#kinda? I guess. it’s not a usual suspects AU I just like this scene

[aevris]

i de-furried him. sorry. (not sure if I’ll finish rendering this)

[n7punk]

It’s kind of a shame that your most popular fics are the more expkicit ones. I mean, I get it, but still! All your fics are great, you can just really see where ppls priorities are in the hit counts lol

this is super long sorry i had Many Thots.

honestly that could be a false correlation. at the top of my views are my long form AUs, and a lot of those are explicit (the non-explicit ones being ditm, the greys, 3m2, lotd, wdtfd, mnohl, tdhfy, & reflection - and only 3 of those are T, with the rest being M). long form fics get recommended more and they naturally have a higher view count because for one person to read to the end of one with 10 chapters, they have to view it 10 times. a lot of my T-M AUs are shorter (longest being 7 chapters) than my E AUs (the longest being 23 chapters....) so they get less views.

additionally, i think all of those T/M AUs except ditm, the greys, & maybe 3m2 were posted after ao3 changed how it counts views (only counting them from logged in users, not guests), so all fics posted after that date have a lower view count because a lot fewer are registering. i dont remember exactly when this happened, but thats a factor. a lot of the lower rated stuff is newer, so it has had less time to rack up views (not to mention the number of engaged fans in the catradora fandom naturally shrinking some as time passes from the end of the show).

for all these reasons, i would mostly look for correlation when it comes to one shots. There, you do see a lot of the explicit fics near the top, but i think you see something interesting if you sort by kudos instead. one shots are put on more even footing with long fics and you get an idea of how many individual people liked a story (now, you no longer get an idea of how many times they went back to reread it, which is a factor in enjoyment, and there's still the "sharing" bias for long fics, but i digress).

if you sort by kudos, you suddenly see a lot less bias for explicit ones (in fact, i would say its gone, given like a third of my fics are explicit). for instance, 3m2 becomes my 5th most popular fic.

this kind of leads to my final theory, which is that people are more likely to "reread" an explicit fic. because, well, they already know the plot, so they are less likely to randomly decide to reread that, but they are drawn back to the smut when they want to... be horny. anyway, ive suspected this is a phenomenon for a long time and looking at the view counts now, i definitely feel it has weight.

this makes the explicit fics seem more popular, and i guess you could argue they are, but if somebody is coming back just to read the smut, i dont know that really counts as them "rereading". its possible they'll then be like "oh yeah, i like this" and reread the whole thing, but it all depends what you put weight in personally.

so yeah. fic popularity is hard to rate. i kinda went off there but tldr, i don't think it's so much a correlation in popularity as it is in hit count.

now (i know, more after the tldr, i have a lot of Thots), i will say i think there is a bias in writers (me, at least) to make long form things explicit. i know for a fact there are people who look at an 80k fic that's rated T and go "why am i gonna get that invested and they dont even fuck at the end", so they skip that fic. this can be solved by including just one smut scene and not a bunch of them, but i also know for me personally, i would rather have multiple or none, because it feels like a waste to rate it E for one scene knowing that's also boxing out the people who dont like to read smut.

I'm also not so interested in writing "smut for smut's sake" so i usually only include it as part of a larger narrative where the plot just happens to include fucking (or it allows me to explore the characters in a new way). In general, i've really been feeling M fics lately because I feel like I can write whatever I want and still get most of the plot impact of smut, but I don't "have to" actually write it, which I just haven't been interested in.

I dont know if people who dont want smut also filter out M fics (i know before i started posting myself i didnt know the difference between M and E), but as i've said many times, i'm writing for myself, so how much i care runs out there if they do lmao. the fic that's upcoming is T, to be clear, this is just where i am generally.

[johannas-motivational-insults]

Jo’s Top 10 of 2020

I see lots of artists doing that thing where they post a piece from each month of the year... unfortunately my content creation isn’t necessarily consistent and it’s hard to track what month individual fic chapters were posted in, but I figured I’d do something similar and post my Top 10 pieces of content I created in 2020, what they’re about and why I love them. I actually did get a fair amount done this year thanks to the lockdown, but I’ve narrowed it down to these ten that I’d like to reflect on. (To be fair, I’m probably forgetting something huge. Feel free to leave comments if you think I passed over something important lol.)

10. Friendship in the Horde (meta): This is something I’d wanted to write for a while but finally got around to finishing in February. It’s basically a sociology paper lmao, an analysis of the social hierarchies and systems of the Horde. It was also a convenient excuse for me to gush about Catralonnie, an underrated (friend)ship. But honestly this was an important piece for me because I have always identified with the Horde characters way more than any of the rebels (other than Adora, who grew up in the Horde) and part of why is how they are in an unsafe environment and end up forming relationships that are helpful for survival but hinder them psychologically. And I think to understand the Horde characters and really evaluate their motives and choices you need to understand this first.

9. The Sting in My Eyes: On the surface this is just a run of the mill hurt/comfort oneshot, but it was a really important post-canon processing fic for me. I had a lot of feelings about Catra’s relationships with Shadow Weaver and Melog in season 5, particularly about how Catra must have felt really conflicted after Shadow Weaver told her what she wanted to hear all those years but in a way that felt unearned and out of the blue. It was really cathartic for me to write a scene where she struggles with those mixed feelings but has Adora and Melog to help her process them. And I had long associated the song the title is from with Catra and Shadow Weaver’s relationship, and the way she died trying to redeem herself really solidified that connection.

8. Hail Mary, chapter 6: This was supposed to be a short chapter mostly about the backstory between Catra and Scorpia in this au, with some Catradora yearning thrown in. It evolved into a massive, sprawling thing that is very atmospheric in terms of how the setting and vibes are described and how in the moment it feels. Hail Mary is like that sometimes but that type of narration is usually about football games rather than parties, so this chapter was a fun change of pace in many ways. It was really nostaglic for me to write too, the nerves of being a teenager at a party with your crush and how intense everything feels. And the Scorptra stuff really is delicious, it was nice seeing them have that conversation they never got to have in canon and truly make up, and the tiny sliver I added of Catra’s earlier history was heartbreaking in the best way. So this was not what I intended to write, but it turned out way better for it.

7. A Better Son or Daughter (AMV): I’ve done other Adora AMVs, but this one is really my iconic piece. The song is perfect for Adora, so perfect it’s on Noelle’s Adora playlist. The vid itself is a character study about Adora’s mental health struggles and the way she represses them, as well as a tribute to her resiliency and her eventual triumph of getting to a better place in her life. This is a song that gives me a lot of feelings and once I was making it about Adora it gave me even more, so this was a very satisfying piece to complete. I wish Noelle had gotten a chance to see it but oh well, maybe down the line.

6. Hail Mary, chapter 12: This is the chapter that much of the fic had been building to, Catra and Adora in conflict because Catra finally got the chance to be Adora’s hero and Adora shot her down. It’s painfully analogous to canon, both in terms of how (I suspect) Catra felt in Thaymor and Adora’s tendency to victim blame because she’s so pragmatic. There’s definitely some tones of Taking Control in there but Lonnie does a much better job of examining Catra’s psychology and needs than Glimmer did in canon (a writing error imo, Glimmer should have had more insight). Adora just wants to help but sometimes in her quest to do so she disenfranchises others, and this was a much needed look at that aspect of her character. It’s also an excellent illustration of what it’s like to play a peacekeeping role in an abusive household and how stressful it is trying to protect others while also protecting yourself.

5. Unstoppable (AMV): This is not my favorite Catra AMV I’ve ever done, but it might be the cleverest. The soundtrack is a song about mental illness masquerading as a song about being a bad bitch, which is basically Catra in a nutshell. The lyrics are incredibly fitting for her and her arc as it develops over seasons 1-4. The vid itself takes a hard turn in the interpretation of the lyrics, going from talking about how no one can stop Catra to how she can’t stop herself because she’s in such a terrible sunk cost fallacy spiral, and I think I got several death threats over that twist lmao. As someone who primarily deals in angst, there’s hardly a better compliment to be paid.

4. Demons, chapter 31: This one got real dark on me. The concept of this chapter was originally an examination of how comparing abuse can get really dicey but you also have to respect that other people have had different experiences from you and you have to be careful not to equate things or make it sound like you’re talking over someone else. I guess it’s also a bit of a look at how autistic people (like myself) will often explain why they can empathize so others know they understand rather than saying empty platitudes, but that can come off as insensitive or like they’re making things about them. I mean, in this case Adora kinda was making things about her, but she was provoked into it by a parade of comments insinuating she didn’t suffer at all, which was also unfair. Anyway it’s one of the more important Catradora fights in Demons and something I’d written bits of over a year prior, it was that important to the plot, but it also took a turn I was not originally planning. I finished the chapter when I was in a really bad depressive and self-loathing spiral and that bled onto the page, but it worked perfectly for Catra in this scenario... that push and pull of feeling like the world has hurt and victimized you mixed with knowing you’ve done some bad things yourself and feeling like you don’t have a leg to stand on when mourning the ways you’ve been hurt. It’s intense as all fuck but it’s excellent.

3. Hail Mary, chapter 11: Speaking of dark Catra content, this chapter... whew. It was really something else, to read and to write. I have written flashbacks in Demons that are more detailed and even include explicit violence but because those scenes are always in flashback form I never really got the chance to sit in the head of an abuse victim waiting for the other shoe to drop for an entire chapter like I did here. It’s quite different from the rest of Hail Mary stylistically and is both highly sensory and extremely internalized. It took me back to some terrifying moments in my own life so it was difficult but also extremely cathartic to write. It’s important too because it really sets up where Catra was at mentally heading into her big fight with Adora, and that chapter is in Adora POV. This chapter is ranked so high simply because it’s... polished, as @malachi-walker put it. It almost is its own story within the story and really noteworthy as a piece all its own.

2. Demons, chapter 26: This chapter is very similar thematically to Hail Mary 12, just based in the canonverse. It deals with one of the core (but highly neglected by fandom) conflicts between Catra and Adora, where they both need to feel like they can take care of and protect the other but also detest feeling weak or vulnerable themselves. It leads to Adora’s ego making Catra feel disrespected and Catra’s behavior confusing Adora and making her think she’s an ungrateful brat rather than someone who needs so badly to be needed, just like her. There’s definitely some power struggles in this chapter but finally they’re able to get to the heart of it and seeing them talk it out is so satisfying. Getting this chapter published was also important to me on a personal level because, like I said, this aspect of their conflict and relationship is rarely acknowleged for how important it is when really it’s one of the deepest conflicts between them in the series. It’s a scene I started writing pretty much as soon I knew I was extending the fic into something longer because I just needed them to have this conversation, so finishing it was so satisfying.

1. Satisfaction, chapter 3: This chapter took me a really long time to write, both in terms of time to get it published and time I actually spent working on it. It’s the crown jewel of a fic that’s really important to me and I had to get it just right, so I spent more time agonizing over every detail and rewriting things to get them absolutely perfect than I usually do (I’m a perfectionist anyway, but this took it to a whole other level). But in the end it was worth it, because this chapter is damn fine. It’s really hot, as you’d expect from a smut fic, but it’s also an excellent character study of how both Catra and Adora were affected by their abuse and trauma and the issues it raises for them in terms of sex and intimacy. Also, come on, we need more BDSM fics out there that focus on the actual point of it all (the trust involved) and promote communication and do the character work to explain why they might be into it in the first place.

BONUS (from December 31, 2019): One of my favorite pieces of 2020 technically came out in 2019, but I posted it on New Years Eve so most people first saw it in 2020. It’s an absolute banger of an AMV called I’m Not Jesus that’s all about Catra and Adora’s anger towards Shadow Weaver and their refusal to forgive their abuser. Funny enough this came out before Adora’s iconic “I will never forgive you” line, and Shadow Weaver definitely made things more complicated with how she went out, but I think the sentiment still applies.

[kabira]

08 | distance

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.5k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — minor violence

note — ok so this was kinda later than scheduled (three WEEKS) but the next update will hopefully be on time so i can keep up! by which i mean sunday 6 am (ist). also, for the love of god, tumblr make this show up in the tags. pretty, pretty please.

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

“Okay, so here’s what I found out about your Rhino guy,” Yeji said, jumping over the side of the rooftop and landing on another, hitting the ground with a roll before coming up on her feet. They were currently involved in a high-speed chase, which meant she had to yell at the top of her voice for Vernon to hear her—not that it mattered a lot. Up here, no one could hear you scream. “He’s Russian. Name’s Alexei Sytsevich.”

“Russian, huh?” Vernon yelled back. He swung over a tall rooftop garden, taking care not to accidentally knock over something he wasn’t supposed to. “Anything that could tie him to Osborn?”

“Not really!” Yeji yelled. “His identity is public, so anyone could get to him, and he must have happened to have been around when he attacked you. But there’s nothing concrete we could go after.”

The two of them were chasing Batroc the Leaper across the top of the buildings, having caught up with him just moments after he robbed a store. A basic assignment, really, but it was still a challenge to apprehend him before he got too far from the crime scene. One of their more casual operations, much like a training session, except this was the real deal.

“Anything of interest?” Vernon asked. They were close to catching their quarry, very close. Batroc wasn’t really that notorious in the underworld, but he was still a menace and technically a criminal. A more notable point of interest were the mechanical leaping legs attached to both his feet which allowed him to jump several feet high in the air, making for a good old-fashioned superhuman chase scene.

“He was experimented on with this gamma radiation technique to give him superhuman strength and durability, but it ended in an accident,” Yeji answered. Her voice, apart from the strain due to the yelling, sounded strangely relaxed for someone who was chasing a guy across the tops of buildings. Even after having time to get used to it, Vernon was still surprised by her resilience. “The suit he was wearing that day—remember how it was made of some kind of self-regenerating polymer? It’s literally stuck to his skin. Can’t get it off him.”

“Must be constipated; it explains the anger issues.”

Just then, Yeji caught up to the Leaper. She sprung off a ledge and onto the top of a water tanker, from where she dived towards the unsuspecting criminal, flattening him to the ground. Vernon swung up to her, landing on the ground next to her. Batroc tried to wiggle away, but Vernon webbed his hands and feet to the rooftop, successfully trapping him. “So,” he said, turning his attention back to Yeji. “Any idea where they’re keeping him?”

“If you’re wondering if he’s being kept anywhere close to Osborn, don’t worry.” She placed her hands on her hips. It looked strangely satisfying, her claws aligned with the gray markings around the waist of her white suit. “Rhino’s placed in the Helicarrier for now, but in a special ward designed specifically for the big guys, though th They have specialists looking into his, er, sticky situation, but he’s on an entirely different level than Norman. And I mean that quite literally.”

He nodded. “Did the files mention which specialists are looking into it?”

“Eez it perhaps—” Batroc started.

Vernon webbed his mouth. “Zip it,” he said.

“No. The only files I could access didn’t have much on him,” Yeji said, sounding genuinely sorry. “There was other stuff, like his eye color and his blood type, but I don’t think you’d be very interested in all of that.”

“You think right.”

