#if you picked country music i’m sorry to inform you you’re EXTRA wrong

[crypticmillipede]

stardew valley hot(?) take:: if you pick anything besides “experimental noise rock” for sam’s 2-heart event where you decide his band’s sound, you are simply wrong and non-canonical argue with the wall

like i’m sorry, you really think the town’s resident grunge/emo trio would play “cheerful pop” “hi-energy dance” or “honky-tonk country”?? these guys look like they feed off the souls of dying Hot Topics

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  None yet.  Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you. 

MASTERPOST 

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed​ @satingrass-maidensfair​

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans. 

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days. 

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor. 

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down. 

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it. 

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little. 

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages. 

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word. 

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm. 

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand. 

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived.  “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.” 

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.” 

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

. 

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming. 

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?” 

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it. 

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked. 

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for. 

“I think I can live with that.” 

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy. 

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk. 

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.” 

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head. 

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect. 

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again. 

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.  

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping). 

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency. 

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to. 

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited. 

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves. 

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on. 

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall. 

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours. 

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it. 

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again. 

He stood back up, so you did as well. 

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out. 

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos. 

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs. 

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh. 

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?” 

“I guess I should be grateful for that.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them. 

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile. 

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off. 

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?” 

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”   

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

 “Do you mind if I join you?” 

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.” 

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull. 

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh. 

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?” 

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.” 

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

[fanaticfangirl001]

Like Real People Do Ch 5: An Assassin, A Terrorist, A thief, and A Bird Walk Into Madripoor

Taglist:

@p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922

Ch 5:

Author’s note:

“I’m going to go in alone.” Bucky turns to Winnie and Sam.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Bucky does have a better chance of getting answers.” Winnie adds.

“Also you’re an Avenger. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky says.

“It’s not like you two are known for frolicking in the sun together.”

“Zemo would be a good informant though, Sam.”

“He was obsessed with HYDRA. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.” Bucky walks off to speak with Zemo.

Sam turns to Winnie “ Why aren’t you volunteering to go in with him?”

“I can’t, I doubt Zemo likes me much.” Winnie scoffs.

“Right, SHIELD.”

“Yeah.” Winnie nods hoping Sam drops it.

“So.” Sam changes the subject, “ You were kind of out of it when I mentioned Sharon.”

“I said then that I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“How about now?”

“Look, right before Shield fell I found some documents connecting the dots.I saved them to a flash drive and drove my ass home to the apartment Sharon and I shared. I tried to tell her, she got defensive, we got in a fight. She claimed I was a part of Hydra. I called her a bitch and left.” Winnie explains.

“That’s rough.”

“Yeah, I don’t see us working it out. “

“There’s always couple’s therapy.” Sam suggests with a laugh.

“Oh right, how’d that session go?”

“Got to stare into his baby blues.”

“Did that help?”

“No.”

“I could do better than that.”

“Oh I bet he’d like that.” Sam smirks.

“Not what I meant.” Winnie rolls her eyes.

“What are you talking about breaking Zemo out of jail? Where the hell are we Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam asks.

“That’s a fantastic idea, Buck.” Winnie says sarcastically.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.”

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars.”

“That Bucky wants to let out of those bars.” Winnie sidesteps by Sam to avoid tripping.

“We also have eight super soldiers on the loose.”

“Shit, he’s gotta point, Sam.”

“Zemo is gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours.”

“He also probably doesn’t like me either.” Winnie adds rubbing the back of her neck.

“Offense, super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy but he still has a code.”

“How crazy?” Winnie asks.

“Bag of cats.” Sam answers.

“He blew up the UN, killed King T’chaka and framed you for it.” Sam continues.

“We don’t know how they’re getting the serum.”

Bucky says.

“We don’t even know how much serum is out there.” Winnie replies then adds “ Or who put it out there in the first place.”

“What did you do?” Sam asks.

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky says calmly.

Winnie takes a deep breath and puts her hands on her guns. If Bucky did what she thinks he did, then it’s only a matter of time before shit gets real.

“The weakest point in any system is not the software, the hardware, it's the meatware.The human element…” Bucky continues.

Three seconds to draw, two seconds to fire, three seconds to draw two seconds to fire, Winnie thinks over and over.

“I don’t like how natural, you’re being about this, and where are we, man?”

More lights fill the area and a door opens.

“Woah Woah Woah, What are you doing here!”

“I didn’t want to tell you cause I knew you’d never let this happen.”

Winnie follows the two with a gun in hand.

“What did you do?”

“We need him, Sam.”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may..” Zemo starts.

“No!” Both shout.

Winnie stands besides them with her gun pointed at Zemo.

“Apologies.”Zemo says softly then looks at Winnie.

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you back him.” Bucky continues.

“I really think I’m invaluable.”

“Shut up.” Sam turns to Zemo.

“If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.” Sam says to Zemo.

“Fair.”

Zemo turns to Winnie and says “You’ve been very quiet. Penny for your thoughts.”

“Don’t let him mess with you.” Sam says as Winnie puts her gun back in the holster. “Okay, Zemo, where do we start.”

“So our first move is grand theft auto?”

“These are mine, collected by family over the generations.” Zemo starts collecting his things out of the cars.

“Nice wheels.” Winnie gestures to a vintage cadillac.

“So she speaks.”

“Leave her alone.” Bucky says.

“I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention of leaving my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started.”

“First stop is a woman named Selby.” Zemo says carrying his bags away. “Mid level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.”

Walking up to the private jet, “ So all this time you’ve been rich.” Sam asks.

“I’m a Baron, Sam.” Zemo says as the four climb on the jet, “ My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.”

Zemo drinks the champagne his butler serves him.

“It seems like you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name, and if I had known such a treasure would be with those two idiots, I’d escape sooner.” He says to Winnie.

“She’s Winnie, she’s a hacker. That’s your introduction.” Bucky says gruffly.

“ A hacker...interesting.” Zemo sips at his champagne.

“Not really.”

“Oh no, it is. You’re not with an agency, I guess.”

“No.”

“No health insurance or dental, no pay check.”

“None of that.”

“Do you live in a house?”

“Yes.”

“With no income?”

“Yes.”

“Must have a wealthy family?

“No, I’m an orphan.”

“Then pray tell how you get paid.”

“Easy, like Buck said, I’m a hacker, To make money I hack into bank accounts of the rich and take very little in the grand scheme of things. One percent of the richest men in the world’s wealth.”

“Winnie.” Sam nudges her.

“It’s the truth.” Winnie adds. “Besides not like he needed it in prison.”

The conversation lulls to a deafening silence.

“Why don’t you tell us where we’re going?” Sam asks.

“Sorry I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”

Bucky jerks across and grabs Zemo by the throat.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.”

Zemo nods understanding and Bucky sits back down.

“You okay, Buck.” Winnie asks.

Bucky nods.

“I’m sorry. I understand the list of names.People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ve seen that book.” Sam adds. “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?”

“I like ‘40s music, so...” Bucky answers.

“You didn’t like it.”

“I liked it.”

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience”

“He’s out of line, but he’s right.”

“Extremely right.” Winnie adds.

“Everyone likes Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

“You must have really looked up to Steve.But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s super soldiers is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.”

Winnie watches Bucky, and nudges his leg with her foot. He nudges her foot back with a small smile.

“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought.”

“There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others.” Winnie quotes Machiavelli.

“Clever.” Zemo says then adds “ Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we go to Madripoor.”

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary in the 1800s.”

“It’s kept it’s lawless ways.”

“Well let’s get the show on the road.” Winnie picks up her bag.

“We can’t exactly walk in as ourselves. James you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

“We have to fix this.” I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming, African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“Who am I?” Winnie asks. She dressed in a glittering short golden dress with black thigh high boots.

“A sugar baby.”

“Why am I the sugar baby?”

“It’s a role I thought you would be the most comfortable with.”

“Is this payback for stealing money from you.”

“No.”

“Oh well then Sam and I will be constantly vigilant. I have extra guns strapped to my thighs just in case.”

“The Smiling Tiger doesn’t have a sugar baby.”

“Then who am I..” Winnie’s face falls as she realizes who she’s paired up with on this mission.

“That.” Zemo points to her face,” is payback enough.”

“I don’t like you at all, but good play.” Winnie admits holding out her hand.

Zemo takes her hand and kisses it.

“Oh you don’t have to do that.” Winnie adds.

“No matter what happens we have to stay in character.”

The four of them climb into the car headed for Low Town.

Winnie stays close to Zemo looking around.

Zemo wraps an arm around her and whispers “Relax and fake like you’re meant to be here.”

“Right.” Winnie straightens her postures and twirls her hair between her fingers.

“We’re here.” Zemo then speaks to Bucky in russian: Ready to comply, Winter Soldier.

Once at the bar the bartender welcomes them “ Hello Gentleman, and lady, Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed, we have to do business with Selby.”

“The usual?” The bartender suggests.

“Ah, Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” Zemo says.

Winnie puts a hand on Zemo’s shoulder and lightly squeezes it.

“I love these.” Sam takes the glass

“Cheers, Conrad.”

Sam takes the drink and swallows the snake organ.

A man comes up to Zemo and Winnie lets go of his arm. Zemo wraps his arm around her.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…”

“New haircut.” The man nods towards Bucky.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.”

“Power broker, really.”

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?”

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.” Zemo begins walking to the middle of the room speaking Russian to Bucky.

‘ Oh no, Winnie thinks, it’s showtime.’

Bucky attacks the man standing beside Zemo. People begin recording. Multiple men are attacked until a gun is cocked.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”

“You’re undoing so much therapy.” Winnie adds softly.

“Keep in character or the whole bar turns against us.” Zemo adds softly before ending Bucky’s commands.

“Selby will see you now.” The bartender says.

“You good?” Sam asks.

Bucky doesn’t answer, just walks off.

The four go up the stairs.

“You should know, Baron.” Selby says “ People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand, an offer.”

“A lot has changed since you were here last.By the way I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we. I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.”She purs, “ What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum. And I give you him.” Zemo touches Bucky’s face. “Along with the code words to control him, of course.He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember.”

“I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. It’d be a bad date for the pretty thing on your arm. You were right to come to me. Arrogant but right. The super soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you want to thank. Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum but things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh the bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute. Don’t think you can find Nagel without me.”

Sam’s cell phone buzzes.

“Answer it.”

Winnie stands with her hands by her side ready to grab her guns.

“On speaker.”

“Hello.”

“Hey, um we need to talk about this situation. It’s been driving me, nuts.”

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?”

“Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.”

“What situation, Sarah? Say it.”

“The damn boat. And watch your tone. Okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

“The bank, yeah.” Sam scoffs. “Laundered so much… Yeah they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big time.”

“Yeah you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see when I have that banker killed.”

“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios! I don’t have time for this! Sam I’m sorry let me call you back.”

“Sam? Who’s Sam? Kill them.”

The window breaks and Selby falls shot in the chest.

Bucky and Sam fight the two guards with Bucky grabbing the gun. Winnie follows Zemo to the door.

“They’re going to pin this on us.”

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.”

As they walk out, phone’s all over the island begin buzzing with a bounty on the four of them.

“This is not good.”

“Obviously not good.” Winnie says

A man with a large gun begins shooting at the four, Sam and Bucky go in one direction, Zemo and Winnie in the other.

Winnie begins to notice the pattern of the sniper killing all those who want us dead. It reminds her of the cover she had on missions with Sharon. Winnie and Zemo keep going until they meet up with Sam and Bucky.

“We seem to have a guardian angel.”

“Well this is too perfect.” A woman says walking out of the shadows. “ Drop it Zemo.” She has him at gunpoint.

“Sharon.” Bucky says

“You cost me everything.” Sharon takes a step towards Zemo.

“Sharon wait, someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam explains.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass to save his ass, from his ass. I didn’t have the avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

Winnie clears her throat,” Sharon.”

“Winnie.”

“Don’t blow smoke, I was on the run too.”

“Was, is, big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t.”

“Listen Sharon we need your help.” Bucky asks.

“No we don’t.” Winnie argues.

Sharon laughs.

“Please.” Bucky tries again.

“Bucky.” Winnie interjects.

“Winnie, we need her help. You two can get over it.” Bucky turns to Winnie.

“I have a place in High Town, You’ll be safe there.”

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.”

“I thought if I had to hustle, I might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I can get for a real Monet.”

“You never liked art before.” Winnie mentions crossing her arms.

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets.”

“No, she means real. This gallery specializes in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.”

Winnie stops by one painting, and Sharon stands beside her.

“The Beach in Pourville, it was your favorite, right.” Sharon points out.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were listening, when I spoke about it while experimenting.”

“You said that if you could jump into any painting like Mary Poppins, you’d choose this one. So you could lay on the beach after jumping in the waves and watch the sun set.”

“I know what I said.”

“Have you?”

“Do I look like I’ve been to any beaches?”

“There’s a beach on High Town. You could stay.”

“I can’t leave Buck and Sam.”

“You call him Buck.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice,” Sharon turns to the group away from Winnie “ You guys need to change I’m hosting clients in an hour.”

Winnie changes into the gown that Sharon picked for her. Albeit not as sparkly as the one Zemo picked out. It was nice and understated. A short lilac halter dress with a black belt paired with her same thigh high black boots, Zemo had picked out.

Sharon opens the door.

“Sure, Sharon, you can come right in.” Winnie puts on the pearl earrings Sharon picked out.

“You look great.”

“Thanks.”

“You were right.”

“About.”

“Everything, shield, the government, being pessimistic. I didn’t believe you, and then I stole the shield and after being on the run I realized I was wrong the whole time. I shouldn’t have called you a hydra agent, especially after everything you did for Shield and the inventions.”

“The rocket boots work.”

“Course, they did, you made them.”

“You think apologizing after more than seven years is going to fix everything.”

“No, because I know you, and you hold grudges like no one else I know. But it’s a start to not hating me.”

Winnie sighs, “I don’t hate you, that’s too strong of a word but another start would be helping us a little more.”

“I thought you didn’t need my help.”

