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melodious-madrigals · 4 years ago

Text

we should just kiss (like real people do)

hi @misha-winchester, i am your wondertrev secret santa! i hope you had a lovely christmas season/whatever holidays you may celebrate, and i hope you have a very happy new year.

Pairing: Diana Prince/Steve Trevor Words: 8′609 Rating: T (swearing) AO3 tags: Modern Setting/No Powers, co-workers, Fake Dating, ‘and there was only one bed’, Hallmark-movie-esque midsunderstandings, Happy Ending Summary: Etta just invited Steve’s significant other along on their group holiday vacation. The only problem? He made said significant other up to get out of a series of set-ups six months ago, and forgot to set the record straight. Enter Diana, his newest co-worker and real-life crush, who doesn’t have any holiday plans and is somehow offering to help him out.

i have been derelict for too long, but no more! i’m so sorry that it took me so long, and i hope you enjoy this trope-packed fic, because i couldn’t decide on just one, and then it sort of ballooned!

Read it on [AO3] or below the cut.

***

“Shit.” Steve’s head thunks against his desk.

“Problem?”

He looks up to find Diana Prince, the newest legal consultant at their NGO standing in his office door. She’s intimidating and smart and beautiful and possibly also the kindest person he’s ever met, and even though they’re friendly, she’s the last person to whom he wants to admit what’s wrong. But she’s also looking at him with such genuine concern that he spills his guts anyways.

“The last time my friend Etta tried to set me up with someone, I told her I was already dating someone, and now she wants me to bring them on our annual holiday trip to one of our friend’s cabin.” Steve kneads the space between his eyebrows, trying to get rid of the tension headache that’s starting to form.

Diana tilts her head, confused. “That’s kind of her.”

“I’m not actually dating anyone,” Steve clarifies. “I just said it to get her off my back. And now I have to either say I lied—which will not go over well for obvious reasons—or say that I broke up with the person and get all sorts of ‘holiday pity’.”

Diana leans elegantly against his doorframe. “People go their separate ways all the time, no? Besides, maybe it’s a bit soon for a weekend away with friends.”

Steve winces. “It’s possible that I told her this almost six months ago and never corrected the record.”

“Ah,” says Diana, taking the liberty of moving into his office and sitting down across from him. “So it’s rather a large deception then.”

“I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand? It was just so nice to not have my friends nagging me about my dating life. They’re well intentioned but a little too insistent sometimes.”

“Okay, so telling them is out of the question,” Diana says, very seriously. And—uh-oh, she’s going into problem-solving mode. He’s absolutely mortified that his very capable and very attractive co-worker is taking time to talk with him about this when she’s a literal international human rights lawyer and university lecturer with plenty of other things to be doing. “Hmm. Isn’t that what Craigslist is for?”

“Ha,” says Steve. “I’m never going to be able to get someone to come with me over Christmas on such short notice.”

“Not everyone has plans on Christmas,” Diana argues.

“Yeah, I get that; I’m not even Christian,” says Steve. “But a lot of people still go home because it’s a long holiday.”

“I’m not Christian either and I don’t have any family here in the States. We exist,” Diana jokes.

“Want to be my fake date, then?” The words leave Steve’s mouth before his brain can catch up and tell him what a massively stupid idea that would be, to fake date his real crush, for lack of a better word.

“Yes, alright: if you can’t find someone on Craigslist, I’ll do it,” says Diana, and then before Steve can process: “Anyways, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. I just dropped by to give you a hard copy of my revisions. She hands him the legal brief, shoots him a quick smile, and saunters out of his office, apparently unaware of the dazed state she’s left him in.

I’ll do it? Is she serious? For a second, Steve’s mind runs away from him before he shuts it down. She was just being polite; he’s certain of it. There’s no way she wants to give up her days off to go to a cabin in the middle of nowhere with people she doesn’t even know.

Steve reluctantly writes up a quick wanted ad on Craigslist and hits post before he can overthink it. He can definitely do a fake date for the holidays, right? That’s something normal people do.

Three days later, he’s gotten a dozen responses to the Craigslist ad, but most of them are variants of either “is this some weird sex thing?” or “can you please post this story on reddit’s r/relationships with an update on how it went because i’m 2000 miles away but very invested in this”. None of them are a real live person that he can take on the trip to meet his friends.

His brain has also been playing Diana’s I’ll do it on repeat pretty much constantly, so on Tuesday evening, after most people have already gone home for the night, he steals himself and wanders down to Diana’s office. If she’s in, he’ll ask. If she’s gone, it’s a sign, and he won’t bring it up.

She’s still there, illuminated only by the glow of her computer and a small desk lamp—the overhead light is turned off and her coat is on, like maybe she was in the process of leaving and then went back to her desk to dash off one email that turned into several.

He taps on the doorframe.

“Steve!” she says, smiling when she sees him. “What a pleasant surprise! Have a seat, I’m just finishing something up. It’ll only be a moment.”

He smiles nervously and takes one of the chairs opposite her desk, patiently silent as she taps away at her computer.

Three minutes later, she folds her laptop closed and turns the weight of her attention to him.

“Thank you for being patient. What can I do for you?”

“I just—were you serious?”

“Hmm?”

“The other day—were you serious about being my fake date if I couldn’t find someone on Craigslist?”

“I—yes, I was.”

“Wait, really?”

She shrugs elegantly. “I have no holiday plans.”

“You’re sure.”

She tosses him an amused expression. “I am. It’ll be nice to meet some new people.”

“Right. Well. Can I, uh, buy you dinner or something while we go over the details?”

Diana considers him for a moment. “How does Thai takeout at my place sound?”

“Like a fantastic idea.”

On Friday, Steve is extremely antsy. He’s taken a half day, and he and Diana are driving up to Charlie’s cabin after her lecture lets out.

She’s in a good mood when he picks her up, and the ensuing discussion crosses a half a dozen different topics. He doesn’t think they’ve ever had a boring conversation, and they’re more than halfway there before Steve remembers that he wanted to run through the basics of their fake-dating mandate again.

“I’ve never really been much for PDA,” he says, “so they won’t be surprised if we’re not particularly demonstrative. A little hand-holding and casual touching here and there and we’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” replies Diana, amused rather than annoyed. “You mentioned this the other day.”

“Did I? I guess I’m just nervous.” He’s already feeling a little guilty about lying to his friends (again), and he’s suddenly wondering if he’s capable of pulling it off.

“They asked me to invite you—er, my significant other—to a dinner in October. I don’t think it’ll come up, but—”

“I spent a week of October in Europe, and have plenty of university functions to attend,” Diana reassures him. “Saying I was busy that night probably isn’t even a lie, and besides, that was months ago. Take a breath; this will be okay.”

“I’m just rethinking this,” huffs Steve.

“You’re welcome to tell them I’m just a friend that needed a place to stay for the holidays,” Diana offers calmly.

“No. No, I’m committed to the lie now.”

“Okay. Then let’s do this. I’m here for you, you know.”

“Yeah,” says Steve, glancing over at her in the passenger seat before turning his attention back to the road. “Thanks.”

They’re the last ones to arrive to the cabin, because everyone else was able to take the full day off, so they walk into a full house.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!” exclaims Etta, pulling Diana into a hug before they’ve barely gotten in the door.

“You must be Etta,” Diana says, once she’s been let go. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey, Etta,” Steve says, pulling her in for his own hug.

“Everyone else is in the living room.”

They make their way down the hall, towards the sound of all the voices.

“Steve!” yells Sameer from across the room when they round the corner. A cheer goes up—it’s possible that some of them have already had a glass or two of wine—and Steve pulls Diana forward to introduce her.

“Everyone, this is Diana. Diana, this is Napi, Charlie, Etta’s wife Adrienne, Sameer, and Sameer’s fiancée Noor.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you,” says Diana, moving forward to shake hands and give hugs, along with Steve.

“You’ll want to drop off your luggage in your room, I’m sure,” Etta declares forcefully, shooing them back out of the room once they’re done with the greetings.

“Alright, alright, we’re going,” acquiesces Steve.

“Well, dinner will be done shortly, and I’m sure you’re hungry. Best get settled in before you go into a food coma.”

“Stop making sense,” he snarks, but they all know he’s joking.

“Second door on the left!” calls Etta after him, as they traipse up the stairs. There’s a niggling in his brain about this room, because he’s been in it once and it’s—

“Shit,” says Steve under his breath upon entering the room, because it’s one of the rooms with a single queen bed instead of two twins.

“Is there something wrong with the room?” asks Diana, a step behind him. “I’m sure we can fix it, whatever it is.”

“No, it’s just—I didn’t even think about this,” says Steve, gesturing at the bed. “Usually when I come, I’m in a different room with Charlie or Napi.”

Diana surveys the space in front of them. “You mean the bed?” Her nose wrinkles. “Are you really that uncomfortable sharing?”

“I—no, of course I’m not. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Well then, that’s settled. I am not uncomfortable. Which side do you prefer?”

Of course it’s not a big deal. Right. He’s making too much out of this because he might—possibly—have feelings. But for Diana, it’s just two adults sharing a bed, which is perfectly natural. But now she’s looking at him expectantly, which makes him realize—“Uh, left, I guess.”

The way she smiles, he gets the distinct impression that his answer has pleased her, that he’s chosen correctly, if such a thing is possible. (He thinks, stupidly, that he would do quite a lot to chase that smile.)

Meanwhile, Diana drops her duffel on the right side of the bed.

“Do you mind if I change quickly before dinner?”

“Yeah, no, of course. I’ll just be downstairs.”

Steve heads back downstairs and pauses in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

He can definitely share a bed with Diana. They’re adults. It’s not strange, and it’s not romantic. It’s just two people sharing a sleeping space because there are not enough beds.

He reenters the living room to find Charlie and Sameer in the middle of an argument about who’s the better cross-country skier while Noor, Adrienne, and Etta chat over a cup of tea and Napi watches over several pots in the kitchen.

“The answer, of course, is neither of you. Noor is the best skier here.”

Charlie squawks indignantly, and Sameer laughs. “That she is.”

“Can someone set the table?” asks Napi. “Dinner is about to be ready.”

Steve, as the closest one to the kitchen, pulls out the plates and silverware and starts setting up the table, while the others slowly drift towards the dining area.

And then there’s a gentle pressure on his elbow. “Can I help with anything?” asks Diana, softly, and when he turns, he feels the air knocked out of him.

Diana is all comfort, in simple black leggings and a chunky winter sweater instead of her usual pristine business wear, but she’s all the more beautiful for the casualness. Her face, too, is wiped clean of standard makeup and her hair is down, and he realizes that she has freckles. They’re faint, just the slightest smattering over her nose and cheeks, but Steve is close enough to see them, and for a second he wants to touch them, trace them into constellations.

Then he realizes he’s staring and jumps a little, moving to rearrange the plate in front of him.

“You could, uh, fold the napkins, I guess? There isn’t really a whole lot to do.”

They work in tandem as the rest of the crew files in, loud and boisterous as they dish out their meals.

“So, Diana,” says Etta, once everyone is settled in their seats, “tell us all about yourself! Steve’s been so tight-lipped about you that I was starting to think you didn’t exist.”

Steve almost chokes on his wine, but Diana doesn’t so much as flinch, simply smiling at Etta and saying, “Well, I’m not sure what you’d like to know, but I’m originally from one of the Grecian islands and I completed my studies in the UK. Right now, I’m splitting my time between the US and the Netherlands.”

“Oh, what part of the Netherlands?” asks Noor. “Sameer and I both lived there, at different points!”

“Just the Hague, I’m afraid,” says Diana ruefully, because it’s not known for its charms.

“Diana’s on a prosecutorial team at the International Criminal Court,” Steve clarifies, which prompts a number of impressed looks all around the table.

“We’re in between cases right now,” Diana says, “and we’re only just starting to file some pre-trial motions for the next thing on our docket, so I took a position as a guest lecturer here in the States. A friend of mine convinced me to take the consulting position at the ARGUS Foundation since it’s not full-time.” When Diana pauses, she notices a number of raised eyebrows around the table. “I think the expression in English is ‘I wear a lot of hats’,” she jokes.

“She’s a wonder,” interjects Steve easily, and he doesn’t even have to work at the soft look that he gives her. (He’ll interrogate the fact that it’s just how he looks at her later, when he’s alone and can have a nice little panic about it.)

“I just like to have purpose,” says Diana, and then Noor asks her about her last case, and the conversation takes on a life of its own.

Diana, as he suspected, gets on well with his friends, fitting in as though she’s known them years instead of hours, and they migrate into the living room after dinner, talking and laughing into the late hours of the evening.

“They are all lovely,” Diana tells him the moment the door to their room has closed behind them.

“They’re okay,” says Steve, but his face is pulled up in a smile, and Diana just laughs. He’s spent all evening getting to look at her whenever he wants, and even though they’re alone, even though there’s no need for his eyes to keep finding her, he doesn’t want to pull them away.

“They’re all so interesting!” Diana exclaims. “Sameer and I talked about linguistics for a full half an hour, and Etta and Adrienne’s stories are incredible!”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah, Etta’s something else.”

They talk a little more as they get ready for bed, and finally there’s nothing more to do but turn out the light and get under the covers. Steve’s tired enough that he thinks he has a decent shot at falling asleep, but he feels a little awkward as they both shift carefully on their respective sides.

“Hey,” he whispers into the deepness of the silky black night. “Thank you again for being here.”

“It is my pleasure.”

He listens to Diana’s breathing quickly even out, and though it takes him a little longer, he too falls asleep without too much trouble, despite her nearness.

To his great relief, or maybe to his great disappointment, they wake up in almost the exact same positions that they fell asleep in, on completely opposite sides of the bed.

“Good morning,” says Diana softly, hair slightly mussed and eyes still a little heavy with sleep, and frankly Steve’s not sure how he’s going to make it through the rest of the trip, because he likes her so much and also doesn’t want to impose his feelings.

“Good morning. I hope you’re ready for another insane day.”

“Once I’ve had some coffee, absolutely.”

“Well then,” says Steve, “let’s get you some coffee.”

Coffee is followed by breakfast, which is chaotic because everyone is up at slightly different times and traditionally, they fend for themselves for breakfast which means in practice that half a dozen people end up doing things in the kitchen at the same time.

The rest of the day is no calmer, as they all pack themselves up and spill outside for a snowy hike that lasts most of the afternoon. Diana, Etta, and Napi establish themselves as the fastest hikers early on, and they sort of naturally split into two groups. The whole group meets back up at one of the lookout points, where the faster group has lingered to let the rest catch up.

Steve uses the viewpoint to check in with Diana. “You doing okay?”

When she turns to him, her cheeks are rosy with exertion, her breath is coming out in silvery puffs in the cold air, and her eyes are dancing. “Excellent, you?”

“Really good.” They take in the snowy view in front of them. “Hey, I didn’t mean to leave you on your own,” Steve says, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

Diana snorts. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I was the one that walked ahead of you. If I’d been bothered, I wouldn’t have split off with Napi and Etta.”

“Right, of course.” He feels a bit stupid; she’s never struck him as the type to do something she really didn’t want to.

“We should probably walk back together though. For appearances.” She winks at him, and before he can respond, Noor is at his elbow.

“Can I take a picture for you two?”

“That would be great,” says Diana, handing Noor her phone as she slips her arm around his waist.

Pictures are snapped, and then they’re headed back down the trail. Steve ends up so engrossed in his conversation with Diana that the rest of the group fades away, and on the last straightway after they’ve descended, Diana reaches out and casually links their hands. Even through their gloves, it’s a giddy feeling.

That night after dinner, Steve steps outside for a moment of respite from the noisiness of the cabin. He breathes deeply, and stares at the patch of sky not covered in clouds, picking out a familiar constellation.

“Diana’s wonderful.”

Steve looks up from where he was leaning against the balcony railing to find that Etta has joined him outside.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” Steve agrees.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable introducing us earlier,” says Etta so sincerely that Steve feels a squirming guilt welling up. “But if this was the pace you needed to go to be sure of your relationship, to make it solid and lasting, I’m glad you took the space to do so.”

“Right,” Steve echoes.

“Seriously, Steve,” says Etta, touching his arm, so that he’s almost forced to look at her. “You and Diana are so well-suited, and she’s good for you—I’ve never seen you like this.”

“What’s this?”

Etta contemplates him a moment. “You’re happy,” she says simply, and Steve rolls his eyes, because if Etta thinks just being in a relationship equates to—“but it’s not just that. You’re…still. Calm. You’ve usually got this frenetic, discontented energy, and with Diana it’s quieted.”

It makes Steve pause, but before he can say anything—refute her or maybe, heaven forbid, agree with her—Diana herself is bursting onto the balcony.

“There you are!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around him from the back, and fuck, maybe it is his instinct to relax in the split second before he remembers that this is all an act. “Charlie says we’re roasting marshmallows over the fire, and I’m told that you have the technique perfected,” she says, with all the exuberant glee of a child.

Steve pointedly ignores the knowing, indulgent look on Etta’s face as he turns in Diana’s arms to face her, a small but unquashable smile on his face. “That’s a classic holiday tradition for us—I was wondering when Charlie was going to break them out. Have you ever had a s’more?”

“No, but I’m looking forward to it!”

“Well, then we can’t let Sameer or Etta roast yours; they always burn them.”

“It’s meant to be eaten with a little char,” says Etta.

“Absolutely not!” Steve doesn’t have time to say any more, because Diana has laced her hand in his and his gently tugging him toward the interior.

“Right. This is an American classic and you’re gonna love it.”

After making her the perfect marshmallow—gold and toasty, and soft all the way through without being burned—the rest of the night is spent roasting increasingly silly things over the coals and drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate and eggnog that are optionally spiked, utterly warm and cozy.

“Tell me something about yourself,” requests Diana, when they’re tucked into bed later, still on their own sides but far closer together than they were the night before.

“Like what?”

“Something—well, not something secret, if you don’t want to. But something that most people probably don’t know.”

Steve considers her for a moment, shifting so that he’s facing her, the moon providing just enough light that he can see the contours of her face. “I wanted to be a pilot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be a fighter pilot.”

Diana grins. “I can see that. What stopped you?”

“I decided I wouldn’t really be helping people, and helping people is what I wanted to do. What about you?”

“What did I want to be?”

“No, just—anything.”

