [Levy’s] voice. I liked the idea that the first song we ever heard in the pilot was “It’s the End of the World as We Know It,” and this song [goes], “l’ll stop the world and melt with you.” I thought there was some nice bookend world specificity to both of those. I liked that she said, “Making love to you was never second best,” after the whole Zoey/Simon/Max of it all. There was just something about it that felt very right to me, so I stuck to that one pretty quickly.

TVLINE | Speaking of the whole Zoey/Simon/Max of it all, talk to me about Zoey’s choices with regards to Simon and Max in this episode. What went into the thinking behind those decisions? When I mapped out the arc of the season, from the very beginning, I wanted to make sure that Zoey wasn’t indecisive and vacillating between both guys and not making moves in either direction. So I really felt like what was going to frustrate audiences with this idea of Zoey not picking either one. And so we made a conscious choice that I thought was a bold choice for her to choose Max at the end of Episode 1, and for them to at least try to do that and sort of realize pretty quickly that it’s still too early in her grief for her to really be ready for a relationship.

I did feel like because of the dynamic that had been created between Zoey and Simon, and the chemistry between them, I felt like that Zoey really needed to play that out in some way. And we found as we were breaking Episodes 9, 10 and 11, and dealing with the relationship stuff between Zoey and Simon, that there was a fundamental thing that she was keeping from him, which is telling him about the powers. I think that she was afraid to really open up to him that way and afraid of what that might mean, especially since their entire way that they met in the pilot was predicated on a little bit of deception in some way. I think she just didn’t feel like she could be open with him or wanted to be open with him in that way, and then the power kept getting in the way of things between them. It just felt like they were both trying really hard to make it work. So I liked the idea of exploring something where the fantasy of it or the expectation of it is maybe not as rewarding or fulfilling for either of them when they’re actually in it. It was always leading to this place, for me, that Zoey and Simon were going to break up at the end of the season, and then to see how it played out with her and Max.

It was just important to me to not make Simon feel like the victim in it, to not hurt Simon. That’s why I wanted him to be the one to say, “I think we should break up,” and then to also give Simon his own victories in the episode [as the boss of SPRQ Point’s new minority-run acquisition], because we’ve seen Simon at his depths of despair in Season 1, and I didn’t want to end in that way. I wanted to end him in a more positive, forward-facing place and feeling like he’s excited about the future.

TVLINE | Between the breakup with Simon and Zoey, and Zoey’s declaration to Max at the end, is it safe to say the love triangle is officially concluded, and moving forward, it’s about Zoey and Max giving it a real try? Certainly, my intentions going forward are that she and Max are going to try to make it work in a real way. And I don’t have intentions to uproot that or implode that, but it’s also TV storytelling. You have to create complications and challenges in relationships. Otherwise, if there’s no conflict, you don’t have a show. But certainly, my intention moving forward is to approach Zoey and Max dating and being together in a meaningful way, for them to try to work out their differences and their challenges together.

TVLINE | It seemed like a very deliberate and mature choice to have Zoey come to the airport and not stand in the way of Max and Rose. But then it ends up being on Max to make the first move. So how did you come to the conclusion that that’s the way the chain of events needed to go? In the spirit of not wanting to pit women against women or men against men, and what that would actually look like if you approached someone outside of the airport and said, “Pick me over her,” it’s pretty dramatic. I also felt like there was a delightful mislead that she hears him sing “When a Man Loves a Woman,” and she thinks that’s about Rose, and fundamentally, Max’s happiness is what’s more important to Zoey, and she doesn’t want to take that away from him. And so even though the reveal at the end is that he was actually singing that song about Zoey, I think that Zoey and Max have always had the other person’s best interest in mind, as evidenced when he gave up the job for her in the last episode. So I think for her, that was that wakeup call moment, where his happiness was more important to her than maybe her own loss in that moment.

TVLINE | You set up a really wonderful romance for Mo this season. Is there anything you can hint about what we could expect in a Season 3, if that goes forward? Part of the design of the season was to wrap up certain chapters in these characters’ lives or at least put some conclusion on it, but also set the path forward for everybody. And for me, I’m really excited about Mo and Perry. I think David St. Louis has been a great addition to the cast as Perry. I’m really excited to see what it looks like for Mo to be in a real adult relationship, but also to be in a complicated adult relationship with kids and an ex-husband, and the prospect of a character who is kind of an independent, free character getting brought into a domestic life, and maybe getting a little bit more than he bargained for, kind of insta-family. There’s a lot of opportunity for comedy and drama within that.

And I’m really excited for the next chapter for Maggie, too, and this idea of Maggie, potentially, slowly dipping her toes back into the dating world… The idea of Maggie and Deb as partners in crime, and Maggie exploring the idea of how a woman of a certain age, what it actually looks like for her to try to go back into the dating world in a meaningful way, I think there are a lot of stories we can derive from that.

#zoey's extraordinary playlist

[cruzrogue]

Broken

Ch1 (an olicity AU story.)

It’s a cloudy miserable noon with a chance of rain. So far today nothing has gone her way.  Finding herself grabbing another coffee because the first one was full of grinds. The only perk of her job is endless bagels and mediocre coffee.

Her sigh remnants through the small breakroom. Mumbling to herself, “You’d think a multi-billion-dollar company could afford better coffee.”

The only other occupant in the room snorts, “They wouldn’t make so much money if they gave their slaves… I mean employees premium coffee.”

“I Guess.” Placing enough sugar and cream in her cup. She deserves this. Especially being free from a call she finished up where a Queen Consolidated employee who seemed to be locked out of their computer had such a terrible attitude.

She had dreams. Aspirations. They all vanished when her boyfriend was lost somewhere in the Northern China Sea.

“It looks like it is going to rain hard soon.”

“I hate rain.” Her eyes move from the small tv showing a weather update to the overhead windows. The sky is getting darker by the second.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned it was a rainy night when you and your boyfriend got into a fight. He left and never returned.”

Felicity stares at him. She’s never told anyone the full story.

“Yea, something like that.”

Her life has changed dramatically in the last few years. To be clear. It’s been five years since her heart was ripped out from her chest.

“What a deadbeat.” Her coworker keeps going, “Wasn’t he the father of your three kiddos?”

“I better get back to my cube.” Pointing to her work area, “See you around Cooper.” She doesn’t wait for his own goodbye as she hightails it out of there.

Single moms aren’t his thing. It doesn’t stop Cooper from checking out her nice legs. She’s one of those MILFs he’d wouldn’t mind one night with. No strings attached kind of way. Too bad she’s pegged down with three kids.

As the breakroom is now void of anyone viewing the broadcast. Headlines appear. Oliver Queen has been found. After his five-years of being considered dead. He will be coming home. To reunite with his family.

Moira Queen face appears on screen, “It is a miracle with that of my young daughter’s prayers were answered.” She appears to hold back tears of joy. The camera than pans to the man by her side. Under his picture the viewers are reminded about his amnesia. How his bodyguard pulled him out of the turbulent water to a life raft.

Robert Queen has a few words, “My son is alive. After all these years of mourning. There is nothing worse than waking up not remembering anything that transpired. It has been my greatest failure as a father. I get a second chance. My boy is alive.”

The station airs a few more minutes of a recap of the Queen tragedy before the headline repeats its saying, ‘Oliver Queen has been found… Alive!’

As the hard rain begins to pellet against the building.

Felicity’s glancing at a photo of her three munchkins. Oliver was such a hands-on dad. Their first pregnancy was accidental. Their second was totally planned. Their third, well… she was alone for that one. His voyage with his father resulted in his death.

Life has a funny way of working out.

What does it matter that she was a prodigy child? At fourteen she was admitted to M.I.T. Her brain revered. Still is. It’s just… She doesn’t have passion to continue with her once upon a time active goal.

Losing Oliver was a knife to her zeal to conquer the technical world. Without his support she’s withered away in a gloomy existence. Somehow pushing forward due to motherhood. Seeing a piece of him in each of their children.

All it took was an eighteen-year-old boy to break her full academic resolve. She fell in love at first sight. It took awhile to become lovers because of her age. It didn’t stop them from spending each free moment together. Learning, appreciating, falling deeper, and the respect was always there. That when their bodies shared a special dance that carried them forward to wanting a life to be forever bound.

The most bizarre thing in all this. His parents didn’t approve of his affiliation with a minor back during their college years. They kept their relationship a secret. With the quarrel that led to Oliver giving her some space she felt to guilty to approach his family. They just lost their son.