“There might be more details in the confidential reports coming in from the Helicarrier holder itself, but getting them would be a lot of trouble,” she said. “Although if you really want them—”

“No, it doesn’t matter,” Vernon said, shaking his head. “Thanks for digging up the rest, though. I owe you one.”

“Consider it early payback for when your Aunt May teaches me how to beat your ass at video games.” He couldn’t see her face, but he sensed that underneath the mask, she was smiling.

“Hey, that’s an Aunt May thing, not a me thing,” he said, then paused, hesitating. There was something else he had wanted to ask her, but he didn’t know if he really wanted to follow through with it. “Hey, Tiger…” he trailed off. “Actually, never mind.”

“No, go ahead,” she said. “Unless you’d rather not.”

He shook his head slightly. “It’s not like that,” he said. “This might sound kind of intrusive, but do you know the deal with Fe—Iceman?” he asked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s great and everything, but with all the brooding and the secrecy, I’m just a little—” He scrunched up his nose. “That does sound intrusive.”

“It does,” she agreed, but it sounded amused. “Look, I’d tell you. I really would. But it’s something I feel he should tell you yourself, you know? If and when he’s comfortable talking to you about it.”

“Did he tell you?”

“No, I just kind of figured it out.” She sounded a little sheepish. “And maybe I got it out of one of the IT guys.”

He looked at her, amused. “They have IT guys at S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Well, I guess they’re not IT guys in the strictest sense,” she mused. “There’s a hierarchy of ranks even within the record regulators, so it’s a little hard to explain. Not that it really matters, anyway.”

“It would be kind of cool if S.H.I.E.L.D. needed IT guys,” Vernon said, looking down at Batroc, except he wasn’t really looking at him, but through him. “Unrealistic, though.”

Yeji shook her head slightly, like she was unable to believe they were having this conversation. Or maybe he was just projecting his own amused disbelief onto her. But he noticed the tenseness of her shoulders and she let her arms fall to her sides, as if she was holding in a laugh. It was one of those conversations that took a turn that didn’t even have to be funny to make you laugh.

“Good talk,” she said, and this time he could actually hear the smile in her voice. “Now let’s get this guy back to the carrier.”

Luce knew something was up.

She had known this for a while now—about a year, in fact. She had only just started to suspect it when Vernon had changed, and Joshua had gotten secretive, and Harry had first started floating away. It had come one after the other, like the three of them were carrying out parts in a play and she was in the audience, watching but unable to take part. Change, and secrecy, and distance.

She liked distance. Luce had always been distant, someone who stood in the crowd and yet apart from it, unwelcome and unsettling for most around her. Eccentric, some called her, or strange, or downright creepy. It never really mattered to her, because for her, it had always been just the four of them—Vernon, Joshua, Harry and her—and even after everything that had happened, they still felt like four. Three people with a ghost in between, still shaking his head at their dumb jokes and still taking the best seat in the Parker living room when they had movie night.

Looking back, she realized that the cracks in their relationship had first appeared a year ago. Often, after Harry died, she thought about how they had collectively ignored those fractures in their friendship, that had come in the form of change and secrets and distance.

The first to change had been Vernon, of course—trading his glasses for unexplained bruises, his mysterious disappearances poorly covered up and rarely questioned. Then Joshua—the two of them with their heads together in the hallways, shooting each other knowing looks that shut everyone out. It felt like it was just the two of them sometimes, Luce and Harry often forgotten during their closed conversations. That was probably what had pushed them together, but now that Harry was gone, she was left alone. Still on the outside, trying to look in, but in vain.

She knew she couldn’t blame Vernon and Joshua for it, she had started to blend into the background a little more with every passing day. Catching one without the other was hard, so at some point she stopped trying, letting them find her whenever they felt like it. Sometimes she felt like a ghost, too, lurking in a ruined castle, only seen when a wanderer needed shelter.

Now, it was all happening again. The arrival of the new kids had seemed like a minor disturbance at first, like a tiny cloud on the wide horizon, but Vernon had warmed up to them surprisingly quickly after his initial coldness. It wasn’t that Luce didn’t like them—after all, she had been the one to initiate first contact—but she had still been taken aback by how quickly they had become a part of their little group of three (and a dead boy, but he didn’t take up seats anymore).

Except they didn’t feel like it. Not to her, and probably not to Joshua either, whom she had seen watch the new trio with lingering looks when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She was a little surprised by her own reserve, because the arrival of more people should have been a good sign. More people, even numbers, pairs, so she wouldn’t be a third wheel anymore. But it hadn’t worked out that way—she was still stuck outside, but this time Joshua was stuck with her.

It was hard not to be even a little mournful.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she called as Vernon walked past her in the school hallway after fifth period, looking distracted as he usually did these days. He turned, surprised, as if he hadn’t even noticed her there.

“Me?” he asked, looking confused, and she sighed internally. On the outside, she simply shook her head as if in amused exasperation, reaching into her bag and taking out a spiral notebook.

“Notes. From Physics.” She handed it to him, and he stared at the cover for a dazed little moment before looking back up at her. “You missed another class today.”

“Right,” he muttered, giving her a grateful smile. Fifteen seconds had passed already, about five seconds less than the longest conversation they had held in two weeks. He probably hadn’t even realized. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, meaning it. No point in moping after something that hadn’t been for months. She leaned against the locker door and folded her arms across her chest. The zips along the cuffs of her jacket pulled against the leather. “Going somewhere?”

“Not really.” He shrugged. The smile was still on his face, that stupidly delightful half-smile that still felt like it was behind a glass wall. “Are you?”

Am I ever? She shook her head. “Where did you go?” she asked instead of answering his question.

He frowned. “Where did I go…when?”

“During physics,” she clarified. “You’ve been disappearing a lot lately.”

“Oh, you know…” he started, trying hard to keep his voice casual. “Places.”

It was hard not to smile. “Like?”

“The principal’s office,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.

“The new guy?” Luce raised her eyebrows. “Did you do something to piss him off? Get a low grade?”

“Of course not,” Vernon said indignantly. “My scores are perfect.”

“I know. The rest of us on the curve are suffering because of it.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least. Instead, there was a small smile on his face that looked suspiciously like a smirk.

Almost a minute now. Luce let the back of her head hit the locker door, finally letting herself believe that he wasn’t going anywhere, not this time around. The feeling that came with it was so warm and delicious that it spread inside her chest like hot water, reaching her toes and fingers and the tip of her nose. “You’re not sorry,” she said with a smile, though she didn’t really mind. “Are we still on for Friday?”

Now Vernon’s smirk dropped, replaced by a split-second look of horror. “Friday?” he echoed. “This is going to sound bad, but I don’t—”

“Movie night,” she supplied. “And don’t worry, I didn’t expect you to remember. The last time we talked about that was a while ago, anyway.”

Movie night, or game night, was their irregular childhood tradition that had become increasingly infrequent over the past few years, but particularly so in the last year. Even then, they’d never gone this long without getting together at least once. The last time they’d done something like that together, it had been almost two months ago, when they had still been four.

When Luce finally mentioned it, she felt strange thinking about the prospect of movie night with only three people. It felt odd. Unnatural. Three felt like the wrong number, like fates and the prongs of a pitchfork. Too little.

“Tell you what,” she said, pulling herself out of her thoughts with difficulty. She did that too much, lose herself in her memories or some random vein of thought and manage to completely detach herself from the world around her. It got harder and harder every time, and sometimes she wondered if one day she was just going to be trapped in her own mind.

“What?” Vernon asked. He had that distracted look on his face again, his posture jumpy like there was extra energy wrapped into his body.

“Why don’t you bring Yeji and the others along this time?” she suggested. Six wasn’t that great of a number either, but it was definitely better than three. And maybe this way she’d be able to get to know the others a little better, pull herself back to reality. “I’m sure they’d like to. And that way, it’ll be an even team.”

“Not if May decides to join in again.”

She smiled. “Then maybe I’ll bring Hairball.”

He groaned. “Oh, no, not Hairball,” he said, eyes refocusing on her face. There was such a vibrant intensity in his gaze that it made her want to stand up straighter. Then he smiled, and she actually had to stand up straight. “You sure, though?”

Of course he would ask her. Vernon Parker, despite all his bodily changes, was still the same guy from fourth grade who always let her have the rest of his lunch—if he managed to keep it from Flash. Luce was almost tempted to reconsider, but she saw the earnest look on his face, the slight arch of his eyebrows, and swallowed the words that welled up in her throat.

“Of course,” she said. “Three’s already a crowd, so we might as well have a whole party.”

“A party, huh?” He winced. “That reminds me. Food.”

“We’ll order from Larry’s.”

“I’ll have to decide if they deserve it yet,” he joked. At least, she thought he was joking. “See you on Friday.”

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Scene Stealers

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin

Warnings: mild language, they both go through a lot of angst, but I can’t resist making it better with fluff at the end.

Genre: Violinist AU; College AU; Friends to Enemies to Lovers (AKA the Golden Triangle)

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Y/N and Seo Changbin share a tentative friendship, but when it comes to claiming first chair violinist for their school’s upcoming orchestra, their reasons for wanting the spot might just tear them apart.

A/N: Shoot, I was kinda mean to Changbin, but it was important for the sake of character development. 

I had been playing the violin ever since I could first hold the instrument in my hands, smooth and luxurious paint glistening under the lights of my bedroom. It was the first time that I had ever fallen in love with something, and I passionately gave my heart and soul to the music I created. As a result, my entire life became consumed by my incessant desire to improve and rise high above the ranks of my classmates.

However, it wasn’t until I started university that I realized what competition truly looked like because everyone in my liberal art’s school was insanely talented. These were the same people who had also split their blood, sweat and tears into the pursuit of perfection. They shared the same aspirations, and their thirst for the very top was just as all-consuming as mine.

Ironically, our professor told us that we were acquaintances, first and foremost, and needless taunting and fighting would not be tolerated without serious consequences. But my classmates and I found ways around their rules, and the relatively harmless pranks usually sent strong messages to those who we perceived as threatening. Of course, there were also the occasional cliques that formed, and they usually consisted of like-minded individuals who knew that they could use one another to help their self-motivated aspirations.

But I never thought that I would join any of them until I met Changbin. 

Because he seemed just like another face in the crowd, despite being alluringly handsome. Yet, when he managed a score a perfect A+ on our mid-semester examination, everyone immediately knew that he was not to be underestimated. Interestingly, Changbin often kept to himself in spite of my classmates’ approaches. They wanted him to join their circles because it was better to cement your status by joining with the best that our school had to offer. Plus, it allowed you to keep a close eye on the competition, and I had seen my fair share of friendships destroyed because of a petty disagreement.

But Changbin never seemed interested in making friends, and I admired his tenacity, which might explain why I allowed him to sit next to me at lunch since our other classmates were otherwise occupied with their own friend groups. And I certainly never considered that he had any ulterior motives, until he randomly started a conversation with me. At first, I was taken aback by the surprisingly timid greeting that he extended in my direction, but I decided that Changbin was harmless.

You see, I never intended to extend our relationship beyond casual lunchtime conversations, but he started sitting next to me in class as well. I wanted to protest the sudden change until Changbin changed my mind because he was helpful with our menial class assignments, and he even offered to help me with my general education courses. It registered as a kind-hearted gesture that seemed out of place considering our highly competitive field.

But I accepted his help because I genuinely appreciated anyone who could tutor me through basic calculus, and he was patient with me, walking us both through worksheet exercises with a calm and steady approach. After that, I didn’t mind acknowledging Changbin as a friend since he was always considerate and helpful, and his personality naturally complimented mine. Where I was quick-tempered and active, Changbin was laidback and gentle. I balanced him when he was struggling to find enough motivation to finish his assignments (even though he was a certified genius), and he managed to convince me to take breaks from making hundreds of highlights in my textbooks.

Yet, at the back of my mind was a constant reminder: Changbin was still one of my competitors, and I valued my future far more his friendship.

Present

I could tell that something interesting was about to happen when our Professor walked into class for our morning lecture. He smiled at the rows of students beaming back at him in expectation for whatever it was that he might be planning. “Students,” he said, pacing across the front of the room. “We have our first orchestral concert coming up.”

There was an excited murmuring that swept through the classroom, and I turned my head to the side to meet Changbin’s excited gaze. “Are you ready?” he asked, and I inhaled sharply around the smell of his cologne.

“Of course,” I said in response before looking back at our Professor.

“Most of the positions have been decided,” he continued. “But we still need someone for first chair violinist.”

My heart nearly skipped a beat inside my chest at the advertisement, and I clutched tightly to the edge of my desk. “This Saturday, I’ll be holding auditions at noon. Don’t be late.”

I leaned back in my desk while doing my best to restrain my excitement. Our Professor had already commenced the beginning of his lesson, but I couldn’t focus on anything else other than the coveted first chair auditions. It was everything that I had been working towards my entire life, and I was consumed with ideas for my song performance. Should I go for something classical? Or would that be too expected? Perhaps I should create something original?

The ideas were endless, and I waited until the end of class before I started speaking to Changbin in a rapid tone, hoping that he might give me some insights into my unfortunate conundrum. “I don’t know, Y/N,” Changbin said, scratching at the back of his head like he was nervous about something. 

“You’ll come and support me, right?” I asked him. “I’d like to see you there.”

Changbin looked away from me. “Yeah, but I’ll be auditioning too.”

I immediately froze in my steps, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. “Oh?”

“I thought you knew that,” he said, chuckling at the awkward situation that we found ourselves experiencing. “I’m not really interested in first chair, but my father said that he would be pull me out of the music program if I failed.”

I blinked at him, feeling like the entire universe had just been knocked off-kilter. “I guess you’ll have to try, then.”

“We can always practice together,” Changbin said with a note of desperation. “Just like we always do.”

“Sure,” I said, but the lie sounded inauthentic even to my own practiced ears. “Maybe we can try to schedule a time.”

“Tomorrow,” Changbin said, and his stare was intense. “I can meet you after class.”

“I’ll see if I have a free hour,” I said, and Changbin looked surprised that I didn’t agree to his offer.

“Do you already have plans?”

“One of my professors has office hours,” I said in return, even though we both knew that I rarely took advantage of meeting my instructors outside of scheduled classes.

Changbin nodded, but I could tell that he wasn’t easily convinced. “What about lunch? We can find something cheap in the dining hall. My treat.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Rain check?”

Changbin scoffed, reaching out for my arm to hold me in place. “Are you really mad about the audition?”

“Of course not,” I said, pulling my arm free from his unexpectedly tight grip. In actuality, I was far more disappointed than I was angry.

“Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lose this.”

“I know,” I told him with a nod. “But this has been my dream since I was eight-years-old.”

“I get that,” Changbin said, and I could tell that he was frustrated. “It’s a competition, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t hang out.”

“You’re right,” I agreed with a tight smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around later.”

I thought that it seemed casual enough, but Changbin was nothing short of incredulous, shaking his head at me before I watched him retreat in the opposite direction.

