#am i still upset about missing grad last week yes i am sorry

[acetechne]

4a oli

the other day i was doing my usual hypothetical "oh when we meet in toronto on a fantasy vacation we will go to the tim hortons innovation cafe" with friends and then of course i went to find pictures and its closed permanently because all the business people left the financial district or whatever so this is Ol mourning the loss of his dream doughnuts, moment of silence please

[letscuttothefeeling]

season three episode three

Let me start off by congratulating the producers – not you Ish – on this great episode. I finally feel like we’re back to THE SHOW. Not a weird Bachelor spin-off with minimal drama and blatantly horrible editing (see: Juliette’s grad party scene, where Chloe’s nails change color DURING THE PARTY.) Nope, we’re done with that and back to the good stuff, so on that note, let’s cut to the feeling.

Come ON MTV it’s like you weren’t even trying. And yes, I created this, and no, I don’t have a life.

I know I’m going to like an episode when it starts off with the angelic sounds of my lord and savior, Ariana Grande. As break up with ur girlfriend, i’m bored plays, we zoom into Cara’s house. Personally, I’m hoping to see Victoria. Alas – it’s just Cara…and Garrett. God, Garrett STOP. Your ex-girlfriend has already outlined exactly how Cara is using you – since she did the exact same thing - and you’re still asking Cara on dates? This is so cringe. Where’s Victoria?!

Even though Garrett can’t score a date, Brandon can! Maybe instead of asking Cara to go look at babies, you should ask her to rollerblade, G Baby. As Amanda and Brandon glide around the Key, we learn that Brandon is celebrating his 24th birthday on Friday! And it’s “24, Like, Karat Gold Slash, Like, Pirate, Sort Of” themed, of course! He debates whether or not to invite Juliette while giving us viewers amazing helmet safety tips. Meanwhile, after Cara has removed G Baby from her property, she makes her way to Chloe’s to checkuppé on her. This is where we learn that Chloe has officially called the cops and filed a police report. I have a lot of opinions, but more on this later.

Okay, something I haven’t touched on because I wish it wasn’t happening I haven’t had time is that Kelsey and Jared have sparked a little romance. If you don’t remember, while Kelsey was dating her random LA boyfriend, Jared was the 86th person she cheated on him with. I see this going well! I mean, it always works out when you leave someone you cheated on for the person you cheated with. Right? Plus, there’s Twisted Tea and mudding involved, so Kelsey can rest assured she’ll be going on sophisticated and expensive dates instead of the shitty and poor dates that Garrett used to take her on.

FINALLY, the C + V scene I need and deserve. Donning a black one-piece that contrasts perfectly with her frozen fruity pink drink, Victoria is effortlessly exuding two polar opposite, chaotic energies. I’m getting “sassy”, but I’m also getting “I’ll fuck you up if you insult my 90’s Quiksilver skater shoes.” AKA, I’m getting Avril during the Girlfriend era. And I love it. As she floats next to Cara in the pool and shockingly proclaims that she’s not into guys, (what?!) I’m on my knees praying to God himself that she become a main cast member vis-à-vis a relationship with Cara. It’s Victoria’s show, and we’re all just living in it, baby. After Cara’s bizarre comment about how her parents punish her by locking her in their wine cellar (weird flex, but okay) Victoria giggles about how dumb Garrett is and we move on.

We leave C and V for a Madisson and Kelsey reunion, but it’s not a happy one. Madisson delivers the unfortunate news that Chloe may be pressing charges. Oh no! I would be really upset by this, but I can’t focus on the content of Madisson’s words because of how she’s delivering them. Madisson, we fully understand that you’ve been to an acting class in LA because you won’t shuttupé about it, so you can stop over-enunciating everything that comes out of your mouth. Thanks!

After Kelsey tells Juliette about her impending stint in Florida prison, she gets understandably upset. Luckily, Boring Robby is there to teach Juliette how to apologize. Don’t say he never did anything for her! I want to point out that Kelsey truly has been redeeming herself this season. She’s been pretty level headed and a very good friend. If only Boring Robby could do the same… Later in the day, Kelsey confronts Robby about another thing Madisson spilled during their meetup. Apparently, while Juliette was fighting everyone last week, Boring Robby had the audacity to applaud her! How gauche. Boring Robby vehemently denies these claims, saying, “Always take the high road, because the low road is way too crowded,” and, “Silence is the best way to react to a fool, and happiness is the best revenge.” First of all, stop lying about things that were FILMED on national television. You’re now Boring Robby: The Liar. Second of all, why are you the human embodiment of my ninth grade Pinterest quotes board?

Grab your pillows and sleeping bags because we are heading to a SLUMBER PARTY! But before anyone can start braiding each other’s hair, Chloe begins to stir the pot, yet again. She delights in bringing up Brandon and Amanda’s new relationship right in front of Madisson. But to distract from the awkwardness, Amanda changes the subject to her missing phone. After the fight, she lost her phone and no one has been able to find it. She starts to give us a play-by-play analysis of why and how she thinks Boring Robby: The Liar stole it. I’m sorry, am I watching Joe Goldberg on You, or am I watching Amanda on Siesta Key? 

It’s the day of the BG’s bday, and I’m so excited to see everyone’s 24 Karat Gold Slash Like Pirate themed outfits! They don’t disappoint - G Baby and Victoria are even matching!! I’ve never screamed so loudly in my life. Garrett obviously refuses to drink, and we’re off to the party. But first, there’s one guest who needs to arrive.

As Alex descends from his family’s PJ strapped with Louis luggage, a BEER, and fresh digs straight from the Siesta Key mall, I can feel the blood coming back into my body. I can feel individual atoms multiplying. I can feel my soul re-entering my empty, hollow frame. I feel exactly like Bella in the fourth Twilight novel, Breaking Dawn. After her half-human, half-vampire baby has eaten its way out of her uterine lining, Edward is forced to do the unthinkable: steal Bella’s mortal soul by turning her into a vampire so she has a shot to survive. (It’s the second time in the series that vampire Edward is forced to resist sucking all of Bella’s enticing blood to save her – that’s true love.) As she starts to respond to his venom, each and every one of her cells begins to freeze over and restore life to her body. Suddenly, she is awake. Her vision is sharp, her mind is clear, and she’s never looked better. And that’s EXACTLY how I felt as Alex exited his plane.

I expect nothing less than for Alex to arrive at BG’s party with three underage Ukrainian mail-order brides. And he doesn’t disappoint. Unfortunately for the brides, he immediately begins discussing relationships with Cara. It’s fun to see Cara pride herself in not cheating on people for the past year. I kind of feel like that should be a given, but okay. As they’re undressing each other with their eyes talking, Garrett is having an interesting convo of his own. Classic Chloe starts stirring the pot AGAIN by telling Garrett that Cara is using him. Really Chloe? Cara is supposed to be your best friend. What’s more shocking is that VICTORIA starts to betray Cara as well. This causes an immediate fight between Carrett. They leave the party and start screaming at each other in the jungle. I’m so enraptured by the fight that I momentarily forget they’re at a themed party and fixate on Garrett’s outfit. Why am I watching Garrett Miller scream in a jungle dressed as a pirate? Oh, right. Anyways.

Even though Cara and G Baby are scream fighting, the party continues to rage on. And everyone is makingoutté. Kelsey and Jared, Amanda and Brandon... something is in the air! It must be the pirate theme. #LetsGetScurvy. But one person isn’t feeling the love – Madisson. With Dad gone, she has no one to kish. Clearly bothered by watching her friend and ex-boyfriend eat each other’s faces, Madisson decides to give Brandon the sad news that Amanda is using him. Whether or not she is, Madisson has no right to give her opinion on the matter. And BG says exactly that. Good for him! Another person surprisingly not making out with someone is Alex. He’s too busy being an asshole to Kelsey and telling anyone who will listen that Boring Robby is bad news. Probably true, but literally no one can be worse than he is, except maybe Pauly Paul. In other news, WHERE IS PAUL.

Unfortunately, the next scene doesn’t involve Pauly or Victoria – just Chloe and Juliette. Juliette shows up after Chloe gets out of work to hopefully avoid jailtime hash things out. Now strap in because I’m about to explain exactly where I stand with the Chloe/Juliette drama, and if you aren’t completely focused, please take a 10mg Adderall, wait ten minutes, and check back in.

Okay, hopefully, you’ve taken amphetamines and can really dial in. Here goes: I realize that Chloe is a necessary evil - it’s an indisputable fact that there would be no show without her antics. No one is as shameless when it comes to talking shit and completely ruining their friendships for the sake of television. And for that, I deeply respect Chloe. (I realize that sounds sarcastic but I am dead serious. Thank you for taking one for the team, Chloe.) But I simply cannot stand when she gets what’s coming to her then plays the innocent victim. Obviously, violence is not cool, and Juliette should be embarrassed by her behavior. But Chloe knew exactly what the outcome of that conversation would be. She was banking on a wasted Juliette reacting horribly. With Chloe, you simply cannot win. Earlier in this episode, Chloe verbatim says to Madisson and Cara, “If the roles were reversed, I would have shown up at her house, apologizing.”

Now cut to this scene, where Chloe verbatim says to Juliette (after Juliette shows up at her workplace) “I really don’t know why you’re here, so if you can please leave and leave me alone.”

Juliette said it best herself – “Chloe is my best friend when I’m miserable. When I’m actually thriving…this type of stuff happens.” Let’s take a moment to analyze the similarities and differences of how Chloe and the rest of the cast handled Chloe’s altercation with Amanda during season one, in which Amanda broke Chloe’s nose and sent her to surgery. After sending Chloe to the hospital, Amanda justifies her actions by saying that Chloe started it first. So everyone is okay with Amanda decking Chloe. The fact is, Chloe started it first here, too. Chloe swatted at Juliette’s hand first. So why did everyone grab coffee with Amanda, but ostracize Juliette? Amanda even had a sit-down conversation with Chloe after her surgery expecting Chloe to apologize. The inconsistencies and hypocrisy present…I CANNOT.

Chloe acts like everyone’s best friend to stay relevant and betrays them the second it benefits her. While I do agree that Juliette is only apologizing because she’s scared Chloe will press charges, I think people who talk shit, unfortunately, get hit, on occasion. Until next week!

[your-stitcher-thursday]

Fifth Times the Charm - Secret Santa Fic

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year KJ  @lizziesaltyzman  ! I’m so sorry this is getting to you so late. Here is your fluffy Camsten fic. It’s a College AU.  Please forgive my complete lack of knowledge about how labs/science theses work. Hopefully you still enjoy it! @stitcherssecretsanta2018

“I’m worried about you, Mr. Goodkin..”

After countless hours in the lab together, Dr. Clark has only ever looked this serious one other time. Given that that time involved one of his grad students getting nearly electrocuted along with half the lab, Cameron was sure this wasn’t shaping up to be a good talk.

“You’re on your third -“

Fourth, Cameron silently corrected in his head.

“- coder for your thesis project. At this rate you’ll have burned through all of the computer science department by your defense, if you get there at all.”

None of this was new information to Cameron, but it stung to hear everything laid out so matter of factly. You could make the argument that Marta leaving was his fault. They had been awake over two days when she’d had her accident.

The other two failures were clearly not Cameron’s. How was he to know Alex would end up creating and launching an app to help people manage their high blood pressure? There was no way to predict that. Camille had been working out great for several weeks. She was insightful and creative. They worked well together. That is until she saw Amanda Weston’s project on postmortem modeling. Camille jumped ship almost immediately.

The only hope Cameron had at this point was that he would get along swimmingly with his new partner Tim. There was no plan b.

—————————————————————-

When Kirsten Clark first met her half sister she knew that there were ways her life would change. There was another person she had to program into her calendar so she would remember to check in with them. There was someone else to inexplicably ask how she was doing at random intervals. There was one more member that understood just how tangled up one could be in the legacy of Daniel Stinger.

What she hadn’t anticipated was her newfound inability to say no. Whenever Ivy asked for a favor, Kirsten felt herself crumble inside. It was maddening, annoying, and meant that Kirsten was sitting front row, center in the coldest classroom ever at seven o’clock at night. She was meant to be studying or preparing to teach. If Ivy needed moral support for a one-off workshop though, here she was.

The room filled up the way these things always did. Most students sat in the back. A few brave souls ventured toward the front to better see the board. That was how Kirsten ended up with the only open seat right next to her.

Ten minutes into the lecture, an absolute whirlwind of a person burst into the room. As if the door cracking hard against the wall wasn’t enough of an announcement of his arrival, the guy tripped over someone’s messenger bag nearly toppling over. He just kept mouthing ‘sorry’ as his eyes swept the room. When his eyes finally met Kirsten’s, she pointed at the seat next to her.

Later that evening when Ivy teased her about it, Kirsten told her that she most certainly did not blush when Cameron smiled at her. It was the cold. There was no spark there. He just looked so lost throughout the whole workshop. And he called her Ada Lovelace when she helped him work through a line of code at the end.

How could she not want to see him again?

———————————————-

Cameron still wasn’t sure what was going on with the blonde from the coding workshop he attended. Yes, she gave him her number - without any prompting. Yes, she had been texting him.

But how could you have a maybe sort of thing going on with a woman whose name you didn’t know?

There were bigger issues Cameron was facing - Tim’s lack of respect for him, his utter inability to get along with Tim, how hard his thesis was going to fail without Tim’s help, avoiding his thesis advisor etc. Add in attending and teaching classes and he was flush with problems.

None of them occupied his mind like her though.

Before Cameron realized what he was doing he texted Ada about his immediate frustration.

how do people get tables in the library during midterms? who do i need to sell my soul to?

An answer came back almost immediately with a coffee order. Cameron sent back a line of question marks in reply.

I have a study room for the next three hours - that’s my price to share it.

Cameron nearly sank down in relief. He waited in an obnoxiously long line behind all the other caffeine deprived college students. It took him almost an hour to acquire coffee and muffins for his new friend. When he arrived at the study room, it was completely worth it for how she looked at him.