Even though her babies are a joyful creation. If Oliver’s parents didn’t accept her in the past. She doesn’t ever want an eternal battle of custody. Powerful people have ways to win against dreamers like her.

To many people it is unfathomable that she’d keep the lineage of her children hidden. Maybe one day. When her kids are old enough to understand. For now, it is a secret that she carries.      

It takes her stomach to growl to even leave her post. Maybe a bagel will suffice until quitting time. Moving past some coworkers who seem to be gathered around animatedly gossiping. It takes a name to stop her in her tracks.

“What?”

“You haven’t heard?”

She shakes her head no, “Heard what?”

“The boss man’s son has returned.”

“What?” She shakes her head. Why is this conversation not making any sense to her, “Who?”

A name yet to be supplied but a few coworkers point to the breakroom.

“It’s all over the news.”

Felicity doesn’t wait. Hearing Oliver’s name once was enough to have her in a daze. She makes it to the room and any hunger she had seems to be forgotten. Her eyes scanning the headlines. Her world is spun upside down or is it right side up? It doesn’t take long as her head spins all the new information. Her Oliver is alive.

“He’s alive!” She can’t contain how much hearing this is just so overwhelming, “He’s coming home.” Hearing some voices agree that he is coming back to Starling City. She would find it amusing if the voices didn’t drown away as a dizziness overtakes her. Falling. Falling upon the carpeted floor. Not hearing the same voices sounding panicked.

“Felicity?”

Her name again said out loud. To be answered by a moan.

“Ms. Smoak?”

Felicity doesn’t want to open her eyes. It’s a harsh light waiting for her. Squinting she tries to cooperate with the voice.

“Welcome back. You had us all worried.”

“I’m okay.”

“There is an ambulance on the way.”

“No. No need.” Is mumbled out. “I’ll be okay.”

“Ms. Smoak, it is policy to make sure you are alright. I’ll give you some forms and they’ll need to be filled out before you can return to work.”

“Okay.” Is softly spoken. Felicity feels lightheaded. She just hallucinated that her boyfriend is alive. Maybe it purgatory. Even though she doesn’t believe in purgatory. It is the hellish state to want him back so bad. Their last words said of anger. She’s already exhausted every nightmare trying to make things right.

“Alright then. They’re here. Please remain seated I’m just going to handle their arrival.”

The woman leaves Felicity alone in what seems to be an examination room. Afraid to pass out again she remains seated. This has never happened before. Fainting by wanting something so bad. Crying her eyes out. Crying to the point of exhaustion. Now that is something she knows of well.

How will she explain to the medical professional she passed out thinking the love of her life miraculously came back to her. Just out of the blue she’s so overemotional. Thinking about a man for the longest time. Didn’t believe was gone. How cruel is her mind? That when she finally admits he is never coming back. She’d have an episode.  

 Across the city at Starling General. Oliver Queen is being checked out. His family insistent that he have a medical professional make sure he is truly fine. The media is playing that he has been found and is awaiting extradition out of the US Embassy in China. The truth of the matter is he was found days ago. He silently made it back states side early this morning. He has yet to see his parents. Glad to know his father is alright.

He is anxious.

What he wants... no what he needs is to know of his children. Know how Felicity is? Five years is a long time. The fear that has taken so many dreaded nights. Did he lose her? Their last words to each other harsh.

Is their another raising his children? His parents unaware of their grandchildren. His mind going all over the place. On the trip before that horrifying night. Oliver told his dad about his granddaughters. Of how he felt about another little one on the way. He was ecstatic.

At first, he kept his relationship from his parents because they weren’t keen on him courting a minor. They wouldn’t believe him if he were to say they never consummated their love until she was ready. He understood the ramifications society holds. Yet, age between them was just numbers. It’s not like he was a party boy like his high school self.

Meeting the blued eyed prodigy. He was quickly under her spell.

He regrets that he kept his growing family a secret. His love for Felicity should have never been under wraps. The moment they graduated from their prestigious schools. He should have pushed. Should have fallen on one knee and asked her to be his bride. Should have not listened to her newest reasons that she wanted to succeed without his family’s help.

Understanding that his father and a few of the crew made it out alive. He was pushed out on the wreckage further away. That when the storm calmed, he was already halfway to purgatory. His father’s amnesia keeping both sides of his family from connecting.

His thoughts are on his kids. Two he helped name. One he wonders if he has another sweet daughter or a little boy. Are they healthy? Doing well? His little Maple she’d be about seven of age. Ava would be five. His youngest almost four.

His youngest. Every thought that comes about is agonizing.

Felicity didn’t have him to lean on. Which means she either was alone or another somebody took his place. It guts him to even picture his young children calling someone else daddy.

Five years. Five years in turmoil.

He’s back. He’ll find his family. No matter what. He’ll apologize to Felicity over and over until she knows those angry words were of a silly man being hurt.  

Now he waits. Looking out of a hospital window. Waiting for familiar voices to come and claim their lost child. He needs this as much as they will. To be home. To be among those he loves. He missed so much. So much time lost.

He can feel the yearning come tenfold as a familiar voice is heard behind the hospital door of his room.

#Broken #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: Busy Halloween? Anime Shorts Are Easy To Watch And Full Of Horror

  One of my favorite animated horror sequences comes from a forgotten 2010 Gainax series called Hanamaru Kindergarten. The tenth episode’s ending sequence tells the stand-alone story of the show’s protagonist, a kindergartener named Anju, who from the back of a bike sees a mysterious house populated by rabbits and is drawn into a series of horror vignettes. We’re given several quick references in succession that no kindergartener could ever hope to recognize: The Exorcist, The Shining, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and even David Lynch’s Inland Empire. Anju escapes to the other side, the rabbits receding to become a distant memory. But then it’s revealed that the teacher giving her a ride is in fact a vampire! Horror of horrors!

  Storyboarded and directed by Masahiko Murata, who directed this year’s To Your Eternity, this sequence works on several levels. It’s a love letter to cinematic horror, cramming in as many references as the staff could fit into a minute and a half. It realizes those influences in a loose and cartoony style that still captures horror’s expressionist appeal. Finally, it successfully grounds itself in the perspective of Anju, a kindergartener to whom everything happening here might be nothing but a faintly remembered dream later in life. The sequence resembles the nightmare of a child, plunging its heroine into fragmented scenarios from which there is no explanation or escape. Despite having never watched Hanamaru Kindergarten, I find this sequence deeply creepy and nostalgic. After all, serial killers, houses of rabbit people, and other creatures of the night are statistically rare; but who hasn’t been a terrified little kid at one point?

    Another key element of this sequence: it’s short. At just 90 seconds long, this ending sequence packs in more unnerving atmosphere and scares than you’d find in many “horror” anime several times the length. I’d personally even rank it over some full-length horror dramas. So what gives?

  When it comes to horror, a shorter length can actually be an advantage. It’s no coincidence that for centuries, horror literature consisted of short stories rather than novels and films rather than TV shows. It’s just that much easier to build and release tension when you have your audience trapped within a limited space, wholly subject to your whims. In recent decades, authors like Stephen King figured out how to successfully produce long-form horror narratives and rode that innovation toward popular success. But these projects work in part because they combine horror with other elements, like character drama or mystery. Pure horror itself remains tough to sustain over a long period without either wearying the nerves of your audience or breaking their trust completely.

  Image via Eve

  Anime has its own tradition of horror “short stories,” from the long-running series Hell Girl to Kenji Nakamura’s bizarre visual experiment Mononoke. Several of these are quite good — I especially love Mononoke, which looks like almost nothing else ever produced. But you don’t need the full length of a 24-minute anime episode to scare somebody — some of the weirdest and most unsettling Japanese animation out there is less than five minutes long. One of my favorite recent discoveries is Eve, a former Vocaloid producer whose YouTube page is full of music videos featuring talented independent animators beloved by Twitter’s sakuga circuit. The spookiest of them by far is 2020’s How to Eat Life, an orange and black fantasia where a boy is pursued through a city where time is mutable and everybody wants to eat you (and you want to eat everything). Animated by Mariyasu, the film is packed with motifs that appear throughout Eve’s work: giant monsters, doomed cities, and far too many hands and eyes. There’s a new fixation on cannibalism that will turn your stomach and an ending that avoids catharsis for something messier and more fraught.

