#& HOW have i managed to lose my bus card TWICE in the year and a half since i moved to ottawa

[chrismcshell]

was going to go out and do something fun tonight but my bus fare card has disappeared so i guess i'll just die instead

[uservillanelle]

Killing Eve ― 3x07 (Review)

Here we are. Already about to write a review to the second last episode of Killing Eve (Season 3). Not gonna lie.. I’m already having this bittersweet feeling, espcially knowing that next time I’ll be writing a review it will be the last one for a long time. I feel the hiatus until season 4 will be a LONG one, but I hope some of you guys will stick around, because I ain’t going anywhere! Alright, I guess we need to get going, shall we? 

Villanelle & Helene

So, they were right about the fact that the Twelve is EVERYWHERE. Apparently they know and see everything, including what happened with Oksana’s family and what she did to her mother. I don’t recall Villanelle telling anything to Dasha about this. So far Konstantin is the only one who knows and I don’t think he would tell anybody about this. And now, Helene somehow knows it too and of course she’s using that information to further manipulate and affect Villanelle. I’m still ver torn about her... like, Villanelle is NOT the only one who finds her hot, okay? Camille Cottin is suuch an amazing addition to KE cast and I want her to stick around, buuut... Helene is trouble. She’ll have to go and we got a Villanelle line “Working out how I’d kill you.” this may very well be foreshadowing. Not only does she say it but Helene soon bites back with “You wouldn’t be able to, by the way.” “Wouldn’t be able to what?” “Kill me before I killed you. You’re a child. You have no idea what you’re messing with.” so what does that mean? Villanelle/Helene face off? She is still one of their best assets if not THE best, yet Helene chooses to bring her down by calling her a child. Helene has no chance against her. 

Now, their first interaction was just as awkward and kind of weird with Villanelle making jokes about Helene trying to seduce her and all that and honetly, when I saw this scene and her getting to Villanelle like that, for a moment I DID wonder if she was actually trying to secude her and turns out she was mothering her... which means she knows Villanelle’s situation very well. Hitting all the right spots where Villanelle got teary in the first couple of minutes. This is NOT okay. But that’s how the Twelve view her. Helene’s entire speech about her being a Beautiful Monster is exactly how the Twelve see and value her. They wouldn’t want Villanelle to continue being this sensitive, vulnerable and emotional and the only reason why Helene did what she did is to gain information. Have Villanelle confess her “secrets” and feelings, but thank God Villanelle is smarter than that. I mean, it takes A LOT to get her to open up, even with Eve she sometimes kept her guard down so do we really expect her to open up to some stranger? Even if it was a HOT one? Don’t think so.

Another small detail I’d love to talk about is the INJURY. As soon as Helene asked Villanelle to show her injury I instantly thought about Eve’s stab wound and I don’t know why. Sure, she just got stabbed in her arm last episode and I completely forgot about it so... seeing Villanelle hesitate before showing the right place almost makes me think that.. maybe she also thought about the stab wound that Eve caused? 

Also, random thought but I’m wondering if Helene and Paul are on the same level in this organisation. Are they like.. Keepers or something? Maybe they hold a higher position we aren’t aware of yet? Because I don’t think they are actually members of the Twelve. Though they could be very close. Like their right hand or something. And since we are seeing Paul back for the finale, will Helene be back as well? Imagine them both in the same place. That definitely would be an interesting duo to see!

Konstantin (ft. Irina)

Okay, so you’re telling me that Konstantin willingly brought Irina into that detention center?! Did someone call the cops on her? Her mother, perhaps? Because I just can’t see Konstantin doing something like this to his own daughter only to expect that she will soon be dischardged? It has to be the mother then, as we got a hint that the lack of empathy that Irina shows comes from her mother. Reminds me a LOT of Villanelle. And that actually sounds a lot like Tatiana... meaning Irina is really becoming Villanelle 2.0 plus Konstantin is no longer with her mother which brings the issue of father/mother abandonment. That, as we saw, causes attention seeking issues which Irina showed in the last episode. In terms of acting, I’m VERY impressed with Yuli this episode. I feel Irina has changed A LOT since last episode and I think only a day or two passed since then. It’s crazy. But the acting was soo on point and Villanelle-like. 

I get that Konstantin is scared as to what is happening to Irina and seeing all of those traits coming out of her reminding him of Villanelle and how she alone is handful, he doesn’t want to go through the same crap with his own daughter. Then again, he should’ve seen it coming, but he’s just not around her enough as he’s been living this double agent life. 

Everybody and everything seems to be pushing this poor guy towards a heart attack and this time he collapsed! Can’t you give him a break already? He’s the father of the show and we can’t lose him. Many thought that after that tran station scene that he died, but thankfully he seems to be okay at the end of the episode. Well, more or less. In a way I’m still scared that he might die in the finale... but they already had hinted it several times and even voiced that he might die and we thought he did. So... will they pull the same card twice? I’m not sure, but I won’t be letting my guard down yet.

The hospital scene is such a MOOD and I think it’s one of those scenes that we ALL relate to. I know, I do as I’m trying to handle KE stuff and manage my finals so yeeah, stress is a LOT. I’ve always loved Konstantin’s laughter but his hysterical laughter in this scene just KILLED me lmao!! I mean... he just had a heart attack, what makes you think he is NOT stressed?! I can only imagine how much shit he’s into at the moment so yeah, this is such a hilarious question! 

Apparently Dasha is there as well! You know what it means? We will get Konstantin/Dasha interactions! We haven’t had any interactions between them yet so this will be interesting. 

Let’s everybody pray daddy K survives this season! I’d rather have Dasha, Helene and Paul killed off all together than him. So let’s hope this is exactly what happens!

Villaneve

It’s been a while since the last time we saw Eve chase Villanelle. Or vise versa, even. The only time this season Villanelle “visited” Eve on the bus is when she had a job in London. What if she didn’t have to go to London to kill someone? Wouldn’t she want to see Eve again? That’s a bit painful to think about especially knowing that this was more Villanelle than Oksana as the first episodes took place before she went to Russia and to meet her family.She said she wasn’t ready to see Eve again at that time... and even now after the bus, she was all over the place and really hurting due to Tatiatna’s rejection and having to kill her mother. Does that mean that after all this Villanelle’s obession with Eve and the chase is fading or even completely gone? She seemed really happy to see Eve chase her and the train and so I think she is still intrigued by it, especially now that she saw Eve do it. Eve IS interested. Eve CARES. I still want to see them playing this cat and mouse game from time to time, but without trying to kill each other. They did that enough of times. So hopefully that part of them can still stay the same. Hopefully.

Every time Eve was trying to find/chase Villanelle before was to get to the Twelve. This season she is no longer working with Carolyn, so she doesn’t really have to search for Villanelle even if Carolyn brought up the fact that Villanelle was back in her old ways. Back then Eve refused to have anything to do with Villanelle and so far she wasn’t searching for her until this episode. Again, she says Villanelle is the best way to get to the Twelve, but I don’t really think Eve was so desperate to find Villanelle only for that. Especially after the face off she had with Dasha last episode... I think she just wants to see Villanelle and talk... maybe? She’s ready. Both of them are now. And yeah, I can only wonder what Eve could’ve told Villanelle if they actually met face to face this episode.I’d like to think Eve did all that AND left both Konstantin AND Dasha to die only to continue chasing her girlfriend. Let’s not forget Hugo’s situation last season which was completely the same lmao! Eve wanted to see Villanelle again. And in order to do so not only she digged through trash container, but encouraged Bear to illegally track down Villanelle’s card and she also went to Scotland and then to the damn train station only to meet her! She’s so whipped and WE LOVE TO SEE IT! I just wished she would’ve showed some of this determination in previous episodes.. it’s like she only “woke up” now and realized she was still very in love with Villanelle and wanted to see her again. It’s about TIME you two get together! We’ve been literally waiting for three years for this!

I don’t know why but for some reason I thought that as soon as Villanelle spotted Eve running after the train, she’d get up and stop it and then get off the train to meet her?! The writers wanted to tease us with this for sure, but if it wasn’t for the show... I think Villanelle would’ve done it. Again, another instance where Villanelle doesn’t feel as much need to meet Eve? The only gifts she sent to her this season was that teddy bear with the recording and the cake. That’s it. There were no other hints saying that she is thinking about Eve... and then it makes me go back to 3x06 to Konstantin and Villanelle’s conversation about how she will have to leave Eve behind and the only thing she said was “I know” and I’m pretty sure she was sincere about this. In a way I’d like to think she’s accepting that she needs to be able to let Eve go if she really loves her and at the same time I’m kind of concerned she’s not really... well, struggling with this choice... and if that was some kind of foreshadowing of Villanelle making the decision to leave Eve for good... I’m not even gonna go there. 

I just have to bring up the LACK of Villaneve this season. We’ve got a 2-3 scene of them and that’s it. They didn’t interact much in season 1 compared to season 2 and even in season 1 they interacted more than in season 3! I REALLY hope all of this was leading to their reunion in the finale which will be ENORMOUS because they haven’t seen each other for so long and whatever happens.. their reunion will be special either way. Now, both of them went through a lot this season and there was a lot of individual character growth for both of them and I can’t believe Eve will be seeing Villanelle with her hair DOWN in next episode... you know what it means? She will be meeting OKSANA for the first time... and like I said before.. Eve and Villanelle might not work together that well.. but Eve and Oksana can and this gives me hope they WILL get together in the finale... because if they don’t... there is no way they won’t. It wouldn’t make sense. Why keep them separated for so long only to “confirm” their break up/end of their relationship? I won’t have that. But if they do end up together or at least head in the right direction... the whole season of waiting will be worth it. It will be so worth it... and seeing them slow dance together so calmly, without having them try to kill each other and just... be in each other’s orbit is just so.. beautiful? VILLANEVE IS ENDGAME! Period. I will so need that spare bed next to Konstantin in that hospital... because there’s no way I’m surviving that dance or even more Villaneve content.

Dark!Eve

I was soo sure Eve would finish off Dasha and she ALMOST did! I think she already knew Dasha was the one who tried to kill Niko, but having Dasha bring it up again while she was in a vulnerable state unable to protect herself just shows how narcissistic and over-confident she was being plus I think in a way she was STILL underestimating Eve. That entire scene...Dasha’s ribs were LITERALLY cracking! The look on Eve’s face... that sinister smile of pure pleasure, just the one like Villanelle’s hair pin kill... wow. WE LOVE TO SEE IT! There were way more dark!Eve moments last season and this season we didn’t really get any until now and I am livng for it! Dark!Eve rises... and she’s becoming more like Villanelle while Villanelle is becoming more.. human? It’s almost they are truly equal now, on the same page, on the same wave length and if that’s not a sign of Villaneve endgame I don’t know what is.

Since Dasha mentioned Niko’s mustache, I was sure that Eve wanted to get some kind of revenge for almost losing her husband because I do believe she still cares for him deeply, even if she’s not in love with him anymore. But I’ve seen someone say that she almost killed her because she found out Dasha was the one who tried to frame Villanelle thus, making Eve think it was her so they would hate each other again. I mean.. it could be both, right? But I don’t think it’s purely because of Dasha trying to frame Villanelle. 

I love that they decided to use “I See Darkness In You” once again... first time we’ve heard it was back in 3x05 when Oksana was watching her mother dance. Originally I thought the song was referring to Oksana seeing darkness in Tatiana... but seeing this scene, the song was definitely referring to seeing that darkness in EVE, so... could the song actually apply to seeing darkness in Oksana as well during that scene? I LIVING for dark!Eve and dark!Oksana. Give it to me. The fact that Villanelle almost killed Dasha and then Eve came and ALMOST finished her job... Villaneve basically killed Dasha even if they weren’t together in the same place lol! This is some soulmate connection lol! I truly think Eve would’ve killed Dasha if it weren’t for the ambulance that distracted her. She was having waaay too much fun to stop at that point lmao! I hope we will see more of dark!Eve moments next season, maybe even in the finale and have Oksana see it as well... I mean, she already knew that Eve had a dark side to her, but having them both accept it and be fine with that just adds way more meaning to it and yet another layer of their understanding, you know?

THE GRINCH COSTUME

YES. I am going to talk about THE grinch costume. There is a reason why Jodie said that it was her favorite outfit this season and I mean... seeing it in this episode truly hits different than seeing those leaked filming pictures. Sure, the costume itself looks ridiculous and I don’t think anyone could’ve pulled it off the way Jodie did. Seriously, this woman can pull off ANYTHING and I love that for her. This costume is DEFINITELY one of my favorites of entire show. It’s iconic™ on it’s own and it deserves way more love. Besides, she gets to wear it on the damn golf course! I honestly wish she wore it longer, I don’t think we will see her wearing it in the finale so that’s a shame. Speaking of her costumes, it feels like she’s changing the outfits too damn quick. Or maybe that’s just me. Anyways, give the GRINCH outfit a chance, please! It’s incredible!

Carolyn & Geraldine

It doesn’t look like things are going well for Carolyn. At all. In fact, I think that’s the least successful she ever was up to this point and that is frustrating. What I’ve noticed this season is that whenever someone digs up some kind of information related to the Twelve they DIE. First it was Kenny who was investigating them for how long? A couple of weeks or something? And they caught up with him. Now, it’s Mo. He said he was tracking Paul for the past week and there was no indications that he was working for the Twelve. However at the end of the episode he did find something and guess what? Rhian was there to kill him. Also... it’s interesting that Helene sent Rhian to kill Mo and not Villanelle because she’s not really fit to do the killing... but she gave Villanelle AND Dasha some random American who apparently was crying out to be killed. She doesn’t trust Villanelle and maybe she doesn’t want her to know what the Twelve is up to.

Meanwhile Carolyn is slowly losing her mind. And in a way Geraldine has a point. She needs to find a way to let it all out because she can only wait this long until it all reaches it’s peak and she snaps. And she did. She went full on bashing and breaking things and that is one way of coping. At least she took the first step towards accepting and dealing with her emotioins. I’m also kind of worried for her... anything could happen at this point and now that she knows Paul is for sure working for the Twelve.. she might try to do something and I hope she doesn’t get herself killed. I mean she’s not my favorite character or anything, but the lady has BEST iconic lines in the show and I’d like her to stick around a bit longer. Espececially now that Konstantin might have to go... (hopefully not)

So Geraldine... I tried to keep an open mind about her and her storyline this season. Each character has storylines, that’s why they are there. For a reason. So far the only storyline I see for Geraldine is to be the pawn that Konstantin uses to spy on Carolyn and well... in a way having her replace Kenny and be someone who Carolyn can interact with. And they barely interact anyways because they don’t really understand one another. So... is that all? Is she still there because well.. she needs to help Carolyn cope with her emotions? And don’t get me started on her and Konstantin thing... that is just fucked up and kind of unnecessary? So... were ALL the scenes involving her necessary for the main plot? I’ll leave that up for the debate.

Intro Sequence & Soundtracks

Glad to see the intro sequence back once more! It would’ve been really weird to have it only for one episode. Someone had pointed out before that they were doing this on purpose and that it was not as random as we thought it was. Apparently both 3x02 and 3x07 has the intro sequence, while 3x04 and 3x06 have the titles all over the place. I can only wonder what they’ve left for the finale! But I’d like for them to keep the intro sequence in season 4! 

I’ve said it before several times and I’ll say it again. Killing Eve has the BEST soundtracks and the most accurate ones too, where the lyrics not only express the right feeling/atmosphere of the scene but also describe/tell what the characters are feeling/thinking and that is crucially important b ecause sometimes they just don’t talk about emotions. For example Villanelle doesn’t really voice her feelings but we see what she is feeling due to Jodie’s phenomenal acting and sometimes through the soundtracks, for example the intro scene with Helene. I mean the use of “Look What You Made Me Do” by Jack Leopards & The Dolphin Club was PERFECT! Not only it’s such an interesting take on Taylor Swift’s song, but it describes exactly how Villanelle is feeling towards Helene and her trying to manipulate her. “I don’t like your little game. I don’t like you.”

Then there’s the Villanelle/Konstantin scene where Konstantin comes to pick her up and they have “Watch Your Back” by The Coathangers playing in the background. “You can never go back” LITERALLY! Both of them turned their backs to the Twelve, Konstantin’s stole bunch of money from the organisation and is planning to escape and Villanelle just hit Dasha in the head with golf club and failed to kill her target. They truly can’t go back from this. 

Already touched upon “I See Darkness in You” which is literal perfection when it comes to dark!character scenes. Chef’s kiss™

And then there’s “Demolition Girl” by Billy Childish & Holly Golightly which was used in the very last scene when Villanelle calls Eve and we see the camera zoom out on Eve. “Demolition Girl” is basically someone who is destructive and hell... them using that after Eve got a call from her? Yeah, that call ruined Eve and us as well in the best way... in the teasing way and I can’t wait for them to actually meet and I already know they will use something VERY special for the dance scene as well. Their soundtracks this season are soo on point I’m in love.

The Plot

I’ve been meaning to talk about this ever since the last couple of episodes because it seems to me they are really trying to catch up with so many different storylines but there simply isn’t enough time to cover it all up. Which really brings me to my next point when I previously said that a season should at least have about 10 episodes. It’s a solid number and they could actually have a chance to have those “bottle”/solo episodes and at the same time have enough screen time to solve and complete the rest of the storylines without leaving any plot-holes behind. I mean, yes, some of those storylines will not be finished because Laura Neal will take over them in season 4, but I still think they need to either extend the episode number or maybe discard some of the less relevant storylines? I just want it to feel rushed or anything, because I’m sure there will be A LOT of things happening in the finale and we can barely get any Villaneve quality time or even other storylines like with Konstantin/Carolyn and the Twelve. 

The Feel/Atmosphere

I think this was THE episode that I actually felt like the old Killing Eve (s1 + s2) was back. It’s true. the rest of the season does feel a lot different and this episode in particular just has this dark atmosphere and some of the original soundtracks are being used as well and let’s not forget one of the OG directors, Damon Thomas, directed this episode and I think he is one of the main reasons what made this episode so amazing. For those of you who aren’t very familiar with the episodes that Damon has directed, he did some of the biggest episodes, including both 1x07 & 1x08, then 2x01, 2x07 & 2x08 including a couple other episodes in there. And this is the only episode (so far) this season that he directed. Maybe that’s why it feels so familiar to previous to season and honestly I LOVED it. I think there is a reason why he tends to direct the last couple of episodes which makes me think he was the one who directed 3x08 as well and if he did, I am even more excited for it! Of course, Laura Neal’s impact was felt there as well and yeah, 3x03 was incredible as well including THE BUS scene which still blows my mind! Yeah, my expectations are HIGH for season 4.

Overall Thoughts

This was definitely my favorite episode this season and soo many things happened in it starting with the humor of the episode (it was said that this episode will be the funniest one) and yeah, it WAS hilarious. It was dark, it had that good old suspence and we also got a GLIMPSE into Villaneve. Then there’s my favorite GRINCH costume, Konstantin’s hysterical laughter, Eve chasing Villanelle and soo much more. 

I really hope we survive the next episode guys, because I am nervous and I am scared as I am excited! Can’t believe it’s the last one... but we will get through it together! At least it’s not the last season yet! I truly hope the finale will pay off and I cannot wait to watch it! 

As always guys, let me know your thoughts/reactions of the last episode and if you have any theories or thoughts about the finale don’t hesitate to jump in my ask box or message me directly so we can chat about it!!

[altumvidetur]

Hotch/Reid Fic Recs

Previously: Haikyuu!! Fic Recs, DCMK (Kaishin) Fic Recs

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

When it comes to Criminal Minds, I only had one OTP, one that’s been carrying me through the first seven seasons and which will, hopefully, carry me towards season 11 (and what am I going to do once Hotch leaves the show? I have no idea). So, here are my Hotch/Reid fic recs:

A Kiss Is..., by bowie28

For a Renaissance man such as Dr. Reid, a kiss can mean a lot of things.

First Kiss, by Lenore

To solve the case of who's targeting gay couples, Hotch and Spencer need to go undercover. But first, they have to practice.

Making Whoopee, by kuriadalmatia

12 days was the longest Hotch had been away from Jack since Haley's death. He's not adjusting well.

P is for Pie, by kuriadalmatia

Spencer knows what Aaron is doing: offering up a piece of himself—a very private piece of his childhood that never talks about—so that Spencer has the opportunity to reciprocate.

Nothing In Between, by travelinthedark

Aaron doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be anymore.

5 Mandatory Events at the FBI Regional Training Seminar, by travelinthedark

“Hey guys!” Jeff’s voice is just as upbeat as it was when he was telling the entire conference room about the wonders of community stewardship and his volunteer work as a ‘Big Brother.’ It’s also just as loud, and Hotch wonders if the guy realizes he doesn’t have to shout at people who are less than five feet away from him. “Are you ready to come up and add your ideas to the aspirations board?”

Conversations in Transit, by travelinthedark

Three conversations about (or sort of about) the way that Hotch and Reid are together.

Your Shadow at Morning, by travelinthedark

Aaron's world is a mess, and it falls apart more every time he tries to fix it.

Q is for Queen Bee, by kuriadalmatia

The last thing Reid remembered as he was speaking gibberish to Kimura as they raced to the hospital. Losing the capacity for language was terrifying...

L is for Lipstick, by kuriadalmatia

Aaron finds a cache of lipstick-imprinted business cards tucked away in Spencer's desk. He doesn't react well.

Catatonic, by bowie28

Spencer Reid is a man of habit.

The apple and afterward, by Lenore

What if Reid hadn't managed to kick his Dilaudid addiction? What if he needed a job on the side in order to afford his habit?

Five Times Spencer Reid Kept His Hair, and One Time He Didn’t, by bowie28

Why Reid finally had his hair cut. 

Love Songs, by Gorgeousgreymatter

(Summary by me: Hotch pining for Reid, both of them getting together and being cute.)

The Tradition of Sprigs, by kuriadalmatia

Hotch holds the sprig of mistletoe by the stem, cocks an eyebrow, and waits for an explanation. Because, in the four months Spencer Reid has been on his team, Hotch knows that there’s going to be one. What he doesn't know is that it will become a tradition.

The Best for Last, by blythechild

This is a gift fic based on the prompt: "It's Hotch and Reid's first Xmas together and Hotch wants to get Reid a gift that he never received as a child - Jack suggests asking Reid’s parents about what he’d like."

House Call, by blythechild

Jack is ill and wants to be comforted by Reid instead of Hotch.

Not Included In The Brochure, by blythechild

[Crossover with Sherlock (BBC)] Sherlock was standing over the body… Sherlock finds himself in the middle of a B.A.U. investigation, much to his delight and John's frustration.

Something Less Ordinary, by blythechild

A year after Reid voluntarily leaves the F.B.I., Hotch discovers that Diana Reid is dead and he must find his former colleague and friend in hopes of setting a few things right.

we’re reeling through an endless fall, by bittereternity

lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life. Back then, Spencer had replied, "I love you too. I love you very much." This could be a love story someday. [spencer reid, aaron hotchner, reid/hotch, reid/maeve]

Five Dinners Series, by Daylyn

(Summary by me: Hotch and Reid’s getting together, plus some moments during the series.)

The Moment In-Between, by Daylyn

In the Criminal Minds novel, Killer Profile by Max Allan Collins, there’s a scene where Prentiss sends Reid to wake up a sleeping Hotch and Hotch enters the conference room a moment later looking rather mussed. This is what happened during that missing moment in-between.

The Secret Marriage, by blythechild

Hotch has a new ring, Reid has a new tattoo, and everyone is wondering about everyone else's secrets.

yesterday’s seven thousand years, by bittereternity

“What if I can never love a child?” “If it’s your child, Spencer, he will be the easiest person in the world to love.”