“Buck was right. Any other information you have is going to help us.”

“ Speaking of Bucky, what is your deal?”

“Deal?”

“Yeah are you two friends or more, because I…” Sharon starts but gets interrupted.

“Don’t.” Winnie says sharply.

“Oh.” Sharon smiles.

“Not like that. It’s just, you remember when we’d go out together, and I’d flirt with a guy and then they’d ask me for your number.”

“You don’t want that to happen to Bucky.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Noted. Just uh he might have heart palpitations when he sees you in this dress.”

“Sharon, go check on the guys.”

Sharon walks in the room as Sam’s changing shirts.

“Much better.”

“What’s going on Sharon? You don’t ever wanna come back home?”

“They’ll lock me up if I step foot back in the States.”

“Madripoor doesn’t allow extradition.”

“Look I’m sorry I didn’t call. But after the blip and the chaos. I just..”

“Look you know the hero thing is a joke, right. The way you gave up that shield.deep down, you must know it's all hypocrisy.”

“He knows. And not so deep down.”

“By the way how is the new Cap?” Sharon asks.

“Don’t get me started.” Bucky answers.

“I punched him in the face.” Winnie enters the room in her new dress.

“You look nice.” Bucky looks away from Winnie.

“Thanks.” Winnie sits on the other couch by Zemo.

“Please you buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr.America! Cap’s best friend.” Sharon sits down by Bucky.

“Wow, she’s kind of awful now.”

“Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum.” Sam starts.

Winnie looks down at her phone tracking the shield and John just to see that they are still in Germany.

“You guys really should steer clear of all this for your own safety. Winnie, seriously, you can and should stay here with me. You know all about art and I can get you drawing again, or inventing. Plenty of people would pay big money for rocket boots, or taser whips, boomerang daggers.”

“I can’t.”

“We know it’s a risk, but we won’t leave until we find the person that cracked the code.”

“We got a name, Wilfred Nagel.”

“Nagel works for the Power Broker.”

“We need your help Sharon, I can get your name cleared.”

“You haggling with my life?”

“Not like that.”

“I don’t buy that.”

“You pretending like you can clear my name.”

“Okay maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.”

Sharon looks at Bucky, he’s glaring at Zemo, who’s talking to Winnie about art.

“You draw and paint?” Zemo asks.

“I did, when I had the stuff or the time.” Winnie shrugs and pulls out her tattered sketchbook with pages falling out. She opens it flipping through a few landscapes and portraits of people she saw at coffee shops.

“You stole money from a billionaire and you didn’t steal enough for art supplies.” Zemo questions.

“I only stole money from you for rent, groceries and to sponsor a few Sokovian families.” Winnie explains. “ I make a tight budget and stick to it.”

“You.. what?” Zemo looks surprised.

“I sponsored a few Sokovian families to emigrate to the United States. It was anonymous so I don’t know where they ended up.”

“I heard that.” Bucky adds to Sharon.

“I don’t trust charity.”

“All right, a deal then.”

“You help us out, and I get your name cleared.”

Sharon shakes his hand.

“Well I sell to some well connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay out of trouble. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Trouble.”

Loud electronic music plays. People are everywhere, dancing with everyone. Winnie feels a little out of place.

“A part to play,again.” Zemo says from behind her. “Relax, your friend said to have fun.”

“Ex-friend, and secondly parties like this aren’t fun for me. I’d rather be..” She’s interrupted by Zemo.

“You’d rather be in some greasy spoon hole in the wall diner with James, sharing a milkshake.”

“Malts, and second why do you think this?”

“On the plane when after James choked me, you asked if he was okay.”

“Friends do that.”

“Again on the plane when I made James uncomfortable, you kicked his leg.”

“Yeah, checking up on him without asking if he’s okay. “

“ He stares at you when you aren’t looking.”

“He stares at everyone.”

“When he stares at you though, his features soften.”

“And.”

“Also when we were talking about art, he was glaring at me.”

“He doesn’t like you much anyway. He has reason to glare at you that doesn’t have to do with me.”

“I’m just saying if you two both feel the same way, why wait? No one is guaranteed time on this earth.”

“You’re ridiculous. Also you might want to change your pin code. Your dead wife’s birthday isn’t a secure code.” Winnie walks off from Zemo.

Winnie finds Bucky by himself on the outskirts of the dance floor.

“Need a breather.”

“Yeah.”

“Winnie, stay away from Zemo. He plays mind games”

“I can handle myself. We were talking about you.”

“That’s another reason why you should stay away from him.”

“He said you like me cause you stare at me, but..”

“I gotta find Sam.” Bucky walks off to find Sam.

The moment Bucky is out of sight Zemo walks back to her.

“Did you get the answer?” He asks.

“Yeah, I did. Not the one I wanted” Winnie nods then says “ Let’s dance, Zem.”

Bucky looks around and finds Sam.

“Winnie knows.” Bucky says nervously to Sam.

“She’s a genius and a hacker. What specifically does she know?”

“She knows that I..” Bucky trails off when Sharon arrives.

“Don’t let me interrupt this.” She says. “ Winnie knows that you..”

“I’m fond of her being around.” Bucky finishes.

“That was a secret?” Sam asks.

“Yes, did you know?”

“Of course I knew. The real question is does she like you?” Sam looks towards Sharon.

“I’m not violating Winnie’s trust. She just stopped hating me. I also found him.”

“Okay Bucky, let’s put in a pin in your love life problem for now, and let’s get this guy. Here we go.”

Sharon signals Winnie and Zemo and they follow the three out of the party.

“Madripoor can give New York a run for its money.”

“They know how to party.”

“You’re not a bad dancer, Zem.”

“Neither are you Win.”

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving. All right. He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel.”

“Need help out here.” Winnie offers.

“No I got it.” Sharon insists.

Winnie follows the three guys inside putting in her ear piece.

“Completely empty.”

“I’m positive it has to be.”

Walking around on the inside with a flashlight Zemo pushes in the false wall. Music is playing softly.

“Mel Torme, good taste.” Winnie whispers.

“Agreed.” Zemo motions for Bucky and Sam to go forward with the guns.

Winnie pulls out her guns, ready for anything and follows walking through the makeshift lab.She listens out for any signs of struggle from Sharon outside.

Zemo stops the record.

“Dr.Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab.”

“Hey. You know who he is right.This is Baron Zemo.I know you've heard of him too. You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.”

“How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I’ll talk.”

Winnie looks around at the chemicals and the serum making process. It would take years to make sense of this.

“Guys we have company.” Sharon says from the ear pieces. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here we gotta go.”

Bucky grabs the doctor and puts him in a chair with a gun in his face. He fires the gun near him.

“Okay.I was brought into Hydra’s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When Hydra fell I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject, with semi-stable traces of serum in his system.After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary components in his blood. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized. Perfect.”

“How have we never heard about this?”

“Because before I was able to complete my work. I turned to dust.Then when I returned, it was five years later,the program had been abandoned, so I came here. THe Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.”

“How many vials did you make?”

“Twenty.”

“Karli Morgenthau stole those, so I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.”

“Where’s Karli now?”

“I don’t know where she is. But a couple of days ago she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis. Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.”

“Well, what happened to her?”

“Not my pig, not my farm.”

“Is there any serum in this lab?”

“No.”

“Now what?”

“Guys we’re seriously outta time here.”

Zemo shots the doctor.

“No!”

A large explosion throws the five on the other side of the lab.

Bucky, Sam, Winnie, and Sharon on one side with Zemo on the other.

“Anybody see Zemo?” Sam asks.

“Let’s go.” Bucky pulls Winnie and Sharon up.

“Alright wait for my signal.”

Gunfire breaks out.

Sam goes early.

“Damnit.” Bucky says running after providing cover for Sam.

“You know the drill, right Winnie.” Sharon says.

“Yeah yeah, go.”

Sharon and Winnie run and fall into their old routine, as though it’s been no time since they were partners. The four find cover and keep shooting.

“And you like living here?”

“It’s not terrible.”

“It’s pretty terrible, Sharon.”

“I thought you were going left.”

“You went the wrong way.”

“I was clearing the way.”

“Do they always fight like this?” Sharon asks.

“Pretty much.” Winnie answers.

“I came out first. You had to follow me.”

“And where are we now!”

“Guys, Not the time!”

“I’m out.”

“This is a barricade.”

“It’s in every action movie.”

“Might have some more in my backpack.” Winnie tells Sharon.

“You carry ammunition in a Jansport.”

“I didn’t judge you in your home with the off season prada purse you were carrying.”

The four look up and see Zemo with a purple mask sniping the way clear.

“Go.” Bucky taps Winnie and Sharon

They grab each other and run.

Bucky and Sam follow into a shipping container.

A car screeches to halt with Zemo in it,

“Supercharged.”

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?”

“He’s right, we need him.”

“There’s three of us and at least twenty of them.”

“Fine but if you try that shit again…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Well that was one hell of a reunion.”

The four get in the car.

“Come back to the states with us.”

“I can’t. Just get me the pardon you promised me. And here.” Sharon gives Winnie back the flash drive with all the hydra information on it.

“Thanks.”

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you.”

“No.”

On board the private jet Sam calls Joaquin about Donya Madani.

“Oh ask him about the secret Winnie project.”

“Sure.”

“Do you have information on some secret Winnie project?”

“Yeah yeah it’s a bad name, she’ll work on it. Nothing, yet, okay more importantly is Donya Madani.”

Winnie looks down at her phone tracking John with earbuds in listening to his conversations.

“You okay?” Bucky asks seeing Sam flop down into a chair.

“Yeah. Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through, and Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

“Well it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.”

“Yeah I get that. All right. Maybe I made a mistake.”

“You did.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. I should have destroyed it. “

“Look that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me. The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap. and it aint gonna be Walker. So before you destroy it, I’ll take it from him myself.”

Joaquin calls Sam back and Zemo comes back with plates of food.

He gestures towards Winnie and says to Bucky“ Can she hear us?”

“No, she’s in survelliance mode. Put a tracker on the new Cap.”

“Smart.”

“Surprised she hasn’t put one on you.”

“Winnie is quite special, isn’t she?”

“Whatever you're thinking about saying or doing, don’t.”

“Oh I have no interest in her. Besides a financial one.”

“You want her to hack on your behalf, not gonna happen.”

“No, she’s an artist.”

“You want to pay her to draw and paint.”

“Yes, she’s very talented. She showed me her sketchbook, you’ve seen it haven’t you?”

“No.”

“Hm, interesting.”

“Stop.”

“They found Madani. Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go.” Zemo says. “I for one am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli. Oeznik we’re changing course.”

“Walker knows you two broke out Zemo.” Winnie says taking out her earbuds. “ He’s also not too concerned with his rules of engagement.”

Walking down the streets of Riga, Latvia, Zemo begins talking. Winnie looks at the small buildings lining the street, it looks like painting by the sea.

“I don’t suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial, at least the thief donated.” Zemo gestures to Winnie.

Zemo stops at a large building, “We are here.”

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky says.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful.” Winnie adds.

“Always am.” Bucky nods.

Once Zemo and Sam are inside Winnie follows them.

Sam turns towards Winnie with a smile.

“What?”

“Be careful.” Sam mimics her.

“Not you too.”

“No it’s cute. It’s adorable actually. That you have no clue.” Sam says.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson-Chapter Two: Therapeutic Procedure

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy share some moments during their treatment sessions…and a phone call that could set the tone for the next few weeks.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None, yet… ;)

Author’s Note: Sorry, I was so eager and excited to post the first chapter of this last night, I totally put some inaccurate info in my description notes. I will correct that in the original post and  try to do better henceforth! Hope you enjoy Sy and Shane totally flirting some more and getting more friendly in this chapter. Feedback is appreciated! Even constructive criticism! :D

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. 

Tags: @onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee

Let me know if you wish to be added to the list! I’m happy to do it!

Shane woke up that morning with knots in her stomach. She dropped every product she picked up in the shower, she was shaking so much. She accidentally ordered the wrong coffee on her way to work and was now drinking something much less caffeinated and far too sweet for her taste. The barista had informed her it was a grande caramel macchiato with an extra pump of vanilla and extra caramel drizzle…with only two shots of espresso…she couldn't begin to describe how wrong that drink was for her. But it was better than nothing, she told herself, not fully convincingly.

She had chosen her clothes with extra care, even though, with the dress code, her options were limited. And she had made sure to put on a bit of mascara and just a touch of perfume, even though they weren't strictly supposed to wear it…she didn't know why she was bothering.

Well, actually, she did know why. She had been checking her schedule extra diligently lately to make sure she didn't look like a hobo when Sy was coming in. He'd been coming for three weeks now, and after the initial bellyaching about Jordan not being as pretty as her…her heart!...and his feeling extra sore after his visits with him, they were on a roll and had a great chemistry together as far as their treatments went…she tried not to think about…beyond the world of therapy.

She thought back to their first session after she got back from her trip. And the conversation they had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think the next time you can't see me, I'm just going to cancel." he had sulked as he wiggled his mass of muscle onto the mat.

"Sy, no. you need therapy. Don't be like that to Jordan. He's an excellent therapist."

"He ain't you though." he smirked, sending her heart racing with that smile that somehow managed to look both boyish and rakish under his full, dark beard. Fucking hell. He needed to stop.

"Well, we can't fault him for that, can we? Lay back, Mister." She demanded. Done with the niceties of the evaluation and onto the treatments where she was in charge. The boss.

"Yes, sir!" she laughed at his clear avoidance of calling her ma'am.

"So where'd you go last week? Vacation or stay-cation?" he asked, the term "stay-cation" sounding downright comical coming out of his country-boy mouth.

"I went to the beach. Gulf Shores."

"I thought you looked like you got some sun."

"Yeah," she pretended his noticing the detail of her awesome tan did not send her reeling. "My folks rented a condo right on the water for my siblings and I to come and stay with them. They're still there. It was tough to leave all that beauty." the beach, pretty much any beach, was her favorite place to be.