“Hmm,” says Diana. “My favorite childhood memories are those of my aunt, Antiope.”

“Was she the cool aunt who spoiled you rotten?”

“She was the aunt that got me up at six in the morning every day to train.”

“Wow, that’s neat, I guess,” Steve deadpans, and Diana laughs in the darkness, rolling onto her side so that she’s facing him, so that they’re almost nose to nose.

“She was also more indulgent than my mother, yes.”

“I think we have very different definitions of indulgent,” says Steve.

“Perhaps,” says Diana, and despite how late it is, they spend another hour or two trading secrets in the darkness before falling asleep. Steve learns, among other things, that she loves cherries more than any other fruit, that she’d rather take the metro than a cab any day of the week, that she played the harp for a while and misses playing music but not playing the instrument itself. When they finally drift off to sleep, it’s still facing each other, fingers inches apart.

Steve wakes up feeling incredibly comfortable and very cozy. It’s only when he stretches a little that he realizes that the warm weight against his chest is not his blanket, but Diana. During the night, they must have migrated into each other, because now that his brain is coming back online, Steve realizes that not only is Diana tucked into his chest, but their legs are twined together. His shifting causes her to stir a little, but only to nuzzle against him a little before settling.

This is fine; he’s not freaking out. Not about how they’re accidentally pressed together, or about how much he likes her, or about what any of this means. Not about lines blurring and becoming harder to make out, not about lying to his friends. He’s fine.

Taking a breath, he weighs his options. He can wait for Diana to wake up and pretend he’s still asleep, and let her figure out how to react, or he can try to extricate himself now. Although it might wake her up, and then it would be doubly awkward, and—

And he’s waited too long in deciding, because Diana stretches a little sleepily and then blinks her eyes open, looking up at him.

“Good morning,” she says, apparently unbothered by their position. It’s making him spiral in confusion, and want, because it would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her, but neither has she directly expressed interest in him romantically, so he’s not about to actually do it.

“Did you sleep well?” asks Diana, gently untangling herself and sitting up.

Now that Steve thinks about it, he realizes that he’s slept better than he has in ages.

“Yeah,” he affirms a little hoarsely. “You?”

“Very well.” He’s considering saying something else—anything else, maybe apologizing for how closely they slept or, alternatively, telling her he adores her—when she continues, “How do you think everyone would feel about quiche?”

“Quiche?”

“One of the few reliable things I can cook,” says Diana, “but I have a good recipe, and I’m quite certain we have everything I’d need.”

Steve blinks. “I think it’d go over well.”

“Perfect!” Diana slips out of bed, sliding across the room with more of her infectious energy as she gathers her clothing for the day.

By the time Steve gets downstairs post-shower, Diana’s got the crust rolled out and blind-baking and has a number of veggies sautéing.

“Oh, good, you’re here! Can you pass me the mushrooms?” she asks, and he obliges, then takes it upon himself to crumble the cheese for her.

“Do you cook a lot?” he asks, and then curses himself, glancing around to make sure they’re alone and that nobody heard what was clearly a question that he, by all rights, should know the answer to. Blessedly, the only other person up is Napi, and he’s out on the porch.

“Not if I can help it,” says Diana. “You?”

“I enjoy it,” says Steve.

“Enjoy what?” asks Sameer, who’s just come down the stairs.

“Passing me ingredients when I tell him to,” teases Diana, successfully covering up what may have been a slip-up, because Sameer just rolls his eyes.

“You two are ridiculous.”

“More like adorable,” says Etta, who has apparently also been summoned by the smell of brewing coffee. “By the way—how did you two start dating? I’ve been meaning to ask since I never heard the story from this one”—she gestures at Steve—“and I’m sure it’s equally adorable.”

Steve can’t believe they’ve come this far without being asked, and that they didn’t do a better job of anticipating this question. He’s about to bumble his way through a response, but Diana, who is now pouring the egg mixture into the pan, has it covered.

“It’s sweet to me because it is ours, but I think you’ll otherwise find it quite boring. My third day of work, I came to his office by accident, looking for another colleague, and we traded a couple of jokes. Two days later, a bunch of people from the office went out for drinks after work, and I ran into Steve again. We spent a lot of the evening chatting, and when we left for the evening, he walked me to my train, and as we were waiting on the platform, he asked me out. He was kind and funny and handsome; there was no reason not to say yes.”

For a moment, Steve feels like he’s been hit by a train, because that’s actually how they met. They did spend an evening chatting, and he did wait on the platform with her. The only bit that didn’t happen was the asking out, and now he wonders what might have happened if he had. Then he reminds himself that it’s all an act, and she’s supposed to be acting like she likes him. He’s getting reality confused with the little mirage they’ve created.

“—it is sweet though,” Etta is saying when he snaps back to attention, unsure of just how much he’s missed.

“Yes, Steve is very thoughtful,” says Diana fondly.

He doesn’t really get a chance to ask her about it, because soon everyone is crowded around the table for breakfast, and that quickly turns into a card game, where they get separated by a few seats. It all somehow blends into lunch, as people swap in and out, Sameer and Noor doing the cooking, this meal, with Adrienne flitting in and out to help as she puts up a few extra lights for tonight’s Christmas eve celebration. He tries not to think about it too much, because Diana looks like she’s having a good time, and he is too, and eventually he gets swept up in the game, focusing on counting trump and keeping track of tricks and arguing genially with Charlie about who may or may not be cheating.

“Steve.” Diana pulls him aside after lunch, tugging him into their room.

“What’s up?” She looks entirely too serious, and it worries him. Is this about their story? Is something wrong?

“First kisses are always a bit awkward,” she says bluntly.

It’s so out of the blue that Steve’s brain doesn’t even short-circuit. He just blinks. “Yeah, usually.”

“Well, I just saw Adrienne putting mistletoe up. Your friends are wonderful people, but if we don’t get caught under it naturally, they’ll make sure we do.”

She’s got his friends pegged; that’s absolutely how they operate.

“They’ll recognize something is off if we’ve never kissed. I think we need to practice.”

Now Steve’s brain short-circuits.

“Practice.”

“It’s the only way to make sure it’s not during an ambush.” Her eyes are wide and she’s very close, so close that one of them could erase the distance without even taking a step, but she’s paused, waiting.

Waiting to see if it’s okay, if she has his consent.

His thoughts flick back, inexplicably, to this morning. (Was it really just this morning that they woke up tangled together? It seems a week ago already.) Knowing what it’s like to kiss her will probably explode his brain, but not knowing is worse. He nods, just a fraction, words caught in his throat, and then she’s closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

Fireworks are for dramatic novels, but the world still shifts on its axis. It’s soft and slow, exploratory, but the pressure is somehow just right, and it consumes him. It’s everything he never let himself imagine it would be, and more. When she eventually pulls away—seconds, minutes, hours later, he’s not sure—he chases her lips for a moment before remembering himself, marshalling his reaction and pulling away in equal measure.

“Right, so. No mistletoe first kiss,” he manages, because seriously, what the fuck, he’s never had a first kiss feel that natural, that right.

“Mission accomplished,” says Diana faintly. “I think we’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Steve echoes, and he thinks he sees Diana’s gaze flick back to his lips, dark and heavy, but then there’s the pounding of feet on the stairs and shouts outside their room.

“Steve! Diana! Are you in for another round of cards before we start the movie marathon?”

Diana startles, and takes three steps back, smoothing down her hair, her shirt, before opening the door to find Adrienne there, looking at them expectantly.

“Yes, of course,” says Diana.

“Oh,” smirks Adrienne, giving them a once over. “I can come back.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll come down now; I want to get a cup of tea before we start up again. Steve?”

“I—yeah, a cup of tea would be great. Black tea—”

“—with a dash of honey, I know,” she says fondly, as if this is old news and not something she’s clearly picked up in the last day and a half.

“Thanks.”

When he collects himself and comes downstairs a few minutes later, he spots Diana across the room, head thrown back in laughter as she chats with Napi over the kettle.

She fits, he thinks. He’s seen her in professional settings, being diplomatic even when she doesn’t want to be, but here, she’s relaxed, and from everything she’s said, she likes his friends as much as they like her. Isn’t it sort of everyone’s dream that the person they like gets along with their friends?

He takes another second to try to untangle his thoughts before he gets ushered back into the fold and has to pretend that everything is uncomplicated.

Christmas day dawns bright and cold, and sees, for the second day in a row, Diana snuggled into Steve. Despite another meandering conversation in the dark—in which he absolutely chickened out of asking her about the backstory she created for them, or the kiss—and starting the night on different sides of the bed, they seem to have rolled together in their sleep, and if he didn’t wake up with an absolutely parched throat, Steve would’ve probably gone right back to sleep, enjoying the warmth. Instead, he extricates himself gently, and by the time he gets back to the room a few minutes later, Diana is up and dressed, dashing any plans he might’ve been entertaining for a bit of a lie-in.

As with most things on their holiday trips, the day is centered around food. There’s a huge brunch, and then a little foray outside—nothing like the hike the day before yesterday, just a little walk that turns into a snow angel contest—and then it’s back inside to start cooking Christmas dinner. It’s Etta and Charlie taking point, because, as Steve explains to Diana, the group rule for any and all holidays is that those who observe do the traditional cooking, and everybody else takes care of the clean-up.

At one point in the afternoon, a trivia game gets pulled out, and in a classic showdown of boys (Steve, Sameer, Napi) vs. girls (Diana, Noor, Adrienne), the ladies trounce them thoroughly. There’re plenty of mimosas and someone starts a Christmas playlist, and honestly, Steve can’t think of a better Christmas in a long, long time.

They don’t really exchange ‘real’ gifts, but they do have a long-standing tradition of an intense game of White Elephant, which happens after dinner.

No less than 4 items (a succulent in a corgi-shaped pot, a coffee mug with some gratuitously dirty language on it, a pair of wool socks with Munch’s The Scream emblazoned on them, and an umbrella patterned with cartoon gentleman amongst the raindrops so that it’s always raining men) get stolen so many times that they hit the limit. (Diana walks away the proud owner of the socks, thanks to a strategic steal by Steve, which sets her up to steal them for the last time.)

The mood is so light that Steve has almost forgotten that this isn’t quite real, that he’s lying to his friends and sort of lying to Diana, too. That comes crashing down when they bump into each other coming back into the living room.

See, Steve and Diana had managed to casually avoid the newly strung up mistletoe all of Christmas Eve and most of Christmas day—at least together, that is; at one point Steve finds himself under the mistletoe with Sameer, and they both dramatically grip each other for a theatre kiss—by sheer luck, but their luck runs out after White Elephant. Steve has gone into the kitchen to deposit an empty tray of food, and Diana is on her way back from the bathroom, and they collide in the doorframe.

Instinctively, Steve puts a hand out, touching the small of her back lightly to anchor himself and steady her. It’s just a casual touch, but he lingers a second too long.

“Oooh, look! Steve and Diana are under the mistletoe!” sings Adrienne, pointing from across the room.

Steve glances up automatically, as though maybe Adrienne might be wrong, even though he knows damn well that there’s mistletoe hanging there.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” chants Etta, clearly a little tipsy, and the rest of his asshole friends join in the chant.

Steve’s eyes flick to Diana’s, and she raises an eyebrow, inclines her head almost imperceptibly. It’s permission, so he leans in and gives her a quick kiss, their lips barely touching. He’s not sure he can handle more in front of his friends right now, not with all of the emotions pooling in his stomach.

“Boo!” yells Charlie. “You and Sameer had a better kiss than that!”

There’s general clamoring of assent, and Diana reaches out and cups a hand to his cheek, to a great whoop from someone in their little peanut gallery. “If you are uncomfortable, we do not have to do this,” Diana murmurs, low and close enough that only he can hear it.

The real problem is that Steve wants little more than to kiss her again, but he feels guilty about it.

“It’s okay.”

She searches his eyes for a moment, and then closes the rest of the distance, kissing him properly. He sinks into it, and relishes in the little gasp he elicits when he deepens the kiss just a little. It’s the catcalling that splits them apart, and he’s sure he looks a little shell-shocked.

“That’s a kiss!” hollers Adrienne.

To his surprise, Diana doesn’t immediately move away from him, but stays tucked into his side, blushing a little.

“You’re all just a little too invested in our love life,” she admonishes lightly, but the point is missed as Etta launches into a bit of a ramble about how Steve introduced her to Adrienne by accident and how she’s been looking to return the favor, but that she’s glad Diana is here.

Steve watches Diana go a bit pink again, and wants to pull her aside, try to clear some things up, but then there’s another round of mulled wine, and they settle in for one last Christmas movie before the day ends.

Diana goes to bed before Steve does, while he stays back to have another round with Charlie, and by the time he realizes that he wanted to talk to her alone, she’s fast asleep.

The morning of the twenty-sixth is chaotic from the start; Diana’s up and out of bed before Steve wakes up, and then everyone is scrambling to pack up before they all drive back to the city. This time, Diana and Steve have got Sameer and Noor with them, because they came with Napi, who’s leaving directly to visit some extended family, and Etta and Adrienne don’t have enough room because they’re Charlie’s ride. It’s a pleasant ride, and Noor, Sameer, and Diana spend a solid half hour swapping in and out of Arabic to tease Steve, who does speak three languages himself, but doesn’t count darija as one of them.

They drop Noor and Sameer off with promises of seeing them at Etta’s party on New Year’s Eve, at the very latest, and suddenly they’re alone again.

“Thank you again for doing this,” says Steve. “You were the best fake date I could’ve asked for.”

“It was my pleasure,” says Diana. “I had a really good time, and a fun holiday.”

“And you really don’t mind putting in an appearance at the New Year’s Eve party?”

“Not at all. I’m actually looking forward to it.”

“Good; I think everyone is looking forward to having you there.”

They’re quiet as they pull up to Diana’s building.

Before Diana can move to get out of the car, Steve takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.” Her wide eyes are trained on him, and he almost loses his nerve.

But it’s now or never; he has to know if this is just him or if she feels something too. “If I had asked you out, that night on the platform, would you have said yes?” It feels like the safest version of the question he wants to ask.

Diana doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

It knocks the wind out of him and is simultaneously one of the best things he’s ever heard, because maybe that means there’s still time to make a proper go of it.

“Do you—”

He’s cut off by Diana leaning forward and kissing him sweetly, and he instinctively pulls her a little closer, deepens the kiss without consciously thinking about it.

“Sorry, I interrupted you,” says Diana, biting back a smile when they eventually pull apart, breathless. It makes Steve laugh, and he can’t fight the grin that’s also building. There’s no one around to fool, no one around even to prepare for; this is just them.

“Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?” Steve asks, bubbling with a profound sort of happiness. “For a real date this time?”

“I would love that,” says Diana, grinning. “No tricks, no fake backstories. Just us.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Just give me a couple of hours to shower and change and answer a couple of emails?” Diana says.

“How does seven sound? I’ll cook.”

“I can’t wait.”

He watches her go, almost floating from how giddy he feels. As he drives home, he mentally goes over what he’ll need to get for the meal he wants to make. Truly, it was the best fake date ever; he might, he thinks, even consider posting the story of it to the r/relationships thread like one of the Craigslist messages asked, because it’s so wonderfully peculiar.

“Right on time!” says Steve with a grin when Diana knocks on his door that evening for their date.

His smile falls when he notices her face, tired and serious, despite how light it had been only hours ago.

“Steve, I have to go,�� she says without preamble.

“What?”

“I’m flying back to the Netherlands tonight.” What? That can’t be right; she’s not due back for several months, and even that’s only a trip. Steve’s brain lags a second and then realizes she’s still talking, dark eyes all apologies. “—straight to the airport from here, actually. I just came by to say goodbye. It seemed like the sort of thing that should be done in person.”

“But what—”

“You know who Patrick Morgan is, yes?”

Of course he knows who Patrick Morgan is; he’s a war criminal who was only caught and extradited recently. It made waves when jurisdiction was given over to the ICC, at least among the relevant international communities.

“The war criminal?” he asks, just to confirm.

Diana nods. “That’s the one. Look, I’m not really meant to be talking about my cases, but I’m on the prosecutorial team and his lawyers are good. They’re trying to file a pre-trial motion that would—well, let’s just say it would be bad if the judge ruled in their favor. We’re scrambling and I’m needed back at the office, in person.”

“Shit.” There’s nothing else to say, really. She’s the one who can make sure Patrick Morgan doesn’t hurt anyone else, and that’s that.

“It’s awful timing,” whispers Diana, and there’s true regret in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. You’re doing what has to be done.”

“I wish it didn’t,” says Diana. “I wanted to—I don’t know, go on a proper date and go to your friends’ New Year’s party with you, and this has just—it’s mucked it all up, hasn’t it?”

“An understatement,” says Steve, laughing wetly. Maybe—

“I have to call the ARGUS Foundation from the car, get everything squared away in regards to my commitments there. Gods, this is such a nightmare.” Diana’s pacing now, and Steve can see all their possibilities slipping away, now that she’s returning to the Netherlands. It’s not the most important thing, this casualty of what could have been, but it still breaks a little piece of Steve’s heart all the same.

“I wish we had more time,” says Steve, a little bittersweet, because there’s not much else to say. Diana sends him a sad smile and nods.

“I really have to go. I might even miss my flight as it is.”

“Right, of course.”

She looks at him hesitantly for a moment, like she’s going to say something more, and then pulls him into a hug. As she pulls back, she kisses him softly. It feels like goodbye more than any words could.

Then her phone rings, and she looks at him apologetically one more time, a quick, “I’m sorry,” before taking her leave and answering it. He hears her frustrated Dutch echoing down the hall as she walks away.

After she leaves, he feels a little aimless, and a little numb. It doesn’t quite sink in that Diana is gone, but he does think, absently, that something bad was bound to happen, because nothing catastrophic happened over the holidays—no real fights, no disastrous weather; it all went too smoothly.

The next few days are a slog: he’s back in the office, technically, but everything has slowed down substantially in between the holidays, just enough to not really keep him occupied.

It scares him a little how much he misses Diana. They were sort-of friends before the fake-dating charade, more friendly-coworkers than anything, but he got used to her being a part of his daily life absurdly quickly and is having a hard time adjusting back. They could have been something spectacular, he knows, if circumstances hadn’t made it impossible.