Reid thinks about the idea of a child in his life, and turns to Hotch for help.

the lies we weave are oh so intricate, by bittereternity

Maybe they were always supposed to fall apart, because there was nothing stopping them from being happy. In a world where everyone is Dominant or submissive, Aaron Hotchner meets Spencer Reid, who simply wants to be neither. In the process of getting to know him, he never expected to a. fall in love b. fall in love with his team member and c. fall in love with a man so infuriatingly unwilling to reciprocate.

Written for the Criminal Minds Big Bang 2013.

Vigil, by red_river

"Part of Hotch knew Reid was an FBI agent, and perfectly capable of taking the bus. But the other part couldn't imagine letting him - not after this case, of all cases." Post LDSK, Hotch gives Reid a ride home, and which leads to pizza, old TV, and helping him face a few of his demons. Episode tag, S1E6, "LDSK." Friendship or pre-slash.

Refuge, by red_river

"She’s my mom,” Spencer murmured, and Aaron couldn’t help thinking how young that word made him seem. “But sometimes it’s like there’s…almost none of that person left.” In the aftermath of the Fisher King, Hotch flies to Las Vegas to bring Reid home, and tries to make something new out of all their broken pieces. Episode tag to S2E1, "The Fisher King;" friendship or pre-slash.

Call me whatever, I just want to be yours, by surrenderdammit

“Let’s get dinner, just the two of us, next time,” Aaron comments, helping her into her coat because he is ridiculous like that, and he is apparently partial to the fond exasperation he gets in return, which is usually in the form of her huffing or rolling her eyes.

A love story told in parts, from the first time they met to the first time they fall into bed together.

Serendipity, by red_river

"You've been watching over him." In the aftermath of a difficult case, Hotch searches for a way to lift Reid's spirits, and someone notices. Episode tag to 2x13, "No Way Out."

I Hope You Kept the Receipt, by blythechild

[Crossover with Sherlock (BBC)] Hotch and Reid get trapped in an elevator with Sherlock Holmes. And then Sherlock does what he's best at: pissing people off.

Speechless, by blythechild

[Crossover with Sherlock (BBC)] Reid has an uninvited guest at the worst possible moment.

Desert Mirage, by merle_p

Long story short, there is a high probability that he is doing it for altogether selfish reasons, but when Reid looks at him with an expression of such sincere, helpless gratefulness, he cannot find it in himself to regret.

Twice Shy, by blythechild

Seven years ago, Hotch and Reid had a brief affair. Now, Hotch wants to try again, but can they make it work with less impediments and more baggage? (Spoilers through season 10)

Three Letter Agency, Four Letter Word, by merle_p

The NSA is interested in Spencer Reid. They are not the only one.

Late Nights ‘Verse, by EloquentDossier

Summary by me: Hotch pining for Reid, Reid probably pining for Hotch, a lot of UST and people being dense.

Time-Out ‘Verse, by EloquentDossier

Summary by me: Hotch and Reid’s cute shenanigans.

Chain Reaction, by EloquentDossier

"(Mon 12:20 pm) Which is why you text the stranger instead of talk to coworkers.

(Mon 12:20 pm) Yes. (Mon 12:28 pm) Is that weird?"

xxx

A dialogue-only AU in which Hotch texts what he thinks is Rossi's new number but is actually the slightly eccentric stranger whom Hotch knows only as "Spencer." What follows is something neither man could have ever quite expected.

Golden Letters ‘Verse, by EloquentDossier

Summary by me: Soulmates AU in which everyone gets a tattoo with a sentence that their soulmate will eventually say.

Bright, by EloquentDossier

"There were several things in Aaron Hotchner's life that had never made sense to him. He didn't understand why nearly everyone in his family (minus his son Jack) couldn't quite fathom why he felt drawn to the BAU. He didn't get how so many people in the world had such depraved mindsets. And he wasn't entirely sure why he still hadn't drug-tested his team's tech analyst, Penelope Garcia. (He was also confused about her relationship with Derek Morgan, but he wasn't going to touch that with a ten foot pole.)

But what baffled Hotch the most was how someone who was as intelligent as Spencer Reid could be so inherently oblivious."

xxx

Written for the prompt: I've seen a lot of oblivious!Hotch fic, but how about Reid being oblivious of his own feelings for Hotch? Hotch is aware, and reciprocates. Fluffy journey of realization maybe? Bonus for Garcia being helpful.

Affinity, by margarks

Right now just a couple of drabble about the way Spencer and Hotch see each other, but it seems like I might add on to these, so I created this series.

Psychosexual Developments, by dissolvedingirl

Hotch and Reid, between all the moments you see.

Limbo, by kehlee

There's a place in between kissing and dating; there's a place between heaven and hell. This is it.

Just When You Least Expect It, Just What You Least Expect, by blythechild

Hotch has been Reid's boss for ten years, and his friend for almost as long. He thinks he knows him pretty well, but a random event during a random case has the chance to change all of that. It's just a matter of whether Hotch can accept it or not.

In Two Hours (And Not a Minute Later), by dissolvedingirl

Reid finally decides to confront Hotch about those intense looks he's been giving Reid for years.

The Wall, by blythechild

Hotch can't decide what he finds more shocking: going out clubbing at 50 or seeing a phone number he knows scribbled on the bathroom wall...

You’re the Boss, by blythechild

Hotch finds himself in the unfamiliar position of relying on Reid for guidance in their kinda/sorta/not really relationship. or Why casual sex is never all that casual.

This One Is Not Like The Others, by blythechild

(Summary by me: Tentacle-Monster!Reid. It’s way better than it sounds.)

Beneath, by blythechild

Everyone is exactly who you think they are until something comes along to throw your perception off track. After ten years, Reid and Hotch discover this for themselves.

Breaking Point, by EloquentDossier

There was this thing about Aaron Hotchner's voice.

Reid couldn't quite pinpoint when it had started. Perhaps it had always been there, hovering just beneath the surface and waiting for him to recognize it for what it was. Or maybe it had simply been a recent, sudden development. For once the "when" wasn't as much of a concern as it typically would be. No; instead Reid was more interested in trying to discern just what he was going to do about the fact that Hotch had discovered it so quickly. Possibly even before he himself had.

xxx

In which Reid really should have just admitted he liked Hotch's voice when he realized it.

Birthday Woes, by EloquentDossier

It didn't bother him when the call came in. Really, it didn't. Or at least not initially.

xxx

In which the team gets called away on a case and forgets Hotch's birthday.

Of Cowboys and FBI Agents, by severity_softly

Aaron catches Spencer in the act.

In the Silence, by Brumeier

Posted to LJ Comment Fic for Kink prompt: Criminal Minds, Hotch/Reid, silence is a big kink for Hotch

Two Seconds, by blythechild

Time catches up with Aaron Hotchner when he realizes that the person he's always wanted - Spencer Reid - is actually beyond his reach.

Maybe Tomorrow, by orphan_account

The one where Aaron Hotchner wasn't in love with Spencer Reid, until suddenly he was.

Give and Take, by blythechild

Everyone has human moments and for some reason Reid is hiding his. Because Hotch is who he is, he decides he needs to figure out why.

Shepherd of the Damned, by Deejaymil

They're called to Alaska on a desperate last-ditch effort to find seven missing hikers. They don't even think twice about going. This is their job. They put themselves in danger every day to protect the people that need them. But never like this.

They number six. It begins with one.

It's not going to stop until they're all consumed.

See The Love There That’s Sleeping, by blythechild

Reid didn't know that when he leapt into a burning building his life would change forever. But love is sneaky that way.

December 1st: Mistletoe or Give Us a Hug, by NimueOfTheNorth

Spencer may say he is getting enough cuddles, but Derek knows better. A mistletoe makes a convenient option to test both arguments. Derek gets quite a bit more than he bargained for.

Come Undone, by EloquentDossier

When Spencer Reid forgot to take his suppressants two mornings in a row, it really shouldn't have been a big deal. He had them in his bag at the hotel, and as long as he took one that evening, he'd be fine. What he couldn't have prepared for, however, was the lab the latest victim worked at going into an at least twenty-four-hour-lockdown while he was in it.

When Aaron Hotchner was asked to aid his subordinate through what would otherwise be an agonizing heat, he'd had several reservations, one of which had been the consent issue: Omegas couldn't legally consent to sex during a heat unless it was twenty-four hours in advance. With every concern rebutted logically (because of course the Bureau had an Agent Consent form in case of emergencies), he finally agreed.

Of all the possible repercussions, however, neither man expected the one they received.

xxx

Or that one time no one expected the Alpha to accidentally bond to the Omega while the Omega remained unaffected.

Fireproof, by blythechild

[Crossover with Supernatural] Hotch and Reid's friendship ends suddenly when Hotch abruptly quits the Bureau and disappears. But Reid won't let him get away with it.

Halcyon Mine, by Deejaymil

What if a lonely boy meets a friend in a lonely quarry... and what if he loses him without warning?

unmoored, by 28ghosts

“When it’s kids who end up our killers, you know,” Reid says, unprompted, pulling his coat close against his body, “I always end up feeling...bad, you know? I feel bad. I know I have no cause to, not really. I’m not one of them.”

Hotch stops for a second, walking down the airfield. The cold Virginia air whips around him as harsh as judgement. He’s surprised to see Reid, ahead of him, slow to a stop, head tilted back towards the gray sky.

“Let’s get a drink sometime,” Hotch says, before he can overthink it. “If you’d like.”

Indispensable, by Deejaymil

Dave's a damn good guardian angel, one of the best. And being one of the best means he gets the worst jobs: the important, the clumsy, the reckless, the difficult-to-keep-alive. The indispensables. But he's never before quite had anyone like Spencer Reid.

Within the first two seconds of meeting his new charge, the kid gets hit by a car; it really only goes downhill from there. His only consolation is that Emily is having just as much trouble with her new charge, Aaron Hotchner.

If only they could somehow combine their assignments...

Acutely Us, by Deejaymil

This is the part where a story is told. There are ferrets, mistakes, birthdays, apologies, and dances. There is Spencer and Aaron and Jack and the life they make together.

And it all begins with a goat.

Rise Again, by blythechild

Aaron Hotchner has been on the run for five years, but that all comes to an end on a beach in Australia.

Religiously Unaffiliated, by ghoultown

(Summary by me: Hotch/Reid with Reid deliberating about his atheism.)

Don’t Make Me Talk You Down, by ghoultown

The night was heavy because it was humid on top of the bridge in between highway I-90 and I-80, the semi-trucks that passed messing with his balance, almost toppling him over if it hadn't been for his grip on the railing.

Rain, by orphan_account

He almost died today, and Hotch is determined to ensure it doesn't happen again.

Against All Odds, by ghoultown

Spencer is upset because the way he and Hotch met and started dating wasn't as special as Hotch and Haley's story. Hotch begs to differ.

Under My Protection, by ghoultown

Hotch and Reid never met. Reid is in danger. The government puts Hotch in charge of Reid's safety.

Empty Places, by Mystical_Magician

All wishes have consequences, and when Spencer makes one to save lives, he knows and accepts the price. The rest of his team does not. What the mind forgets, the heart remembers, and in Foyet's wake they all know that something is missing. Aaron Hotchner refuses to ignore the aching, empty spaces.

Genuine Need, by NimueOfTheNorth

It would have been nothing more than Aaron buying Spencer a cup of coffee. Good thing Garcia is there to pull the right strings or those two would be lost.

Swan Song, by Deejaymil

At some point they’d become caught in each other’s orbits, lost in a sea of almosts. Neither of them realized that their time was finite, not until their world turned to flames and threatened to tear everything apart.

For Spencer Reid the grief was too big, too impossible to believe that four BAU members and a treasured friend had fallen in an instant. When faced with the opportunity to get back what he’d lost, he has to decide if it’s fate or madness that beckons him.

For Aaron Hotchner, madness would almost be welcome. At least then the world would become logical again, turning the impossibility of what had happened to them into something tangible. But even madness doesn’t change the fact that they’re trapped.

They’re not even sure if anyone is still looking for them.

i hope you’re waiting at the end, by soloecal

Sometimes, Spencer thinks too much. Post Season 12.

-

A month later, on a singularly insignificant night, Spencer sits Hotch down after dinner, and presses a ring into the palm of his hand. “This isn’t working,” Spencer says. “I think we should break up.”

Expiration Date, by blythechild

He goes to Vegas to meet a friend but ends up married. The time-honored way to make these kinds of mistakes is to do it while incapacitated, but Hotch waits and does it sober instead. An interesting choice...

Conclusive Proof That You Have a Terrible Boyfriend, by blythechild

Hotch is proving he's an awful boyfriend. Via text messaging.

He’s A Bad Boyfriend Too, by blythechild

Aaron and Spencer have a relationship issue that Spencer thinks is best solved via drunk texting. This is a sequel to Conclusive Proof That You Have A Terrible Boyfriend.

Apodyopsis, by NimueOfTheNorth

If he is forced to listen to boring lectures for three days, Spencer really can't be held accountable for his imagination going wild, now can he. Reality might proof even better.

(i know you’ve tried) but something stops you every time, by wintrs

Prentiss can't help but overhear Hotch and Reid's conversation on the jet.

Faces, by blythechild

Every three days, a man wakes up in a different body. There's no controlling it and no way to prepare for it. All he can do is make the best of his new face with the time he has.

First, by orphan_account

The first time Aaron tells Spencer he loves him is an accident.

L’Homme Mystere, by orphan_account

Even if he’d been waiting for this in a state of barely contained arousal since early this morning, when Aaron had bumped shoulders with him at the coffee pot in the breakroom and whispered in his ear about how he had a surprise for him later that night... well.

Spencer wasn’t that kind of guy.

How to Get a Hard Pass, by Deejaymil

There's an FBI trainee named Spencer Reid in the class Hotch is teaching, and that'd all be just fine if Hotch wasn't completely distracted by wanting to be in Spencer Reid instead. But there’s no way he’s going to give his student an inch - or eight - until he’s good and ready to do so on his own terms.

Spencer Reid has other plans.

The Longest Road, by Deejaymil

They’re taking the longest road to get there, but, in the end, it doesn’t really matter. What they are to each other has always been inevitable.

A Horse Named Rabbit, by Deejaymil

Aaron Hotchner is riding West on a borrowed horse, hiding the man he used to be behind a shortened name and a beard he only sometimes thinks of shaving. His desire to keep on running until he hits the setting set is waylaid by an unexpected meeting with a man on a mule who says he's looking for his lost luck.

When they part, Hotch realises that's a mistake. There's something about Spencer Reid that reminds him that he's more than just a man on a horse going nowhere—that he was once the kind of person who could help a stranger find what he's looking for. There's just one problem with that.

When Spencer had said he was looking for his luck, he’d never mentioned that he planned to steal it.

for mortals: there is a share, by ifnot_winter

Reid could find no precedent in his experience for so gentle a seduction. Or so effective.

+

An exploration of moments and intimacy through three consecutive fragments of text paired with fragments of Sappho's lyric poetry.

the safety of objects, by ifnot_winter

Fumbling his glasses right off the edge of the table, he managed not to step on them en route to snatching up the phone as the third buzz gave way to ringing. Bending to retrieve his glasses, he caught his shoulder on the corner of the nightstand and managed to press the answer button, cutting off the shrill electronic wail mid-ring. "Damn--Hello?" Glasses shoved firmly into place, he watched the cufflink skitter in concentric, diminishing circles across the scuffed polish of the hardwood floor and come to a leisurely halt a few feet away.

"Reid." Hotch.

+

Somehow the fragments of Sappho struck me as a great mental framework for CM fics. This was the first completed result, mostly an attempt at exploring Reid and flexing rusty writing muscles.

Pretty, by blythechild

Hotch thinks Reid is pretty and then is forced to explain it.

Good Enough, by blythechild

Aaron has plenty of kinks, but he can't figure out Spencer's.

[hideyseek]

50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked

tagged by @usersoup <3

What is the colour of your hairbrush?  it is .. black and turquoise, though i must admit that since i’ve cut my hair i rarely use it. 

Name a food you never eat? huh. caviar? i tend to forget about the existence of foods i don’t eat until i’m on the instacard website. chocolate ice cream, i guess. that’s like, a normal-person food i never consume.

Are you typically too warm or too cold? i am constantly too cold. as i type this i am in my apartment in sweatpants under a blanket and my roommate is in shorts and a tshirt.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? mm i was reading a room of one’s own, at risk of sounding like the pretentious humanities major i am. i’m reading it out of desperation (we are in possession of the writer’s block and we would like to give it up as soon as possible), after having had it in my head to read since i came across a lin-manuel miranda tween in like 2015 telling all young writers to read it

What is your favourite candy bar? i don’t really like.. candy. twix or butterfingers, if i had to pick one at gunpoint.

Have you ever been to a professional sports event? yEAH u fucking bet i went to winterguard international championships twice in high school and bands of america championships once (both as part of my school’s winter/colorguard). i’ve never gone to a pro sportsball match though. 

What is the last thing you said out loud? oh, are you really out there alone? (at my roommate, who is on the balcony with a desk lamp rigged up for optimal dirtball making).   

What is your favourite ice cream? vanilla. or hazelnut. i fucking love hazelnut. 

What was the last thing you had to drink? not to associate myself with brands, but i am drinking sprite as i type this. 

Do you like your wallet? yes! i had my wallet nicked on a bus in the middle of the semester and my replacement is a lovely narrow black folding wallet that i am infinitely fond of.

What was the last thing you ate? the dregs of my cheezits, pepper jack flavor

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? mm no, though during my phone call with my grandma earlier this week she told me i should buy more clothes no less than four times. she thinks i should own and wear more “pretty girl clothes” and i haven’t the heart to tell her that i think gender is fake. 

The last sporting event you watched? i participated in a harry potter pub quiz over zoom the other week, if that counts. otherwise, probably something televised and american football related, several months ago.

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? oH thank god i have an interesting answer to this one -- my stage manager/playwright friend, whose recent play i am dying to get a copy of.

Ever go camping? yeah. my family used to go every august with some family friends. 

Do you take vitamins? mm just vitamin d. (fuck off this was not meant to be a dick joke).

Do you go to church every Sunday? nah.

Do you have a tan? not anymore... even during the semester i spend most of my time underground in a basement rehearsal space or in the on-campus computer labs. (hence the vitamin d)

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? these are?? not equivalent at all in terms of scope? chinese food, of course. 

Do you drink your soda with a straw? nah. can-to-mouth for me. 

What colour socks do you usually wear? depends on how cold i am: i have some very lovely warm purple socks and some red and black socks that my dear friend gifted me for christmas last? year? but otherwise i have just sports shoes height white socks and black socks.

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i am gay, i do not drive.

What terrifies you? failure, mostly. i hate that that’s my answer, but there you go. failure, or being putting myself in a situation where i don’t really have a choice in what happens to me.  

Look to your left, what do you see? mm, i just moved from the study to bed so: the empty space in the loft bed railing where the ladder is, a blank wall, the edge and hinges of the bedroom wall.

What chore do you hate? none, really? i’ll get really passive-aggressive about some of the small apartment tidying things in my head, but not often enough that anything comes to mind now. 

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? how my linguistics prof last semester had folks self-identify if they spoke non-american english in the middle of lecture

What’s your favourite soda? hm, hm. oH. there’s a vietnamese sandwich place in my hometown that has the best lychee soda. (a handful of google image searches informs me this is elisha aerated brand)

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? hm, most of the time when i’m going to fast food i’m going to in-n-out with either a pile of theater people or my high school friend group, so sitting. er, going in.

Who’s the last person you talked to? roommates, in person. 

Favourite cut of beef? i could not name cuts of beef if u asked me to really nicely. actually jk i know uh, ox... oxtail? i like oxtail soup.

Last song you listened to? am in the middle of listening to trenchh by cavetown but i’ve been alternating fob and cavetown and bastille on shuffle on spotify.

Last book you read? ella enchanted by gail carson levine, because it is my #1 comfort book.

Favourite day of the week? i like thursdays. they just sound nice.

Can you say the alphabet backwards? if i had like, several minutes, i probably could do it. but everything after w would involve me counting (counting? reciting?) from the beginning.

How do you like you coffee? i’ll drink it any way but black. i have discovered i do not like dalgona coffee. but i like the dark chocolate mocha that peet’s does in the winter a ridiculous amount.

Favourite pair of shoes? i have this pair of converse that’s grey stripes that always makes me feel like a Cool Arts Student, even though it’s actively terrible for my arches. 

The time you normally go to bed? to bed? midnightish. to being asleep? usually 1-2ish. 

The time you normally get up? eleven in the morning, apparently, since that’s what’s been happening now that i’m not setting alarms. during the school year, usually 7:30 or 8 because i work in the scene shop half the mornings of the week.

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? conceptually? sunsets. aesthetically? also sunsets. metaphorically, though, i prefer sunrises.

How many blankets on your bed? i’ve got a blanket (duvet, maybe? comforter? i have never really vibed with these western concepts of bedding) and another knitted blanket. 

Describe your kitchen plates: black and square and slightly chipped because roommates and i get a bit aggressive with cramming them onto the drying rack. 

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? i like hard cider. (i like soft cider better than hard cider, but the apple taste drowns out the alcohol taste enough for me to have a pretty good time.) 

Do you play cards? haha yeah. whenever i’m home i play 24 with my little brother and lose a lot. or my family’ll play 21. or BS, which i fucking hate because i cannot lie for shit.

What colour is your car? still gay, still don’t drive.

Can you change a tire? mmmmmmmmmmm no. i have a shocking lack of car-related life skills for someone holding down a job that mostly involves wrenches. 

Your favourite province? oh boy. hubei province, bc there’s no country specification and this feels less impersonal than if i were to just point somewhere in australia. 

Favourite job you’ve ever had? hm, let’s limit this to work i’ve done for money, just to narrow the field down. (i tend to like the work i do a lot.) i really really enjoy working as a sound technician, especially as a mic assistant (it checks my “meeting people” box and my “helping people with their emotions” box and my “storytelling for an audience” box because at the theater i work at, pre-show mic check is me talking about my day and has resulted in a handful of people telling me i should try standup). the hours and pay are kind of crap, though. you don’t get friday nights when your friday nights are spent backstage of the same show you’ve heard twenty million times at this point. i also enjoy teaching computer science, because i just fucking like computer science. christ, i just,, miss being at work :c the production of newsies i was gonna do this summer got canceled. 

How did you get your biggest scar? mm, pass. 

What did you do today that made someone else happy? i, hm. everything that comes to mind feels vaguely manipulative, since i can’t really tell if people were made happy? oh! i had an extended slack conversation with one of the academic interns for the cs class i help teach that was basically just us bonding over word humor. he seems like the kind of person who would have gotten a kick out of it. 

I tag: @kittog @wali21 @capt-ann @lemon-yellow @iamanonniemouse @raccoon-sex-dungeon @snakesonacartesianplane @eternalflarg @swimmingseafish (do it if u want! don’t let me bully u into anything)

[snarky-badger]

Venom/Eddie prompt: Eddie and reader are married and have a kid ( you can decide their age). The said kid doen't know that his/her father is bounded to an alien symbiote. What happens when their offspring is in danger?

You sent this in twice, btw: (2nd Prompt: Venom/Eddie and reader are married and have kids ( you can decide wheather the kids are small or teenagers) but they don’t know that their father is bonded with a alien. What happens when Eddie’s kids are in danger while Venom has control over his body?)

Sorry if I didn’t fill this in fast enough, kinda bogged down in prompts!

Oh, cookies to whomever knows where I got ‘Jamie’s’ name from!

It had stared off as a normal day. You’d gotten your daughter, Jamie, up for school, managed to pry your husband out of bed - that had been harder, he’d gotten a little handsy - fed them, and sent them on their way.

Honestly, if someone had told you twelve years ago that you’d be happily married to someone bonded to an alien symbiote, you’d have laughed in their face. You’d certain never thought that you’d have a twelve year old daughter in the mix too.

But life had a way of turning out for the best.