"I bet…" he looked at her, something dreamy in his eyes, but he looked away before she could process it. "I thought I had my fill of sand and sun when I was over in Iraq. But you make it sound…like paradise." he smiled softly up at her as she worked on his knee, trying to break apart some of the scar tissue from the injuries and surgeries he'd had…and focus on that, and not the warmth rising in her.

"That's the perfect way to describe any place on the Gulf of Mexico. I doubt it's anything like Iraq, since there's so much water around. It's my favorite vacation destination. Well, apart from London."

"Them British folks always seem so stuck up. Don't know if I'd get along with any of 'em."

"It felt like a second home for me. Everyone was very kind and polite, for the most part. At least it was no worse than it is here."

"Maybe it's just because you're so nice."

"Wait 'til about week eight or ten of your protocol. You won't think I'm nice then. You'll be cussing me out and ready to ring my neck."

"Promise?" he asked, a dark grin on his lips and in his eyes…she faltered for a moment, gulping.

"Cut it out, Syverson." she rolled her eyes, covering…without great effect the way he made her feel.

"Yes...ma'am." he smirked with satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now, today, she'd be treating him again, fairly early in the day, and she had to prepare herself. She'd checked the policy, and although there wasn't anything strictly against dating a patient, it was clearly a conflict of interest, and would be frowned upon by her frigid tyrant of a boss. Best to let things remain platonic for now.

Her 9:30 was a no show, so she finished up some notes and was working on some continuing education credits when messenger popped up around 10:00.

Sergeant Sexypants is here. He's quite early and he knows it…*smirk emoji* he must like you, Shane!

Heather, come on, be respectful…he was discharged at the rank of Captain! *rofl emoji* and I think you might be right about him liking me…*nervous emoji*

Oooooooooh!!! You guys are gonna *couple kissing emoji* *eggplant emoji* *okay emoji* *explosion emoji* *baby emoji*

Omg…*three facepalm emojis* I am going to go ahead and start him early since my 9:30 was a NCNS.

Don't finish him too early. Make it last. *smirk emoji*

Jeez. She closed the chat and went to grab him from the waiting area.

"Hey Sy, you ready?"

"You bet, sunshine!" he flashed her a crooked smile. He was calling her sunshine now…ad that to the list of things she'd have to pretend didn't make her swoon.

"Great. Let's start on the bike. How's the knee feeling today?"

"Oh, it's…about the same. Stiff. Lil' sore."

"Well, it's a slow process, like I told you at your eval. You've got a lot going on in there."

"I know…just…it hasn't taken me four weeks to do anything in my life." he sulked. "So…thinking about this taking…twelve or more…" he grimaced as he sat down on the bike, and adjusted it for his longer than average legs, putting his feet in the pedal stirrups.

"You may not see it, Sy, because you're so close to it, but trust me, you're making progress. I can tell you're doing your exercises at home, and you're always willing to put in the work here. You have no idea how much that sets you apart from…some of these other people." she leaned in closer and spoke the last part more quietly to him. It was true. So many of her patients were either lazy or just in it to appease their MDs into writing them scripts for pain meds. That wasn't Sy.

"You really think so?" he gave her the side eye with his baby blues, crushing her with the color like the waves of the ocean she'd just returned from.

"In fact, I know so." she placed a reassuring hand on his broad and thick shoulder. She felt the tension between them hum, like electric current.

"Now, level one, and a steady pace. You're not trying to win any medals here. I'll take those crutches."

"When ya think I can 86 'em damn things?" he griped as he handed over the assistive devices.

"Well, you see Potter again tomorrow? I'll write an update today and send it to him. If he likes what he reads, or more likely pretends to read, regarding your progress, he may discharge them. Do you feel like you can be good to the knee and treat it nice without using crutches? I don't want you to regress and re-injure yourself. That's not gonna get you into your running shoes any sooner."

"I'll be nice. Real gentle." he winked at her…he wasn't just talking about the knee. And she knew it. But again, she pretended she didn't, ignoring once more those butterflies threatening to choke her they were multiplying so fast in her belly.

"Okay, I'll put that in my note. Patient compliant with instructions to be nice." she laughed.

They talked as they biked, Shane sat on the one next to him and pedaled along with him for something to do other than be idle. She thought it made him feel better as well. Like he wasn't doing it alone. They covered the subject of her siblings, an older brother in IT and a younger sister who was an MA, and his German Shepherd, Aika, which he was allowed to bring home from Iraq after they were both honorably discharged. Music, both of them completely in agreeance about the superiority of classic rock.

"I noticed you've worn a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt a few times and meant to say something before now."

"Yeah, they're one of my favorites. But there are a few newer groups that I like a lot, too. Kings of Leon got me through some tough times, honestly."

"Oh, they're great! I love their sound. And their lyrics…poetry."

"No shit. Sorry." she shook her head and raised up her hands to indicate that he didn't need to apologize to her for swearing. She'd been known to make sailors blush when she was off the clock. "Only by the Night…that whole album is…it's just in my blood, ya know? Ya ever have an album do that?"

"I have. Whole artists catalogs, actually."

"Which artist?" he prodded.

"The Beatles. Pretty much every song. Like you said, it just, like, I dunno, it's almost deeper than the veins. It's in the marrow. My soul." she stared off out the windows ahead of them, thinking about her favorite band in the world and how magical it was to experience Sir Paul McCartney playing some of her favorites live…twice…and the timer on the bike went off, pulling her from her daydream.

She looked over at him, startled by both the noise, and the dreamy look in his eyes that was becoming all too familiar.

"Sorry." she stood, grabbing his crutches for him and handing them back to him from where she had leaned them as they rode.

"Hey, don't be sorry for…ahem…for loving what you love. We should all…hold on to the things that make us feel like that." she nodded.

"Thanks…I don't think a lot of people…understand the way I…my tendency to take things like music, movies, and shows…books…so deeply to my heart." they walked to the treatment room from the gym, taking their time, since they had it. A rare occurrence for Shane, always needing to capitalize on every spare minute. To make productivity a priority.

"I think…that…well, seeing a pretty grim side of the world like I have…seems like there's enough darkness and bullshit making everyone miserable. If we find something…or…someone…that brings us some happiness or even just makes that misery bearable…we oughta hang onto 'em real tight. Cherish it like gold." the silence in the small room was loud with that electrical hum of their tension again. He'd said all the right things, as he always seemed to, but under the absolute wrong circumstances. She just nodded.

"They teach you philosophy in Basic?" she giggled. He laughed back in response.

"Oh, no, Basic was way easier than…whatever goes on inside of us."

"Speaking of which," she segued deftly, "lay back, and let my try to get some range out of that knee before I take new measurements for this update I'm gonna write."

"Yes, ma'am!" he chuckled.

"You get some sick thrill out of calling me that, don't you?" she scowled playfully at him.

"Oh, you have no idea…ma'am." he winked at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Shane was wondering how Sy's appointment went as she ate her soup at lunch and caught up on her morning notes. She got a ping on messenger.

You have a gentleman caller…*eggplant emoji*  hehe, he's on line three.

Geez…thanks Heather.

No need to ask for a name. She knew Heather meant Sy.

She picked up the phone at her desk in the treatment room.

"Hey Sy! How'd the appointment go?"

"Hey, sunshine…eh…he said I'm doin' good, but he wants me to stay on crutches another two weeks." she could hear grave disappointment in his voice. She felt for him.

"Aww, I'm sorry Sy. I know you wanted off those. And I know they're a pain. Literally and figuratively."

"Why wouldn't he want me off 'em?" he was so frustrated. He must have just left the office.

"Did you ask him that question?"

"You know doctors, Shane. Not like I would have got an answer in plain English. Figured you'd know."

"Well, I haven't seen your post-visit report, but it's my presumption that he wants to play it safe. You know he spent most of his day in the operating room with you, right? An eight hour surgery, you had. He probably doesn't want to undo all that by d/c'ing the crutches too soon."

"I was gonna be careful though, Shane!" he was worked up properly, and she could hear it over the roar of his pickup in the background.

"I know you were, Sy. I'm sure you were going to take all kinds of precautions. But what if you're walking into your kitchen, during a storm, and there's a loud clap of thunder, and Aika gets startled and busts past you? What if you're feeling good one day, and forget about it, and jog to catch up to someone holding the door open for you and miss a stick or something under foot? You can't prepare yourself for every pebble or patch of mud in your path, Sy. Accidents will happen. Some circumstances are beyond our control…we just have to do the best we can. The crutches are going to help you until we get you stronger. That's what we'll focus on until those two weeks are up."

"Why is it you can calm me down like this?" he asked, sincere and truly calmer than he had been.

"I'm just a good therapist, is all."

"Ya don't think that's really all, do ya?" the sound of his deep drawl in her ear from the receiver made her shiver. He was implying something that she just couldn't entertain. It wasn't possible for them right now. Maybe…down the road…in a few weeks…

"I'll see ya tomorrow, Sy. Come ready to work that knee."

"You didn't say no…" he was too hopeful. Damn it, he was cute when he was hopeful. She was glad she couldn't see his face light up like she knew it was doing.

"You may have noted I didn't say yes, either."

"Yet. See ya in the mornin', sunshine."

"Bye, Sy."

She put the receiver in the cradle and her face in her hands.

"Shit."

She had a feeling this particular patient was about to become much more complicated.

Up Next: Chapter Three-Therapeutic Activity

[mypersonalrambling]

Christmas Wonders

Warnings: None. Fluff

Pairings: Valter x Reader 

Requested: Yes :)

Summary: Christmas is your favorite holiday and Valter makes it extra special

Author’s note: This was requested a long time ago. I’m so sorry for the person who requested it. But I finally finished it, I hope you like! I tried to incorporate the reading being from Wales since that’s what they wanted, but wasn’t sure exactly how to execute it so I more or less mention your accent. 

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

Christmas has always been your favorite holiday; the lights, the music, the air is cold and crisp. . This year is even more special as you have someone significant to share it with. You’ve been dating Valter for almost a year, the relationship could only be described as a fantasy. Valter and you met at a coffee shop not too long after you moved from Wales to Sweden. He fell in love with your accent immediately; he would listen to you talk for hours specifically about your childhood.  

Two months after meeting you moved into Valter’s apartment; it wasn’t a difficult decision as you were there most days anyway. Both of your friends and families were apprehensive of how quickly the relationship progressed, however, the two of you proved them wrong and lasted longer than anyone would have guessed. 

Now it’s the weekend before December 1st which only means one thing, it’s time to decorate for Christmas. You hop out of bed, attempting to not disturb Valter. Rushing to the storage room, you drag all the boxes filled with decorations to the living room. By the time Valter woke up, the living room looks as if it was meant to be in a Hallmark movie. “Wow, you really went all out.” 

“Of course, these decorations can only be enjoyed for a month, you have to put them up as soon as possible. Usually, I put them up right after Thanksgiving, but seeing as this is the first year sharing it with someone, I didn’t want to go overboard.” You turn back to finish putting the ornaments on the tree.  Each ornament is unique and has a symbolic meaning. You have some from when you were a child, given to you by your grandmother. Some you’ve gotten in different countries after traveling. You even have one Valter picked out a couple of weeks ago; the ornament has the anniversary date of the first time you met and your favorite picture of the two of you. 

“Did you leave anything for me to help with?” He rubs his eyes attempting to rid them of sleepiness. You’ve always thought he looks most attractive after just waking up. His hair is always a mess, usually, his pants are hanging low on his hips, and his voice is at least an octave lower than it normally is. 

You can’t help but stare at his entire body before answering.“You can put the star on top. I can’t reach it.” You grab the star out of the box, stretching your arm out so he can take it. 

“Is that all I’m good for? Just reaching things you can’t?” He snarks. He loves to tease you about how he’s always having to reach things for you since his apartment is built for a person of his height and not yours. 

“Yep. I only date you because you’re tall. I’m so sorry it took this long for you to find out,” you say sarcastically. He walks up until he’s standing directly behind you and able to put it up on the tree. Once the decorations are complete, you make your famous hot chocolate so you can sit and enjoy the fruits of your labor. 

The two of you curl up on the couch to watch Christmas movies for the day. You lay so that Valter is behind you with his arms wrapping around you, with a blanket thrown on top. You never feel more at ease than when Valter is holding you. Throughout the movies, he jokes about the cheesiness of the storylines until you remind him your relationship would appear cheesy to others as well. The closer Christmas became the more stress there was. You come from a relatively small family or at least compared to Valter’s. Trying to find the perfect gift for everyone seems impossible. Valter tried to relieve the stress as best he can. He gives you a list of suggestions for his family and tells you no matter what you give them, they will enjoy it. 

It’s Christmas Eve and your nerves are through the roof.  Stellan’s party is this evening and you are running around making sure you have all the gifts packed, the dish you are bringing is prepared correctly, and the outfit you’re wearing fits. This is the first time you will meet all of his siblings. You’ve met a few of them on different occasions but never all together. Valter did his best to help calm you. The drive to the party felt like an eternity. His family has always treated you with kindness. 

You are the first to arrive. Slowly the rest of Valter’s siblings and their families trickle in. When Bill arrives he makes a beeline for you. Besides Valter, Bill was the one you are closest to. Once everyone arrives and is settled in, Stellan informs dinner is ready shortly after. Most of the food is traditional Swedish, however, Stellan being as kind as he is, made a couple of dishes from Wales.   

After everyone is done stuffing themselves, it’s decided there should be a rest period before opening presents. Most everyone convenes in the living room; some sit on the floor to stretch out while most find a comfortable place near the fire. The youngest two children can barely contain their excitement. You’ve lost count of the times they’ve asked if it’s time to open presents. By the time everyone agrees that it’s time to open, the youngest two rush over to the tree to grab their gifts. 

The tradition in Valter’s family is the youngest opens first and the oldest last, as to keep children occupied while others open their gifts. There is minimal talking while gifts are being opened. Finally, it is Valter’s turn; you hand him two packages from under the tree; one small and one of larger capacity. 