Her hands wrapped around the warmth of her coffee cup. “You’re welcome back anytime now that you know the price of admission. I’m here on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 11. Plus, technically these are supposed to be group study rooms so you’d legitimize my usage.”

“How did you swing that schedule? They only let you book rooms a week in advance,” Cameron asked.

The blonde stared at her cup, a soft smile twitched at the edge of her mouth. “It’s not technically against the rules, but it’s probably not fair. I wrote a program that automatically goes in to reserve the room as soon as they open up online.”

Cameron laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me, ZeroCool.”

—————————————————

“Here’s your muffin, Muffin,” Cameron said as he presented Kirsten with her customary baked good and coffee.

Sometimes Kirsten marveled at the seemingly fathomless list of nicknames Cameron had for her. She’d been Stretch when she recovered his pen from a particularly hard to reach spot. She’d been Brainiac when she helped him fix his computer. She’d been Angel when she returned a laptop bag she found to the library staff. And now she was Muffin.

“Some days I wonder if you even know my name, Cameron. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use it,” Kirsten told him as she popped a piece of muffin in her mouth.

The tips of Cameron’s ears turned bright pink. “Well…”

Kirsten ran back over their first meeting in her head. She had asked for his phone and put the number in. Cameron had sent her a text with his name in it. That had probably been a cue that Kirsten had completely missing. Her hands went to her eyes, covering them in embarrassment.

“It’s Kirsten and if you haven’t noticed I don’t people well,” she told him.

Cameron shrugged. “You do well enough with me.”

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

“What’s another word for passionate?” Kirsten murmured, not taking her eyes off of her computer screen.

Cameron looked up from his own work. He had been absorbed in Tim’s latest notes - which were marginally better than last week’s, but not by much. “Context? I’m not sure if you’re writing an online review of a restaurant or a love letter there.”

Kirsten snorted as she deleted several keystrokes. “I’m writing a personal statement for a project I want to work on. There have been a couple of openings this semester, but I always seem to miss them. I figure if I leave a packet with my CV and a proposal that maybe they’ll take me before they realize how difficult I am to work with.”

It seemed unlikely to Cameron that any team wouldn’t want Kirsten working with them. She was extremely good at what she did, detail-oriented, and incredibly focused. Any time she talked about her current projects, they seemed nearly impossible to Cameron. That was when he even understood what she was talking about. When Kirsten get excited about something it was so hard to interrupt her for clarification. Her enthusiasm was no less enjoyable when it completely went over Cameron’s head.

“They’d be idiots not to take you.” Cameron smirked. “Just don’t tell them you’re feeling amorous about the project.”

Kirsten’s blue eyes finally strayed from her typing. They assessed Cameron for a long moment, sweeping over his face. “You’re funny.” She retreated to her work again.

They worked in relative silence for the next few moments. The study room was filled with the comforting sort of calm that Cameron had come to associate with Kirsten. Instead of working on his project, Cameron started pulling up articles on personal statements.

“Have you written about why you’re so interested in the project?” He asked.

A flash of something unidentifiable crossed Kirsten’s face. “I really don’t think they want to hear about my dead mom. ”It took Cameron a moment to fully absorb what she was telling him. Her tone was so matter of fact. “It happened a long time ago. I barely remember her. It seems cheap to tell them that their research could’ve helped her.”

A tiny ache clawed at Cameron’s chest. “I think that’s exactly what you should tell them.”

There was more he wanted to ask her, to tell her about his life. As if Fate or Destiny hated him though, an undergrad decided that was the exact moment to start banging on the study room window. Nevermind that they still had another half an hour until it was his.

And just like that the moment was gone.

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

It wasn’t like Cameron to be late or miss one of their work sessions. Kirsten found herself working much slower without him in her space. That might have had something to do with the fact that she checked her phone every fifteen seconds for a text that had yet to arrive.

Five hundred and forty-one disappointing notification checks later, a text finally came through.

i’m so sorry i didn’t text you sooner. this thing came up with my dad and i’ve been sorting it out.

This was not something Kirsten was prepared for. She was not good with empathy or sympathy. There were few people in the world less helpful when people were upset than she was. This was Cameron though so she had to at least try to comfort him.

Is he okay? Is there anything I can do to help?

Kirsten stared at her reply, thinking of all the ways she could’ve made it sound better.

he’s just a terminally shitty person.

It was awful, and she recognized it, but Kirsten was kind of relieved. Dealing with trash dads was a specialty of hers.

He should meet my father. They could start a club.

It took a long time for Cameron to respond. Kirsten started to rethink her text. Had it been the wrong move to say that? Did it sound like she was trying to one up him?

he’s in jail for embezzlement, maybe paroled soon. it was awful when he went in. my mom and i changed our last name and everything just to get away. 

Kirsten was still puzzling over what to say when there was a knock at the window. Cameron was on the other side looking slightly rumpled.

“Lunch? My treat,” he mouthed on the other side of the glass.

He apparently didn’t notice that she had already started packing up the second she saw him.

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

There was no getting around how awful working with Tim was. Cameron couldn’t take it anymore. They had terrible communication. Half the time a week’s worth of research went to waste. Tim thought Cameron didn’t know anything about what he did - which was true- but he also didn’t respect that Cameron knew his own field well.

Dr. Clark had been hounding Cameron constantly for updates. It was like he could sense how terribly things were going for them. Cameron knew that it was because he wanted him to succeed. There was something worse about disappointing someone you respected than being yelled at.

Facing the music now meant that he might have a new partner picked and up to speed before the semester ended. He stared up at the medical arts building as though the glass and steel could give him what he needed. His hand went to his pocket for his phone without thinking.

send help, rocky. I’m about to tell my thesis advisor that i can’t work with my partner anymore. this goodkin is about to get a good kick in the face.

Kirsten didn’t respond, but reaching out to her, as always, made Cameron feel a little better. He adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder and headed toward his doom.

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

There were often times when Kirsten felt a little behind what was going on. She wasn’t the best at reading people or their sarcasm. Her pop cultural knowledge was severely lacking. These things made it hard for her to socialize in groups or with new people.

Kirsten had never felt this blindsided though.

Cameron - her Cameron - was C. Goodkin. This was the guy she convinced Ed to hire based solely on his previous papers. This was the guy who she had been trying to work with all semester - despite Uncle Ed’s protestations of nepotism if he helped her. This was the guy who wanted to communicate with coma patients. He knew her reasons for wanting to work on this project. They got along well too, which wasn’t always the case with her and colleagues.

As though Kirsten’s entire world hadn’t been knocked off balance, Ed continued going on about the holiday party his department was throwing. Apparently Mr. Ahluwalia made world famous cookies that Kirsten just had to try.

There was no good way to break any of what she had to say to Cameron in a text. Only a phone call would work, even though she really hated those.

“Uncle Ed, I have to make a call,” Kirsten said as she stood up.

Her fingers were gripping the handle when the door swung out, pulling Kirsten with it. She nearly toppled into Cameron, who looked as though he were marching to his death. Kirsten inwardly shrugged. She’d have to wing this.

“Let me handle the talking,” she whispered at Cameron, gesturing for him to come in the door. There was nothing for him to do but follow her lead.

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

Cameron wasn’t sure why or how Kirsten was in Dr. Clark’s office, but he didn’t much care at that point. If she saved him, he would owe her for the rest of his life.

“Mr. Goodkin, did we have an appointment?” Dr. Clark asked. “We could meet in a few minutes if you’d like.”

The lump in Cameron’s throat grew. He made some sort of movement that was half between shrug and nervous arm flinging. As Cameron sat next to Kirsten he noticed how remarkably calm she was. Her hand stilled his forearm, resting just long enough for Cameron’s brain to register the feel of her.

“Cameron knew I was meeting you for lunch so he figured now would be a good time to tell you we’re working together.” Kirsten slid him a questioning look. “We can start immediately. I’m familiar with most of his work so it shouldn’t take too long for me to get caught up.”

The realization finally hit Cameron. Kirsten was offering to do the coding for his thesis. She was literally saving his academic career and still somehow looked nervous about her. Did she think he wasn’t serious about how much he admired her work?

“Yeah. I think we should be in good shape if we start now.” Cameron echoed her sentiment.

Dr. Clark looked between the both of them. “Okay. I’d like an update this time next week.” He gestured toward the door. “I’ll see you then.”

Cameron followed Kirsten out of the office, still in kind of a daze over how quickly things turned around. He nearly fell down the stairs trying to keep up with his new partner. When they finally got outside Cameron pulled her toward a bench.

“What just happened?”

Kirsten smiled. “Do you know how much trouble we could’ve saved each other if we knew each other’s last names?”

Her arms swooped around Cameron, pulling him in for a hug. He wanted answers, but for now he would settle for the softness of Kirsten’s hair against his cheek.

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

There was nothing worse than socializing with large groups of people. Kirsten had to track how all of them were feeling at every moment. She had to make sure she wasn’t showing off or playing dumb. There was also the small matter of pretending that any of these people were interesting and worth talking to.

Take Liam for instance, he had decided that it was important to discuss in great detail what his workout regimen was for each day. He was on leg day when Cameron finally rejoined the group.

“Hey, we hate to run, but Kirsten and I have another party to hit,” Cameron said as he twined their fingers together, pulling her toward him. “Catch you all later.”

There were two warring emotions in Kirsten. The one was absolute elation that she got to leave. The other was annoyance that she had to put in another appearance somewhere.

“Another party?” Kirsten asked. “How many people will I have to talk to?”

Cameron smiled at her. “One.”

There was no way that was true unless...

“Are we just going back to your place to watch Netflix and order takeout?” Kirsten sagged in relief against Cameron. “That sounds perfect.”

Cameron disentangled their fingers. He wrapped his arm around Kirsten and pulled her in closer. His head dropped down to place a kiss on her head.

“That was my thought too.”

[aworldofmyownliking]

scarlet vision fic under the cut

Title: With Every Breath That I Am Worth

Synopsis: Speculative post-Civil War fic where everyone thinks about choices, Wanda and Vision find their way back to each other, and Clint realizes there’s more to Vision than he once thought. Told from Wanda and Clint’s POV, this story starts after the escape from The Raft and ends with Wanda in Edinburgh just before Infinity War.

***

“What are you thinking about, Miss Maximoff?”

“Please, call me Wanda.”

“Alright. What are you thinking about, Wanda?”

“I’m thinking about choices.”

“What about them?”

“We all make choices in this life. It’s what defines us, I think. Like when you saved me in Novi Grad. You were giving your purpose more of a meaning and it will shape who you are. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it makes perfectly logical sense. There are good and bad choices, and they make you good or bad in time.”

“Sometimes it’s not that simple.”

***

Almost three months after their escape from The Raft, Wanda Maximoff smiled (a true, happy smile) for the first time since leaving the hellish oceanic prison, and Clint Barton was the first to notice. They were all crammed together at the breakfast table in a dismal little apartment in the small Polish town of Lublin when it happened.

Natasha had pulled some strings with her safe house connections after they’d left Bucky in Wakanda, and the group of fugitives—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, Scott, and himself—had been laying low in Poland for the past two and a half weeks. It was a little too close for comfort, if you asked Clint, which no one ever did.

Sam pulled the chair out next to him and sat down, roughly bumping Clint’s arm in the process and causing him to spill coffee on his eggs.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” he mumbled to himself. He missed the wide, open spaces of the farm where he wasn’t constantly banging into his teammates every six seconds, and where he could enjoy his breakfast with Laura in peace before any of the kids woke up.

A sharp pang of longing went through him and he sighed. Who knew when he’d get to see his family again. They’d stayed with them for a little over a week after their initial escape, but Clint had agreed to leave at the insistence of Nat and Steve. It wasn’t safe there, he knew. It still stung, though, having to leave his family after he’d just been reunited with them again.

Instead, here he was, nose to nose with “Team Cap”, as the new stations had started calling them. Oh, how lucky he was.

“Good morning, Wanda!” Sam chirped, adding cream and sugar to his own cup of coffee. “How are you this morning?”

Clint looked up to see Wanda standing in the doorway of the kitchen wearing her usual ensemble of dark gray and black. Natasha had helped her dye her hair a lighter color, which he knew she hated. She was constantly messing with it, like she was doing now, passing the orange strands between her fingers in a nervous gesture.

“Fine,” was Wanda’s somewhat flippant response as she plopped down into the seat opposite Clint. Clint watched as she reached for a piece of toast, wordlessly passed her the strawberry jam, and gave her a soft smile.

The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Life after The Raft had been rough for Wanda, leaving her with angry, slowly fading burn marks on her neck and bouts of horrible night terrors. It hurt Clint to see the kid suffer so much. He’d tried to give her as much space as she needed, but it was starting to frustrate him that he couldn’t help her beyond asking if she was okay, which he knew she’d stopped answering truthfully so that he’d stop asking.

“What’s the plan for today, Steve?” Natasha asked as she flipped a piece of platinum blonde hair out of her face.

Clint was still getting used to the new look on her, too. The entire time he’d known Nat her hair was always cherry red, but he thought the blonde suited her. Not that he’d ever tell her that, of course. He had too much fun teasing her about it.

The table looked expectantly at Steve, whose usually comforting demeanor was now a stern, subdued mask.

“I’m looking into a few things,” he said. “Nat, I’ll need your help, and Wanda’s, too. I’m looking for more ways to help cure Bucky’s mind…Wanda?”

Clint looked at the girl who was sitting across from him. She was looking out the window of the apartment, her eyes a million miles away. At Steve’s inquiry, she turned back to the table.

“What? Oh, sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I was off in my own little world.”

The crew returned to the conversation at hand, but Clint kept stealing suspicious glances at Wanda. It may have been too quick to notice, but he knew he wasn’t imagining things. Wanda Maximoff had been staring out the window with a big, moony smile plastered all over her face and Clint was pretty sure he knew why.

***

“How did you find me?”

“I intercepted a message that said there’d been rumors of you all coming to Wakanda.”

“Why are you here, Vision?”