It was your daughter’s birthday, and as soon as Eddie had guided Jamie out of the apartment to walk her to her bus stop, you’d quickly run back into the bedroom and pulled out the large bag of party supplies and presents you’d snuck into the apartment the week before.

You wrapped the new MP3 player, several books, three gift cards to her favorite online stores, and Eddie’s gift to her - an exorbitant gift in the way of a new smartphone. He was always spoiling her.

Granted, he spoiled you too, so you didn’t argue.

It was while you were up on a chair, hanging paper streamers from the ceiling that the talk show on TV was replaced by an urgent newscast. You gave it scant attention until a brief glance showed a far too familiar bus teetering on the edge of the Bay Bridge.

Holy fuck. It was the bus that Jamie was supposed to be on!

Panic gripped your heart, and you jumped to the floor, running for your phone. Listened to it ring, constantly, while your gaze was locked on the TV.

Please, God. Please…

“Mommy?!”

The fear in your daughter’s voice made something cold knot in your stomach. “Sweetheart! Sweetie, please tell me you missed your bus!”

“No! The bus is going to fall! Mom, I don’t know what to do! The bus driver’s hurt, he’s bleeding, he’s not moving! What do I do?!”

You clenched your eyes shut. Neither you or Eddie had ever told your daughter about Venom. Not yet. Though, you wondered if, on some level, she knew. When she’d been young, a baby, really, it had only been Venom’s rumbling ‘purrs’ that had been able to get her to sleep when she’d been fussy. The symbiote had viewed her as a miracle - it didn’t procreate the way humans did, and found the entire pregnancy endlessly fascinating.

You and Eddie had convinced Venom to keep hidden once Jamie had started to talk. Children didn’t really have much of a filter - you’d both been afraid that she’d tell someone about Venom, about Eddie’s ‘alter ego’. The police were always on the lookout for him, after all. And a toddler drawing pictures of the ‘Demon of San Francisco’ and babbling about how he rocked her to sleep at night would raise endless questions.

Didn’t mean that Venom still didn’t sneak into her bedroom to check on her every night.

Now, you were faced with a decision. Your daughter’s life, or your husband’s secret.

“Sweetie, call your, Dad. Right now! Do you hear me! Call, Dad!”

Jamie’s voice was equal parts confused and scared. “What can Dad do?”

“Just do it! Trust me, baby, he’ll be able to help. Call him!”

“O-Okay… I love you, Mom.”

Your fingers clenched on your phone. “I love you, too, Jamie. Call your, Dad.”

The dial tone felt like a stake through the heart.

You could only watch the TV in quiet horror, the shaky helicopter footage showing how the bus was teetering on the edge, only the concrete barrier that was caught in it’s rear axle keeping it from plummeting into the water far below.

Anxiety and fear had you phoning Eddie, nearly crying when it went to voicemail. You didn’t leave a message, merely ended the call, clasping your hands together to stop them from shaking as you glued your eyes to the TV. Eddie, Venom, I love you both, please save our baby girl.

Whether it was fate or God or some otherworldly interference, you almost cheered when a familiar black and white form appeared on camera. Instantly, the newscasters started babbling about Venom’s appearance, fearing for the children.

The urge to strangle the anchor of the news station made your hands curl into claws.

Holding your breath, you watched as Venom sent out numerous webs, anchoring the bus’s front end to keep it from sliding further before swinging under it. You knew Venom was strong, almost cheered as you watched the city bus start to lift, the helicopter lowering a little to catch sight of him as he clung to the edge of the bridge with one hand and rose the bus above his head with the other.

It was only when he’d shoved the bus back onto the bridge that you exhaled, thanking any listening deity for your husband(s).

The newscasters were flummoxed as Venom climbed up onto the bridge, giving the bus a final push that moved it onto the road, well away from the broken edge. He paid the helicopter and police little mind as he ripped the side of the bus open, wincing a little the chorus of screams from the people inside.

All of them recoiled to the far side, as far from Venom as they could. All, but for one girl, who merely stood there, blinking in shock and recognition. You saw her mouth move, couldn’t tell what she said, but it made Venom smile and reach out to hold a large, taloned, hand out to her.

Police and newscasters yelled in horror when she slid her hand into his, and you watched as he gently tugged her into an one-armed hug, black tendrils lashing around her waist to anchor her to him before he leapt off the edge of the bridge.

The helicopter gave chase as Venom web-slinged his way along the underside of the bridge and into the City proper, and you clicked the TV off, rising from the couch and going to unlock the window.

You knew Venom would easily lose the helicopter and the police. Knew that he’d head right home, your baby girl safe in his arms.

The next ten minutes went by in a slow crawl as you paced the living-room, all thoughts of decorating the apartment gone. All you wanted was to hug your daughter and reassure yourself that she was alive.

A familiar thump against the side of the building made you run to the window, tears gathering in your eyes again as Venom gently guided Jamie through.

She fairly threw herself at you, and you wrapped her up in a fierce hug, sobbing helplessly as she dried her own tears against your shirt. Felt Venom’s arms curl around you both, pulling you to his chest, and you rose your head from Jamie’s hair to press a kiss to his fangs. “Thank you.”

“SHH, MORSEL" He ducked his head to nuzzle at Jamie’s hair. “WE’D NEVER LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO OUR LITTLE NIBBLE.”

The girl in your arms hiccuped a little, then rose her head to stare at Venom. “I remember you… Are you really my Dad?”

Venom tilted his head at her. “IN A SENSE. HE’LL EXPLAIN.” Turing to you, he rose a hand to your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. “LOVE YOU.”

“Love you,” you murmured, smiling a little. Watched, hearing Jamie’s soft gasp of shock, as the symbiote peeled away from Eddie, baring his face, before the blackness reformed around him in the guise of boots, jeans and a button down shirt. “I love you, too.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead, then did the same to a wide-eyed Jamie. “No doubt you have questions.”

She nodded, quietly, still holding onto you, and you slid a hand down her back reassuringly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We knew you’d find out sooner or later.”

Her face scrunched up in a frown. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we’re… well, you know Venom’s rap in this City. We wanted to keep you safe.” Eddie’s lips quirked in a smile. “When you were little, you used to draw pictures of Venom. Your first word was ‘Vee’ - He loved that by the way. But we couldn’t take the chance that you’d accidentally tell someone about him. There are people who would use you and your Mom against us, to hurt you and we… We can’t let that happen.”

You sighed and hugged her. “We were waiting for the right time to tell you. We just kept putting it off. And… with all the bad press, Venom was even worried that you’d be afraid of him.”

Jamie visibly gave that some thought. “I remember him, a little bit. He used to… sing?”

“It’s more of a purr,” you smiled, chuckling when the symbiote extended a tendril from Eddie’s ‘shirt’ to touch your cheek. “When you were a baby, and you couldn’t sleep, the best way to calm you down was for him to purr to you and rock you to sleep in his arms.”

“So… He’s… You’re him, too, Dad? How does that work?”

“Ah. Venom is a symbiote. An alien.” Eddie chuckled at the shocked look Jamie gave him. “It’s a long story, but the gist of it is that symbiotes need a host to survive, and it bonded with me. Took a bit of getting used to, but we worked out a compromise. Venom would never hurt you, though, sweetie. He loves you just as much as your Mom and I do.”

You squeezed her to you in another hug, then rose a hand to smooth down her messy hair, idly tucking some loose strands behind her left ear. Jamie glanced at you, then at Eddie. “What about what the news says?”

He winced a little, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Venom takes the ‘lethal’ part of ‘protector’ a little too seriously. But, we only hurt the bad guys!”

“And Billy Marsh?”

You narrowed your eyes a little and turned to Eddie, who now looked embarrassed. “Yes, pray tell, what about Billy Marsh?” The boy had been a horrible bully to your daughter from grade four through grade six. Then he’d just stopped and started avoiding Jamie like the plague, nearly panicking every time she’d even gone near him.

“Um….”

Apparently free to show itself now, the symbiote rose to cover Eddie again, who merely rolled his eyes and let the transformation take place.

“NO ONE HURTS OUR OFFSPRING,” Venom growled, blinking when you turned a glare onto him. He shifted from foot to foot, glancing away, then huffed. “WE DIDN’T HURT HIM, MORSEL. MERELY… SCARED HIM A LITTLE.”

Jamie snickered a little at the scowl you gave him, and his nervous fidgeting. “Thank you, Venom.”

“Jamie!”

“What? Billy’s a prick, Mom.“

“LANGUAGE, NIBBLE,” Venom rumbled, snickering at the unimpressed look she gave him.

You sighed, then decided that since it was done, there was no point arguing over it. If Venom said he hadn’t hurt the boy, then you believed him - Billy was still alive after all. The symbiote was capable of exercising restraint. It was rare, but it happened.

“Still. It... explains some things.”

Venom exchanged a curious look with you. “What things, sweetie?”

Your daughter gave you a little squeeze before pulling away, and you watched in awe and a little horror as she jumped up, twisted in mid air, and landed on the ceiling, sticking to it with feet and hands.

Venom’s jaw dropped.

You sighed and rose a hand to your now aching temple. “Fucksakes.”

“H-How--?” Venom, apparently, had lost the ability to speak and function, because the symbiote was partially pulled away from Eddie, letting the shocked man’s voice come through.

Jamie shrugged, then hopped down to the floor. “About a year ago. I slipped in the shower and my hand stuck to the wall when I tried to catch myself.”

“A year?!” You tried, very hard, to keep your voice level and not freaked out. “Why-- Why didn’t you tell us?!”

She shrugged, glancing away, wringing her lands a little. “Thomas’ parents sent him away when they found out he was a mutant.”

You blinked, then rushed over to hug her again, hearing Venom’s angry rumble as you spoke, feeling her tighten her arms around your waist as she hid her face against your shoulder. “We would never! Never! They’d have to pry you from my cold, dead, hands!”

“AS IF WE WOULD LET THAT HAPPEN,” Venom snarled, reforming around Eddie, his arms wrapping around both of you to pull you into a massive hug. Rumbling, he ducked his head to nuzzle at the top of Jamie’s head. “YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD US NIBBLE.”

Jamie had a mildly-irritated look on her face when he looked up at both of you. “Like you guys should have told me that Venom is also my Dad?”

Pale eyes glanced at you, and you sighed. “Touche. Yes, we should have told you. A long time ago. And... honestly, Venom knew you were different the day you were born. You, ah... inherited some of his abilities.”

Jamie’s immediate question made you sigh again, knowing that Venom’s ability to be stern with your daughter was nil. Pretty much, you now had two teenagers in the house.

“Sooo…” Jamie rose her gaze to a curious Venom and grinned. “Does that mean you’ll being me web slinging again?”

[delphinidin4]

 Forty-five percent of adults say they’re preoccupied with their weight some or all of the time—an 11-point rise since 1990. Nearly half of 3- to 6- year old girls say they worry about being fat. 

...

 I have never written a story where so many of my sources cried during interviews, where they shook with anger describing their interactions with doctors and strangers and their own families.

Chances of a woman classified as obese achieving a “normal” weight:.008%

SOURCE: AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PUBLIC HEALTH, 2015

Diets do not work. Not just paleo or Atkins or Weight Watchers or Goop, but all diets. Since 1959, research has shown that 95 to 98 percent of attempts to lose weight fail and that two-thirds of dieters gain back more than they lost. The reasons are biological and irreversible. As early as 1969, research showed that losing just 3 percent of your body weight resulted in a 17 percent slowdown in your metabolism

“As a kid, I thought that fat people were just lonely and sad—almost like these pathetic lost causes. So I want to show that we get to experience love, too. I’m not some 'fat friend' or some dude's chubby chasing dream. I'm genuinely happy. I just wish I'd known how possible that was when I was a kiddo.”— CORISSA ENNEKING

“If you looked at anything other than my weight,” Enneking says now, “I had an eating disorder. And my doctor was congratulating me.”

...

This phenomenon is not merely anecdotal. Doctors have shorter appointments with fat patients and show less emotional rapport in the minutes they do have. Negative words—“noncompliant,” “overindulgent,” “weak willed”—pop up in their medical histories with higher frequency. ... In 2011, the Sun-Sentinel polled OB-GYNs in South Florida and discovered that 14 percent had barred all new patients weighing more than 200 pounds.

...

When Joy Cox, an academic in New Jersey, was 16, she went to the hospital with stomach pains. The doctor didn’t diagnose her dangerously inflamed bile duct, but he did, out of nowhere, suggest that she’d get better if she stopped eating so much fried chicken. “He managed to denigrate my fatness and my blackness in the same sentence,” she says.

“There is so much agency taken from marginalized groups to mute their voices and mask their existence. Being depicted as a female CEO—one who is also black and fat—means so much to me. It is a representation of the reclamation of power in the boardroom, classroom and living room of my body. I own all of this.”— JOY COX

Physicians are often required, in writing, to prove to hospital administrators and insurance providers that they have brought up their patient’s weight and formulated a plan to bring it down—regardless of whether that patient came in with arthritis or a broken arm or a bad sunburn. Failing to do that could result in poor performance reviews, low ratings from insurance companies or being denied reimbursement if they refer patients to specialized care. 

...

Three separate studies have found that fat women are more likely to die from breast and cervical cancers than non-fat women, a result partially attributed to their reluctance to see doctors and get screenings. Erin Harrop, a researcher at the University of Washington, studies higher-weight women with anorexia, who, contrary to the size-zero stereotype of most media depictions, are twice as likely to report vomiting, using laxatives and abusing diet pills. Thin women, Harrop discovered, take around three years to get into treatment, while her participants spent an average of 13 and a half years waiting for their disorders to be addressed.

...

If Sonya ever forgets that she is fat, the world will remind her. She has stopped taking the bus, she tells me, because she can sense the aggravation of the passengers squeezing past her. Sarah, the tech CEO, tenses up when anyone brings bagels to a work meeting. If she reaches for one, are her employees thinking, “There goes the fat boss”? If she doesn’t, are they silently congratulating her for showing some restraint?

Emily says it’s the do-gooders who get to her, the women who stop her on the street and tell her how brave she is for wearing a sleeveless dress on a 95-degree day.

Ratio of soda and candy ads seen by black children compared to white children: 2:1

SOURCE: UCONN RUDD CENTER FOR FOOD POLICY AND OBESITY, 2015

This is how fat-shaming works: It is visible and invisible, public and private, hidden and everywhere at the same time. Research consistently finds that larger Americans (especially larger women) earn lower salaries and are less likely to be hired and promoted.... What’s worse, only a few cities and one state (nice work, Michigan) officially prohibit workplace discrimination on the basis of weight.

...Paradoxically, as the number of larger Americans has risen, the biases against them have become more severe. More than 40 percent of Americans classified as obese now say they experience stigma on a daily basis, a rate far higher than any other minority group. And this does terrible things to their bodies. According to a 2015 study, fat people who feel discriminated against have shorter life expectancies than fat people who don't. “These findings suggest the possibility that the stigma associated with being overweight,” the study concluded, “is more harmful than actually being overweight.”

...

Kids as young as 3 describe their larger classmates with words like “mean,” “stupid” and “lazy.”

And yet, despite weight being the number one reason children are bullied at school, America’s institutions of public health continue to pursue policies perfectly designed to inflame the cruelty. TV and billboard campaigns still use slogans like “Too much screen time, too much kid” and “Being fat takes the fun out of being a kid.” Cat Pausé, a researcher at Massey University in New Zealand, spent months looking for a single public health campaign, worldwide, that attempted to reduce stigma against fat people and came up empty. In an incendiary case of good intentions gone bad, about a dozen states now send children home with “BMI report cards,” an intervention unlikely to have any effect on their weight but almost certain to increase bullying from the people closest to them. [I have a friend who had to take a paper home in high school telling her family she was obese. Now, in her late twenties, she’s still dealing with the emotional scars.]

...

The effects of weight bias get worse when they’re layered on top of other types of discrimination. A 2012 study found that African-American women are more likely to become depressed after internalizing weight stigma than white women. Hispanic and black teenagers also have significantly higher rates of bulimia. And, in a remarkable finding, rich people of color have higher rates of cardiovascular disease than poor people of color—the opposite of what happens with white people. One explanation is that navigating increasingly white spaces, and increasingly higher stakes, exerts stress on racial minorities that, over time, makes them more susceptible to heart problems.

...

But perhaps the most unique aspect of weight stigma is how it isolates its victims from one another. For most minority groups, discrimination contributes to a sense of belongingness, a community in opposition to a majority. Gay people like other gay people; Mormons root for other Mormons. Surveys of higher-weight people, however, reveal that they hold many of the same biases as the people discriminating against them. In a 2005 study, the words obese participants used to classify other obese people included gluttonous, unclean and sluggish.

...

Fat people, though, never get a moment of declaring their identity, of marking themselves as part of a distinct group. They still live in a society that believes weight is temporary, that losing it is urgent and achievable, that being comfortable in their bodies is merely “glorifying obesity.” This limbo, this lie, is why it’s so hard for fat people to discover one another or even themselves. “No one believes our It Gets Better story,” says Tigress Osborn, the director of community outreach for the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance. “You can’t claim an identity if everyone around you is saying it doesn’t or shouldn’t exist.”

“I think some folks are genuinely surprised that a man who looks like him is with a woman like me. As a fat person, I'm very aware of when I'm being stared at—and I have never been looked at this much before. So I thought that taking the photo in public would be a good idea. It feels subversive to show my fat body doing regular stuff the world believes I don't or can't do.”— EMILY

Since 1980, the obesity rate has doubled in 73 countries and increased in 113 others. And in all that time, no nation has reduced its obesity rate. Not one.

...

The problem is that in America, like everywhere else, our institutions of public health have become so obsessed with body weight that they have overlooked what is really killing us: our food supply. Diet is the leading cause of death in the United States, responsible for more than five times the fatalities of gun violence and car accidents combined. But it’s not how much we’re eating—Americans actually consume fewer calories now than we did in 2003. It’s what we’re eating.

For more than a decade now, researchers have found that the quality of our food affects disease risk independently of its effect on weight. Fructose, for example, appears to damage insulin sensitivity and liver function more than other sweeteners with the same number of calories. People who eat nuts four times a week have 12 percent lower diabetes incidence and a 13 percent lower mortality rate regardless of their weight. All of our biological systems for regulating energy, hunger and satiety get thrown off by eating foods that are high in sugar, low in fiber and injected with additives. And which now, shockingly, make up 60 percent of the calories we eat.

4% of all agricultural subsidies go to fruits and vegetables.

SOURCE: ENVIRONMENTAL WORKING GROUP, 2014-16

But that’s still no reason to despair. There’s a lot we can do right now to improve fat people’s lives—to shift our focus for the first time from weight to health and from shame to support.

...

In 2017, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, the expert panel that decides which treatments should be offered for free under Obamacare, found that the decisive factor in obesity care was not the diet patients went on, but how much attention and support they received while they were on it. Participants who got more than 12 sessions with a dietician saw significant reductions in their rates of prediabetes and cardiovascular risk. Those who got less personalized care showed almost no improvement at all.

“My son and I both like to play the hero. There wasn't necessarily any intentional symbolism in the costumes we chose, but I am definitely a member of the rebellion, and I see my role as an eating disorders researcher as trying to fight for justice and a better world. Also, I like that I'm sweaty, dirty and messy, not done up with makeup or with my hair down in this picture. I like that I'm not hiding my stomach, thighs or arms. Not because I'm comfortable being photographed like that, but because I want to be—and I want others to feel free to be like that, too.”— ERIN HARROP

A review of 44 international studies found that school-based activity programs didn’t affect kids’ weight, but improved their athletic ability, tripled the amount of time they spent exercising and reduced their daily TV consumption by up to an hour. Another survey showed that two years of getting kids to exercise and eat better didn’t noticeably affect their size but did improve their math scores—an effect that was greater for black kids than white kids.

You see this in so much of the research: The most effective health interventions aren't actually health interventions—they are policies that ease the hardship of poverty and free up time for movement and play and parenting. Developing countries with higher wages for women have lower obesity rates, and lives are transformed when healthy food is made cheaper. A pilot program in Massachusetts that gave food stamp recipients an extra 30 cents for every $1 they spent on healthy food increased fruit and vegetable consumption by 26 percent. Policies like this are unlikely to affect our weight. They are almost certain, however, to significantly improve our health.

...

What does work, Corrigan says, is for fat people to make it clear to everyone they interact with that their size is nothing to apologize for. “When you pity someone, you think they’re less effective, less competent, more hurt,” he says. “You don’t see them as capable. The only way to get rid of stigma is from power.”

...

This has always been the great hope of the fat-acceptance movement. (“We’re here, we’re spheres, get used to it” was one of the slogans in the 1990s.) But this radical message has long since been co-opted by clothing brands, diet companies and soap corporations. Weight Watchers has rebranded as a “lifestyle program,” but still promises that its members can shrink their way to happiness. Mainstream apparel companies market themselves as “body positive” but refuse to make clothes that fit the plus-size models on their own billboards.

...

“Fat activism isn’t about making people feel better about themselves,” Pausé says. “It’s about not being denied your civil rights and not dying because a doctor misdiagnoses you.”

...

There is no magical cure. There is no time machine. There is only the revolutionary act of being fat and happy in a world that tells you that’s impossible.

“We all have to do our best with the body that we have,” [Ginette Lenham] says. “And leave everyone else’s alone.”

[darknessfactor]

Prompt: Post-CW. Romanogers. Steve has saved Bucky, and he's rescued his friends, but Natasha is still eluding him, and he realizes that he would tear apart the whole world to find her.

A/N: It’s been 84 years… actually I don’t even remember when I got this prompt because Tumblr asks don’t have timestamps.  Anyway!  I was supposed to write this a LONG time ago and I… didn’t.  So I’m doing it now.

Steve starts in Moscow.  

It’s a little bit on-the-nose, but going to the Barton farm is out of the question (especially since Clint’s there, on house arrest), and he doesn’t know any of Nat’s other haunts.  If she’d ever talked about the months after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., he might have a better idea of where to look.

Nat’s never been the talkative type, though.

So, Moscow it is.  One of the fake IDs from T’Challa is enough to get him across the border and into Russia, and his dyed hair and stubble is enough for most people to not look at him twice.  He’s thinking he’ll let the beard grow a bit, to keep his face from being recognized.  He keeps a careful eye out for cameras as he walks down the street, checking in at a little hostel where the receptionist is only a little bit critical of his accented Russian.

(It’s almost easier to speak Russian than it is the other languages he’s amassed over time.  Natasha had been teaching him, and would slip into it at random moments to keep him on his toes.  She’s said that his accent probably can’t be helped.  “But at least you can ask where the bathroom is,” she’d said, smirking.)

He’s playing the part of a tourist, but one that was born in Russia, whose parents moved to Switzerland shortly after his birth.  That’s how he explains the accent when one of the women in the communal kitchen asks him about it.  He’s able to chat amiably enough with the other hostel residents, asking them about the sights in Moscow and where he ought to go.

Someone mentions the Bolshoi, and his mind clicks.  He asks directions to the theatre, giving a nod of thanks at the man who tells him.  He heads there, wearing his customary baseball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes and a light jacket.  

Steve doesn’t find anything at the Bolshoi Theatre, which doesn’t surprise him.  He knew that expecting Natasha to be in Moscow was a long shot, but he also knew that he had to start somewhere.  He stays in the city a few more days, wandering around, trying to find some kind of clue as to where Natasha might be, but there’s nothing.

After day four, he leaves.  He can’t afford to stay in one place for long, anymore.

Steve is a bit more suited to life on the run than he thought he’d be.

The only other time he’s had to deal with it was in D.C., and then it had felt wrong, as though he were sticking out like a sore thumb.  It’s easier now - easier to roll with it, to use his ‘natural awkwardness’ (Natasha’s words) to his advantage.  Most people look at him and see a good-looking, kind of bumbling guy, and it works, somehow.