First, you hand him the little one, knowing he’ll want to use the second as soon as he opens it. He slowly peels the wrapping paper off of the small one, attempting to not destroy it. He begins to tear up when he opens the box; a couple of months prior you bought a necklace with the date the two of you met. “It’s stunning, I’m never going to take it off.”  He isn’t as cautious when tearing the paper off of the second present. His face lit up as a child that awakes early on Christmas morning. “I...how did you...they sold out in minutes,” his voice full of bewilderment. He’s been talking about the new Playstation for weeks but was unsuccessful at obtaining one. You remember him staying up waiting for the launch, making sure he had everything he would need, however so many others had the same plan. What Valter didn’t know was that you had also been online for the launch and was slightly quicker. 

“I was in the other room when you were trying to order and was faster than you.” He enveloped you in a hug whispering his thanks among all of the nasty things he planned for later to properly thank you, as he put it. 

Valter finishes opening the gifts from his family then it’s your turn. Being as you are a little nervous, you have a difficult time controlling your shaky hands. By the time you are done, you have a new phone case, new shoes, and of course Christmas decorations. You snuggle up with Valter while the rest of his family opens their presents. 

Eventually, all the gifts are open, many are sitting reveling in their new possessions. One of your traditions is to sit outside and enjoy the snow. You excuse yourself, grab your coat and head out to the backyard. It’s only just beginning to snow, sticking to the foot already on the ground. You find a chair under an awning untouched by snow. Sitting down, you block out anything that isn’t the flurries falling from the sky. 

You only move to go inside when your entire body is numb from the cold. Walking back into the living room, you notice a small gift still sitting under the tree. You inspect it unable to find a name. “We forgot one gift, but I can’t find who it belongs to.” You face them, holding it up, but not one person seems to know. 

“It’s for you,” Valter’s voice startles you from behind. 

“Why is it still under here?” You ask still focusing on the very small box. 

“Because I wanted to wait until the perfect moment.” 

“Perfect moment for what?” 

You turn towards him as he is getting down on one knee, “I have been thinking about this for months, but I didn’t want to scare you off. And with your love for Christmas, I thought tonight is a perfect time. We’ve only known each other for a year and the year has been so much better than I ever imagined.  I can’t envision my life without you in it. You’re the most kind, caring person I know. You encourage me to become a better man.  Y/N, will you marry me?” 

Shock courses throughout your entire body. You never an inkling he was going to propose. Valter isn’t the best at keeping secrets, however, he kept this secret as his life depended on it. Your entire relationship hastily runs through your mind; how picture-perfect everything seems, how Valter seems to even you out, and how you can’t envision your life without him. “Y/N?” Valter’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. You can hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Yes!Yes!Yes!” You can’t express the euphoria running through you. Tears start to form at the corner of your eyes. As Valter stands up and pulls you into a hug, Bill walks over and congratulates the two of you. The next few minutes are spent with congratulations from the family. The ring is simple, but elegant. A small heart shaped red jem with two small diamonds on either side. It’s better than anything you could have ever picked out. Eija jokes later on, she was the one who picked it out or otherwise Valter would have picked a boring ring, as she put it. You know no matter what style he picked out, you would love it. Hell He could have proposed with a ring pop and yes would have still been your answer. 

During the commotion, you don’t notice that Alexander disappears until he comes back into the room with bottles of champagne. “I think this calls for a toast!” He passes around glasses until all the adults have one. “To Valter and Y/N. May their journey be filled with bliss and laughter.” 

By midnight almost everyone has left to go home. Valter and you are some of the last ones to leave. You never in a million years thought this night would get better, however, Valter had one more surprise up his sleeve. 

When you arrive home, you see roses leading from the front door to the bedroom. The bedroom looks as if it is taken straight from a romantic comedy. Roses covered the bed spelling I Love You, candles are placed strategically, giving the room a nice glow. “When did you have time to do this?” 

“I bought all of this a couple of weeks ago. I had a friend come over and set it up while we were celebrating Christmas. I let him know when we were leaving so that he could light the candles.” 

“I can’t believe you did this. It looks like it could be out of a magazine.” You pull him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around his waist. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his arms holding you to him as if you’ll float away if he doesn’t. Valter pops more champagne which you failed to notice sitting off to the side. He also had an arrangement of chocolate-covered fruit. 

He then hands you another box, this one slightly bigger than the one for the ring. “What’s this?” 

“Open it.” In the box is a ruby red ornament with white writing simply stating ‘engaged.’ Tears begin to well up in your eyes. Nothing seems right to say, so you simply bring him in for another hug. 

The two of you spent the night celebrating one of the most significant events in your life so far. Valter kept his promise by properly thanking you over and over again.

[btsrmono]

Trial & Error | chapter 15

Main Pairing: (jimin): student/idol x (main): foreign student  

Side Pairs: main x (nct) jaehyun

PART 14

“You should be lucky that I’m gracing you with my presence.”

“You’re an asshole, Jimin.”

“And you’re jealous that my stories are better than—”

You quickly picked up a watermelon slice from the bowl near you and shoved it into his mouth, cutting him off, making everyone laugh. “Just chew, sweetie, chew.”

Jimin quickly obeyed—not because he wanted to but because he was tipsy and watermelon was his favorite snack when drinking, for some odd reason.

“That sure shut him up,” Mark chuckled from your couch.

You guys were a week into Winter break and your parents were finally out of the country so you were able to hold your sleepover. Initially, you had only invited Taehyung, Jimin, Jinsoul and Jaehyun but they all brought along some extra people. Jinsoul ended up bringing Heejin and Eunah, Jimin and Tae brought Jungkook and Jaehyun invited Mark, Johnny, Doyoung and Taeyong, though Mark and Taeyong made it known that they could only stay for a few hours.

Currently, Mark, Jaehyun and Doyoung sat comfortably on your couch, watching you and Jimin, whom were on the floor, Jimin’s head resting on your lap, bickering over ghost stories for the past twenty minutes. Taehyung, Jungkook, Johnny and Taeyong were standing up, playing a game of Darts that Jungkook brought over, and the girls were also sitting on the floor, smoking out of a dab pen that belonged to Eunah as music videos played on your hanging flatscreen.

“You guys wanna go to a karaoke lounge tomorrow?” Heejin asked, scrolling through her phone.

“Can’t, I’m broke as fuck,” Eunah spoke.

Heejin looked at her. “Well, I’ll pay, I was just asking if you all wanted to come.”

“I mean, I’ll go,” Jinsoul answered with a shrug.

“Ditto,” you followed.

“Where’s it at?” Johnny asked, still focused on the game. You were shocked they even heard you guys with all the noise they were making.

“In Gangnam, it’s called Cherry Split.”

“Sounds like the name of a strip club,” you chuckled out. Everyone laughed, agreeing with you.

“Well, are we all going to this ‘strip club’?” Heejin pressed, wanting an answer.

“We all kind of have a schedule tomorrow,” Johnny answered, referring to him and his members. “But we’ll probably be able to make it.”

“Yeah, it’d be dope,” Mark added, nodding his head.

“I really hope we can,” Doyoung chimed in, looking doubtful that they’d be able to.

“Bangtan?” you jokingly called the other boys, asking where they stood with this.

You felt Jimin giggle in your lap. “Don’t call us that.”

“Hell yeah, we’re going,” Jungkook said surely before Tae cut him off.

“We can’t, Jungkook.”

Jimin sighed, regretfully. “Yeah, we can’t. We have meetings and practice.”

You slightly pouted. Sometimes you hated having idol friends.

“Well, Johnny,” Heejin started. “Let me know before 2pm tomorrow so I can reserve a bigger room if so.”

He nodded his head before turning back to their game of Darts just as Jimin suddenly jerked his head. You looked down at him, asking what was wrong.

“Aish, there’s something in my eye.” He started to rub it, making his eye turn red.

“Jimin, don’t do that, you’re only making it worse!” you scolded him, gently grabbing onto his wrist in order to get him to stop.

“Okay but it hurts, y/n. Can you blow into it?”

Without hesitation, you told him to open his eyes wider with his fingers and began to blow.

“You might have to put water in it,” Doyoung suggested.

“Blow harder,” Jimin complained, almost in a whiny tone.

You couldn’t help but to laugh at the situation. “This sounds so wrong,” you chuckled.

“Just hurry up so I can stare at your face again,” Jimin joked, slurring his words.

Jinsoul scruned her face in disgust. “Ew, ok, I know you two are, like, besties but please go flirt somewhere else.”

As everyone but Jaehyun chuckled, you looked at Jinsoul sternly. “Stop it, we’re not flirting.”

“Coulda’ fooled me.”

You could see Mark trying to contain his laughter as he snuck small glares at a clearly annoyed Jaehyun.

You sighed, blowing one more time. “Is it better now?”

He nodded, a small grin appearing on his face. It was then, you took it upon yourself to stand up and walk over to Jaehyun, sitting on his lap as the others started a new conversation that you paid no mind to.

“What’s wrong?”

Jaehyun shook his head, looking at you. “Nothing, babe. Something seem wrong?”

“Yeah, you’re looking at me like I did something.”

Jaehyun looked away only to see Jinsoul shamelessly staring at the both of you and not breaking contact. “Can we go on your balcony for a sec?”

You nodded your head and stood up, leading you both outside to the deck. As he was behind you, he closed patio door to keep the others from hearing your conversation.

“Sorry about the Jimin thing,” you started.

He waved this off. “Don’t bother, there was nothing wrong with that, he’s just annoying me right now.”

You let out a breath of frustration, sick of them not being able to get along.

“Your friend is nosy, y/n.”

“My friend?” you chuckled, knowing he was referring to Jinsoul. “Our friend, and secondly, she’s not stupid, she’s gonna start asking questions... Should we just tell everyone?”

Yes, you and Jaehyun had a secret that you hadn’t told anybody yet. Just the other day, he officially became your boyfriend. You guys were just spending so much time together in such a short period of time, it had felt like you two had known each other forever. You were getting along so well and ended up developing quick feelings for each other.

It happened when you two were on a breakfast date at a lowkey cafe, eating fruit and crepes.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“I don’t wanna shoot you”, he joked.

“Jaehyun, if you don’t just ask the damn question, I’m gonna shoot you.”

Chuckling, he tilted his head as his ears began to turn a blush of pink. “Would it be weird if we started dating?”

“We are dating—”

“No, I mean dating. Like... you being my girlfriend dating.”

And of course you said yes. You liked him. A lot. You’d literally be stupid not to. But you still had yet to tell any of your friends and you knew you and Jaehyun would have to talk about how to break it to them.

“No, we can’t tell them.”

You were taken aback by his answer, wondering why he would want to keep your relationship a complete secret. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was embarrassed of you. Your thoughts must have been apparent because Jaehyun placed his palm on your face, stroking your cheek reassuringly.

“It’s not for the reasons that you think,” he informed you.

“Then... why.....” You were trying to understand him but you’d be lying if you didn’t feel at least a little sad.

He took in a breath, turning to the balcony railing and resting his elbows on them. “I know you don’t necessarily get it but it does have a lot to do with my career. I feel the need to be perfect all the time and I plan to keep it that way.. For now. I don’t want any ‘scandals’ at all and I don’t want people on the outside to know about my private life, especially the person that I’m dating. At least not until i know they’re the one.”

There was an awkward pause and it was then Jaehyun just realized how his wording sounded, making his eyes slightly widen. You chuckled at the cute face he was making.

“I mean, not that—”

You let out a chuckle. “No, I know. We’re still fresh, don’t sweat it.”

“And it’s not just about me,” he continued, “I have my members to think of too. I can’t jeopardize them for my own selfish reasons.”

You shook your head, knowing where he was going with this. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.”

“No, I do,” he replied, looking you in the eyes, seriously. “You’re my girlfriend and you one hundred percent deserve an explaination, baby.” He grabbed onto your waist, pulling you closer, making butterflies appear in your stomach. “It’s already obvious, we don’t need to confirm anything with them. They’ll know and that’s fine. Just don’t answer any questions.”

You were surprised that you weren’t as upset as you could have been but you knew better. You knew you were dating an idol and that this would be the reality of it. Oh, well.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he spoke softly. “You don’t have to be okay with this.”

You shook your head back and forth, letting the truth come out. “I’m not,” you admitted. “But I will be, it’s not that serious, Jae.”

“It’s not?”

You looked up from the ground to him, only to see him looking at you seriously. For some reason, this made you giggle, it’s what you did in awkward situations.

“No, baby.”

His grip on your hips loosened up as he let out a small breath. “Look, we don’t have to hide it, we just shouldn’t talk about it with other people.”

You pouted but nodded your head, understandingly. “That’s fine. It’s not like I’m dating you to show you off, I actually like you. It’s not about flaunting our relationship.”

This immediately put a huge grin on Jaehyun’s face and he, for some reason, started blushing just before throwing an arm around your neck and pulling you in for forehead kisses. You looked up, smiling at his dimpled face, attaching his lips to yours, giving him a quick peck.

Afterwards, he silently wrapped his arms around you in the attempt of a back hug. You knew you were about to have to go back in to join your friends so you were trying to soak up the alone time you were getting with Jaehyun.

You looked up into the sky, realizing how beautiful the night was. “Oh my god,” you spoke, “look at the moon.”

“Whoa, it’s huge.”

“Should we make a wish on it?”

You felt him giggle into your back. “On the moon, y/n? It’s not a wishing star.”

You shrugged, realizing he didn’t understand your intentions. “It doesn’t have to be, Jae, it’s all about manifestation when it comes down to it. The moon is very powerful when it comes to that. Especially a full moon.”

“Manifestation?”

“It’s a way of living. All you have to do is set a goal and believe in it. You don’t need a shooting star for a wish to come true.”

There was a pause and for a second, neither of you said anything. Jaehyun nuzzled his chin into the back of your head, kissing it. “There’s so much that I could learn from you, y/n.”

You quietly laughed to yourself, realizing that there really was. “There is,” you agreed. “Now, let’s make a wish.”

You both silently closed your eyes and mentally wished on the moon. You wished that you could continue to feel as happy as you did in that moment and that everything would fall into place for you and your friends. 

Jaehyun hummed and you figured he was done. “Ok, we should probably head back in before they get too suspicious,” you spoke.