“To—to see you. The way we left things…and when Mr. Stark told me about The Raft, I had to see you and make sure you were alright. I miss you terribly, Wanda.”

“I think you should go.”

***

Wanda turned around after the two gentle knocks sounded on her window just in time to see Vision phasing through from outside. The moonlight spilling in from the street cast his shadow in an elongated shape across the room, and Wanda followed it like a guide until she was standing directly in front of him.

“Hello,” Vision said, floating down to the floor, his yellow cape swishing behind him.

“Hi,” Wanda replied. She could feel the wide grin plastered on her face that she inevitably always wore whenever she saw him these days.

She felt like one of the school girls back in Sokovia; the ones who would always clutch her arm and ask her if Pietro was available with their high-pitched voices and fluttering eyelashes. They had annoyed her to no end, and now, she was them.

She’d told herself a million times that this was dangerously reckless, yet the two of them kept scheduling more meetings. And Wanda found the more meetings they scheduled, the more she missed Vision when he left, and the more she didn’t care about how reckless they were being.

“Thanks for meeting me here while everyone’s gone. I’m sorry about earlier, but I think Clint is suspicious. He’s been following me around for the last few days.”

Vision frowned. He grasped Wanda’s hands and stepped a little bit closer. “What would you like to do?”

Wanda blinked. It took her a moment to process his question. He’d started rubbing crescent moons across the tops of her hands with his thumbs, leaving her throat dry and her hands tingling. She was suddenly very aware just how close they were. This was all still so exciting and new, that sometimes their interactions left her head spinning.

“I, uh, think we should lay low for a little bit. Stop seeing each other,” she said finally.

Vision’s shoulders slumped slightly and his gaze dropped from her face to the floor. Wanda winced.

“Just until I can throw Clint off,” she finished quickly. “It’s too risky. I don’t want to completely stop seeing you, Vis, but you have to understand it’s the smartest choice right now.”

“Yes, I understand,” he replied, his gaze still locked on the floor.

Wanda’s heart went out to him. She hated seeing him upset. She squeezed his hands in a comforting gesture. “Won’t they miss you back at the compound?”

Vision smiled at that. It had become a private joke between them, since Vision was almost always alone at the compound these days. Tony was too distracted with mentoring (if you could call it that) Peter Parker and Rhodey was visiting his sister’s family for an indefinite amount of time.

“I’m sure they’re wondering where I’ve gone off to this time,” Vision said. “I’ve got them worried sick.”

Wanda laughed, but it was cut off by the sound of her bedroom door lock being picked.

In an instant, Clint burst into the room, nocked an arrow in his bow and had it pointed squarely at Vision’s forehead.

Wanda spun around, red magic crackling between her fingers. She moved in front of Vision, who only seemed slightly startled by the fact that Clint had just waltzed in, and not that he was pointing an arrow at him.

“I knew it,” Clint said. He kicked the door shut behind him and lowered his weapon. “I knew something was going on with you two.”

Wanda felt the blush creeping up her neck until her face burned and the red tendrils dissipated when she realized Clint wasn’t going to be a threat. Both Vision and Wanda watched him as he walked a few steps across the room and plunked down onto Wanda’s bed.

“You have a loooot of explaining to do,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest in a smug fashion.

“Get out,” Wanda snapped.                                                                              

Clint sniffed, but didn’t budge.  

“Clint, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“I’d better go,” Vision said. He may not have understood all the intricacies of social interaction, but he could tell this was a conversation he shouldn’t be present for.

For the first time since he’d entered the room, Wanda took her eyes off Clint, and her gaze immediately softened when she looked at Vision. The hard, glittering eyes from seconds before became pleading and confused.

“Wait—” Wanda began. She reached for his hand in an attempt to make him stay.

“Don’t worry,” Vision said, finding her hand and squeezing her fingers lightly.

I’ll find you again, were the unspoken words that hung between them.

Wanda nodded. Vision placed a chaste kiss on her temple as he turned to go. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Clint shift awkwardly on the bed.

“Goodbye, Wanda,” he said. He turned toward the archer and gave a slight bow of his head. “Clint.”

Wanda watched him phase back through her bedroom wall and bit the inside of her lip. This was not the way she’d imagined tonight going.

“Yeah, you’re lucky I don’t tell Steve!” Clint called after him. But Vision was gone.

Wanda turned back around to face Clint, unamused. She could feel the irritation flowing through her, threatening to spill out of her fingertips in a scarlet storm. She’d meant to be cautious with Vision, and she thought she was doing just that when she’d told him they should cool off their meetings for a little while. And now Clint had barged in and ruined everything.

But Wanda knew it wasn’t Clint’s fault. She had no one to blame but herself. They’d been too reckless, too sure of themselves that they wouldn’t be caught. It was bound to happen eventually.

“That’s not funny.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Wanda! You know I wouldn’t tell Steve before letting you explain yourself. Which you should. Right now.”

She narrowed her eyes. With a flick of her wrist, the heaviest pillow on her bed rose up into the air and connected with the side of Clint’s head.

“I told you to get out!”

***

“How is it not that simple?”

“You’ll see. Sometimes choices are tied up in complications, sometimes they’re not. Sometimes you think you’re making the right choice but it ends up being the wrong one. Things change.”

“Wanda?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you regret them? Your choices?”

She thinks of HYDRA and her powers, of Ultron and the Avengers, of her brother.

“I think it’s still too early to tell.”

***

Wanda didn’t speak to Clint for the next two days. On the third day, he found an envelope on his pillow, his name written across it in neat cursive letters.

Inside was a letter from Vision.

Clint,                    

I take it that you and Wanda have worked things out, as no alarms have been sounded (figuratively speaking, of course). Wanda cares for you very much and I’m grateful she has a friend like you during this strange and dangerous time.

I would very much appreciate if you would give Wanda the letter I’ve written her. I will be eagerly awaiting her response. Tell her to meet me on the roof tonight at 11 o’clock.

Thank you for keeping our secret.

He had not signed his name at the bottom. Clint peered inside the envelope to find a smaller, thinner envelope inside with Wanda’s name printed on it in the same script.

He walked across the hall and banged on Wanda’s door.

“It’s me, open up.”

“Go away,” came Wanda’s muffled response.

Clint sighed and slid her letter under the door. He watched the shadows of her footfalls cross the room, heard the envelope scratch against the floor as she picked it up. It was silent for a beat and then Wanda slowly opened the door.

“What is this?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

The look on her face was one Clint hadn’t seen in a few years, not since she’d first joined the Avengers. All of her defenses were up, like when a cat paused just before it raised up on its hackles and pounced.

“He left it for me,” Clint said, indicating the letter in her hand. He held up his own letter. “There was a note for me, too. Can we talk?”

Reluctantly, Wanda stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. Clint did a quick take down both sides of the hall to make sure no one was lurking and crossed the threshold.

“Look, I know you don’t need me to lecture you about how badly this could all turn out. I won’t tell Steve or the others. In fact, I’m going to remove myself from the entire equation. I don’t want to know any more details. But just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

Wanda nodded and shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “How did you figure it out?”

Clint snorted. “No offense, Wanda, but it’s kind of obvious. Especially after what you told me in Wakanda. I’ve been around the block once or twice, you know.”

He remembered that day in Wakanda vividly. They’d only just arrived in the secret African kingdom and he’d been walking past Wanda’s room when he’d heard the distinct noise of someone crying and trying not to be too loud about it. Her door wasn’t closed all the way, and he could see her curled up on the bed, facing away from him.

“Hey, can I come in?” he asked, knocking on the door. Her nod was almost imperceptible, but he crossed the room and sat gingerly beside her on the soft duvet. “Is it the nightmares again?”

“No,” her voice was thick with tears. “It’s not that.”

Clint frowned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Wanda shook her head. Her shoulders shuddered as a new bout of tears flowed.

Clint figured she wouldn’t say anything and he’d contented himself with just sitting next to her in order to make her feel better. Eventually, the tears stopped and she was silent for a long time. Just as he was getting up to leave, the words all came tumbling out of her mouth.

“I miss Vision.”

Wanda stayed rolled on her side, facing away from him. When Clint sat back down on the bed she continued.

“I don’t know how to explain it. I know I shouldn’t miss him this much, but I do. He was my friend…sometimes my only friend, especially after Pietro. I would give anything to talk to him again one more time. I hate what these Accords have done to us. I hate the decisions we had to make because of them, I hate having to hide from everyone. Look where it got us!”

She began to cry again, and this time, she didn’t try to hold it back.  

It didn’t take long for Clint to connect the dots. He remembered the way he’d seen Vision immediately fall to the tarmac on his knees to make sure she was alright after Rhodes had blasted her with War Machine’s sonic beams. Or how moody she’d been as they drove to pick up Scott Lang after she’d buried Vision through multiple stories of compound rubble. At first, he’d thought she’d been angry with Vision (and maybe she was), but now he understood what he hadn’t noticed before.  

It was the way Wanda was speaking about him that gave him the most pause. There were too many hateful things that came to mind when he thought about Vision at that particular moment. But the way Wanda was talking about him told him that wasn’t what she wanted—or needed—to hear right now.

Clint could hear the tenderness in her voice. She may not have realized it, but he did. It was the same way he’d heard Tony talk about Pepper, and the way he’d heard Nat speak about Banner after he’d disappeared.

It was the same way he talked about Laura and the kids. It was the way you talked about someone you loved, and all the words that Wanda wasn’t saying said everything.

He placed a hand on Wanda’s trembling shoulder. “I hate what they’ve done to us, too, kid.”

Now, in the Lublin apartment, Wanda stood in front of him with beet red cheeks. Her gaze became fixed on the floor and she toed the creaky wooden panels with her boot.

“I have to admit, I didn’t understand it at first,” Clint said (he still didn’t fully understand it, either, if he was being honest). He took a seat on the bed, careful to watch out for any flying pillows this time. “My first suspicion was that he was using you to get intel for Tony or something, that he was manipulating you. Hence the following you around and the barging in last night. I was angry, because of how he kept you in the compound—”

Wanda looked up. “That’s not what you think,” she said softly.

Clint held a hand up. “But when I saw you two together last night, I knew that that’s not what it was at all. I just need to know that both of you are considering the consequences of your actions.”

Wanda snorted. “Thanks, Dad.”

She crossed the room and joined him on the bed. She began picking at her already chipped black finger nail polish (a gift Nat had swiped for her after helping break them out of The Raft).

“It always comes back to choices,” Wanda murmured.

“What?”

She shook her head, peach strands of hair blocking her face.

“The Accords forced us all to make choices, and I think Vision realized he wasn’t happy with the one he’d made. He told me so in Wakan—”

Clint waved a hand in the air as if he were waving her words away.

“Right sorry, you don’t want to know details. Anyways, he decided to make a different choice. And I think we’re both still trying to figure out if it’s the right one. We’ve both agreed that whatever this is, we want to do it right. So, we’re being very careful. I promise.”

Clint nodded. His burner phone buzzed in his pocket, signaling that he had a text message.

“It’s Nat, she needs help with something,” he said, flipping the phone closed. He stood from the bed and ruffled Wanda’s hair. “Good talk.”

She smacked his hand away. “I will hit you with another pillow.”

“Hey,” he said just as he was about to leave the room. “If you need any advice or whatever, I’ll give you some. But please, for the love of God, try not to need any advice.”

Wanda rolled her eyes. She knew deep down that if she were ever in a crisis Clint would drop everything and help her, and she thanked him as he left. She looked down at the letter still in her hands, her fingers tracing over the cursive lettering of her name on the cream-colored paper.

She remembered that first night Vision had come to her in Wakanda. How she’d dismissed him, told him to leave. After wanting to talk with him for so long she’d been surprised to find how angry she was on seeing him outside on her balcony.

I miss you terribly, Wanda.

I think you should go.

But then he’d asked her if he could explain himself. And his voice had been so small and pleading, she’d almost taken pity on him, but she loathed pity and her frustration held her back. In the end, she agreed to allow him to explain whatever it was he’d come to explain, only if he allowed her to do the same. Of course, he’d agreed and they almost instantly fell back into their old pattern of stories and jokes, and ended up staying up all night talking about what had happened between them.

She told him her grievances about Steve and Tony’s falling out, how she’d missed Vision but was a little upset with him at the same time, and she told him why. She told him about The Raft and going to Clint’s farm and seeing Nathaniel again. Vision listened and told her about how Rhodes was doing and Peter Parker and Tony and Pepper’s engagement.

There were more apologies about the compound and understandings, and it felt so good to have her friend back.

As they talked and lapsed back into the familiar and comfortable cadence of conversation, Wanda realized the thing the two of them had needed most was just a little more time.

She just hoped now that it was on their side.

—

Clint waited on the roof for Vision that night to come retrieve the letter Wanda had written him. He felt a little bit guilty about lying to her and telling her that Vision had asked for him to deliver the letter to avoid suspicion, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to talk with him like he had with Wanda. When the android finally touched down soundlessly on the top of the building, he looked wary to see Clint standing there.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” Clint said when Vision kept his distance. “I just want to talk.”

“You wish to interrogate me,” Vision replied. “You believe I harbor ulterior motives, but I can assure you that’s not the case.”

Clint moved closer so that he was eye-to-eye with Vision.

“You’re right. I’m not sure I’m entirely convinced of your motivations. So, I’m here to say that if you do anything that puts Wanda in a compromising position, I swear I’ll—”

“Wanda is a person with her own agency who is capable of making her own decisions.”

The only thought that raged through Clint’s head was the memory of him fighting Vision while attempting to break Wanda out of the compound.

“Don’t you dare lecture me about agency,” he snarled.

The air crackled with the static that always seemed to accompany tension. He took several steps back and waited for the moment to pass.

Vision was the first to break the silence.

“I understand I have not given you a reason to trust my intentions. Perhaps I never will. But whatever it’s worth, I can assure you I would never do anything to put Wanda in harm’s way.”

Clint, not knowing what else to say, reached into his coat pocket and handed Wanda’s letter to Vision.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said as Vision gingerly lifted the note out of his hand, taking care not to crinkle the paper.