He has a couple of close calls.  He’s fairly sure he gets made in Monaco, but he books it over to Nice on a bus before he can see who’s after him.  He takes a ferry to Moracco and loses himself in the blistering sun for a while.  There’s still no hide nor hair of Nat, but everyone else has checked in with him multiple times.  

Wanda is somewhere in Hong Kong, apparently with a shaved head, color contacts, and heavier makeup.  She explains that it’s a disguise that she and Natasha worked out before everything went to shit, and Steve rolls his eyes at Natasha’s ‘creative streak’.  

“You probably could’ve found something a little more low-key,” he points out.

“I am told that that is ‘no fun’.”

Sharon’s playing things close to the chest, slipping back to America and keeping a low profile in Chicago, of all places.  Their conversations are friendly, and she gets a laugh out of Steve more than once, but it settles into something more like friendship than what he thought it might be back in Berlin.  Either way, he’s always glad to hear she’s doing alright.

Clint and Scott don’t check in - too risky for their families.  Sam, however, is currently running around in Cape Town, enjoying the sights, but also keeping an eye out.

“Last person to see her that we know is probably Tony,” he says, during his phone call.  “And even then I doubt she said ‘hey Stark, I’m going on the run now, you can reach me at this address’.  Not exactly her style, you know?”

Steve snorts.  “Nah, her style is more ‘see you never’ and then jumping out a window.”

“Kinda like you?”

“I wouldn’t open the window first.”

“What makes you think she would?”

Steve huffs a laugh.

“Look, man… I doubt we’re gonna find her unless she wants to be found.  No news is good news - if we’ve heard nothing, then it means that she’s probably fine.  Sitting on a beach somewhere, drinking vodka cranberries.  Something with vodka.  So why are you so hung up on finding her?”

Steve pauses for a moment, and lets out a long breath.  “She didn’t have to do what she did,” he says.  “She risked everything to help me and Bucky.  Her heart was in the right place more than any of us, and it feels wrong that I just… left her to the consequences.”

“She got out,” Sam says quietly.  “She must have.  It’d be all over the headlines if she hadn’t.”

“I know.”

“Look,” Sam says.  “My advice?  Be patient.  When she wants you to find her, she’ll let you know.”

Steve’s about five months in to his status as a fugitive when the rumors start.  He’s started to build connections outside of the law, even though some of the characters he meets are… less than savory.  Still, it makes it easier to have contacts that know the goings-on of the international underworld.

If any of them recognize him, they never show it.  Instead, they start nicknaming him ‘Nomad’.

“Big guy like you,” says Rajiv, his contact in India, “you could probably pick up a few jobs.  Make some money.”

Steve has been gathering money from various caches that Natasha had insisted he set up after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, but even though he’s been frugal it’s starting to run dry.  He considers the idea - mercenary work isn’t exactly all that different than avenging, although it often involves more dirty work.  But when he’s playing cards with his contact in Vancouver, he hears some interesting news.

“There’s a new merc on the scene,” Mina tells him.  She owns the bar they’re sitting in, and runs guns through it.  “Rising star, gaining infamy fast.  Like, crazy fast.  Never fails a job.  She’s good.”

Steve pauses, glancing at his cards.  He’s shit at poker, but it’s the best way to loosen Mina’s tongue.  “Uh-huh?”

Mina smirks.  “All the ones who get their weaponry from me are pissed to hell and back.  Lotta people want to give the best jobs to her.  Never gives a proper name, though, so everyone just calls her Recluse.  Kinda funny, huh, Nomad.”

“Maybe she copied me,” Steve says blandly.

“Maybe, if you’d actually taken any jobs,” Mina retorts.  “C’mon, Nomad, everyone who’s worth anything can see that you’re good in a fight.  I got a few clients around here who’d be willing to pay you some good money.”

“Recluse, huh?” Steve asks.  “I’ll think about it.”

Later, he’s the one to contact Sam.  Sam’s voice is groggy, like Steve had just woken him up, but Steve doesn’t give him time to recover.  “What’ve you got on a merc named Recluse?”

“A merc?” Sam groaned.  “What, are we gonna be vigilantes, now?  We taking out big-name mercs?”

“Not sure yet.”

Sam grumbles for a moment, but his voice is more alert when he speaks next.  “Recluse, huh?  You know, I think I have heard the name come up a few times.  No one knows her name, but she’s good.  Doesn’t fail a job.  She’s getting expensive quickly.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard, too,” Steve says.  “You think it might be…?”

Sam pauses, then starts laughing.  Steve opens his mouth to explain his reasoning, but Sam beats him to the punch.

“Nah, sorry,” he says, still laughing.  “I’m not laughing because - because I think it’s ridiculous, it’s just - “  He chortles some more.  “You ever heard of the recluse spider?”

‘Nomad’ ends up taking a job in Amsterdam.  He’s just starting out, so he’s aware that he doesn’t have too many choices, but he manages to get a job taking out a human trafficking boss, and he doesn’t feel all that guilty for that.  

It’s fairly simple - he pulls on a mask, beats the shit out of the guy’s security, and breaks the guy’s neck.  He grimaces afterwards, but the job is done, and at least it was quick.  He would’ve preferred to detain the guy, but he’s had to get his hands dirty before, and now that he’s a ghost, it’s harder to avoid it.

He gets a hefty sum for his work (in cash, thankfully), and a slap on the back from his contact in the city.  It’s the first building block for his reputation, and the more jobs he takes, the more people are buzzing about him.  He’s careful to dial down his strength as much as he can, so that the various agencies in the world looking for Steve Rogers hear about Nomad and only think about a dangerous but normal mercenary.

“Kicking ass and taking names, Cap,” Sam says, during his next call.  “Man, what will people say?”

“A guy’s gotta eat,” Steve answers.

Eventually, he gets asked for by Samia, a retired mercenary living in Algiers, who tells him that she’s got ‘a real big score’ lined up for him.  He scouts out around her house before he rings the doorbell, but it’s not Samia who answers.

He feels like he’s been expecting this moment for months, but it still takes him by surprise.

The hair is the biggest change.  It’s a platinum blond, now, and it’s short again.  The green tac suit is new, too, as are the unusual batons she’s wielding.  The smirk she’s wearing as she looks at him, though, is familiar.

“‘Bout time, Nomad,” she teases, waving him inside.

Steve nods at her.  “Recluse.”

She looks pleased.

Samia’s eyeing the two of them from the entrance to her kitchen, but she doesn’t seem that alarmed by their exchange.  “Didn’t know you two knew each other,” she says.

“We don’t,” they say at the same time.

The job is more of a heist than anything else, but Natasha makes it look natural.  They break into a mansion in Malta that has more security than most agency buildings, grab a flash drive from the owner’s bedroom (with the owner sleeping, in the bed, not five feet away from the safe they crack).  They’re in and out, no one’s the wiser, and they split their earnings between them.

Steve half-expects... well, he isn’t sure what to expect.  He’s grateful, though, when Natasha doesn’t disappear on him, instead accompanying him back to the hotel he’s staying in.  He sends her an exhausted, but grateful, smile when she suggests she go buy them some celebratory vodka.

“I know you like vodka,” she calls as she leaves, having changed into street clothes.  “Even if it can’t get you drunk.”

Steve takes the time to shower as quickly as possible (the water in his bathroom isn’t always guaranteed to work), and changes into jeans and a sweater just before Natasha gets back.  Her eyes are warm as she waves the bottle at him, holding up two glasses.

“Where’d you get those?” Steve asks.

“Borrowed ‘em.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

Even though it’s been nearly a year since they last saw each other (and that hadn’t been under the best of circumstances), their conversation is light and casual.  When he relaxes enough it feels like she’s never been gone, and it’s only when he remembers that that he realizes just how much he missed her.

“So,” he says, pouring himself another shot.  “Mercenary work?”

Natasha shrugged.  “It’s familiar,” she said.  At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated, “it’s what I did before S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Thought you were with the K.G.B.”

“I was.”  Natasha paused, a haunted look appearing in her eyes.  “This was... in-between, I guess.  I burned down the Red Room and ran away, and becoming a merc was the only thing I could think of to survive.  It was a rough time.  Kinda surprised that you picked it up, though.”

Steve chuckled.  “Sam figured it out, and I couldn’t really think of a better way to send a message back.  Figured you’d know it was me.”

“Big, buff guy named Nomad pulls off jobs with ruthless efficiency only a little bit after I started building a new rep?”  She elbows him lightly.  “Yeah, it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“It’s not so terrible,” Steve admitted.  “Nice to be able to pick and choose stuff.  Most of the time.”

They fell silent, after that.  Their glasses forgotten, they opted instead to pass the bottle back and forth between them.  Natasha didn’t seem to be the least bit affected by the alcohol, something that Steve had learned not to question.

Steve finally musters the courage to say, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you to deal with the fallout.  At Leipzig.”

Natasha shrugs.  “I had it handled.  Stark gave me a head start.  Which, he was smart enough to know that giving me any kind of head start meant that he wouldn’t be able to find me.”

“Still,” Steve says.  “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that on your own.”

Natasha’s smile is hollow, this time.  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The smart thing to do would be for them to split up after Algiers - to go their separate ways so that they have less of a chance of being caught.

They don’t.

Instead, Steve and Natasha end up masquerading everywhere as a tourist couple.  Either that, or (when they find a job worth their time) they partner up for work.  It reminds Steve of back when they were partners at S.H.I.E.L.D., even though that feels like a lifetime ago.  

Pretending to be a couple is almost ridiculously easy - mostly because they like to try to one-up each other with how sickeningly in love their covers are.  Natasha’s currently winning, having actually recited poetry while they watched the sunset.  (It was somewhat ruined by Steve almost falling over laughing, once they were back at their hotel and away from prying ears.)

Doing mercenary work is even easier.  They barely have to talk to anticipate each other’s moves, and planning the jobs is familiar, a relic from their days leading the Avengers together.  It’s comfortable, but they’re both careful to keep it from getting too comfortable - always moving on, never quite trusting their contacts in the underworld.

Steve calls Sam two weeks into their partnership.

“Told you so,” Sam says, when Steve explains.

“Hi Sam,” Nat says into the receiver, appearing out of nowhere next to Steve and making him jump and glare at her.  She wiggles her fingers at him and then heads to the bathroom to shower.

“Hi Nat,” Sam says, sounding amused.

They’re in a hotel in Tokyo when something shifts.  Steve isn’t sure what it is, only that suddenly their hotel room is too confining, and he tells Natasha that he’s going for a quick walk.  The streets in Ikebukuro aren’t as brightly lit as other parts of the city, but they calm his sudden anxiety, and he takes longer than he’d expected, wandering the city.  

When he gets back, Natasha’s somehow managed to fit herself on the windowsill, staring down at the street below them.  She turns her head and shoots him a tired smile.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” he says.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Sleep for Natasha doesn’t seem to happen very often, from what he’s noticed, but this is the first time she’s admitted it out loud.  Before he can put too much thought into what he’s doing, he settles himself on his bed and pats the space beside him.  It’s not much, but it should be enough room for Natasha.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but Steve just gazes at her.  After a long moment, she uncurls from the windowsill and lies down next to him, unreserved as she presses into his side.  He wraps an arm around her waist.  

It takes maybe half an hour, but eventually he hears a light snore from her, and smiles.

Steve wakes up to find Natasha wearing a hole in the floor.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Natasha proclaims.

Steve pauses in folding his socks.  “Uh...”

She stops pacing, and turns towards him, jabbing a finger in his direction.  “You.  I like you.”

“I like you too...?”

Natasha makes a frustrated noise, and then takes two steps forward and kisses him.

It’s not exactly new - they’ve been kissing each other whenever they’re in public, selling the idea that they’re a couple.  But this feels more honest than that, and Steve relaxes, settling his hands on her hips.  When she pulls back, she looks a little bit less nonplussed.

They stare at each other, breathing heavily for a few seconds, when Steve says, “You actually had me thinking you were, like... smooth when it came to romance, or something.”

Natasha snorts.  “What gave you that idea?”

“Yeah, obviously I should’ve known better.  Now I’m just grateful that you never actually succeeding at setting me up with someone, seeing as how it obviously would’ve ended in disaster - “

She shuts him up.  Steve doesn’t mind.

[margarethelstone]

That Hopelessness of Mine

She was weary, she was sick, she was completely unable to focus. She, the Astrid Hofferson, the most hard-working student the University of Berk had ever taught, suddenly appeared to be perfectly indifferent to what was happening around her. Her life was an utter mess – and a ridiculously handsome, green-eyed stranger was the last person she needed to meet.” Hiccstrid modern AU.

fanfiction.net / AO3

Chapter 4

“No, no, no… No!” she cried out in desperation a moment after her discovery, rummaging through her bag, frantically searching for the item she hadn’t even thought about half a minute earlier. "It has to be here! I put it inside this morning, and I had it with me at the University, it couldn’t just disappear. It must be here, somewhere!”

But it wasn’t.

Feeling herself on the verge of tears – again – Astrid grabbed her purse in both of her hands and turned it upside down, letting her belongings fall on the soft surface of the sofa, still fooling herself that it would allow her to find the wallet that was otherwise escaping her notice. She threw the empty bag on the floor right after and focused on going through its contents once more, and every next second just made her more convinced that it was indeed just another hopeless business.

“Alright, Hofferson, calm down,” she ordered herself eventually, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, hoping to at least get her own nerves under control. She wouldn’t resolve anything in a state of such panic anyway. “Did I really put it in my bag in the morning? Wasn’t that yesterday? I don’t use the bus and I didn’t visit the library today, so I really might have missed the fact that I didn’t have the wallet with me. Oh, and I haven’t eaten anything for the entire day, either -”

You did down that huge coffee in the afternoon, though, and it certainly wasn’t Ruff who paid for it.

“Oh, shut up,” she answered her own mind that apparently decided that she didn’t deserve that last resort of hope she was clinging to so fiercely, as she plopped down on a chair and slouched, hiding her face behind her trembling fingers.

She knew she was naive to think of it in this way, but it was just too much. Why did it have to happen to her? Now, when she had finally found some peace, when she had allowed herself to relax a little, this had to happen, shattering all of the prospects of spending at least a few idle hours without stressing over how pathetic she was. Now, however? No chance she would get any of that.

Her money, her tickets, her ID cards – they were gone, all because she couldn’t have crossed half kilometre long distance without losing her balance and falling on the ground like the miserable idiot she was.

She jerked up her head, eyes wide in astonishment.

Certainly, she must have left it there! Just a few hundreds metres away, where her bag strap had fallen off. Maybe she was being childish and naive again, but if she hadn’t noticed the wallet lying anywhere close to where she’d stood, it was more than possible that no one else had. It must have landed between the rotting scrubs that she knew grew next to the footpath in that particular place, and, apparently, neither she or her saviour was perceptive enough to have noticed it earlier.

Of course, her own silly agitation at the time didn’t help with that.

In a sudden rush of energy, Astrid jumped from the chair and hurried to the door, barely remembering to put on her shoes and coat before she left. Her hair was still wet and tangled, and she still didn’t have a hat to put on her head, but it didn’t matter. Right now all she cared for was her phone, her keys and this little bit of luck she needed so much.

Still, her wallet wasn’t there.

Not on the pavement, not in the bushes, not anywhere close to either of them. Like with her bag earlier this evening, she searched and searched, checking every inch of the ground twice, praying that she would at least find her ID cards if nothing else.

Screw the money she thought, pretending like she didn’t care, screw the tickets, the photos, the slim, flat flash drive I never used anyway.

Screw the green-eyed, handsome jerks that made her lose her common sense.

“What is wrong with me?” she groaned as the realisation dawned on her, making her despise herself more than ever before, clenching her fists and kicking the kerb, indifferent to the pain that spread over her foot in result. “He took it. Of course he took it. He played his role of a decent guy, gave me back all of the worthless notes and pens and kept the only thing worth keeping. And to think I was grateful to have met him today!”

Oh, she wasn’t pathetic. She was just plain, plain stupid.

“Did I really blush and stutter for this?”

Or maybe she simply was both.

She groaned for what felt like a millionth time that day and returned to massaging her temple, desperate to at least soften the pounding headache that was only growing with the passage of time. She no longer tried to fight her anger, knowing that it was the last thing that still kept her from giving up to the final frustration – frustration that meant nothing but tears and resignation, not to mention even worse physical condition. So she kicked, and she hissed, and she kept cursing the previous encounter that had undoubtedly lead to her current state.

It had taken good few minutes and a couple of snorts before Astrid calmed down enough to make any sort of decision. She looked around in the last impulse of hope. Nothing was there – and she painfully realised that it would remain in that way, no matter how much she wanted it to change.

Her sigh was almost theatrical this time.

“I really should stop that,” she muttered under her breath, tucking her lose hair behind her ear, brushing away her fringe that was getting in her eyes. She was surprised it hadn’t frozen by this time but then again, not much made sense on this sad winter evening.

Some December that was.

Refraining from scanning the area again, the girl turned around and, slouched under the heavy blasts of the howling wind, she took the first of the many steps towards her apartment.

Alright, she thought as she walked past a group of students who must have just finished the last of their classes. Alright. If that’s how it must end, then so be it. The best I can do is to get back inside and call the bank, the police, or whatever institution that could take any interest in me losing my documents. And then it’s bed, and it’s for real this time, and I am not letting anything else get in my way again -

Goodness gracious, she almost sounded as if she’d had anything to say about this.

“I do,” she drawled through her gritted teeth, gaining herself a startled look from a very surprised passer-by. She ignored him completely. “I might be talking to myself, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind, and until that happens, I’m the one deciding what and how to do about my life. And since I can’t do more than those calls, I won’t worry about it, not for a second longer. Good Lord, I really need some sleep.”

She reached to the pocket of her jeans in search of her phone, curious to see how much time this unplanned escapade had taken her, only to feel it buzz in her hand before she’d had a chance to have a good look at the screen. She frowned at the sight of her mother’s photo.

Ingrid Hofferson never called without a good reason.

"Mum? What's wrong?" she asked in lieu of a greeting, already sensing the familiar knot in her stomach that appeared every time she got nervous. Normally, a call from her mother would result in nothing but her surprise but feeling the way she did that day...

...she had already come up with the most terrifying scenarios.

"What happened?" she repeated before the woman on the other side managed to answer.

She heard her mother sigh in response. "Really, Astrid, can't a mother call her daughter without a reason?"

"You never do," was Astrid's quiet answer. She tried to sound calm but at the same time she was almost perfectly sure Ingrid already knew she was not. "We both know we're better off texting and you're always busy at this time of day. So, what's the matter?"

"Don't you be so sure, young Lady, or I'll make sure to call you every two days just to stir that confidence of yours. I may be getting old, Astrid, but it doesn't mean I don't know how to surprise my family. You should ask Dad."

"Mum," Astrid interrupted, the corners of her lips twitching. Her mother was way too cheerful - and naturally so – to be herald of any bad news and the girl felt herself relax at last.

"Fine," her mother muttered in a mock-offended voice. "There might be a reason this time. But I could still call you if there wasn't and there would be nothing special about it."

"Of course not," Astrid mumbled with a smile. "So, mum, are you going to tell me what that reason is or are you going to keep me in the dark until I burst with curiosity and beg you for details myself?"

She almost heard her mother grin. "That would not be an unwelcome change, you know. But as much as I'd love to hear you plead for anything, I don't have as much time as I wish, so I'll get straight to the point – do you or do you not recall meeting any tall, dark-haired, ridiculously handsome young man today?"

Astrid stopped in her tracks, astonished, unable to utter a word of response. Her mind was blank, except for one thought that kept ringing in it.

You've got to be kidding me.

"I – I don't" she stammered, somehow managing not to stop in her tracks as she did; again, the teasing expression that undoubtedly appeared on her mother's countenance was almost audible. "I mean, yes. What?"

"Well, well, looks like after twenty years of trying I've finally succeeded in rendering my daughter speechless," came Ingrid's merciless comment. "Even though I suppose it's mostly the man's in question doing."

"Why would you even ask me that, mum?" Astrid tried to regain some of her lost dignity. "This question itself is ridiculous, not to mention, awfully specific. So, why?"

"Because he's sitting in the other room as we speak. He came in about five minutes ago, claiming that he'd found your wallet on the pavement."

Now was the time for Astrid to halt.

"What?" was another educated exclamation of hers. "How?"

"He would not share any details except that he there when your bag fell on the ground and that even though you managed to gather most of it, you somehow missed the wallet – and that you'd left the spot before he noticed it himself. Now, I won't pester about how it's possible you didn't check for the wallet in the first place, because I know that things like that happen sometimes. What I want to know, however, is: how the heck could you run away from a man like this?"

Against herself, Astrid burst into laugh. "Mum, I swear, you're worse than Ruff sometimes."

"I suppose she already shared her thoughts on the subject?"

"Yes, and she was very straightforward about it, too."

"I knew there was a reason why I loved that girl."

Astrid chuckled again, and sighed. "Alright, your comments apart – why is he there? It doesn't make sense."

"I suppose he followed the only clue he had, which is the address on your ID. And as it happens, it's still your home address."

"Of course. But -" Astrid hesitated, feeling the sudden pang of guilt as she remembered all the accusations she had already made towards the guy who truly had done nothing but helped her. "You want to tell me he drove all that way to the suburbs just because of this?"

"Seems like it."

"Oh, brother."

She pressed her hand to her forehead. She felt so happy, and surprised, and a little lost for words, not to mention, more and more ashamed of how easily she had judged the chivalrous young man. And she still needed to decide what to do with the fact that said man was comfortably seated in her mother's living room.

"Okay mum, listen," she said eventually. "This is all wonderful news but if we don't make some decisions now, I will collapse on the ground from exhaustion in moments and nothing good will come for it anyway. I am too tired to come home today – so would you please just ask the guy to leave it with you for now and I'll come and pick it up tomorrow after classes? I'm sure he's dying to get rid of it, too."

"See, that's the problem," her mother opposed. "He seems determined to only give it back to you, personally."

Astrid felt her good mood die again. She did not feel like spending two more hours in a bus today. "Mum, it doesn't make any sense. Even if I wasn't tired, it would still take me way too much time for him to wait. I'd have to go back to the flat, get some money – I am sure he has better things to do."

"He doesn't want you to come, but to bring the wallet back to you."

"To me? Wait, you didn't actually give him my address, did you?"

"Of course not," Ingrid as well as snorted. "But he says there is no point in your coming here, since he needs to get to the centre anyway; he's pretty stubborn, you know. So... Maybe just name a place and I'll tell him to meet you there? Although honestly, he seems like the kind of guy that you could safely meet in your own flat. I wouldn't mind you seeing him like this, anyway."

"Mum!"

She heard her mother laugh openly then and only shook her head at her wonderful parent's antics. She resumed her stroll towards her block. "Okay mum, I'll tell you what: today has been horrible, and I feel like garbage, and I'm definitely not going anywhere right now – so if you could just send the guy to my flat, that would be great. And if he turns out to be a serial rapist and killer... Well, at least you'll know exactly how to describe him to the police."

[punmasterkentparson]

Sleep Talk

inspired by this post, because i think it’d be hilarious if Alexei Mashkov talked in his sleep and unwittingly inflicted it on Kent. But then feelings happened?

also on ao3.

“I love you, big rat.”

Kent is in the process of picking his clothes off Alexei Mashkov’s hotel room floor in the near-dark when this statement comes from the bed. In slow motion, Kent turns. He can just make out Alexei’s silhouette from the lights of Vegas coming through the hotel room window.

He doesn’t know which he’s more baffled by: the love confession from a guy he literally just hooked up with last night, or the attached nickname that’s either an insult or an unfortunate mistranslation from Russian.

“...Sorry, what?”

Alexei is still horizontal in bed, but he shrugs as if he’s sitting up. He hasn’t even opened his eyes. “It’s fine. Take the turtles with you, they’re lonely.”