“Ha, as if they're already not but yeah... We should.” He then released you and allowed you space to walk in first.

When you walked back in, the music wasn’t as loud as before and everyone was huddled around the dining room table, eating chicken and talking but their voices got weirdly quiet and hushed as you both approached them and they stole a few glances at y'all. 

You humphed awkwardly, wondering what that was about. “Why the sudden secretive behavior?” 

“We could ask you guys the same thing,” Taeyong joked. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jaehyun replied, playfully rolling his eyes. “Seriously, what are you guys talking about?”

“Well,” Jinsoul started, “Ais—”

“Dude, don’t tell him!” Johnny cut him off.

“He’s gonna find out eventually, Johnny,” she defended.

You looked at Jaehyun who was now looking utterly confused and lost. “Did someone die?”

Jungkook huffed, seeming annoyed with the back and forth. “It’s not that serious, it’s just that Aisha’s back.” 

The room quickly grew to a silence as Jaehyun froze and everyone stared at Junkook in annoyance. Either he was oblivious or he didn't care but all he did in response was shrug his shoulder and pick up another chicken wing before shoving it into his mouth, clearly unbothered.

All you could think about was why everyone was so scared to talk about this person. “Whose Aisha?”

“Another round of Darts?” Taehyung suggested.

They all jumped up from the table, running over to the wall where the game was. Everyone but Jimin and Jaehyun, that is. You heard them get loud again as they changed the topic, placing bets on which team would lose.

Yes, you were irritated with them ignoring your question but you accepted that they didn’t want to talk about it and decided to leave it alone. That being said, you turned to Jimin who didn’t look too good.

“Jimin, you okay?”

He shook his head no. You then placed the back of your hand on his cheek, then forehead to check his temperature. He wasn’t burning up but he was definitely warmer than usual.

“I don’t feel too good,” he groaned.

“Jimin, you only had three bottles of soju.”

He sucked his teeth. “I’m a lightweight, leave me alone.”

You laughed, telling him to stand up. He did as told and you let Jaehyun know that you’d be back. “Do you need help?” he asked.

“No, I got this, thanks though.”

You lifted Jimin from his seat to guide him into your room. He was pretty limp, which made it harder on you but you were still able to successfully get him tucked into your bed. He always took care of you when you needed, now it was your turn.

“I’ll be right back,” you told him. You ran to your kitchen pantry to grab a bottle of water and some advil then made your way back into the room only to see that Jimin knocked out that quickly.

You shook him lightly in attempt to wake him up. He fluttered his eyes opened, groaning. “Hun, there’s some pain medication and a water bottle right here if you need some,” you told him, pointing to your night stand that stood right next to your bed. “And there’s a trash can on the side if you feel like you’re gonna throw up. It’s okay if you miss but just try your best.”

He nodded his head, acknowledging you but too tired to do anything, he just went back to sleep. You left your room, closing your door behind you and went to join the rest of your friends in playing Darts.

Eventually, hours passed and you were all tired. Mark and Taeyong left because they all had a schedule in the early morning and wanted to get a head start when that time came. The rest of you guys buildt a bed on the living room floor out of blankets and pillows and you took your spot next to Jaehyun, drifiting peacefully asleep in his arms.

A/N: I’m so sorry if this felt so rushed, it’s bc it was 😭 I’ve been so so busy and exhausted and I finally got a tiny bit of time to throw this together, I wish this chapter was longer but I’ll make up for it next chapter, I promise. ❤️ Hope you enjoyed regardless!

CHAPTER 16

[ava-jones]

Jen and Ava have a duel

Practice challenge fic pt 2.5

Ava sighed as she walked towards the garden she had seen from her window. It was a little more put together than her wild gardens of Sumner, but it would do. 

She stepped out and looked at some of the flowers, it was quiet. She had never found a quiet place in Angeles as long as she had lived there. It was a nice change. She turned to walk down another path when she saw another selected. It took her a moment but she vaguely recognized her as Jen Li. She was one of the people on her managers "do not speak to" list. However, Ava really liked to stick it to her manager so she approached the lost in thought Jen. 

"Oh hey, sorry I didn't realize anyone was out here.” She apologized but secretly was hoping to make a friend here. This would be a very boring job if she was on her own all the time. 

Jen straightened and turned away from her, “It's okay. I'll just head in.”

Ava felt her older sister instincts kick in as Jen sounded troubled, “No wait, are you okay? You look a little uneasy. Not to like, pry or anything but I've been told I can lend a good ear.”

“No, I... It's just been a lot. They never let you have a moment to breathe.” She replied before mumbling something to herself. 

Ava couldn’t help but laugh. This was a place to breathe for her. It wasn't as free as Sumner, sure, but she didn’t have to deal with stalkers waiting outside her house, or cooperating with sleazy men, “Sorry, this has just been-like my vacation away from never being able to breathe. I don't know if you recognize me or know of me but I'm Ava Jones. My work keeps me pretty thrown around like this so I might have a few pointers if you'd like some?” She offered, sitting down on the bench next to Jen. 

“I mean, if you want to,” she responded before smirking, “and I like Friday.” She added. 

Ava rolled her eyes at the comment of her oldest song, “Thanks. It might be my greatest shame but at least I have the excuse of being 15 when I made it.” She then thought for a moment as she tried to find the right words for her advice. “Well for me, I generally find, like a - and please don’t think I'm an Angeles hipster for this- but a 'zen' place. Like I have a pretty big garden backyard because it makes me think of my garden at home in Sumner. So, for you what's a time or place where you just feel really at peace?”

She took a moment to think, “whenever I'm in my apartment and I'm completely immersed in an essay while my music plays on shuffle. I can just forget and focus on where I know I want to be.” Ava thought she sounded like a good potential friend.

“I get that. When I write a song I'm in a totally different place too. Wouldn't get essays though since I dropped out of high school.” Ava paused for a moment trying to find the next way to help her, “Do you have any topics of interest you'd be able to write on while here?” 

She laughed, “Maybe. You think they encourage individual thought here? Because I doubt they'd like my essays.”

“I mean I don’t think they've discouraged it. Whichever person marries the prince will end up queen so they probably want someone with a brain.” Ava thought out loud not really having considered the topic before. 

“A brain with only shared opinions maybe.” Jen half joked. 

“Well what ideas do you think they'd dislike of yours? You don't seem particularly threatening. I doubt you'd suggest whipping out a guillotine.” Ava added genuinely wondering what ideas she could have that would really be that out there. 

Jen laughed, “ You have no idea. What about you? Do you have any opinions you'd be admonished for?” 

She had to think for a moment as she hadn't really had a moment to consider anything but work since she was fifteen, “hmmm, I'm not really political. There are obvious things like women's equality, especially in the music industry. It's really shit right now. But other than that I can't really think of anything. Maybe an easier opportunity for caste growth? But i dont think I'd be hung and quartered for that.”  

“Maybe not. Some people might want you to be, but... Sorry, you said you don't care about politics,” she shrugged, “Guess someone like you wouldn't have to.” 

My eyebrows furrowed at her second comment, what did she mean someone like me? “I mean I don't not care, I just haven't really had the time to think. Also what's that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it's not like pop stars like you need to. People like you can get by because nothing affects you.” I was in shock for a moment. I grew up in a town of mostly 4s and lower. I was very aware of the effects of economic disparity and the flaws of illea. Just because I hadn’t considered them recently did not mean I was unaffected. 

“You literally just met me. You don't know the first thing about me. Jen Li, right?” I double checked, running through all of the info I knew about her. Maybe she had a family member who was an 8? No. Someone died of poverty? No.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“So in my line of work, I have to expect any questions in interviews and have answers prepared. Therefore, when the selected were announced I received basic information on each of the selected. What's your caste again?” I asked, knowing full well that she’s a three. A higher caste than I was for most of my life. 

“I'm a Three.”

“Mhm, and where do you go to school?”

“Something about the way you're speaking sounds like you already know.”

“Yeah but you don't seem to be aware of it. You go to Yale, an extremely expensive school, you're also a three, wealthy enough that they picked your caste for all selected to default to after elimination. So I'm really sure that the economic disparities of our country greatly affect you personally enough for you to have an opinion, whereas I clearly don't.” Ava huffed in anger and stood from the bench, “I'm not really a fan of close minded, wealthy hypocrites, I meet enough of them in my line of work, so I'll see you around.” Ava said, turning to leave. 

Jen yelled after her, “At least I do something with my privilege. Unlike you, I don't strut around on stage while being paid millions of dollars.” 

Ava turned around. She could yell how she’d fixed her family's farm, how she’d paid for the medical costs for Michael, how she kept everyone in her town fed and housed, how most of her money went to charity because she was very aware of the struggle around her as she had grown up in it. But she held her tongue, “You don't know the first thing about me, your assumptions show you as judgmental and arrogant. Add those to the list of reasons I'll be taking my leave.” 

Later that night Ava was enjoying a cup of tea in her room when Emily-Rose burst in sobbing. Ava and Emily weren’t really friends, but they did know each other so Emily must have come to her as her only friend here so far.

“What’s wrong?” Ava asked as she sat down her tea. Emily spent the next few hours crying and telling her how she had tried to befriend Jen. As soon as Jen came up she knew this would be bad. Emily being the blissfully ignorant girl that she is, brought macarons as a welcome gift for some of the girls, she was always so desperate for validation. Jen saw this as a display of wealth instead of an invitation of friendship and rejected it. Emily, never being raised around 6s handed the box off to the maid without speaking or looking at her. Enraged Jen stood from her bed and shoved the box back at Emily and told her she was being disrespectful to her maid. Emily was confused so she tried again and asked the made if she could throw away the box, an act that both would upset Jen as she was throwing away perfectly good food and not doing it herself- despite the fact that Jen had a maid and clearly was not doing somethings herself either, Jen called Emily a bitch and she ran off crying. After hours wondering what she did wrong Emily appeared at Ava’s door. She spent the next few hours crying in Ava’s bed until she tucked her in then stormed off to Jen’s room. 

She banged on the door, “Open this fucking door you shithead!”

Jen’s maid opened the door and looked horrified which caused Ava to feel a bit guilty about the late hour, “Oh sorry, I figured she would have dismissed you for the night.” She apologized. She would have waited for this, but she really would rather get over with her last time speaking to Jen Li. She walked in and walked over to her bed, “Wake up!”

Jen sat up and dismissed her maids question about calling security, “What do you want?”

“I have a question for you? Were you raised by bears? Do you have any idea how to be polite at all! I mean I was raised on a farm and I've seen pigs have better manners to do. What do you do when someone offers you a gift, Jen Li?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“I'm talking about Emily-Rose White and her dumbass macarons. Of course they're extra and yes she can be a little annoying. But when someone offers you a gift, the polite thing to do is to take it and move on even if you don't want it. The rude thing that you did do is refuse it adamantly, then even worse, all the person who gave you the gift a 'bitch' which by the way the use of that word is a whole other discussion.” 

Jen looked up in shock, “She treated my maid like a dog. I don't respect people who don't respect others, especially because of their caste.”

That’s rich (like Jen). Ava laughed before speaking again, “Well then you shouldn't respect yourself! You assumed that because I am a two that I am snobby and hoard money. I donate most of my money, I was born a four, and my closest friends who I live with are sevens. And yes Emily is spoiled, and I will speak to her about that, but escalating a situation by calling someone who is simply ignorant does not help anyone. You are arrogant and cruel and someone, unfortunately me, has to speak to you about that before you go making more well intended people cry themselves to sleep.”

“She's old enough to know better. None of us are children, and I'm not going to coddle a bunch of Twos just because they were raised that way. It's not an excuse to disrespect someone in a lower caste. I don't care about ignorance.”

“So instead of try to help and understand another person you'd rather call them a bitch and make things worse? And she's 19 and extremely sheltered, I wouldn't say she's gained the wisdom to know any better. Also no one is asking you to coddle all I'm asking is for you to be fucking polite. You didn't have to assume I knew nothing of economic struggle, you didn't have to shove Emily around, slam a box into her and call her a bitch. There is a difference between not tolerating disrespect and acting disrespectfully back at another person.”

“I didn't slam a box into her.” Ava rolled her eyes knowing that was untrue, 

“So you didn't shove a box of cookies at her repeatedly? Because at least she handed them to your maid.”

“You're making it sound like I assaulted her. She's the one who barged into my room without asking.”

“Oh okay so if someone comes into my room and gives off bad vibes, I can shove things at them and call them a bitch. It's perfectly polite and respectful?”

“That wasn't the reason I did it!” God arguing with her is like talking to a child Ava thought. 

“It doesn't really matter the reason you did it. Because again, there is a difference between not tolerating disrespect and being disrespectful. You could have said "Hey Emily, that wasn't right. I know you didn't grow up that way but maids are people and need recognition in order for it to be polite" Instead you shoved a box at her, she tried again not knowing any better then you called her a bitch. Which by the way the whole thing could have been avoided if you'd just taken the damn present like a sane well mannered person.” 

“Okay, whatever. I'm sorry. But maybe she should've tried dealing with her problems instead of running away like a child.” 

“Not everyone's a stone cold ass who can handle being treated the way you treated her. She apologized and has spent the last thirty minutes crying to me about how horrible she feels. You didn't allow her an opportunity to realize what she had done wrong before being an aggressor. And I'm not the one you need to apologize too I'm just the one who has to clean up your mess.” 

“Why don't you just go back to your adoring friend and mind your own business, Ava? Just because you're famous, doesn't mean I'm going to listen to you. Get over yourself.” Hah! She’s telling me to get over myself? Clearly she hasn’t heard a word that’s come out of her mouth. 

“It doesn't matter if I'm famous or not I'd be in this room yelling at you just the same. I'm not even really friends with Emily, I just don't tolerate people being cruel and disrespectful especially ones I have to live with. Just because you're a three doesn't mean you know everything and you need to start thinking from other people’s perspectives!” 

“I never claimed to know everything, and I do think from others' perspectives, but excuse me if I don't listen to just another privileged Two who got her little feelings hurt.” She probably has no friends.