Clint watched Vision step up to the edge of the roof, his yellow cape billowing in the wind.

“You know, in my short time among you I’ve found that humans always have one driving factor that outweighs all others. At first, I didn’t understand, I couldn’t fathom it. But now I believe I’m beginning to.”

With the yellow moon hanging in the sky behind his head like a halo, Clint thought of an angel—capable of so much destruction yet a benevolent and gentle sentinel at the same time. There was still so much he didn’t understand about the synthetic man.

“Glory? Revenge? Ego?” Clint deadpanned.

“Love.”

***

“Your absence has left me…I’m not quite sure how to explain the feeling. I just know that I’ve never felt so…heavy before. It’s odd. I feel heavy and hollow at the same time.”

“What about the time I sent you through the compound floor? You were pretty heavy then.”

She smiles this time, and Vision chuckles. The tension that was there before is gone, and he’s grateful.

Wanda takes a step toward him.

“Vis?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been feeling heavy, too, without you.”

***

Clint could not believe his stroke of good luck. He’d told Wanda one time that Vision had asked him to be a carrier pigeon for her and Vision’s love letters because if she did anything out of the ordinary it would seem “too suspicious”, and now it had gotten him a permanent position. He supposed that’s what he deserved for lying to her.

And for some unfathomable reason that he had still not discovered, he’d agreed to keep helping her when she’d asked him.

He never read the letters (he wasn’t a monster for Christ’s sake), only delivered them to the local post office of whatever town they were staying in as soon as they got there. The rest of the letters would mysteriously show up on his or Wanda’s pillow the following day for as long as they stayed in that location, which was getting shorter and shorter as the months passed.

But being a carrier pigeon soon graduated to covering for Wanda when she snuck out to meet with Vision every once in a while. Some of the excuses she cooked up were so wild he was honestly surprised that no one else had caught on yet.

Wanda’s at the library.

She went to get coffee.

She’s at the park.

The team was now being forced to separate, as it had become too dangerous for them to stay together anymore. Their presence was starting to garner more attention wherever they went, no matter how small the town was. Tomorrow he’d be escorting Wanda to Edinburgh before going back to the farm for a little bit while everyone else dispersed to other parts of the continent before meeting in the city, save for Steve, who was going back to Wakanda to check on Bucky.

Which was how Clint had ended up here, Oceanside at dusk in Wellington, New Zealand, keeping watch for Vision and Wanda, the star-crossed lovers. The two of them were behind a copse of trees on a little concrete bench overlooking the water.

Clint checked his watch. The rest of the team would be coming this way any minute before they headed down to the water to board a ship that would take them to their next destination.

He’d been a little irritated at Wanda for wanting to do this so close to their departure time, but he’d felt himself beginning to cave when her voice adopted that forlorn tone when she’d said “I didn’t get to say goodbye last time.”

“So?” he’d snapped.

Her eyes had flared red, and although Clint would go to his grave denying it, it scared the shit out of him.

“So, what if this is the last time?”

The sound of waves breaking over the shore and being called back to the water brought him back to the present.

“I’ll be in Edinburgh on Tuesday,” he heard Wanda say.

“Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. With every breath that I am worth.”

Clint rolled his eyes so hard he was afraid they were going to get stuck in the back of his head. Seriously, where did the guy come up with this stuff? Did Vision even need to breathe? Clint didn’t know and he didn’t really want to ask.

He remembered once when he’d gone into Wanda’s room to ask her something and she’d been hunched over at her desk, writing a response to one of Vision’s letters where he’d quoted Shakespeare’s Sonnet 29 (“Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising/Haply I think on thee, and then my state/Like to the lark at break of day arising…For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings…”). He had to admit he hadn’t pegged Vision as a romantic, but the android was continually surprising him.

Clint looked back up the road and could see Steve, Natasha, Scott, and Sam coming up over the ridge of the hill they were at the bottom of. He started to whistle the beginning refrain to “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”, Wanda’s cue that they had to leave.

He heard them murmur their goodbyes and the rustling of the branches as Vision vanished. When Wanda joined him back on the road she was wiping a tear from her eye.

“You okay?”

She nodded and sniffed. “Leaving is just always hard.”

Clint glanced back to the rest of their teammates’ fast-approaching figures. He thought about eating breakfast with Laura in the still quiet of the morning, chasing his kids around the property, his whole world safe in one place. He couldn’t imagine how torturous it was for Wanda to have to constantly be coming and going, unsure of if her future with Vision was safe. He knew that at the end of the day his family at least had safety on their side.

Love: the one driving factor that outweighs all others.

The pang that resounded through him almost left him breathless. He knew then that no matter what he told himself or how forcefully, the reason he was doing this for Wanda was tied to the same reason he did everything in his power to protect his family: to have a little slice of home to go to while war raged around them all.

Perhaps he and Vision had more in common than he’d originally thought.

He cleared his throat, hoping Wanda didn’t notice how restricted his voice had suddenly become.

“I know what you mean.”

***

“Vis?”

“Yes?”

“What if we start over? Let’s forget about what happened before. It can be just us. What if we tried that?”

He reaches across the space for her the same time she does, their hands interlacing in the pale Wakandan moonlight. Wanda’s painfully aware that it’s the first time they’ve touched since Vision’s return, and she can feel the violets blooming in her stomach and the roses on her cheeks.

“I’d like that very much.”

***

“You all set?”

“Yes,” Wanda replied. She set her small duffel bag down on the inside of the dingy flat Natasha had found for her in Edinburgh (Clint didn’t think these places got any tinier, but he always still managed to be surprised at the sparse amount of space).

Wanda pulled her coat tighter around her. It was much colder in Scotland than it had been in New Zealand, and the apartment’s heater hadn’t yet kicked in.

“Alright. Steve said he’s gonna do a roll call later tonight,” Clint said, gesturing to the burner phone in Wanda’s hand. “Oh! I almost forgot. I’ve got something for you.”

He rustled around in his coat pocket and procured another letter from Vision for Wanda.

“I found it in my stuff a couple days ago,” he told her. “I’m not sure how old it is.”

Wanda unfolded the paper. “It’s new,” she said, her eyes scanning the lines of the page hungrily. “I think he’s already here in the city.”

Clint noticed the time and sighed. He was a little anxious at the thought of leaving Wanda here alone, even if just for a few days until Natasha, Sam, and Steve got into town. But he couldn’t stop the excitement that bubbled up inside him when he thought about how he would be with his family again in the next few hours.  

“I hate to do this, but I gotta go. If there’s any trouble, let me know ASAP. And if Vision gives you any problems—”

Wanda began playfully shoving him toward the door. “We are not having that conversation.”

On an impulse, Clint engulfed Wanda in a quick bear hug, and she returned the gesture.

He remembered how she always talked about choices and how deliberate and thoughtful she was with the ones she made. He knew that no matter what happened, he was glad he’d been able to choose to give Wanda back the happiness she deserved. The past few months he’d been relieved to see her finally laugh and smile again (and hum, which Clint never would’ve expected from her). She’d come a long way from that scared girl living in Sokovia.

He wouldn’t trade his choice for the world, and he knew Wanda wouldn’t trade any of hers, either. He just hoped that it could stay that way for her as long as possible.

“See you around,” he said, opening the door. “Don’t talk to strangers, don’t skip curfew, don’t have any fun.”

“I won’t.”

Clint picked up his own bag and was almost around the corner of the doorjamb when Wanda stepped forward.

“Clint?”

He looked back at her, not knowing the next time he saw her it would be under much more dire circumstances. “Yep?”

“Thank you,” she said. She held up Vision’s letter in her hand. “For everything.”

—

After Clint left, Wanda began to unpack. But she soon became unable to bear the quiet flat on her own, so she sat down at the table and closed her eyes, reaching out across time and space until she found the calm, quiet mind she was looking for.

Come find me.

She sensed him in the hallway a few moments later before he phased through the wall. They grinned at each other, and Wanda crossed the room in two quick strides and pulled Vision close. He returned the hug with equal fervor, glad to have Wanda in his arms again.

“How were your travels?”

“Awful,” Wanda said. “Scott Lang is the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

Vision listened as she prattled on about the journey and moved about the small space as she unpacked. She told him about the cramped boats they had spent days on before arriving at a port in Scotland, the crude stories Natasha and Sam would tell that she neither understood nor found funny, and the strange, intrusive questions that Scott Lang asked her (“So can you, like, see the future? Have you ever thought about just wiping everyone’s memories so that they think we’re war heroes or something? Could you sign something for my daughter? She absolutely loves you!”).

“I’ve never been so happy to see land before,” she laughed. She placed the last of her clothes inside the closet and sat down on the dusty mattress.

“You do seem very happy,” Vision remarked, joining her.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He instantly became flustered, his lips downturned. Wanda could see his eyes whirring, wondering what mistake had been made by what he’d just said.

“I didn’t mean—I just thought you would be more upset, what with Clint leaving and being on your own—”

She giggled and placed a hand on top of his, squeezing them reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Vis, I’m only teasing,” she said. “I guess I’m a little sad…I’m mostly relieved that we finally get to have some peace and quiet.”

Vision smiled at that. “Yes, it will be nice.”

“It’s just…” she looked at him, then around the confined, filthy flat. Would there ever be a chance for them to be normal?

She knew their circumstances were anything but, yet she still wished for a regular morning back at the compound where there was no threat looming over them, or for an evening out where she wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder.

Everything was all so complicated now, and she hated it. But then again, she couldn’t really blame anyone but herself, could she? She couldn’t take back her choices now. She would just have to resign herself to living one good, blissful moment with Vision to the next and force herself to survive all of the terrible parts in between.

“Just what?” Vision asked, cutting off her train of thought.

He had started fiddling with the ends of her hair, and it took her a moment to think of what she’d been about to say.

“It all just seems too good to be true,” she said. “You and me, here alone. Maybe I’ve been on the run for too long, but I just can’t help but think something bad is going to happen.”

“The probability of something disastrous happening when we meet has always been high,” Vision said, tucking a piece of Wanda’s hair behind her ear. “But that’s never stopped us before.”

“And I won’t let it stop us, either.”

“I know,” he said. “We’ll just have to make the most of our time together.”

The tender expression on Vision’s face calmed Wanda. They’d made it this far, and as long as he was sure they could handle whatever was thrown at them next, she would be, too. The world began to fade as the two leaned into each other, their lips almost touching.

The sharp ring of the burner phone sounding throughout the room startled both of them.

“It’s just Steve,” she murmured, extricating her shaking hands from his.

The phone rang again, the small device vibrating violently against the wooden kitchen table in the middle of the room. Wanda grabbed it and flipped it open.

“Wanda?” came Steve’s voice on the other line.

“It’s me.”

“Good. Everything okay over there?”

She turned back to look at Vision, trying to slow the pounding rhythm of her heart.

He was the choice she had not expected herself to make, yet it felt like the one she was always meant to from the moment he’d lifted her out of Novi Grad. The one who’d found her again, and always would, no matter how far apart they were.

“Yep,” Wanda replied. “Everything’s perfect.”

Steve started on the instructions for tomorrow’s phone call and the plan for the coming days, but Wanda was only half listening, lost in thought about the not-so-synthetic man sitting in front of her. Her one constant in the storm.

Vision noticed her staring and smiled.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Steve said, ending the call.

You’re the best choice I’ve ever made, Vis, she thought as she hung up and rejoined him once more.

***

“Do you remember one of our first conversations? About choices?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I said there was a logical pattern. That good choices lead you to be good and bad choices lead you to be bad.”

“I remember I told you it wasn’t that simple.”

“I believe I understand that now.”

“And do you regret them? Your choices?”

“Not at all. They’ve led me to you.”

***

[earpdearp]

not just a sister

Wherein Waverly (with help from Wynonna) chases down a missing Willa. On top of being super frickin’ exhausted and processing a lot of complicated frickin’ emotions, Waverly gets shot when the Homestead is attacked. And has to tell an already-worried Nicole about it. 

Takes place in 1x11. Utilizes Road to Purgatory content for flavor. 

Trigger warning for abuse mentions of Waverly’s history with Willa/Ward. Also describes Waverly dealing with getting shot. Also on AO3. Approximately 7,847 words.

Other WayHaught “not just friends” fics in this series: not just any first date | not just a secret | not just heavenly | not just a long day | not just best friends

“Oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh—“

Waverly had been muttering the same phrase under her breath for the past three hours. First while freezing cold running around the Homestead, then freezing cold driving around the Homestead.

It was an ungodly hour of the night and Waverly’s nerves were shot. She was perpetually hovering on the verge of tears/panic, but couldn’t bear the thought of returning to the Homestead even to check her phone. She didn’t want to have to face telling anyone the truth.

She had lost Willa.

Their big sister, back from the dead. A brainwashed cult victim struggling to remember who she was… and Waverly had driven her away.

It had been an accident. An awkward conversation gone awry.

Her intentions had been good. Waverly gritted her teeth and tried to do what Nicole had suggested.

“Try talking to Willa. Get to know her, maybe? Or at least let her know you?”

So Waverly had brought out her memory box… well, one of them. She had one for Momma, one for Daddy and one for Willa (Momma’s was the smallest). Pictures, newspaper clippings, ribbons and some toys of Willa’s. It had also once held Willa’s necklace: a green crescent moon on a gold chain. …But that was in the hands of Bobo Del Rey now.

They had sat together on Willa’s bed and gone through some of them, mostly the pictures. Willa had been oddly fascinated with the copy of her death certificate and asked about her own funeral. Waverly offered up the program as well, a small folded paper with a faded picture of a 13-year-old girl on the front.

Those funerals were one of Waverly’s few vivid, early memories. She had hoped the story would make Willa happy(? In a way?), though it hadn’t turned out that way.

“I saw the little white coffin but I knew you weren’t actually in there,” Waverly had said, the memory almost foreign in her mind. It had been surreal for a six-year-old, like someone was playing a game she didn’t understand. “They’d filled it with sandbags.”