Kent gapes. “What turtles?”

“The ones underground. Don’t feed them after midnight.” Then, as if that has concluded the conversation, Alexei rolls over under the blankets and presumably goes back to sleep.

Kent pulls on his clothes and sneaks out of the room. As he drives himself home, he wonders under his breath, “Turtles?!”

--

All-Star weekend is a gift and a curse. It’s a curse because it pulls Kent out of regular season and away from his team. It’s a gift because he loves kicking ass in the skills competitions. But mostly, it’s a gift because this year, when he’s out at a bar and spots Mashkov watching him, the hot tingle he gets isn’t residual terror from the memory of being single-handedly yanked out of a dogpile and yelled at in Russian last year.

Okay, it isn’t just from the memory of that.

The first hookup had involved a some name-calling and taken a while to get from ‘resentful opponents’ to ‘resentful opponents working off sexual tension.’ This time, it’s easier. All Kent has to do is slip Mashkov a napkin with his room number on it and then tell everyone he’s calling it a night. The guys accuse him of being a wet blanket for ditching the party early, but that just means they’re all still out when Kent lets Mashkov into his room at the hotel.

Mashkov blows him on the bed, both of them still half-dressed, then turns Kent around and fucks his way to orgasm between Kent’s squeezed thighs. It’s almost as good a workout as the day’s events had been. It’s definitely more satisfying. Lying on the bed afterward, Kent feels like his brain has melted, in the best way.

Mashkov, facedown on the blankets at Kent’s left, grunts. “We messy. Get towel.”

Kent’s legs are slippery with lube and his muscles are jelly. “You get it.”

“Rock paper scissors you for not go.”

Kent snorts but holds up a hand. They throw down, and Mashkov loses.

After they’ve wiped up the spunk and Kent has graciously tossed the towel back in the bathroom, Mashkov rolls off the bed and starts collecting his clothes. Kent watches, thoroughly enjoying the muscular flex of Mashkov’s ass whenever he bends down. “You wanna just stay over?” he asks, without even thinking.

Mashkov turns, nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”

Kent shrugs. “’Cause I wanna blow you tomorrow morning, and if I do it in the locker room or the showers, the guys’ll complain.”

Mashkov laughs, shakes his head, and says, “Okay. It’s good plan.” He pulls his briefs back on but leaves off everything else. Kent goes to brush his teeth, and when he comes back to bed, Mashkov is already under the blankets and half-asleep. Even with the heat on in the room, Kent gravitates to pocket of warmth on Mashkov’s side.

Even though he can’t quite admit it to himself, he falls asleep faster and easier with Mashkov there. He even drops into a deeper sleep than usual.

So when Mashkov grabs his arm in the middle of the night, Kent startles awake like he’s been stabbed.

“The fuck!? Oh, shit. Mashkov, what the hell--”

Mashkov responds in Russian.

“I don’t know what the hell you just said?”

“Oh, sorry,” Mashkov says, in what is...Jesus Christ, is that Jack’s Canadian accent? “We’re not in Russia?”

“We’re in Florida. Why do you sound Canadian?”

Mashkov frowns. “What is he usually?” he asks, his accent now closer to Rhode Island.

Kent stares, wide-eyed, and for the first time in his life entertains the notion that body-snatchers are real. “You’re Russian? But you speak English?”

“Oh,” Mashkov says, thankfully back to his normal accent. “You don’t say.” And he lets go of Kent’s arm and rolls over. Within ten seconds, he’s snoring.

Kent can’t get back to sleep for another half hour.

--

In the morning, Kent wakes to find Mashkov already sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

"Do you talk in your sleep?" Kent blurts.

Mashkov jumps at the sound of Kent's voice. He puts his phone down and looks over. "Little bit? Why, I'm say something last night?" He's grinning.

"You grabbed me in the middle of the night and asked if we were in Russia. You had a Canadian accent. And you talked about yourself in the third person."

Mashkov laughs. "Sorry. It's happen sometimes. Never remember what I say."

"In Vegas you talked about turtles," Kent says accusingly.

Mashkov laughs some more and shrugs. "I don't know what it's mean. It's just my brain, you know? Say stuff, I'm not thinking."

"Your brain has weird thoughts."

Mashkov winks and puts his phone on the nightstand. "Maybe you guess what my brain is thinking about now? Give you hint, it's about your mouth and my dick."

Kent rolls his eyes and shoves him, right before ducking under the sheets.

--

They hook up twice more during the All-Star weekend. Then it's back to the regular season. They're on opposite ends of the country more often than not, but Kent somehow ended up with Alexei's phone number (and vice versa) so the distance between them seems to shrink.

It turns out that Alexei is fun to talk to even when he's NOT sleep-talking. He's a social media fiend who Instagrams everything he eats, and also things he wishes he could eat--like ice cream.

"I'm lactase intolerant," Alexei tells him over Skype one night. The video is off but they've got audio, and Kent is at home so he's multitasking by talking to Alexei and also cleaning Kit's endless toys off the floor. Alexei adds, "It was first English I learn when I come here. Because agent not want Mama and Papa kill him because I die in milk accident."

Kent laughs so hard that Kit flattens her ears. "So that's why your Instagam feed is full of cheese."

"Want to eat so much," Alexei moans. "Sometimes in off season I'm eat a little, even though make me sick and have gas. Trainer always know, always sigh like I'm disappoint her. And then ban me from office, sometimes weight room, because she say farts is smell too bad."

Kent laughs harder. "Shit, you're ridiculous."

"Takes one to know one," Alexei replies, and even through the connection, Kent can hear the grin.

A week later, Kent is in Toronto and Alexei is in Tampa. The Leafs trounce the Aces, and the Falcs lose in a shoot-out.

Kent doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wants to sleep. From the lack of texts on Alexei’s end, he guesses the feeling is shared. It’s fine. Everyone deals with losses their own way. Kent knows his own grief cycle by now, and how to get himself through it by the time he has to play another game. He gets on the bus to the hotel, chats with the guys who need to talk about it, and then goes to his hotel room and finds something mindless to watch for an hour. By the time he’s brushing his teeth and turning off the lights, he’s not exactly calm, but he’s not wound up so tightly that he’ll get caught in a spiral of doubt and self-blame the second his head hits the pillow.

He expects to fall asleep. He can’t.

Taking his phone off the nightstand, he checks for texts. There aren’t any. He sends a quick message anyway.

u up?

There’s no reply for such a long time that Kent gives up and puts the phone back. He’s just starting to drift when a buzz startles him back awake.

yes. skype?

Kent stares for a second. His heart thumps hard in his chest. He just sent a text, he wasn’t asking for...

He thumbs open the app and hits CALL.

Alexei answers without video. “Don’t want talk,” he says, apologetic. “Sorry. Just... sound. Room quiet, head loud.”

Kent is already lying back down, resting the phone near his head. “No, it’s okay. I get it.”

Rustling bedsheets come through the connection. “Thank you.”

Kent doesn’t say ‘you’re welcome,’ because he feels like he needs this, too. Alexei is right; the room is quiet and his head is still too loud. But with the background susurrus of someone else’s breath, he falls asleep within minutes.

Then, in the middle of the night, he stirs. It takes him a muddled moment to understand what woke him up. There’s a voice, tinny and digital, coming from his pillow, and it’s speaking in Russian.

Kent blinks at his phone, glowing in the dark. The Skype connection never cut out.

“Alexei? Are you sleep talking, or are you awake?”

“Fuck you, Santa Claus, you owe me twenty dollars,” Alexei replies, clear as day and clearly dead asleep. Kent has to bury his face in the pillow to keep from laughing. When he can manage speech, he says, “That dick. He should pay you.”

“If it’s yellow, they’ll buy it,” Alexei mutters, sounding pissed as hell. Kent puts his face back in the pillow; there are tears coming down his cheeks.

Alexei goes on, “Nevermind, it’s Wednesday,” and then two seconds later, snores lightly as he falls back into deep sleep.

It’s a long time before Kent calms down enough to sleep again. And even then, he’s still smiling.

--

The Aces’ last game of regular season is in Providence. It means nothing, because everyone has known since last week that the Falcs are going to the playoffs, while the Aces are not.

Kent works hard not to think of it as a throwaway game. He knows the team is just ready for the season to end. They missed a wild card spot by one point, which they’d have gotten if they’d pushed a game against the Hurricanes into overtime. And even though Kent knows that the Falconers win 3-2 because they’re riding the high of success while the Aces are mentally checked out, it still feels like the last nail in a coffin being lowered into a grave that he dug for himself through an entire season’s worth of small mistakes.

He doesn’t meet Alexei’s eyes when they go through the handshake line. For that reason, it’s not remotely a surprise when Alexei tries to call him after the game. But by then, the Aces are already on a flight back to Vegas, so Kent doesn’t get the notifications until after they’ve landed and disembarked.

Alexei called five times and left two messages. Kent ignores them all. When a sixth call comes through, he waits until it disconnects and then turns off his phone.

This isn’t like the few other times they Skyped overnight. Alexei can’t share this loss with him. Kent would rather he didn’t try.

--

Nashville knocks the Falcs from the playoffs in game seven of the second round. It makes Kent feel like a dick. Alexei has texted him several times and tried to call him as well, and Kent hasn’t responded, on the grounds that he wasn’t ready to stop feeling like shit. Now, Alexei will be grieving, and Kent wants to call him. But after what he did, he wouldn’t be surprised if Alexei gave him the cold shoulder in return.

He almost doesn’t reach out. But he knows he’ll be angrier with himself for not trying, than getting cut off permanently and knowing he earned it.

At 10pm on a Saturday, Kent gets up the nerve to dial. Alexei doesn’t take the call. Kent’s heart sinks into his socks and he curls up around Kit on the bed.

Ten minutes later, his phone buzzes with a text.

skype?

“I’m sorry,” Kent says as soon as the audio call connects. It’s the exact same thing as an actual phone call, but there’s symbolism at work here that doesn’t escape him for a second. “You tried to talk to me. I should have answered.”

“Apology accepted. Is okay.” Alexei sounds tired, raw. Like he’s been taking out his frustrations on himself at the gym, but instead of earning some peace, he’s just hollowed himself out. Kent knows the feeling.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” Kent says. He’s still wrapped around Kit, one hand petting her and the other cradling the phone. If he closes his eyes, it feels like Alexei is in the room with him. “I’ll probably always be like this.”

“Could be worse. Could never call.”

Kent swallows. “Guess that’s true.”

“I know is true.”

Alexei sounds so confident that it drags a faint smile out of Kent. But it fades as he murmurs, “And, I’m sorry. For...” He doesn’t have to say it for Alexei to know what he means.

There’s a small silence, and then Alexei whispers, “Me, too. Want so much. Think we get, this year.”

“Yeah.”

They both fall silent. Neither hangs up. It’s getting late, and Kent knows he should sleep. He’s already dressed for bed. But he doesn’t want to hang up, not yet. “Do you want to... I don’t know. Talk about it?” The words feel trite as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“No. Not about... Don’t want talk about it. But maybe just... we talk?” He sounds hesitant. Kent has never known him to be hesitant.

“That sounds good to me,” Kent says. But then he can’t think of something to say.

Alexei chuckles. “I don’t know what talk about.”

“You could just go to sleep,” Kent says. “You talk in your sleep, you’ll say something eventually.”

“Yes, ‘weird shit,’ you tell me.” There’s still exhaustion coming through, but warmth is creeping into Alexei’s tone. “Why you want hear if it’s weird?”

“‘Cause it’s also fucking hilarious. I told you about Santa, right?”

“Asshole still owe me money.”

Kent guffaws, startling Kit. “Well, Christmas is over, so you’ll have to head up to the North Pole if you want him to pay up.”

Alexei snorts. “You say I’m say weird shit.”

“You do. You know that first night we hooked up, in Vegas, you called me a big rat?”

“I call you big rat even when not sleeping, that’s not weird shit.”

“You monologue, sometimes,” Kent insists. “In Russian. Other times you’ll have halfway normal conversations with me, which isn’t even weird, it’s creepy. And you keep asking me about turtles. Why the fuck do you care so much about turtles?”

Alexei isn’t even listening anymore, he’s laughing. It makes Kent grin, still alone on his bed in the dark except for his cat, but with Alexei’s voice filling the room it doesn’t feel so awful.

That doesn’t change how tired he is, though. A yawn escapes him.

“Kent?”

“‘M here. I can keep talking. I just might fall asleep in the middle.”

“Okay.” Alexei is smiling too, Kent can hear it. “Maybe it’s same for me, too. But I like this. I like be with you when I’m go to sleep.”

Kent’s chest feels a little tight. He reaches down to tug the bedsheets over himself, and tugs the phone closer. “Yeah. Me, too.”

[watermonkey0]

4th Point of Contact - Mission Report #7

Author: WaterMonkey0

Pairing: Do Kyungsoo / Harper Hasagawa (OC)

Current Chapter Rating: PG

Genre: Canon

Mission Reports: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7

I learned a lot more over the next few weeks about Kpop than I ever thought I would in my lifetime. Entertainment companies in Korea were not like the record labels back home. These agencies controlled every aspect of their brand, including: who they chose to train, what image they would portray, when they would begin their career, what type of music they would produce, everything.

Idols start their journeys off as ‘trainees’, having signed a contract with their company, but not ready to ‘debut’, meaning: start performing and stuff. They work daily with the choreographers, vocal coaches, linguists, and managers employed by their company until it’s decided that they are prepared. These baby idols live where I live, in the trainee dorm, either thriving or not in this highly competitive world. And when I say highly competitive, I mean highly competitive. Hell week in boot camp was bad, but at least I didn’t have to sing in perfect pitch while someone bounced a basketball on my stomach.