“You don't need to listen to Emily. Emily doesn't want anything from you. You need to listen to me. Since apparently the only perspective you think you can understand are lower caste people, as I've lived as a four the majority of my life I can tell you, you're not listening to anyone, you're only looking through your perspective, and you're hurting well intending people because you're one of the most casteist people I've met. I've said all I need to say. Sleep well in your rich bed with your maid next to you miss I-hate-privileged-people-and-am-going-to-lash-out-at-them-because-clearly-I-don't know who I am!” 

Ava groaned and turned around slamming the door behind her. She went back to her room and threw herself down in a chair where she would be sleeping through the night and prayed that Jen would be gone soon or she would. 

[ladylynse]

Down the Rabbit Hole [FF | AO3] - a crossover fic featuring Over the Garden Wall, Trollhunters, Gravity Falls, and Danny Phantom 

Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room. Future fic/college AU (technically)

Hi, folks; if this looks familiar, it’s because it originated from a fic title ask--albeit now it’s expanded to a fourth fandom, which will become more important in the second part. Written into a full story for @lumanae. Happy New Year, everyone! 

Wirt stared.

It was his first week of college. His first week on campus, really, as he’d only moved in the day before term began. (He still had a couple of boxes on his desk to unpack.) He’d heard plenty of crazy stories, but that was to be expected. He’d already learned not to believe everything that came out of his roommate Toby’s mouth, just as he’d learned that he was to call Toby’s grandmother Nana whenever Toby honoured her request to drag him down for a weekend visit so she could get to know him.

Some classes had given general overviews for their first lecture, and the others had jumped right into it and he felt like he was already scrambling to catch up. Sometimes, he thought it was lucky he’d managed to make it to class on time, especially since he’d already gotten lost in the basement of the chemistry building looking for the place his biology lab would be held next week. Frankly, he was lucky that Toby had taken pity on him and given him the rundown on the best places on campus to get food and caffeine, not to mention showing him a couple of underground shortcuts he hadn’t even realized existed.

It had been a crash course, but he’d learned the ropes.

At least, he’d thought he had.

But that was before Toby’s friend Wendy ‘straight out of the wilds of Oregon’ Corduroy had smuggled an axe into their dorm room.

“That’s…that’s an actual axe,” Wirt said. He knew the door was closed, knew it was locked, knew no one could possibly walk in on them, but he managed to tear his eyes off the axe just long enough to check again anyway.

Wendy snorted. She was perched on Toby’s desk, already reaching into her pocket for a stick of gum. “It’s a hatchet, squirt. Which means it’s smaller and lighter than what you’re thinking of.”

“He’s not technically wrong, though,” Toby said. Wendy stuck her tongue out at him before popping the gum into her mouth.

Maybe he’d accidentally ended up bunking with a psychopath.

Toby picked up the hatchet and examined it. “It seems to be weighted well.”

Maybe he could ask for a room reassignment.

“Of course it’s weighted well. You met my family on moving day, Domzalski. I’d be disowned if I couldn’t pick out the best of the bunch.”

This was insane. That was a weapon. It wasn’t allowed. How had she even—!

“I’ll teach you guys how to throw it this weekend,” Wendy said. “It’ll take you a while to get the hang of it.”

“Eh, I figure I’ll pick it up quick,” Toby said with a smirk. “Wirt’s the one who’ll need to figure out the balance when throwing.”

He had no idea how he’d even gotten to be a part of this. Why had they involved him? This would make him an accomplice! Could he even report this without getting into trouble?

Did he want to risk it when his roommate had a hatchet and figured he already knew how to throw it? When he had a friend who definitely did know how to throw it?

“I…I don’t know if I really need to,” Wirt said slowly. “I mean, I’ve already gotten a bunch of readings and assignments—”

“Hey.” Wendy pointed at him. “Neither of you look like you could survive the apocalypse, okay? I just want to make sure my friends are safe if it happens.”

Toby laughed. “I don’t think zombies are what we need to worry about.”

Wendy shrugged. “I never said anything about zombies. But this stays between us. Meet me at my place Saturday morning. We’ll go out to the country for practice, just the three of us.”

“Um.” Wirt swallowed. “What about your roommate?”

“Jazz? I’m not worried about her. She might not look it, but that girl can handle herself. She just doesn’t know how to hide her weapons. You two, on the other hand….”

“Oh, come on, don’t lump me in with him,” Toby said, jabbing a thumb in Wirt’s direction. “I’d be way better in a fight.”

Even Jazz had weapons? That weren’t Wendy’s? He’d only met her for a few minutes when Toby had introduced him to Wendy, barely remembered what she looked like beyond the red hair, but she’d seemed nice. Stable. Unlike the people he was currently with.

“I’ll be the judge of that on Saturday.” Wendy hopped off the desk. “In the meantime, find a good hiding spot. Concealed but accessible. Sorry I’ve gotta cut and run, but I’m gonna be late for a library study session with my grade-obsessed roomie. Give it three weeks, and then it’ll get to her.” She unlocked the door and tossed a two-fingered salute at them over her shoulder. “Later.”

Wirt slowly sunk down onto his bed even as Toby crossed the floor to lock the door behind Wendy. “What…what are we going to do with that?”

Toby eyed the hatchet for a moment. “Drive some nails into the wall and hide it behind a poster between our beds?”

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s better than behind the dresser. Or under a bed or in one of the desk drawers. When you’re attacked, they don’t really give you time to grab your stuff.”

“Welcome to college, Wirt,” Wirt muttered. Louder, he said, “I don’t even have a hammer.”

Toby grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered.”

XXXXXX

Saturday was a disaster.

Wendy had had her truck packed by the time they got there, and by ten, Wirt had no idea where they were. After the hour drive and half hour hike, Wendy was setting up targets and Toby had the audacity to start humming.

Things got worse once Wendy’s lessons began.

Wirt couldn’t seem to hit a target. Any target. No matter how close he was. Well, fine, if he was really close, sometimes he could hit the target, but he couldn’t get anything to stick. Even if the hatchet miraculously hit blade first, he couldn’t get the angle right.

It took him six hours (not including their picnic lunch, courtesy of Wendy) to chip the corner of Wendy’s wooden target. His arm had been aching since the first hour, even when he’d started switching between his throwing arms and taking copious breaks. None of Wendy’s advice helped.

Toby, on the other hand, stuck a bullseye on his third try.

And then he just got more consistent.

“How are you good at this?” Wirt asked at one point.

Toby smirked. “I have many hidden talents.”

Somehow, that wasn’t comforting.

Wendy wound up giving Toby a passing grade, but on the drive home, she informed Wirt that he was slated for extra lessons. “You’re not dying on me,” she said when he tried to protest.

“Funny, I’d believe that more if you weren’t trying to kill me.”

She laughed. “Trust me, I’m not there yet.”

Yet?

“C’mon, I’ll train you,” Toby piped up, nudging him in the shoulder. The truck was only a three-seater, and Wirt was trapped in the middle. “We’ll get a dartboard or something and at least work on your aim. Totally innocuous stuff.”

“I see why you two get on so well,” Wirt grumbled. He had a feeling they wouldn’t let this drop. If that were a possibility, they wouldn’t have gone so far away to train. Or spent most of the daylight doing it.

He didn’t know why, but whatever this was, it wasn’t just some fad for them. Wendy seemed to genuinely believe she was helping, and Toby was too good to just be in it for kicks. He wouldn’t have minded the training, but it couldn’t just be for survival training. Actual survival training would involve more than how to throw a hatchet into a homemade target. He could handle the sewing part, but scavenging? He was little better than he’d been in the Unknown. He was better at playing a musical instrument than crafting something useful. He didn’t—

Seriously. Why were they both so chill about this whole apocalypse thing? Did they think it was a joke?

Maybe they were hazing him or something. That was a thing in college, wasn’t it? Something people did before you were officially accepted into whatever it was?

Maybe they hadn’t just met, either. Maybe they were actually long-time friends and saw him as a gullible target. And he couldn’t blame them. He’d fallen for a lot over the years.

But…this was kinda elaborate for a prank, wasn’t it?

It had to be a practical joke, though. There weren’t any other options. How could it not be a joke? This was the real world, not…whatever the Unknown had been. The apocalypse wasn’t actually going to happen. Not in his lifetime. Not unless the Powers that Be decided to fight each other, and he was pretty sure everyone valued their own lives too much for that to happen.

It was possible his new friends were conspiracy theorists, but….

No. More likely, he had an overactive imagination.

Way more likely.

An overactive imagination, and two new friends who were jokers.

Whatever. Greg would have an idea to get them back. He was better at that sort of thing. For now, Wirt was better off sitting back and trying to enjoy the ride.

XXXXXXXX

Wirt had no idea how Wendy had gotten a key to their place, but she wasn’t shy about using it.

To be fair, he hadn’t asked Toby if he knew, but he hadn’t wanted to in case he didn’t like the answer. He wasn’t entirely confident that Toby had procured it for her. He’d made the mistake of asking Wendy how she’d gotten it once, and she’d just smirked.

Ignorance seemed safer.

So when she waltzed in when he was trying to wrap his head around his calculus assignment, all he said was, “Toby’s in a bio lab till four and I don’t have time for extra practice.” It wasn’t worth commenting on the fact that he’d locked himself in in an effort to focus.

A futile one, apparently.

Wendy leaned against the edge of his desk. “You’re getting better, Wirt, but you’re not getting that much better. Do you and Toby even use that dartboard he bought?”

“He does,” Wirt mumbled.

Wendy hummed and picked up one of his assignments and started flipping through it. A month of telling her to stop hadn’t quelled her habit of snooping. Wirt figured it wasn’t worth fighting, that she probably would stop if she knew he was anything more than mildly annoyed, but— “Did you ever have to do derivatives?”

“I’m not here to crunch numbers,” Wendy said without looking up. She was frowning. “Wirt, is this an analogy for death?”

“Is what what?”

“This Unknown place you wrote about.”

Wirt froze. His creative writing assignment. He hadn’t realized that’s what she was looking at. He’d had a few assignments in the last few days that required him to hand in hard copies, but that—

“It’s pretty detailed. I didn’t know you could write like this.” The papers were tossed on top of his math book. “So, spill. Death? Limbo? Purgatory? Or just, like, a coming-of-age story dealing with responsibility and struggles and accepting certain things about yourself and whatever?”

There was a note in her voice he hadn’t heard before. Not desperation, nothing like that, but not joking, either. Not like he’d expect. But it was more than just curiosity. Harder. Like a command lay beneath it.

Wirt carefully flipped the papers back over and moved the assignment off to the side. “Honestly, I don’t even know,” he said. “I just wrote. And tried to stick a bunch of themes in there. It’s probably all of that stuff.”

She stared at him. Pursed her lips. Moved her gaze down to his math work. And then tapped the question he was working on in the textbook and said, “You copied that down wrong. It’s f double prime, not f prime. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

She was gone before he had a chance to ask her why she’d come in the first place.

XXXXXXX

Wirt was almost asleep when he heard, “So what’s the Unknown?”

He groaned. “I turned that assignment in two weeks ago. Can’t you guys give it a rest?”

“Maybe if you give me an answer. So sue me. Wendy’s got me curious.”

“I’d rather slug you,” Wirt muttered into his pillow, pulling his spare over his head. “Do we have to do this now?”

“It was pretty detailed. How’d you think of it?”

“I have a good imagination.”

A snort. “Huh, and here I thought you might’ve wandered into another dimension.”

Wirt was too tired to laugh. Too tired to pretend to laugh. “You done yet?”

“Almost. One of my friends is on break next week. They’ve got a reading week. She’s coming to visit. She can’t crash here, obviously, but Wendy and Jazz have a couch they said she could call home, so she’ll be around. A lot.”

“Great.”

“I just figured I should warn you.”

“Why would you need to warn me?” A heads up was fine, expected even, but warning? Toby didn’t use that word lightly.  

Toby didn’t answer, just mumbled a goodnight before creaking springs and rustling blankets meant he was rolling over and planning on not talking anymore.

Unfortunately, Wirt was already awake.

XXXXXXXX

When Wirt met Toby’s friend Claire, he understood why Toby got along so well with Wendy.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, very politely shaking his hand. And then, without missing a beat, she turned to Toby. “Why the hatchet behind the movie poster?”

She’d been in their dorm room a grand total of two and a half minutes, tops. Just long enough to finish the introductions. It’s not like the hatchet was that visible; it had taken them forever to hide it beneath the poster so that it couldn’t be seen, and no one else who had stopped by their room had ever commented on it. So how come she’d managed to spot it so quickly?

She wouldn’t be asking Toby about the hatchet if she’d known where it was, not unless he’d been putting her off until she came in person, but what kind of sense did that make?

Toby grinned. “Insurance,” he said. “Y’know. In case of monsters.”

Claire’s eyebrows rose, and her eyes flicked towards Toby’s desk and then to Wirt before finding Toby again. “Monsters,” she repeated. “Right.”

She didn’t sound skeptical, like a normal person. She…she almost sounded resigned.

“Does it at least have good balance? It’s weighted well?”

Really, it made instant sense that Toby was friends with Claire and Wendy.

Maybe Toby had at least told her to look for something hidden in their room, if not that it was a hatchet. Or maybe he hadn’t told her where it was, just that they had a hatchet in the first place. Maybe she hadn’t just walked in and spotted their secret instantly, without even knowing they were hiding one.

Toby made an exaggerated gesture towards the hidden hatchet. “See for yourself, señorita.”

Claire’s exclamation of delight as she handled the weapon—and, more to the point, the ease with which she wielded it—made Wirt think Toby’s warning hadn’t been entirely unfounded.

XXXXXXXX

Toby and Claire didn’t spend much time in the dorm room after all, but Wirt didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that the two kept talking about something and didn’t want to say too much around him. All he understood was that it involved someone else named Jim—likely as not, the third in the high school photo Toby had taped above his desk. Considering the only others up there was one of his nana with her cat and one of him with Wirt and Wendy, it seemed a safe enough bet.