She texts him when she lands, and he’s glad to know she’s made it safely, but it ignites a fresh wave of ache such that he’s almost glad she doesn’t answer his text back, or text again. He ends up ignoring his phone, mostly, trying to distract himself from thinking about what wasn’t meant to be. (It’s bad luck with fate: if they’d had more time, if they were something real, he might consider moving, but it’s too soon, too early, even if he thinks he might already love her.)

On New Year’s Eve, he spends most of the day cooking, Netflix on in the background, whiling away time before the party Etta and Adrienne are throwing.

“Where’s Diana?” asks Etta, when she opens the door and finds Steve there, alone, carrying three tiers of Tupperware and a bottle of champagne, because of course she does. All his friends adore Diana too.

“She had to fly back to the Netherlands for a case,” says Steve morosely, unable to say anymore because he might choke up, and crying is fine but not during a New Year’s Eve party.

“Oh, what a shame she’ll miss New Year’s! When is she coming back?”

The fresh, stricken look on Steve’s face tells Etta everything she needs to know. “Oh, luv, I’m so sorry. I know long distance isn’t easy.”

It’s the perfect excuse presenting itself, really. In a month, Steve can say that the distance was too much, and Etta will understand, and that will be that. He’ll be out of this lie, too, with no one the wiser that it started as a fake thing. But right now, Steve is still mourning the fact that it never got to be anything real in the first place.

“It is what it is,” says Steve, trying for a smile.

“Well,” says Etta, also going for something resembling cheery. “We’ve got plenty of alcohol and a place for you to crash tonight, if you want it.”

“Thanks, Etta.”

He whiles away the night nursing a glass of wine and floating amongst friends and acquaintances, trying to enjoy the merriment. Etta, bless her, must spread the word that Diana had to leave for work, because only Noor asks after her, right after he gets inside. After that, he doesn’t have to answer any further questions, and instead focuses on the laughter and brightness radiating from his friends.

At a few minutes to midnight, he slips off to a quiet corner, not quite ready to face the rowdy, kissing couples.

Somewhere behind him, the apartment door slams, and there’s something of a commotion, but he doesn’t bother to investigate until—

“Did I make it in time?” asks a breathless voice.

Steve turns, and there, standing in front of him, a vision in a bright red coat, is Diana.

“But how—?” She’s meant to be in Europe, but she’s very much not. She’s here.

She’s here.

“We finished a little early and I got the first flight out. I took a cab from the airport to get here as fast as I could.”

“You hate cabs,” says Steve helplessly, fixating on something that’s very much not the point because it’s one of the many strange things they talked about, and because it’s somehow easier to focus on than any other part of it.

“I wanted to be here.” Her eyes are twinkling, and Steve can’t quite believe she’s here, on New Year’s Eve, and—shit.

“But what about the case?”

“We got the motion thrown out,” she exclaims, delight lacing her words. “We’re proceeding as scheduled. I’ll have to go back for a bit starting in May, but—”

That phrasing catches Steve’s attention. “Wait, you’re not moving back to the Netherlands permanently?”

“What?” asks Diana, looking genuinely perplexed. “No! It was just a business trip, inconveniently timed. I was never moving back. Did you think—”

“I thought—” says Steve, at the exact same time.

There’s a look of recognition on Diana’s face, as if she’s doing the maths, going back over the conversations they had once more in her head. She bites her lip, shakes her head. Laughs.

“We are both a bit stupid, I think,” she says. “I was never going to be gone more than a week or two, but I suppose I didn’t make that clear enough. I thought it was just bad timing, since we were starting something, but you—”

Steve shakes his head, incredulous. “I thought I might never see you again, but you’re really here.”

Diana reaches out and ever so softly touches his cheek. “Yes. So, did I miss the countdown?”

Steve stops fighting the smile that’s building. “Nope. And you know, they say whatever you’re doing at midnight you’ll be doing for the rest of the year.”

“Do they? You’d best choose wisely, then.”

“I’ve got an idea.” The countdown hasn’t started yet, but he leans in slowly anyways, because he figures they’ve wasted enough time. She meets his lips eagerly, and in the background, Steve can hear Etta’s whoop of excitement, but really, the only thing that matters is Diana, and the feel of her lips underneath his.

It’s just as earth-shaking as it was the first few times, but they break apart momentarily as the countdown actually begins from the other room. When midnight hits, they kiss again, a little shorter this time, their smiles too wide to make it a proper kiss.

“Happy New Year, Steve,” whispers Diana, forehead pressed to his.

“Happy New Year,” he echoes. An endless plurality of shifting possibilities stretch before them, elastic and hopeful, and very real once more. From the other room, the chords of a piano start, a telltale sign that Charlie has started his traditional rendition of Auld Lang Syne.

“You know, eventually people are going to realize our anniversary isn’t in July.”

That elicits another giddy laugh, because somehow, he’s gotten lucky enough that this is his reality. “Yeah, but that’s a pretty good problem to have, all things considered. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“No,” says Diana thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t either.”

***

#misha-winchester #wondertrevsecretsanta #wondertrevsecretsanta2020 #wondertrev #diana prince #steve trevor #userpine

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lovemesomesurveys · 6 years ago

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A few basics. Name: Stephanie. Age: 29. Location: California. Birthday: July 28th. Okay. Now let’s get to the randomness….. Have you ever wished you could start life over? Hm. I mean, if I could back before my accident at just 7 months old and make it so it didn’t happen that would obviously be the best thing because a lot of my health problems stem from that. I wouldn’t be dealing with a lot of what I’m dealing with now. My life would be completely different. I just always wonder then what effect that would have on me as a person. What would I be like if that never happened? It’s interesting to think about.

…or at least go back in time? Yeah, I was just thinking as I was answering the previous question that I don’t think I’d want to go through life all over again up until this point. Like through school and everything again. I think I’d rather just go back in time and prevent that accident from happening. I just still wonder what effect that would have on my life because obviously doing that would change everything. When did you last eat pizza? Last weekend, I think. Do you prefer to hear the painful truth or a beautiful lie? I mean... if it’s not beneficial or useful to me in anyway then I’d really rather not know. Like if the lie doesn’t hurt me in any way. Some things I would need to know, whether it’s what I want to hear or not. How many exes do you have? One, technically, but I count what Joseph and I had as well. Whatever that was. Have you ever known a pathological or habitual liar? I don’t believe so. Do you enjoy writing? I used to. If so, do you prefer writing lyrics, poetry, stories or something else? I liked writing short stories when I was younger. Are you angry right now? No. Have you ever punched a wall? I wouldn’t recommend it. I have not. Have you ever lived in a motel/hotel? No, Do you think you would enjoy running your own business? Absolutely not. I can’t handle that kind of responsibility. Sounds really stressful and overwhelming. What’s the average rent for a 1 bedroom apartment in your area? Some are the same, if not more, than what we pay for our 2 bedroom house. Do you think rentals are too expensive where you live? Trying to buy or rent a house right now is really expensive. The prices have gone up. Have you ever changed a car’s alternator? Nope. I know nothing about cars. Do you have Netflix? Yes. What about Hulu Plus? I think my brother does, and I could use his if I wanted to. Do you have an Xbox Live gold membership? Nope. Would you rather master Guitar Hero or a real guitar? A real guitar. Have you ever used an electric drill? Yes. Do you know anyone who’s had brain surgery? No. Do you like playing FPS (First Person Shooter) video games? No. Have you ever heard of, the band, Porcupine Tree? Nope. Would you rather wear boots or sandals? Boots. I don’t wear sandals. Have you ever rescued a lost dog? No. Have you ever adopted a dog from a shelter? Yes. Have you ever cleaned a cat litter box? Nope. Have you ever used a machete? Uh, no. What’s the last gift you gave to someone? Christmas presents. What’s the last gift you received? For Valentine’s Day my mom got me a a giraffe stuffed animal and a dog stuffed animal called a “Squishmallow” which as you may have guessed, is super squishy and soft. When was the last time you rode a bicycle? Never. Do 2 wrongs ever make a right? The saying goes that 2 wrongs don’t make a right. Are you a vengeful person at all? Nah. Do you have a good memory or do you forget things often? I think I have a pretty good memory. Do you know anyone who suffers from chronic fatigue? Yes. Have you ever felt like you “lost yourself”? I’ve felt that way for awhile now. Do you judge people based on their weight? I feel like they do because I’m so thin. Do you know anyone who’s hardworking but still struggles to make ends meet? Yes. What do you think is more harmful? Cigarettes or Marijuana? Cigarettes, definitely. No competition. Is your air conditioner on? No, but my ceiling fan is. Is your heater on? No. Do you enjoy going on walks? No. Do you like having picnics? I’ve never had one. Have you ever had a panic/anxiety attack? I’m quite familiar with them. Have you ever dated a co-worker? Do you still buy CDs or do you just download music? I just use Spotify. Do you like iPod/song shuffle surveys? No. Do you suffer from social anxiety? I do. Are you more introverted or extroverted? Introverted. Do you enjoy organizing things? I don’t know if I’d say I enjoy it, necessarily. Have you ever watched “Mystery Science Theater 3000”? Nope. Do you know anyone who plays Tuba? No. If you had to get a tattoo of someone’s name, who’s name would you choose? I really wouldn’t want to. Have you ever been to Catalina Island? No. Would you rather swim with dolphins or sharks? Neither. Do you know how to change a vacuum belt? Nope. Have you ever given a business a bad online review? “ive never given a business review, period” <<<< Same. Do you know anyone who used to be a stripper (that you know of)? Not personally, but a YouTuber that I’ve watched for years used to be. Do you know anyone who’s a hoarder? Yes. Do you know who Maynard James Keenan is? I do not. Do you take responsibility for your actions or tend to make excuses? I take responsibility. I’m always quick to blame myself. Have you ever used the shower at a gym? No. Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship? I’ve kind of felt that way in a friendship. Do you believe that “love is blind”? Sometimes. What’s the furthest distance you’ve ridden a bicycle? Guesstimate if needed? Never have. Do you rate every survey you fill out, here on bzoink? I don’t use Bzoink. Do you know anyone who gets way too angry when playing video games? Nah. Do YOU get too angry when playing video games? Nope. Do you like to sing karaoke? Only if I’m at home, ha. I would never do it publicly. Do you know what micro-expressions are? Yes. If so, do you have a talent for seeing/reading them? I think I’m generally pretty good at it. Have you ever had insomnia? I do. What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been awake? Like over 30 hours. Have you ever been in denial? Yes. Have you ever been in The Nile? Nope. Have you recently used a nail file? No, but I often use nail clippers. I’m forever picking at whatever little nail their might be, as well as hang nails and my cuticles. :/ Do you know anyone named Kyle? No, but I had a best friend in middle school named Kyle who I also had a huge crush on. Is it annoying that I started rhyming my questions? I didn’t even notice until you mentioned it. Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve run out of ideas. What time is it now? 12:25PM.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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fanficwriter013 · 7 years ago

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Hungover - Part 1

Pairing: Bruce Banner x Reader

Summary: Reader is a scientist that comes to work for G-Tech, and is tasked with fixing the Bruce slash Hulk divide. Can it be done?

Word Count: 2125

Warnings: Slight AU, set sometime after Avengers Age of Ultron. Nothing really. Oh a cliffhanger.

Author’s Note: Done for the fabulous’s @anaboo96 ‘s 1k writing challenge. Congrats, boo.

Parts: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /

You never dreamed that you would meet the Avengers. You were just a neuroscientist, working in a small lab in the middle of next to nowhere. You also never dreamed that G-tech, the lab run by Bruce Banner funded by Tony Stark would try and recruit you. It was an opportunity that you just couldn't turn down.

That's how you found yourself in the lobby of the Avengers Tower. Where security was putting you through the ringer before they'd let you into the building. As if they hadn't already done a series of intensive interviews even though they had approached you. You weren't quite sure but you thought someone was watching you. You could feel the heavy gaze, but when you tried to pinpoint the source there were no obvious options. You did your best to shake it off as security took your fingerprints, photocopies of your license and other things.

When the security guard was through with you, they looked behind you gesturing to someone. A tall, professional looking redhead came over. She gave you a smile, before starting for the elevators.

“I’m Virginia Potts, but you can call me Pepper. Let me take you to the lab, and we can get you started.” She said, as the elevator doors closed and it started to move. But she hadn't touched any buttons, and in fact, when you looked for floor buttons there weren't any. She must have caught your questioning stare because she chuckled.

“The whole building is run by Mister Stark’s AI FRIDAY. She'll take you where you need to go.” Pepper said as the elevator came to a stop. She's moving the second the doors are open.

“This is where G-tech is lives. Everything you need will be on this floor.” She says as she walks down the hall. You're a little awestruck as you look through the windows into specular little labs. Each better than the last, and with more equipment than you'd had at your old job.

“Each one of you gets your own projects and a separate space. There are weekly meetings, as a group and one on one to discuss progress and the other fine details.” Pepper says as she pushes open a door and gestures you inside.

“And this would be your lab.” She says as you take in the room. You've got all the equipment your little heart could ever desire for the projects that you had been working on. You could only imagine the kinds of projects you could undertake now with your new fancy lab.

“For today, you're just going to be getting yourself acquainted with the lab. Maybe reorganize it if you need a different layout. Doctor Banner will be in later to introduce himself properly and give you your assignments.” Pepper says, gesturing around the room.

“Welcome to G-Tech, and ask for FRIDAY if you need anything.” She says as she saunters out of the room. No doubt that she has other important things to do today.

For a while, you just kind of sit and stare at the room. Trying to wrap your head around the fact that all this is yours. You actually have to place your hand down on the glass top workbench to anchor yourself.

“Biometric scan recognized. Welcome (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” It's an Irish woman's voice speaking in a cool, even tone. The bench makes a soft, almost soothing, series of beeps as the glass displays some sort of computer screen.

You read over the display, tapping on a file that had been labeled with the title of your research project. All of your research scatters out along the bench in front of your eyes, the MRIs and other assorted scans you had taken, pop up floating over the table in hologram form. You reach out to touch it, and it spins in your hand.

“Little overwhelming, isn't it?” A voice asks from the doorway, you turn to see Dr. Banner leaning against the wall just inside your lab. You nod, not sure if you could trust your voice not to sound star struck in the moment.

“Tony goes a little overboard. It's all done with love. Still took me three months to get used to my own lab. And then having a staff, that was even longer.” He says, stepping closer towards you and offering his hand.

“Bruce Banner, nice to officially meet you.” He says, and you take his hand and shake it.

“It's nice to officially meet you too, Doctor Banner.” You say, and he steps back tapping the scan closest to him and it moves through the different views.

“Please call me Bruce. Everyone else does. We're very informal here.” He says, stopping the scan at a certain view and spinning it.

“Your research has promise for some pretty selfish reasons. Long story short, I think there is a way within your research to reverse my.” He waves his hand around his head. “Predicament. I've loaded my own brain scans into your station. That's your primary project, but you'll get other projects as I see fit, and that fit your particular skill set.” Bruce says, and you try your best not to react. You're actually quite curious about what his brain would look like with the presence of Hulk, and if that would have affected any of his brain tomography.

“Doctor Banner, if I require follow up scans or blood tests should I use FRIDAY to order them, or.” You trail off, not sure of what the boundaries are. He shakes his head.

“No need, I'll be keeping a close eye on this case. Anything you need you ask me directly. And it's alright to call me Bruce, really. But if you're uncomfortable with that.” It's his turn to trail off. You give him a smile, as he turns to leave.

“Welcome and enjoy your first day.” He says as he heads out of the room. You look down at your benchtop, closing out your research to find a file labeled “B. Banner.” You tap it and quickly get lost in Bruce's brain.

You're vaguely aware of the passing of time, but you have a habit of becoming immersed in your work. Your old coworkers would see how many things they could stack around your workstation, or actually throw them at you before you noticed. The record had been 6 mugs, and three paper airplanes thrown at you.

It's not until there's a loud, pounding knock at the door do you fully come back. You turn to see Bruce standing in the doorway, with one Tony Stark behind him with his head in his phone.

“Do you know what time it is?” Bruce asks, and you shake your head. “It's a little after 6, we don't really have regular hours here. But FRIDAY says you haven't left the lab all day.” His tone has an edge to it like he is torn between being disappointed and impressed.

“Sorry, I just get so caught up in the work. Everything else just falls away.” You say, as your stomach growls loudly. So loud that it makes Tony look up from his phone. He scrutinizes you for a moment before going back to his screen.

“We were just heading out for our weekly Shawarma if you wanted to come with us,” Bruce says, and Tony’s finger pause over his screen for just a moment. You take that as an indicator that you're not welcome.

“Thank you for the offer, Doctor Banner. But I politely decline. I'll see you tomorrow.” You say as you turn back to the models scattered about. You want to finish typing out a few more notes before leaving.

“Don't stay too much longer, and there is a cafeteria in the building. For those days when you don't want to leave the building.” Bruce says, and you give a nod.

“Thank you, Doctor Banner. I'll keep it in mind.” You say, and for a split second, you think you see Tony smirk. Bruce gives you a warm smile before the two of them leave.

You find yourself lost again in your notes and analysis. It's only the preliminary stages but there's so much that you can already see. The possibility of what you're supposed to be doing excites you. The applications of it for the future are almost endless.

You're rather abruptly brought back to the real world when you benchtop turns off, and the room goes dark. You look up and survey the room before there's a chuckle at the door.

“Lab automatically turns off at 9. I did warn you not to stay much longer.” Bruce says, and your groan.

“I was this close to having your brain fully mapped out. That's the first step to this project. And then the real fun can begin. You were bound to find out eventually if you didn't already know. I work pretty hard, tend to lose the world around me.” You say, moving to gather your things.

“I appreciate your tenacity. Especially because of what I'm asking here,” Bruce says, and you turn to look at him.

“You don't have to explain yourself, I work for you. But just a quick warning. These scans are more revealing than a lot of people realize.” You say, sweeping your hand back to your bench.

“I'm aware of the risks of asking you to look at this given your specialty,” Bruce says, as you shrug on your backpack and move out into the hallway.

“Well feel free to ask those questions that you think would invade my privacy. Just to even the playing field.” You tell him, making your way down the hallway. For a split second, you think you can see a shade of green in his eyes as a mass of emotions quickly waver over his face.

“We do extensive background checks. So chances are, I probably know a lot more than I should already. But I'll keep it in mind. Good night, (Y/N).” Bruce says, shifting his body weight a little uncomfortably, almost in a squirrelly manner. You give him a soft smile.