The Next Day

It was late at night when my phone vibrated against my nightstand. I let out a groan as I rolled onto my side to silence the notification, pausing when I realized that it was a text message from Changbin: there’s a party tonight, Y/N. You should come with me.

I frowned at the mention of a party, especially when it was such a random request from Changbin. He had never invited me to this kind of thing before, so why was he asking out of the blue? Especially considering our earlier argument from the previous day.

Maybe he was trying to distract me, I thought to myself, snatching my phone and sending a reply back to him: Not tonight. I have plans.

It wasn’t necessarily true since I had initially planned to stay in my dorm room, but I suddenly thought of something that I could do to occupy my time. And it would also benefit me in regards to the upcoming auditions. But then again, when I really thought about it, I realized that Changbin was a contributing factor in pushing me to the edge of full-blown panic, and I was suddenly anxious to ensure my position for our school’s upcoming performance. Likewise, when I considered the situation, if Changbin was going to a party, then there was a good chance that our other classmates would attend as well.

With that thought in mind, I grabbed my violin case from its position against the wall because I had just received confirmation that I would have the practice room to myself - allowing me the rare opportunity to improve without the others around. And that most certainly included Changbin. It was enough to get my heart racing, and I secured my coat tightly around my waist before rushing outside, inhaling the cold, crisp winter air as I found myself practically jogging to the music building. 

As I suspected, it was empty inside, and I turned on the lights and set-up some of the more expensive equipment that I wasn’t privileged enough to use outside of regular instruction. Satisfied, I sat down on one of the stools near the front of the room, tucking the violin against the familiar spot between my neck and shoulder, and I started to play with a huge smile pasted across my lips. Because this was when I felt the most comfortable, and everything was familiar, listening to the notes and chords form the beautiful melodies that had fascinated me as a child.

It was my favorite way to lose track of time, and I didn’t pay much attention to the late hour when I finished my entire set, pausing at the end of my performance to take in a deep breath. Was that okay? I wondered to myself, regretting the fact that I hadn’t bothered to record my practice run. Because it had become the best way to single out the little mistakes - whether it involved my irregular posture, or the slight hiss of a note that might go unnoticed by the untrained ear.

Whatever the case may be, I was too tired to revisit my prepared performance again, so I carefully cleaned up the practice room and stowed away my violin inside its case. Afterward, I took one last lingering look around the practice room before I was walking back outside. Thankfully, the building automatically locked itself behind me, so I knew that a Janitor had come by at some point, and the night was relatively quiet and undisturbed as I started walking back to my dorm alone.

However, any semblance of loneliness was quickly ruined by the unexpected vocalization of my name: “Y/N!”

I turned around, resisting the urge to roll my eyes when I saw one of my classmates running down the sidewalk. “Hey,” I said, keeping my tone inflectionless on purpose.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. “I thought you might come to the party.”

“I had other plans,” I told her dismissively.

“Yeah, Changbin said that he invited you,” she said, and I froze at the mention of Changbin. “He seemed pretty upset about it.”

I narrowed my eyes because I couldn’t quite figure out why she would feel the need to tell me that. “He knew I was busy.”

“I guess,” she said as if finally figuring out that I wasn’t in the mood for a conversation.

I nodded tersely, jerking my head in the direction of my dorm. “I was on my way back.”

“Oh, right!” she said, shaking her head as she took a step away from me. “I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

“It’s fine,” I said dismissively, spinning on my heel as I continued the short trek back to my dorm room, and I tried to ignore how my mind seemed stuck on the revelation of Changbin’s dissatisfaction with my decision to stay away from that stupid party.

The next morning, I could tell that something was off with Changbin when I sat down next to him at our usual section. His gaze was cold when he acknowledged me, but he didn’t say anything as he continued flipping through the sheet music waiting in front of him. It was completely out of character, but I had bigger things to worry about, lending my attention to our Professor when he walked into the lecture room to begin our lesson.

However, at the same time, I was irritated with my train of thought because I found myself wondering about Changbin instead of the History of Mozart. It was a cumbersome predicament because I wasn’t the type of student who became so easily distracted. In fact, I once spent nine hours straight in the library researching for a project that wasn’t due until the end of the semester.

Get it together, Y/N!

“Okay, everyone,” our Professor continued. “We’ll pause here for a moment and you can discuss the Mozart Effect Theory with a partner.”

I immediately looked at Changbin who sighed as he allowed his pen to fall from between his fingers. “What do you think?”

I hesitated because his question could easily be taken out of context, and it could be applied to something far more personal than the Mozart Theory. “It’s interesting.”

“I agree,” Changbin said, and I could see his jaw clench. “I heard that you were in the practice room last night,” Changbin added, and his tone was strangely cold.

How did he even know that? I wondered, but I knew there was no use in lying. It had never even appealed to me. “I wanted to make sure my performance was ready,” I replied.

“You lied to me,” Changbin growled, and I decided that I didn’t like the way that he was talking to me.

“I never lied,” I said. “I told you I had plans.”

“To practice?” Changbin scoffed. “You’re the one who always tells me to that you can’t push yourself too far, but I’m beginning to think it was all some kind of plot to make sure that I stayed behind you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I would never intentionally jeopardize another student’s success.”

“Really?” Changbin questioned. “So, why was sneaking away to the practice room more important than taking the night off with me?”

His questions were becoming harder to answer, and there was a part of me that didn’t want to deal with unnecessary drama. I had always been told that I had an unfavorable personality, but it usually involved my inability to deal with these kinds of situations - when someone thought that my time was theirs to utilize as they commanded. Then again, maybe it was my fault because I had simply allowed Changbin to get too close, and I could easily rectify that problem.

“We were never friends, Changbin,” I said, refocusing my attention at the front of the room because the words hurt to vocalize aloud. “You should know better than that since we’re all competitors.”

“Is that what you think?” Changbin asked, and he looked at me closely, searching for something that I knew he wouldn’t find. “I’m sorry that I wasted your time,” Changbin concluded, and he returned to his work without another word.

On the day of the audition, I was surprised when I received a phone call from my mother asking to meet me for lunch before my scheduled performance. It was a breath of fresh air - a necessary distraction because my stomach hadn’t settled ever since I woke-up that morning. In fact, I was experiencing an onslaught of unexpected nerves that I hadn’t felt since my required entrance examination. Overtime, my confidence had steadily built to a healthy level, but the idea of the audition was enough to crumble the entire foundation.

But my mother’s smile was kind when she invited me into a familiar embrace, and I inhaled the smell of her sweet perfume. “Y/N,” she said, pulling away and looking at me closely. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” I said, and she gave me a knowing look before inviting me inside the little cafe that we had agreed to meet at for our scheduled lunch. 

“What would you like?” my mother asked as she stood next to the front counter.

“Whatever you think...” I trailed off, and my eyes settled on someone that I hadn’t spoken to ever since our cold exchange in class the other day.

The sight of Changbin sent another pang to my churning stomach, and my mother called my name when she noticed my distraction. “Is he a friend?” my mother asked, and I met Changbin’s gaze just before he decided to turn away from me.

“A classmate,” I said, and the words tasted bitter on my palate.

“Well,” my mother said, exchanging a few words with the employee behind the register. “I ordered us something light.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, jerking my head away from Changbin. “I’ve felt nervous all morning.”

“That’s not like you,” my mother said, and she gave me a concerned look.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I offered as an explanation, and I made sure that we sat far away from Changbin at the other end of the cafe.

Eventually, my mother clapped her hands together when a waitress brought our food. It seemed tantalizing, and I took a bite of my sandwich before quietly sneaking another glance in Changbin’s direction. The action was automatic, and I was crushed to see that he was gone. “Are you sure that boy was just a classmate?”

I sighed because leave it to my psychologist mother to understand everything better than anyone else. “I don’t know.”

My mother offered me a sympathetic smile, and I watched as her hand enclosed over mine. “Tell me about him.”

“I think we were friends,” I offered hesitantly. “But I screwed everything up.”

“What happened?”

“He was mad because I decided to practice instead of going to a party with him, which is really stupid since we have auditions,” I said. “I mean, we weren’t really ever that close.”

“Are you sure?” my mother asked, and I groaned at the look on her face because I had seen it many times before. “Did you spend time together outside of class?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Doing what?”

I considered her question, recalling my first meeting with Changbin as something inconsequential. But afterward, it seemed that our time started to matter more, like when Changbin came over to my dorm in the middle of the night because I was panicking over a calculus exam. Or, when he took me aside after class because I made a dumb mistake and he reassured me that it would only make me stronger. And then there were the little things in between those moments - casual conversations during our classes and lunch, walks to and from our dormitories, and hooking Changbin on one of my favorite dramas that I liked to watch when it felt like the world was too difficult to manage on my own...

I glanced up at my mother, and there was a sad smile waiting for me. “Y/N, I think you’ve made a mistake.”

Her assessment was difficult to accept because I had spent my whole life believing that I couldn’t afford to make mistakes. I always panicked on anything that strayed from perfection, and my mind was stubborn and impenetrable when it came to the smallest of errors. And considering the idea of losing Changbin as a mistake? It was an enormous blow.

“What can I do to fix it?” I asked my mother, and I was startled by my own voice because it sounded so small and insecure. 

“That’s up to you to decide,” my mother said. “Some mistakes can be fixed in a million different ways, but some are so severe that you have to really think about the consequences.”

The nerves that I had experienced before were suddenly affecting me tenfold, and I knew that there was only one thing that I could do to remedy the worst mistake of my life.

Stage fright used to be a foreign concept to me, but when I walked across the stage for my audition, the heat of the overhanging lights added to the sweat glistening on my skin, and it seemed like I was experiencing tunnel vision when I managed to single out a familiar face. As such, I could see Changbin in the audience, watching me with narrowed eyes. It was a look that I never expected to receive from someone who was normally so quiet and reserved. And I couldn’t stand to know that it was because I had been so cruel to a man who had stood loyally by my side.

“Y/N,” my Professor greeted me warmly, shifting through the papers on the table in front of him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I tightened my grip around my violin, positioning it between my neck and shoulder as I had done a thousand times before. But this time was different because I already knew the outcome, and there was a tremendous weight being lifted from my shoulders as I pulled the bow across the string with too much pressure. The accompanying screeching noise was jarring, and I could see some of my classmates flinching in reaction.

Meanwhile, my Professor’s mouth had fallen open in shock, and I closed my eyes and sighed. “Thank you,” I said, bowing in front of my stunned Professor before I walked off the stage.

It was hard to remember what happened thereafter, but I recalled ignoring the voices of my classmates backstage, fighting the crowd for the fresh air waiting outside. But the sunlight was the first thing that I really felt, and it was warm and reassuring against my skin as I inhaled with several, deep breaths. It was a beautiful day, and I found myself smiling as I walked over to one of the little benches waiting along the edges of the giant auditorium building.

For a moment, I wondered what my younger self would think about this strange turn of events. Surely, past Y/N would launch into some sort of tirade about how irresponsible I was being with our future, telling me about the “path” that we needed to follow in order to find success in life. And it was stunning that one kind-hearted boy, with dark hair and eyes, had managed to show me what it was like to appreciate something more than music. Because it wasn’t everything that life had to offer, and I really wanted to take advantage of the other exciting adventures that I had scorned in favor of longer practices or reading textbooks about the countless theories of instrumentals.

What a waste of time, I thought to myself, craning my head back until I could feel the pressure lessen in my neck. 

“Do you understand what you just did?”

I opened one eye, finding Changbin standing in front of me with his arms crossed over his chest. My heart reacted to him before my brain, and I scrambled for the right words to describe everything that had happened. “I thought about it beforehand.”

“And it seemed like a good idea to you?”

“Considering the circumstances,” I said, giving him my full attention because he deserved nothing less. “I want our Professor to nominate Seo Changbin for the first chair, and I made sure that I couldn’t get in the way of what you deserve.”

Changbin was quiet for a moment, even as his arms fell to his sides. “You did that for me?” Changbin asked with eyes that were alight with wonder.

“Yeah.” I nodded, savoring a passing breeze. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Why?” Changbin asked, and there a slight hint of anger in his tone that told me he hadn’t forgotten my dismissal of him from earlier this week.

However, I was calm when I answered him, like an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. “For most of my life, I had this idea that there was only one future for me, and I needed to follow some kind of weird, strict plan...” I paused, patting the empty space on the bench next to me. Changbin hesitated for a moment before he sat down. “But lately, I’ve started to really hate that kind of thinking, and I hate the fact that I thought playing music was the only thing that could give my life any sort of meaning. Because it’s really not.”

“Do you believe that?”

I smiled at his innocent question. “Meeting you taught me a lot, and I’ve finally realized that I want other things in my life.”

It was a solemn declaration, and when Changbin looked at me, I knew that it was true. “Like...friends?”

“Yeah, friends,” I agreed, knocking my shoulder against his. “I also want to be a better version of myself. Someone who’s less obsessed with perfection.”

“You want me to think that I’m responsible for this epiphany?” Changbin asked, and his accompanying laugh filled my heart with a bright feeling of happiness.

“It starts with you,” I admitted. “I want you to ace that audition.”

“Well, after hearing all of that...” Changbin trailed off, and he straightened his shoulders. “I have some things that I should tell you.”

“Me?” I repeated, giving him an incredulous look.

“You.” Changbin confirmed, and the way he wrapped an arm around my shoulders was nothing short of delicate. “I like you a lot, Y/N,” he confessed. “This whole fight...I’m glad that you seem happier, but I would’ve never let it last. I need to be around you, and I want you to understand because I’m hoping for something even bigger than friendship.”

I swallowed hard, processing his words. “What do you mean?”

“Something like this,” Changbin said, and I wasn’t expecting the soft fingers directing my head to the side. But I really could’ve never anticipated the first touch of our lips together - gentle and inquisitive. They were soft like the rest of him, and it reminded me of a velvety touch that was impossible to resist. “Look at me, Y/N,” Changbin requested, and I forced my eyes to open to meet his gaze. “Forget about competitions or cliques,” he said. “Let’s just make it Y/N and Seo Changbin. I think that might benefit us both.”

I laughed at his explanation, but there was nothing humorous about the affection in his dark gaze or the beautiful intimacy that could only be shared between two people who had finally made their peace with the union of our two very different souls.

[revasnaslan]

I'll be honest about Annilis, I love him and his sympathetic background AS well as his awful approach to keeping Hec-tor safe, because he's probably in some legitimate danger but he took it too far. I love HP, but I also wanna beat his ass too. Just grab him by the ears and yell, "What are you doing you idiot sandwich?!" I just wanna ask him "Are you even happy? And no getting pegged by a Shade isn't happiness." Don't want him to die though, only because it's a cop-out for actual punishment.1/2

2/2 That's what kinda bummed me on HP in-show, he did so much horrible shit, was an arrogant living "God", and he was just killed? That easy? HP's hubris was grotesque and he deserved a worse punishment than just a lightshow to the face. HP was also a non character in the end and whatever characterization he did have was lost quickly, gonna admit. But, an arrogant jerk dying that quickly is too easy a punishment, he has to suffer the consequences of his actions and experience his loss in detail.

sorry I'm sending you so many asks about HP. But dear God did the show drop the ball on Horde "supposedly endgame villain who was woefully underutilized until the last minute and even then was handed the villain ball to make sure what credibility he did have was lost" Prime. Could have been great, his story was there, but Crew-ra wasted time on frivolous characters(star siblings might have been cool but s5 needed to work on its existing characters, not introduce new ones)and wasted plot points.