  Watching How to Eat Life is like coming in at the climax of a long-running anime series with no other context to understand the sensory overload happening on-screen. I can’t help but ask questions about what exactly is happening here: Who is this boy and what is the purpose of his fanged case? What does the city’s giant headless monster want with him? These questions frustrate me, but that’s the point. Like many videos released under the Eve banner, How to Eat Life works because of, rather than in spite of, what it chooses to leave unexplained. Those unresolved associations stick in your craw only to resurface while rewatching the video, while watching other Eve videos, or, worst of all, in your dreams. One of the great advantages of short-form horror is that lack of context, forcing the audience to fill in the blanks themselves. Often what they put in those blanks can be nastier or more personal than anything you’d write in yourself! That’s the fun part.

  Image via Eve

  Another advantage of short-form horror is stylistic: unusual, off-kilter experiences are often more feasible in smaller packages than larger ones. One such example is My Little Goat, a 2018 stop motion short created by Tomoki Misato. It recasts the Brothers Grimm fairy tale “The Wolf and the Seven Young Goats” as a modern tale of surviving abuse and trauma. The goats are adorable, fluffy little creatures, but having been cut out of the belly of a wolf in the opening minute, all of them are burned or even disfigured to varying degrees by the wolf’s stomach acid. The main character, a human boy abducted from his family to replace the goat mother’s missing child, hides under a wool cloak but is feared and distrusted by the other goat children. Despite being adapted from a classic fairy tale, My Little Goat keeps you guessing throughout its eight minutes. Will the goat children descend on our protagonist and tear him to shreds? Will the wolf come knocking on their door? The film ends on a relatively warm and sentimental note, but there are hints that the goat family’s happiness won’t last forever.

  My Little Goat could have been told in another format but I’m glad it was done through stop motion. The tactility of the goat puppets heightens both their cuteness and sense of creepiness. The practical transformations and matter-of-fact magic tricks (like the moment a goat abruptly transforms into a picture frame) add to the film’s fairy tale nature. The start-and-stop movement of stop motion itself is a fantastic tool for generating unease, as it has been employed through the career of master director Jan Svenkmajer. But stop motion is both costly and time-consuming, due to the nature of its production. My Little Goat’s length of eight minutes must be a practical measure as much as it is an artistic one. All things said, the film never wears out its welcome and finds new ways to surprise you up to its final seconds. Tomoki Misato must understand the value of punchy, creative shorts, since he rode that very train to success with this year’s hugely popular comedy series Pui Pui Molcar. 

  Image via Tomoki Misato

  Two connections between My Little Goat, How to Eat Life, and Hanamaru Kindergarten’s ending sequence come to mind. The first is a sense of mystery or ambiguity. That the wolf in My Little Goat is both a man and a beast, or that the lore of Eve’s music video universe is suggested rather than explicit. The second is surprise. There was no reason Masahiko Murata had to turn in a horror masterpiece for an ending credits sequence, but that’s exactly what he did. You might ask: Does a credits sequence really count as a film in its own right? Not a traditional one. But then again, like a well-executed jump scare, good horror can appear just when you least expect it. All you need is a good eye.

  Do you have a favorite horror anthology? What’s that thing standing behind you? Let us know in the comments!

      Adam W is a Features Writer at Crunchyroll. When he isn't recommending that people check out The Valancourt Book of World Horror Stories, he sporadically contributes with a loose coalition of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? You can find him on Twitter at: @wendeego

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a feature, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Adam Wescott

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

[ayankun]

WandaVision episode 6

FIRST OFF

Whenever I go back to pause things for clues, and find exactly what I’m looking for, I don’t feel justified, I feel that much more insane:

It’s really hard to make out, but I had an alright look at it on my folks’ QLED, and it’s definitely a flying saucer doing an alien abduction on what looks to be a person inside an old CRT TV (with some kind of robot head/boombox on top???)  There are secret aliens in this show, you guys, the facts don’t lie.

HmmmMMMM I wonder if Agnes is as innocent as she looks:

Also, I didn’t see that she was wearing the brooch in this ep, and I was majorly disappointed in that.

Two things here:

No, that’s not a twins joke.

Another Moonmen Confirmed

I know green is his color or whatever, but that hat is literally 10 years ahead of its time

Also, I took the playing-DDR-at-home scenario at face value, and only on the first rewatch did I realize it was a very pointed turn-of-the-century reference.  I am an Old.

There’s a good, subtle Rule of Threes in this ep.  The Setup:

The Sokovian Halloween flashback works on so many levels.  It’s so funny:

The fact that they went trick-or-treating at all

The “speaking Sokovian”

The treat being a fish

They have to share the fish

The concept that this event gave them an infectious disease

“You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma” -- it’s a good sitcom joke but.  the trauma is the joke.  The joke IS THE TRAUMA!!!

Elizabeth Olson is a dream with all her wonderful faces she has this ep.

Vision’s unsettling passive-aggression-sitcom-cooperation whiplash is WOW, consider me unsettled!!!!!!  “Be. Good.”  UGH.

(Just noticed one here, but there are a number of continuity errors in this episode, enough to be distracting later on, and is this a deliberate choice?  Please let it be deliberate.  I didn’t watch a whole lot of Malcolm in the Middle, is it known for its continuity errors?

)

“It’s their first Halloween.” LOLOLOL they are TEN YEARS OLD and this is their FIRST halloween I LOVE IT

DOUBLE RED HERRING CONFIRRRRRRRRMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Agent Jimmy Woo accidentally identifying himself as the sassy best friend added 20 years to my life.

Found.  FOUND.  Not “created,” “manifested,” “willed into being using my insane witch powers.”  Third Party Confirmed.

I like that it’s the 90s and we can swear on TV now.  “Hell” “kick-ass” “damn it” “fu---dge”

I think the most biting part of Vision finding the whacked out folks is that the soundtrack just kind of ... ignores that anything’s wrong.  Yeah, it’s kinda-spooky Halloween music, but it’s still 100% in-world kinda-spooky-sitcom-Halloween-episode music. 

OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE AD:

As a 90s child, let me tell you, this is a blisteringly accurate representation of children’s marketing from the period.  The shark is wearing sunglasses AND he has a surfboard!!!  And he’s selling you yogurt of all things!!!!!  This is the supreme distillation of what being a child in the 90s was like.

How disappointed I am that they went with crab instead of lobster.

Heard it through the grapevine that this is a representative of Wanda’s imprisonment on the Raft.  That happened in Civil War, right?  So the next ad is The Snap?  We’re running out of iconic decades, too. so, hold on, new thought.

90s: Civil War

00s: Infinity War

10s?????: Endgame???? or?????????

??: Whatever happened between Endgame and WandaVision, given that the ads are stepping forward through Wanda’s IRL life events!!

I don’t want to know how many episodes are planned/announced, but I don’t know what to expect from the format after they run out of decades from which to draw.  Maybe there are only one or possibly two “sitcom” episodes left.  Maybe after that it just breaks down and they can pick and choose from the worlds/styles we’ve already established.  That’d be p neat.  A very unique kind of chaos.

god she’s so cute

Okay, somebody explain to me Pietro.  I honestly walked away from last week thinking he was just some townsperson chump, but then I was reminded that this is the Quicksilver actor from all those X-Mans movies I never watched, soooo people are saying Multiverse Confirmed?  But, if this is X-Mans’ Pietro, then why did he die the same as MCU Pietro?  Or is he literally MCU!Pietro’s corpse, given that he looked all dead same as when she saw Vision’s corpse?  If MCU!Pietro, then why different face???

????????????????

Also I found him highly suspicious, what with all the questions he was asking.  But the only sort of person who would truly want to know the answers to those questions would be someone who already had them ... so I think he was just asking on behalf of the audience, and the delivery was all wonked out.

Rule of Threes - The Reference:

Ok, real talk, whenever computers/networks/data/encryption/servers/mainframes et al come up in mainstream media, I just look away.  I don’t need the kind of psychic damage that comes with such egregious mishandling of the topic.

That being said, does Hayward having eyes through the barrier mean that he could possibly be involved in getting it set up?  Because look.  If Hayward-after-Hayward’s-Villianous-Ends is one antagonizing force, then is there really room for the Third Party (Confirmed) antagonizing force that’s lurking in the negative space silhouette of the Inciting Incident?  With Wanda as the Red Herring antagonizing force, that’s just.  There’s just too many villains, alright?  We gotta start merging these plotlines.

(then again, when I just said “eyes” I realize probably understanding the true nature of his new secret “CATARACT” project will clear a lot of things up.  I’ll wait for enlightenment)

Agnes’ license plate in this episode is 0A1-B2C, which I think is a reference to the way reality is getting pared down to bare bones at the edge of town.  Note that this is not the same license plate number as seen last ep.