“Good night, Doctor Banner. I'll see you tomorrow.” You call over your shoulder as you get into the waiting elevator.

This becomes a pattern between the two of you. A routine that you can count on. You start work ridiculously early and stay until the lab turns itself off. Bruce would be there to walk you out, and he'd also taken it upon himself to make sure that you ate at least something small sometime around lunch.

You were making phenomenal progress towards a potential cure, or if not a cure a solution for what Bruce considered to be a problem.

“You know, your brain is different from the other brains that I've looked at that have been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. Like this part here normally has diminished functions.” You were mostly musing aloud to yourself. Certain parts of the scans weren't adding up to you. It wasn't a cut and dry case here.

“Do you think it has something to do with the gamma radiation or do you think that's all him?” Bruce asks, flipping the model open above your benchtop. You shake your head.

“I'm not positive what it means. But I have an inkling. I'd like to get a functional MRI. See what happens.” You say, deciding that asking for scans of his brain when he's physically the Hulk was too much for one day.

“Have FRIDAY set it up,” Bruce says, he sounds almost disappointed. Like he thought you would have been able to cure him by now. But as you see it, with the brain scans and the minor details you'd been able to extrapolate and extract from the man himself. His big green other half wasn't a problem. And you thought that maybe, just maybe, the second Bruce could learn to accept himself the way he was that it'd be able to put his mind at ease. That maybe Bruce's hostility towards his other side was causing some of the issues.

“I have a meeting with Tony to go over his project. Don't forget that the world exists.” Bruce says, and you give him a nod before losing yourself back to the work.

The next thing you're aware of is the lab shutting off, but it feels too early. You look around and realize that there's flashing red lights, and a siren blaring.

“Code Green. Repeat, we have a Code Green.” FRIDAY says, “please shelter in place. Code Green in sector 34.” She finishes out, sector 34 is this lab floor. That means Hulk is here. You get up from the bench, determined to go meet the Hulk.

Part 2

#anaboo1kwritingchallenge #avengers #the avengers #bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #hulk

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kennethherrerablog · 5 years ago

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45 Fun Inexpensive Hobbies to Try this Year

What are some of the best fun inexpensive hobbies out there right now that won’t break the wallet.

I get it: hobbies can be expensive. A quick Google search for hobbies will pull up things like ballroom dancing, auto racing, parachuting, boating, aviation, scuba diving and rock climbing.

The one thing all of these things have in common: they are expensive.

But what about other hobbies that aren’t going to break the bank each month?

Best Fun Inexpensive Hobbies Right Now

This list is for you. Yes, there are hobbies out there that aren’t going to cost you an arm and a leg. Actually, we found some fun little hobbies that actually help you make money!

In fact, this very blog you are reading right now started as an online hobby for me before turning into a blogging business. With that said, let’s start off with fun inexpensive online hobbies.

Online Hobbies

We start with online hobbies since you’re actually online right now. These are hobbies you can start today from the same device you are reading this right now.

1. Start a Blog

Since my hobby was and still is blogging, I’m going to open up with blogging to start.

Do you happen to love writing? If so, wouldn’t it be cool to start your own blog where you are free to write about whatever you want and put it out there for the world to see?

Here’s the secret to blogging as a hobby: write about whatever makes you happy.

Your mind is swirling with ideas and things you want to say, so say them through a blog.

Do you love being a mom? Then blog about it.

Do you love woodworking? Then you should blog about it.

Do you love coaching your kid’s sports? Then start a blog about it.

Or, do you love something no one has ever heard of? Then yes, you should definitely blog about that as well.

If you are ready (and I hope you are) to start you very own blog, I have personally put together a step-by-step guide so you can easily get started writing today for about $5 per month. I even included screenshots of the process to walk you through it step-by-step so you don’t have to worry about any of the tech issues.

In fact, if you can post something to social media or even ask Siri to call Grandma, then you can definitely start a blog.

Okay, I’m ready to start my blog now.

2. Fill Out Online Surveys

There are dozens of these sites popping up that claim to pay you money for taking surveys online. Some of them are sketchy, however some of them are legitimate and will actually pay you in cash via PayPal or in gift cards. You can see our full review of all the different survey sites we have researched here Best Online Surveys right now.

Survey Junkie has been around since 2005 and is the most trusted in the survey industry with a Trustpilot Rating of 4.4/5.

If you’re going to spend your time on a free hobby, start out with Survey Junkie and they will send you cash to your PayPal, Amazon or Target gift card for taking surveys on your time!

3. Buy and Re-sell Things Online

There are so many re-selling websites to choose from these days, which can help you get the best prices for your “treasures”. OfferuUp, eBay, Craigslist, Facebook buy/sell/trade groups, Facebook Marketplace and Poshmark more are just a few that I’ve used to sell stuff in the past.

We have a full list of the 21 best apps to sell stuff online here.

4. Listen to a New Podcast

There are podcasts about every topic under the sun. Surely you can find one that interests you.

You can start listening to the Money Peach Podcast in your car, at the gym, or on the go right here.

5. Watch Cat Videos

There are some pretty funny cat videos on YouTube that can keep you entertained for hours. (Or maybe that’s just me?)

Let the record show that Peach does NOT watch cat videos on YouTube.

6. Play Free Games Online

You may be surprised to learn that there are health benefits to be had from playing video games. There are so many websites where you can play games online and there are tons of different kinds of games to choose from too. There are even some sites that will actually pay you to play their online games.

Financial Hobbies

What’s better than making money? How about a hobby that actually pays from extra pocket money all the way to full-time income.

7. Become a landlord

You can start renting out a portion of your house on a site like Airbnb. If you find out you like being a landlord, you could always expand into owning rental properties.

8. Investing

Learning about investing and then actually doing it are two things that could almost be separate hobbies in and of themselves. Investing is a smart hobby to take up once you have a little extra income to put toward your investments. If you are already there and want to get started, here is our updated investing for beginners guide..

9. Thrift Shopping and Garage Sale-ing

When I lived in a bigger community I loved going to thrift stores and garage sales on the weekend. This is a fun activity, especially if you go with a friend. You can also save money as long as you avoid buying things you don’t really need.

10. Couponing

Again, couponing can be fun but you might end up spending more than you planned on if you aren’t careful with your purchases. One of our favorite couponing tricks is using the Honey App. Instead of searching the internet for promo codes, Honey searches for you in real time and automatically applies the promo code for you at checkout.

11. Volunteering

That’s kind of financial since time is money, right? Give some of your time to your favorite charities, or join a group or board in your town to give back to civic organizations.

12. Start a Business

I’ve kind of touched on this before, but almost anything on this list can actually be turned into some kind of a money-making business or money-making side hustle. Starting a business is fun and it’s a good way to make some extra money.

13. Budgeting Cash Flow Planning (that sounds better)

How to Start a Cash Flow Plan

What list of hobbies on a personal finance blog would be complete without listing budgeting? It may not sound fun at first, but I actually love working on my projected budgets for future months now that I’ve gotten good at budgeting.

And if you would like to get started with your own budget, you can get started with the Cash Flow Formula for FREE.

The Cash Flow Formula is the #1 tool to start saving more money and stop overspending each month…and it’s a GREAT hobby!

Bonus: If you like the idea of making money as a hobby, then check out 39 other ways to make money right now.

Outside Hobbies

Let’s move our fun inexpensive hobbies away from the computer and out inside the fresh air. Here’s a list of the top (and often free) hobbies that get you outside.

14. Gardening

Depending on how you go about it, gardening can be a pretty inexpensive hobby to try. If you get good enough at it, you might even be able to lower your grocery bill by growing more of your own food.

15. Camping

Camping is another hobby than be just as expensive, or frugal, as you make it. I truly enjoy camping and waking up to a brisk morning. It’s almost like a vacation, only cheaper. 🙂 Also, camping should be FREE and we have the best ways to find free camping here.

16. Hiking

I consider just about any walking around off the beaten path to be a “hike”. In that sense, hiking is a pretty cheap hobby to take up. A bonus is that hiking is a good way to stay in shape, which might be one of your New Year’s resolutions.

17. Become a Master BBQer

There are actually whole weekends devoted to BBQ competitions in my neck of the woods. If you are good with a grill, this might be a fun hobby to consider.

18. Geocaching

Geocaching is basically a high-tech treasure hunt. Find out how to get started here.

19. Rock Collecting

Pick up all those shiny things. If you call it a “collection” no one will judge you for bringing home random rocks anymore. 😉

20. Bird Watching

Just don’t become a crazy bird lady (or guy)!

21. Hunting

The equipment can be expensive if you don’t already own it, but you may also be able to borrow from a friend or family member to try out this hobby if you’re a beginner. Most hunters enjoy sharing their hobby with newbies to keep the sport alive.

22. Fishing

Same goes here! Most avid fishermen are more than willing to take along new people who don’t have their own equipment. Just don’t wear out your welcome if you fall in love with this hobby.

Intellectual Hobbies

After exercising your body in the fresh air, here are the best fun inexpensive hobbies that only require brain power.

23. Reading

This is pretty much the ultimate frugal hobby. Almost every community has a library you can use for free as long as you follow the rules and return your books on time. You can also start a book club, or swap books with friends to find more reading material.

24. Writing

Writing can be a fun hobby and it doesn’t have to turn into more than that. You can write in a diary, write short stories for fun, or write even write to make money like I mentioned earlier. If you love writing and actually want to get paid for it, there’s currently a shortage of freelance writers. If this interests you, check out this post on getting paid to be a freelance writer.

25. Drawing

A pencil and paper is all you need to get started with this frugal hobby. Even if you expand your artist supplies later on, this hobby shouldn’t be too costly.

26. Learn a New Language

Is there a language you’ve been dying to learn? There are lots of resources online and books at your library that you can use to learn a new language.

27. Learn to Play an Instrument

Learning to play a musical instrument doesn’t mean you have to take expensive lessons. Many instruments can be self-taught, especially now that you can learn almost everything you need to know on YouTube.

28. Learn to Sew

Learning basic sewing skills is a good idea. Knowing how to sew has actually saved me money. For example, my sewing skills have helped me save my clothes from being thrown in the rag bin a few times when they only needed minor repairs.

29. Learn a New Game

Playing games is one of my family’s favorite hobbies, especially is the weather is crappy outside. We don’t discriminate, we like to play board games and card games. They can also be a good way to meet new people if you go to community game nights. You might be able to find some at your local library, churches, or on meetup.com.

30. Read the News

Doesn’t sound very exciting, but you might be surprised what you can learn when you start reading the news regularly. Don’t just keep up on local news either, the world is bigger than that. Make sure you find out what’s going on elsewhere in the world too.

31. Explore Your Genealogy

Ask your family members for help with this project, or start looking online. When I put together my family genealogy, I was surprised at how much information I could find online.

Exercise Hobbies

First we started online, then we started making money with your hobby, then we moved outside and after that we started using our brain power for our hobbies. This next list is the best fun inexpensive hobbies that will also burn a few calories.

32. Biking

Most people have a bike sitting in their garage or storage shed. If you have an old unused bike, it won’t cost you much to give it a tune-up so you can start riding it again. Biking around your neighborhood is free.

33. Running

Running is probably the cheapest form of exercise out there. All you need to get started is a decent pair of shoes.

34. Get in Shape with Body Weight Exercises

Some you know that Peach is a Crossfit enthusiast. I’m a former Crossfiter myself, but I cut it from my budget to pay off my debt faster. One good habit I picked up from there that I still continue in my home workouts is doing bodyweight exercises. Like running, all you need for bodyweight exercises are good shoes and maybe a few standard household items. You can do things like air squats, pushups, situps, lunges, etc. without spending money.

35. Dance

I’m not talking about paying money and going to a dance studio – those things can be very expensive. Instead I’m talking about turning on your favorite music and using it to make up your own workout routine.

36. Swimming

If you live near a public beach, lake, etc. you can probably swim there for free. Swimming is a great cardiovascular exercise and it’s fun!

37. Join a Club Sports Team

Most communities have a Recreation Department that hosts sports leagues for kids and adults. They’re usually fairly inexpensive to join and offer lots of different sports to choose from.

38. Try Yoga

There are lots of free yoga video on YouTube. All you need to get started is a mat.

39. Practice Meditation

Exercise for your brain. 🙂

Skilled Hobbies

Lastly, it’s time to apply your skills to your hobby list. From cooking, to home-brewing, and even woodworking, we have you covered with this last bunch of fun inexpensive hobbies.

40. Cooking

For some cooking is truly a hobby. Even if you don’t love to cook, it’s definitely a good skill to have because cooking and eating at home is way cheaper than going out to eat. If you need some ideas for cooking, try out Erin Chase’s $5 Dinners – the site dedicated to helping you make each meal a $5 total…not five dollars per person.

41. Canning and Food Preservation

This old-fashioned skill can actually help you save money, especially if you are preserving food from your garden bounty to eat later on.

42. Furniture Restoration

I know several people who’ve taken up furniture restoration as a frugal hobby and they’ve also managed to furnish their homes with one-of-a-kind pieces they re-did themselves. You can also sell your restored furniture as a great side hustle hobby!

43. Home Brewing

There are lots of online resources that can teach you how to get started brewing your own beer, wine, or cider at home. It might a little equipment to get started, but if you regularly enjoy these beverages instead of buying them at the liquor store you’ll definitely save money in the long run.

44. Animal Husbandry

Growing up we raised many different kinds of animals on my parents’ farm. I still love animals and taking care of them today and it’s definitely a good skill to have.

45. Carpentry

Even if you don’t learn how to make fancy things, basic carpentry skills can be good to have as they can save you money when you know how to fix things around the house.

Next time you can’t think of something to do besides spending the day on the couch watching Netflix, check out this list instead.

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45 Fun Inexpensive Hobbies to Try this Year published first on https://mysingaporepools.weebly.com/

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aqua-lien · 5 years ago

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5000 Question Survey - Part 4

301. List 5 things you have not experienced that you would like to experience before you die. A:��Traveling to another country. B: Skydiving. C: Buying a house. D: My brothers getting married. E: My mom being debt-free 302. Will you try to accomplish any of these things within the next year? Maybe traveling to another country? Not sure. 303. What do you feel controlled by? My own fears. 304. If Jesus appeared to you and told you that the moon was made of green cheese would you believe him? No. 305. What is one thing you are sure of? I exist, at least in terms of my own reality. 306. At what part of the day do you feel the most alert? Around 11am, depending on when I woke up. 307. Have you ever played in a band? No. 308. Have you ever stared into the ocean thinking 'early creatures crawled outta that'? Yes omg. 309. If not, what do you think of when you are staring into the ocean? I also like to think about how big it is. 310. Do you like the mental challenge of chess or other games? Yes. 311. Do you ever think of where your atoms were before they were in you? Yes. 312. Do you ever think about where your atoms will go after they have been in you? Yes, probably just out to increase the universe’s entropy. 313. If you didn't know that people couldn't fly do you think that you could? Not unless I had prior proof of me, like, accidentally flying. 314. Are you someone that others call when they're having a problem and want to talk about it? Yes. 315. When it comes to literature, do you see beyond the writing and into the meaning intended by the author? Sometimes. 316. Is there anything you can take apart completely, and then put back together, and have no leftover parts? A pen lol 317. What are your feelings about the death penalty? I don’t think it’s reasonable. It’s very expensive and a lot of people are wrongfully executed. It’s very barbaric in my opinion, kind of like the Byzantine “eye for an eye” principle. 318. If there was a god and you could ask him/her one question what would it be? Why is there suffering? 319. Do you believe that life will be found on other planets? Yes absolutely. 320. What is something worth suffering for? Your own longitudinal happiness. 321. If you could put an extra eye on your body anywhere you wanted, where would you put it? Maybe like, a secret hidden third eye on my forehead. 322. Are you in touch with the earth and nature? Yes. 323. Would you rather live simply or extravagantly? Kind of in the middle. I want to be able to live in a space that’s completely 100% comfortable to me & reflective of who I am. If that costs a lot or a little, it doesn’t matter to me. 324. Have you ever been camping? Yes, probably like 5 times. 325. Is your heart open when you meet someone new? Not really. My past experiences are fair game, but what I’m thinking or feeling in that moment is more off-limits. 326. Are you able to have conversations with and become friends with people who are not like you and are interested in different things than you are? Yes, I’m a very tolerant person. 327. Are strangers more beautiful or frightening to you? It depends on the environment I’m in. 328. What stops you from doing everything you want to do? My own fears. 329. Can you think of three adjectives that do not apply to you at all? Unmotivated, delusional, ignorant. 330. How do you feel about Jeremy Jaynes, who got a nine-year prison sentence for spamming people with junk email (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeremy_Jaynes)? Our justice system is completely whack lmao. People get years for nonviolent offenses, meanwhile rape perpetrators get out after serving mere months in prison. And this doesn’t even touch people of color. 331. Do you know who the current premier of China is? No. 332. Are you very active? Kind of. 333. Is there a city that reminds you of the landscape of your brain? Not really? I don’t view my mind like that. 334. Have you ever loved someone who has loved you back? Yes. 335. Is it really being 'in love with' someone if the other person doesn't love you? Yes. Love often goes only one way. 336. Do you believe that there is someone perfect for everyone or that people just fall in love with whoever they are with at the time? I think that people come into your life to teach you things. Each person you date is a lesson, and you can be in love with all of them or not. However, there is one person meant for everyone, and they’re not necessarily a romantic partner either. 337. Do you know secret things? Yes. 338. Have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have? Yes lmao 339. How do you overcome your fears? I try to just face them, and I often get encouraging examples of positive outcomes from others before I try it. 340. What can you do better than anyone you know? I’m pretty good at empathizing. 341. Would you benefit from a wilder existence? Yes. 342. Does it seem to you like the range of socially acceptable behavior is getting smaller or larger? Larger. 343. Have you ever fired a gun? No. 344. Are people becoming more afraid of each other? Yes. 345. If you had to choose the percentage of freedom vs. safety what ratio would you decide on (ex: 100% free 0% safe)? 70% free, 30% safe. Safety is also relative, though. 346. Does safety stifle you? No, I live for safety. 347. Who or what needs to be stopped? Donald Trump lmao 348. Are human beings becoming more domesticated? No, I think humans are becoming more innovative and individualistic. 349. Do you follow the lives of the British Royal Family? No. 350. How did the death of Pope John Paul II (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pope_John_Paul_II) affect you? Not at all. 351. Have you ever lost something and never found it? Yes, lots of times. Mostly stuff like socks. 352. Do you listen to any talk radio shows? No. 353. Who do you trust more, your friends or your parents? Parents. 354. Would you ever date someone outside of your race or religion? Yes, I’ve done it before. 355. Which of the 7 deadly sins in the worst (gluttony, greed, pride, lust, envy, wrath, sloth)? Greed. 356. Which one are you most guilty of? Sloth. 357. Are you afraid to be alone with yourself? No. Do you try to avoid thinking? Sometimes, but I’ve learned it’s important to consider your thoughts for what they are and let them pass. 358. Would you venture to tell someone you loved him or her if they didn't say it first? Maybe. 359. What are you the most sensitive about? My individuality & freedom. 360. What can you talk about for hours? Astrology. 361. Do you talk about yourself, other people, or ideas the most? Myself lol 362. Do you believe that spell casting can work? To a certain extent. I believe most spell-casting is about manifestation. If you cast a spell, you’re putting energy out into the universe that says that you believe the outcome of the spell is real and that it will happen. Thusly, the universe may make it happen for you. 363. Are you a fan of The Legend of Zelda games? I’ve never played them. 364. What old movie would you go see if it were re-released in the movie theaters? The Goonies. 365. Is there a celebrity that you would be too starstruck to talk to if you met them? Ariana Grande. 366. Have you ever left a mean unsigned note? No. 367. Do you think it's cheesy to paste things you didn't write into your diary? Not really. 368. What are three things that you try not to think about? My family members dying, other people’s suffering, my failures. 369. Is casual sex acceptable for you? No, it ruins my self-esteem. I don’t judge others who do it, though, to each their own. 370. What form of sexual protection do you use? I take birth control & demand my partners use condoms. 371. What is expected of you that you feel is unnatural or not right? That I should have a solid plan for years in advance when I’m unsure of who I even fucking am right now. 372. Do you sometimes place your own expectations on other people? Yes, a lot of the time I expect people to have as much integrity as I do. 373. Do you sometimes act overeager to make friends when you are around strangers? Yes. 374. Do you take everything that is said literally? No, I’m very intuitive when it comes to sarcasm. 375. Do you take most things others say seriously? Depends. 376. Do you have a quick wit? Yes. 377. Do you believe in the need for political correctness? To a degree, yes. 378. Do you have strong opinions and beliefs? Yes. 379. If yes, can you still hang out with and be friends with people who disagree with you? As long as there can be respectful conversation about it. 380. Are you uptight? Yes, very. 381. Do you sometimes do risky things? Not very often, no. 382. Could just about anyone hold your interest in a conversation for at least ten minutes? No, I’m actually very picky about who I talk to. If I’m not feeling it, there will be no conversation lol. 383. Are you self-conscious? Mostly about my personality, yes. 384. What would be your ideal destination for a Saturday afternoon? Probably at home or at the thrift store. 385. Does anyone have a video tape of you doing something embarrassing? I have a couple of videos of stuff I’ve done drunk or high, so yeah lol 386. What is Kevin Smith’s (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kevin_Smith) best movie? Clerks 100% 387. Where do you like to go on Friday or Saturday nights? My apartment lmao 388. Do you like your friends to act the same way all the time or do you accept their moods and changes? I definitely accept my friends’ mood changes. That’s what being a friend is all about. 389. Do you often feel like other people are judging you? Sometimes but I don’t care. 390. What do you think other people judge you to be like? Bitchy, intimidating, confident. 391. Are you quick to judge others? Sometimes. I’m trying to break that habit. 392. When you have a fight with someone do you want to talk about it right away or calm down first and then talk? Calm down first, then talk. 393. Some say love is a river (according to the old song). What do you say love is? Love is a neurochemical con job. 394. What is the worst fault a person can have? Lack of integrity. 395. Do you have it? No. 396. Which do you think has more impact on a person’s character, genetics or environment? The environment 100%. 397. Who was your first best friend? Brittnie. 398. If you are not best friends anymore, what came between you? My dad cheated on my mom with her mom. 399. Who have you read a biography about? Douglas MacArthur (we have the same birthday). 400. What would your own autobiography be called? This Bitch.