I actually have done a ton of analysis on why prime just doesn’t work as a villain for pretty much six months now. Like I started doing this pretty much the day that the finale dropped cause I never liked S5 at all. There’s just much wrong with it, strictly from a narrative prospective than I cannot get over it, which I why I’ve kind of retreated into doing Fuck Canon aus. And I don’t think the major problems plaguing prime is that he’s a bad person or a cult leader or whatever, that would be fine. This is a matter of set up and pay off. This is a matter of narrative structure. Those are my major problems with everything about this.

Anyway, I guess we’ll try a flaccid attempt at positivity, just to make it clear that I am not coming strictly from a point of view of hate… the one thing I remember liking about prime is that creepy dinner scene. Loved that scene, I was so giddy when they dropped it as a teaser clip, and I got to enjoy it in peace for like a day and a half before my love for the show went crumbling. Prime is absolutely on his game in that scene, I can very clearly see his mind working, because my interpretation of the scene is that he’s trying to bait glimmer into giving him information. Did he actually intend to harm adora? Who knows! Does it matter? Not really, considering he got the information he wanted, which was what was needed to work the heart. I can feel the tension in that scene, that is how he should have been for the rest of the season.

So what the fuck happened? *cracks knuckles* well let’s see shall we.

Foreshadowing It’s Fun Cause It’s A Thing I’ve Heard Of

So I think we all remember just how shocking it was when prime actually showed up, and he wasn’t anything like we’d all come to assume he’d be based on what had been said about him up until that point. What we had been fed was essentially that he was cold, calculating, and didn’t look upon “defects” well. He saw the clones as disposable. And they set up that aspect of his character just fine, and I don’t have a problem with how that was set up.

What they utterly failed to properly set up (and even contradicted themselves on) was the cult thing, and how prime is essentially this messiah figure to the clones. I highly suspect this occurred because they were writing the show as they went along, and hadn’t fully fleshed out prime’s whole deal until he actually appeared at the end of S4, but that’s just my own speculation given some of the things that had been said in interviews regarding other aspects of the writing (namely that micah was apparently not supposed to be alive in the first place and that happened because of a miscommunication between noelle and one of the other writers).

Regardless, there are a number of things that should probably have been done differently in order to properly foreshadow prime’s cult leader status, that actually would have heightened hordak’s characterization as well. For one thing, there’s a reason we all assumed that the galactic horde was merely a military program and it’s because of how hordak acts throughout the first four seasons. We can talk in circles about headcanons until we’re blue in the face (i.e., he might have memory problems), but the fact of the matter is that those are headcanons and that hordak’s entire narrative changes from one of an ableist family to one of a religious trauma seemingly on a dime come the very end of S4 when prime shows up.

imagine how satisfying the foreshadowing would have been if hordak had actually been spouting dogma the entire show (i.e., “cast out the shadows” and “all beings must suffer to become pure”) only for it peter off once he’s befriended entrapta, if he had been calling those who he respected brother/sister instead of force captains (which is a far more militarized word to use, and judging by the galactic horde isn’t even a term they use), if he had still been dressed in his uniform and only actually started dressing differently after entrapta had helped him? Hell, he never even so much as implies that entrapta is leading him astray before he’s back with prime, he doesn’t even seem particularly distressed about being around her most of the time, and the only reason he even gets persnickety with her is because of his medical condition.

One point I’m going to expand on for a moment is the whole “brother” thing, because that is actually a very good way of explaining what I mean. Now, hordak doesn’t actually mention any other clones at all from what I remember. This is contrary to all of the clones in S5 referring to each other as “brother” pretty openly and it being seen as a term of respect. However, the only person that hordak actually calls “brother” up until S5 is prime, and this inadvertently ended up making the word seem far more neutral than it should have been considering the context of S5. The word “brother” is actually a control tool, and if they had wanted to establish that sooner, hordak should have been calling anybody he respected that.

So, either the writers hadn’t actually thought of that part of the narrative yet, or they’re just that bad at foreshadowing.

There are also three instances of the narrative contradicting itself with regards to prime, one in S3, one in S4, and one in S5. The first is that hordak wanted to make a new body for himself. While one could argue that this was meant to be foreshadowing that prime takes new bodies whenever his old one failed (which is fine, that works as foreshadowing), the act of hordak admitting that he was intending to do that is what actually creates the snag. With the context of S5, we learn that becoming a vessel is meant to be a place of honor, but this comes with the caveat that it seems like only prime is allowed to take new bodies. So why the ever living fuck would someone as “pious” and “unworthy” as hordak think that was something he could ever be allowed to do, much less that prime would welcome him back with open arms if he did it. But there’s zero hesitation on hordak’s part, he doesn’t even mention that this is something usually only reserved for prime.

The second is that prime literally looked at the heart of etheria and said it was “unlike anything [he had] ever seen” despite canonically fighting the first ones, so he’d presumably have recognized the energy signature that first one’s tech gives off and be like Oh Shit. This one in particular drives me absolutely nuts because if I was writing a villain who had lived long enough to fight the people this mystical weapon was created by I would never write them saying that what the actual fuck. My gripe here is not that prime is ancient, that’s fine, I could’ve vibed with that. But the fact that he not only fought the first ones but also recognized mara is really egregious in a way that borders on parody for me. Like what a flimsy excuse for him to be connected to adora (and we’ll get to that!)

The third and final one is that hordak was allegedly thrown out for his defects. That’s what we were told, that’s what a major facet of hordak’s trauma is centered around. However, at the same times, prime seems like… oddly fixated on hordak in a way that usually implies something deeper is going on here. That was why I was so convinced that hordak wasn’t remembering something clearly, because why would prime spare him instead of killing him immediately after returning if he was defective enough to warrant being thrown out? Come S5, prime seems to have forgotten about the pesky little plot detail that is hordak’s defects, since they never come up again! Nope! Hordak is not only completely healed of his ailments (which Can I Get A Yikes?) but he’s also been welcomed back to his original position as prime’s right hand by the mid-point of the season, and he stays there until the finale unless the plot demands he be elsewhere to interact with entrapta cause hordak was added in post. You can’t even argue that he was keeping hordak alive because eThErIaN kNoWlEdGe because he has those fucking mind chips. Literally every single person he’s chipped is connected to the hivemind because of that. He’d have every single bit of knowledge that he could possibly want right there at his fingertips. He doesn’t need hordak alive at all.

Which brings us to…

It’s Almost Like He Wasn’t A Villain To The Proper People

The thing about villains is that, in order for them to not feel out of place, in order for their defeat to actually give a true feeling of satisfaction, you kind of have to put them up against the right people. The reason that prime ultimately fails in this respect is that he is not adora and catra’s villain, despite the narrative pushing him as that…

I actually once joked on twitter that if the rise of skywalker had come out when S5 was being written, then prime would have likely ended up being revealed as adora’s long lost grandfather in some attempt to make his fixation on her seem warranted. That’s the level we’re at in terms of how connected the two of them appear to be for the villain and hero thing. They just are not connected, and prime has absolutely no reason to be this fixated on her. They tried to explain it with she ra and prime being old enemies, but that’s equally as confusing because a) mara hadn’t mentioned him up until that point, b) this inclusion actually makes the first ones creating a superweapon look justified since prime is such a huge threat, and c) she ra is explicitly stated to have been on etheria long before the first ones even colonized it, so why the fuck is she just gallivanting around the cosmos fighting cult leaders?

And to be clear, if this whole prime versus she ra had actually been hinted at, I would not be taking so much issue with this. But as there was absolutely zero mention of him, it just comes off as egregious and very, very sloppy on their parts.

Prime also should not be as fixated on catra as he is, that doesn’t make sense at all. I know why this happened in particular, though, and it’s because the writing team was so in love with her that they just had to give her this arc. That just makes its inclusion all the worse to be honest. Why does he go to such great lengths to use catra to torture adora, why does he go into a total breakdown after catra escapes? He isn’t connected to either of them…

… because he is hordak and entrapta’s villain.

that prime didn’t immediately want entrapta dead continues to confuse me to this day, nearly seven months after the fact. Like you mean to tell me that this cult leader, who is presumably used to complete obedience from his followers, finds one of the wayward members of his proverbial flock lost on some backwater, who didn’t want to be found, and he knows exactly who is responsible for sewing those seeds of discord in this poor lamb’s head. And he doesn’t immediately want entrapta dead?

Not only does prime never mention her, despite it being very easy to push a plotline about how it’s necessary because she’s perceived as a danger to the rest, and especially to the poor lost soul who was ultimately returned to him. Instead, prime just doesn’t seem to realize entrapta exists. He doesn’t know who she is despite literally reading hordak’s mind. He doesn’t even seem to interpret her as threat considering he wasn’t worried about putting her and hordak right next to each other in the finale. He should have been using hordak to torture entrapta, and he should have had his break because hordak escaped him. That whole scene where catra is under mind control and adora was trying to snap her out of it was textbook entrapdak. Hordak should have been the one to delve into the hivemind to help adora. It was his story and it was taken from him when he was sacrificed on catra’s narrative arc altar.

And this is ultimately completely fixable. Because they had a villain they could have been using for adora and catra the whole time. Shadow Weaver. Y’know, their mutual abuser who was the main cause of strife between the two of them, and the person who kind of set the plot in motion since she’s the reason catra is the way that she is?

He Blew It. Super Hard. Complete Buffoonery.

Ultimately one of the biggest writing fumbles with prime is that he is just really fucking dumb as the plot demands, and it doesn’t make any kind of narrative sense for him to be that way, it is literally just him being at the mercy of the writers who need him to do something stupid so they can push the plot forward since they made him too overpowered for it to happen any other way.

There’s numerous instances of this across the season, including him bringing entrapta aboard the velvet glove when the very person he would have had very good reason to not let her near is standing right there, and him deciding to give catra pretty much free reign of the velvet glove and seeming to decide to trust her despite him knowing damn well that she’s likely to betray him the second he does something she doesn’t like, and the time he literally left adora to be beaten by catra instead of just killing her outright when she couldn’t even activate she ra. And in all these cases he had the fucking nerve to seem surprised when it happened?

However, there is one plot point that I feel illustrates how goddamn stupid he is to move the plot forward, and it’s the mind chips.

I mean one of the reasons I dislike it is going back to how little foreshadowing the writers actually seem capable of committing to. There is nothing to indicate in the narrative that prime actually employs mind control on anybody besides the clones, and this becomes especially egregious when we later meet the star siblings, and we find out that there are large swathes of the universe that are seemingly not chipped? It just screams like they needed some type of angst plot point for catra, so they had to find a way to make it work.

But the very inclusion of the mind chips as a plot point makes prime look so ridiculously dumb, because we are told those chips connect people to the hivemind, we are explicitly shown this for catra angst. So a) why does he need hordak around at all, because the excuse he needs to know about etheria doesn’t work since he literally chips like half of the etherian population later on anyway, b) if he needed information on the heart of etheria, why didn’t he just chip glimmer outright, it would have saved him a lot of time and hassle, and c) if he knew damn well that catra had betrayed hordak numerous times and was likely to do the same to him, why didn’t he just immediately chip her so he could mitigate two problems. If he had chipped catra immediately, he wouldn’t have lost glimmer, and it would have been next to impossible for adora and bow to storm the velvet glove through the means that they did.

When your main villain is that fucking stupid, the tension is completely sapped out of your narrative, and prime doesn’t have enough character unto himself to continue holding up his own arc. He is a sexy lamp cardboard cutout that just happens to be brought onto the scene when they were in need of someone to throw the idiot ball at. Prime is supposed to be this thousand year old body hopper who has the wisdom of the ages, and yet he was defeat by a group of teenagers driving a clown card held together by nothing but duct tape and prayers.

Anyway!

Guess Who Just Got Murdered!

Anon, I completely agree that the way prime got taken out was just… hm. Well, it was a choice, given how they had written the rest of the season.

I’ve said this before, but I really wish I could actually enjoy hordak yeeting him, but I just don’t feel anything. That scene is a culmination of an arc that never happened because hordak was barely on screen for S5. It feels like we’re missing this whole season-long arc about how hordak managed to break free of prime and was actively working against him, and that scene is the lowest point, right before the greater scope villain is ultimately defeated by the protagonist. Which just furthers my point that prime is really hordak’s villain, because hordak reads more like a protagonist than I think the writers actually intended for him to.

Since you mentioned anillis, I feel the need to comment on him as well, because I do know exactly what happens to him at the end of my au, because I actually planned for his ending from the beginning and built his arc towards that point. The very bare bones spoilers is that he isn’t going to die, because a) he needs to live with the consequences of his actions and b) him dying would affect hec-tor horribly, especially since if anybody had to deal the killing blow it would be hec-tor. And hec-tor doesn’t deserve to be forced to do that. He wants freedom, he doesn’t want his brother dead by his own hand.

So, I completely agree that just killing prime off feels a little… like a cop out? I’m not going to get into a discussion of how he was defeated by the power of (romantic) love because my issue there is not with the trope itself, but ultimately how it was handled, and that also has to do more with my grievances with how catradora was ultimately handled than my grievances with prime. However, him being like… exorcised…

Well it sure does clean up some loose ends that we don’t want to discuss huh?

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommates AU :)

Chapter 11 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

Happiness Feels a Lot Like Sorrow

Present

Dean was doing his best to uphold his end of the scotch-induced bargain of Monday night. At the very least, he told himself, it would make the next week more bearable, with Cas lingering in his apartment at all hours.

He’d still been making himself busy. He spent twelve hours at the shop on both Tuesday and Wednesday, trying to catch up on the work he’d missed while he’d been out. Bobby had saddled him with the worst of the lot; Honda Odysseys and GMC Yukons that needed tire rotations or oil changes before enormous families made their Christmas treks. He’d started on Cas’s car, but hadn’t gotten much further than getting the old timing belt off.

By the end of his shift on Wednesday, he was exhausted. It felt good, though, being back in the shop, music accompanying him (at a decidedly lower volume than normal), his hands constantly occupied, mind numb from the easy work.

As he drove home from work, a sign in a shopping center caught his eye. Before he knew what he was doing, he was pulling into the parking lot of a local bookstore. He turned off the Impala’s engine and walked into the store, not entirely sure what he was looking for.

It was by impulse, really, that he picked up a copy of The Great Gatsby. It was a special edition, with extra content bound up at the end. He remembered Cas saying something about that book once. It seemed like a reasonable gift.

Dean almost put the book back on the shelf three separate times before forcing himself to the checkout counter. He paid for the book in a hurry, tossing it into the back seat when he reached the car. Stupid, he thought to himself. He wasn’t even one-hundred-percent sure that Cas still liked that book. He supposed, if he chickened out, he could just give it to Sam, instead.