Tala also taught me that entertainment agencies trade trainees like Pokémon cards, and that’s how she ended up at SM.

~~~

Then of course, there were the boys. EXO came down to the lot nearly everyday, and Bacon made it a point to give me a high five. He always made the effort to speak to me, whether we were passing in the hall, the elevator, or when they were coming to pick up a van. It was sweet, even though I knew ‘hello’ was probably the extent of his english. And here I was, having downloaded three language apps, forced Tala to implement a Korean word of the day, and nearly drowned myself in Kpop...and the only word I knew was ‘yeoboseyo’. We were two peas in a pod, Bacon and I.

June came and went in a whirl of glitter, parking passes, and being constantly yelled at in Korean. By July 1st, I was ready to pull my hair out, but the look of smug victory I imagined on Chief Soo’s face kept me motivated. He wasn’t going to win, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to lose. I counted our interactions as battles in a thirteen year long war: the spark set off in his office where I took the lead, but he pushed back swiftly with carpool duty. So far, we were 1-1 and stalled, until July 4th when I couldn’t contain my desire for tacos any longer.

Ladies and Gentlemen, did you know that the largest military base outside of the United States is located 60 miles south of Seoul? Camp Humphreys is an army base, sprawling 1,200 acres, and only has plans to grow in the future. Men I served with in Japan would boast about the accommodations, how nice they were, how new. I would swiftly drop kick them over hacksaw ridge, but that’s beside the point. On this Independence Day, when I’d sold my soul to a Korean ‘Agma’ and all I wanted was a little taste of home, I sucked it up.

I didn't want to go to Humphreys, but I knew very little about the installations in the area and frankly...no one would look at me twice on a base that size. So I caught a bus south from Seoul, and dozed against the window. I wasn't the only one on the bus going to the camp so it was easy to go unnoticed in a line on new recruits. Thankfully, no one bothered to ask where my luggage was for someone fresh from america, and they glossed right over my rank. The unintentional disrespect pricked at the back of my neck, but I said nothing. I outranked everyone here, or at least...I used to. Your status follows you even into retirement, but what would be the benefit of making a spectacle of myself here? I'd announce, be saluted, go about my day, and then someone would inevitably ask where I'd been, why I didn't reelist like I said I would, why the legendary 'Baroness' was groveling for scraps in Korea, and those were questions I was nowhere near able to answer without resorting to violence first. So I stayed quiet, and allowed the guardsmen to lead the group of privates in. The commissary was brand new, which was nice, and it came fully equipped with the military comfort basics: Burger King, Popeyes, Starbucks, and Pizza Hut. Not to mention the fancy schmancy BX, where Samsung was doing well for business. I swear they sold bigger TVs here than back home. But the auxiliaries were hosting a special cook out for the holiday, and that's what I came for. I doubt anyone got off work, but they got hot dogs, so where was the issue? Thankfully, as I slipped into the serving line, I was correct about being anonymous. The biggest base in the world was used to constantly new faces, and the ladies who ladled my plate full of potato salad and baked beans smiled at me warmly. 'Thank you for your service' they said, and my stomach twisted into a knot. I claimed a small table with only one chair so no one friendly could try and join me, and chowed down to my heart's content. It's true that fast food can kill you, but I don't think anything could give you a sweeter death. I probably looked feral, shoveling the food into my face, but when you live off of ramen for a month, you get a manners pass. I couldn't order in Korean, so how was I supposed to go to a restaurant? It wasn't like anyone was itching to take me out to eat. Moody Kyungsoo barely looked at me, even when Bacon dragged them over, Chief Soo was busy trying to fire me, and CEO Kim wasn't exactly the 'take-you-out-for-Korean-BBQ' type of man. I supposed I could have asked Tala, but I bothered her enough as it was. I was just starting to feel comfortable again when my phone rang. With a groan, I licked hot sauce off my fingers and answered without looking. “Ms. Hasagawa.” The falsely chipper voice of CEO Kim made me shudder. “Yes, sir?” I replied, not even trying to pretend I knew how to say that in Korean. “After looking at the numbers, I would like to congratulate you on your success in our Vehicle Organization Unit.” “You mean the parking lot?” I snorted. “You have turned it into one of our most productive areas.” “Well look at me…” It was like, no matter what I meant to say, sarcasm just fell out of my mouth. “Your performance has been noted by your supervisor as well.” He added, and I paused at that. “You mean Chief Soo?” “Yes.” “I highly doubt he has anything nice to say on my behalf.” I grumbled, annoyed that I’d gone a solid fifteen minutes without thinking about my terrible boss only for him to be brought back up again. “Luckily I have him right here.” There was the district sound of the phone being switched to speaker, and I could feel the uncomfortable silence between an employee who didn’t want to say something and a boss who was making him. “Hasagawa.” He pretty much barked, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear for a second. “What?” I grunted, eyeing my burger that was getting colder by the minute. “Tell her about the trip, Laon.” I heard CEO Kim in the background dictating. “As you know, SM encouraged unity and happiness in its employees, and strives to make the workplace a desirable and productive place to work.” “Ahuh?” I slurred. “And every year, SM encourages its employees to attend their yearly team building retreat, this year held on Jeju island.” “Ahuh?” “And this year, your presence is requested.” His words were clipped short. “Ahuh…” “What else do you have to tell her, Laon?” CEO Kim asked, and I knew exactly what kind of face he was making behind Chief Soo’s back. “And…you’re being promoted.” I heard the sound of a whiny child in his voice, and I could have laughed. “Ahuh.” I said instead. “Will you stop your idiotic gawking and speak!” Chief Soo snapped. “Laon…” CEO Kim warned pleasantly. I could get used to having him around if he was able to keep Chief Soo on a leash like this. After the sound of an angry throat being cleared, Chief Soo gave me my second victory. “Harper Hasagawa, you are now assigned to the security detail of EXO. You will attend the retreat with them, and participate with the other officers.” “What happened to me being a stubborn, stupid American?” I chided with a grin. There was another pause, and I could tell he was working up to it, the words nauseating him. But CEO Kim was staring, so there was no way he couldn’t.

“I misspoke. I apologize.”

~

The SMTown retreat was all anyone was talking about once I made it back to Seoul. Tala nearly tackled me in the hallway outside my room. "Did you hear?!" She exclaimed as I pushed my door open. "Hear what?" I pretended, dropping my keys on the bed. She quickly slipped off her shoes while I didn't bother. That was something I was never going to get used to. It was that way in Japan as well, and Kojima never passed up an opportunity to remind me how uncivilized I was. "The retreat!" she squealed and jumped on my bed before I could sit down. She was moving too fast for my stuffed self, so I gave up and opted for the desk chair. "We're all going on the retreat!" "So?" I asked, picking up the closest book to me and staring at the page. It was a Korean-English dictionary, somewhere in the 'S'. When I didn't feed into her excitement, Tala started to pout, and crossed her arms with a huff. "You're going too." She said snobbishly. "Your name was on list with rest of security." "Probably need someone to park the cars." I snickered, and then actually did grin at myself. "Oh come on!" She cried, throwing her hands in the air. "This what you wanted! You get to work with EXO!" She grabbed for the book, but I pulled it from her reach. It was unavoidable now, and she knew she had my attention. "What are you going to do about Chief Soo?"  I would call it a moment of weakness, when I told Tala nearly everything about myself , but you can't really call it a moment when you do it over and over again. She was truly my only companion in the whole country, and I overused the ear she offered. So I mumbled and grumbled, tossing the prop book aside. What was I going to do about Chief Soo? I was up by one, but knowing him, this retreat that was not his idea was going to be the perfect place for him to get back on top. "What even is this trip?" I asked, and Tala smirked, knowing she'd hooked me. She liked being my source of information. "It's a workshop for employees. Trainees work on debut, idols work on comebacks, and security..." She wagged her eyebrows at me, "work on teamwork." "You're kidding me." I deadpanned, not interested in the slightest. "No! There's a competition every year to see who's the best!" Her face lit up suddenly, and she jumped off the bed and grabbed my arm. "You need to win it! Then Chief Soo can't touch you!" The taste of victory brought with it a little melancholy. If I won this competition, my war with Chief Soo would be all but over. He couldn't fire me if I had the backing of the company. Then again...how were the rest of the guards going to feel if I swooped in and destroyed them? Been there, done that. I shook Tala off my arm, but nodded to her. "When do we leave?" The company hadn't given me a whole lot of notice. It was tuesday and we were set to leave next monday. I had less than a week to get back into the kind of shape that would win me the contest. And then there was the fact that I didn't know what kind of contest it was. If it was a kimchi eating contest, I was out of luck. And they didn't use firearms in this country, so I was up a creek there too. My hand to hand was decent, but I feel like the guards at LAX were more surprised than outmanned. Not to sell myself short or anything. This was the land of Taekwondo, after all. Is that racist? I turned the parking lot into a workout center by doing pull ups on the doorframe of the shack, chair dips on the bumper of the vans, and making the managers park in a relay that I could run when no one was looking. It felt good stretching my legs again, oddly satisfying even. The day after the rescue, I felt every single punch and kick in my bones; I was sore for days. But exercising now, I could get back to that dreaded six minute mile Kojima had teased me about. The trainee dorms were buzzing come monday. Boys and girls last minute packing, darting from room to room, borrowing clothes, making promises to bunk together. It felt like I was going off to summer camp with a gaggle of my closest strangers. Over the last month, and no doubt due to Tala's nagging, the rest of the kids had warmed up to me. To my surprise, only one of them had been lying about being able to speak English. The rest truly struggled with the language, and I won them over by helping them with their studies. SM was outdoing itself this year, or so I was told. In addition to the groups like NCT, EXO, SNSD, Red Velvet, and more, CEO Kim also wanted to take actors, models, MCs, and others from his sub-labels SM C&C and Mystic Entertainment. The company would be taking almost 900 employees to this resort on Jeju Island, and I was already feeling cramped as we staged to leave for the airport. The flight to the island was a whopping hour and fifteen minutes, and from there, they would cart us to the resort by bus, another thirty minutes. A small part of my hoped that Tala would just adopt me without asking, and I wouldn't have to awkwardly follow along behind the cliques of girls and glitter... but it didn't happen. She disappeared with some of the girls from a group called Red Velvet and I was left with my stupid ruck, standing by the bus, hoping someone would come save me. 

~

The resort was stunning. Halfway between the beach and nothing, uniquely modern houses sat clustered around long day pools. Each house had many rooms, and their own porches that sported a hot tub for each. A volleyball court could be seen a hundred yards away where the water lapped at the sand, bordered by coconut trees and palm branches. It was the epitome of island life. At the far end of the resort, a large recreational building had been prepped to house a thousand dancing teenagers. "Harper came!" Baekhyun grinned from ear to ear as EXO unloaded from their bus. "Since when are you calling girls by their first names?" Junmyeon chided from behind him. "Since she told me to! I'm gonna go say hi!" And before anyone could stop him, the leader of the beagle line was off and all smiles. Kyungsoo watched forlornly as Harper's face, which had been a mask of boredom, blossomed into relief when Baek romped up to her. Kyungsoo had to admit that his brother had that effect on people, but he thought it would be really great if Baek didn't use it on her. A month had gone by, and she was still here. All the bets that had been made in regard to her stay were past paid. No one put money on the fact that she would stay longer than a month, let alone a week as a glorified valet. Junmyeon, not in so many words, had told everyone else about the war Chief Soo declared on her, and Kyungsoo couldn't fathom the depths of her hardheadedness if the only reason she was staying was to win. So he did his best to ignore her, and tried not to be associated with her. See, at SM there were no secrets. Everyone knew everything. But it was how each person used the information that differed. People knew she and Kyungsoo has history, but up until now, no one had decided to use that against him. It was just how the game was played here. He hated it, but there was nothing he could do but play.

Baekhyun grabbed Harper's hand and pulled her over to EXO. "Guys! Harper is going to eat lunch with us!" He declared, and Kyungsoo wondered how they communicated enough for him to even ask. She seemed to concentrate on the words that were being tossed around as the rest of the boys commented on one thing or another about the resort. It was a test really, to see how much she'd learned. After a moment, all eyes went to her and she visibly gulped. As smug as he wanted to be in that moment, when her eyes met his, he felt like he should throw her a bone. "B-Beautiful." She stumbled over the pronunciation, but the outcome was clear: she passed. At least she knew what they were talking about. Suho seemed much more proud than he should of as he patted her on the shoulder and gestured towards the rec building. A sign of good faith that he wouldn't lead her straight into the ocean. "How long are you gonna act like this?" Kyungsoo turned to Jongin, who was looking at him intently. The other guys started towards the cafeteria with Harper safely at their center. "Act like what?" Kyungsoo said defensively, hanging back from the group. "Like she's the worst thing in the world." Jongin watched as the other members took turns saying something to Harper and giggling when she barely understood. "I'm not." Kyungsoo snapped and readjusted his bag on his shoulder, unhappily defensive. "You refuse to breathe the same air as her most of the time." Jongin pointed out, and started behind the boys. Kyungsoo bit his lip, hating that his position on the matter was pitting him against his brothers. He hurried to Jongin's side and hissed into his ear, "She reckless." Hoping maybe he would sympathize. "And?" Jongin asked instead, and Kyungsoo sighed. He really was alone with the voice of reason. "She should have left when she had the chance." He grunted. But Jongin had the false sense of optimism that most maknae had. "You know...I kind of admire her courage." He commented, not leaving Kyungsoo for his objections. "It's not courage, it's stupidity." D.O. murmured, but Jongin grinned at him. "I don't know...standing up for what you believe in, keeping your word, staying reliable...those seem like pretty respectable traits, don't you think?" Kyungsoo grabbed Jongin's wrist and stopped him. With a little more space between them and those who could overhead, Kyungsoo asked, "What are you getting at?" Jongin wasn't usually one for confrontation, but from the outside, Kyungsoo knew he was being the aggressive one. "I'm just saying," He shrugged, letting Kyungsoo keep his hand, "she's not going anywhere. The least you could do is make peace." Kyungsoo let him go, and Jongin patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Besides hyung, Baekhyun likes her." And with that, he joined the group as they entered the rec center. ~ CEO Kim proudly stood before his empire, the massive crowd of celebrities he'd assembled that all carried his name. They were the biggest company in Korea, the one everyone wanted to be a part of, and he was the head of it all. The cafeteria was as big as a basketball court, with round tables that could seat whole groups (maybe not NCT). Everyone watched as he stood at the head of the room and addressed them. He welcomed them to the SMTown Retreat, and gave them all the basic information they would need. The managers were handling most everything. In fact, CEO Kim wasn't even staying. He'd flown in solely to give this speech, and to make sure his head of security had fallen in line. It may have been an oversight on his part, although he would never admit it, that he didn't realize sooner Harper hadn't been put into the correct rotation. But he wasn't there to cater to the whims of one american, even if he put her there especially. Besides, the situation had been rectified, and he had no doubt that she would be able to withstand whatever backlash Laon had planned for her.

~

Kyungsoo watched Baekhyun lead Harper through the line, pointing out what things were, talking like a motorboat in Korean, there was no way she could keep up. Deep down, he knew Jongin was right, that he should suck it up and keep the peace. She'd saved their lives after all. He shouldn't forget that. But it wasn't enough to make him get up and go translate for them. Baek could make a fool of himself if he wanted. It wasn't too much for Harper to slap him upside the head like she had in LA. When Baek finally lead her back to their table, Kyungsoo caught her shooting glances in his direction, like she was waiting for him to object to her sitting with them. If he was anything, he was competitive, and maybe that would be the best way they could survive this. So when she looked to him, he pulled the chair out for her to sit. Daring her to sit. Everyone else might have missed it, but a small smirk told him she saw his play, and she sat down. No one said anything for a moment. That's not true, Baekhyun never stopped talking, but they were all skilled at tuning him out. Harper kept her eyes locked on Kyungsoo's, playing chicken to see who would look away first. "Ooooh Harper, I know he's pretty but you really shouldn't stare!" Baekhyun cried, and she cracked a smile. Kyungsoo looked away, and she won. Both the staring contest, and his compromise. They'd find a way to live with each other. It wasn't like they had much choice. The rest of the boys joined in the teasing, and pretty soon, it was comfortable. They ate their lunch and talked about the sessions they had planned for the afternoon. There was no time to stop and sight see. It was straight to the grind day one. They could see the beach later.

[justeverythingprettymuch]

High School AUs (based on real experiences I’ve had) pt. 2

So, here’s another fifty weird prompts, since people seemed to like the first ones...

(Part 1)

51. You're twice my size and have huge muscles, but you got told off by our teacher for going on your phone, so she took your phone and placed you next to me. I was super nervous, but then you began whispering to me about how the only reason you kept using your phone was because you work at an old age home, and one of the nurses there is sending you updates on the residents. I think I just melted.

52. My friends and I have been calling you "Muscle Man Mark" for the good part of the last two years, but we don't actually know your name or anything about you. All we know is your biceps are the size of your head. One day, you overhear us talking about you and buRST OUT LAUGHING WHEN YOU FIND OUT YOUR NICKNAME.

53. You and your best friend are Russian exchange students and you're in my art class. You are at least a head taller than me and look like you could crush my skull with one hand, but your best friend is the scrawniest motherfucker I've ever seen. You glare at everyone, while he smiles like sunshine. I kind of ship you together... but I'm pretty sure you overheard me say that to my friend, because you both keep looking at me now.

54. Some freshmen stole my group's usual spot and they woN'T LEAVE. You see me getting increasingly irritated because this has been our spot for the last three and a hALF YEARS AND I WILL BE DAMNED IF I LET THEM TAKE IT NOW. You stroll over and tell the freshmen to leave without even explaining why, and they just get up and walk away. Turns out you're their class' assigned prefect, so you pretty much own them AND I AM AWED BY YOUR POWER.

55. My friend and I went to a department store after school. We were apparently more rowdy than I thought because the store manager is coming up to us, looking really angry, but he's wearing a purple shirt and I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when I'm nervous... so I say "Doctor Banner this is not the place to Hulk out" and he fucking loses it.

56. Everyone in our friend group knows that we're no longer welcome at the comic book store down the road. There are some crazy theories as to why, but in reality it's because you bought a sword from there and forced me to ducktape it to your arm, then proceeded to try picking a fight with everyone in the store.

57. We were walking through a park in the middle of the night and saw a really weird light in the distance, and our conspiracy-enthused asses immediately assumed it was something crashing to Earth. You turn to me and say; "If this is it, I need you to know... (insert whatever you want)." ... Turns out it was just a weirdly shaped paper lantern.

58. You're my best friend and you've just realized you aren't as straight as you previously thought, but instead of coming out to me in some quiet sort of nervous way, you just turn up at my house one day and throw open the door. Without even checking who was home you yell out; "I'm bisexual, bitches!"

59. We've been friends for years, but we've never been that close. One day you get drunk before school and a teacher noticed, so you get suspended for the rest of the week, and for some strange reason you only told me about it??

60. We were on a school trip and you asked if anyone had a pair of scissors, but no one did. Instead, my best friend pulled out a craft knife and I pulled out a pocket knife with a four-inch blade. You're a little bit concerned.

61. We've been out all night walking around and we've just wandered on to our school's grounds. You insist on climbing up onto the roof - and no, of course we can't just use the stairs, we have to climb a tree and scale the second-storey wall because you're fucking hardcore like that - just so that we can watch the sunrise.

62. You're this really scary-yet-super-smart kid that never really talks to anyone other than the teachers, but one day it's really, really cold and you turn up in a Christmas sweater, and I just... can't compute?

63. You were sitting next to me at lunch while I was searching through my bag for my house keys. I absentmindedly unpacked all the little trinkets I've collected over the past few weeks and just haven't taken out, while you become increasingly curious and simultaneously afraid. I've just taken out 3 lighters, a pocket knife, lip balm, a bus card, a first-aid kit, a small flashlight, a box of matches, like 6 pens, and what looks like it might be a wooden cube covered in blood.

64. We sit next to each other in our music class. I don't know a damn thing about music, while you're pretty much the top student. You're literally in the orchestra and three different bands, all at the same time. I'm barely scraping by in the class, so you take pity on me and teach me a few things.

65. Since sophomore year, you've always been followed around by the younger kids at lunchtime. No one has any idea why, but it always happens. Every semester of every year, you pick one of the students to pretty much become your protege. By senior year, the challenge of becoming your protege has pretty much become our school's Hunger Games and it's absolutely hilarious.

66. Most of our friend group is staying the night at your house, so we've been drinking some beer and playing random games. You and your best friend then decide to put on all your goalie gear and wrestle in the garage, while the rest of us sit on the pool table and question why we're friends with either of you in the first place.

67. I just moved out of my parent's house and into an apartment. You and your best friend are my new roommates, but I only meet you after four days of living there. You call a house meeting as soon as you walk through the door, but when we find you in the living room you've got branches in your hair, mud on your clothes, and you're only wearing one shoe.

68. I had a huge fight with my parents, so I packed some things into a bag and walked out the door. Three hours later, I'm wandering aimlessly through a park and decide to call you for advice, since you moved out of your parents' house for similar reasons. You pick me up twenty minutes later and offer to let me take your couch for as long as I need.

69. I was sitting in the library before school when you came past me and hit me on the head with a pile of paper. When I turn to look at you, you're showing off a twelve-page essay and say; "'Can't do it the night before,' my ass."

70. You had six shots of espresso one after the other right before lunch, then came to sit with our group. You spend the entire hour asking us weird philosophical questions, until eventually you just start asking us what would happen if we laminated certain things. Now we're going around the school asking every technology teacher we find if they have a laminator so that we can test some of these theories. It's for science!

71. You took one of the freshmen under your wing this year, so you go to check up on him at least once a week and insist on buying him food. You have dubbed him your son and will literally tell anyone willing to listen about how great your 'sweet summer child' is.

72. We sit together in class, but we never hang out outside of that class. One day, my friend buys four tickets to a movie premiere for us and a couple of our friends, but one of the people who were meant to go had to cancel, so I ask you if you want to go 'cause I know you've been looking forward to seeing the movie too.

73. We went to go ask a teacher a question, but he gets side-tracked because I'm wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt and he wants to talk about the band. You keep giving me exasperated looks and whispering; "Stay focused, we're on a mission."

74. I was walking down one of the hallways, when you suddenly pulled me into an empty storage room. Before I can even ask what is going on, you shove $70 in my hand, and then push me back out. Why in the hell are you just giving me money???

75. We were on a school field trip, but you were only there when they were taking the roll (at the beginning and end of the trip), so the next day you ask me to give you a quick summary of everything we saw and learnt for when the teacher inevitably asks us what happened.

76. You came in to a meeting for a club we're both in carrying three bags stacked up with apple crumble in little foil trays. And everyone is just like ???? Why?? Turns out no one in your hospitality class likes apple crumble, so you got 30 trays of it for free.

77. We both take the same bus all the way to the exchange every day, but you usually just get on another bus, while I leave the exchange 'cause I live nearby. One day you have to go to a store that's in the same area, so you ask me what street you have to go down to get there and I'm like "How would I know?" and that's how you find out I don't even know the name of the street I LIVE on, I just walk there through muscle memory alone.

78. I was at the grocery store with my mother. I saw you staring at me, so I smiled and said 'hi' as I passed you, but then you tried to say something back, while still walking, and ended up walking straight into a display. I feel really bad for laughing, but that's honestly the funniest thing I've seen all day.

79. You and your girlfriend just broke up, so you come over to my house to distract yourself. We end up watching all the Godfather movies, drinking a 24 box of beer and most of a bottle of vodka. By morning, we are both somehow passably fluent in Italian, though we have no idea how that happened.

80. You stay the night at my house and sleep on my bedroom floor, but you get woken up at three in the morning by my cat who is not happy about you taking up his pile of blankets.

81. We have a movie night/sleepover with our group of friends. We are each other's wing-people with our respective crushes, but neither of us sleep that well and we seem to be the only people who can put up with each other for extended periods of time, so now it's about four in the morning and we're trying not to wake everyone else up while we're giggling about random inside jokes we have.

82. I came for a sleepover at your house, but you have two siblings who are much younger than you, and for some unknown reason your 8-year-old brother is up at six in the morning playing with fuCKING BEYBLADES ON WOODEN FLOOR BOARDS AND IF I HEAR THAT GODDAMN THING GO OFF ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR TO GOD.

83. Your best friend, my best friend, and the two of us are passing a relatively small bottle of 'water' (it's vodka, guys) between us, while we walk with the rest of our group through a super posh neighbourhood in the wee hours of the morning. Given that one of our friends lives in the neighbourhood, we've been ordered to be on our best behaviour and not bring any alcohol to this party. Unfortunately, turns out you are the lightest of all the lightweights and now we're trying our best to hide the fact that you're drunk from the rest of our friends.

84. We're walking around our neighbourhood, just trying to explore a little, but we're also drunk and there's this buff as all-hell guy taking his very small dogs for a walk. The first time we pass the guy, we just coo and tell him he has cute dogs, before continuing on our way, but then we pass him again on our way back around the block. The guy lets us pet his dogs, so we end up just sitting on the side of the road petting these tiny dogs while this big-ass guy just laughs at our weird drunk asses.

85. We met at a party a while ago and exchanged numbers, but we've never really spoken much since. One day, you text me out of the blue asking if I want to come to a family BBQ on Saturday. Apparently your parents are super conservative and literally don't approve of anyone that isn't prim and proper. You want to scare them into leaving you alone when it comes to who you date, and I'm the only person you know that a) wears Iron Maiden and Megadeath t-shirts, b) is very openly queer, c) does not give a single fuck about what others think of me, and d) has a reputation as someone who likes to piss off overbearing parents. So... you think I'll be perfect for the job.

86. We both live really far out of town, so we usually get dropped off really early and have to bus for hours to get home. Because of this, we usually end up spending like and extra 3-4 hours a day together, and so we've sort of gotten super close and know way more about each other than anyone else does. Including your strange obsession with making the perfect whiskey.

87. We've been on-and-off frenemies since freshman year, but we've been hanging out a lot lately. Like, almost the entire school day and then we meet up outside of school to watch movies, go to parties or have sleepovers. In the past week or so, this guy in one of my classes has been trying to hit on me and hang out with me whenever I've got a spare moment, but he keeps getting shut down because you're always with me. Now, practically everyone we know is convinced we're dating.

88. You and your best friend sometimes spend your lunchtimes with my group of friends, and you are both super intimidating, but super cute underneath. Most people don't realize this until they see the two of you together because that's almost the only time you guys let it show. Like that time you hand-fed each other pizza, or that time you were trying to sing together but you kept getting distracted and laughing. I ship it SO HAAARD.