“Was it a nice service?” Willa seemed genuinely curious, her face soft.

“All I remember was…” Waverly paused to reflect. Aunt Gus came to mind, as did Uncle Curtis, their faces contorted in despair as they held each other. “…a lot of crying.”

Something else came to mind, which made a sad smile pull Waverly’s cheek. “And the food. The grown-ups let me eat as maaany marshmallows as I wanted.” Ugh. “…I threw up all night long.”

A sad sigh was heavy in Waverly’s chest. She’d tried to dull the pain that day with marshmallows and it had gone terribly.

Willa’s voice pulled Waverly out of her thoughts, soft and scathing and cold. “Gee. That must have been so hard for you.”

The rebuke awoke a fluttering in Waverly’s chest, dormant for so many years. An anxiety that had been sitting just under the surface since last night. She felt an immediate need to please, to undo it, to make Willa just understand that was not what she’d meant. Waverly’s shoulders tensed and a breath caught in her throat.

“…I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s really intense. You guys killed me,” Willa intoned almost emotionlessly, like she didn’t really mean it. She tilted her head at Waverly. “What did you bury in Daddy’s coffin?”

Waverly had inhaled deeply before answering. “…Daddy.” A pair of tears sitting just on top of her eyes threatened to spill over.

There was a pause as Willa closed her eyes, her expression briefly tortured. She started to sway forward on the bed, a breath catching in her throat.

As Waverly asked if Willa remembered something, Willa had reached out to steady herself on Waverly’s shoulder. Except that fluttering anxiety made Waverly pull away, those tears trickling down her cheek. She flinched at Willa’s touch… and Willa had definitely noticed.

“Are you scared of me?” The woman’s face contorted amid a mixture of emotions. First confusion, then a cold sneer, then begrudging acceptance. With that, Willa pushed off the bed and took off down the hall.

Still sitting, Waverly was too stunned to move. She mentally kicked herself for her lack of reaction… mostly because the answer was “Yes.”

“Yes, Willa. I’m scared of you. I’ve always been scared of you.”

How could she say that? That was worse than saying nothing.

The slam of the front door roused Waverly from her brief brooding.

She couldn’t have—did Willa just—?

“Oh balls!”

She couldn’t take it back, so all she could do was make it right. Waverly finally gave chase, but the front porch light was too dim. She couldn’t tell what direction the woman had gone. A pair of snowy tracks led straight out from the Homestead, but beyond that?

Oh balls.

For the next couple of hours, Waverly had hit every single hiding spot on the Homestead and surrounding land five times, calling Willa’s name the whole time. The barn, the pond, the pet cemetery, the wood shed, the grove, the border fence, the fallow field on the other side… not a sign of Willa.

Not that Waverly was much of a tracker in the first place.

God, I wish Doc were still here.

He’s probably halfway to Alaska by now. …the big dummy.

It was close to four in the morning by the time Waverly finally went home. The nap at Nicole’s earlier was the only reason Waverly wasn’t dead on her feet. She was both angry and relieved to find Wynonna still wasn’t back yet, though it didn’t change the ugly, gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She was dismayed to find her phone was dead, but Waverly was too tired and upset to deal with it. After throwing it on the charger, she collapsed face-first onto her bed and fell asleep immediately.

Waverly awoke a few hours later to Wynonna pulling on her ankle and hissing in her ear. “Hey! Hey Waverly! What the shit? Where’s Willa?”

Oh shitballs.

Groaning into her pillow, Waverly told Wynonna the whole story. Her sister took it surprisingly well. All Wynonna did was tilt her head back, swear at the ceiling, sigh loudly, then yank Waverly’s ankle again.

“I’ll make coffee. You get your ass in the shower. Then we go find her. …Also, you’re buying donuts.”

Oh God, Waverly was so tired. She toweled off her hair with her eyes closed, her eyelids impossibly heavy and grainy after such a long, stressful night.

The past week—two weeks—month?—had felt like an eternity. There was just this exhausted twinge in her shoulders and back, and every yawn reverberated through Waverly’s jaw and into her chest. A dry, stinging pain had taken up residence in her eyes and a dull headache sat at her temples.

The only saving grace to the nonstop Revenant shit-show (and now Willa shit-show) had been her brief reprieves spent with Nicole.

…Oh shit! Nicole!

Reaching for the phone on the nightstand (glowing with 100% battery life again), Waverly counted six missed calls and four missed texts.

[Waverly says: “She tried to touch me and I accidentally flinched. She freaked out and ran”]

[Nicole says: “I’m so sorry, Waverly”] (Read: 11:17 PM)

[Nicole says: “Are you doing okay? Did you make up with Willa?”] (12:09 AM)

[Nicole says: “I’m still at the Poker Spectacular, but I could come by after?”] (1:42 AM)

[Nicole says: “Did you find her? Call me when you get a chance”] (2:26 AM)

[Nicole says: “Hey Wave, just seeing how you’re doing? I’ll catch you in the morning?”] (3:14 AM)

A couple of voicemails echoed these thoughts, mostly Nicole’s uncertainty if Waverly wanted her to come by to help or not. And that she was keeping her phone close by in case Waverly needed her.

She’s just the best, Waverly sighed before tapping out a response. She desperately wanted to call, but not with Wynonna listening in.

[Waverly says: “Oh God, I lost Willa”]

[Waverly says: “And I’m so sorry!!!  my phone died and i was out all night looking and”]

[Waverly says: “Wynonna’s back and we’re gonna go look now”]

[Waverly says: “I’m so so sorry if i worried you!”]

[Waverly says: “I hope you had a good night at the poker thing!”]

[Waverly says: “I can’t talk right now but I’ll call you later! Promise!! And you can tell me about the Poker Sspectacular”]

She sent a kiss emoji for good measure in the hopes it would seem reassuring.

A “…” appeared almost immediately. Her phone vibrated with Nicole’s responses.

[Nicole says: “Okay. I’m off today so let me know if there’s anything I can do to help”]

[Nicole says: “I’m here for you, Waves. Whatever you need”]

A pair of hearts followed that final text, which Waverly repeated back.

Just the best.

Wynonna and Waverly parked at one end of the short Purgatory downtown and made a plan to divide and conquer. Wynonna took one side of the street, Waverly the other. They’d meet at the next block. Keep phones close. Go Team Earp.

A quick circuit of the grocery store was Waverly’s first target, though it was made unnecessarily long because of all the Purgatorians wanting to stop and chat. Mostly to ask how she was doing and how much they missed her face behind the counter at Shorty’s.

“Oh, uh, yea. New management and all. And I was thinking about—um—applying to grad school,” Waverly had deflected as her eyes skimmed the aisles.

A chorus of “Good for you, Waverly”s mixed with “Oh, you’re not leaving, are you”s were muttered along with well-wishes.

One older woman even expressed her condolences that Gus was leaving in the form of an odd platitude: “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, but sometimes He is telling us to find a new place to handle it.” Waverly wasn’t sure if she was supposed to agree or be grateful for that sentiment, and instead opted to give Mrs. Brimley what she hoped was a thoughtful smile.

It all might have been touching if Waverly didn’t have a missing sister to find. She escaped the grocery store and exchanged a head shake with Wynonna who had just exited the liquor store across the street (a distinct brown bag tucked into a jacket pocket).

God Damn it, Wynonna. At a time like this?

…what better time to start drinking, actually? Maybe I should pick something up.

I’d probably fall asleep.

The older Earp nodded her head at the diner while Waverly gestured towards the pawn shop next door.

Oh God… the pawn shop.

The shop was just as cramped as it always was. Flickering fluorescent lighting, an odd leather and mildew smell, all crowded together in cramped aisles with poorly organized shelves.

If you knew where to look, there was still some evidence the pawn shop had been the site of a hostage stand-off only a few months ago. A hole in the wall a trio of Revenants had torn through was haphazardly patched with cinder blocks and a shelf stacked with trucker hats.

A dark stain on the floor still lingered near a center aisle… Shorty’s blood.

Sighing, Waverly quickly glanced down the remaining five short rows. Only a pair of patrons were in the pawn shop, neither of them a young (probably angry) woman. Those two older men were haggling over a pair of antique shotguns with the grizzled owner and paid her no mind.

Waverly didn’t want to linger here any longer than she had to. That anxious feeling in her chest was starting to fray around the edges from stress/exhaustion. She just felt so tired. Before she had just been tired of the Earp Curse, but now it was a different kind of tired. She was tired of saying and doing the wrong thing.  

Losing Willa had been bad enough, but finding Willa again? That inevitability almost felt worse (and made Waverly feel terrible about feeling that way, creating a cycle of guilt). And now, piled on top of all that, was a pang of longing for how much Waverly missed Shorty. How much she missed her old life before Shorty had died, before Gus was leaving, before Willa had come back.

What about before Wynonna came back? …no. I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

Before Nicole? …definitely not. Nicole is my best—well, she’s the best.

Waverly had a vague memory of being in this shop as a child with her father and sisters. She remembered Willa begging Daddy for a guitar she’d seen in the window. 12-year-old Willa wanted to learn to play while Daddy disagreed because she needed to focus. Wynonna had been fascinated by a wall of various military knives (just what every 10-year-old girl needed).

A 5-year-old Waverly had spent the entire visit with her face pressed against the jewelry case. She loved jewelry (still did, as evidenced by her large collection of earrings, necklaces and bangle bracelets). Little Waverly had wanted a pretty ring like Momma or a pretty necklace like Willa. She didn’t get one that day. Instead, Willa got a new switchblade.

…Willa… Willa’s necklace…

Ugh. Stupid Bobo.

Waverly had the faintest of hopes that maybe—maybe—Bobo had hocked the small crescent moon at the pawn shop. She made her way over to the glass case opposite the gun racks. But a quick skim of the low shelves revealed no familiar gold chain or green medallion.

Which means he’s keeping it as a trophy. Gross.

She almost slammed a fist against the glass counter but stopped herself (and pounded the top of her fist on her thigh instead). Yet another thing that wasn’t going right.

Turning on her heel, a different display caught Waverly’s eye. Not the necklaces, but the trays of rings. There, in a recessed box, were a pair of matching gold rings with tiny green jewels at their centers.

The elderly pawn dealer, finished with the two men, smiled at Waverly. He called over to her as he slid along the opposite side of the counter. “Find somethin’ you like, darlin’?”

She checked her watch. Surely Waverly could spare a minute. Willa had been gone all damn night, after all.

And Wynonna had stopped for booze.

Gesturing to the two rings, Waverly asked to see. Something about them spoke to her. They were simple, lovely, sweet.

The man, Ernest, pulled on a pair of half-moon spectacles hanging from a black cord on his neck. Blinking, he pulled out the box and examined the rings. He recalled a Navajo artist who used to come to the Ghost River Triangle and sell her jewelry at the county fairs. A small hand-inscribed card indicated these were “Lucky Stones” that could “bring peace and balance.” To exchange rings of green jade was to “heal the wearer and purify your energy field with loving acceptance.”

Ernie winked at Waverly as he slipped his glasses off. “I don’t know about all that, but they are fourteen carat gold.” He quoted her a price.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Waverly had pulled out a credit card. Even Ernest seemed taken aback, but he accepted her card and hustled over to the register. “Got someone in mind for one of these?”

“I think I do,” Waverly smiled back.

Waverly tucked the small box into a pocket of her brown quilted coat and quickly headed back outside. 

Waiting at the intersection was a still-scowling Wynonna, hand slipping an opened bottle back into her puffy black jacket. Waverly met Wynonna in front of a florist and they walked down the street together, eyes peeled for Willa.

Wynonna kicked at the ground with her boots, frustration raw in her voice. “What were you thinking, showing Willa her own scrapbook of death??”

Waverly balked at the accusation. “Wha—She was curious! Wouldn’t you be curious?”

“Well, it freaked her out!” Wynonna snapped back, eyebrows arching.

All Waverly could do was sheepishly mumble. “…yea, more like pissed her off.” She scanned the few people out and about down the street. Still no Willa.

“I wish Doc were here.”

When Waverly shot her a glare, Wynonna begrudgingly clarified. “He bailed on me… on us. …But he’s a hell of a tracker.”

“Yea, good point,” Waverly admitted. She felt that pang of frustration again. “How are we gonna find a girl we know nothing about?”

Waverly had spent most of the night trying to find the sister she thought she knew, but that was her first mistake: this wasn’t their Willa.

Glancing over at her sister, Waverly was confused when she saw Wynonna looking past her. A turn of Waverly’s head revealed a large yellow flier taped to the lamppost. It was an advertisement for half priced drinks at Shorty’s-slash-Bobo’s.

Ugh.

Wynonna growled with disdain. “What is that musk-ox playing at?” Her eyes suddenly lit up with realization. “Hey! …you think?”

It took Waverly another second to figure out what Wynonna was getting at.

“She is an Earp,” Waverly agreed with a nod.

Eyes widening in almost-panic, Wynonna smiled slightly. “Bet she drinks ‘em dry in 20 minutes.”

Waverly sighed loudly. “Come on.”

Willa was indeed hiding out at Shorty’s/Bobo’s trying out various beers and liquors. Waverly had been apprehensive about confronting her sister again, but this time Wynonna patted her arm and stepped up. Instead, Waverly had run back to get her Jeep to take them home.

She relished the excused to retreat, honestly. There was something about Willa that reminded Waverly of Daddy (and not just because of the cold, coiled way she drank, like she was half-asleep but could fly into a rage at any moment). 

That last thing Waverly had heard over her shoulder before exiting the bar was a glass slamming down.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wynonna had said in a hushed voice.

And again that cold, accusing voice of Willa’s. “And you shouldn’t have shot our daddy.”

A shudder crawled down Waverly’s spine as she jogged down the block to her car. It was the same feeling from last night, a sense of smallness in Willa’s cold presence. Wrapped in that smallness was that familiar, irrational desire to please, to make Willa understand what was going on.

Hopefully Wynonna would have better luck than Waverly did.