ALSO, I drove home behind a NJ plate just an hour ago, and was staring at it for a long time, trying to fit it into the puzzle before A) realizing that this was Real Life and not part of the show and B) WTF is a NJ plate doing in front of me in California.  In any case, I can confirm that NJ plates do not appear to have this number-letter repeating format.

So let’s talk Agnes.

Demonstrated knowledge of the situation in ways others haven’t (”There’s the star of the show” “kids, you can’t control ‘em”)

Shows up when needed most (explained as being Wanda’s doing, but is it)

When Wanda was having her babies, though, who was trustworthy enough to be summoned?  Was it Agnes?

Wanted to babysit REAL BAD

Was in the opening credits framed possessively with the twins

Doesn’t appear to have an IRL identity according to Jimmy’s crime board

Keeps talking about her husband but we’ve never seen him.  Highly unlikely that he’s real

Was the one to find Sparky “dead” - internet thinks she was lying to Wanda about how or possibly if he was dead (I’m trying not to read the theories, so idk exactly what the angle is there)

In an episode where everyone is wearing their original comic outfits, Agnes is dressed as (and laughs like!) a witch

She name-drops Wanda as the one controlling everyone; Norm (or the guy playing Norm) only said “she” and “her” -- meaning Agnes?

Naughty

So we’re 99% sure Agnes is Agatha Harkness, right?  I never read no comics, so I’m taking the internet’s word for it, but from what I can tell, I think we must be right.  If that’s the case, then I’m thinking it’s not impossible for her to be pulling some strings around here (giving Wanda a justification for her “that wasn’t me” doorbell ring, for example, and pulling a double red herring on the fact that she shows up whenever the narrative Wanda her nefarious scheme calls for it).

To devil’s advocate myself, though, we also have Monica’s word that it was Wanda in her mind, lessening the impact of Agnes falsely confirming what Norm only implied.  Also she’d have to be acting for Vision’s sake (and ours) and, if so, then what did Vision’s brain-touch really do, and how did she know he’d find her there, and what did she intend as the result of that interaction etc etc.

If Wanda’s (or Wanda + Third Party Confirmed (Agnes??)’s) powers aren’t enough to sustain the simulation of life on the edges of town, how much worse is it going to be now that there is even more area to try to control???

I don’t know if this is strictly an intended read, but the idea of Halloween as a fun, scares-for-entertainment’s sake type holiday, the rounding off the edges of concepts like “skeletons and ghosts are what people are after they die, let’s decorate the town with them and have a good time” kind of is a haunting parallel to the nature of Wanda (et al) covering up the horrible truth of the situation with this happy-go-lucky sitcom glamour.

How much does one hate seeing Vision giving his life for the greater good (the greater good) for the second time?  In other news, I think I’m seeing some specifically Mind Stone type energy-colors coming off of him, and very little Wanda type energy-colors.  Third Party Confirmed.

Also, I was thinking from last week that perhaps Hayward’s Villainous Ends included capturing the reanimated Vision to be one of those Sentient Weapons his organization is all about, but I Do Not Think his reaction to seeing that sought-after prize disintegrate in front of his eyes really matches up with that theory.  Again, will be patiently waiting for Jimmy to check his email to see what CATARACT is all about!

Rule of Threes - The Payoff:

Also, anyone ID the movie playing in the background?

Ok, final thought.  I watched this about four times today, and on the big-ass TV at my parents’ house finally paused and got up close to see what that white shape is in the reflection.  Thought it might be a skull, but, it’s worse.

These caps do not contain enough data to verify my claim, but I PROMISE YOU it’s a TV

A square old thing with a round screen and antenna on top. 

I SWEAR to you, when I looked into the TV, into Wanda’s eyes, only to see the reflection of a TV, of her looking at me looking at her I had a visceral fear reaction.  Like.  LEGIT nauseous skin crawl.

(All the other episodes have ended with our POV as the fourth wall, from the general (or exact!!!) position their household TV is known to be.)

This is my favorite show Of All Time.

#WandaVision #1x06 #All-New Halloween Spooktacular!

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Haven DVD commentaries: 5.17 - Enter Sandman

Notes on the commentary for 5.17 with Lucas Bryant (director for the episode) and Shernold Edwards (writer for the episode)

This is a fun one and is by far the highest serious-to-ridiculous ratio from Lucas I have ever heard. Really lovely to hear him talk about how much he loved directing this episode. (As always this is not necessarily direct word-for-word quotes but hopefully captures the nature of the conversation.)

SE: So this was fun. I didn’t think it was going to be fun, but it was. LB: Wow - you were scared? SE: I was nervous! Because you’ve been working with this character for much longer than I have, and you guys are so tight you know your characters so well, you know the show. I was a fan of the show before I started, but you guys are /inside/ the show. LB: Right, interesting. SE: So I was writing it for you and I wanted it to be good. And I wanted it to be emotional but also I felt like it was a bit of a departure. LB: Totally. SE: And I was nervous too that the fans might be upset. LB: Right. Well personally this is one of my favourite episodes ever. SE: Oh me too. LB: Not necessarily because of what I did, but just reading it, it was fan-freaking-tastic. SE: So this [dream!Audrey on the phone] was one of the first shots that came through in the dailies and I looked at that and I was like; Lucas is a director! Look at the window, and the view, and she looks great. And we had looked at wardrobe and decided the short jacket looked great. And then seeing this I was like; That isn’t the short jacket I picked! But then I was like: Ahhh what a good choice! Because it flows! LB: Oh I didn’t know that I was breaking the rules. SE: No, you weren’t. I thought the short one was pretty but you made a better choice. LB: Oh good. I’m glad you think so.