When Dean arrived at the apartment, Sam announced that he was picking up Taco Bell for dinner. Dean and Cas replied “crunchwrap” at the same time when Sam asked them what they wanted. He raised his eyebrows and the synchronicity, but didn’t say anything, just made a note in his phone. Cas went bright red. Dean stared resolutely at the ground.

Cas was sitting in the armchair with a book as Dean sunk into the couch, exhausted from two long days in a row. The history channel on. Dean wrinkled his nose and punched in the numbers for the Food Network.

“You watch the history channel? By choice?” Dean asked, feigning disgust.

Cas smirked as he closed his book. “I wasn’t really watching it,” he said, “But on occasion, I do like to listen to the conspiracy theorists on Ancient Aliens.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s what you and Sam do all day? Nerd out over crazy historians?”

“Mostly,” Cas said sarcastically. Dean snorted.

“You sure you don’t want Sam or I to drive you home for Christmas?” Dean said. He’d made the offer the day before, but Cas had refused.

Cas sighed. “I’m sure. I appreciate the gesture, but Christmas with my family is the last disaster I want to saddle with myself after…” He waved his hand generally.

Dean nodded. “You still talk to any of ‘em? Your family.”

“Occasionally,” Cas said. “My father called yesterday to ask your same question. I suspect he suddenly feels quite guilty about his treatment of me, considering accountants make quite a bit more than small-town preachers.”

“He’s worried about his retirement fund?”

“Most likely. I do still talk to Anna, though, on a regular basis.”

Dean felt a memory pull at his brain. “She’s the, uh, the therapist, right?”

Cas smiled to himself. “Indeed.”

“I’m assuming you’re spending Christmas at Bobby’s?” Cas asked after a beat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “The usual thing. It’s always a good time.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “I’m glad.”

Dean drummed his fingers against the side of the couch. “You know,” he started, and he was already regretting it, “Sam wants you to come. To Bobby’s. For Christmas.” He cringed. The words sounded lame, like he’d made the whole thing up.

“He does?” Cas asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, but I told him it’d probably be weird, you know,” Dean said with a shrug. “Big crowds aren’t your thing, and all.”

Cas eyed him. “Why didn’t he ask me himself?” He wondered. “We spend a lot of time together.”

Dean stared at the TV. “I dunno, that’s on him.”

Dean could still feel Cas’s eyes on him. “Is this your way of inviting me to spend Christmas with you?” He asked.

Dean nearly fell off the couch. “What? No,” he rushed out. “I mean, it’s not… Not with me. With everyone. I dunno, if you’re gonna be here anyway…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, Christmas alone is kinda shitty. Especially in this shithole,” he added as he gestured at his apartment. “You can come if you want,” he said finally. “Everyone would probably be happy to see you.”

Cas was staring at him, staring through him, like he always did. Dean turned his attention back to the cooking show playing on the television.

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Nothing,” Cas said, tilting his head. “Déjà vu.”

Dean’s chest tightened at that. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “What d’ya say?”

“Okay,” Cas said eventually. “I’ll come, unless that would make you uncomfortable.”

Dean’s head snapped up. After everything, he hadn’t really expected Cas to say yes. “Uh, no, man, like I said on Monday. New start.”

“Right,” Cas said slowly. “And you don’t think we should talk about why we need a ‘new start’, as you say?”

Dean glowered at the TV. “Nope,” he said. Did he always have to make everything difficult? It had been three years, and Dean truly wanted nothing more than to forget about all of it. He didn’t want closure, he didn’t need closure. Neither of them did, seeing as Cas would go back to his glamorous life in less than a week, anyway.

He could feel Cas’s eyes on the back of his head, but he ignored them. “If that’s what you want,” Cas said, his voice resigned.

Dean sat up, then, finally facing Cas. “Don’t you?” He asked, unsure if that was a question he was ready to hear answered.

“I suppose, in a way,” Cas said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

It was Cas, now, who looked away. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “Nothing important, anyway.”

Dean wanted to pry, but knew he would be a hypocrite if he did. He got up and moved to the kitchen for a glass of water. He brought a second one to the living room for Cas, who uttered his thanks.

“You ever finish that thing you were working on in college?” Dean asked.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were on a clean slate. ‘Forgetting about everything.’”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, that doesn’t count.”

Cas took a sip of his water. “If you’re referring to the pages that are sitting in your bedroom at the moment —” Dean winced “— then no.”

Dean shot him a confused look. “Why not?”

“I… Lost the inspiration,” Cas said carefully.

“Oh.”

Cas regarded him thoughtfully. “You ask me a lot of questions,” he said. “Am I allowed to do the same?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Dean grumbled.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “I mean, will you become willfully taciturn if I ask you questions about yourself?”

Dean was ruffled at being called out so bluntly. “No promises,” he muttered.

“What has your life looked like the past three years?”

Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Not real interesting,” he said. “Working for Bobby during the days, bartending at nights. Saving up money for Sam’s college. Living here.” He shrugged. “Pretty normal, I guess.”

“Do you still bartend?” Cas asked.

“Nah, I quit that when Sam got his scholarship,” Dean replied. “I make enough at the shop to cover what that money won’t.”

Cas smiled. “That’s quite impressive.”

“I’m just a mechanic.”

“I meant paying for Sam’s college.”

Dean felt heat crawl up his neck. “Not a big deal,” he said.

“I would have thought you were on your way to settling down,” Cas said slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “But that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

“No,” Dean said, and this conversation was getting dangerously close to acknowledgement of their history. Dean didn’t dare look at Cas. The fact that he thought, after everything, that Dean would be anywhere close to “in a relationship” was downright comical.

Dean, too, chose his words carefully. “I could say the same about you,” he said. “Unless there’s some guy waiting for you in KC,” he added, realizing he couldn’t possibly know otherwise. “Which, if there is, he’s kind of a dick for not —”

“There’s not,” Cas interrupted.

And that was surprising.

Dean hadn’t realized it until that moment, but he had fully expected Cas to be halfway down the road to marriage by now. The fact that he wasn’t erupted feelings that Dean wasn’t entirely ready to face.

“How’s the eye?” He asked, changing the subject.

Cas put three fingers up to the bruise, which was looking less black and more like splotches of blue and green. “Better,” he said decidedly.

“Good,” Dean replied.

They stopped talking, each turning their attention to the program playing on the TV. Dean had a brief moment of disassociation, watching the scene from somewhere beyond himself. It was strange, he thought, to be sitting in his living room with Castiel Novak, two twenty-somethings living vastly different versions of the same life. Inexplicably, he felt the same thing he’d felt when he was eighteen, lying in the dark, talking to Cas across the room. He felt known, he felt seen, like each and every part of him was open for voyeuristic display. It was nothing Cas had said, nothing he had done, it was just him. The way he pushed and pushed against Dean’s shoddy walls while somehow managing to meet him in the middle, every time.

Dean was grateful for the distraction of food when Sam returned. Dean was quiet during dinner, finding comfort in an observatory role. He wondered at Sam and Cas’s closeness, after only a few days spent holed up together. He rolled his eyes when the two of them began communicating in sign language, because of course Cas knew sign language. When Cas’s eyes flicked to Dean after Sam signed something, and the two of them laughed, Dean huffed and gathered the trash to take it out.

It was a frigid night, his breath visible in the low gleam of the floodlights. He tossed the bag over the side of the dumpster and paused. He dug in his pocket, and, finding both his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, lit one up and leaned against the dumpster.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he stood there, taking long drags until the end of the cigarette burned his fingers, and then just standing, staring into the parking lot.

“Dean?” A gruff voice called, and he turned to find Cas standing across from him, a tan trench coat thrown haphazardly over his black t-shirt and jeans. He cocked an eyebrow at Dean. “What are you doing?”

Dean dug the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket in answer. “Smoke,” he said.

Cas gave a short nod and made his way over to the dumpster. He leaned against it, next to Dean, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. Dean gave him a sidelong glance, but Cas was looking straight ahead, deep in thought.

“You and Sam seem to be getting along,” Dean said, his voice gruff.

“Your brother is extraordinarily kind,” Cas said in reply, not bothering to look at Dean. “He talks about you often,” he added.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well,” he said, but didn’t complete the thought. He hadn’t bothered to throw on a jacket, and he shivered as the wind blew straight through his thin flannel. Cas was standing close, their elbows almost touching, and Dean could have been eighteen again. He could feel it, somewhere deep in his stomach, that same bundle of nerves and excitement that had always come when Cas was just a little too close. He almost shut his eyes against the strength of it, but he willed it away, looking at Cas instead.

Cas still wore that intent expression on his face as he stared off into the distance. “Hey,” Dean said, elbowing him in the arm. “You creating world peace over there or something?”

The ghost of a smile. “No,” Cas said. “I’m just thinking.”

That was vague. Dean raised an eyebrow. “’Bout what?”

Cas side-eyed him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made a motion with his hand that said, go on.

“It’s just strange,” Cas started, wrapping the coat tighter around himself, “That I should end up stranded here, in Lawrence, of all places.”

Dean resisted the urge to pull out another cigarette before continuing this conversation. “I guess,” he said.

“Stranger still that your shop should be the one closest to me at the time.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it’s kinda weird,” he said. “I never expected… Well, that’s why I hit my head, anyway.”

Cas whipped his head around to look at Dean in confusion. “What?”

And, yeah, this was embarrassing, but Dean couldn’t exactly stop now. He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I heard you talking to Bobby,” he explained, “I just kinda… Well, I was pretty friggin’ shocked to hear you, of all people.”

Cas stared at him. “Oh,” was all he said.

“So thanks for this,” Dean said, aiming for levity as he pointed to the soon-to-be scar on his forehead. He smirked.

Cas faced forward again. “I didn’t mean to shock you,” he said. “Actually, I had no idea it was you under that truck.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “What, even after you talked to Bobby, you didn’t figure it out?”

Cas shrugged. “The life I always pictured you might be living was very different than the one you live.”

Dean immediately felt defensive. “Okay, asshole, my life is —”

“I didn’t say ‘better’,” Cas interrupted. “Just different.”

That shut Dean up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway, “What did you picture? For me?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Nothing very specific. I suppose a girlfriend, a good job, doing something you like, in a place that you liked. You used to speak so fondly of Texas, I thought maybe you’d moved there. You told me, once, that you had thought about engineering. I usually pictured you like that, an office job. A stable life.”

Dean was watching Cas paint that picture. An office job, coming home to some faceless girl and planning his life around the possibility of an okay-marriage and two-and-a-half kids, waking up at forty and wondering what exact point in his life had lead him down this road. It looked wildly unsatisfying from where he stood.

He just made a grunt of understanding. “Well, you were way off, pal,” he said.

Another small smile, like it had almost been contained. “Apparently,” Cas said.

“You know,” Dean said, uncomfortable with the attention placed on him, “You didn’t turn out how I thought either.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well after… You know, I read that thing you wrote. And it was good, Cas, it was damn good.” Something lodged itself uncomfortably in the back of his throat as he recalled the nights he spent wondering where Cas had been, what he’d been doing. He coughed. “I guess I just expected that, by now, you’d have published it. Made a shit-ton of money and bought a douchebag-sized house in, like, Ohio, or something.”

“You make it sound like it’s disappointing that that isn’t the case,” Cas said, and, though he was giving Dean a smirk, his eyes looked sad. Dean felt a pang in his chest at having caused unintentional pain.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Not… I dunno, I guess… I thought that writing stuff made you happy. And…” And you deserve to be happy, even without me. Dean had the words, they were right there, but he couldn’t say them, couldn’t take that first step in bridging the now-unacknowledged divide between them. “Well, it’s not like I pictured you depressed or anything,” he said instead.

Cas turned to look at him. “Are you happy, Dean?”

The gravity of the question, the look in Cas’s eyes, curious and almost pleading, sucked the air right out of Dean’s lungs. And there was something screaming at the back of his brain, that no, he wasn’t, that he hadn’t been, that he could never be, because the one key ingredient to that happiness was —

“Yeah,” Dean replied in a small voice. “I guess so.”

Cas stared at him for a moment longer, still searching, before dropping his head and turning away.

“Are you?” Dean asked, almost defiantly, as if the question had been a test that now he was forcing Cas to take.

“I’m very fortunate,” Cas said carefully. “If I am unhappy, it is of my own doing.”

And that totally wasn’t an answer, but Dean let it slide. It was cold, and his back hurt, and he was tired from a long day at work. Silently, he pushed off the dumpster and began to make his way back to the apartment. Cas joined him, settling into a comfortable gait by his side. The air was languid between them, like it was too heavy to move.

Dean let both of them back inside and Cas excused himself to take a shower. Sam was watching something on TV and raised his eyebrows at Dean’s re-entrance. Dean just ignored him, settling onto the couch, thinking about fate and happiness and whether or not the two might be connected.

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

taglist! let me know if you want to be added/removed :)

@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers @fortiusnitius 

[lurafita]

Law Enforcement Avengers & Good Criminal Peter

Okay, have we considered the following:

Non powers AU

Avengers are some kind of police force (detectives/FBI/special agents/belonging to a special unit/whatever), that covers mostly high scale theft.

Peter Parker, though no one knows his real name cause he is always costumed and goes by the alias Spiderman, is a high scale class thief.

However, Spidey is a kind of ‘Robin Hood’ criminial. His victims are Mob bosses and Crime Syndicates and corrupt higher ups and pretty much anyone who has some kind of dirt on them.

Because of that, not every victim of Spiderman reports whatever he has stolen to the authorities, fearing that an investigation might uncover their dirty business.(Though many still do, believing themselves smarter than the police)

Which is why after every heist, Spiderman makes a call to the agents in charge of apprehending him, the Avengers unit; usually to the units head: Tony Stark.

Usually with the words: “Guess what I just stole.”

And, okay, technically, Spiderman is breaking the law and they should really put more effort into finally finding and arresting him. But thanks to this guy’s thefts the Avengers have been able to put some major bad guys behind bars (some of which had been the real scum of the earth). Also, Spiderman is never armed (aside from this weird bio-degradable web stuff he uses), and has never harmed an innocent (a black eye or a dislocated shoulder to a hired gun is blissfully overlooked by the agents.)

So, they kinda like the guy, okay? Have even given him a nickname: Spidey.

Not even their unit chief: Nicolas Fury, is much on their asses about catching the Spider already.

One day, Tony’s little daughter Morgan gets kidnapped, and the whole team is frantically trying to find who grabbed her. Is it someone they are currently investigating, or one of their cases that is going before a judge soon. Is someone trying to use Tony’s daughter to blackmail him and the team, or is it old fashioned revenge?

The team isn’t making any progress, there are just too many suspects, not enough info to send them in the right direction, and Tony is about to have a fucking break down.

Then his phone rings and as he answers, anticipating to hear the voice of the kidnapper of his little girl, the familiar voice of Spiderman speaks instead.

“Guess what I just stole?”