Climbing into her Jeep, Waverly slammed the door and savored the quiet for a moment. Unfortunately, along with that peace crept in the exhaustion she’d been keeping at bay with coffee and a prayer. She took a few deep breaths and shook it out of her shoulders before turning the ignition and cruising over to the alley behind Shorty’s.

Waverly idled there and lolled her head against the head rest for a minute before pulling out her phone. Her thumbs tapped out a quick message.

[Waverly says: “Found Willa drinking at Bobo’s. Waiting on Wynonna to pick her up now”]

Closing her eyes, Waverly rested her forehead against the cool steering wheel and let the heat warm her toes. A text message chime brought her head back up.

[Nicole says: “That should surprise me but it doesn’t”]

Waverly snickered and gave an assenting nod to herself.

[Waverly says: “That’s fair”]

[Waverly says: “Remember the days when we could go 5 mins without drama?”]

[Nicole says: “No drama? In what Purgatory do you live in? Mine is chock full of drama :P”]

[Waverly says: “Lol true enough”]

[Waverly says: “I miss you. Having a good day?”]

[Nicole says: “Miss you too. And it’s been good. Pretty quiet”]

[Waverly says: “How’s my little foot warmer?”]

A long pause. This time, a SnapChat pinged back with a picture of Calamity Jane curled up on Waverly’s blanket draped over the couch. The text caption read “I can’t tell if she misses you or just really likes your blanket.”

[Waverly says: “Aww!! Obvs she misses ME”]

[Nicole says: “Lol totes obvs”]

The sound of glass shattering roused Waverly from her blissful few minutes talking to Nicole.

Oh God… Wynonna.

Or Willa.

Leaving her Jeep idling with steam clouding around the tailpipe, Waverly threw open the car door and headed in through the side entrance. She was just in time to see a Revenant screaming in agony as he was dragged down to hell in flames.

Yes!

…No! Wait! Bad! That’s bad!

Glancing over, it was Willa staring down the end of Peacemaker in her hand.

Oh God. It is true. She’s the real Earp Heir.

The bar was descending into chaos (though over the gunshot or the Revenant-sent-back-to-hell, it was hard to tell which). Stools were kicked away as bikers backed off, some with glowing red eyes. Waverly shouted at her sister and waved them over to the back entrance. “Wynonna!!”

Wynonna gave a nod before she started arguing with Willa. Waverly didn’t stay to watch, she just ran at full speed back to her Jeep and maneuvered it as close to that door as possible. Her heart was pounding in fear, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

Oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh balls oh—What if something happened? What if a Revenant comes out that door? What if Bobo comes out that door? What if Wynonna got hurt? Or Willa? Or a regular person? What if they lose Peacemaker in the confusion? What if—

The side door flew open to reveal: Wynonna! With Willa right behind her!

Oh thank God.

Waverly waved them into her car, keeping her eyes peeled in case any Revenants followed.

“That was amazing!” Willa exclaimed breathlessly as she crawled into the backseat.

Jumping into the passenger seat, Wynonna shouted in agreement before shooting Waverly an uncertain look. “…Dolls is gonna kill us!”

The drive back was awkward. Waverly was quietly miserable the entire time, her eyes on the road. Wynonna and Willa were only talking to each other, gushing over what a rush that fight was. Wynonna was also listing off some of the Revenants she’d killed since returning to Purgatory.

It was just—Waverly didn’t know what to say. She felt like she should apologize to Willa, but just not why. Plus, it felt like it would ruin the banter Willa and Wynonna were sharing—like it would bring down the moment or something.

Ugh.

What Waverly really wanted to do was have a damn second to herself to call Nicole. She found herself needing to hear a friendly voice.

Finally arriving back at the Homestead, Waverly saw Dolls’ black SUV parked in the long driveway. Oddly, she was relieved by the thought of his presence (in spite how pissed he’d probably be about shooting Revenants in broad daylight at Shorty’s/Bobo’s). Maybe he would know what to do about Willa? Or at least yell some sense into her? Maybe?

The stern military operative greeted them at the door, though Waverly slunk past while mumbling about putting on a kettle for tea.

Safe in the kitchen, away from everyone, Waverly allowed herself a deep breath. That was about all the time it took before the shouting started (instigated by Willa). Busying herself with dragging the metal pot from under the cabinet and filling it with tap water, Waverly could only sigh.

Willa was doing an impressive impersonation of Daddy as she admonished Dolls about the Earp Curse. How he wasn’t one of us. Dolls growled back about civilians. Waverly dug around in the pantry to look for tea while Will and Dolls screamed about nukes and instincts.

The sound of a chair being kicked and a door slamming made Waverly flinch.

This whole day had been doing a bang-up job reproducing memories of Waverly’s childhood she’d tried really hard to forget. Right down to Wynonna running away from everything. Oh God, how Waverly wanted to go with Wynonna this time. But, like when they were kids, it was Willa who took command while Waverly hid away.

“I’m her sister. I got it,” Willa said as she brushed Dolls aside and headed outside. To the barn, probably. It was the only real place to go at the Homestead for privacy (hence why Waverly had claimed a Spot at the Reservoir as far from home as possible).

That constant, exhausted shiver in Waverly’s shoulders was accompanied by a hollow ache in her chest. Just an overwhelming sense of feeling out of place… that she didn’t belong here.

Grasping for her phone, Waverly craved some human contact. But Dolls was right there, damn it. Can’t she get some frickin’ peace and quiet in her own frickin’ house? She settled for yet another text.

[Waverly says: “Sooo they kind of started a bar fight”]

[Nicole says: “Are you okay??”]

[Waverly says: “Oh I’m fine, I was outside. Wy and Willa probably kicked some ass tho”]

[Nicole says: “You Earps, I swear to god ;)”]

…Us Earps, indeed…

That’s right. I’m a frickin’ Earp and Wynonna is my frickin’ sister, too.

Inhaling a deep breath, Waverly squared her shoulders and pulled the whistling kettle off the stove. She strode past Dolls lurking in the living room to the front door and pulled it open.

The afternoon chill on the Homestead was biting, even with the sun so high. The surrounding snow was piled deep and in no immediate hurry to melt. Two pairs of footprints angled away from the sets around the porch and led to a large barn looming nearby.

Waverly would talk to Wynonna, too. She had been there for her sister the past few months, dealing with all the Earp Curse shit together. They would get through it. Together.

Except… not together.

Waverly had slipped into that barn to the sound of laughter. Willa and Wynonna, sharing a memory.

“We were two peas, you and I,” Willa said. “It’s always been you and I.”

No, not always. What about me?

Eyes glassy with tears, Wynonna cheek twitched fondly. “Yeah. I remember.”

Leaning in, Willa’s smile was warm with promise. “It can be like it always was. And different, too. In all the right ways. You’re not alone anymore.”

“Anymore.”

“Anymore??”

Say something, Wynonna. You weren’t alone. You had me. For 15 years we’ve had each other.

Remember?

Say something.

Say something!!

But she didn’t. Wynonna just sighed and let Willa—Willa—hug her. Comfort her.

This time when Waverly took a deep breath, she didn’t feel better. She felt empty. Alone.

Slipping back out the barn, a cold breeze stung Waverly’s eyes (and lungs with each shallow breath). It was her turn to want to run as far away as possible. A few (dozen) drinks at Shorty’s—Bobo’s—sounded really good right now. Too bad someone had started a bar fight and killed a frickin’ Revenant in broad daylight.

It was just like being a little kid again. Willa and Wynonna together always with no room for Waverly. That was always clear. She wasn’t wanted.

What if—what if they didn’t need her anymore? To help break the curse? She was third in line to be Heir (again). What did she have to offer?

Willa had Daddy’s training. Wynonna had been around the world and killed a bunch of Revenants already. And Waverly? They had her research. Her contribution was pinned to a board or piled into neat stacks at the BBD office. She might as well not even be there.

Waverly returned to the kitchen and made tea in bitter silence. She brought an additional cup over to Dolls, who was zoned out at the kitchen table staring at his cell phone.

“You’re quiet,” Waverly remarked, retreating to her old standby: polite small talk.

The Deputy Marshall actually smiled back as his fingers spun the teacup on the round table. “Yea, I’m just thinking. There’s a lot going on right now that just doesn’t add up.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Dolls scratched at the close-cropped hair on the top of his head. “Like, if Cryderman is dirty: that means someone is feeding him some BBD intel.”

“Someone we know? Or someone you work for?” Waverly asked.

The significance of the conversation wasn’t lost on her: if he suspected her, he wouldn’t be telling her. That meant Dolls trusted Waverly.

At least—at least someone does.

“I don’t know. Black Badge isn’t just a—a job for me,” Dolls admitted with a sheepish grin.

A bitter sigh of a laugh caught in Waverly’s throat. “Yea, no kidding.” She smiled at Dolls what she hoped was encouragement. “I get it. Feeling like you’re about to lose something…”

…Or everything…

The man adjusted in his chair and leaned forward, elbows on the table. His voice softened to an almost-whisper. “It’s okay if you don’t like her, you know.”

That struck a defensive chord. But this time, Waverly could actually try to explain to someone else who might listen. “I’m happy she’s back. I really am. It’s just—I never really knew her, y’know? …still don’t.”

Dolls peered at her with intensity. He promised, “We’ll get to the bottom of it, alright?”

“We.”

Right.

What “we?” Two Earp Heirs, a Deputy Marshall, and the little sister no one remembers exists?

Right.

Deflecting, Waverly smiled politely and took a sip of her tea. “Yea, I’m sure you will.”

“All of us,” Dolls corrected, his dark eyes holding hers significantly. He nodded his head slowly. “You’re good at what you do.” Smiling, he then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how many Willas come back. Doesn’t.” His hand slapped the table as he leaned back in his chair. “We’re still gonna need you, Earp.”

…Earp…

“You called me Earp,” Waverly echoed, her cheeks suddenly hurting from a pleased smile.

The sullen man brushed it off with a grin. “Yea, I did. Don’t let it go to your head.” But there was a twinkle in Dolls’ eye. He sobered before asking, “…There’s only three of you, right?”

Waverly laughed for real this time. The first time all day.

And then everything went batshit insane. The next few minutes were a total blur of noise, acrid smoke, and pumping adrenaline.

Broken windows, smoke bombs(!), popping gunfire, Dolls shouting orders, and then just crawling. Waverly squealed out blasphemies and curses as she crawled through the Homestead, lamps shattering and wood splintering all around and above her.

She remembered grabbing her shotgun from the kitchen table, the popping still echoing around her. There was a feeling of resentment at Dolls wanting her to hide in the basement while she clutched her shotgun. Bowls, apples, the teacups, everything was just exploding into bits around her as she hid behind the kitchen cabinets and waited for an opening.

That resentment boiled over into white-hot rage. This whole day—week—month—had just been too God Damn much and Waverly was God Damn sick and tired of it. If it wasn’t Revenants, it was witches or zombies or a long-lost sister and now assholes with guns and—you know what?!

“Eat shit, shit-eaters!” Waverly shouted as she unloaded her Winchester into the nearest Asshole in snow camo wielding an assault rifle. But the man, hunkered behind a woodpile, recovered and aimed back at her.

Waverly’s rage was immediately replaced by agony as she landed hard on her knees. Her whole right side radiated with a sharp pain that made it hard to breathe. Clutching her side, Waverly’s fingertips came back crimson with blood. She managed to stand and tried to walk over to the dining room as she heard her sisters’ voices at the front door, alive and angry.

Nope. Nope. She couldn’t do it. Waverly took a few steps forward, trying to hold the pain in. But it was too much. “Uh, guys? I think I got a little bit shot.” And with that, Waverly collapsed to the floor.

Willa’s angry shouting was hard to make out in the background. But Wynonna’s worried face swam in Waverly’s vision, calling her name and telling her it was going to be okay.

Oh God oh God oh God it hurts it hurts it hurts

“It’s just a graze,” Dolls informed her as he pulled back part of her sweater caked in blood. His probing fingertips made her hiss in pain.

“’Just??’” Waverly quipped back, her breathing getting shallow as she struggled not to hyperventilate.

Wynonna’s head snapped up at the front door slamming. “Shit! Willa!” The panic in Wynonna’s face made Waverly grip her sister’s wrist.

God damn it.

“Go,” Waverly said with a shaky nod. “We can’t lose her again.” She shouted “Go!” again and pushed Wynonna away.

A pattering of gunfire sprang Wynonna into action. She slapped Dolls on the shoulder and said softly, “Take care of her.”

Then everything swam for a bit.

Oh God, how it hurt.

Dolls was there, whispering reassurances. There was a hard pressure against her ribs that just pushed all the pain inward. She remembered muttering “Oh God” a lot and whimpering. All Waverly could do was whimper. There was so much blood and her head hurt along with her side. It was just dizzy, aching misery that seemed to last forever.

Waverly was just so so tired. She probably would have passed out already if the pain hadn’t been so sharp and reverberated all the way into her teeth.

She remembered asking Dolls if she should go to the hospital. “For stitches? Or something?”

“Hospitals are gonna ask a lot of questions,” Dolls reminded her as he helped her into a chair at their now-splintered kitchen table. Pock marks of bullet holes covered the wooden surface. Packing the wound with gauze and taping over it, Dolls said, “You’re gonna be okay. Keep pressure on it and the wrap clean and it’ll be okay.”

A second later, his phone rang. Wynonna. Both sisters were safe and so was the Homestead.

Crouching on the floor next to Waverly, Dolls examined the wound before nodding, satisfied with his triage. He then slung an arm under her shoulders to get her to a comfortable position on the couch. “Get some rest, then I’ll go check the perimeter.”

His hand covering her wrist, Dolls smiled. “You did good, Earp.”

After the door slammed shut behind him, Waverly was struck with how oddly quiet the Homestead was. For the first time since early this morning (minus her screaming “Willa!!” every 10 seconds or so), the Homestead was still.

Waverly didn’t want to be alone or “get some rest.” She felt around in her pockets, a section of her pants already stiff from dried blood. But she found her cell phone, undamaged from the attack.