#5000qs

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missmichellebelle · 8 years ago

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a heart of paper cranes

one.

In Japan, there is an ancient legend that promises a wish to anyone who folds a thousand paper cranes.

Yuuri has given Victor twenty-three. It seems a shame to stop now.

abc au challenge: “o" is for “origami”

for @literallylavender

victuuri. [ ao3 ] 6.4k

In hindsight, tea was a Very Bad idea. Not so bad as coffee, of course, but Yuuri generally avoids coffee, mostly because it tends to aggravate his anxiety. Which is currently, infuriatingly active, making his bones vibrate in his skin, and what caffeine is in the half-cup of English Breakfast he’s had is making it worse. When he wraps his hands around the circumference of the paper cup, his fingers are trembling.

He takes a deep breath, and presses the home button on his phone, making the screen light up. 6:56pm.

Definitely should have done something herbal.

Definitely should have worn a different shirt.

His phone has barely dimmed when he taps it awake again, swallowing thickly. 6:57pm.

Definitely going to get stood up.

Definitely shouldn’t have let Phichit talk him into a blind date.

Definitely—

“Hello.”

Yuuri jerks so hard that some tea sloshes up and out onto the white plastic lid, and he pulls his hands away quickly before they can cause any further damage.

He looks at his phone. 6:58pm. He takes a settling breath, looks up, and is thankful for it. Apparently, that breath was his last.

“Are you Phichit’s friend?”

This is definitely a mistake.

“When was the last time you even went on a date?”

This bookstore is not big enough considering that no amount of artfully dodging between the shelves has allowed him to lose Phichit. Then again, Phichit is like a blood hound when he wants to be.

So Yuuri is deploying the only other tactic he knows—ignoring his best friend entirely. He pulls another book from the shelf, more to block Phichit’s evaluating stare than out of any kind of interest.

“You know what, you don’t even have to answer, because we have been friends for six years, and unless you really do have a secret fiancé, you’ve been on one date, and—”

“That wasn’t a date,” Yuuri argues, exasperated enough to finally break his silence. Even then, he keeps his voice down, despite the fact that this is a bookstore and not a library.

“Exactly. So you’ve been on no dates.” Phichit makes a zero shape with his hand, leveling Yuuri with a look that is simultaneously one of concern but also judgement. But it’s gone just as quickly as it came, wiping away as Phichit brings his hands together in front of his mouth, the gesture pleading despite the easy smile that graces his face. “Just give it a shot. He’s apparently a real catch, and he’s friends with Chris! You remember Chris, right?”

Yuuri has a vague memory of someone introduced to him in a too-crowded bar while he was halfway to an anxiety attack from being in said bar. Either way, being friends with someone whose face Yuuri can’t even recall isn’t exactly something he would consider a vote of confidence.

So he turns away and walks further down the shelf, eyes flicking lazily over the titles as Phichit scrambles after him.

“Yuuri.” His name comes out as a slight whine. “If you hate it, I’ll call you half an hour in and you can use me as a reason to leave.” Phichit crowds close, doing his best to take Yuuri’s attention away from the book spines. “We can go to Little Tokyo.”

“Racist.”

“You and I both know that’s the only reliable place to get authentic Japanese food.” Yuuri could counter that there are a few other places he could name outside of Little Tokyo, but… Well, he does like it there. Phichit frowns finally, closes his eyes, and when he sighs, it sounds like defeat. That’s enough to catch Yuuri’s interest—Phichit rarely lets on that he’s losing. “I’ll clean the bathroom for a week.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows raise, but he simply plucks another book from the shelf, flipping it over to read the back.

“Two weeks.” There’s a tinge to Phichit’s voice, and, wow, he must be getting desperate. Yuuri surveys the book with contemplation, reading absolutely nothing of the description before turning to his best friend.

“A month,” he counters, and Phichit gapes at him in surprise, although it isn’t long before it morphs into absolute delight. Yuuri has the sudden, sinking feeling that he gave in far, far too soon.

“You drive a hard bargain, Katsuki, but I accept.” He holds out his hand, and Yuuri reluctantly seals the deal with a shake, his resignation hung over his shoulders like a weighted shroud. Phichit whips his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll let Chris know you’re down for Friday at seven.”

“What will my poor, secret fiancé think?” He grumbles monotonously, sliding the book back into its nook on the shelf. Phichit chuckles, fingers flying over his screen. “If you needed someone to go on this date so badly, why didn’t you ask someone who’d actually be willing? You know everyone. I’m sure you could have found a candidate without offering servitude.”

Phichit never cleans the bathroom. Yuuri isn’t even sure if he knows how. It’s always just been one of Yuuri’s chores, and it’s never bothered him. The thought of not having to do it for a month, though…

He’ll have to make sure Phichit actually cleans it.

“Ah.” Phichit smiles, unabashed and unashamed, finishing his text with a flourish. “I already told Chris that you were going weeks ago.”

“Phichit!”

He laughs. “It’s okay, Yuuri! You’ll be fine!”

Yuuri is absolutely, one hundred percent not fine.

He’s just consciously aware of the fact that his mouth is open. He’s probably gaping. He’s sure he would stop, but he’s forgotten nearly all of his motor functions suddenly and so the act of closing his mouth has gone from marginally difficult to basically impossible.

The silence is like another presence between them. Not just a single presence, but an entire crowd, huddled right there at the small round table that separates Yuuri from one of the most beautiful people he has ever been blessed enough to lay eyes on.

It stretches, and the look of charming confidence that adorns his blind date’s face (it has to be him, there’s no way it’s not him, but how how how is it him?) starts to slip, certainty turning to doubt.

Yuuri’s heart beats in his throat.

“Or—”

“Yes,” Yuuri blurts, the word so sudden it nearly comes out in Japanese. It feels like he’s answering a question that was posed hours ago. His breathing is too rapid, making his chest ache, and he bows his head, nearly bumping his chin against the table with how low he goes. “I-I’m Phichit’s friend.”

He winces. A normal person would have given their name. Introduced themselves.

But a normal person also wouldn’t be making themselves light headed with the pace of their breathing, and wouldn’t be bowing like they’re meeting the Emperor (…in a country where bowing isn’t even customary).

Maybe he’ll just leave. He’ll realize that this is some sort of mistake and will just walk away while Yuuri’s eyes are on the table, so he doesn’t have to watch.

Inadequacy swells like tar on the back of his tongue, thick and heavy as it drips down his throat and into the rest of his body.

Why would Phichit do this?

“Oh.”

He’s still there, and, what’s stranger, he sounds… Relieved?

“Thank goodness.” There’s a slight lilt to his words, like a childhood accent long since rounded and ground down by the California coastline and the lights of Sunset Boulevard. “I didn’t see anyone else who—how did Chris describe you?” Yuuri glances up just in time to see a long, slender finger tap contemplatively against perfectly shaped lips. “Ah, yes.” Those lips break into a triumphant smile that makes Yuuri’s stomach feel like it’s going to erupt, and he drops his eyes to the table again. “Very cute, very Japanese, glasses.”

Yuuri can feel flames ignite beneath his skin, no doubt painting his neck and ears a noticeable shade of red. He pushes self consciously at the bridge of his glasses. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn them. He could have worn contacts, instead. Never mind that he doesn’t own contacts, and kind of hates them, he would have acquired some if he’d known he was being set up with an actual male model.

(Well, maybe not actual, but it is a possibility. Yuuri is rapidly realizing that he knows absolutely nothing about this date other than the fact that it’s taking place in a café at seven on a Friday. Phichit hadn’t been forthcoming with any details, and Yuuri hadn’t thought to ask. Yuuri never thinks to ask.

So, really, this is all his own fault.)

Suddenly, there are fingers gentling caressing the tip of his chin, lifting until Yuuri’s eyes lock with a shade of blue that reminds him of the winter sky.

“True on all three accounts, really.”

The eye contact holds for one, two, three seconds, before Yuuri hears his brain screaming at him and his body responds, his back slamming so hard into the back of his chair it’s a miracle he doesn’t topple backwards. The look that follows him is one of utter surprise, but then that charming smile is back, looking almost playful as the hovering hand drops to splay against the tabletop.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

Remember? Yuuri can feel the confusion skewing up his face. There is no way he has ever seen this person before in his life. He would have remembered. The man in front of him is not someone he would have been quick to forget, even if he’d just seen him at a glance.

He lifts his hand again, and Yuuri manages to embarrass himself further by flinching away from it this time, but… He isn’t touched again. Instead, the hand is extended between them as an offering.

“I’m Victor.” The smile, if possible, becomes more blinding. Yuuri is pretty certain no one’s smile is supposed to be that utterly perfect. He’s sure that people are starting to turn and stare because they have never seen anything like it before, and Yuuri honestly wouldn’t be able to blame them. “Victor Nikiforov.”

His hand is soft, and slightly cool to the touch, and that moment—when their hands clasp, Victor’s fingers curling ever so slightly around Yuuri’s, the pressure in the squeeze small yet significant—feels almost frozen in time, surprisingly more intimate than when those same fingers had been a determined touch against his face.

In the space of that moment, Yuuri forgets his manners, and that generally he should be introducing himself in kind.

“Ah.” Hand still held, Yuuri dips his head in a bow again, this time much more quickly and much less severe—an echo, a remnant, a reflex, even though he hasn’t lived in Japan for over half a decade. “Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Yuuri.” Victor hums his name, squeezing his hand. He draws the vowel out for far too long, and thank god he didn’t try to pronounce Yuuri’s last name, and yet… Yuuri finds it doesn’t bother him all that much. Victor says his name like it’s familiar, and Yuuri almost wants to replicate the situation, to see if Victor’s name sounds just as at home in his own mouth.

He doesn’t.

“A pleasure to formally meet you.”

Yuuri doesn’t realize what Victor is doing until he feels the brush of soft, dry lips against the ridge of his knuckles, like this is some sort of historically romantic meet-cute and not a cliché coffeeshop blind date.

His face is so hot he feels like he’s suffocating in it, and yet he still somehow manages to stammer through his own nice to meet you, jerking his hand back into his personal space, fingers closed in a fist like he can maybe hold onto whatever just happened.

“I see you already got something to drink.” Victor gestures to the cup of tea Yuuri had almost spilt all over himself, sounding slightly dismayed by its existence.

“Ah, yes, I was… Early.”

An hour early. Whatever is left of his tea, it’s no doubt tepid.

“Punctuality.” Victor’s face blooms with a smile. “An admirable quality.”

It’s potentially one of the strangest compliments Yuuri has ever received, and yet it still has him ducking his head and averting his gaze. He doesn’t dare say that it’s less punctuality and more anxiety. The thought alone already sours Victor’s words before they’ve fully settled in the air between them.

“Well, can I get you anything else? A pastry?”

“Oh, no. No. I, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Victor’s voice is like a coo, his fingers dancing against the table, precariously close to where Yuuri’s other hand is resting. He watches them as they move closer, like the fins of a shark circling their prey. “A cupcake, a cookie? Something… Sweet?” The back of his nail glides against the bone of Yuuri’s wrist, and Yuuri snaps his lips closed tight before he yelps, hand drawing in towards his body. He shakes his head, vehemently, and Victor chuckles quietly, slipping away with the promise of I’ll be right back.

When his shadow no longer falls across the surface of the table, some of the tension leaks out of Yuuri’s shoulders, and he looks up and watches Victor’s retreating back. There’s a part of him (a large part, the majority, even) that expects Victor to make a beeline for the door, but instead he meanders to the back of the line, eyes roving in contemplation over the menu boards above.

After a few seconds, he glances over, and Yuuri’s body goes still—he’s going to think Yuuri is so weird for staring, he’s definitely going to leave now—and Victor smiles. He even gives a little wave with it, and then his attention shifts to the bake case and the plethora of foods it offers.

And he doesn’t leave.

Why isn’t he leaving?

Yuuri quickly grabs his phone, looking up one more time to see that Victor is, indeed, still in line and not gone forever, before unlocking it.

Yuuri groans, digging his hand through his hair. It’s not like he can make it look any worse, especially when he’s going to look like a dumpster fire next to one Victor Nikiforov no matter what he does. In fact, he’s pretty sure everyone in this café is already silently weighing in on how unbalanced of a couple they make.

(Not that they’re a couple, just—people might be drawing that conclusion.

Actually, on second thought, they’re probably more confused as to why someone like Victor would ever even speak to someone like Yuuri. That’s a lot more likely.)

The urge to apologize is sudden, kicking in like an unavoidable gag reflex. He’s completely and wholly underwhelming in every possible way, and that’s just now. Soon they’ll probably start talking because Yuuri is pretty sure that’s what people do on dates, and… And Victor is going to realize how utterly disappointing Yuuri Katsuki actually is.

He wishes Phichit understood that Yuuri doesn’t go on dates for this reason (among a plethora of others). If he doesn’t date, he can’t disappoint someone. Because he always disappoints people. He always lets them down.

But Phichit is a good friend, and Yuuri knows he would brush aside all of those fears with a sweep of his hand. Yuuri wishes the action was permanent. That it wasn’t just a balm, but a cure.

Maybe, if Yuuri was better at explaining all of this, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

A date is one thing, but why had Phichit thought that this was a good idea? Why had Victor’s friend, Chris (who apparently had met Yuuri and knew at least a little bit of what he was about to get Victor into) subject him to this? Who looks at someone like Victor and thinks, “you know who would complete that devastatingly beautiful picture? Yuuri Katsuki”?

(No one, that’s who.)

The next time Yuuri has the presence of mind to remember where he physically is, to take actual stock of his body, he’s shredded two beverage napkins to ribbons and he feels light headed from how close to hyperventilating he suddenly is. How long has he been inside his own head? What time is it?

He checks his phone. 7:05pm.

Not long, not long, okay. He needs… He presses a hand to his chest, trying to focus on his breathing and not on how sharp the inside of his throat feels. He takes a sip of his cold tea, as if it might help, might ground him.

(It doesn’t.)

There’s two napkins left on the table. One is mostly damp, having caught the brunt of the spillage from his tea earlier, but the other… It’s just a plain, white, slightly textured napkin, but Yuuri reaches for it, focusing on it far too intently. It’s square, but is it perfectly square or—

He folds it in half on the diagonal. Not quite perfect, but… Close enough. Good enough. He breathes.