They talked about a few other people, but most of those were by some nickname. More to the point, they were nicknames he didn’t recognize, so even if Toby had told him about these people, he couldn’t piece it together. (Though he had no idea how someone got to be named Blinky, Not-Enrique had to be some inside joke. Maybe he looked like someone named Enrique and kept getting mistaken for him by people who only knew Enrique?) Anyway, it was too hard to keep them straight when he wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping in the first place.

It wasn’t until Claire was actually gone that Wirt finally worked up the courage to ask Toby about the stuff he’d heard. “Is your friend in trouble?”

“Claire?” Toby spun his desk chair around to face Wirt, who was sitting on his bed. “She’s always in trouble. Mostly because she’s helping other people out of it.”

“No, the other one. Jim. I heard you guys talk about him, and you sounded worried.”

Toby blew out a breath. “That’s complicated. Claire’s going to keep me posted. Right now, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Wirt smirked. “So not the start of the apocalypse?”

“Not yet, anyway.”

“Great. Means I can actually focus on my last couple of midterms.” He knew Toby’s were over—at least, his first round was; he had a few classes that had two midterms—which was probably the only reason he’d survived Claire’s visit when most others were studying.

It was funny, though. He’d have figured, if Claire’s college did have a reading week in the fall, that it would be after midterms, but this was the middle of October. It was prime midterm season.

“Hey, uh, where’s Claire study, anyway? I don’t remember.”

“She’s in New Jersey. Small place. You won’t have heard of it. I never had.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Try me.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “Heartstone. Happy? Anyway, since you apparently don’t acknowledge your text messages, Wendy said to give you a heads up that she’s got a couple friends coming to town for a few days, too. High schoolers scouting out potential colleges, including our stomping ground. She wants to know if we can meet them for supper at some point.”

Toby was right—he hadn’t heard of Heartstone—but the subject change gave Wirt pause. Toby was usually happy to talk about his other friends. Honestly, he was usually happy to talk about anything. Especially when it was an excuse to procrastinate on his homework.

Wirt decided to ignore it for now and gave a shrug. “Any day should work for me. Next week’s pretty open. Mostly just writing papers.”

“Awesome. It should be good. From what she tells me about them, you’ll love them.”

“I’m sure I will.”

XXXXXXXX

The Pines twins didn’t fit Wirt’s idea of normal, either. He was beginning to doubt that anyone his roommate (or his friends) knew ever would. It wasn’t Mabel’s love of homemade sweaters or the way Dipper almost immediately asked him about the Unknown (why had Wendy told him about an old assignment, anyway?) when they met up at the restaurant just off campus. It wasn’t the way they sometimes finished each other’s sentences, either, because judging by their grins, they were hamming it up for his and Toby’s sake. It was more….

Well, it was the fact that when the subject somehow turned to cryptozoology, they knew a lot.

Even Toby looked surprised, though in all fairness, he looked happy about it. And some of his questions were…oddly specific. The twins looked delighted. Wendy was just smirking as if this was going exactly as she’d expected.

Wirt had hoped the conversation would change when Jazz joined them for dessert, but it just made things worse. She wasn’t so much skeptical of their stories as she was analytical. Like she wanted to learn as much as possible even though none of it was real. She kept asking questions. And no matter what she asked, they had answers—Dipper especially.

Wendy had given him a playful nudge when she’d finally interrupted to bring up demons. Dipper’s face darkened, like he wished she’d left well enough alone, but he and Mabel were able to spin yet another tale. Jazz looked delighted. Wirt couldn’t remember if she’d brought up alternate dimensions or if it had been Toby, but that had easily been a half hour tangent. Wirt had no idea how they came up with these things. Sure, the Unknown had been real, or at least as real as it could be, but it’s not like pocket dimensions or doors to other worlds existed all over the place. The twins’ stories were obviously fabrications even if they purposefully didn’t frame them like that, and Toby and Jazz and Wendy loved playing along—to the point that they’d keep asking his opinion on things even when he didn’t try to join the conversation.

But seriously. If gnomes were actually real, they wouldn’t vomit rainbows. That just…. It didn’t make sense. Rainbows were just light broken into the visible spectrum. If that light had no reason to refract and disperse in the first place—

He was thinking too much about this.

Just like he had about things in the Unknown.

At least these things were just stories.

XXXXXX

Wirt found the sheets detailing exorcisms—both ghostly and demonic—mixed in with his schoolwork that night. He didn’t recognize the handwriting—any of the handwriting, since it looked to be done by three different people—but the top piece of paper was addressed to him. Wirt, hope this helps. It was in the same hand as the majority of the notes.

Dipper’s, maybe. He’d talked more details than Mabel. And Wendy could’ve easily slipped the papers into his room since she had a key. He wasn’t sure about the third hand. Mabel had mentioned their grunkles, but he’d gotten the impression they were travelling somewhere. But considering the tiny, careful details that supplemented the first set of notes on the ghost section….

Was this why Jazz had had weapons?

Was it actually possible that Wendy had managed to wind up rooming with someone as crazy as she was in her own way? Someone who believed whatever story Wendy had fed her and didn’t find it weird to be asked to write up what was very likely pseudoscience at best? He’d thought Jazz’s major was something like psychology, but maybe….

Wirt flipped through the pages. One of them was definitely written mostly in Latin. Another was covered in a language he didn’t recognize at all, which is probably why the phonetic pronunciation was written in brackets behind every sentence. Another was English but filled with words he didn’t know.

He wondered what the heck he’d gotten himself into.

Maybe he should transfer somewhere else. Or at least put in for a different roommate for next term. Distance would help, wouldn’t it?

Except, insane as it sounded, insane as the situation was, it seemed like his friends were just trying to help him. Maybe Wendy really had realized the truth of what he’d written up for his English assignment. Maybe that’s why she wouldn’t let him get away with waving it off.

But if she didn’t just believe it was real because she apparently seemed to believe everything like it was real, what was her story? And Toby’s, since he was the same way? Claire’s? Mabel and Dipper’s? Even Jazz’s?

“They have to have just been telling stories,” Wirt said aloud.

But Toby wasn’t around to reassure him, and he couldn’t quite convince himself.

XXXXX

It was past midnight some weeks later when Wirt saw the…creature.

He woke shivering, pulling the blankets around him, and then he realized that the draft from the window above his bed was stronger than usual. It wasn’t whistling like it did when the wind was from the north, and it wasn’t like Toby to accidentally leave it open.

He was about to sit up to double check when something moved, momentarily blocking the light as it squeezed inside.

Wirt was too terrified to breathe. He knew it couldn’t be the Beast; if nothing else, it was far too small to be the Beast if it could fit through the window so easily. It could have torn through the screen, but he hadn’t heard breaking glass. It must be dexterous enough to have pried the window open.

It was too dark to make out details when the thing moved so fast. It was small. Dark and muddied in the dim light—green, maybe, or blue or brown or even grey—but either with distinct markings or wearing something a little bit lighter, too. Whatever it was, it scampered across the wall on all fours, not seeming to see him. At least, if it did, and if it noticed he was awake, it didn’t do anything. It just dropped something on Toby’s bed, on the pillow he hadn’t drooled all over, and then let out something that was either an honest-to-goodness laugh or a freaky, growling call. It dropped the floor between their beds but was gone when Wirt blinked again, before he ever got a better look at it.

The light was blocked off again.

He heard a snap.

Then a creak.

Then the light was back, illuminating what might be…paper? A note? If it hadn’t still been on Toby’s pillow, Wirt would have thought it was a dream.

That morning, Wirt pretended not to see Toby scoop up the crumpled note without a word. Toby didn’t read it, didn’t even acknowledge its existence, and Wirt wondered if this had happened before. If he’d just never noticed until now.

If this wasn’t the first time, what else had he never noticed before?

When Toby headed off to class, Wirt stayed behind. He was supposed to be in English right now, but he couldn’t….

That wasn’t important right now.

One missed class wouldn’t ruin his grade.

Whatever this was, on the other hand….

The screen on the window hadn’t been torn; the frame was a little bent, but it was hardly noticeable. There were no telltale gouges or anything of the sort. The window, as per usual, didn’t quite close, but honestly, Wirt couldn’t remember if it ever had. Now, he was left wondering if this was why.

Wirt pulled down one of the notebooks from the shelf mounted above his desk, pulled out the loose-leaf sheets he’d stuffed inside, took a closer look at the notes on exorcisms he hadn’t thrown out like he should have.

Next or see more fics

[real-fakedoors]

You must have gotten this question a lot but... how did you get the idea for star-crossed? And how’d you develop the world? I was really inspired by how you detailed your story to create such an amazing image for us readers of the world; especially when it got down to politics, the watches, characterizations and the planets-turned-countries. I’m currently writing (or trying to write) a book of my own, and I’ve been struggling with how to incorporate those kind of details. Do you have any advice?

hello & thank you for the ask! what a wonderful question, and an even more glowing compliment!! my heart is so full :,)

it’s a mixture of a few things, and I’m happy to break it down further if you’d like, but allow me to lay out my basic approach to writing in general & this fic specifically. I’ll try to address each question the best I can!

1. Ideas born from ideas

Music - I’m one of those people who draw on other sources of inspiration – especially music. All three of my most popular stories were at least first thought of by songs. (star-crossed was inspired by Constellations by The Oh Hellos).

Reference material/research - I’ve tried to be as explicit as possible in star-crossed when I describe/utilize the design of another creator for the basis of my work (like all of Lance’s pretty outfits), but in general, having reference material is the MOST IMPORTANT thing. I’ve done a ton of research on medieval culture, cuisine, buildings, and courts. A good example of this is from Chapter 16: The Prisoner’s Dilemma, I had no freakin’ idea how to describe a battlement, or what that even was – hence me googling “what is the top of a castle wall called” > they’re called battlements, got it! > google image, battelments 

There, I found this:

and from that, I wrote this:

Quietly, they climbed until the highest reaches opened around them, a large plane of dark stone, stained by ombre rust to near-black on opposing ends of the terrace. A very small amount of snow had gathered, but most of it had blown away in the wind –  some small catches had gathered in pockets of shade, where the perimeter wall was buttressed by columns of scaffolding that each came to a point. They were massive structures, like stone arrows pointing towards the heavens; vaguely, Lance remembered one of his mother’s stories about a fletcher’s workshop for the gods; the sweep magnificence of the architecture, certainly lent itself to a sense of the divine and otherworldly greatness.

Linear plot - In terms of figuring out what I want to accomplish in the story, and in the chapters, I quite literally depend on my notes. I tend to get over-eager and want to do a lot in one chapter, so I force myself to map things out in accordance to time rather than events, and that helps me maintain something of a regular pace.

There are a few things I knew I had to have happen in the story, and some of it filled in naturally as I began writing. Here’s a picture of my office from the week I began writing star-crossed.

(the text on the sticky notes doesn’t really matter; but pink are plot points and yellow are narrative themes)

If you squint – an example – Tuesday was supposed to be the day of the bombing, originally. All of the tension and build up and worries about the murder plot were never actually going to happen, as it was going to be wrong-place/wrong-time as a bomb went off in the city. Lance was always intended to get caught up in it instead of Keith as the target, but that obviously didn’t end up happening.

Why? As I wrote the beginning chapters, I had to remind myself that Keith is the Prince of Marmora, of which their expertise is spy networks and information. It didn’t seem feasible to me that such a large scale attack could occur in Marmora without the Blade knowing about it, which is why the attention ended up shifting towards the ball specifically.

Prompts - I am also of the belief that there is no reason to reinvent the wheel. There are wonderful, wonderful authors and writers out there who generate material specifically designed to help writers kickstart ideas; I collected a huge Google Doc of these when I first started star-crossed just to keep my head in accordance with the right themes. Rarely do I use a prompt word-for-word because they never really fit exactly what I’m writing, but the tone of the language often helps me in moments when I’m stuck. Here’s a sampling (and I am sorry, I didn’t think to mark the original blogs I took these from:

“The world was in flames. People were in need of laughter.”

“The world was in flames” helped me to derive some of the terrible disaster that came on the third night of the ball. I just really like that visual, so much orange and red light, and the unbearable heat.

“You can feel the world blooming and withering around you while you’re in prison.”

This sort of… live-and-die, questioning mortality thing, while in “prison” helped me to build Lance’s internal monologue while he was in the cellar.

“If I ignored destiny, so can you.”

Because Klance.

“I was waiting for a chance to ask you to dance with me, but you were gone.”

A knife-twist of how, though this was loosely inspired by the premise of Cinderella, Keith only got to ask Lance to dance twice over the course of three days – in part because Lance was always gone or with someone else, but also because Keith was equally tied up in the expectation that he was to dance with anyone who asked him.

The watches - That was my hope of tying in the paladin’s bayard. It was theoretically impossible to have a magical weapon appear in the hands of four teenagers and an adult without it raising many conspicuous questions, so I needed something a little more subtle. There’s still some… [redacted] about time that has to [redacted] before [redacted] can [redacted], so I can’t say much more than that. :,)

Pomp, Circumstance & Politics (oh my!) - okay, sorry, I couldn’t resist. heh. but, yeah, I don’t know if I can point to one specific thing in particular that gave rise to the political quagmire of this story. It’s definitely been inspired by an array of existing media – Downton Abbey certainly helped shape the “upper class” vs. “lower class” treatment. I also really enjoy historical readings. fiction or nonfiction, pertaining to wars: Ken Burn’s Vietnam War, for instance, helped remind me of the massive impact the decisions of few can have on the many. Whether or not you support a war, or a policy in Marmora’s case, can have devastating after-effects for the people beneath you. Keith and Krolia happen to be very conscious of this. But even so, there will always be a level of detachment from their view of the “many” (in which Lance, Hunk and Pidge fall), and this is never so apparent as when things are told from Lance’s POV. He’s just another person. He’s just one person. One of the hundred of thousands that would be effected by the daily decisions of Keith or Krolia, and it is that constant tension between “big picture” and “small picture” that I try to draw out in the on-going struggles had by the characters.

2. For me, the character’s are the world. 

That’s not me being poetic or anything – let me explain.