An unread text from Nicole sat on the screen.

[Nicole says: “Hope you and your sisters are getting along okay”]

Oh God. Nicole.

Waverly glanced down her herself, her white sweater tattered and spackled with blood. Even worse was the rest of the living room. Windows shattered, bullet holes riddled in every surface, tufts of fluff wafted in the air from the couch and chairs. The living room and kitchen were both a literal wreck.

I can’t hide this from her.

But how do I explain this?

I’m just so tired. Tired of keeping everything in. I just… need to talk to someone.

Waverly’s finger found Nicole’s number before she could even stop herself. She winced as she switched hands to hold the phone to her left ear. Elbow akimbo and sticking off the sofa, Waverly’s right hand pressed as best it could against the bullet wound to keep the pressure on.

Bullet wound. I was shot. Oh God I got shot.

On the third ring, a warm voice answered.

[“Hey you!”]

Sighing with relief, Waverly struggled to find words. “Hey, I—I just—I was just—“

Keep it together, Earp.

The warmth chilled to worry. [“Waverly. What’s wrong?”]

There was a fluttering panic in Waverly’s throat at how terrible an idea this was and how close she was to just bursting into tears. But she was just so tired. Tired of holding everything in.

“So, I—I need to tell you something, Nicole. You have to—have to promise not to freak out…”

Oh good one. Now she probably thinks I’m breaking up with her.

[“Okayyyyy…”] Nicole sounded skeptical but played along.

“So there was—there was kind of a thing… at the Homestead…”

[“What kind of thing? A party? …A house party with psychos? You promised I was invited to the next one!”] Nicole started off serious but devolved into teasing. There was still a strain in her voice, though.

Waverly stared up at the ceiling and tried to gather her thoughts. “Um… sort of? No, that’s not it. Look, so I’m okay and Wynonna is okay and Willa is back—she’s okay, too—and Dolls is okay. We just—there were people… and they, uh… So Dolls and Wynonna and Willa took care of it and everything is okay but—“

[“Waverly.”] Nicole interrupted. [“You’ve said ‘okay’ like five times. Something that ‘okay’ usually means it isn’t. Please. What’s going on?”]

Sighing, Waverly muttered into her phone. “The Homestead was attacked.”

[“What??? What do you mean attacked?!”]

“We’re okay! Some sort of—I don’t know… government turf war? I don’t know. But Dolls and Wynonna took care of them—it.”

[“Did you call the police??”]

“No! No… we can’t, Nicole. There could be something—someone—dirty. We don’t know who. We gotta take care of it ourselves.” Waverly chewed her cheek and tried to suppress a groan. She had shifted her torso slightly and was rewarded with another sharp pain.

Oh God, what if it could be Nicole?

…really??

There was a long pause at the other end before Nicole sighed. [“…okay. I mean, I don’t like it, but I get it. As long as you’re safe…”]

Adjusting her right hand, Waverly noticed her fingers were starting to feel damp. She raised her hand above her eyes and took note of the smear of red across them before tucking the hand back at her side. This time, she did groan. “Uh… well…”

[“Waverly?”]

“Don’t freak out, okay?”

[“Waverly!”] Nicole’s voice was a warning.

“Okay!” Waverly scowled. She took a deep breath. “I—I got hit.”

[“What do you mean you ‘got hit?’”]

Cringing, Waverly said through her teeth, “Shot. I was… shot.”

[“Oh my God! Waverly!”]

“Shit! I meant—it—it was just a graze!”

[“Are you okay?”] An increase in volume along with stress.

Someone actually asked.

It was all Waverly could do not to just open the floodgates and dissolve into a puddle of exhausted tears. “No… no I’m not, Nicole. But—It just—Everything hurts and today sucks balls and I’m just—I’m about to… I don’t know…”

[“Are you going to the hospital? Because I will meet you there and—“]

“Nicole…”

[“—and I think there’s a specialist—I can’t remember her name but I will call them and make sure she’s—because you’re—“]

“Nicole!”

The rambling stopped immediately.

“Nicole… we can’t go to the hospital. Whoever did this might be looking for us there and—and we’re safer at the Homestead, okay? Just trust me, please? Dolls is taking care of me.” Waverly actually felt a warm sense of reassurance. For once, Dolls had been completely on Waverly’s side. And come through for her when she needed him.

[“I’m coming over.”]

Yes!

No! Wait! Oh God there are probably bodies everywhere and the house is a wreck and I’m a wreck and it might not be safe and—and—

“No, wait!” Waverly started to roll off the sofa but a sting made air hiss through her teeth. Her head was starting to throb again, along with her entire right side starting at her ribs.

Nicole pleaded. [“Waverly. Please let me see you. I’m your—I—I care about you and I need to know you’re all right. Please.”]

“I want to see you, too! But I don’t know if it’s safe and everything—everyone—is a mess and high strung and—please. Just… just wait.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone.

[“Can I—can you at least send me a picture? Because I am freaking out a little and I’d feel better just knowing that you’re—you’re—“]

“Okay,” Waverly interrupted. “Promise. Right now. And I’ll talk to you later when everything’s calmed down a little. Because I do want—need—to see you. Okay, Nicole?”

There was a long, jittery exhale on the other end. [“Okay, Waves.”]

“Miss you.”

[“I miss you too.”] Nicole’s tone was soft and there was a hint of shaky breathlessness that made Waverly feel fluttery (and finally in a good way).

With an exchange of goodbyes, they hung up. Waverly sighed and tapped over to SnapChat and opened the selfie camera. Other than deep circles under her eyes and her long hair fanned out in tangles on the pillow, Waverly didn’t look terrible (all things considered). She gave a weak smile and snapped a picture.

She then tried to hold the phone as far back at arm’s length as she could manage (a much harder feat). The surrounding chaos of the living room made it look like the war zone Waverly was trying to avoid. Snapping a photo of her wound, Waverly angled away to crop out the bled-through bandage. It just looked like a small scratch on her side.

[Waverly says: “See? I only look a little like shit”]

[Nicole says: “Liar. You are still beautiful <3”]

[Nicole says: “Thank you, Waves. I feel better. Take care of your self”]

The Earp sisters eventually made it back to the Homestead just as the sun was setting. Willa busied herself with cleaning up. There was still something about her demeanor that made Waverly want to apologize or help or do something to make her happy. Possibly the odd, furtive glances Willa kept shooting her.

The side glances intensified when Wynonna sat down with Waverly at the kitchen table. They were joined by Dolls. Waverly had managed a shower and a change of clothes, though the wound at her side was already starting to seep blood down her side.

She felt awkward sitting at the table with her shirt hiked up almost above her sports bra with Dolls’ hot breath on her ribs. He explained to Wynonna how to wrap the injury and then mumbled about how he was going to do a final sweep of the perimeter and come back.

A little trial and error, but Wynonna figured it out pretty quickly. Dabbing at a fresh gauze pad with antiseptic, she gave Waverly an encouraging smile. “Dolls said you kicked some ass with your shotgun.”

Squinting skeptically, Waverly tilted her head. “When? Before or after I got shot?” She mumbled, “I wish everyone would stop telling me to hide when shit hits the fan.”

“We just want you safe, babygirl,” Wynonna replied. She reached over to apply the pad. “Put pressure here.”

Waverly hissed at the pain. It was hard to see over her hands/breast in her way. “Do you think it’ll scar?”

The older Earp winked and gave a slanted smile. “Dudes dig scars.”

Hmmmm…

Before she could stop herself, Waverly found herself asking: “Do chicks?”

For a moment, there was confusion in Wynonna’s eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, the door slammed. Dolls had returned.

It was worse than they thought. These human mercenaries had top-shelf gear and were ex-military. And their target was Deputy Marshal Xavier Dolls.

There was definitely a traitor in their midst. Someone who had infiltrated Black Badge or Judge Cryderman’s office or both. And there was no way of knowing how far to the top the conspiracy went.

Willa returned and interrupted the BBD crew’s worried theorizing with a doozy of a request: “I need you to tell me everything you know about Bobo Del Rey.”

“Do you remember something?” Wynonna asked, eyes crinkling with concern.

“I don’t know. But I want to,” Willa replied. She chewed her cheek, her blue eyes distant.

Dolls raised a hand, his jacket whispering with the movement. “I can help with that. We can try a few techniques.” He started counting off his fingers. “There’s guided imagery, hypnosis, even some drug-induced—“

Willa interrupted him. “I’ll do it.” She shot Wynonna a significant glance, her mouth a hard line. “Whatever it takes.”

“Okay,” Dolls said, head bobbing forward in agreement. “We’ll start in the morning.” When Wynonna started to balk, he gave her a shrug. “It’s important, right? And you’ll be with her every step of the way.”

The former Heir gave begrudging nod. Smiling, Wynonna patted at Waverly’s injured side and ran a finger through her sister’s hair. That motherly glint had finally come back. “You. Get some rest, yea? I’ll be up in a minute with a bottle of the good stuff.”

Exhaling in a laugh, Waverly narrowed her eyes in disapproval. “Wynonna…”

“Fine, the bottle’s for me. Just a shot for you, then. And a couple painkillers.” Brunette locks tossed as Wynonna gestured at the stairs with her head. “Bed. Now.”

Waverly nodded and accepted the dismissal, though that fluttering resentment returned when Willa took her chair at the table. The two older sisters clustered together carefully as Wynonna started from the beginning.

With a sigh, Waverly crawled into her bed properly for the first time in a few days. The exhaustion from the day gave way to a deep yawn. She felt it all the way down her shoulders until it met the throbbing ache at her side.

Before falling asleep, Waverly pulled out her cell phone.

[Waverly says: “Dolls cleared the Homestead though he wants us to stick close tonight”]

Thankfully, Nicole answered immediately. She’d been so quick to respond all day. So sweet and attentive.

[Nicole says: “Tell me you’re okay again”]

Waverly smile was a slanted, crinkled thing.

[Waverly says: “I’m fine, I swear”]

[Nicole says: “Okay. What about now”]

[Waverly says: “Still fine”]

[Nicole says: “Are you sure?”]

[Waverly says: “YES OMG”]

[Nicole says: “You were SHOT”]

[Waverly says: “I was GRAZED”]

There was a pause. A series of “…” appeared and reappeared for close to 30 seconds.

[Nicole says: “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you”]

[Waverly says: “Me either”]

[Waverly says: “I’m okay. Honestly <3”]

[Nicole says: “<3”]

[Waverly says: “I’m gonna go to sleep. About to pass out. Come by tomorrow?”]

[Nicole says: “First thing. Should I bring breakfast?”]

[Waverly says: “Please”]

[Nicole says: “Any requests?”]

[Waverly says: “I’d kill for a breakfast taco”]

[Nicole says: “You got it, baby”]

[Waverly says: “Thanks, baby”]

[Nicole says: “Sweet dreams <3”]

[Waverly says: “Definitely”]

She fell asleep with her phone on her chest. Waverly was dimly aware of Wynonna coming in to drop off a glass of water. She felt a kiss to her forehead and a pat to her shoulder, but it could have been her imagination.

The next sound Waverly heard was the doorbell.

Nicole was here.

[dolfinsatdawn]

While I wait patiently for hurricane Irma to barge in on FL next week, I might as well do this question-y thing that my fellow Turn fan tagged me in! Might be stuff you were always curious about OR alternatively stuff you couldn't care less about, but hey. Here it is.

Thanks for the fun @greenofallshades​

  I think there's supposed to be 100 questions. I started numbering them, but because I'm spacy I totally forgot to do the rest. So, here you go.

I'm tagging: @lou-who, @dying-suffering-french-stalkers, and anyone else who wants to do this (because my computer is glitching when I try to tag).

1. The meaning behind my url:  dolfinsatdawn. This was me trying to upgrade to something more artsy sounding but still had something from my childhood obsession with dolphins it.

2. A picture of me: EHHHHHH. I'm kinda squeamish about this. If ya'll really REALY want to see a picture maybe I will.

3. How many tattoos i have and what they are:  Lol I don't do the whole "permanent on your skin" stuff. I do love henna tattoos though. Anything semi-permanent is super fun.

4. Last time i cried and why: I cried when I found out my grandpa was in the hospital last week. He's okay though. I'm going to visit him soon.

5, Favorite band:  THE BEATLES. Hands down. I also like a lot of classical and film scores so, the only real band I love 100% is the Beatles.

6. Biggest turn offs:  Not respecting my personal space. It takes me a REALLY long time to get used to people (especially boys), so touching without my permission is really upsetting and people who do are immediately on my NOPE list. Also, men who constantly talk about money. I REALLY hate that. I don't care how much you make compared to everyone else.

7. Top 5 (insert subject): Top five places I want to travel to next!  1. Tokyo!  2. Washington State  3. Germany!!! 4. China!  5. Nepal!

8. Favorite place to be alone? I love doing everything alone. I'm so happy to go out and just chill without the stress of other people. I love going on walks alone especially in really pretty places like beaches.

9. Biggest turn ons: umm....I dunno sense of humor? Kind eyes....Classy clothes are a MUST.

 10. Age: old enough to drink even though I don't

11. Ideas of a perfect date: One where my date doesn't "forget his wallet in his car" and make me pay for dinner before driving me home without paying me back for his half. (I'm not bitter about this dude AT ALL.)

12. Life goal: Publish my book series so there's something for people to remember me by.

13. Piercings i want: None really. I throw around getting my ears done, but I'm not really into punching holes in my skin.

14. Relationship status: SUPER SINGLE and livin it up.

15. Favorite movie: . UGH dude this is so hard. There's three main ones I watch whenever and I always love them: Pride and Prejudice 2005, Howl's Moving Castle, and Austenland!

 16. A fact about my life:  I've spent 13 years in the same house and I'm totally okay with that. (Yes I commuted to college from home and no I didn't regret it AT ALL.)