LB: So this scene [Nathan finding Audrey on unconscious on the classroom floor] we actually shot this with the previous episode that was directed by Rick Bota, and thankfully he let me shoot this scene together with the end of the last episode where Audrey finds Grayson unconscious. SE: So how long before you guys did that did you know that you were going to have to shoot this scene? LB: It came up in scheduling, just because I thought it made sense because we were going to be in there already and set up to shoot a similiar scene. And it actually was awful because I was working that day, shooting - I mean working as an actor - and then I knew that this was coming in the afternoon. And it was totally sort of frazzled, and I was back and forth between planning the shot and being in the shot. And it was totally uncomfortable and awkward and weird. And I remember thinking, I do not want to have that experience for the rest of this thing, so it was great to get that out of the way. Because that happened, it happened for like an hour and then it was done and I got a couple days to think about what had happened and what I could do better and everything. So it was this sort of perfect trial by fire. But then at the same time I had Rick there to watch when I was on screen. Because that was the worst, I think, trying to do …. SE: Yeah like in the thing and watch the thing LB: Yeah. SE: So I’m sad because I love Kris Lemche [who plays Seth]. LB: So do I. SE: He’s so awesome. I think he just got cast in a CW pilot playing a role that’s very similar to this. So I’m just going to go on record and say that Kris Lemche should be thanking Nick Parker who originated this character. But I’m sad because I wrote this whole thing about his lustrous hair that ended up getting cut out. And I just thought somebody should pay homage to the lustrous hair. I tried but, the scene ran long. LB: I know, it was so good. It was funny and it was great, but that was part of the sad reality I realised of doing this - because it ended up running long, then any piece of anything that could possibly get taken out, got killed. SE: Yeah, I know. And it’s usually the fun stuff. LB: Yeah. SE: But a lot of the fun stuff did stay in this and I’m so glad. And I’m so glad you directed this one. But I wanted to ask you, because it feels like you didn’t have a lot of lead up time, between knowing that you had to shoot that scene that you were in and actually doing it. LB: Right, it didn’t. SE: So was that weird? Did you have to block yourself? LB: Yes. So we, Rick and I were shooting in that location the week previously, so thankfully I had a bunch of time between scenes to walk around, so any time I wasn’t shooting I go and nervously write things down. So I talked about it with Rick, and he told me what he was thinking, and I decided that those lines - those visual lines - could work for where our characters were going to be. SE: Oh yeah of course becuase that was a direct follow on from the previous episode LB: Yeah because Audey comes in the room, so I was like; Well Nathan can just come in the same way so we don’t have to light that again, we just do the same thing. SE: So going in to this I was aware that you were going to be directing and that we’d want to lighten you up as an actor LB: Yes! Thank you! SE: But I was also sad about it too because scenes like this one between you and Charlotte, we don’t get to do that a lot. We’ve got all this mythology stuff that needs to come in and case of the week stuff LB: Right. SE: And the fans, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, kind of like your face. And when your face is not on screen I kind of feel like they blame me. *Some joking around about who is actually in charge of the show and who’s fault it therefore actually is* SE: When this thing airs, I’m taking my name out of the phone book LB: Everyone - Shernold did all of us a favour by keeping my face out of this a little bit, so dial back the hate mail. SE: Goodness, and then also upset at Audrey even thinking about marrying anybody else. I’m going to keep my dog inside, and close all my windows, and hunker down. LB: It’s a TV show, people! Everyone knows the love story, the true love story, OK? It’s just … give Shernold a break? SE: Yeah let’s give Shernold a break. OK this guy [playing Sandman/Henry] was awesome. LB: Amazing. This whole experience was the coolest thing in the world for me. I absolutely loved it. And I got incredibly lucky in so many ways, it felt like it was divine at every turn. The actors, the guest actors; Rossif [Sutherland who plays Sandman] is a fantastic actor and was totally game for everything, I think he was incredible. Tim Beresford who plays Grayson I thought was fantastic. SE: Yeah he was really good. He’s a friend of yours, right? LB: Yeah, he is. And Emily and Laura and everyone who had to go into this illusion just went in, really went for it. SE: Yeah they all totally went for it. And - our show is always very emotional, and serious things go on too so there has to be a level of seriousness to it. But I feel like because we got to do dreams, that we got to go in a different direction. LB: Totally. SE: And I don’t think I’ve ever seen Emily, or the Audrey character, as relaxed, or as buoyant, or affectionate - I mean there’s obviously a lot of affection between Audrey and Nathan - but as affectionate or unencumbered, as unencumbered-ly in love with someone. But I think a lot of that came from you. LB: Hmmm. Well. I think it came from you, from what you wrote. Because Audrey Parker is always encumbered by the weight of the world. She has all these things to deal with; her identity, her lack of identity, what is going on, saving the world. So for her to get to play a woman who doesn’t have a care in the world, this is the most perfect life possible. I think that she just embraced that. And it wasn’t a vapid character, because that was a concern. But it was really amazing. When we first see them together in that world, it made me - this whole experience made me love actors so much more as well. Because so often when I’m acting, you feel sort of powerless, you feel like this meatpuppet in many ways, you’re being told what to do. And a lot of times you feel this frustration of not being able to really have this voice that you think you should have. Now, getting to watch actors, as the director, I was like; That is so freaking not true. And I am going to try to never feel like that again. Because from the moment that I said ‘Action’ until ‘Cut’ we were completely in an actor’s world. Like there would be scenes where I’d be thinking; I don’t even know how I’m going to do this or what I’m going to tell them. And they would just come in and bring it to life. And it was joyous to watch. To the point that there’s all the stupid pictures of me with my mouth so wide open leaning in at the monitors like a freaking idiot. SE: I think you should post those because I think people will want to see those. LB: *laughs* But I was really just so joyously appreciating getting to watch these performances. Because when you’re in it, it doesn’t feel good, it feels yucky. I mean these guys are fighting about the loves of their lives or potential deaths and imminent doom … SE: This guy [Sandman] is scary as shit LB: … so it was such a nice experience for me. SE: I have to say, this was one of the times where I regret not going up to set this season. Going up to set is not easy, because everyone works really hard, we have long hours, and we’re away from a lot of the amenities of the city, it’s not easy. What makes it good is the great people, the Haven crew (and the delicious food we get to eat.) The bugs, I’m not into. The ticks, I’m not into. LB: Yep. They’re lame. SE: The heat and the cold simultaneously, I’m not into. So, I wasn’t heart-broken when we were told that writers wouldn’t be going up to set for season five. Except for this episode. I wanted to be there for this.

LB: So this week, those first couple days, thankfully you kept me mostly out of this and the way it worked out schedule-wise was that other than that first bit that we shot a couple days earlier with Rick, I got to just direct for the first four days. SE: Oh that’s awesome. LB: So it was three days at the mansion, in the fantasy world, and then one day at the school where it was all Dwight and Sandman stuff. So for the first four days I didn’t have to put on any make up or get out of my own clothes. So I just got to focus on these guys. So this, look how gorgeous this is [as Audrey and Henry greet Grayson in the dream world]. And a couple days before this, it was freezing. And a couple days after, it was freezing. And when Emily first came out in the dress later on, it was so stunning. And we were outside and she had this wrap on, and we were thinking it would be nice if she took the wrap off, but it’s so cold out here. So I’m like; Great, I’m now the guy that gets to go and talk to her and ask if she’ll take the wrap off. And I’d been out there days before and it was freezing. Initially we wanted to put her on the dock, but I was just like; That’s going to be awful. So she said she’d try it. And it was like as she removed the wrap, the sun came through the clouds and I swear it was like 12 degrees warmer, the wind died, and we got this amazing shot - you’ll see it later - where the sun’s directly behind her, and it just seemed like we had done the best planning you could ever do. But we just got totally lucky.

SE: This was one of my favourite scenes [where Duke first gets Seth to remember Haven]. Kris is so funny. And I loved those words when they were on the page, but the little pauses that he puts in, in the delivery. LB: Yeah, he is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. SE: And so nice. It sounds really cliche, but this dude is really nice. LB: Super sweetheart. Fantastic actor. Hilarious, lovely person. And the two of them together [Kris Lemche and Eric Balfour], it was like, again, I just watched. And laughed, and enjoyed. And I was like; I don’t have anything to tell you guys, other than; you’re awesome. And one of these scenes with them - or maybe they got cut in half, but one of them was like four and a half pages or something. It was a pretty long scene of the two of them going back and forth. So I was like; Do you guys want to rehearse one? But they were like; Let’s just shoot it. And I swear to god, the first take, boom, they had everything down. I was like; Thank god.  And that’s when you really see the difference between what makes a pro actor. Because you don’t have time for someone to be; Sorry, what was that? And that’s me, all the time, forgetting my lines. Thankfully Nathan doesn’t say much. SE: Which is not my fault either. Nathan is a man of few words. LB: I actually usually ask for less. Like; Can I not say that? SE: You do! Can I do that with a look? Can I just frown at that? Can I convey all that with just a frown? And then you do. LB: Right. Let’s just let Audrey talk, and I’ll observe her. But yeah when you have those huge scenes which Kris and Balfour did that day with those big scenes just the two of them, they just killed it. I had to do nothing.

[As Charlotte is talking to Sandman] SE: This scene was fun. We don’t usually get much sexy on this show. And I like how you’ve got Dwight there [through the window behind], looking in at his lady. LB: Yeah this was a little sexy. And she totally went for it. SE: She did. And that squeal that’s coming up? I didn’t think I was going to be allowed to do it. LB: I know, I remember we were sitting in this office, having that conversation. I think you wrote it in the script as ‘sorrority girl squeal’. And I was like ummmm, is that for real? But then I got on board, and we were like; Let’s do it and see. And she did it and SE: And she did it, but I thought for sure it was going to get cut out. I thought it just wouldn’t make it - at every turn. I thought the network would cut it out, I thought the studio would cut it out. LB: I think there were a couple voices that were wondering about it but I think the amazing thing about this episode was you could say, well, it’s an illusion. It’s not real. That was just a really good go, if someone was wondering; I don’t know if in Haven, we should …? It’s like; You have to remember this is an illusion. SE: Yeah, this is not Haven. [Charlotte doing her sorority squeal] SE: Oh Laura Mennell, you make me so happy. And then Emily’s face lights up as well. It’s just nice to see that character, even though she’s completely in a place where she shouldn’t be - if she had any power over herself she wouldn’t even touch another man except for Nathan - but to see her just being so free, and happy.

[Charlotte helping Henry with his cufflinks] LB: I thought he was hilarious in this scene. And when he tries to snap her back .. when he … SE: You’re still directing! Oh my gosh, you guys couldn’t see but Lucas was looking at Laura Mennell’s close-up, going; Oh there’s a thing there … LB: When he’s calling her back to the illusion here I love this. So again, we had zero time for these scenes because this was six days, this episode. SE: Oh yeah, you had to do this in six days! LB: So Eric Cayla, who is amazing and held my hand through all of this and was incredibly supportive and insightful. SE: He’s the most manly gentle man, and he’s a gentleman, but I mean he is gentle, and yet so macho at the same time. LB: He is, absolutely. SE: Like standing on set eating a wheel of expensive delicious cheese with a knife. LB: Yeah, that he takes out of it’s own holder. But so, I wanted to do something visually special for the illusion that differentiated it from the world of Haven, so part of it was in the colour. But we were also talking about frames; like frames within frames within frames. So you’ll see a lot of square symmetrical shots, or like this [Grayson coming to see Audrey in her wedding dress] through doorways SE: That was kind of menacing [Grayson’s hand on the door handle], I didn’t intend that. LB: Because you don’t know who’s hand that is SE: Yeah. Nice work! And look at that [wedding] dress. That was the first choice, right? That was the first dress any of us saw. LB: Yes, and I was like: Oh god, they’re going to go try on wedding dresses, this is going to be the biggest shit show, the decision of which dress to wear. SE: Yeah I thought it was going to be a hideous conversation. LB: And so I thought I would defer to the ladies and just shut up. So they sent out five pictures, and I think every single one of us picked the same one. There wasn’t even a question. SE: I think it’s one of the only unanimous decisions on the show. LB: Ever.