Unfolds it, presses the opposite corners together, creates a sharply creased X across the napkin. Lengthwise. Across. Presses in at the corners, folds those pieces in, pulls these ones up.

He breathes.

For a few moments, Yuuri loses himself in the familiar motions. It’s muscle memory, the dexterity instilled through constant practice as a young child, sitting in his mother’s lap as her hands curled over his, showing them how to move. His breathing slows, and his heart calms down, and Yuuri pulls a paper crane out of a napkin.

(“I’m going to make a thousand,” he’d told his mother, all those years ago where they sat at the family kotatsu. “And then I can make a wish.”)

He wonders, in all the years his hands have fallen into these same comforting gestures, if he’s gotten anywhere close.

What would he wish for?

“What’s that?”

Yuuri doesn’t startle nearly as badly the second time around, but he does manage to hit the table with his knee, hurting himself and spilling more of his tea in the process. A few drops land on the wing of his crane, soaking in and staining parts of it a weakly colored brown. He watches the stain travel, spider-webbing through the napkin’s texture and warping the material where the liquid weighs it down.

It would be easy to crush the crane with his palm, to brush it away with the rest of the napkin scraps and into the trash.

He probably has made a thousand paper cranes, but he’d never know.

Yuuri’s never kept any of them.

“Origami?” Victor’s voice is bright with interest around the word his foreign mouth butchers slightly, cut through only by the scratch of Victor’s chair sliding out. Yuuri stares at the crane, but before he can make up his mind to throw it away, Victor is plucking it from the napkin wreckage. Yuuri’s eyes follow it. “You made this?” Victor stares at him, eyes wide and curious in a way that would be more fitting on a child than a man of his ilk.

After a few moments of compulsory hesitance, Yuuri nods, eyes suddenly critical of his tiny bird. One of the wings is torn at the end rather than pointed. The napkin hadn’t been perfectly square, so none of his points are sharp. Some of the folds overlap. The beak is an absolute disaster, and then—

Victor’s fingers slide against the stained wing, fascinated.

“Out of a napkin?”

It’s not judgmental, like Yuuri had been expecting. If anything, he almost sounds… Surprised? Impressed? None of the words make sense where he’s trying to fit them, but he can’t think of anything else. It’s not even that good of a crane.

“Uh, yeah, the, uh, the napkins are almost perfectly square, so…” He fidgets, shifting his shoulders. Most of his friends have seen him fold a paper crane. A lot of them even kept the ones he made. But those had been like a performance. He’d been ready for them. He’d had the proper paper. Those cranes were made with the possibility that they could be kept, every crease, every point, every fold—perfect.

This crane is not one of those cranes. This is a garbage crane. This is a crane born from anxiety. The only reason it exists is that it kept Yuuri from collapsing his lungs with the strength of his oncoming anxiety attack.

It’s not perfect. It’s ugly. And it doesn’t deserve the awe with which Victor is looking at it.

“A paper crane out of a napkin.” Victor sounds quietly delighted. “A napkin crane.” His smile is giddy, like what he said is particularly clever. And all Yuuri can do is watch as the crane twists back and forth by its tail between Victor’s thumb and forefinger, biting down on the need to ask for it back.

This is how Victor will remember him: spilt tea and an imperfect crane.

Victor sets the crane down finally, resting it gently against his own paper cup so that it lays on its wing rather than balancing on the body. “Where did you learn to do this?”

It’s not a question Yuuri is expecting.

He doesn’t have many friends, but most of them are American. And they seem to think that people just come out of Asia knowing origami.

(Yuuri had learned to make other things just for fear of disappointing people with the fact that the only thing he did know how to make was a crane. He can do a frog, and a butterfly, and a rabbit, but cranes are still his favorite.)

So he’s expecting it even less when he answers.

He doesn’t tell Victor why he had his mother teach him. That seems a little too embarrassing. But he does tell him about the other animals he can make.

“You said that Chris described me as Very Japanese. Is that what he meant?” Yuuri skews his eyebrows together. Is that how people think of him? As Very Japanese?

Victor laughs, and the sound is like honey down Yuuri’s spine.

“I’m not sure exactly what he meant. It makes me wonder if he describes me to people as Very Russian.” He smiles, good-naturedly, clearly not at odds with his friends rather stereotypical descriptors.

“Ah, that’s it,” Yuuri says more to himself than to Victor, but Victor still hums inquisitively. Yuuri presses his lips together, averts his gaze, shrugs his shoulder. “I could tell you had a bit of an accent, I just… Couldn’t tell from where.”

“Really?” Victor’s face washes over with surprise. “You can tell? Most people can’t. I moved to the States when I was six, so most people are oblivious to it.”

“One foreigner to another.” Yuuri gives a small smile, and something passes over Victor’s expression like a wave. It’s gone before Yuuri can look at it too closely. “So… Are you?”

Victor rests his cheek against his knuckles. “Am I what?”

“Very Russian?” Yuuri speaks as if imitating someone. The laughter that comes out of Victor is softer and hardly there at all, and it steals all the breath out of Yuuri’s lungs.

“Well, I can speak full sentences with particles and everything, and I don’t eat borscht.” He smiles. “I do have matryoshka dolls, though, and I do love the cold.” Something sparks behind his eyes. “Oh, and I’m a communist.”

For the third time in less than twenty minutes, Yuuri almost spills his tea again.

“Really?”

“No.” Victor’s smile stretches wider, and then they both laugh. Quiet, private, and Yuuri can feel his tension easing—slow, and steady, like helium escaping an air balloon through a needle point. But… It’s easing.

It doesn’t take long for Victor to realize that any conversation to be had will be mostly by his lead. Yuuri’s answers feel forced at first, dragged across his tongue and through his teeth, but no matter how stilted his answers, Victor keeps asking questions. And with every question, the answers come easier.

Maybe because Victor’s questions are simple.

He asks about growing up in Japan. He asks about his family. He asks about coming to America, and about school. But he skirts the hard questions, the ones that Yuuri keeps anticipating. He’s sure he sees them sometimes, just behind Victor’s eyes, sitting right on the tip of his tongue, but then they’re gone and Victor is moving on to his next topic.

So Yuuri talks about Japan without talking about being homesick. He talks about his family without saying why he’s been gone for so long. He talks about coming to America without explaining why he moved so far away. Victor never asks if he’s running from something. He never asks if Yuuri feels regret. He never asks if he’s happy.

And Yuuri is grateful. Because those are the same questions that keep Yuuri up at night, that tumble through his head as he searches for sleep and can only find the darkness of his ceiling. Even then, he doesn’t know the answers.

In contrast, Victor seems more than willing to lay everything bare for Yuuri to look at. He answers questions that Yuuri doesn’t even ask, and the ones that he does manage to piece together are elaborated on until Yuuri forgets what his original question even was. It almost feels like Yuuri can press in any direction and find no resistance, no walls, but he also suspects that maybe Victor is just better at this than he is.

But Victor had left Yuuri’s walls in tact, so Yuuri doesn’t go searching for his.

He keeps the questions he does work up the courage to ask completely generic.

Victor is originally from St. Petersburg. He doesn’t visit as often as he’d like. His parents are divorced, and he has one step-sibling. He’s a freelance events coordinator, which doesn’t even sound like a real job, and Victor is quick to explain that it isn’t—he’s essentially an overpaid party planner.

He also has a full-sized poodle that, 45 minutes into their date, is being shown off to Yuuri via Victor’s phone. His name is Makkachin, and for every picture that Victor has, there is a story that endears the dog quickly and firmly in Yuuri’s heart.

He stops himself from saying I can’t wait to meet him more times than he’d like to admit.

“He likes the beach. I don’t know if he has a preference, but I think the one by the pier is his favorite, because—”

Yuuri’s phone starts to vibrate violently where it’s been sitting, forgotten, in the corner of the table, and both of them turn to look at it in surprise. No one ever calls Yuuri—he’s infamous for never answering.

“Sorry.” Yuuri shoots Victor an apologetic look, and then glances at his phone curiously. It’s Phichit. Which… Doesn’t make any sense, because Phichit is the one who sent Yuuri on this date, and—

Oh.

Right.

The escape clause.

Yuuri can feel his heartbeat through his stomach and down to his toes. He draws his bottom lip between his lip, hesitating.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?”

Yuuri looks at Victor, who doesn’t even seem vaguely irritated by the interruption. He’s smiling, eyebrows lifted curiously, fingers curled against the pale expanse of his cheek. The sight, frankly, makes Yuuri’s heart hurt slightly. His eyes flicker to his phone again. It won’t keep ringing for much longer. It will go to voicemail soon. If it does, will Phichit call again? Or will he assume it means that Yuuri has no intention of bailing on the date?

He looks at Victor again, watching as he tips Yuuri’s paper crane back and forth with the point of his finger, letting it rock from one wing to its center and then to the other wing, before the process reverses and repeats.

Yuuri’s heart is thundering so loudly that its all he can hear, and he’s hyperaware of the way blood pulses through his fingertips as he picks up his phone and… Turns it off completely. He expects his breath to rattle out of him, all broken pieces and nerves, but it comes out on a smooth exhale.

“No.” He sets his phone back on the table, face down. “It’s fine.” He glances at Victor, suddenly feeling shy, and drags his lips together. “It can wait.”

This is where Victor picks up their conversation, mid-sentence, like he never stopped, only he… Doesn’t. When Yuuri has scrounged together enough courage to look him in the eye again (it takes several Moments, nearly a dozen deep breaths, and a brief internal monologue of encouragement), he finds Victor staring at him like…

Yuuri’s not sure. His grasp of the English language fails him. No one has ever looked at him the way Victor is currently looking at him, and Yuuri has no idea how to describe it.

Whatever it is, it makes Yuuri’s heart hiccup in his throat.

“I, um.” He closes his eyes, centers himself. “You were saying before? About Makkachin and the beach?”

When he looks again, Victor is blinking back to himself. He looks about two seconds away from shaking himself into composure—if people like Victor did such obvious acts of recalibration. Instead, he smiles again, and this one is different still. Yuuri is sure he’s seen a hundred different smiles since Victor walked up to the table, up to him, and this one is… It’s not bad, or forced, or anything like that.

He thinks, maybe, it’s a little warmer.

“Right.” His voice curls around the word, fondly. “Makkachin.”

They sit in the café until one of the employees starts bussing the tables, flipping up chairs even though there are still customers in the lobby. Victor is laughing softly, telling Yuuri in vague details about his last client, when said employee drops a chair and it clatters against the tile flooring, drawing everyone’s attention and pulling Yuuri and Victor from whatever bubble they had come to exist in.

Yuuri’s eyes widen.

“Are they closing already? What time is it?” He picks up his phone, only to remember that he shut it off… He’s not sure how long ago now. He frowns at it, holding down the buttons to turn it back on.

“Ah… Nearly 10,” Victor muses, and Yuuri looks over at him, to see Victor’s own phone in his hand. “Seems like we’ve been here for quite awhile.”

Looking at their table now, Yuuri can tell. He’s had two more cups of tea (some fruity green blend this particular café offers, and then a peppermint herbal), and Victor had his own cups of chamomile. There’s a plate from the very large shortbread cookie they shared, covered in Yuuri’s napkin shards and bits of crystallized sugar that their fingers had left behind. The crane is still next to Victor, slightly perkier now that its wing has dried, and it’s hard to believe that Yuuri made it nearly three hours ago.

A surprised laugh escapes his throat, and he blinks rapidly.

“Yeah.” It comes out breathless, and it makes him want to laugh again. He can’t seem to fit the time he spent with Victor into three hours. There’s no possible way it’s been that long. It feels like they just started talking.

“What’s your phone number?” Victor asks without preamble, and Yuuri has become so used to answering questions—easier questions, and much harder ones—that he prattles off the number without thinking about it. It’s only a moment later that he realizes that Victor is typing it away into his phone.

Yuuri’s phone vibrates, signifying that it’s powered on once more, and then begins to vibrate furiously.

“Ah!” Yuuri grabs it off the table, trying to muffle the noise, but Victor is already chuckling.

“I promise those aren’t all me.” There’s a pause in the vibration, and then there’s a final one a few seconds later. “But that one was.”

Yuuri glances down at his phone. He has… Wow, a lot of messages from Phichit, but the most recent is from an unknown number, and simply has a purple heart emoji.

Yuuri isn’t sure what to say, pressing his phone to his chest and looking at Victor helplessly. If they truly have been talking for three hours, Yuuri’s words have finally dried up.

“Let me walk you out, before the staff starts glaring at us anymore than they already are.” He grins, already scooting his chair back, and an employee descends on their table to quickly start clearing away their cups and trash. “Oh, wait, not that.” Victor just manages to scoop up the crane before it gets taken away, cupping it carefully in one hand, and Yuuri feels embarrassed as he stands.

“You—” He swallows. Shrugs. “You don’t have to keep that. It’s not… It’s not very good.” The flare of discomfort feels foreign after it’s been absent for too long, and Yuuri twists his hands together in front of him.

“I know I don’t have to.” Victor’s voice is gentle. “I want to.” His smile floods Yuuri’s vision, and he realizes that he’s bent down in order to invade it. As much as they’ve been talking, the table had stayed firmly between them. Even when they’d been eating the cookie, and their fingers had casually brushed together, it had never seemed deliberate and invasive. This is the closest Victor has been since the beginning of their date, and Yuuri forgets how to breathe all over again.

His fingers are warmer now, as he pushes some hair up and away from Yuuri’s eyes.

“If you want, you could make me a better one tomorrow.”

“T-tomorrow?” Yuuri is astonished he’s able to speak at all, especially considering his brain is certainly short circuiting from Victor’s small, affectionate touch.

“Tomorrow.” Victor’s words are firm, serious. Yuuri swallows. “Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?”

His lips part, and his tongue is limp and useless in his mouth.

Something is telling him to say no.

Something bigger is making that impossible.

Yuuri gives a small nod, and Victor’s eyes crinkle warmly with his smile.

The closeness ends. Victor steps away, his hand falling away only to confidently take up Yuuri’s own and lead him from the café. There is a lightness to his gait that seems to match the erratic, giddy firework spectacular currently taking place inside Yuuri’s ribcage.

“Do you need a ride home?” Victor asks, once the door to the café has closed behind them. It’s early April, but the night still holds a bit of chill. It’s nice, especially considering the dry, hot nights that will inevitably follow as summer gets closer.

“Ah, no, I drove here.” His car is parked just around the corner, thankfully tucked from view. If Victor can afford to live downtown, chances are he probably drives something nice. No need for him to see Yuuri’s used Honda. “But thank you.”

They come to a stop at the curb, skirting the soft glow of light shining through the café’s storefront windows and onto the sidewalk. Yuuri’s eyes keep jumping to where Victor’s hand is still wrapped firmly around his, so it’s a little startling when he glances up and finds Victor facing him.

“I guess this is where we say goodnight, then.” He reaches up, brushing pieces of Yuuri’s hair from his eyes again, and Yuuri’s free hand curls against his chest, the bite of his nails into the meat of his palm the only grounding factor in what could so easily be a dream.

How did the night get here? Yuuri’s not even sure. The last several hours feel like a blur, the line between points hard to find and retrace. It just… Doesn’t seem possible. Not that he just went on a blind date and survived, but that he… Enjoyed it. That Victor enjoyed it.

(Yuuri assumes. Victor wouldn’t be inviting him out to lunch if he hadn’t enjoyed himself, right?)

That’s probably the hardest thing to justify.

Victor had stayed. Victor had, potentially, had a good time talking to and getting to know Yuuri. Victor wanted to see Yuuri again. Tomorrow.

There’s a voice in his head, that sounds annoyingly like Phichit, that says, See? That wasn’t so bad, right?

Ugh. Phichit. He’s going to want to know every detail of the night, and his smugness is going to be their third roommate for the foreseeable future.

But, well… Yuuri looks down at Victor’s hand in his again, and can’t help the blushing smile that dances from cheek to cheek. It’s very likely that it’s worth it.

“I guess so.”

“Yuuri.” Victor takes a step closer, his fingers pausing against the angle of Yuuri’s jaw. “This is a date.” There’s something sparkling in Victor’s eyes that makes Yuuri’s stomach roll over on itself. “Don’t I get a kiss goodnight?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, and he knows he rocks back a step, even without consciously meaning to. The cacophony in his head leaves little room for the fear that he just insulted Victor, that he just ruined everything, the anxiety a mere prickle of spikes underneath the bells and whistles and the ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod’s.

But Victor just smiles, slightly softer, and his finger travels over Yuuri’s bottom lip before it falls away.

“Maybe not tonight.” But Victor’s face still hovers close, too close for Yuuri to be held responsible for basic bodily operations such as breathing, speaking, and keeping himself upright at the same time. He almost fails at all three when Victor’s lips press, chaste and sweet, against Yuuri’s cheek, his breath warm and tea scented when he whispers, “Goodnight, Yuuri.”

And then he’s gone. He steps away, his hands leaving Yuuri behind, gives one last devastating smile, and then turns and walks down the street. Yuuri watches him go, one hand pressed carefully to his recently kissed skin, and belatedly remembers to breathe.

Victor crosses the street, his figure cutting a striking silhouette under the streetlights, and Yuuri watches him as he does a spin, a gleeful laugh escaping him, and… Yeah.

Yuuri might not be doing spins in the middle of the street, but he can’t stop smiling, heart rabbit quick where it beats beneath his palm, every fiber of his being remembering that single point of contact and the way it still seems to to tingle and spark even now, like a star pressed permanently into his skin.

He lets out a quieter laugh of his own, pushing his hands into his pockets, and heads for his car.