Tony likes the guy, but he doesn’t have time for this right now, and he tells Spidey as much, and is about to hang up, when suddenly Morgan is on the other end of the phone call with a happy “Hi Daddy!”

Turns out Spidey’s latest target was the guy who had kidnapped Tony’s daughter, because the Avengers had arrested the guys brother a few years ago, and the brother had just recently been killed in prison.

When Spidey was scoping out the place for his heist, he found little Morgan locked up in some dark, dank room, and got her out.

And Tony is in tears, because thank fuck is baby girl is safe. Then Spidey is back on the line and tells him to meet them in some diner that’s not far away, and also where he found her, identifying the person behind the kidnapping.

Tony and the others race to the diner, where they find Morgan making her way through an impressive amount of pancakes topped with ice cream and a chocolate milkshake.

Tony beelines to her and scoops her up and is just “Oh thank god. Are you alright Morgan? Did they hurt you? It’s all gonny be okay now, Daddy’s got you.” and so on.

And the others get some hugs in too, and everyone is just relieved and happy and Morgan seems to be unharmed and thank god.

Then they notice the young man who is sitting across from where Morgan sat in the booth, an iced coffee before him, who is just looking at the scene with a little smile on his face.

He introduces himself as Peter Parker, a bystander who had been handed the child from some guy in a costume with the order to wait with the girl in the diner until her father and his friends come to pick her up.

And they know, okay? It’s not a good cover story, and Spidey isn’t even really trying right then, and they just fucking know that this is the thief they have been (kinda but not really) trying to catch.

And they don’t fucking care.

They thank him profusely for ‘staying with Morgan’ and keeping an eye on her (read: saving her from her kidnapper). and then most of the team gets back to the precinct to get ready to arrest the son of a bitch who kidnapped little Morgan, while Tony and Morgan stay a little longer in the diner with Peter, because: “But I haven’t finished my pancakes, Daddy.”

And Morgan tells Tony all about how Spiderman broke her out of the smelly room and took her piggy back and scaled that one wall that was “So high, Daddy! I thought we were gonna fall, but Spidey wrapped those sticky webs around me so I wouldn’t slip off, and then we was jumping and climbing like in those parkerkour videos that my friend Amy showed me and it was so cool Daddy.”

And Morgan keeps stealing little looks at Peter whenever she talks about Spiderman, so Tony can guess that the young man probably lifted his mask for her (probably so she wouldn’t be scared of him). But Morgan is nothing but not loyal, so if Peter asked her to keep him being Spiderman a secret between them, then that’s exactly what she will do. (Even though she is very bad at it.)

And... then I don’t really know. Things will happen, the team and Peter (Spidey) will get closer (Tony  and Peter in particular) and maybe things even get to a point where Spidey is offered a consultant job with the team, in exchange for a prison sentence, or something like that. (It takes a thief to catch a thief, after all. And Spidey can provide a lot of insider info for the department.)

Or something else. I don’t know.

I primarily thought of this for a Starker pairing, but I think it could be worked out for IronDad and SpiderSon as well.

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 5

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary:  Fire alarms make a good reason to talk to your flatmate.

A/N: New chapter! This isn't the longest but we get some important hints about Leo's past. I wanted to involve fire into his story somehow and, well, this is what happened.

Thanks to Cris for betaing and a huge shoutout to smoustart on ig for making this awesome piece of art for this fic! 

Please enjoy and leave a comment if you like this fic because that can literally make my day and it sure as heck makes me more motivated to continue it!

Characters in this ch: Leo, Calypso

Words: 1400+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort 

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

"Damn that fire alarm!" Calypso growled to herself as the device made the beeping sound again. "I can't focus when it's doing that."

She had been working on her latest literature assignment ("write a detailed character analysis on one of the characters in Odyssey") when the fire alarm had started making a sound that Calypso suspected meant it was running out of battery. Unfortunately, she didn't have tools of her own so she had no idea how she'd manage to change them before the sound would drive her mad. She didn't want to give up so easily, though, so she took one of her hair pins and climbed on a chair, attempting to unscrew the fire alarm with the pin. However, she had no success. The pin was too thick and the alarm was a bit too high for her, so she had to stand on her toes to reach it in the first place. That's why, when she heard a door open, she nearly lost her balance because she got startled by the sudden sound.

"Wow, wow! Woman! What are you doing?" her flatmate yelped when he rushed to give her his hand so she wouldn't fall from the chair.

Calypso was embarrassed that he had seen that scene unfold, so she let go of his hand immediately once she was standing steadily on the floor and said a bit more rudely than what she had meant: "What does it look like? Trying to change the battery, of course."

"No offense, Sunshine, but were you really trying to open it with a hair pin?" Leo asked, amusement clear in his voice. "Like, sure, hair pins can be used for many things but I'm pretty sure there are better tools for that."

Calypso squinted at him. "First of all, don't call me Sunshine. Second of all, Mister Mechanic, I don't carry tools around everywhere unlike some people. So please get yours and change those damn batteries."

Leo was no longer affected by Calypso's tone. He was secretly happy that for once he'd be good for something.

“Gladly, Sunshine,” he replied cheerfully, emphasizing the Sunshine part. He was already wearing his toolbelt with a screwdriver peeking from it and he seemed unfazed when their fingers touched for a moment as Calypso handed him the batteries she had been planning to use.

“By the way, you’re buying the next batteries in case these will stop working too before either of us has moved out,” Calypso noted as she watched Leo picking the suitable tool for opening the fire alarm.

“That’s fair enough,” Leo said, still smiling as he focused on his mission. Calypso was slightly surprised by his calmness. She was fully aware that she was not acting like her usual self in his company, and at first it seemed to have irritated Leo, but now? He didn’t seem to care. He had taken an entirely new approach and she didn’t know what to think of it.

Leo climbed on the chair (not having issues reaching the alarm since he was about 10 centimeters taller than Calypso) and started unscrewing the lid. When he got it done, he gave the lid for Calypso to hold while he put the new batteries in. Standing in such a close proximity, Calypso noticed the scars on Leo’s olive colored arms that were left uncovered by his T-shirt. She wanted to ask about them but she didn’t know how he’d feel about it so the only thing that came out of her mouth was an “ummm…”

“Yeah? Were you gonna say something?” Leo asked nonchalantly while still switching the batteries.

“Never mind. It’s. It’s none of my business.” Calypso shrugged.

“What is?” Leo kept insisting.

“I was…” Calypso felt her cheeks getting hot. “…just wondering where you got those scars.”

Now Leo’s smile finally faded. He shook his head. “A fire. Long time ago. That’s all.” It meant she wasn’t allowed to ask more questions about that, and she got the hint.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, what happened, happened.” He sighed, climbing down the chair. “But now that we’re getting serious, can I ask you a question? Why do you act like that? Like you hate me? I’m trying my hardest to think of what I really did wrong but I can’t think of anything other than me just being generally annoying. Most people get past that in about two weeks. But I can’t get a grip of you.”

“It’s complicated.” Calypso said, similar kind of sadness in her eyes as what she’d seen in Leo’s after her question. Then she realized that maybe they did have something in common: secrets about their past they didn’t want to share. “I… I don’t think I actually hate you. It has… something to do with my past. I don’t have a lot of good experiences with people, and… that’s why I’m quite cautious when I meet someone new these days. I admit that when I first saw you, I was… prejudiced. But as I’ve gotten to know you a bit better, I’ve noticed… some of the thoughts I had of you were probably wrong.”

Leo couldn’t help but snort at that confession. “Oh, then what were you expecting? Some tall, handsome, strong, heroic guy who actually prefers spending his time with people rather than with his machines?”

“That’s not it. You gave me a kind of obnoxious picture of yourself during our first conversation. And then your dog broke my desk… I guess that was the final straw. But you did fix it. And you helped me to change the batteries too,” she pointed at the fire alarm. “And I think I understand your machine craziness. You need a distraction, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Leo admitted, starting unconsciously fiddling with his toolbox again. “Doing something with my hands always helps me when I feel anxious or… whatever.”

Calypso could relate to that. “I’m the same. I mean, I’m not as good with tools as you are, but I take care of my flowers, sew, knit, draw… that kind of stuff.”

“I see.” Leo nodded. “Hey, is it just me or did we just have our first proper conversation? Just wait till Jason and Piper are gonna hear about this!”

“What?” Calypso asked, confused about what Leo’s friends had to do with that.

“Oh, sorry.” Leo looked embarrassed, realizing he had said too much. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. But, um, the thing is, I… kinda made a deal with my friends that I would talk to you. Because they thought I was acting stupid. But I swear, this wasn’t planned, I heard the fire alarm too and I didn’t know you were already trying to take care of it. So I was 100 per cent honest about everything I said. Leo Valdez doesn’t lie.”

Calypso raised her eyebrow, but this time there was actually no maliciousness in her voice when she asked: “Oh, so you were talking about me to your friends? I wonder what you said.”

Leo’s face turned as hot as a tomato: “Not-nothing bad! Just that we weren’t off to a good start, but…”

“Relax,” Calypso stopped him, a hint of smile on her face. “You don’t have to tell me more.”

“Huh? You’re not mad?” Leo’s eyebrows disappeared behind his long, curly fringe.

“Nah. I have to admit I may have mentioned you to someone at the uni as well. Turns out she had heard of you too,” Calypso giggled at Leo’s surprised expression. The surprise didn’t last long, though, because it turned into a grin as Leo said:

“That’s the Valdez effect for you! Of course all the ladies have heard of me, I’m irresistible!”

“Right now you’re being pretty resistible, though.” Calypso rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with amusement.

“Huh? You’re not feeling my charm?”

“No! Absolutely not!” she said coldly, resting her hands on her hips.

Leo pretended to feel upset by her comment. “Just wait, I will win you over!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Calypso stuck her tongue out. “Hey, if you are done with your weirdness now, I’d like to test if the fire alarm works.”

“What?”

Before Leo had time to say more, Calypso pulled out matches from her pocket, climbed on the chair and took one stick out of the box. Before she managed to light it, though, Leo yelped, his face unnaturally pale: “No, don’t!”

“What’s wrong?” Calypso asked, turning to see him.

“It’s just… I hate the sound it makes, wait till I’m in my room,” he said but Calypso had a feeling that wasn’t the truth. She tried to think what could have possibly triggered him, and came up with only one possible solution: he was afraid of fire.

[merlinsbed]

I am so invested in thinking about this untamed star wars au now like I haven't actually written any scenes yet (or even the short fic I wanna do for the 30 day challenge that has definitely taken me more than 30 days although I maintain that nobody said it had to be 30 consecutive days so) but I've been writing down some info

like I picked out some lightsaber colors for the lans and wei ying! lan zhan gets blue, not just because it's his color, but because in the star wars extended universe it was associated with jedi guardians and things like righteousness and bravery.

xichen and lan qiren each get green, associated with values like harmony, helping others, spirituality, and just a color that's generally associated with older, wiser jedi.

wei ying gets purple because 1) it's my favorite color and he's my favorite character and 2) it represents moral ambiguity, uncertainty, and reconstruction, being a combination of red and blue (the two colors associated with the sith and jedi respectively).

there's a bunch of other stuff too like how baoshan sanren was once an active member of the order until Lan Yi's death when she went into seclusion and eventually started training her own students in ways that give various jedi masters premature grey hair. she's never bothered to actually leave the order and they've never bothered to kick her out even though they probably should at this point but you know whatever.

wei ying's path to the jedi is kinda chaotic lmao they actually tried to nab him at the age of 4 after his parents died but jiang fengmian beat them to it so he was raised by the royal jiang family for the next five years until madame yu got fed up with rumors of wei ying being her husband's biological child and you know just kinda fed up with wei ying in general so she got in touch with the jedi and was like "I know he's older than you typically take but pls take him off my hands" and the jedi were like "sure we'll come pick him up"

lan zhan and wei ying probably don't lose their virginity to each other when wei ying is still part of the order. they share some awkward teenage kisses that lan zhan freaks out about because they are jedi and they're not supposed to be romantically involved with other people. this all manages to go out the window when wei ying leaves the order because they don't see each other for like a year and when they finally run into each other again lan zhan is like "fuck it I still think this is a terrible idea but I am a lovesick fool" plus wei ying kind of dresses like a sith now even though he never joins them and lan zhan would be a liar if he didn't admit to himself that it's kind of hot

nie huaisang is the most terrifying senate representative ever but no one really knows this because he cultivates that image of someone who doesn't know what's going on while manipulating things behind the scenes. as far as everyone else is concerned though he's just this timid, soft, art loving guy who understands nothing but he still somehow gets things done?? so mingjue is like "idk how you're managing to be both incompentent and competent at the same time but it's working so just keeping doing you I guess"

in this au the first betrothal between yanli and zixuan is never broken and their marriage has a pretty rocky start. zixuan isn't outright mean to her, on account of the fact that wei ying is a powerful force user who dabbles in the darkside and zixuan will never admit it but yanli's adopted younger brother scares the shit out of him (wei ying is quite proud of how scared his brother in law is of him), but he's very cold and distant. they slowly get to know each other though and end up falling in love. yanli is more like she is during the confrontation at phoenix mountain where she straight up tells zixun that it's not her little brother's fault the rest of them suck at their cultivation and oh yeah he should also fuckin apologize to said little brother for that completely unnecessary remark about his parents. like she literally lets zixun get all puffed up on his ego and then sticks a pin in it and refuses to back down it's one of my favorite scenes. anyway the jin family is a fuckin mess of political backstabbing so yanli does her own manipulations, usually through her husband and, like huaisang, nobody really suspects her of it except her siblings who are well aware of how terrifying their sister can be when you manage to run through all of her patience

idk who wei ying's master would be. he makes it to knight before he leaves the order so he obviously was a padawan to someone, but off the top of my head I'm not sure who. baoshan sanren is busy being isolated and no padawan trained by her is considered a jedi anyway (so says the order and she was like "fine you guys suck anyway"). it definitely can't be lan qiren. for one, he would never train wei ying. he knew cangse sanren when she was alive and he's seen enough of wei ying to know he does not want to be responsible for that. plus, lan zhan and wei ying are padawans at about the same time and you can't have more than one padawan at a time so even if lqr was willing to train wei ying he couldn't.

wen ning is force sensitive, but the wens have always had close ties to the sith and during the war they're part of the seperatists so he never gets picked up by the jedi. wen qing actually does everything she can to keep him being force sensitive secret because she's afraid of a sith lord coming and taking her little brother away. wei ying ends up finding out wen ning is force sensitive and helps wen qing keep him protected while also providing some training and support so wen ning can actually make use of his force sensitivity in ways that help him and his people, but don't make it obvious that he's force sensitive.

I could go on but I wanna go watch the phantom menace for more inspiration plus I'm doing some laundry

[stressed-crow]

fanfic trope preferences

tagged by @lawlieting thank youuu! and heck yeah im stoked to do this lets go >:)

↠ slowburn or love at first sight (give me yearning or give me death)

↠ fake dating or secretly dating (both can be good but fake dating is my kinda trash heap)

↠ enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers (but even better when they are like super petty enemies....to petty lovers)

↠ “oh no, there’s Only One Bed,” or long distance correspondence (you will pry Only One Bed from my cold dead heands)

↠ hurt/comfort or amnesia (i have to say amnesia might be one of my least favorite tropes idk)

↠ fantasy au or modern au (this is more like, i read way more modern aus bcs i feel like good fantasy aus are usually longer? and i dont always have the time...)