Imagine this: Suppose there is a person who has been devoid of all of their senses, all of their life – no touch, no smell, no hearing – nothing. Then suppose, one day, they are shaken from this catatonic state for the first time. Their senses now free, how would they experience this scene I am writing? What is so prevailing to the senses that it demands to be included in the narrative?

That is how I write my my worlds, at least descriptively. I try to pick out a few key things someone wouldn’t be able to help but notice.

This is great for characterization, too, because I can tweak the premise of the “feelingless individual” to suit how I imagine my characters. 

Keith, for example, from star-crossed – a few things I keep in mind when writing him: he is constantly frustrated by his inability to act on his impulses, so when he does it is extra satisfying. He’s keenly aware of the mannerism of others because of his upbringing in the court – if they have a weapon on their hip, for instance, is something he would notice in a heartbeat.

There were certain ticks to look for in a person trying to get too close: the ways their eyes moved, where their hands sat, what sort of clothing they wore. Was it something trim and fitted to make for an easy escape, or something bulky with a dozen pockets to hide any manner of weapon? Were those chemical burns on their hands from working with unstable materials? Did they look restless, liked they’d been up all night debating with themselves to go through with such a monumental act?

Maybe it was just learned paranoia, but these were the small enough traits that most people wouldn’t notice.

Keith, however, was trained to notice.

Lance, on the other hand, is a little more indulgent but easily overwhelmed; he has been restricted his whole life, so he indulges often and easily, but that puts him in a vulnerable position that can (and has) left him open to being hurt by the world around him. He’s one who is going to notice the weather, the quality of the air, because those were things that held meaning to him when he lived in the mountains – he’s one to fixate on his own mistakes, because he’s used to them being pointed out to him.

Lotor wanted to take off his mask so it was one less thing getting in the way, an obstruction to peeling back Lance’s sense of self, his ideas and interests and beliefs balled up in and thrown in a bin, along with his name and his past, so that he could be some fucked up little prize for the guy’s own enjoyment.

The fucking betrayal of his own body, too. The flushed cheeks, the friction of his hips over Lotor’s… ugh. It wasn’t —  he didn’t want it, it didn’t feel good, but the physical sensation was demanding and his body literally could not do anything but respond, and the memory of that alone was enough to have him clutching his head between his knees, legs drawn up to his chest.

Why was this so confusing? It shouldn’t be, and that only made Lance more frustrated. Lotor was a selfish asshole who tried to use his title to his advantage and force Lance to do things he didn’t want to do. Lance had even succeeded in pushing him away and standing up for himself, but the triumph was bittersweet.

This mindset was especially critical when writing Chapter 14: Twenty-Six Hours, because it was the first time we delved into the consciousnesses of the other characters! (I’m just really happy with the way that one turned out *sob*)

Also, a note on villany: I really dislike one dimensional villains. I prefer when my evil comes with a healthy dose of “fuck I sort of agree with that… to an extent?”

Which is why writing Lotor’s big monologue in Chapter 16: The Prisoner’s Dileema was such a challenge. I had to make his treatment of Lance seem, in some fucked up version of reality, justifiable. Because really, Lotor is a product of circumstance; he was raised with his beliefs of the poor and especially of someone of Lance’s “status,” and was acting in such a way that reflected that up-bringing. Now, Keith was raised in similar circumstances and isn’t a huge piece of shit, so there’s no excuse for Lotor’s behavior – but it’s at least logical. You can imagine buying an ox that’s for sale at the market, and then using said ox to plow your fields; we don’t see that as cruel or as mistreatment. Lotor sees Lance as little more than that, and so, in giving him lots of attention and “validation” (something that we know canon-Lotor was unfortunately lacking), it stands to reason that he was in fact trying to be kind to Lance, to treat him with a warped sense of respect.

…okay, that’s all for now! I really hope this helps and wasn’t too long-winded, like everything I do. you’ve effectively made my morning, anon, and I hope you have a wonderful day. my best wishes and luck to you while writing you story! 

[ingridgovaninsights]

The Elliott Chapters- Part 3

Victoria and I lived in the basement of a bungalow on the south side of town. It was kind of a trashy area to live, honestly, but we couldn’t afford much else. And I knew one thing for sure- I wasn’t going to live at home if I had any other option. 

It was the kind of neighborhood where the prostitutes hung out one street over; drug deals went on around the clock; and couples would often be shouting obscenities at one another from their balconies. It didn’t bother me as much as it saddened me to see people living in such conditions. I think a lot of people would turn their noses up at it without a second thought, thinking they’d never live there- but these folks were people, too. They just had vastly different lifestyles. And don’t we all?

One of the main reasons we couldn’t afford more than what we had was because Victoria couldn’t hold down a job for more than a few months. Her not taking her medication could be a contributing factor, but anytime I mentioned medication to her she got incredibly angry and offended.

“It’s my own choice,” she would say. “My own free will. It’s a free country, Elliott!”

I always rolled my eyes at this; yes, it was a free country. You were technically allowed to do or not do lots of things. No one can force you to get a job, for instance, but that doesn’t make it a good idea…

Victoria has had maybe five or six jobs over the course of six months. That’s a different job every month. She will go through periods of time, usually lasting one or two weeks, where she feels really irritable and depressed, not really interested in doing anything. This is when it’s most difficult for her to keep a job- and often, she wouldn’t even go in for her shifts, or she’d show up hours late. This would cycle into a “high” state- not necessarily happy but “high”- where Victoria would have significantly more energy… she will barely sleep; she will be at her most confident; she will go out for days at a time, partying and shopping with her friends, spending money she doesn’t have. These are all classic symptoms that go with bipolar disorder- when Victoria informed me of this I knew what I was getting into. I do lots of reading. But I didn’t know she would choose to be so irresponsible about her treatment. It’s something I just can’t understand- if you are struggling with something and there is an option out there that will help you, why would you choose to not take it? Stubbornness? Pride?

I didn’t like to make conditions or ultimatums. Victoria did it all the time with me, and a firm one she had was that I wasn’t to see or talk to Charlotte (sound familiar?). I really didn’t want to act in the same way that I hated so much… but I didn’t see another option.

That morning, I stepped out of our bedroom, doing a big stretch. I had been awoken by a cluster of loud noise. Victoria was sitting at the kitchen table, blasting Guns N Roses, yelling out the lyrics to Paradise City while rolling a joint. What the actual fuck? It was six thirty in the morning.

“Victoria,” I said calmly.

She was bobbing her head to the music, completely oblivious to the fact that I’d come out of our room. Funny enough, what bothered me the most about the whole image was that she had a mug of coffee just sitting right on the table, just like that, sitting directly on the wood. She hadn’t even bothered with a coaster, and we’d discussed it many times how not using a coaster will leave a ring. It wasn’t her furniture, it was my parents’ old furniture- some of it was quite expensive and sentimental. Sure, the music was annoying, and I’d rather she not smoke in the house, but I was mostly irked by the fact that she had absolutely no respect for the things that mattered most to me.

“So faaaaaaaaarrrrr awaaaaayyyy,” she sang loudly, “so faaaaarrrr awaaaayyy…”

“Victoria!” I yelled.

I shook my head, marched over to the stereo and shut the whole thing off. She stared at me, completely dazed, as if she couldn’t understand what was the matter. Yeah, what would be wrong with blasting Guns N Roses at six thirty on a Saturday morning, rolling joints in a non-smoking apartment and savagely leaving rings on the kitchen table? I have no idea.

“You are so fucking far away,” I mumbled. “So far away from reality. Victoria, I’m trying to get your attention and you’re just off in a distant land.”

Victoria shrugged. “Music was too loud.”

“Clearly. Okay, we need to talk.”

I took a seat across from her, watching her sift through piles of junk on the table to find a lighter. She finally found one and lit up her joint. Boldly, she offered me a puff. That was fucking bold, all right. Was she trying to get on my nerves? I didn’t smoke, our building had a strict no smoking policy, and she knew this very well. Perhaps she just didn’t care.

“What do you think?” I said.

“What?”

“Do you really think I want to smoke right now?” I asked.

Victoria shrugged. “Just trying to be nice.”

“No,” I said, trying to stay calm, “you’re not trying to be nice. Far from it. I really feel like you don’t respect me nearly as much as I respect you.”

“You respect me?” Victoria was astounded by this. “Sure doesn’t seem like it. You treat me like a child, always hassling me about finding a job and taking my meds.”

“Yes, because you have so much potential!” I shouted. I couldn’t help it. “Victoria, I’m with you for a reason. I know what you’re capable of, but you don’t use it. I have seen the way you are on medication, and that one really works for you. There shouldn’t be any shame in using medication, love. I take meds, too.”

“I’m not ashamed,” she scoffed. “I just don’t need it.”

I just needed to say it. It wasn’t like me to make conditions, but perhaps sometimes it was necessary. If she didn’t like it, she could leave. But I couldn’t live this way anymore.

“I say this in the nicest way possible. Victoria, I need you to start taking your medication. I’m sorry to have to make this into an ultimatum, but this is what it’s come to. This is getting pretty ridiculous now and it’s not good for either of us. If you take your medication, great. If you continue to choose not to take it, I’m sorry but I’m gone.”

Victoria gave me the saddest puppy-dog eyes, and I wanted so badly to take back what I said but I had to stand firm with my decision. Not many people were capable of making me sway, but Victoria was often one of the few that could. Not this time.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, and as I got up, I picked up her coffee mug and set it down on a coaster.

***

As it so often happens after our fights, Victoria was good for about a week, taking her medication every day and right on time. She applied for a few jobs and she even helped tidy up around the apartment. We even discussed wedding plans a little bit. But the catch was, after that wonderful week, she went back to her old ways. There was a very obvious trend.

I sat on the couch in our living room, legs crossed, skimming through a newspaper as I so often did in the mornings. I sipped a black coffee because we were all out of cream, and it didn’t really matter so long as I was drinking coffee. Reading actual, physical newspapers seemed to be a thing of the past, but I still did it religiously. It was somewhat comforting to be holding paper in my hands for a change, rather than a smartphone- oddly enough I enjoyed how the tips of my fingers turned black from the ink.

I didn’t work today- I decided to take the day off. Why? Because I felt like it. Some people say I work too much, but I work so much so that I earn the right to relax when I want. No one could argue with me when I say I want a day off, because I worked harder than everyone there, and they knew if they pulled that shit with me I’d be gone like that.

So usually if I worked, I would be out in the living room reading my paper at 6 A.M., give myself about a half hour with my reading and coffee, then shower and brush my teeth and be out the door by 7 A.M., giving myself another half an hour for the commute, so I would arrive at work between 7:30-7:34 A.M. depending on traffic. I worked at 8 A.M. so this meant I had time to get settled and show everyone I was dependable and ready for the day. Any interruptions to my routine had me in a terrible mood- I did everything in my power to avoid that, though. Weekends and days off were a bit more lax, but I liked to stay within certain parameters.  

Since today was a day off for me, I read my paper a little later, 9 A.M., allowing myself to sleep in- yes, that was sleeping in for me. As I got older I grew more okay with the fact that sometimes routines can slip a little bit if you are having a relaxed day, so on days off I cut myself that slack a bit. I told myself to take some extra time enjoying the paper, because I had nowhere to be, but I found myself getting anxious and fidgety. Finally I got up and started pacing around, wondering if I should just go into work.

10 A.M. rolled around and Victoria moseyed on out of bed, her hair a mess and lines across her face from sleeping so hard. Almost immediately, she walked over to the kitchen table and started rolling a joint. I stared at her, appalled.

“Victoria, are you going to at least smoke that outside?” I asked. “Go out back or something? We can’t smoke in the house.”

She shrugged. “What’s the point? Not like the landlords come by anyways. How would they even find out?”

I could feel myself getting angry, but I told myself I needed to calm down. I was already on edge from having my routine a little out of whack, and this was probably the last thing I needed- a pointless argument.

“What do you mean, what’s the point?” I said a little too loudly. “Victoria, you were doing so well… are you still taking your medication?”

“Yeah, of course,” Victoria mumbled, avoiding my gaze.

I shook my head, reaching for her pill bottle and unscrewing the lid. I tipped it upside down, pills spilling out across the table.

“You had twenty-five yesterday,” I announced. I started to count.

“Why are you such a loser?” Victoria screamed, jumping up out of her seat and trying to pull my hands away from counting. “Who the fuck counts their partner’s pills? You’re a psycho!”

“Uh-huh,” I said, “don’t make me lose count.”

Victoria was fuming. She paced back and forth in the kitchen, then stopped and stared at the cupboards, as if considering something. She then opened up the cupboard, grabbed a coffee mug, and whipped it against the wall. Ceramic pieces flew to the floor, but I didn’t flinch. I counted until I was done.

Twenty-five.

I calmly looked up at her, and I said “you need to leave now.”

“What? Are you kidding me?” Victoria threw her arms up in the air. “Elliott, you can’t just kick me out, this is our home, not just yours!”

“It is my name on the lease,” I said slowly. “And I made myself very clear that if you weren’t going to take your medication, this is over. I can’t enable this anymore. You’re hurting me, and more importantly you’re hurting yourself.”

“It’s really cold of you to just fucking kick me out,” she mumbled. “Where do you expect me to go? Huh?”

“You have lots of close friends,” I said. “Your mother has said you are always welcome at her house. If you had nowhere to go I wouldn’t simply toss you out, Victoria. You know that. But I know very well you have options.”

“You’re so selfish,” Victoria was fuming.

“I’m selfish?” I repeated. “Yeah, right. I have done so much for you. But I don’t want to argue this. You need to leave now. Pack up your things and leave, please.”

Victoria started chucking more coffee mugs, but none of this surprised me. The behaviour wasn’t new; sadly enough, even some of the worst behaviours we can become accustomed to.

“If you continue to react in a physically threatening way, I will contact the police,” I said, as if rehearsing a script I’d been practicing for months- it just came naturally to me now.

For once, I think this may have scared her. She stopped and stood for a moment, frozen. Then, her face void of any emotion, she gathered up a bundle of her clothes, threw them into a backpack and made her way out the door, without so much as a glance back.