#victuuri #viktuuri #yoi #yuri on ice #words by michelle #fic: a heart of paper cranes #victuuri*#fluff*#just as a heads up that i'm now posting my work on ao3 a day before i post it here #that means you guys get the polished edited version but ao3 gets stuff sooner #sorry i'm needy for attention and that's just a better set up for exposure .-.#as usual my horrendously long author's note is at ao3 #also sorry about the fake text thing but formatting is hard and also i want to use emojis dammit

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twh-news · 8 years ago

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10 things we learned on the set on Kong Skull Island | Nerdist

Even in a world of Avengers, the Justice League, and the unending Star Wars saga, there’s something undeniably epic about King Kong. America’s most enduring oversized movie monster has survived over 80 years of cultural, political, and technological change, all the while providing a steady understated commentary on the primal power of myth and nature. I was lucky enough to get a firsthand look at Legendary’s reboot of the Kong mythos when I trekked through a muddy jungle along the coast of Oahu to chat with Kong: Skull Island director Jordan Vogt-Roberts and his stars, Samuel L. Jackson, Brie Larson, and Tom Hiddleston. In the wake of 2014’s Godzilla, and with Godzilla Vs. Kong waiting in the wings, one might be tempted to consider the latest Kong film a mere stepping stone on the path of the studio’s shared “Monsterverse.” But the vision behind Skull Island is as enormous as the land on which it was lensed…

Kong’s a Lonely God

In previous versions of the King Kong story, like the original 1933 film, the 1970s Jessica Lange starrer, or Peter Jackson’s CG-laden remake, Kong’s affection for a human woman has often been his defining characteristic. But Skull Island takes an even broader, more universal approach to the character, keying in on the loneliness that informs him, even as his size dwarfs that of previous Kongs…

“What I love about this version of Kong is [there’s] a loneliness to him,” says director Jordan Vogt-Roberts. “An emotion to him that he’s the last of these things. Even in the way he walks and the way that he strides. In Peter’s movie they do a great job telling the beauty and the beast story and it very much is about emoting in a very human way. We want our Kong to feel very human in ways but also very godlike in ways. You know, where you stare at this thing and it towers over you. That actually ties into a lot of the human reactions in our film, where we want people to be able to look at this thing, stare up at it, and see this sort of godlike figure in front of them—this old lonely god, something from prehistory—and seeing how it affects and changes our characters on their journey. If we were standing right here and a giant hundred-foot tall ape happened, what would go through your brains? How does that change you, How does it affect you?”

Kong’s Home Is Better Defined Than Ever Before

Prior King Kong movies were set on an island of pure fantasy, shrouded in mystery. But Skull Island, for which locations in Australia and Vietnam were used, as well as Hawaii, takes pains to explore the history of the life forms that inhabit it.

“With Kong, because he’s bigger than previous Kongs, we’re getting a little bit more into the sort of backstory of where he came from to some degree, and what this island is and what the ecosystem is on this island, and treating the island itself like a character,” Vogt-Roberts says. “We truly want Skull Island to feel like a tangible, tactile place and that’s why we’re shooting so much of this practically as we go from Hawaii, to Australia, to Vietnam, is to really feel these guys within that space. So it’s a huge help for the actors just to be in real jungles and real settings and things like that. That just adds to that reality when you’re staring up at this completely fictional fake thing.”

Miyazaki Was an Influence on the Film’s Creatures

Anime legend Hayao Miyazaki is known for employing Japanese folklore and legend in his fantasy tales, focusing on the spirit of all living creatures. It’s a philosophy that Vogt-Roberts embraced in populating his jungle kingdom, even as he avoided such staples critters as dinosaurs.

“If Kong is the god of this island, we wanted each of the creatures to feel like individual gods of their own domain,” Vogt-Roberts says. “Miyazaki[‘s] Princess Mononoke was actually a big reference in the way that the spirit creatures sort of have their own domains and fit within that. So a big thing [was] trying to design creatures that felt realistic and could exist in an ecosystem that feels sort of wild and out there, and then also design things that simultaneously felt beautiful and horrifying at the same time. Where if you look at this giant spider or this water buffalo, you stare at it and part of you says, ‘That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!’ and [another part says], ’Oh my God that’s gonna kill me right now and I need to run for my life!’”

He continues, “It’s trying to find that weird balance and really just trying to think outside the box a little bit. Because we want to show audiences new things, and so not have the creatures feel derivative of Jurassic World, or of what they do in the Star Trek movies. They’re too Alien-like, or too H.P. Lovecraft�� My biggest qualm with a lot of movies that I watch is I feel like I’ve seen it before. So we just really wanted to go out of our way to, especially with the other creatures, design things that felt sort of unique to our movie and can exist on the island.”

It’s Not an Origin Story

Despite what fans may have heard, director Vogt-Roberts is quick to point out that Skull Island won’t reveal everything about cinema’s most famous monkey.

“When you watch Predator 2 and you see that Xenomorph skull on the spaceship you’re like, ‘Oh my God!'” he says. “Your brain just goes crazy with all these possibilities. And my favorite thing as a kid watching movies [was] just having all these little things in the background that you pick up on and your brain just goes wild with. So we’re trying to tiptoe a line. There’s a lot of stuff out there that our movie is sort of his origin story, and that’s not really what it is. There’s a lot of background mythology peppered into it as we create our own new mythology… There are not that many good prequels. As soon as you try to over-explain something it tends to lose its magic. We still want to have a wonderful sense of mystery and use it in a way to make our island, and our creature, and Kong’s character feel bigger because you understand some of it, but we’re not trying to pull back the curtain on everything.”

There’s a Good Reason It’s Set in the ‘70s

Wondering why King Kong is heading back to the era of mood rings, moon landings, and Watergate, beyond the obvious appeal of a giant ape swatting away at machine-gun-equipped helicopters?

“What got me really interested in it was thinking about taking characters and the time period in which the world was kind of in chaos, [when] we were sort of one foot in the old guard and one foot in the new guard and people were trying to find their place in the world,” Vogt-Roberts says. “The world was spiraling, right? We were losing wars for the first time, we were in sexual revolutions and racial riots and political scandals. Things were crumbling. Then presenting people with an island that’s untouched by man, something pure in a very impure time, being able to give them a sense of catharsis with this island. And then realizing that we should have never come here.”

He continues, “Magic is one of the most important things in our lives, and the unknown is one of the most important things in our lives, and that wonder that stems from it. Now because everything’s completely accessible to us some of that wonder and some of that magic has vanished. The ’70s was a time that was right at the start of that rift. One of the big sort of conceits with our movie is in the early ’70s we launched a satellite into space for the first time, which was a Landsat satellite, which is a joint venture between NASA and the US Geological Survey. We were legitimately looking down at the Earth for the first time and we were finding places that we had never seen before. So it really sort of stemmed from what we can do with the characters in that time period and showing us something new.”

Samuel L. Jackson Plays Captain Ahab to Kong’s Moby Dick

A world-weary veteran of the Vietnam War returning home after a long tour of duty, Sam Jackson’s U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel Preston Packard has little patience or tolerance for the creatures he encounters when he tasked with escorting a team of explorers across Skull Island.

“My character is that standard for people seeing something that they don’t understand and identifying it as the enemy and not realizing their part in antagonizing that particular thing, and that you’re responsible for making that thing do what it does,” Jackson says. “The thing was doing nothing until you got here, and here you are, and now the thing’s doing something, so what do you think you did to annoy it? Other than show up in its house and decide to disturb everything.”

On his character’s relationship with the Eighth Wonder of the World, Jackson says, “It’s very akin to Ahab and the Whale. At a certain point you got to stand up to this thing that has done so much destruction to you and your people, and he has this idea that this thing is not what’s going to save humanity cause that’s what everybody else’s idea is. This is the thing that’s standing between us and these other things that are a threat to humanity… If us in our infinite, advanced technology, and mental state can’t stop a mindless gigantic ape then our evolution has been for naught. And he does have to exact some measure of revenge for the people he’s lost. That’s just the nature of how we operate—eye for an eye!”

Brie Larson’s Character Is the First to Connect with Kong

Oscar winner Brie Larson portrays photojournalist Mason Weaver, whose recording of the atrocities committed during the Vietnam War is by no means welcomed by Samuel L. Jackson’s army colonel. Fortunately, she has an ally in the great ape.

“I end up with this cast of characters and I have my own sort of motive as to why I’m here,” Larson says. “That’s the interesting thing about this movie. It’s a group of misfits that are all coming from different angles looking at the same thing. You get to see how many different views in regards to nature and how we should handle it are dealt with from many different perspectives. I come in as kind of a background person, one who’s just here to take photos, and as it progresses I have to get a little bit more hands on. Although she’s a war photographer, she’s not really gung-ho about the war, and so she has a point of view that’s different from a lot of the people that she’s surrounded by, and goes into it assuming she could be the only one that has that perspective.”

She continues, “There is so much myth in this, and part of myth is masculine and feminine, anima and animus. So because of her feminine energy I feel like she is a little further ahead in having an interest and respect for nature, and immediately clocks that this is not about man overcoming this creature but working with it and really begins to appreciate it. Through that she has a closer, more loving, and intimate relationship with Kong than with those that are just kind of bulldozing into it.”

Tom Hiddleston Plays a Different Kind of Action Hero

A Vietnam War vet turned tracker for hire, Tom Hiddleston’s James Conrad signs on for the mission to Skull Island with a perspective as unique as his skill set. One more akin to Last of the Mohicans’ Hawkeye than most contemporary action heroes…

“I loved the idea that there’s basically a man who has no political allegiance in the conflict, but he understands conflict,” Hiddleston says. “He’s a former soldier who has been formed by an understanding of war, but his specific skill set is something that’s attached to the power of nature; and I think that’s something people haven’t seen in a long time… [Jordan and I] talked about Conrad having this extraordinary understanding of the natural world, talking about the food chain, the cycle of life, the basic and essential necessity of predators. We started talking about David Attenborough and Planet Earth and suddenly there was this character forming who was very hard, someone who is isolated and mysterious. Isolated by his former experience and deeply charismatic, but when you put him face to face with the fantastical world of King Kong suddenly you have an amazing outline for a hero. It’s the combination of the two, it’s the fact that he has this unique skill set within the group as someone who is indispensable in terms of their survival within the jungle; [and] distinct from the group because he’s British, and therefore he doesn’t have the same spiritual shadow of the Vietnam conflict. And also someone’s whose awe and wonder will be awakened by everything he sees.”

It Brings Kong Back to His Roots

While King Kong may be the cinema’s greatest original myth outside of Star Wars, the roots of Skull Island tap into the same primal elements that informed the original 1933 Kong. Which firmly places it within Tom Hiddleston’s wheelhouse…

“The spine of the film, as many of these huge films are, is really about myth and the power of myth,” Hiddleston says. “That’s what the Jurassic films are about. Whether it’s going back to The Odyssey or The Life of Pi, where basically human beings need to be reminded of how small they are. In the face and scale of the world and the universe. King Kong is one of the biggest movie stars of a hundred years of cinema and he’s always served to remind people in the story and audiences that there are things about our world that are bigger than us that we don’t understand. Conrad comes to embody that humility. Which really appealed to me.”

He continues, “I’ve always been drawn to myth. It’s funny, I don’t mean to make it sound like its more intellectual than it is, but I read classics in university, and the reason I did that was because I found the scale of those Greek and Roman gods and monsters appealing. They appealed to my imagination. Some people prefer stories about human beings in a very human space. I’ve always been very moved and inspired by myth. I love The Odyssey, and I think that’s why I was drawn to play Loki for the first time. It’s about very human feelings on a massive scale. The Thor film is about the breakdown of a household in a city where the gods live. It’s about the size of these stories, and so I’ve never shied away from that in a way. "

Film Audiences Could One Day Return to Skull Island

Even though 2020’s Godzilla vs. Kong is set decades after Kong: Skull Island, and is not expected to take place in the same locale, producer Alex Garcia (who also produced 2014’s Godzilla) tells us that this film isn’t necessarily the final chapter in the remote island’s history…

“It could be, sure!” he says of the possibility of revisiting Kong’s home. “If we pull off this island feeling like a really distinct and unique place, absolutely, it could be revisited later in the timeline for sure.”

#kong skull island #kong: skull island #Article #interview #tom hiddleston #brie larson #samuel l jackson #jordan vogt-roberts

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nevillwallace97 · 4 years ago

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athousandsouls-blog1 · 6 years ago

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⚜ atsco: part thirteen

“...blow wide open”

Summary: Davina spirals out of control and a decision regarding the The Harvest is made.

When she wakes it is dark.

It is automatic for her to turn her head to look at the map, spread out once again on the bedside table.

“Nothing,” Kol mutters. Her entire body tenses and she lets out a squeak. He makes a face from his perch. “You cannot blame that one on me. You knew I was here when you fell asleep — it is not my fault you forgot that fact while you snored.”

She glowers. “I did not snore.”

“You snored a little,” Kol retorts. His feet hit the floor and he stretches. She is left wondering if he had the ability to feel uncomfortable (she can’t quite remember from her days as a ghost). “Feeling better?”

Better isn’t exactly the word she wants to use. After all, this is the day she broke up with her boyfriend (officially, she figures that they were done the minute she left Whitmore without telling him where she was going). Add to that she had been chastised (and rightfully so she concedes) by Elijah. So she is not better as much as she is less weary. “Sure,” she states because she figures that Kol will not understand (or appreciate the difference). “I am starving though. I missed lunch…”

“And dinner,” Kol points out. “Rebekah came to fetch you earlier and found you sprawled out. I think she took pity on you and did not wake you only to subject you to a meal with my horrible brothers.” There is a hint of a smile on his face. “Clever girl.”

“I owe her one,” Bonnie agrees, though she might have suffered through it for the food. She sits up in the bed and stretches her limbs. She’ll have to raid the fridge — if she can find it and if she can avoid picking up a tail or two.

She doesn’t like her odds.

“Do you mind….”

“…continuing my vigil of the mystical map?” Kol finishes. “Hardly. Go on, find yourself something to eat. My promise still stands: if I notice anything you will know right away.”

She doesn’t question their sudden shift to teamwork. Instead she exits her room and surveys the scene below. There are men moving here and there trying their best to clean up the remnants of Davina’s windstorm. She has no doubt that they have been compelled to work mindlessly — it leaves a bad taste in her mouth as she descends the stairs.

She weaves through the disaster zone; hoping instinct will lead her to food. She makes one wrong turn and finds herself in what she can only describe as a wine cellar (in reality, a room filled with every kind of liquor imaginable — a place she commits to memory should this whole thing go south and she feels the need to drink herself stupid). When she finds the kitchen she is surprised at how full it is. Despite knowing better (because of her friendship with vampires), she still forgets that they actually eat. This kitchen would make any chef envious. She is clueless how to even work half the things in it.

She is able to find fresh fruit, some cheese and bread. She craves coffee but she doesn’t dare attempt to press a button on the elaborate looking machine in the corner. It might blow up and draw in an Original vampire. Best to stick to water. She seats herself at the table and begins to pick away at her version of supper.

It is quiet (save for the noise from the courtyard).

It almost feels normal — therefore she knows something is coming.

(Enid Lacour is not the only one with intuition)

Bonnie has nearly cleared her plate when it happens. It begins as a loud shout — Marcel and she knows it is Davina. She pushes back her chair and abandons what is left of her meal. She finds him in the courtyard, clutching a pale Davina to him. She is drenched, her hair matted to the sides of her face and her clothes clinging to her skin. Bonnie’s brows push together and Davina coughs, the sound more like a rattle deep in her chest. Then she does something that reminds Bonnie of the moment this downhill spiral began: she vomits. This time however it is crystal clear water. It hits the courtyard floor with a sickening splat. Around them the workers continue to remove debris as if nothing is happening.

Water — the third element to make its appearance.

Bonnie takes a step forward as Davina’s body lurches and more water erupts from her mouth. Marcel spins so that he is between the pair, his eyes narrowed and anger evident.

“Marcel,” she pleads.

“Back off,” he shouts and she sees the veins under his eyes thicken. He is not going to let her help Davina.

Klaus is the next to arrive, no doubt drawn in by the sound of his protégé speaking in anger. He side steps the growing puddle and looks to Bonnie for an explanation. “She’s choking, Klaus,” Bonnie states the obvious in hopes that he can reason with his unruly child. She knows that Marcel is reacting in panic and in his mind, Bonnie is a threat.

“Lay her on her side, Marcel,” Klaus says and his voice has a level of patience Bonnie did not know existed in him. She holds her breath but thankfully Marcel complies. He lowers Davina to the courtyard floor, cradling her head. The flow of water begins to subside and she takes in deep breaths when she can. There is water in her lungs, Bonnie realizes. She feels helpless and she can only hope it will pass just as the wind did.

“D,” Marcel prompts, his hand running across her back. “Come on, D. Please.”

Bonnie knows she can’t get too close, not without running the risk of Marcel lashing out (and she only has Klaus for backup, not exactly the most trustworthy of allies). Still, she has to act. “Push it out, let it go somewhere else,” she urges. “Don’t even try to hold it in.” She has no idea if it is the right thing to say but then again she has never been faced with a moment such as this. She mentally crosses her fingers and hopes that Davina will be able to push through before she drowns in front of them all.

It takes a moment too long in Bonnie’s books but then she hears Davina’s voice, quiet among the noise around them. “Marcel.” Bonnie’s shoulders sag in relief; an act that Marcel quickly mirrors. He gathers her up in his arms and holds her to his chest. Davina looks blinks and then buries her head in the crook of his neck. “I can’t…I can’t do this anymore…”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Bonnie says immediately, her heart sinking.

“I wondered how long it would take for your agenda to show,” Klaus sneers and there is none of that patience, none of that caring that had been evident only minutes before. Bonnie’s head whips in his direction and her eyes narrow. “Back to pushing the idea that Davina should go through with this ridiculous ritual so that the witches of New Orleans can once again be powerful.”

“That is not why I want her to do this,” Bonnie shoots back. She is sick of Klaus being paranoid. Sick of him wanting to see the worst in her actions. Sick of him refusing to look at the dying girl in Marcel’s arms as nothing more than a bargaining chip to keep an upper hand on the witches. She knows if Klaus has his way, Davina will continue to struggle in her final days and die with no chance to return. “Stop acting as if you know what goes on inside my head, Klaus.”

Klaus turns on her so that the two are practically toe to toe (someone that is becoming a familiar sight within these walls it seems). “I may not know your exact thoughts, sweetheart, but I know your beginnings. I know your pride when it comes to your magical abilities. You may be here to assist my brother in his wild goose chase but you have admitted that it is under duress. Your loyalties lie with the witches.”

There is a measure of truth mixed in all of his accusations. It has to be unraveled and laid out bare — a hard task to do given that Klaus clearly cannot listen to anything but his own thoughts. “I am loyal to a witch,” she corrects and she looks to Davina. “To her.”