↠ mutual pining or domestic bliss (what did i say abt Yearning fellas)

↠ smut or fluff (i guess i tend to read more explicit stuff but its like. does it count when its novel lenght thing with a sex scene at the end? i dont read much pwps so..?)

↠ canon-compliant/missing scenes or fix-it (might be heavily influenced by my current main fandom tho lol but like someone fix lan xichen pls)

↠ alternate universe or future fic (love me some au)

↠ one-shot or multichapter (i honestly tend more towards longer things but a good one shot as a treat before sleep, who coud say no)

↠ kid fic or roadtrip fic (iiii dont rly like kid fics that much? coz they usually youngify some of the characters, right, and it kinda ruins the dynamic i enjoy in the first place for me. But. Also. Mdzs. ....they have a son okay, they canonically have a son and im so weak for it)

↠ reincarnation or character death (if u dont count canon reincarnations lol but yeah, neither is rly my thing, just dont die people)

↠ arranged marriage or accidental marriage

↠ high school romance or middle-aged romance (WHO dates in high school you are CHILDREN okay i know its normal for ppl to do but bitch get some depression and queer identity crisis like the rest of us)

↠ time travel or isolated together

↠ neighbours or roommates

↠ sci-fi au or magic au (hell yeah whacky wizard shit also i am a sucker for the cliche differenciantion of like kinds of magic ppl can do based on their personalities bcs i have never developed past my YA novels phase)

↠ bodyswap or genderbend (i dont have a huge preference in this, both can be good i guess, but also neither is something i’d seek out?)

↠ angst or crack (i will read crack luc recces me bcs luc has taste but other than that im wary coz its usually written by a 12 yo)

↠ apocalyptic or mundane (how abt mundane apocalypse hmmm? like idk, the entire year of 2020?)

tagging: @trinuskareblogs, @thetrdlo, @krchov, @feathereddamsel even tho ur basically not on tumblr anymore, @panbeing @cowardlylearningtobebrave even tho i dont know if either of you reads fanfics, and @gruntie even tho i know you have never read a fanfic in your life and i suspect you dont know what half of these words are. yall are tagged bcs i lov u, not bcs it makes sense

[seekmywayout]

read you like a book

Koi wo Shiranai Bokutachi wa Ikezawa Mizuho/Aihara Eiji

Word Count: 1,579

-

He’s late again, she thinks to herself as her gaze unconsciously moves towards the library door. She’s lost count of how many times her eyes have flitted away from her responsibilities and towards the entrance instead; half expecting, half hoping to see a familiar face.

She doesn’t want to say, but she wants to see him.

Even if it’s for only a short while, she wants to see him.

As if on cue, the door slides open.

She tries to look nonchalant.

“You’re late,” she says matter-of-factly as he strides across the room, his backpack casually slung over his shoulder. He sets it on the ground in the corner of the room before approaching her. She continues, “And I was thinking you were getting better at being more punctual.”

“Oh, but I am getting better,” he replies. “I hate to admit it, but ‘library duty’ is getting ingrained in my mind now.”

She raises a single brow. “Yet you were still late.”

“Okay, I was already on my way home but something felt a little off, like I was forgetting something,” he explains to her. He stops himself for a second.

“Thought I left something behind for a moment, but then I remembered the library committee. And then I remembered you were also glaring at me earlier today.” He fakes a shudder. “So it must’ve been library duty.”

She feels her cheeks flush. “I was not glaring.”

But she can’t deny that maybe she did steal a glance or two at him during class.

“Well, even if I’m a little late, at least I’m here now,” he proclaims. “So, what’re we doing today?”

“I’ve been working on putting away the shipment of new books,” she states, pointing at her cart of books. She gestures towards another cart next to hers. “This is the ‘Return’ pile. Would you?”

He rolls up his sleeves and starts thumbing over book spines. “Sure, sure.”

They fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence as they begin their work. She puts away several non-fiction books, making a mental note in her mind of the ones that seemed useful. A first peek into new arrivals was the primary benefit of library duty, really. She suspects he may feel similarly.

It’s a comfortable silence, yet she unabashedly wants more.

“I was reading Duma Key the other day,” she brings herself to say, gaze moving towards him. 

He looks up at her, prompted by the sound of her voice, and she sees his eyes light up. “For real? You? The one by Stephen King?”

She lets out a quiet huff in response. “Yes, the one by Stephen King. I thought I would give it a try. It is… different from a lot of the other novels I’ve read, but it’s good. Terrifying, yet gripping.”

“Right? He really is the king of suspense,” he concurs. “So hard to put one of his books down once you start.”

She finds herself nodding in agreement. “I stayed up longer than I was planning to last night because of it.”

He laughs then, and she tries not to let the sound distract her too much from their conversation. “His writing does that to you. Ah, yeah, Ikezawa—kind of related, I mentioned to you before that I read A Tale of Two Cities recently, right?”

Suddenly, she feels warm. “Yes, you did.”

“Uh, since classic literature is more your thing, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for something similar?” he asks. His right hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s usually not what I read but A Tale of Two Cities was actually pretty good. Maybe there’s more out there that I’m missing.”

She doesn’t disagree with that sentiment—it’s part of the reason why she chose to read Duma Key herself. She doesn’t necessarily want to say the other part.

With his request in mind, she brings a hand to her chin and takes a moment to ponder. 

“Maybe Great Expectations or Bleak House. They are both also written by Charles Dickens. Crime and Punishment might be another one you’ll like. The author is…” She pauses. “I’ve forgotten his name; it was something Russian.”

“Oh,” he hums. “Crime and Punishment sounds interesting.”

“Ah, it’s a really fascinating character study that pulls you deep into the mind of the main character. I actually saw it earlier in the ‘Return’ pile if you’re interested in it.” She points towards his trolley of books.

“Yeah, it sounds like it’d be a good read,” he readily agrees, his attention turning to the stack of books.

As he says those words, she reaches forwards, trying to help him find the novel. She notices his own hands moving through the pile, so close to hers.

What if, she thinks, our hands touched?

It will be something straight out of a shoujo manga, she supposes. Not that she’s read many, but the few she’s flipped through at the recommendation of her classmates had similar such scenes.

Fingers touching, cheeks flushed, stolen glances…

Then they would sneak a whispered kiss, hidden away behind bookshelves, away from the prying eyes of fellow library committee members.

It would be their secret—soft and sweet and heart-wrenching.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks suddenly, face turned towards her.

His voice breaks her out of her thoughts and she’s nothing short of scandalized at how overactive her imagination has become.

She clears her throat and attempts to sound unperturbed as she answers, “Yes, I’m fine.”

I’m not fine.

He cocks an eyebrow at her and she tries not to think too much about the genuine concern that crosses his features, or how their fingers never actually touched. She quietly wishes they had. “You sure? You just kinda froze for a bit; had a funny look on your face, to be honest.”

“That’s just my face,” she instinctively snaps. He startles slightly and she bites her tongue. He has no ill intent, she knows.

“Yes, I’m sure; I’m fine,” she says again, consciously changing her tone. “But thank you for your concern, Aihara.”

I’m not fine, not normal. Not when he looks at her like that. Not when her heart beats so fast there’s no way that it’s natural. Not when her mind drifts so easily towards thoughts of him, of him and her.

“Well, anyway, I found the book.” He holds it up to show her and starts leafing through the pages. “Thanks for the recommendation!”

She watches as he flips to the beginning of the novel and skims through the text. He mouths the words to himself silently as he reads; she especially likes the way his teeth catch on his lower lip as he does so. 

“Solid start,” he says eventually, before closing the book and setting it aside. “Thanks a ton, Ikezawa.”

He looks up then, and their eyes meet. She abruptly turns her head away.

I was staring at him again, she realizes. But it’s hard not to.

“... I hope you’ll enjoy it,” she responds, her voice softer than she intended it to be. He gives her a crooked smile in return and looks back towards the mountain of books that still need to be sorted. Quietly, she follows suit.

It’s hard not to stare when he gives her those smiles.

It’s hard not to stare when she doesn’t know what to do with the rapid beating of her heart.

It’s hard not to stare when she wants him to look at her too.

And maybe he’s not suited for love after all, as he says, but she’ll wait. She’ll wait because not too long ago, she wasn’t either. Now, she lets the feeling slowly bloom in her chest, cherishes the warmth that spreads throughout her body at the sight of him, and the bursts of happiness that erupt whenever he smiles in her direction.

But, she doesn’t know what to do or how to act around him.

She hasn’t felt this confused about something since she first read Ulysses and found herself grappling against the literary behemoth.

If only she could read him like a book, she thinks. Sometimes, she feels like she still hasn’t got past the cover.

She wonders instead if she is easy to read—if her face betrays every emotion, spoils every hidden plot twist within her heart.

She wonders how her story will unfold.

“You know, Aihara,” she speaks up, “there’s another story that I’m interested in.”

They both look up at each other while their hands continue to fumble through their book sorting duty.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” he asks, sincerely.

It’s cute. She finds herself inwardly cursing her small crush on Hugh Jackman. 

“Is it another Charles Dickens?” he guesses.

She shakes her head. “No, this story hasn’t started yet.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” he questions with a slight tilt of his head.

She feels an uncharacteristically soft, girlish giggle bubble to her lips. “I’ll tell you, but not today. Some other day.”

He crosses his arms to his chest and a contemplative frown forms on his lips. It’s quiet for a moment as she watches him, wondering what he’ll say to her, then he flashes her a lopsided grin. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that, Ikezawa.”

“And I’ll let you,” she says without missing a beat.

He blinks.

Then, he beams, “I’m looking forward to it!”

She finds herself smiling back naturally, because—

It will be the beginning of their story.

-

a/n:

set in an AU where I can be happy. I didn’t think too much about timelines but it’d probably fit somewhere before her confession ig

this fic is for all the Ikezawa fans out there, all 5 of us. Also I wish I could’ve written them in like… an actual relationship but that’s legitimately not my writing style for the most part lol. Maybe I could try again another time. 

...I actually have not read a single book I mentioned in this story LOL

also I may end up posting this to ao3 later and de-anon myself but w/e, it’s nothing i haven’t done before tbh.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled.)

"It's an enticing nectar, laced with deceits, Piercing straight through my heart-- ARROW" -ARROW, English translation

God, it's already my 2nd-to-last square to write for? That's kinda sad... It's been a hot, what, 6 months since I've written some TC? Truth be told, I was planning on filling "Sleep Deprivation" with Derek, but then a request came along... I still plan on finishing the WIP I have lying around for it because it was really fun to throw that on a Word file. Also are y'all ready for Uncle Fly's wacky nervous angsty wild ride because I guess this is set in an AU-ish timeline where PGS was found much earlier than 2021. This is kinda meant to be set in 2020 because why not, but the one mention of the date would rather remind you of 2019. Let's just say Derek is like your truly's and born at the end of the year. Anyway! The people in the TC server were really excited for this one so I hope I won't disappoint them. I tried some new and experimental things there so I hope it won't be too distracting or too much italics. Btw, can we bring the TC fandom back to life for 2020? It's the 15th anniversary of the franchise and the year Trauma Team happens in!

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

Arrow to the Heart

Summary: GUILT getting eradicated didn't mean the staff of Caduceus USA were allowed to roam around freely without risking their lives every minute. Angie, Derek and Leslie all saw that through a different lense, caught between the memories of a dire crisis for Caduceus Europe and the drops spilled all over the operation table.

Fandom: Trauma Center Relationships: Pre-rel Derek/Angie, platonic Angie & Leslie, some focus on platonic Tyler & Derek

Wordcount: 5K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version available here.

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As a blurry ceiling appears before her, a soft, familiar voice makes itself heard.

“Angie?”

Tilting her head to the right, struck with a terrible case of lethargy, her vision finally focuses: it’s her friend and workmate, hovering over her. She has a concerned expression on her face and a notepad in her hands, clutched against her chest.

“L-Leslie…?”

 As her eyes finish focusing, she realizes she knows this place: it’s a room at Caduceus. Why she’s there is vague at best and undecipherable at worst, but her throat is hoarse and she doesn’t feel like asking questions. She can only guess she still has some anaesthetic running in her system, considering the dull pain she has on her chest and shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s me, good deduction,” she says with a soft giggle. “How are you doing?”

“I’m… alive, I suppose…”

“You can thank Derek for that. He’s stabilized you before you’ve arrived there. I don’t know how he managed to pull that out, but I guess that’s what surgeons like him can do.”

Oh, right. She kind of remembers something now…

 Turns out it was all a trap.

 Well, of course it was. Now that he thought about it, something really wasn’t right with how they even got there. They got called for a situation eerily similar to a possible GUILT case, assuming the patient could have contracted PGS due to the former being extinct for the past two years of so. The condition of said patient was declining by the second, so they were rushed together to the scene.

If he went in like it was business as usual, Angie had picked on the negative vibes she was getting from it all, urging him to go slower and be more cautious. Dumb and naïve as he still kind of was, he preferred running around the place, wondering where the patient could be. As he called for one, absolutely divulging they were from Caduceus (with Angie not-so-silently trying to remind him not to do that and exert caution), the only thing he found was sudden, piercing, burning pain.

 “Wait… I… What happened…?”

“We wanted to ask you that,” Leslie replies in a more solemn tone. “From what little we could gather, Derek and you got shot when going for an on-field surgery.

“Ah, I… I do remember that… Turned out that…”

Turns out there had never been any patient, just a Delphi renegade, armed with a gun, few bullets and quite literally nothing left after escaping confinement from the rest of society.

“Do you remember anything else?”

Angie’s memories swim for a moment, trying to gather and brace themselves. Drop by drop, tear by tear, wave by wave, it comes back to her, slowly, surely. She clears her throat.

 Before he ran out of bullets, the renegade cowered away, leaving them with nothing but contemplating their own injuries. Hiding behind the wall of a little street, not too far from the stench of the almost-full trash bins and surrounded by heavy almost-silence, they were finally safe enough to open a light. To his displeasure, as soon as he tried to see whatever’s surrounding them, he spotted two things he didn’t like in the slightest: their surgery kit on the ground, half open, and a panting Angie next to the slightly scattered tools.

The first thing he noticed were the two bullet holes she had in her left shoulder and the right side of her abdomen. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to have hurt a lot of vital components and didn’t delve too deep into her flesh. Still, if he didn’t do anything, even with help coming their way eventually, she’d die on them; and he didn’t plan on letting that course of events happen. Not on his watch, never.

He sent a distress signal from his phone to Caduceus, then turned back to her, already grabbing the gloves and antibacterial gel from the case.

 “I see…” Leslie seems conflicted, to say the least. “At least, you got out alive of this terrible situation. We even expect you to make a quick recovery!”