89. We were in class and our teacher knew that none of us would be doing any work today, so she gave us a short quiz to do and then started just chatting with us. She is a really adorable and sweet old lady who is always friendly and supportive of us all, though she thinks partying and smoking and stuff like that is horrible. The conversation somehow got onto this fact, and you called me out as being someone who parties relatively often, so I called you out by saying; "Well, you smoke all day every day, so let's focus on that." And our teacher thought I meant you smoke marijuana, and that's how we ended up finding out that this adorable tiny lady doesn't mind people smoking weed as long as they’re responsible about it. AND she once accidentally threw out $300 worth of her son's weed because she didn't realize what it was.

90. One lunchtime you brought up some kind of fact about the Soviet Union, and it reminded me of the story of Lyudmila Pavlichenko... and that's how we found out we were both obscure history buffs and we ended up spending four hours talking about all the random stuff we knew.

91. You're an art student and your folio is due in a few hours. You haven't slept in two and a half days and you've had so many energy drinks that you can hardly even see straight, but you're still really determined to get things done. I come to the art studio at lunch time to keep you company, but I end up having to stop you from drinking dirty water and walking into a wall, since apparently your brain isn't doing the job for you.

92. We're frenemies, so we don't always get along, but we live nearby each other and are usually free at the same times because we have our free period at the same time and often work the same hours. Because of this, we are often the only members of our group of friends that can meet up regularly. One day, I owed you some food so I bought you a 6 for $5 pack of muffins ('cause I'm cheap and don't like you) and came over to your house to watch the Breakfast Club. Your sister and her friend are also there, and they think they're being quiet, but I can hear them talking about how they think we're dating.

93. We went to the beach to hang out with a bunch of people we were friends with, but who were not in our immediate group of friends. Because of this, we weren't as comfortable around the other people there, so we mostly stuck to each other for the night. Anyway, around 9PM a large group of college students sort of stumbled in to where we were all sitting around a fire, and asked if they could join us. By the end of the night, all of the college students are convinced we're dating, won't believe us when we say we're each other's wing-people, and have dubbed us 'Star-crossed Lovers'.

94. You're house sitting at your neighbour's 50 acre farm and invite me over for a few days because the farm has goats on it and you know I love them to death. By the time I have to leave I'm genuinely considering just stealing one, while you think my love for goats is the cutest thing you've ever heard.

95. We went to the beach for a party, but at one point I managed to somehow hurt my toes. I don't remember how it happened, only that you were there and I ignored it at the time. In the morning my toes are kinda blue and I can't bend them, and we later discover that I somehow managed to break two of my toes. You feel really bad since the whole night had been your idea, and you had been involved in how I got hurt, though you won't tell me what happened.

96. You broke your nose twice within a couple weeks, so you have to get surgery to fix it since it's so bad that you can't breathe properly anymore. After the surgery, you aren't allowed to really do much of anything for a while, so I come over with some of our friends to keep you company and make sure you're okay.

97. It's waaaaay too hot outside, but we're supposed to hang out so you come over with ice cream. You find me lying down on my kitchen floor, feeding my cats ice chips.

98. We have our birthday on the same day, so we decide to throw our party together. We invite all of our friends, mutual and otherwise, to your house for the day. By the end of the night, there's been at least three fist-fights, one guy climbed on your garage's roof in nothing but his underwear, and we're both questioning why we ever thought this was a good idea.

99. You're my ride home from a friend's house, but you have to stop at your house to grab something before we go. Once we get there, you make me hot chocolate and leave me alone with your dog, while you go get ready. When you come back, your dog is sitting on my lap - despite being huge as hell - and refuses to move.

100. We jokingly proposed to each other because we're the only people we know who want to have a pagan handfasting ceremony instead of a 'normal' wedding, and one day your mum came up to us while we were at your house and asked you, "Well, have you asked her yet?" And when you asked what she meant she sarcastically said; "To marry you, obviously." Caught off guard, you immediately blurted out; "How did you know about that?" ... turns out your mum actually wanted to know if you'd asked me to come camping with the family yet, but she was suddenly much more interested in "WHat do you meAN YOU PROPOSED?" which led to an awkward hour of us having to explain that you hadn't actually proposed, it was a joke. We swear.

Hope you like my rollercoaster life. Like before, if you happen to use these for a story, I would love it if you could tag me or send me a link or something. I’d love to read them!

[crimsonslytherin]

I’ll Be Your Reason - Chapter 8

(First) - (Previous)  

Words: 5328

A/N: Please note I use scenes/parts from the book to make chapters longer and because I wish certain parts had been in the movies. This is also long to make up for the previous chapter being so short.

Harry was flipping through the album Hagrid had given him the year before, in his room; his actual room, with an actual bed, a window and everything. It was Dudley’s old ‘Toy Room’. Hedwig, in her cage, screeched and rattled the cage a bit.

“I can’t let you out, Hedwig. I’m not allowed to use magic outside of school,” he said with a frown at the padlock his uncle had put on her cage. “Besides, if Uncle Vernon-“

“Harry Potter!” his uncle shouted from downstairs.

“Now you’ve done it,” Harry said to the owl. He closed the album before heading downstairs. He opened the door to the kitchen where his Aunt was finishing up a cake.

“He’s in there,” she said when she saw him. “Vernon?” Harry went into the living room where his uncle was fixing Dudley’s tie.

“I’m warning you, if you can’t control that bloody bird it’ll have to go.”

“But she’s bored! If I could only let out for an hour or two,” Harry said. Vernon laughed.

“So you could send secret messages to you freaky little friends? No, sir.”

“But I haven’t had any messages from any of my friends. Not one... all summer.” He thought at least Fiona would have sent her father’s owl with a birthday card or something of the like but he hadn’t seen an owl besides Hedwig since he’d left school.

“Who’d want to be friends with you?” Dudley asked.

“Fiona’s my friend,” Harry said giving the boy a glare.

“Yeah and where’s she?” Dudley asked.

“Her family’s on vacation...” Harry said with a frown. Dudley scoffed and bumped his shoulder as he passed by.

“Probably to get away from you,” Dudley muttered.

“I should think you’d be a little more grateful,” his uncle said. “We’ve raised you since you were a baby, given you the food off our table, even let you have Dudley’s second bedroom, purely out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“Not now, Bopkins. For when the Masons arrive,” Aunt Petunia said when Dudley went to take something off the cake.

“Which should be any minute! Ahem...Now let’s go over our schedule once again, shall we? Petunia when the Masons arrive you will be...?”

“...in the lounge, waiting to welcome them graciously into our home.”

“Good! And- and Dudley, you will be...?”

“I’ll be waiting to open the door!”

“Excellent!” The three stood together and faced Harry. “...And you...?”

“I’ll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending that I don’t exist.”

“Too right, you will. With any luck, this could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career. And you will not mess it up!”

…

Harry headed upstairs as the doorbell rang. He could hear Vernon greeting the couple as he headed to his room. Harry opened his door and stared in shock at the creature jumping on his bed.

“Ha- ha- ha! Ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha!” The creature stopped when he noticed Harry standing in the doorway. “Harry Potter! Such an honor it is!”

“Who are you?” Harry asked after closing his door.

“Dobby sir, Dobby the house elf.”

“Not to be to be rude or anything, but this isn’t a great time for me to have a house elf in my bedroom.”

“Oh, oh yes, sir! Dobby understands! It’s just that, Dobby has come to tell you- it is difficult, sir. Dobby wonders where to begin?”

“Why don’t you sit down?”

“S-sit down? S-sit- sit down?” Dobby seemed taken aback by the very thought. He stepped off the bed and started to cry. “Oh, oh, ho. Oh, ho, ho... Oh, ho, ho. Ohh, ho, hoo...”

“Dobby, shh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you, or anything.”

“Offend Dobby?” Dobby turned around. “Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but never has he been asked to sit down by a wizard… like an equal.”

“You can’t have met many decent wizards then.”

“No, I haven’t,” Dobby admitted with a smile that quickly faded. “That was an awful thing to say,” he said as he walked over to the dresser. He started banging his head against it. “Bad Dobby!”

“Stop, Dobby!”

“Bad Dobby!”

“Dobby, shh!”

“Baaad Dobby!”

“Dobby, please stop!” Harry pleaded.

“Bad Dobby. Bad Dobby!”

“Stop! Stop, Dobby. Please be quiet!” Dobby stopped, holding his head and wobbling a bit. “Are you all right?”

“Dobby had to punish himself, sir. Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir,” Dobby explained as he pushed Harry’s chair towards the bed. Harry sat down on the bed as Dobby climbed up to kneel on the chair.

“Your family?” Harry asked.

“The wizard family Dobby serves, sir. Dobby is bound to serve one family forever. If they ever knew Dobby was here...ooh... But Dobby had to come. Dobby has to protect Harry Potter. To warn him. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year! There is a plot, a plot to make most terrible things happen.”

“What terrible things? Who’s plotting them?”

“Ooo... er... can’t... say... argh...”

“Ok– I- understand. You can’t- say,” Harry said quickly. Dobby quickly looked around and stood on the desk before grabbing a lamp and hitting himself in the head with the bottom of it.

“Don’t make me talk, I— Errr...”

“Dobby! Dobby, put the lamp down.”

“Bad Dobby.”

“Give me the lamp!” Harry hissed as he tried to wrestle the lamp away from the elf. He heard Uncle Vernon coming up the stairs and looked to the door. “Dobby stop!” He managed to pull the lamp out of his hands and put it down. He grabbed Dobby’s shirt and brought him over to his wardrobe.

“Let me go!”

“Get in there, and keep quiet!” He closed the wardrobe door just as Uncle Vernon burst into the room.

“What the devil are you doing up here?”

“I- I was just—“ Harry pushed the door closed as Dobby slowly opened it.

“You just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke!”

“Sorry.” Harry pushed the door closed again.

“One more sound, and you’ll wish you’d never been born, boy! And fix that door!” Harry pushed it closed again.

“Yes, sir...” Uncle Vernon left and Harry opened the wardrobe. “See why I’ve got to go back? I don’t belong here. I belong in your world, at Hogwarts. It’s the only place I can be with my friends!”

“Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?” Dobby asked.

“Well, I expect they’ve... been- hang on- how do you know my friends haven’t been writing to me?”

“Harry Potter mustn’t be angry with Dobby. Heh- Dobby hoped, if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him,” he pulled out a stack of letters. “Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir.”

“Give me those, now.”

“No! Ahh! Ooh...” Dobby put them back into his rags before running out of the room. Harry chased after him. Dobby stopped downstairs when he saw the cake Aunt Petunia had made.

“Dobby, get back here!” Harry whisper-shouted. Dobby snapped his fingers and the cake started floating. “Dobby, please, no.”

“Harry Potter must say he’s not going back to school!”

“I can’t. Hogwarts is my home!”

“Then, Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter’s own good,” Dobby said before snapping his fingers again. Harry rushed out past him. He reached out for the cake, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley all noticing him and the cake.” Dobby snapped his fingers and it fell onto Mrs. Mason’s head.

“I’m so sorry! It’s my nephew- he’s very disturbed. Meeting strangers upsets him. That’s why I kept him upstairs!” Uncle Vernon apologized.

 ______________________

It was a few nights later, after Uncle Vernon had barred Harry’s windows and placed many locks on the outside of his bedroom door, that Harry woke to an odd sound. It sounded almost like a motor. He grabbed his glasses and stood at his window. He saw a flying car come at the window, its lights shining into the room. Harry backed up as the car turned and relaxed when he saw it was Ron, Fred and George.

“Hiya, Harry!” Ron said.

“Ron! Fred. George. What are you all doing here?”

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Harry looked to see Fiona in the back with George.

“Fiona? I thought you were on vacation with your parents,” Harry said.

“We were supposed to get back two months ago! Things kept going wrong. We’d miss our bus or lose things… it was a nightmare! I finally sent Ron an owl seeing as he responds to them. Then we learn from both our fathers that you’d received an official warning for underage magic in front of Muggles. You know better!” Harry’s eyes widened seeing that she was upset with him.

“F-Fiona I-! I didn’t-!”

“We can chitchat later,” Ron said. “We’re trying to rescue you.” Fred tossed Harry a rope which he tied to one of the bars.

“Stand back,” Fred told him, allowing Harry enough time to do just that before he drove straight up. With a crunch the bars were pulled clean out and dangled a few feet from the ground. Harry turned to his bedroom door for any sound of the Dursleys waking but there wasn’t a sound. Ron and George, in back, pulled the bars up quietly into the backseat.

“Get your stuff,” Ron told Harry as Fred backed the trunk up to the window.

“It’s all locked up. Everything, my wand, my books-”

“In your old room no doubt,” Fiona guessed.

“Leave it to us,” Fred said as he ‘parked’ the car and he and George climbed in through the window.

“Fiona?” George asked.

“Here,” she said as she reached out and handed him a hair pin.

“Thank you.” George started to get to work on the bedroom lock.

“A lot of wizards think it’s a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick,” Fred commented. “But we feel they’re skills worth learning even if they are a bit slow.” With a small click the door was unlocked.

“We’ll get your trunk, grab anything you need in hear and pass it out to them,” George whispered, nodding towards the car.

“Watch out for the bottom step, it creaks,” Harry warned them before they went into the dark hallway. Harry quietly ran around the room grabbing what he needed and passing them to Ron and Fiona. Once he was done he went to help the twins get his trunk. He heard his uncle cough once or twice as they pushed the trunk into the back of the car.

“Harry, Hedwig!” Fiona hissed as Harry began to climb out of his window. Not a second later the bird let out a loud screech followed by his uncle.

“THAT RUDDY OWL!” Harry bolted across the room to grab the cage before handing it out to Ron and George in the back seat. He clambered up onto his dresser to get out the window just as the unlocked door burst open. “Petunia, he’s escaping!” Uncle Vernon shouted. Harry quickly climbed through the window but Vernon grabbed his ankle.

“Ahh- ahh!”

“I’ve got you Harry!” Ron shouted as he and Fiona held onto him.

“Come here!” Vernon shouted.

“Let go of me!”

“Oh no, boy! You and that bloody pigeon aren’t going anywhere!”

“Get off!”

“Drive!” Ron shouted.

“Right,” Fred said before shifting gears.

“Right!” George shouted.

“No! No! No! No! Aaaah!” Vernon shouted as he was pulled through the window and fell onto the bushes below.

“Aaah!” Petunia and Dudley screamed as they ran to the window.

“Dad!” Dudley shouted. Harry grinned back at them before closing the door.

“By the way, Harry, Happy Birthday!” Ron exclaimed.

“This car’s not meant for five people and a bird,” George groaned as he shook his head.

“Let Hedwig out, she can fly behind us, she hasn’t been able to stretch her wings in ages,” Harry said looking back at him. George took out the hair pin again and set to work.

“Still leaves the cage,” he muttered.

“There was no way you were leaving me behind,” Fiona said.

“Might want to plug your ears,” Fred warned quietly. Harry looked confused but only for a moment.

“Harry Potter, do you know how many letters I’ve sent you this summer? And you didn’t reply to one!” Ron and George flinched, being on either side of the cross girl.

“I-It’s not my fault, Fiona, I swear,” Harry insisted. “I would’ve written back! You know that. You saw that Hedwig was locked up!”

“I know… it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt though,” she said as she looked down at her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I missed you,” he tried with a smile. Fiona looked at him and couldn’t help but smile back.

“I missed you too.” She moved forward to hug him the best she could and kiss his cheek.

“Could you wait until you’re out of the car?” Ron asked. “We’re still squished back here.” Fiona pulled away and sat back down. She looked at him.

“Are you implying something?” she asked. Ron’s eyes widened.

“No! No, of course not!” he said quickly. “It’s just… five people…small car.” He gave her a sheepish smile. Fiona turned to George who gave her a smile.

“Don’t look at me, luv,” he said.

“You could’ve sat in front,” she pointed out to him.

“Had to give Harry some protection from getting mauled, didn’t we?” Fred chimed in as he grinned at her in the rearview mirror.

“Excuse me?” she gasped as she crossed her arms.

“You were pretty angry before we got here,” Ron pointed out quietly before wincing as she turned a glare to him.

…

Fred landed the car sometime in the morning and drove it down a dirt path a ways towards a large house in the middle of nowhere. Everyone climbed out of the car and Fiona threw her arms around Harry’s neck. He chuckled as he hugged her back.

“I missed you,” she said.

“I missed you too, Fee,” he said. She pulled away and looked up at him.

“You’ve gotten taller,” she said with a pout making him chuckle again. “I’ve only been gone a month or so,” she muttered.

“I didn’t get a hug,” Ron said with a frown.

“You want a hug?” Fiona asked.

“W-Well, I was just saying…”

“Come here.” Fiona threw her arms around him and he grinned making Harry laugh.

“Follow us,” George said as the group headed towards the house. Fred opened the window of a door before unlatching it and opening it.

“Come on. Okay, come on. Shh! Shh! Ok, come on. Shh! Come on,” Fred said. Harry grinned at the pan that was washing itself before heading over to a large grandfather clock.

“Do you think it’d be all right if we had some of this?” Ron asked motioning to some rolls on a plate on the table.

“Yeah, Mum would never know,” George said. Harry watched as three hands, with pictures of the three Weasley’s in the room, moved from Lost to Home.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Fiona asked as she stood beside him. Harry walked passed it to see knitting needles working by themselves.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Ron said with a mouthful of bread

“I think it’s brilliant,” Harry said and Fiona nodded in agreement. Suddenly Mrs. Weasley came down and stood behind a chair to address the group.

“Where have you been?!” The three boys hid the bread behind their backs. “Harry, how wonderful to see you dear,” she said walking over with a smile. It was gone as she looked at the other boys. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone! You could have died! You could have been seen!” She softened her tone as she looked to Harry. “Of course, I don’t blame you, Harry dear. Oh and bringing poor Fiona into it!” Fiona smiled sheepishly at her, no one was going to reveal that it had been her idea in the first place.

“They were starving him, Mum. There were bars on his window!” Ron explained.

“Well, you’d best hope that I don’t put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley!” Ron’s eyes widened. “Come on Harry, time for a spot of breakfast.”

…

Everyone sat down at the table. Percy came down shaking his head, knowing his younger siblings had gotten into trouble, and sat down next to the twins. Harry sat next to Ron and Fiona sat across from Percy.

“Here we are Harry. Now tuck in! That’s it. There we go,” Mrs. Weasley said. Ginny, the youngest and only other female Weasley, ran down the stairs and into the room.

“Mummy, have you seen my jumper?” she asked.  

“Yes dear. It was on the cat.” Ginny smiled then noticed Harry.

“Hello,” he said with a smile. Ginny’s eyes widened and she slowly backed up before running upstairs. The twins snickered. “W-what did I do?

“Ginny. She’s been talking about you all summer. A bit annoying really,” Ron said shaking his head before he started to cut his food. Fiona rolled her eyes but paused.

“You have a cat?” she asked. The twins snickered while Ron shook his head.

“It’s hook. Over the fireplace,” he clarified. Fiona nodded. A man appeared in the doorway.

“Morning, Weasleys.”

“Morning, Dad,” Fred, George and Ron said.

“Morning Arthur!” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Morning, Fiona,” Arthur added.

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” Fiona said as he came over to the table.

“What a night. Nine raids. Nine!” Arthur told them.

“Raids?” Harry asked.

“Dad works in the Ministry of Magic, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office,” Ron said. “Dad loves Muggles, thinks they’re fascinating.” Arthur sat down at the head of the table.

“Well now. Aah!” He finally noticed Harry. “And who are you?”

“Oh, sorry sir. I’m Harry, sir, Harry Potter.”

“Good Lord! Are you really? Well, Ron’s told us all about you, of course. As did Fiona,” he added. Fiona’s cheeks went pink. “When did he get here?”

“This morning. Your sons flew that enchanted car of yours to Surrey and back last night,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Did you really? How’d it go? Did you—“ Arthur asked. The four boys went to answer when Mrs. Weasley turned back to him

“Arthur!”

“I mean...that was very wrong, indeed, boys. Very wrong of you. Now, Harry, you must know all about Muggles. Tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?”

“Oh, umm...” Harry started but had to stop and think.

“Aesthetic most likely,” Fiona muttered.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “That.” Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, clearly not done speaking about the enchanted car. Ron leaned close to Harry.

“Let’s leave them to it,” he muttered. “Come on, I’ll show you my bedroom.” The two slipped out of the kitchen, Fiona following behind, down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase. Ron stopped seeing Fiona was following.

“What?” she asked as she crossed her arms.

“I kinda… I was talking to Harry,” he clarified sheepishly.

“What? I can’t see your room too?” Fiona put her hands on her hips and both boys gulped.

“Well…I mean… you’re a girl. You could hang out with Ginny?” he suggested. She crossed her arms again with a huff but didn’t argue any further. The three started up the stairs. On the third landing one of the doors was cracked open and Harry caught sight of a pair of brown eyes just before the door closed. “Ginny’s room,” Ron said, looking to Fiona. “You don’t know how weird it is for her to be shy. Never shuts up normally.” The two boys continued upstairs while Fiona stood outside Ginny’s door. “You can knock you know!” Ron called back down making her jump. Fiona knocked on the door and a few moments later it was slowly opened by the youngest Weasley.

“Yes?”

“Ron won’t let me in his room,” Fiona complained with a pout as she tightened her crossed arms. Ginny grinned and opened the door for the older girl to come in.

“You get used to that.”

  ______________________

After a week of Fiona and Harry staying at the Weasley’s (Harry staying with Ron in his room while Fiona stayed with Ginny), everyone was sitting at the kitchen table for breakfast when they heard an owl screech.

“Well, that’ll be Errol with the post,” Mrs. Weasley said. The table turned to see an owl slam right into the window. “Oh, fetch it will you Percy, please?” Percy nodded and got up.

“Errol,” he said. The owl hopped up and gave him the letters.

“He’s always doing that,” Ron said.

“Oh look, it’s our Hogwarts letters. And they’ve sent us Harry’s and Fiona’s as well.” Percy handed out each letter.

“Dumbledore must know you two’re here, Harry. Doesn’t miss a trick, that man,” Arthur said.

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Weasley agreed. Fiona opened her letter and looked over the list of required books.

“Who’s Gilderoy Lockhart? We’ve a lot of books by him on the list,” she noted, looking up a moment later to see all of the Weasley’s looking at her and Harry looking just as confused as she was. “What did I say?” she asked.

“You’ve never heard of Gilderoy Lockhart?” Ron asked. “Mum loves him,” he muttered.

“This lot won’t come cheap, Mum,” Fred said. “Lockhart’s books are really expensive.”

“We’ll manage,” their mother said.

“I got Hermione’s answer! Finally,” Ron muttered. “I wrote to her before we-“ He glanced at his mother. “- rescued you.” He read the letter aloud to everyone. Hermione expressed her worries about Harry and Ron attempting to rescue him in a legal way. She also mentioned that she and her parents were going to get her school supplies that coming Wednesday.

“Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too,” Mrs. Weasley said. “What are you all up to today?” She looked towards the boys and the twins explained that they were going to play some practice Quidditch (with apples) where no Muggles would see them.

…

That Wednesday, after breakfast, everyone gathered in front of the fireplace.

“Right.” Mrs. Weasley picked up a container on the mantel place. “Here we are Harry, you go first dear.”

“But Harry’s never traveled by Floo powder before, Mum,” Ron informed her.

“Floo powder?” Harry asked.

“Oh, well you go first Ron, so that he can see how it’s done. Yes. In you go... That’s it.” Ron took a handful of floo powder.

“Diagon Alley!” Ron exclaimed before throwing the powder down. There was a burst of green flames making Harry and Fiona jump.

“You see? It’s quite easy, dear. Don’t be afraid. Come on,” Mrs. Weasley said. Arthur patted Harry on the back. “Come on. In you go. That’s it, mind your head. That’s right. Now take your Floo powder. That’s it, very good. Now, don’t forget to speak very, very clearly.

“Diaganilly.”

“What did he say, dear?”

“‘Diaganilly,’” Arthur repeated.

“I thought he did.”

“I take it Harry went somewhere else?” Fiona asked.

“We’ll just have to find him. Don’t worry, dear. You next.” Fiona gulped; she never liked traveling by floo. She ended up saying the destination correctly and meeting up with Ron.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked.

“He kind of mispronounced Diagon alley.”

“How’d he mange that?” Ron asked. Fiona shrugged.

“He was nervous. I’m surprised I didn’t mess it up,” she admitted.

“Well, we’ll find him. Once mum and the others come through,” Ron assured her. The two moved out of the way as the rest of the family appeared.

“Any sign of him?” Fred asked.

“Not yet,” Fiona said.

“Eh, he’ll turn up,” George said.

“Eventually,” theysaid in unison.

“No sign of Harry?” mrs. Weasley asked. The group shook their heads. “Oh dear.” Fiona gasped seeing a family head of bushy brown hair standing by the bank steps.

“Hermione!” she called. The girl turned and smiled when she saw the group.

“Hey Hermione,” Ron said with a smile.

“Hello, Fiona, Ron. Is Harry with you?” she asked with a confused frown.

“Uh…” Ron smiled sheepishly.

“He got a bit… lost,” Fiona told her.

“Floo powder,” Ron explained.

“There he is!” Hermione exclaimed as she pointed. The group turned to see Hagrid and Harry walking up. Harry’s hair was somehow a bit messier and there was soot on his face.

“Oh, Harry! Thank goodness! We’d hoped you’d only gone one grate too far,” Mrs. Weasley said as she brushed off his cloak after Mr. Weasley fixed the crack in his glasses. She proceeded to thank Hagrid before he had to go. The group walked into the bank to get the money they needed for supplies.

“Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes,” Harry said to Ron and the others. “Malfoy and his father.”

“Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?” Mr. Weasley asked sharply from behind them.

“No, he was selling-“

“So he’s worried,” Mr. Weasley said with grim satisfaction. “Oh, I’d love to get Lucius Malfoy for something.”

…

They got the required money from their respective vaults; Harry was a bit embarrassed about the amount in his compared to the Weasley’s. Mr. Weasley was delighted to talk to, and ask, Hermione’s parents about Muggle things. He took them to the Leaky Cauldron for drinks while Mrs. Weasley took Ginny to a second hand robe shop.

“We’ll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books,” Mrs. Weasley said to everyone before shouting at the twin’s backs. “And not one step down Knockturn Alley!”

The four second years went window shopping, eating ice cream Harry bought them all, before they met up with the others in Flourish and Blotts. They saw a banner for Gilderoy Lockhart signing books that day and Hermione was clearly excited though the others didn’t share her view. The four grabbed the only book on their list not by Lockhart before pushing their way to the Weasley and the Granger parents.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart.” A man walked out and people started clapping.

“Ah! Here he is!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. Harry and Fiona looked confused but clapped as well.

“Mum fancies him,” Ron said. Mrs. Weasley lightly smacked his arm.

“Make way there,” a photographer said. “Please! Let me by, madam. Thank you. Excuse me, little girl. This is for the Daily Prophet.” He said as he pushed past Ginny. The photographer took a photo and Lockhart turned to change poses when he saw Harry.

“It can’t be- Harry Potter?” he asked. The photographer turned to see him.

“Harry Potter! Excuse me, madam.” He grabbed Harry by the shoulder and brought him beside Lockhart.

“Nice big smile, Harry,” Lockhart said pulling Harry to him, putting an arm around his shoulders before facing the camera. “Together you and I rate the front page.” The camera flashed. “Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is. When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning to purchase my autobiography, Magical Me….” the crowd clapped. Fiona noticed Hermione’s smile and couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She and Ron were the only two not clapping. “which, incidentally is currently celebrating its 27th week atop the Daily Prophet bestseller list,” Fiona just happened to glance up and saw Draco looking down over the railing of the second floor. He was, of course, glaring down at Harry and didn’t seem to notice her at first. When he did his eyes seemed to light up and he stood up straight but Fiona quickly looked away before he could wave or smirk at her. “he had no idea that he would, in fact, be leaving...” Lockhart looked a man beside him who quickly picked up a stack of books and handed them to him. Lockhart handed them to Harry. “with my entire collected works, free of charge.” Another photo was taken before Harry was allowed to return to the others with his signed books. Lockhart sat down ready to sign more books. “Now, ladies?”

The group of children moved past the crowd towards the front of the store while the parents all bought the books; (Fiona had given the required amount of money to Mrs. Weasley after she had told Fiona she’d get them for her as well.)

“You have mine,” Harry said to Ginny as he put his books into the cauldron she was holding. “I’ll buy my own –  ”  Draco, who was on the stairs with a book, noticed them approaching and ripped out a page before going down the rest of the stairs to confront them.

“I’ll bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” he spat. “Famous Harry Potter! Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

“Leave him alone,” Ginny said stepping forward.

“Oh look, Potter. You’ve got yourself a girlfriend,” Draco teased. Suddenly a blond man, his father Lucius, put his hand on his shoulder.

“Now, now Draco, play nicely. Mr. Potter... Lucius Malfoy.” He held out a hand and Harry politely shook it. “We meet at last. Forgive me,” He used his cane to move Harry’s hair aside to see his scar. “your scar is legend, as, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you.”