17. Phobia:  Spiders. Terrible fear of spiders. I'm also afraid of the dark a little bit and tornados.

.18. Height: 5'2"

19. Are you a virgin?  Heck yea! And proud of it! 

20. What is your shoe size?  4-5 depending on who makes them.

21. What’s your sexual orientation?  straight

22. Do you smoke, drink, or take any drugs?   Nope. I don't like alcohol and I'd prefer not to kill my brain cells I'll need those for grad school.

23. Someone you miss: My grandma. She was the most fun person and I could call her any time and we'd talk for hours. She died in February and I miss her all the time.

24. What’s one thing you regret?  I regret how judgemental I was in high-school. It caused a lot of problems with my best friend. We're okay now, and I've apologized, but it caused a lot of wasted stress and fights we didn't need to have.

25. First celebrity you think of when someone says attractive:  J.J. Field

26. Favorite ice cream?  CAKE BATTER!

27. One insecurity: Body image. I used to be very athletic and I miss that a lot. I feel really gross and lazy. I also stress eat a LOT.

28. What my last text message says:  To me - I finally found a Publix that has water.  From me - How am I like your dad?!

29. What's the most creative thing you've done recently: I decorated the house for fall!

30. What's the last song you listened to? Six Weeks by Of Monsters And Men

31. What do your favorite Pj's look like? I have a shirt that says "my cat doesn't like you" that I wear whenever we have guests over.

Have you ever stole money from a friend?  no.

Have you ever gotten in a car with people you just met?  Lol nope!

Have you ever been in a fist fight?  I punched my brother a few times, but like...we weren't fighting.

Have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back?  Yeah he had a girlfriend.

Have you ever been arrested?  No

Have you ever made out with a stranger?  Ew no

Have you ever laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by?  Yes I loved doing this at my grandma's house.

Have you ever been lonely?  HA. Who hasn't...?

Have you ever been to a club?  I went to a boat party once (I hated it) and they played that weird club music so that's the closest I've ever been to a club. I go to sports bars all the time for wings though.

 Have you ever felt an earthquake?  Nope you don't get those down here in FL really.

Have you ever touched a snake?  I LOVE SNAKES. They feel so fun. Snakes need love all the time.

Have you ever ran a red light?  Yes. It was 2 am. I was coming home from a theater show I was in. (They kept me late painting sets) and I turned left on red without stopping because I didn't even register that the light was red until I had already done it.

Have you ever been in a car accident?   Yes. They totaled my car. Scariest thing ever.

 Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?  Yah

Have you ever sang karaoke?  I think I did, but not in front of people. My grandparents had a Karaoke machine that my cousins and I all played with.

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t?   Yah like continuing to eat Mcdonalds at 2am when my brother comes home lol.

Have you ever laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose?  No! XD I've seen someone else do it though.

Have you ever slept with someone at least 5 years older or younger?  nope.

Have you ever dream that you married someone? Nope. I don't usually have love-related dreams.

Have you ever got your tongue stuck to a flag pole?  No, but I got it stuck to an icicle that I licked once.

Have you ever ever gone to school partially naked?  I was homeschooled so I worked in my PJ's a lot.

Have you ever brushed your teeth?   ???? do people NOT brush their teeth????

Have you ever ever too scared to watch scary movies alone?  yeah I couldn't watch Black Mirror alone. Otherwise I don't watch scary movies.

Have you ever been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on?  Naw. I might be tiny, but I fight hard. People know better.

Have you ever been told you’re hot by a complete stranger?  nope

Have you ever broken a bone?  I smashed my finger playing softball once.

Have you ever been easily amused?  I mean yeh. I watched youtube videos of people organizing stuff once for HOURS. D:

Have you ever laughed so hard you cried?  Alll the time

Have you ever mooned/flashed someone? no.

Have you ever forgotten someone’s name?   Literally all the time. I suck at names.

Have you ever give us one thing about you that no one knows? Uh...no? Idk I think at least someone knows everything about me.

What was your last dream?   I had pants that changed colors but never matched the outfit I had on. (It was the first dream in a week that wasn't an awful nightmare so I was thrilled!)

Would you be up for interplanetary travel if it was a thing?  YES YES YES. SEND ME TO SPACE! Its like being in the age of sail all over! Adventure! new planets! LET ME GO!

If you could travel back in time, where would you go?  18th century or Victorian era.

Do you prefer tech or real books for reading?   Books!!!

Do you dread doctor visits or do they not bother you?   I think they're a waste of time, but I'm not afraid of doctors.

Favorite fashion decade of the twentieth century? 1910's or 1920's. Edwardian (Titanic clothes) or Flapper (Gatsby).

Are you wearing nail polish and if so, what color?   YES I'm wearing the Northern Lights OPI color from the new Iclandic line. I LOVE nail polish.

 Are you into working out or no?  Yes, but it has to be fun. I hate machines and gyms. Dance is much more my style.

Do you have a temper?   Doesn't everyone? Mine's really buried though so you really gotta mess up and push me to get it to come out. I don't have the energy to be angry about a lot of stuff.

Do you have one item you treat yosef with, and if so, what is it?   SUGAR SCRUBS

Do you eat meat?  YEA I basically live at Chickfila.

If yes, how do you like it cooked?  Depends on the meat. Steak Med-Rare and chicken usually grilled well (no thank you to salmonella).

Ever had a boss or a teacher you absolutely hated?  HA basically every professor at my school who gets political. I'm sorry I took a literature class not a political science. You can critique the world later. Please teach what I paid for.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?  Tea!

Do you wear makeup?  Yes, especially when I go to work.

If you wear perfume, what’s your scent type/favorite fragrance?  I wear the cashmere perfume from bath and body works. I don't really like high end perfumes they make my throat hurt.

Do you have a girl crush?  nah

Candles, wax melts, or incense?  Candles. I love their little flames. It reminds me of fall/Christmas.

Favorite season of the year?  FALLLLLLLLLLL

Fanfic—do you prefer smut or fluff?   Fluff. Not into smut really at all.

Do you like taking selfies?  Why or why not?   I hate taking selfies. However, when you travel alone and you want photos of yourself you gotta suck it up.

Do you want children?   Eventually, but that means wanting a husband and meh - i'll wait.

Do you prefer lots of friends or just a few good friends?  Definitely just a few. People stress me out.

Introvert or extrovert, or mixture of both?  Raging introvert.

Ocean/beach or mountains?  BOTH?!!?! Beach because it doesn't give me altitude sickness, but I love the mountains anyway.

Morning person or night person?  Night owl 10/10.

Do you initiate conversations with strangers?  not if I can help it.

Milk or dark chocolate?  Dark

What do you post on your blog?   Star wars...historical romance gifs...artwork sometimes...random other aesthetic stuff and cute things!

Is it hard for you to apologize when you’re in the wrong?   Yah I kinda have a pride thing that is hard to get past. I do apologize though. The person won't know you're sorry unless you say it.

Love at first sight?  nope.

Best/funniest Halloween memory?  This one year my best friend and I went as spies and everyone thought we were the blues brothers. It was hilarious because my friend had no idea who the blues brothers were and it got to the point where we both just said YES when people asked because it was too exhausting to say otherwise.  

Did your first crush work out or was it unrequited?  Unrequited

Do you like old movies—and by old, I mean OLD old?  I watched a silent version of Phantom of the Opera that was cool once, but usually those movies are a bit slow for me.

Do you tan or burn?  Both, but right now I'm tanning.

Do you think people deserve second chances?  Depends on what they did. Cheating? Not a chance.

What animal would be cutest if scaled down to the size of a cat?  ELEPHANT!!! Imainge the tiny round feets and the little trunk!!!!!!

Do you have any weird food likes/dislikes?  I hate lots of foods. and I hate any food if there's too much of it.

.What’s the funniest real person’s name you’ve ever heard?   (I don't want to use his real real name, but the last name is real)  Harry Dingledien.

[cosmosogler]

i was trying to meditate to help myself fall asleep last night. but thoughts kept coming up and i was stuck between trying to remember them so i could write them down later and letting them go so i could sleep. i ended up doing NEITHER!!!

yesterday i took wiley for a walk and played outside with the dogs and my brother for a little while. it was impossible to sleep last night though, and it took me like 2 hours to fall asleep (so i didn’t doze off until after 3), and then i woke up again around 6 and couldn’t fall back asleep. i know it was around 6 because as i was laying there trying to fall back asleep my mom came upstairs to wake my brother up to get ready for school. i was exhausted by the time my alarm went off four hours later so i napped a bit. 

i was trying to do the mindfulness stuff, like focusing on my breathing. i wasn’t thinking TOO hard. i remember wondering if i should let thoughts go as they come up, or let them finish and then let them go. and then i was struck by the oddity of the process of thinking. i knew what the end of my thought would be before i got to it in “words.” but i was unable to stop thinking it until i wordlessly reached the end of the “sentence.” i wonder if that’s what really keeps my thoughts from going as fast as i’d like- stopping to put them into words instead of just letting the process go until it reaches a satisfying conclusion. but i wouldn’t know it had reached a conclusion unless i stopped to put the thought into words. i wonder if animals think faster because they don’t use words. do birds think in song? do dolphins think in squeals?

i am regrettably flagging in my efforts to socialize even a little bit. i said maybe a sentence today. i only left my room for about 20 minutes total. and i didn’t message anyone. i parked at my desk and read tv tropes for hours and hours. i’m kind of, sort of considering what my next move should be toward writing up some new drafts of my stories, or at the very least filling in some missing scenes and character motivations and logical strangeness in my comic script. i actually came up with a really good reason for the climax of the comic to go the way it does, which i did not have previously. just gotta... add some stuff in so it doesn’t look like a total ass pull. 

maybe i almost feel ready to start liking my characters again. i don’t know if i’m really there yet, but i could see myself getting there. i still don’t want to draw or write. that’s a problem. i noticed i feel like i have a little more energy/motivation to do literally anything if i do actually get some exercise during the day. so i’ll take the dog out around the neighborhood again tomorrow. i feel bad having to leave eve and diogi behind though, since diogi can’t even get to the park and back any more without running out of steam. she gets so upset if i don’t take her though...

my therapist gave me a thought journal i still haven’t started writing in. it’s one of those cbt things where you, like, figure out a harmful thought, write it down, and challenge it with the power of logic and write down how you feel after creating the new thought. but i can’t seem to disentangle specific negative thoughts from general malaise. 

i also didn’t compose the letter to my grad schools. nor did i start training for the pokemon competition. sign ups start on the 9th, so i have a little time... i don’t know why i haven’t started that. it’s not hard. it’s not even unenjoyable. it’s exactly the kind of more or less mindless chore that should be perfect for the level of effort i’m able to give right now. i already made the charts and spreadsheets and wrote down all the information i needed from the computer back in like december. i could go sit outside and do it with my notebook on my lap. actually that sounds like a good idea and i should try that tomorrow morning.

i dunno. i am... profoundly sad. i’m so sad i don’t even feel it any more.

this would be so much easier if i could just blame it all on one thing. like my closest friend dumping me like hot garbage with no warning. i mean yeah, that really bummed me out, but i started feeling sick before all that. it’s been two and a half months. i’m starting to think i’ll never feel better.

my mom keeps encouraging me to look for an outpatient clinic in the city. i couldn’t find one i’d feel safe at when i spent a couple hours clicking around the insurance list last week. she says i “need to get this solved.” i keep wanting to say, like... you can’t solve depression. that’s not how depression works. i don’t think that’s what she wants to hear though. also i don’t think that will actually help or change anything. she would say i’m obviously not trying hard enough, and if i just TRIED HARDER i wouldn’t feel so bad and sick all the time. and i don’t think that would be helpful for me to hear. so i don’t correct her.

i wanted to ask my therapist what she thought about meeting more often, or where i could go to see someone more often, when i saw her on friday but she kind of steamrolled over me. i didn’t get to talk about my nightmares either. it’s just, there’s only so much i can talk about and work on in an hour, and i just don’t have enough time to get through everything that i’ve been feeling in that amount of time once a week. even if it was just twice a week that would be so much better. i understand that i need to prioritize when i share my feelings with a therapist, but there’s just... an overwhelming amount of material to sort through. there’s no possible way to get to everything i feel is important to talk about right then, let alone everything i WANT to talk about. 

and when she says stuff like “but the earth is sentient” it kind of blindsides me and i lose my train of thought because i stop to remind myself that that’s not how reality works as i understand it, and i shouldn’t believe everything someone tells me just because they’re a therapist. i have to stop to address that internally every single time because i don’t want to believe that. yes there is something strange going on with synergy and life and consciousness as concepts but having mass and chemical reactions doesn’t make everything sentient. if “planet earth” is sentient, are individual pebbles sentient? dust grains? individual atoms? where is the line? what even is consciousness? when and why does a collection of tons of cells start thinking “i” instead of “we”? when does a collection of cells even START thinking? what about the solar system as a whole, since planet earth is just part of a system itself? is the galaxy as an entity sentient? where is the line. even a fuzzy line still implies a distinction.

i got sidetracked again. as much as one can get sidetracked on a stream of thought glorified diary entry. i sure hope you wanted to read about cosmic consciousness, because that’s what ended up happening. man even i don’t want to read all the bullcrap i just spouted into the last 12 paragraphs. i mean, i read over my journal entries anyway, when i want to collect my thoughts and figure out what i should talk about in therapy that week, but i’m sorry for dragging you through this nonsense too if you got this far. i’m sorry.

it’s just very difficult to capture the exact nature of a thought in only words. even moreso for dreams, since they are somehow even more abstract and detailed and littered with fragments of emotion and knowledge and association that don’t make sense any more when you give words to them. words aren’t FLUID the way thoughts are. even writing down this garbage somehow makes it... less than what it was in my head. this applies to trying to write stories too. but looking over the journal entries i can sometimes remember exactly what i was thinking about and feeling from looking at the words, even though i know no one outside of me can ever get those exact feelings even looking at the same words. it’s weird, but... sharing them makes it feel more real than just keeping them in a word document. like someone else might care even a little bit. and that makes the lack of privacy and full coherency sort of, in a way, worth it.