“And that kind of loyalty dictates a slaughter,” Klaus retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The word seems to trigger something in Marcel. “No one is killing her,” he states. He wraps his arms tighter around the frightened young girl. Bonnie wishes that none of this had played out the way it has. She may be fighting against a deadline but hearing the Harvest twisted by Klaus’ flawed logic has only set her intentions back. She shakes her head vigorously, wanting to prove to him (more important to Davina) that Klaus is wrong. Before she can even speak, Marcel moves with the speed his supernatural stature has given him. He is out the front door, swinging it open so violently it embeds in the wall.

Of course, he has taken Davina with him.

Bonnie stands there, her mouth agape, the words she had meant to say to them both still on the tip of her tongue. It takes her a moment for her brain to catch up and for her thoughts to die. She is able to refocus, turning her head to look at Klaus. “Congratulations,” she says. She is beyond angry and it comes out in the clipped tone of her voice. “You just sent Davina off to a very real death with your inability to see beyond yourself.”

Mercifully, Klaus has nothing to say in return.

It starts raining soon after Davina’s disappearance.

The sky turns dark and then opens up. The sound of the rain beating off the roof of the Abattoir is shrill and constant. Bonnie knows it is no coincidence. Davina has just has just released a hell of a lot of energy out into the open — it’s got to manifest itself somehow. She is quick to retreat to her room where Kol still stands.

“I take it this was not the weather forecasted for today,” Kol quips.

Bonnie shakes her head as she reaches for her phone. Sophie picks up on the second ring. “It’s Davina, isn’t it?” This time Bonnie can confirm it is. “Dammit, this is happening faster than I thought it would. She doesn’t have much time, Bonnie.”

“I know,” Bonnie says quietly. “I tried to talk to her but she is surrounded by those who can’t understand or who have their own agenda. She doesn’t know me — and I have given her reason not to trust me.” She sinks down onto the bed, feeling defeated.

Sophie must read that in her voice. “It’s not your fault, Bonnie. You stepped into this game far too late. You can’t be blamed for its outcome.”

Comforting words that fall on deaf ears. She knows that she is hard wired to try anything to save the people she cares about. It has both given her purpose and robbed her of so many things. She is trying to remember that she is just one person and is not capable of doing it all. It is not an easy pill to swallow. “You should prepare for the Harvest,” Bonnie finally says.

There is a pause on the other end of the line.

“You said she wouldn’t agree to it,” Sophie points out.

“No, I said that others are trying to think for her,” Bonnie corrects. “She wants to live, Sophie. I haven’t given up hope yet that she’ll realize there is a way to do it.” Surely in the end, Davina Claire will be allowed to choose her own fate. She pauses and then decides that Sophie needs to know. “Marcel took her — he’s gone and I don’t know where. You know him better than I do…”

“…just barely,” Sophie acknowledges. “He has many faces remember: friend, lover, oppressor of witches…”

“Just…if you can think of anywhere he might take her, let me know. Okay?” Bonnie can’t ask much more than that at this point. She glances up to find Kol watching her intently. “I’ll call when I know more.” She tosses her phone on her bed and then takes a deep breath.

“You think she will go through with it?”

“Faith,” Bonnie says wryly.

He gives her a ghost of the smile. “A mystical witch ritual and an army of the dead trying to break free from the Other Side — my, my you do have your plate full.”

Bonnie closes her eyes, and lets out an exasperated chuckle. “Nah, I got this,” she says though she doesn’t believe her own words. She feels like she is barely holding on to any one thing at the moment. If she is not careful, everything is sure to come crashing down in spectacular fashion.

“Just remember that you are not entirely alone in your endeavors. You have resources, people…use them,” Kol instructs. She gives him a look and he merely smiles. “I do not doubt your abilities, little witch; I am just pointing out that you can hardly be expected to handle all of this on your own.”

Fair enough, she concedes (but only in her head of course). She knows Rebekah wants to help with Marcel and that Elijah will do whatever is necessary to protect his family. Add to that — a witch (or two if Enid’s offer to help is to be believed) and a ghost who doesn’t mind map sitting and you officially have Team No Choice But to Work Together.

(the name is a work in progress, she decides)

The wind picks up and slams the rain against her windows. She looks over her shoulder and then back to Kol. “At this rate, we might be swimming by the morning,” she points out.

There is no time to be wasted.

She is looking for Rebekah but finds Klaus instead. He is in the same room where she had done a little extra curricular research on Elijah’s thought process. There is a glass of alcohol dangling from his hand and she does not know if that is a good sign or a bad. He looks up when she steps in. “If you are here to spout indigent statements in righteous tone spare me,” he says before tossing back his drink.

“I would rather spare myself,” she begins. “Since talking to you about most things is akin to talking to a wall.”

The look he gives her is far from friendly.

Bonnie maintains a safe distance (an illusion given how quickly he can move if he is properly motivated). “I was looking for your sister.” Thus far she as struck out and she has to wonder if Rebekah often wanders off on her own to avoid moments such as this.

“Ah, so you are looking for the most sympathetic of us!” He punctuates his statement with a harsh laugh. “Rebekah always does let her emotions get the better of her.”

Bonnie refrains from pointing out that he should try tapping into more than one emotion at a time. She is on a mission and fighting with him will not allow her to achieve her goal. However, without Rebekah she is on her own and she is trying to embrace Kol’s words. So she takes a deep breath and tries a new tactic with him. “Marcel’s yours. You made him — and somehow he is still alive. That tells me he means something to you,” Bonnie begins.

“He’s useful,” Klaus states.

Bonnie wonders if he will ever be able to admit aloud to anyone that he actually cares. She sees through him easily enough and suspects he knows she does. Still, he clings to the idea that everyone around him is just for show and wholly disposable should the mood strike. “Look, at this rate Marcel is going to be the last thing Davina sees before she dies. I don’t know what that will do to him. He might not be as useful if he exposes the vampire community to the people of New Orleans in his grief. You might want to find him,” she states evenly and then turns her back. She has almost walked through the doorway when he speaks.

“I’ll keep that under advisement.”

She stands in front of the bedside table looking down at the map as if she is expecting it to reveal its secret. She almost feels as if it is laughing at her at the moment — a silly thought considering it is an inanimate object.

“If looks could kill, that thing would have already given up everything,” Kol assures her as he comes to stand next to you. “I commend you for your effort however.”

Bonnie huffs in frustration. “I can’t just stand here knowing that Davina is out there and this thing is about to blow wide open.”

“And what do you propose?” Kol asks as he glances toward the windows. The rain continues to beat against it in sheets. “You swim the streets of New Orleans in search of where Marcel could have hidden the tiny witch?”

Bonnie shoots him a look. Now is not the time for Kol’s unique brand of sarcasm. Instead of dignifying that with an answer, she grabs her coat and slips into it. It will hardly do against the onslaught beyond the walls of the compound — it’s merely for show.

Kol tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “Not even ten minutes ago we had a discussion about how you cannot just take on everything on your own. I am so glad to see that it sunk through that thick skull of yours.”

“It did,” she assures him as she zippers the jacket. She finds herself wishing it had a hood. “But then I had a lovely conversation with your brother, who proved that he is utterly useless unless it serves his own selfish needs.” After she stuffs her phone in her pocket, she turns to face Kol once again. “I can’t just stand around and wait. I don’t do that very well. You shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you’re the one who noticed a pattern. One little pep talk from someone I don’t like very much is not going to change a behavior that has probably ingrained itself into my DNA. I know someone needs help; so I help them.”

She cannot read the look on Kol’s face. His chin is elevated and he is regarding her through hooded eyes. “One day I sincerely hope that you learn to put yourself first.”

Fat chance.

She is soaked to the bone in under a minute.

The water runs in the streets and pools in the dips and bumps. It is whipped around by the wind, slamming against businesses and homes. What was once a busy lane is nearly empty, save for those rushing for a warm dry place. Some laugh and screech as they dodge and weave while others look worried (they must instinctively know this isn’t right).

Bonnie just walks.

She has no clear destination in mind. She just needs to keep moving, look for any signs as to where Davina is. Her arms are wrapped tightly around herself and she shivers (ghosts might not be able to feel the cold but the anchor can). She blinks to try and keep the rain from flooding her vision. She can barely see two feet in front of her — how is she supposed to look for that all important clue (that needle in a haystack that is threatening to wash away)? Still she doesn’t turn around and head back to the Abattoir.

(she can’t admit defeat)

She dips under the awning of a café, though it does little to protect her already soaked frame. She tells herself she can have a minute (one whole minute) to feel helpless. Then she has to move on – make a list of possible locations, possible people to speak to.

Her phone rings.

She fishes it from her jacket and glances at the ID. Caroline. Funny, she has just been thinking about her friend (in a roundabout way; lists are Caroline’s forte after all). She doesn’t think twice. She answers the call.

“Good,” Caroline chirps. “Had you ignored me, I would have started hunting you down.”

“You wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Bonnie reminds her (though she is both terrified and touched by the thought of Caroline searching for her).

“I’m immortal, remember? I have got nothing but time,” Caroline tells her. “How are you?”

It doesn’t take a genius. “You talked to Jeremy,” Bonnie says.

“Yes,” Caroline answers. “And no.” There is a pause. “I went to Tyler’s earlier today. To return a box of his stuff. You know the usual thing you do after a breakup. I have been trying to persuade Elena to do the same but she is not ready to let go of Damon. I doubt she ever will be…” Another pause. “That is not the point…”

“No, no, I’m sorry I am not there. I know how hard that must have been. Going to see Tyler.” Bonnie leans against the side of the café and closes her eyes. She feels that guilt again and wonders if she will ever be able to escape it. “How did it go?”

“Alright.” Caroline sounds her usual upbeat self and Bonnie finds that she believes her. “I mean, it sucks in a way but it also helps close that chapter. I think…maybe down the road, a long way down the road, Tyler and I might be able to be friends. I’d like that.” There is an intake of breath followed by a loud whoosh. “I saw Jeremy. He was there. He was…drunk.”

Bonnie winces. “Oh God.”

“He told me what happened between the two of you,” Caroline says. “How you’re off God knows where putting your life at risk…”

“I can’t die,” Bonnie reminds her.

“But you can feel pain,” Caroline is quick to point out. “I won’t ask because I know you won’t tell me. I won’t pretend to be okay with that, because I am not. That’s why I waited a few hours to call. Our first conversation, played entirely in my head by the way, did not go like this.”

Bonnie can picture it. It does not go well for her. “Thank you for waiting,” she says truthfully.

“You owe me for that,” Caroline says decisively. Bonnie does not argue. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Bonnie promises, though she doesn’t think she is fully telling the truth. “I know this isn’t fair to you…”

“It’s not, but that’s not the real issue at hand,” Caroline states. “It’s not fair to you either. You need a break from playing savoir. Hopefully after this, whatever this is, you’ll get it.”

“I am counting on it,” Bonnie confesses. Her head dips and there is heaviness in her chest. “I really am.”

“Good,” Caroline quips. “It means you are thinking of yourself more. Call me — let’s say at least twice a week. Anything less and I am making good on my threat to find you. You know me, Bonnie, I can do it.”

Despite everything she laughs. “You can — and you will. Twice a week, I promise.” She’ll keep that promise too because she hasn’t realized until now just how much she needs to hear Caroline’s voice. “I love you.”

Caroline doesn’t even wait a beat. “I love you too.”

A minute later she is pocketing her phone again. She is no closer to finding Davina but she doesn’t feel as defeated as she did earlier. She takes a deep breath, and steps from underneath the awning. Rain pelts her once more but she pushes forward with her head down. She manages to walk in that fashion for nearly a block before a voice stops her dead in her tracks.

“Oi! Look where you are going before you get yourself struck by a car!”

Bonnie turns to find Rebekah not that far behind her. Her head tilts and she realizes she has almost stepped blindly onto a street.

“Bloody fool,” Rebekah quips and doesn’t even pretend to do so under her breath. She is holding an umbrella, which is moderately more effective than Bonnie’s jacket. She moves so she is standing next to Bonnie. “Lovely evening for a stroll.”

“I am not out for a pleasure walk…”

Rebekah holds up a hand to effectively silence her. “I know,” she begins. “I had a run in with my darling brother. He has brought me up to speed. I am here to tell you that you will not find Marcel wandering the streets in the manner that you are. This city is his home. He knows it better than anyone I wager. He will have hidden himself well.”

Bonnie hates that Rebekah is vocalizing what she already knows. She closes her eyes, her chest rising slowly before it falls again. “So that’s it? We just leave her…”

“You like to jump to conclusions don’t you?” Rebekah makes a face. “Having some intimate knowledge of Marcel, I have a few ideas. However, I am not interested in discussing on a street corner as the water ruins my shoes. Come along.”

Bonnie has no other choice but to follow Rebekah. She moves with purpose and Bonnie finds herself surprised when they land on the doorstep of Rousseau’s. She gives Rebekah a look.

The blonde merely shrugs. “Thinking of this magnitude requires alcohol.” She pushes the door open and disappears inside.

Bonnie’s hand moves to stop the door from slamming in her face. She steps into the bar and is surprised to find it empty save Cami, who looks surprised she has customers. “Hi,” she says suddenly feeling awkward.

“You look like you’ve taken a swim in the Mississippi,” Cami points out. She isn’t long pulled down two glasses and filling it with a dark liquor. “And in desperate need of this.”

“Nik is right…” With that mention, Cami freezes and Bonnie swears her eyes darken. Rebekah doesn’t notice (or doesn’t care). “…you are an excellent read of people.” She takes the glasses and moves towards a booth.

Bonnie is left standing at the bar. She waits a beat and then leans in. “Is Sophie here?”

Cami shakes her head. “She left not long after the rain started. Said it was important. I am holding down the fort until it becomes painfully obvious that everyone is doing the smart thing and staying in for the night.”

Good, Bonnie thinks. Sophie is preparing for the Harvest like she said. She manages a smile for Cami. “Thanks.” Then she moves to sit across from Rebekah. The blonde Original slides a glass in her direction but Bonnie does not reach for it. “You said you had some ideas?”

“Yes,” Rebekah answers. “Marcel…” There is a pause so Rebekah can take a rather large swig of her drink. “We began our doomed romance when he was still human. My brother forbade it of course. Why should I be happy? A reoccurring theme in our long history by the way. Anyway, to avoid detection we would steal away. Find places to be together. Those places no longer look as they once did but I am willing to bet that they still have sentimental value to him.”

“And just…how many secret places did you two lovebirds have?”

“More than we should have. But we were hiding from Nik. He makes things impossibly hard as you know. Hence why we are sitting here, having a drink. I am going do my best to narrow it down.” What follows next is a verbal trip down memory lane. Rebekah names various locations and the bit of romance that goes with it. Some are immediately dismissed while others are put on a short list. When she lists off the location where she and Marcel made love for the first time, Bonnie finally takes her drink. “Perhaps there.”

“It does…seem sentimental,” Bonnie states after empties half the glass.

“Yes,” Rebekah agrees and rises. “We’ll start there.”

Bonnie finishes the rest of her drink and stands. She gets maybe two or three steps before the door opens again. Her eyes narrow on reflex. Klaus. The entirety of their confrontation this evening is quick to playback in her mind. “If you’re here to stop us then save your breath,” Bonnie spits.

He doesn’t acknowledge her words. At least not in the way she has expected. He is soaked to the bone just as she is. Water runs down his face and he doesn’t move beyond the door. “You two better come with me.” There is no hint of malicious glee in his tone (Bonnie is used to that); nor is there anger. He speaks in a matter of fact manner. “Quickly.”

“You’ve found Marcel,” Rebekah deduces.

Klaus gives a nod of his head and Bonnie’s features furrow together in confusion. He sees this. “I did tell you that I would take your advice under advisement. In the end, however, it was not hard to locate him.” He gestures towards the door. “Come along before he gets it in his head to hide again.” Bonnie decides not to question him at the moment. She weaves through the empty tables of Rousseau’s. Rebekah is on her heels. Klaus takes a moment to glance in the direction of Cami. “Be careful when you leave for the night. It is not safe at the moment.”

“Go to hell,” Cami answer decisively.

Klaus presses his lips together and then they exit into the rain.

“You really pissed her off,” Bonnie states but knows that is a story for another day (if it will be even shared at all). “What do you mean, Klaus? When you said it wasn’t hard to find him.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

Despite the rain, the entire building is engulfed in flames.

She had seen the smoke, black and curling into the sky, long before she laid eyes on it. Now she stands somewhat dumbstruck even as the sirens grow louder. “Oh my God,” she breathes. Fire — the last element. Not even a few hours have passed since water had filled Davina’s lungs and tried to drown her from within. “They’re not in there are they?” She asked, panicked at the thought.

Rebekah seems equally distressed. Her head is tilted and the orange hue of the fire stains her skin. “We were going to build a home here…” She breathes. “Our safe haven. I should have thought of it first.”

Klaus says nothing of his sister’s reference to the romance he denied her. Instead he focuses on Bonnie’s question. “It won’t die. The fire. That’s how I knew,” he tells her.

“Where are they, Klaus? Where is Marcel?” Rebekah asks and panic seems to have set in.

Klaus is quick to turn their attention to the pair huddled together on the seats of an outdoor café. Both she and Rebekah heave a sigh of relief. “It went quick according to Marcel. One moment they were fine; the next they were surrounded. I helped them and in doing so, I believe I heard the little witch make a decision.” He gives Bonnie a pointed look.

She takes the cue and moves quickly across the street, away from the heat of the fire. Davina is wrapped in Marcel’s arms, her eyes wide as she takes in the destruction she has caused. She shivers, no doubt more from the magic within her than the cold. When she sees Bonnie she shifts, pulling herself into a seat position. Her eyelids flutter for a second and then she looks up at Marcel.

He is staring straight ahead.

Davina takes a deep breath, obviously upset but the current state of her protector. “I almost got him killed, Bonnie,” she whispers quietly. Marcel tenses but she ignores it to push forward. “I meant what I said earlier — I can’t do this anymore. I can’t put anyone else in danger and I can’t ignore the reality of this all.” She frees herself from Marcel’s grasp and stands on shaky legs. “You told me I had a choice and I making it. No more arguments. No more trying to talk me out of it.”

Marcel’s head falls.

“I am ready, Bonnie. For the Harvest.”

#{atsco: chapter}

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