“Voldemort killed my parents. He was nothing more than a murderer,” Harry said as Hermione pushed her way to the group and stood between Fiona and Ginny.

“Hmm. You must be very brave, to mention his name...or very foolish,” Lucius said.

“Fear of a name only increase fear of the thing itself,” Hermione said.

“And you must be... Miss Granger.” Lucius looked to his son before looking back at her. “Yes, Draco’s told me all about you, and your parents.” Hermione looked over to where her parents were talking with Arthur. “Muggles, aren’t they?” He looked back at her and Hermione did her best not to openly glare at him. Lucius turned to look at Ron and the others. “Let me see...red hair... vacant expressions...” he took a book out of Ginny’s cauldron. “tatty second hand book. You must be the Weasleys.”

“Children, it’s mad in here! Let’s go outside,” Arthur said as he came up to the group.

“Well, well, well. Weasley senior,” Lucius said.

“Lucius,” Arthur said.

“Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur, all those extra raids? I do hope they’re paying you overtime, but judging by the state of this, I’d say not. What’s the use in being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it.”

“We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” Arthur said.

“Clearly. Associating with Muggles,” he muttered quietly. He put Ginny’s book back. “and I thought your family could sink no lower. “

“I see where you get your rudeness,” Fiona said under her breath as she gave Draco a side glare. He shifted on his feet slightly and couldn’t meet her eyes. It was then his father seemed to notice her.

“Miss Gaunt.” He gave her a smile. “Where is your father?” he asked.

“He and my mother are home. I came with the Weasley’s,” she declared proudly, standing up straight as if daring him to say something else rude about them. Lucius looked from her to his son and back. Fiona glanced at Draco to see him frowning slightly but he quickly masked it when he realized she was looking at him again.

“Draco’s told me much about you as well,” Lucius told her with a smile. Draco looked at his dad before looking away from Fiona completely. Lucius gave her a small nod before looking at Arthur.  “I’ll see you at work,” he said to him before walking away. Draco moved in front of Harry.

“See you at school,” he said. He glanced at Fiona briefly before following his dad.

“How many more years do we have to deal with him?” Fiona groaned.

______________________

(Next Chapter)

A/N: Reminder some scenes/parts were from the book because I liked them better and they made the chapter longer. Hope you’re enjoying what I’ve changed/added so far.

[verticalfrontalsomething]

cool i love losing my job for something that’s bullshit

i know you’re not supposed to name companies when you bitch about them online but fuck them tbh Fun Brands Carousels can officially kiss the fattest part of my ass

it’s the only company I’ve ever had the misfortune of working for that just makes the employees responsible for the drawer. the assistant manager of my location counted the drawer, then made change for herself, without adjusting the numbers or counting it again to make sure that she hadn’t fucked anything up. I didn’t have enough customers that night to actually offset my drawer by $5, but it was off, somehow or another. in any other company (one that functions properly, anyway), the managers would deal with that. so when I explained what I’m pretty sure happened (and pointed out that i didn’t have $5 regardless, so I sure as shit couldn’t put it back in the drawer), apparently it meant that I was having an attitude. I’ve been dealing with having a shitty attitude at work lately. I’ve gotten a hell of a lot better. 

I started working there in may last year. in the whole year, I was like a model employee, I was friendly, I was sociable, I was great with kids and parents and coworkers-- until I moved, and a lot of other shit happened all at once. instead of saying something to me, I basically got thrown under the bus- there was a misunderstanding where one customer thought I was being incredibly rude to her (which I wasn’t, I handed her her card back and said something kind of flustered to another customer), and they just wrote me up for it and gave the woman free rides and whatever else she asked for. 

so I was in a worse mood, because the company clearly doesn’t care for its employees, or the truth, so it put me in a worse mood when I came to work. this still wasn’t enough for anyone to say a fucking thing to me, so one write-up later, and the AM finally says “hey what the fuck is going on with you” but isn’t really asking because she wants to know, she’s asking because it’s fucking with my work, like she’s really only asking because she drew the short straw on that one and even though apparently EVERYONE I work with noticed, no one bothered to ask me what was going on. I said I’d fix the attitude and as far as I’m aware, I did.

beginning of this year, and I’m sick. like very sick. (details of that are not important, apparently, because no one I work with bothered to ask about anything whatsoever.) I had already worked through one day, with every movement making me feel like I wanted to die. the way the carousel works, there’s one person there at a time, usually for a shift that covers about half of the day. I was supposed to close, so I texted everyone I had numbers for, including the husband of one of my coworkers (whose number was listed on our call sheet, so I guess joke’s on me for assuming that was a valid option), asking if anyone could cover. no one could, but I was feeling so bad that going to work would have probably put me in the hospital. I was a little short with my boss when I told her that, and when I told her that I just was not coming in to work that night, but I was very ill and I was hoping someone might understand that. I was wrong, and received my third write-up within a month. at this point, my AM makes it a point to tell me how hard they fought with corporate to keep me around, that I’m a good addition, this that and the other, but if one more thing happened, I was done. I said alright, I understand that, but that write-up was bullshit, because I did actually end up in the hospital, I was very sick (which may not excuse my rudeness and “insubordination”, but explains it), and I wasn’t told that the coworker whose husband I texted had a new number, so they were calling it “inappropriate text and call contact with -coworker-’s husband”. I texted him twice, once to ask if she could cover, once to thank him for responding. that was it. 

so basically, I was in trouble because a.) while everyone noticed that I was in a really rough spot, no one bothered to say anything about it for over a month until customers complained, b.) I was sick and it put me in a worse mood because again, no one gave a shit until it inconvenienced them, and then that was the only thing they cared about, c.) the GM could only be bothered to communicate via passive aggressive notes, she doesn’t bother following any of the rules that we’re told are super important, like writing down counts (when I pointed that out to her today, she fired back with “but is my drawer ever off?” like she would fucking do anything about it if it was), and d.) my AM may have fucked up a count on a drawer, but since I didn’t count it myself (because we never do), I was responsible for it (which no company even does), and when I pointed out that maybe it wasn’t my fault, I was told that I just have an attitude and it’s clearly not getting any better and it’s just not working etc.

I was there for almost a year. it was working just fine for literally the first seven months. then a bunch of shit happened, my immediate management showed me that they honestly don’t care what’s going on with their employees, upper management showed that they definitely don’t care about their employees at all, and I was told by my GM that it’s not her job to “babysit” me. no one asked her to, like a little communication would have been nice, because when I got to work sunday, I assumed the drawer issue had been fixed somehow or another, because no one bothered to say a single goddamn thing to me about it. so apparently, any communication whatsoever would have been “babysitting” me, and so I was fired. over the phone. a week before I was going out of town for a week because my boyfriend is having surgery so I wouldn’t have been scheduled anyway. because it makes total sense to do that, when they already complain that they’re understaffed because there were five people (GM, AM who may be about to leave, woman who was gone for knee surgery and just returned, woman who’s allegedly put in her notice and told them she’ll stick around until they get a new person trained, and me. so now they’re down one, getting rid of me. not that I really care if it inconveniences them at this point.

tl;dr: local jackass gets fired because management can’t be assed to just talk to their employees, leading to a catastrophic breakdown and hopefully eventual closure of not just the carousel location, but also the mall. 

[twisted-petal]

Death Continued: Part 3

([I’m doing a shit-poor job with timelines, trying to compress these stories/rants. The trip was two days after my birthday)]

Here’s the thing: I kept offering to pay for gas and she only accepted half the amount of one tank fill, I handed her my card and told her to use it to feed the parking meter, as well as buy food and any other supplies she needed, and even had my card when she went to pick up my meds, and I repeatedly told her that she could return home on her own and I had plenty to take a bus home. She wouldn’t use my money. She wouldn’t accept my offers. She refused to go home as she wanted to be sure I was taken care of. Suddenly I am at fault for the money she spent on our trip and for missing a day of work. Puppy didn’t even like her there, and was annoyed at how she was “caring” for me. She also bleached his towel with her weird face cream… Knowing we were staying a night there and that her face crap stains fabrics, she didn’t bring her own towel. ¬__¬ I’m just a freak and wanted to share his things and was intentionally a dick by not bringing my towel… But I didn’t bleach anything!

The doctor at the Clinic was irritating enough as is. She insisted that I had good poisoning, despite me repeatedly telling her I hadn’t even eaten anything and that this had happened to me fairly recently. She prescribed me pills for gas (or something, I forget as they didn’t do anything for me) and nausea (which didn’t help at all, unlike the one she gave me in the waiting room that worked immediately). This illness happened to me twice more.

The last time this happened to me was at the end of December, and the landlady said we needed to be out of the house the next day. No other heads up as to when we were moving, and this was at least three months before she had promised our move would be, as well as a month, two months, 3 weeks, 2 weeks, and 3 months after the date she said we would be moving - to name a few.

We fought for the first time since I moved in, she threw a tantrum and tossed things around as I tried to find clarification, express concerns, and, well get pissed that she kept changing the dates and how sudden things were. We chilled, she apologized, and I went to take a shower to relax before packing.

Feeling ill instead of relaxed, I cut my shower short, stepped out and grabbed my towel to dry off, and found myself on the floor (this also has to do with an ordeal that happened in October). I started texting my mother and wasn’t making any sense, so she sent her sister over to check things out. I was on the bathroom floor for almost an hour before finding the strength to stand, slowly pull some clothes on, and apparently go around the corner to my room - I barely remember getting there.

Mother refused to go near the house. She did not like the landlady and she had been to the house a few times in the past, as it was a place people would go to do hard drugs… I had been told by her son that she was clean, didn’t drink anymore, and just smoked weed on occasion. Right. Mother was also finishing a program with whatever place she was in to prove she didn’t have to go to jail or some shit. This was a house she couldn’t enter. -Side story: She graduated and is doing a fair job at adopting. Even though she keeps lying to me and breaking the damn rules I gave her when allowing her to borrow my fucking car. *supaishi* She isn’t even taking me out to drive, as per the stipulations to using my car, which I could really freaken use right now. She is still doing a decent job at keeping up with paying for insurance and her half of the phone bill; Although, she’s been less prompt about it. *deep breath* I am trying to be patient. She’s trying to adult for once and a lot is going on for the both of us. I’m just stressed.

Anyway. My aunt determined that I was having an anxiety attack. Anxiety, panic, stress, whatever it was, it was terrible. I was stuck in bed for almost a week. That being said, we had to be out of the house by 5pm New Years Day, and it was December 29th. No one could/would come help me. I managed a few boxes on my own, and my aunt forgot that she promised to come help before coming in at the last couple hours to help through things out of my room. I tried calling Corey, as he had come by that night to try to be a decent person (we were not together at the time, but it was the best night we had together. I didn’t have to beg to be held or anything. We talked, cuddled, and slept), but he was too busy hanging out with his sister and her friends (as always…). We texted a couple times after that, primarily me trying desperately to believe there was some good in him, then broke all contact between us…

Just a few days after the move I was informed my grandmother finally went to see a doctor. She was diagnosed with bone cancer and emphasima, and an estimate of 6 months to live - She lasted 3. It was guessed that within three months before this, she had lost a sizeable chunk of bone in her hip and ribs. Since being diagnosed, she kept developing more problem, or they would find new things that were wrong. I wasn’t updated with most of it, but what I did know of was the abscess on her lower back/rear, and whatever yeast infection in her mouth (I can’t remember at the moment, though I would update FB each time I got new information), and a urinary infection that was found after I convinced her to go to the hospital - the family couldn’t get her to go, so when I leaned down to hug her before I went back home, I whispered in her ear to go. She knew that when I spoke, I meant what I said; I spoke with purpose, as I don’t speak often.

Shortly after being diagnosed she had an allergic reaction to the Percocet, losing her appetite and barely drinking (which helped form the infection). She was too haunted by memories of her parents and husband to fight on. Mother did not take me to see her during her last week, knowing she was getting worse.

A couple weeks before she passed I moved out of the psycho house to live with an old co-worker and his three housemates. I needed to wait out her place until midnight when he got off work. She got to meet all the critters. Wistala was first as she also lives with some bone loss, and having her sitting on Grams seemed to motivate her to finally eat the food we gave her. Jackness sat with her for about an hour as she kept dozing off while petting him, he would shift when her hand stopped, waking her up to pet him again. He eventually moved up to her lap (he normally doesn’t like sitting on people).

I took a couple picture of her with Wistala and Jack. I’m also not going to go into detail about some of the things that I found out during this time that we a harsh slap to the face of how much I didn’t mean to her compared to other and all this other nonesense, because, well, whatever now… She would, however, take anything I said into consideration and actually listened to me. I was the only one treating her as her, and she knew to listen when I spoke.

Now… I have no real way of easing into this, so I’m just going to throw it in now. This was the vent post I made on my alt account… Which will be in a new post as it is too large. I’ll be sure they’re posted together and just end this one now. Would be nice if I could actually choose the exact time... Once I get everything written up I'll just post them all.

[theradicalintrovert]

“Victim mentality”

If it’s essential for parents to want their kids to be better versions of themselves, is it not acceptable for kids to want the same from the parents? Or are the kids too “naive”, and “don’t know what they want”?

Well, for one thing, kids do know when they want more love. 

I sat in silence having porridge for breakfast planning the workday in my head, when Mom uncharacteristically decides to give me company. “Why do you carry so many cards in your wallet?” she asks.

She knows just the right buttons to press at the right time. I say nothing. Like always. What she means is why do I carry around my IDs and my debit and credit cards in my wallet when I could carry only the essentials, while keeping some safely at home (in the event of me losing my wallet). She means well.

“Do not go through my wallet,” I reply, trying to keep calm while my slightly raised voice betrays me. Well the conversation ends with her getting defensive and saying “I don’t go through your wallet,” etc. 

Lies.

You see, she has been doing that for years now. Going through my drawer, my books, and my wallet. And that has perhaps made me even more fiercely protective of my privacy. When I stuff sponge in the keyhole of my bedroom door, I come back from work, to see it removed. It has come to a point where I can no longer consider that space as my home. It’s not. It’s my parents’s home, not mine. 

Perhaps I’ll paint an incomplete picture without giving you a backstory. I was brought up in the tea gardens of Assam and Kerala, while studying in Darjeeling and Ooty, respectively. My brother (5 years older), studied in the same boarding schools. It was a beautiful life, the ones you read in story books, with streams, outdoor fun, childish adventures, et al. 

Soon though, we moved to the city (Calcutta), a noisy chaotic mess that people somehow found ‘convenient’. My grades dropped, my interactions with people changed, I suddenly had access to all the distractions that a city had to offer, but most crucially, I came back home to my parents every day after school. From ‘talking’ to them once every two weeks by an inland letter, now I had to talk to them every day. 

As I struggled to adjust to this life (from the real jungle to this concrete one), my grades fell dramatically. Soon whatever talk was had with my parents, revolved around this. Screw friendships, screw play time, first get your grades straight then think about other things. Yeah I remember quite clearly what Dad said - there’s no point in making friends; eventually they’ll all go away and no one will be there for you when you need them. You need to be able to do things yourself. 

Great advice. So I stopped allowing myself to get close to people emotionally. always kept a distance. Didn’t go out with them as much. Heck even if I wanted to, I couldn’t because I never got any money, because you know, my grades were not good enough. So here I was in a new city, in a new setting, new school, new acquaintances, distancing myself from friends, no money to hang out with them either, but somehow a new girlfriend. 

Yes, in the 8th standard, I began seeing someone. Respite from the other crap. Also made me feel good about myself. I had something (someone) to look forward to everyday. She paid for everything when we went out. She called me on my brother’s phone at night. She was not perfect for me, but at the time, she was what I needed. 

Predictably enough, my folks found out about it. And when they did, all my money (whatever I had managed to accrue) was taken, my landline privileges revoked, and thus began the age of monitoring. My mom would be around every time I got a call. If I had to step out, I would be given exact change for the bus/auto fare. I had to borrow money from my brother to go out with her, buy her gifts on birthdays, buy my friends gifts (”what’s the point when you won’t get gifts from them in return” - probably because I never got the money to treat them somewhere. Nor did I invite them home because I always thought they would inconvenience Mom, and she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to tell me how it was not ideal to have them over). So I convinced myself that celebrating birthdays was a bad idea, and that only superficial people (read: rich) do it. I mean who celebrates the day they became a burden to the earth. I found meaning in the philosophy that productivity should be celebrated, and not mere existence.

Sounds fair, I guess.

I think they got used to the fact that I would probably never achieve the academic heights I once reached. My other achievements went largely unnoticed. When I became the school’s football captain, the house captain, regional finalist in the American Spelling Bee (twice),  the top scorer in the Green Olympiad (nation-wide), one of the highest performers in the ASSET test (nation-wide), and other inconsequential things. 

If home was a pressure cooker, at least in school things began to improve. Sometime during that blissful period, Mom saw me watching porn. My brother’s collection, but obviously I couldn’t out him. I told them I found the disc in school and next thing you know they come to school and talk to the principal regarding this. Yet another father-son moment that could have been...

Then after the 10th Standard, I had to change school. Money was short and the school wasn’t going to reduce its fees. So off I went, leaving the rich kids of DPS, to a local school. The teachers here would also take tuition classes of these very students (so ethics went beautifully out of the window). The kids here would take these tuition classes, else they would be subjected to grading bias. 

Run like a typical government institution, it was no surprise that the people who came to study here, too were from a different background, and culture. Barring a handful, I couldn’t have a conversation with any one of them. This was the phase where I got addicted to computer games. I would leave for school but instead of actually going, I started visiting this cyber cafe. I couldn’t bring myself to go to school. In the 12th grade, my attendance dropped to 19% before the school called my parents asking about me. 

What ensued was a slap on the face (quite literally) and even more monitoring. So much so that my brother was then tasked with accompanying me to school every day. Perhaps I deserved it. It was the most important year of my school and I was slacking. 

Then came college. Went to Mumbai. 3 years there on a pocket money of 1,500 per month (in Mumbai, yes). Sure I had hostel, and food. Perhaps I did not need more. I stopped buying clothes altogether, not that I used to do much shopping before. Again, who needs new clothes when you have your mind to colour your world. Death to superficiality! Never mind the embarrassment of going out on that rare occasion looking like the change in your wallet (useful sure, but you’d rather have notes).   

Did not get placed anywhere so came back home directly after college, with nowhere to go (story for another day). I was definitely living up to my father’s dream. Did a course which he did not approve of. Took 5 years to complete a 3-year course. And came back home without a job. 

Finally though I managed to bag a sales job in a multinational company. Something I was clearly not suited for. But I took it because the money was not bad (anything more than zero was not bad). Within 3 months I felt the pressure to leave, and that is exactly what I did. Didn’t tell anyone I was struggling. How could I tell my parents? They thought here I was at least doing something instead of just lazing around in the house. I couldn’t muster the courage to tell them I couldn’t do this, and that I was thinking of quitting. 

Anyway when Dad found out that I left the company, the first thing he asked was, “Did you leave, or were you fired?” In hindsight, I think he just genuinely wanted to understand the circumstances of my departure. Well, I guess I would have been fired eventually had I not left. I stayed jobless for a while after that. Applied to loads of places, even if it meant doing something I did not particularly like. I couldn’t stay there could I, using up the space in the home, while contributing nothing. Here I was crying myself to sleep for failing to launch but what good would that do? I needed to stand on my feet and do something for myself instead of moping all the time.

Finally I got a job in a content writing firm in Bombay. Once again to the land of opportunities. I think my parents were proud, to some extent. My dad cried as my train left the station. The second stint wasn’t that bad. I was getting by, barely. But it was nice to be able to stretch my legs. But good things rarely last, and soon I was moving about more than I wanted, getting ripped off more than I would have liked, and then came an opportunity to open a new branch office in Calcutta. 

I came back. Left all my clients, my independent life, because how often does one get an opportunity to head a branch office. But I thought being 24, and a person who does all this would change the perception that my parents would have of me. But predictably Mom began to rifle through my things once again and found weed in my drawer. Here I thought we had moved beyond this surveillance. But apparently not. However she decided not to question me about this at all. In fact she took the box and kept it - perhaps wanting an escape from all the failures I’ve brought upon them. 

Anyway, today she came and asked me about the cards in the wallet thing. Well, she was right. Like they always are. Perhaps I don’t know anything.  

[worldfootprints]

I held on to the apple for a moment, enjoying its weight in my hand. Even more than the feel of the fruit, I enjoyed the fact that it was going to cost me less than two dollars per pound. After living on a Caribbean island for two years, where everything cost at least twice as much, affordable fruit felt like a dream come true. I hate Wal-Mart, with its crowded aisles and blistering overhead lights, but I was excited to buy something there without buyer’s remorse. I placed the apple on the conveyor belt and watched the cashier ring it up. He told me my total. “Do you have chip?” He asked. Chip? I looked at my purchases. No potato chips, corn chips, or even poker chips. What? I stared at him blankly. “Chip,” he repeated, “To pay for your groceries.” Good heavens, I thought, are we getting implanted with the Mark of the Beast now?

Returning Home to a Changed City

Becoming an expat in Sint Maarten was hard, with culture shock taking the wind out of my sails for days at a time at the beginning. It is a beautiful island, but the casual attitude towards time, the unfamiliar traffic culture, and my trouble communicating in the local dialect of English wore me down. Coming back home was supposed to be a breeze, but the chip episode was only the first of many repatriation struggles. While everyone in the States was securing their bank accounts with a credit card chip, island folk were still a-swiping their plastic long after my plane landed in Phoenix.

I had lived in the Phoenix area for 20 years, but after only two years of living overseas, I felt like a newcomer. New businesses had popped up in place of my old favorite hangouts. Friends of mine had gotten married, had babies, moved, bought homes. I, however, couldn’t remember how to drive to places in my hometown and had to rely on my phone for everything from Google maps to finding fair gas prices. Even more challenging than my changed hometown were my changed relationships. In a few cases, I found that old friends had changed so much I hardly knew them anymore. More disconcertingly, however, was discovering how much I had changed.

A lazy Sint Maarten beach

Changes Abroad

I am sure every repatriating expat discovers they have become a different person during their time overseas. For me, the experience was sharpened because aside from learning to adapt to the Caribbean’s cultural mold, I had done a lot of growing up in those years. When I arrived with my husband, I was twenty-one, had been married and out of the suburbs only a year. I had a whopping three months of post-college life experience. By the time we went home, I had not only learned a lot about being a grown-up, but had managed to adapt to life without Wal-Mart or six-lane highways. I learned to keep house, shop, cook, and clean in a totally foreign environment. I had been a foster mom. I was an online graduate student and had started a freelance writing career, no thanks to the challenges of spotty electricity and internet. I had learned to navigate the geography, social expectations, and lingo of a foreign country.

Most importantly, I had become a part of a society that was incredibly different than what I had experienced in the neat, landscaped rows of houses in my childhood neighborhood. Phoenix is a city where a nod of acknowledgement is about all you can expect from Nike-sporting, sports-car driving neighbors. In the Caribbean, I greeted everyone and received a greeting back as I climbed onto a bus, or stopped on the street to talk to acquaintances, or enjoyed conversation with prominent members of society, or practiced my flimsy Spanish skills with a hitchhiker riding shotgun. The Dutch half of Sint Maarten, where I lived, covers less than 15 square miles of the 37-square-mile island of Saint Martin. The whole island was the size of a small city, separated into neighborhoods and fishing villages. Everyone recognized everyone, and I found my place in this close community.

Re-entering the United States was a baptism back into anonymity. My accent no longer turned heads, nobody asked me where I was from. No famous people waved to me—not that I ran into them in the streets here, anyway! And no kids came running for a hug when I was out doing errands. That had become my daily norm, and it was hard to re-adjust. In a day, I went from tight-knit community to the glazed-eyed indifference of a giant metropolis. I had a hard time relating to the people I did interact with. I probably lost some friends during my first summer home, because I was a bit of a hermit. I found it increasingly difficult to relate to people and feel okay about interactions. What do you talk about with people who have no way to relate to the last two years of your life, and vice versa?

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Beach Days and Rainbows

To be honest, I probably could have handled repatriation better than I did. Each time someone asked how my time in the Caribbean was, they expected accounts of beach days and rainbows. I did have those, sure. But my life had been made up of helping kids navigate the challenges of growing up as I volunteered with the local Little League and foster system, dealing with uncomfortable social situations and difficult culture barriers, battling our beat-up Mitsubishi Lancer, and walking through the ups and downs of life with both expats and locals. I found that as I talked about these things, people would usually listen politely but lose interest in the conversation. For a few months, I felt isolated by this and reacted by withdrawing. As time went on and I acclimated to life in the city once again, however, I realized some important lessons.

First, I accepted that it is OK to struggle with repatriation. Life had changed once again. I had to redefine my identity, in a way. Moving is always hard, and it was unrealistic to expect to slide right back in to my old life… especially considering I didn’t have my old job, home, or neighbors back. Secondly, I realized that it was totally unfair of me to expect everyone to understand my experiences when they had no way to relate to it. I couldn’t understand all of their life experiences, so why did I expect them to connect to this aspect of my life? I saved the deep conversations about the expat experience with other former expats and decided to spend my time with other friends learning to readapt to American norms. Slowly, life started to feel normal again.

Why aren’t we, as expats, having more conversations about how to deal with the fact that going back home is unexpectedly painful? We talk about our struggles with overseas culture shock and how to laugh in the face of change. But we rarely talk about reverse culture shock, which is almost worse, since it’s so unexpected. What’s the solution to this struggle? I don’t know that there is one. If nothing else, it helps to be willing to laugh at yourself. Like anything in life, repatriation requires letting go of expectations and a holding on to positivity. If you can do that, you can survive anything… including when you no longer know how to pay for groceries!

The Bittersweet Experience of Repatriation I held on to the apple for a moment, enjoying its weight in my hand. Even more than the feel of the fruit, I enjoyed the fact that it was going to cost me less than two dollars per pound.