SE: So I had suspected it watching the dailies, but then also I was talking to some of our production managers up there and, the entire crew came together for you. LB: Yes they did. SE: In a way that was just special. LB: It was so special. SE: Everyone wanted you to do well, everyone was trying their best. And it worked. And I know you brought 80% of it, but I think if you weren’t the kind of person that you are, and the kind of professional that you are then people would have been just like; … yeah good luck LB: Well yeah totally. They could have completely sunk me. And I can’t say it enough, I spent basically two weeks on the verge of tears, just from pure joy. It was so incredible. And every single step from you guys here in LA, the production team in Nova Scotia and all of the crew - every single person totally supported me. Told me that they were going to support me. Made me feel supported. It was incredible. And then to see what a group of 150 people working together can do in 10 minutes? It’s amazing. SE: Yeah I mean I tried to write to the six day schedule, but I was not convinced. I was not sure it was going to be possible to get all that done in six days. LB: I think that’s just the way TV is going now that people are just squeezing more … Oh this is a nice shot of the two of them [Henry and Grayson] silhouetted in the doorway. It was all so beautiful and I was so freaking lucky. It was overwhelming, the love and support. SE; That was great! [Grayson’s body disappearing from the dream world] That was terrific!! LB: Oh good. SE: I hadn’t seen that but that is exactly how I had written it. Thank you! LB: Oh no, thank you. Although we should thank the post production people. SE: That was great that was the first time I’ve seen that. LB: Oh good.

LB: So a lot of trying to get through those days of blocking and scheduling stuff in the dream sequence in particular was we were trying to find lighting set ups, or share locations. And I’ve got to give it up to these guys [Adam as Dwight and Rossif as Sandman in the principal’s office] because I think this was the fourth day of shooting and it was all these two, all day. SE: Did you do it chronologically. LB: Yeah they went chronologically and they went from the first scene to the last scene non stop SE: No way. LB: Yep, so we would sit on Adam and he would do …what is it, 12 pages? SE: The whole thing? What! LB: Yeah. A 22 minute take. So to the camera guys; Thank you, and, I’m sorry. Because they were like; If I didn’t like you, you would be fucking dead right now man. Because it was hand held. So they’re holding the camera and shaking. They did an incredible job and it was just about letting these two guys go for it, and they wanted to. It was totally awesome to see, It was like theatre, we would watch it for 20 minutes.And again, totally pro. And Adam who only started being a TV actor a couple years ago, came and did this super professional badass shit. I was so blown away by him. I think he is excellent in this episode, I loved directing him, and he yeah, would go from start to finish, 20 minute take, killing it every time. Amazing. SE: That’s incredible. I had a lot of fun writing those two. One of my favourite things to write, for some reason, is a grumpy white guy. And that was a lot of fun, these two guys threatening each other. And for this two [Charlotte telling dream!Audrey about the Troubles]. I’m always interested in our Troubled people, but can’t always spend that much time with the Troubled people because they’re not the stars and they’re not what people want to see. But because of the way this was structured, and because you were directing and didn’t want to be on screen all that much, then I got to spend a lot of time with Dwight and our Sandman. LB: Totally. And I loved how he got a really character-y episode.

SE: Look at that hair. LB: He’s got good hair. SE: Beautiful LB: Are we talking about Balfour’s hair? Or Lemche’s hair? SE: I take the fifth on Balfour’s hair but he’s a handsome man. LB: I like that hair. And Lemche does ...- I missed the mustache though.

SE: Hey, did our crew make that? LB: Yes, that is fake. We are standing in front of the studio, we were in the parking lot of the studio for this whole day. So yes that entrance there used to be a … SE: And the gas thing and whatever? LB: Yes, that is a fake gas thing, no gas comes from it.

LB: I love this; it’s a very loud van [Seth driving away from Duke claiming the engine’s too loud to hear him] I apologise for letting them, but I let them ad lib whatever and whenever they wanted. SE: That’s fine. They were funny.

SE: Oh and this is the shot when the sun came out? [Emily sat on the bench in the wedding dress] LB: This is when the sun came out. And I wish, ideally my hope for that sequence was as a much longer shot that started further back and would go super slowly up towards her. But the constraints of the fact that we can’t just let it be an hour and ten minute episode meant that had to get trimmed. But yeah it was just so stunning. SE: I’m not a big wedding person, but I was wildly invested in that tiara. LB: I remember SE: I was a bit of a beast about the tiara LB: You were totally serious. You were like; I am talking freaking Cinderalla, with the white gloves, the tiara, the whole thing. SE: I wanted something with height. And to Joanne I have to say, you do a beautiful job, and I know you resisted, and I will say - you were right. We did not need a tiara that was a foot high.

SE: Oh I hadn’t seen this [montage flashback of Naudrey moments]. This is cute! The feels! Oh you guys can’t be mad at me, look at all this Nathan/Audrey stuff. Stop tweeting me! LB: I don’t think people will be mad. This is one of the coolest Nathan and Audrey … SE: Wow! That [montage] was longer than I thought too. LB: And that was one of those things that was conceived in editing, really. Because we had talked about the possibility of some flashback moments here. And Shawn Pillar was instrumental in creating that.

[Seth driving along rocking out to the radio] SE: Look how cute he is! LB: It’s hilarious. SE: It is really funny. And look we’ve got foliage finally. LB: Yeah, the colours [on the trees[ SE: We got to shoot in fall! LB: I saw a bit of the next couple episodes when it’s full on fall. I just did ADR SE: Oh is that the one where they’re outside LB: Yeah and the yellow house.Stunning. The fall was beautiful. I mean, it wasn’t that fun shooting, but I knew at some point it was going to look totally gorgeous. SE: I’m looking forward to seeing that one. I haven’t seen much at all from 5B because we were writing like demons and everything so it’s going to be all new to me.

[Audrey and Henry talking on the bench and he puts his hands to her throat] SE: Woah. When you did that, I was like; Whaaat?! That’s powerful. Because I thought, is he going to strangle her? And how can she be so calm. LB: Well he started doing that, because he started touching her and holding her face. And there was something sinister about it, so I was like, yeah, let’s go there. SE: Yeah and I mean normally - I don’t know I didn’t even intend this - but what I’m thinking is that because we’re still partially in the dream world. Because I think normally in that situation Audrey would be like; What? Get your hands off me! Punching him in the face LB: Absolutely SE: But this is a little different, this is still so intimate. I mean she’s not feeling it, obviously, because it’s all Nathan for her. LB: But she’s still not completely out. She’s still not Audrey Parker yet. SE: It’s really powerful. LB: Yeah it was an interesting line to try and figure out. Because yeah, when she remembers is she herself again? But she’s still in this world, he hasn’t fully released her.

[As the dream world starts to fracture around them] SE: That’s really cool. That’s what I pictured when I said it turns into a bit of a nightmare for him. That’s really good. LB: Good. SE: And I didn’t really expect this from the actor either. Because I think I put something lame in there like; ‘He screams in frustration’ or something. Which I know no actor wants to do but I had to put something in there for people who read scripts and don’t necessarily know what it’s going to look like when it’s done. LB: Totally. And that was just him in front of a green screen by himself. And he just went for it. And Emily wasn’t even there. He was just standing there doing those final moments on his own and I just let it go, and let him do it over and over. He did like 20 different takes, but so beautifully vulnerable and angry and lovely and lost. And that’s what I thought was really wonderful about his performance that you ended up carrying about him. And this song [that’s playing as Audrey and Charlotte wake up] Adam turned me on to it a long time ago and told me; Whenever I hear this I always think of Audrey and Nathan. SE: Ah that’s so sweet LB: So when it came to my episode I listened to it again and thought we’d throw it here in the end. SE: That’s a lovely image [Henry on a bench in the empty dream world]. I wasn’t quite sure what that was going to be like with him alone. I never really settled on what I thought that should look like and I think you made a good choice. It’s nice to see these two [Audrey and Charlotte]. What’s fun for me is that we didn’t have a lot of just Audrey and Charlotte stuff, even though we knew that they were mother and daughter. So I tried to use the dream sequence to bring them closer. LB: Yeah, I think that really worked.

SE: This was fun LB: It was! SE: You did a good job man. LB: Thank you.

#haven syfy #haven dvd commentaries #5.17 - Enter Sandman #haven maine #lucas bryant #shernold edwards

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Julie and the Phantoms Theory

Wow so I just binged watched julie and the phantoms on netflix and this show is amazing, like really really fantastic. It is aimed at a younger audience than most of the series I watch but it really doesn’t matter, I do think this is a show that any age group can enjoy. The music in it is so so good and I’ve been listening to the songs on replay non stop. Also have two new ships I am obsessed with Juke and Willex. If you haven’t seen the show it is defo one I would recommend. However despite watching the whole season I have soo many questions that need answering and well anyone who has read any of my posts ever know how much I love to over analyse and obsess/ theorise about tv shows. The rest I am going to put under the tag because of spoilers so if you want to hear some thoeries/ analysis then read on, but I should warn you I am going to be talking about the sensitive topics of death and bereavement so only do so if you feel comfortable. 

 So one of the biggest questions I have is regarding the deaths of Alex, Luke and Reggie. Now I know that they die from eating bad street hotdogs and I know alot of the reason why they die that way is for the comedy aspect of it. I mean one of the many things this show did really well was balancing the comedy aspects with the emotional aspects. I appreciate that as the audience we are suppose to just accept this somewhat wacky death and go with it but well thats just not me and I kept wondering what exactly was wrong with the hotdogs that it actually killed them. Some things about it just don’t add up and I hate not knowing the answers so here are some theories I have, some more outlandish than others. 

Theory 1- Food Posioning (Honestly this isn’t really a theory but lets just go with it)

My first thought when I first watched it is the most obvious one which is they got food poisoning. I mean the place they got the hotdogs from didn’t look the most sanitary. However here’s the part that doesn’t add up for me and that is how quickly they died. We know from Alex’s comment to Willy in episode 8 that they were two hours away from going on stage the night they died. This means they had to have started showing symptoms within those two hours before the show which lead to the ambulance being called. In the first episode Reggie says that after they floated out of the ambulance they went to a dark room. The part that caught my attention here is the line about the ambulance as this tells us that they died in the ambulance before they ever got to the hospital. Now I don’t know how far away the hotdog place was from The Orpheum but I’m assuming it was fairly close considering how important the show was to them, I personally wouldn’t go too far from the venue if I had a big show in just a couple of hours.  According to my google search the nearest hospital to The Orpheum is Diginity Health California Hospital Medical Center. This hospital is only 5 mins away from The Orpheum, obviously I know this time would be effected by traffic amongst other factors but the point is the time between ingesting the hotdogs and them dying was relatively short. Which makes it unlikely that they died from food posioning. Whilst food poisoning can kill its very rare and usually takes a lot longer than a few hours I mean ordinarily it takes days. So the likelihood that all three of them would have been killed by food posioning that quickly is actually slim to none.

Theory 2- It was Premeditated.  

My next theory is much much darker and definitely more out there. It also depends on how dark they plan to go with Bobby/Trevor’s character. But we know that Bobby stays behind and doesn’t go for hotdog’s claiming to be a vegetarian (which was a lie), he also seems to be pretty eager for the other three to go. Now in the scene it seems like the reason for this is so he can be alone to filrt with Rose but what if Bobby had more sinister plans what if he had some hand in the boys’ deaths and had actually posioned them or arranged for them to be poisoned. Maybe he always planned to steal Luke’s songs and take all the credit, fame and money for himself. When Julie looks up Sunset Curve on her phone you can get a glimpse at the article she reads. In the article it says ‘There was a surviving band member, Bobby, but no one has been able to track him down...’ This article seems to have been written about a week after the night they died which shows that Bobby went under the radar pretty quickly after his bandmates died. Now again this could be explained away as Bobby grieving and wanting to stay out of the spotlight as he worked through that and that him stealing the songs was a more opportunistic act than him premeditating his bandmates murders. 

Another possible variant of this theory is that it was still an orchestrated death but it wasn’t Bobby who wanted the boys dead but Caleb. During that opening scene they were still alive and we know normally lifers can’t see ghosts so for all we know Caleb could have seen them perform and had decided then that he wanted them as his house band, he didn’t want to wait for them to die so he took matters into his own hands. We assume that the first time Caleb hears about the band is from Willie but there was that scene from the first episode where he bumps into Alex and to me it almost seems like he recognises the group. Also I don’t think its a coincidence that he bumps into them right outside The Orpheum. It could be that he knew they would show up as ghosts at some point and figured they would go back to The Orpheum when they did and so would sometimes patrol that area just waiting for them. It could also explain why he’s willing to let Willie skate around the streets of LA maybe he was hoping Willie would do exactly would he did and bump into one of the boys whether Willie was aware of this plan is a whole other kettle of fish I feel like most likely he wouldn’t have because I feel like he would have told them Caleb had sent him to find them when he told them about the jolts. Point is the whole thing could have been one big elaborate plan of Caleb’s to get the band for himself, his obsession with the band could have been bigger than what we were shown in the first season. 

The last variant of this theory could be a mixture of the previous two. Maybe it was an elaborate plan made by Caleb but with the help of Bobby. Maybe Bobby made a deal with the devil so to speak and in exchange for fortune and fame he gave up his bandmates. Maybe he even gave up his own soul too but he gets to live out his dream life first. We know through Willy that Caleb has made deals with lifers that are part of the Hollywood Ghost Club so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to think he could’ve made a deal with Bobby. 

To be honest I’m not completely sold on this theory purely because the show is aimed at a younger audience and although it does cover some mature themes around death and bereavement I think murder might be a little too dark for its target audience. But then on the other hand they did have that storyline of Caleb trying to destroy the boys with those jolts so maybe I’m wrong.

Theory 3- The Car Battery. 

Ok so this theory I think is the most likely out of them all. When you think about what we know about the boys death and the timeline its that 1) They ate hot dogs that tasted bad. 2) They obviously started to show worrying symptoms that lead to somebody calling an ambulance, these symptoms showed up in under two hours. 3) They died in the ambulance before getting to the hospital (which was approx 5 mins away). Also from the sound of it they all died around the same time, as in all of them were in the ambulance it wasn’t a case of one of them died at the scene, another in the ambulance and another in the hospital. Meaning the effect time was pretty consistent, we know that they all took the first bite at the same time. So keeping all that in mind lets look at the scene again. The first thing I want to point out is that when the boys get the hot dogs they don’t show us them actually being handed the hotdogs, when we see them they already have the hotdogs and they are at the condiments adding their pickles and sauces. This in my opinion tells us that the hazard did not occur during the cooking process but at this moment when they were getting the condiments. Also we see Alex talking about how he couldn’t wait to eat someplace where the condiments weren’t in the back of a car. This scene opens by showing us said condiments and also whilst Alex is talking focusing in on the car battery. Right after his comment about the condiments Alex goes up to the seller and apologises for getting pickle juice on his battery cables once again this draws attention to the battery and its close proximity to the food. The seller just laughs it off stating that maybe it will help with the rust. This seems like a throw away comment but it could actually be a big clue into what happened to the boys. This tells us that not only is the battery near the food but its rusting and in a bad condition and if its in a poor condition it could be leaking. Ok so why is this important to how the boys died? Well because car batteries have sulfuric acid in them. I said before that the whole food poisoning thing didn’t add up for me because generally speaking when things go wrong during the cooking process such as something being undercooked or unclean, it doesn’t tend to kill you and in the rare circumstances if it does it usually takes days to weeks; but the chances of surviving food posioning are very high. However if someone were to ingest sulfuric acid even a couple of drops could be fatal. For examble if there was any sulfuric acid in the bottom of the trunk it could have gotton onto the utensils they used or onto the bottom of the sauce bottles which could then have tranferred over to the food. 

Also sulfuric acid usually kills a person within a few hours and can start having an effect on the body pretty much immediately. The mortality rate of sulfuric acid poisoning is very high the survival rate is only around 35% which would make it much more likely that not only did they all die but that the all died around the same time after exposure. The reason why it can kill so quickly is because it can effect the airways. Also the comment the seller made about the rust could have another possible explanation because whilst a leaking battery could have contaminated the food, sulfuric acid can also be found in some anti rust treatments. So if the seller was trying to treat the rust on the battery without removing the condiments from the trunk then that too could have created an opportunity for the food to become contaminated with sulfuric acid. 

So yeah this is my best guess at how the boys died, they accidently ingested sulfuric acid that had contaminated the condiments that had been stored next to a rusted car battery. It’s tragic and more tragic than that is that although it can only take a few drops obviously the less posion a person ingests the more chance they have at surviving. We know that even though the first bite tasted weird they continued to eat the hotdogs but if they had stopped after that first bite they might have actually survived. Obviously I’m not an expert on any of this so I could be totally wrong but to me this is what makes the most sense. 

Anyway what theories do you guys have? Also what questions are you hoping to get answered if we get a season 2 (we better get a season 2 or I’m gonna be real mad)? 

#julie and the phantoms #sunset curve #jatp speculation #jatp spoilers

[tricktster]

Honestly, I cannot say enough about my german study abroad program, in no small part because the people i met through it were the wildest bunch i have ever met. We had:

Me, a cursed American stumbling through increasingly unlikely and unfortunate situations, including:

getting arrested and hauled off in a cop car for the serious crime of not transcribing the five digit number printed on the back of my bus ticket onto the front of my bus ticket

slipping on dog poop on a crowded street while running late for class (leading a number of tourists to run over and photograph me in my undignified heap on the cobblestones) only to suffer one final indignity when i had to leave my poop shoe out in the hall outside the classroom, and subsequently discovered after class that it had been (correctly) identified as garbage by the custodian, and had been disposed of

spending the entire month of November with essentially no money after a bank error caused me to be cut off from my US checking account, thereby forcing me to figure out how to survive by my wits alone in a series of schemes, cons, and 1€ sausages

burning my thumb so badly on an oven in an attempt to make the world’s worst stuffing for the world’s saddest expat thanksgiving that my friends all had an intervention where they gave me a single black glove to wear because it was grossing them all out.

Enough about me. There were also my closest friends:

L , a horrendously wealthy New Englander who would drop lines in her stories like “so we were all smoking opium in my parents library,” and, “so every time my room gets too dirty, i just move to the next one down until the whole wing is filthy.” In spite of everything I’ve just said, she was also a genuinely good and incredibly fearless person who would throw fists without hesitation if she thought anyone was insulting her friends. She had a weird sexual relationship with her obscenely wealthy family friend in Frankfurt, which the rest of us suspected maybe been part of a business deal that their parents arranged at birth. It was better than Game of Thrones, honestly.

Y, a four foot tall Puerto Rican that I met when we were both walking down the street kind of near each other and some wild impulse called me to say to her, without so much as an introduction, “Yeah, you walk pretty cool, but if you wanna walk REAL cool, you gotta do it like thissssss,” while kinda lunging around. Just as inexplicably, she chose to continue talking to me, and several months later the two of us ended up making a harrowing 2:00 am escape from the private bar of a frat house that we had suddenly noticed had an awful lot of Nazi memorabilia on the walls for a frat located in a country that had criminalized the display of Nazi symbols. “Why are you leaving?” The frat-nazis complained as we bolted. “You will come back tomorrow afternoon for the barbecue, ja?” “Ahahhahaha nein fucking way, motherfucker,” Y muttered under her breath as we smiled and nodded politely all the way out the private garden, through the enormous iron gates, and out into the night. Once we were in the clear, we stared at each other, shaken, until Y broke the silence. “Welp. Those guys were Nazis. That actually just happened. I can’t.... man, I dunno, i’m still processing, let’s just go get some fucking falafel.”

We did.

S, the Australian, who one time invited me over to her apartment, opened the fridge, grabbed a plate of cheese, shoved it under my nose while going “HERE SMELL THIS!” and while i lurched away, gagging, cheerfully added “IT’S REALLY FOUL, RIGHT? ONE OF THE WOST THINGS I’VE EVER SMELLED!!” She was also absolutely obsessed with High School Musical, and was very disappointed every time the Americans shattered one of her illusions about the US public school system.

K, the girl from New Zealand, who had broken up with her serious boyfriend shortly before leaving for Germany, causing her to mourn his loss every time she got drunk by describing his penis with increasingly strange metaphors, such as “like a big wax candle but part of it’s gone,” and “like one leg off a spider.”

So, i had a pretty solid crew of five big weirdos. But there were, naturally, more people than the five of us in our program. For example:

R, from Minnesota, who dressed like she was about 72 and glared at anyone who was laughing too loudly near her because “i just don’t think jokes are funny.” More importantly, she would post facebook videos of herself reciting, entirely sincerely and in a steady monotone, the worst fucking poems that I have ever heard. She posted them under a pen name that was along the same lines as “the lyrical falcon.” She was in a feud with not one but two poetry clubs at her christian college, and while she never admitted this, all evidence suggested that it was because they both kicked her out. She was the Tommy Wisseau of poems. They were so bad they looped back around to good. Also, one time on the train she told me that she liked to think that she was a very good kisser because she played the french horn so she had strong mouth muscles. when i finally recovered from the mortal blow that she just delivered my soul, I asked her if she blew into people when she kissed them, and she got so insulted that she blocked me from her facebook poetry page. let me back in, R. please, if you’re reading this, let me back in.

They’re good poems, R.

Zoolander, from Pennsylvania, who was so, so handsome, but so, so, so dumb. One time he told me about this dream he had, and it was just an entire episode of Dexter’s lab. No changes or anything, he just... dreamed that he was watching that episode, and then the whole thing played in his head until it was done. He said it was the best dream he’d ever had. I once watched him pick up the same coin off the street four times because he couldn’t figure out that his pocket had a hole in it. When he noticed me, he said excitedly “Somebody left money everywhere!”

Juan, who constantly confused all the kids from Spain who went up to talk to him in their native tongue, only to discover that he was a very sarcastic man from Liverpool who didn’t speak a word of Spanish and was sick of everyone trying to bond with him. He only liked the Americans, because that’s where the tv show Family Guy was from, and only the Americans liked him, because we tend to like surly british assholes for basically no reason. At the end of the program while we were all saying our goodbyes, he came up to me, looking really upset. “I can’t believe it,” He said, uncharacteristically serious. “I can’t believe it’s all over and i’ll never...” He looked like he was about to cry.

“Oh, dude, we can keep in touch on facebook or something?” I fumbled. He blinked.

“What? No, no, ugh, it’s just the last day of the program and I’ve LOST MY FOOKIN SCARF!” he roared.

God, I know this is weird, but I still really miss that guy.

The Croatian: There was a dude from Croatia in my apartment building who outright refused to tell me his name, because, “It’s an embarrassing word in English. You’d laugh.” I badgered him for five months, until finally, his defenses down, after many earnest promises that no matter what his name was, I would not laugh, he relented.

“My name is Tin.” He said sheepishly.

His name was fucking Tin.

Beardy, Beardo, Redbeard, and Weirdbeard: four drastically different young men from all across our beautiful planet who had one thing in common: thinking that they’d try out a beard while they were abroad. We always admired them from a distance, and compared their beards’ various unique and bad properties, until one day Beardy (who was australian and had developed a sort of flesh colored goatee) walked up to S, his countryman, in a club. “DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?” he yelled, trying to get her attention, but she was in a dance-off with K, and didn’t notice, so he tapped her shoulder. She whirled around, startled, and upon recognizing him, said without thinking, “OH, HI BEARDY!”

The song faded out.

Beardy stared at S.

“...Did you just call me ‘Beardy?’” he asked quietly. S looked like a deer in the headlights. She glanced towards me, hoping for an out, but I, dear reader, was laughing too hard to be of any use.

“You did,” he went on, “you called me ‘Beardy!’ Why!?”

“Cuz of your beard, probably. That’s a better name for you than Josh.” Zoolander interjected from out of nowhere, strolling out of the club, a beautiful woman on each arm.

“My name isn’t Josh...” Beardy tried to call after him.

“Who’s name isn’t Josh? Oh! Beardy!” A drunk K could be heard deducing from the back of the room.

He shaved it a week later, but the damage was done. He was Beardy for the rest of the semester.

When I look back on that period of my life now, I can’t help but reflect - with the clarity one only gets from experience - that my time in Germany was not as weird as I thought it was at the time. I lacked the perspective to see that it was all, actually, absolutely bonkers batshit nuts. It was some sitcom shit.

All in all, I highly recommend it.