“My wounds aren’t too bad, then?” Her voice was starting to win over the sleeping gas. Good.

“No! Again, they’d have been worse if Derek hadn’t stabilized you on the scene, but your wounds really aren’t bad. That man must have been a lousy shooter.”

“R-right… Derek tried to…”

 “Angie? You’re still with me?” He asked, trying to get her to stir back to consciousness.

Dishevelled strands of hair move with her quick, shallow breathing. She was obviously suffering, but nodded anyway, the blood already pouring from the wound and staining her pink uniform.

“Okay good… I… I can’t afford to anesthetize you, right now, so… I’m really sorry for what’s gonna happen!”

Her face slowly distorted even further.

“Y… You’re not gonna do that, right, Derek…?” She had an awkward, pained smile full of disbelief on her face.

“If I don’t, you may… You may not make it!”

She shut her eyes close for a few moments, then sighed heavily, slowly. He expected a rebuttal of some sorts, despite how much blood was spilling from the bullet holes, but she instead smiled and gazed at him with drooping eyes.

“…Then, let’s start the operation, Doctor.”

“I’ll try making it as painless as possible,” he repeated to both her and himself. “I won’t let you down, Angie.”

 Leslie’s lips were sewn shut by her retelling of their conversation in the little alleyway.

“To be honest with you… His job was sloppy. The bandages he put on your injuries weren’t straight. Of course, usually, we’d have had a conversation with him about that, but…”

“But?”

“Because of the circumstances, I don’t think we’re allowed to be any harsh on him for rubbing antibiotic gel improperly.”

“Oh God.”

“What’s wrong, Angie?”

“I remember that now. Vaguely, but… I remember.”

 The pain in his chest was excruciating, but that was besides the point. Angie needed him, right at that moment, to be strong and do his job. He had become a surgeon to save lives and what was a surgeon if he couldn’t do so for his assistant, his most trusted friend and ally? Besides, he needed to repay her for the time she helped Naomi save him from the demons trying to tear his heart apart. With blurring vision and trembling hands, he’d do his job, fulfil his mission. Even if it were to be its last, he’d successfully conduct this operation.

It wasn’t like he was the only one in pain either. Angie’s usually soft features were distorted by the suffering he was inflecting upon her by not being able to anesthetize her. Still, as much as he desired Cybil would be there by their side to allow for such a thing, she wasn’t there with us; so it was all on him, with the little he had at his disposal to deal with this.

 “I kept passing out and waking up, only to lose consciousness again. It was… terrifying. I thought we’d both die here and there, again and again.”

“When we found the both of you, you were barely conscious and your dress was half-zipped. Derek lost consciousness before he could finish dressing you back up.”

God, she must have been out of it for her not have been embarrassed to be so exposed in such a creepy context. The circumstances are all to blame on that one.

“…How is he, then?”

Leslie goes silent.

“How’s Derek?” Angie repeats, impatience and fear building in her throat.

The silence gets heavier. And heavier. And heavier.

 The scene was grizzly to say the least. He had dropped blood everywhere his hands had gone for the past minutes. Angie’s vitals weren’t smiling in the slightest, her moments of consciousness getting shorter and shorter each time she couldn’t tolerate what he was pulling her through. It was for her good, only for her survival chances not to plummet to the ground.

He was getting there too: he had removed the bullet in her abdomen and patched that up with some membranes they miraculously had packed in (which, considering they had suspected PGS, didn’t make a lot of sense; but Angie still put them in just in case they’d face Deftera or Tetarti). He was on his way to removing the second one, even if his hands weren’t steady anymore and his vision was turning into a guessing game if he didn’t spend a few long seconds focusing on one object. Still, adrenaline was keeping him running, anxiety and fear of death ringing behind his eyes and in all of his nerves, so he’d manage.

Not like he had a choice anyway.

 “…He’s not woken up yet,” Leslie finally says with a heavy sigh and her hands twitching right under Angie’s gaze. “Tyler was supposed to operate on him, but he broke down when realizing how bad the damage was.”

 Leslie was tenser than ever as she presided to the pre-operation conference with Tyler and Sidney. The nervous glance the former was darting towards the latter just showed he knew how wrong the situation was before she could even speak up about it. She had always hated being a bird of bad news; this wouldn’t change today.

“The patient is a twenty-seven-year old man who got shot twice in the abdomen. The bullets don’t seem to have hit anything major, only grazed them. The few things we need to be wary about are the high risk of internal and external haemorrhage, along with the possibility of him being afflicted with PGS happening as the patient previously contracted GUILT, these being Kyriaki and—”

“The fuck is that, Les’?!”

 Tyler’s voice was oddly serious. The death stare he gave her made her legs shake and her arms shiver further than they had done when she had first learnt of the situation.

“W-what do you mean?”

“The patient’s name! It’s… It’s some kind of sick joke, right?! That has to be!”

“There are no “jokes” of any kind here, Dr Chase,” Sidney intervened. “If we don’t operate immediately, he’ll die. Get ready right now.”

“…Of course, Director.”

 “So… Then… is Derek…?”

Her colleague takes time to find a way to answer. Her chest seems to weigh like lead threatening to snap the rope keeping it standing. During their few years working at the same place against the same threats, she doesn’t remember having seen Leslie this stressed, this anxious about anything, especially not when the life of someone they both knew was the matter. Then again, Angie wasn’t in the USA, when Caduceus Europe had to break terrible news to their American counterpart. She was right there, in the middle of the panic and the tears she didn’t want to spill. And even then, even when remembering how nauseous she’d get just thinking about what could be happening to him, what could happen would Naomi be unable to save the day —

Even with all of this considered, right at that moment, Angie feels like she’s just opened Pandora’s Box.

 Tyler had tears flowing down his face, hands trembling, as he painfully removed the second bullet. It was the first time she had ever seen him in such a state, at least, the first time since Amy had gotten saved by, well… the very man they were currently trying to save, whose vitals kept trying to plummet to the ground as they watched the blood they were transfusing into his veins pour right out of the wounds. The syringe he was holding with unstable fingers had just hit the ground, breaking in a thousand shards and splattering some stabilizer around the crash site.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. Not that she didn’t have her own idea as to what was going so awfully incorrectly at the moment, but she was still surprised by how distressed Tyler was. For such a naturally talented surgeon to panic this way…

“I-I don’t know!!” He screamed, breathing hitching, hands crimson. I just… I just…”

 Before he could put an end to his stuttering, a new party entered the room, dressed in scrubs and already grabbing the forceps on the surgical tool tray.

“Step aside and calm yourself down, Dr Chase. I’ll take care of it.”

He gulped, but nonetheless, Tyler stepped back from the operation table, right as she moved to dry his tears with a tissue.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I don’t know…”

“Enough, we’re running out of time. Please monitor the vitals for me, that’s all I ask.”

“Will do, Doctor.”

“Leslie, get a syringe of stabilizer ready”.

“On it, Doctor.”

 Dr Hoffman’s arrival changed the air in the OR from desperate to tense and solemn. There simply was the feeling he’d manage to pull a miracle like Derek had done so before their eyes before. In a heavy and serious tone, one that didn’t betray any panic whatsoever, he ended the conversation:

“Let’s save him, once and for all. Failure isn’t an option.”

 “If it wasn’t for Dr Hoffman stepping in, we’d have lost Derek. I honestly never saw Tyler gets this wound up by anything in the OR like that before…”

“That must have been terrifying to see…”

“And it was! We went over it after the operation was over, and he confessed to me he couldn’t seeing him that way. Makes me wonder how you pulled through him getting infected with GUILT…”

 Sidney suddenly entered the room, almost as suddenly as everyone was convoked here, his workplace phone in hand, eyes sombre behind his glasses reflecting part of the neon lights of their lounge. It had been a slow day until now as the GUILT epidemic had been mostly subdued, leaving them with the wiggle room and luxury to wait for a patient to come in; even if that didn’t make any of them think any less of how odd it was for them to be called here so brutally. Still, from the corner of her eye, Leslie noticed something else that was weird: Victor was there too.

Victor, who never came out of his laboratory unless forced to, was there with us, crossing his arms as he walked behind Sidney and laid back against the wall. From the gazes she exchanged with Tyler, she knew he found it suspicious too. If even Victor was there, it meant Sidney was more than deadly serious about this.

 “Is everyone here yet?”

“Victor was the last person we were waiting on,” Stephen said from behind Sidney, even if the questioning expression in his eyes and on his face indicated he must have been as clueless as they all were.

“Good,” he replied as he came closer, putting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “Everyone, if I have gathered you all here on such a short notice. However, what I have to tell you is too urgent not to.”

“And what’s that urgent thing?” Victor asked.

“I got a call from Caduceus Europe.”

 The sheer idea of their European counterpart contacting them now, right as they had both Derek and Angie there, and prompting Sidney to call them all in was rising all the possible red flags it could. The air got tenser with just a sentence.

“And what for?” Tyler reacted with a nervous grin on his face. “Miller can’t have possibly called you just for a hamburger recipe.”

“Would you mind taking this seriously, Dr Chase?”

“S-sure.”

“As I was saying, a few minutes ago, we got a call from Caduceus Europe. They were asking for your permission to proceed with a GUILT intervention.”

“Why didn’t they just ask Stiles to do it then?” Victor chimed in again. “He has his own agency, doesn’t he? No need to ask us all for that kind of stuff.”

“That’d be because Derek is the patient.”

The news cut through the air like a hot blade through glass.

“…You’ve got to be shittin’ us,” was all that any of them said about it, courtesy of Victor.

 “I wasn’t the one operating on him directly, that must have been how… It wasn’t any easier on the nerves, that much I can tell you…”

“I’m sure it was. We were all tense that day, too… Tyler kept asking me if he’d be fine. We really weren’t sure if Dr Kimishima could… That’s her name, right?”

“It is.”

“So, yeah, we weren’t sure at all, so we all were super stressed until Sidney told us it’d be all okay…”

 The door to their lounge opened again. As soon as it did, Tyler jumped up from the couch, Leslie following shortly after. Victor tried his hardest not to look like he was somewhat concerned. Appeared before them their director whom, by the look of the traits on his face, was less tense than he had been around thirty minutes before. God had time been slow and cruel on their hands…

“How’s Derek?!” Tyler immediately interrogated, running on legs that had previously trembled under the weight of his worries.

“He’s made it. Barely, shall I add, but he made it. The operation was a success.”

A collective sigh of relief happened as Tyler’s legs buckled up again, with Leslie barely managing to catch him before he’d have hit the floor. They didn’t lose anyone today and, in the end, that was all that mattered, right?

 “Still, with how anxious Tyler was back then, it’s no wonder why he lost his composure when it seemed like there’d be no end to it.”

Angie’s breath caught up in her throat. The painkillers had subdued enough for her consciousness to be back to its usual sharpness, even with the lingering rests of lethargy from blood loss. The IV in her wrist was just the physical manifestation of that.

“…what do you mean by that, Leslie?”

Her workmate’s shoulders tensed as she looked away, pinching her lips, before sighing.

“We…”

 “We underestimated the extent of his injuries…!” Leslie yelped as Tyler’s hands had managed to take out one of the bullets.

“J-Jesus Derek, how could you have still been conscious when there was that in your chest?!”

They both stared, dumbfounded and terrified, at the hole very much close to the heart still bleeding under their watch.

“It grazed the aorta… If it had been a little closer….”

“…he’d have been dead on arrival, yeah. Let’s… Let’s remove that bitch…”

Tyler’s voice sounded hesitant and about to let a sorrow escape.

 The operation continued on with the smell of blood and gunpowder filling the atmosphere of the room. Both were too focused and with too much pressure on their shoulders to let that hinder them in their mission, even if she could notice her surgeon’s grip getting looser by the moment.

“Vitals dropping!”

“I don’t have the time for that bullshit! Inject stabilizer yourself!!”

Without a word, Leslie did as told and grabbed the syringe.

“That… That fucker just had to use his fancy voodoo powers before passing out, didn’t he…?”

“How would you even know that…?”

A familiar beep resounded again.

“V-vitals dropping!”

“…yeah, that.”

 Still, his pupils regularly darted to the screen displaying the vitals. Sweat drops flowed profusely all over his face, more than any other person she had ever assisted before. The more tranquil aura he gave off compared to the failure-paranoid Derek was nowhere to be seen…

The forceps almost fell into the body when it slipped from his hands, the second bullet escaping his grasp and landing near the aorta yet again. Breathing quickening, almost wheezing, he fixed his mistake with a display of cracking down under the fears piling up on his mind. Tears started flowing down from his eyes as the vitals continued falling and falling, the third bullet still doing its damage…

 “Oh my God…” Angie doesn’t have the words. She really doesn’t.

“Turns… Turns out he got shot four times. Your assailant had six bullets on him and they all hit.”

“That’s…” Her throat was knotting on itself. “That’s…”

A memory suddenly hit her.

“Wait, Leslie. You mentioned Tyler supposed Derek had used his Healing Touch on me, right?”

“Yeah. I’m still sure it’s just a hunch he had, but he did. I think it’s because he panicked when realizing the vitals kept dropping further and further.”

“It’s not just that. At least, I think it isn’t… I’m certain he did use it.”

“Why would Derek even do that? He was already injured as it is, he was lucky he didn’t pass out here and there to begin with!”

“…I suspect it’s because he… knew that.”

Her colleague stood there, dumbfounded, before her eyes grew wide and she almost bit her hand in realization.

 Oh no, no, not now! It wasn’t time to pass out, not yet. Angie still needed him, he had to stay awake! Issue was, even with all the determination in the world, it seemed like he wouldn’t have the time to… That’s right! Time! He was one of the few people on Earth who could play around with its flow. All he had to do to save Angie was to draw a star and focus hard enough with what was left of his adrenaline and clarity of mind to finish the operation or, at least, what he could finish of it.

Success: time was now going at quarter of its speed. He saw everything, now: how to remove the second and last bullet, how fast he could put on the membrane and seamlessly apply it to the injured flesh with the gel, how to give Angie her dignity back now that he’d finished on her. She’d be fine, she’d be fine; he was hearing the sirens coming their way, seeing the blue lights blinking.

 However, as soon as the distortion of time started fading, he felt all of his energy crash back. The world started spinning as he finished zipping her dress close, his hand giving up halfway through as it went limp and his other was too focused on rubbing his eyes under his glasses. Something drops from his mouth yet again.

It was no use resisting. The world span and span around him, blurring into one vague landscape of blacks and blues, the sounds gathering together to form a cacophonic white noise looping in the back of his mind. With the tools falling from his hands, he all but crashed on his patient, workmate and best friend all at once, eyelids fluttering as the black spots invading his sight made themselves more and more invasive.

When time resumed its course, all Derek could sense was the darkness of his vision, the coldness of his skin and the taste of copper in his mouth.

 “I mean, I’ll believe you on that one, you know him and his process much more than I do…”

To be frank, after telling all of this to Leslie, Angie just wants to cry. This has all been a terrible, atrocious, hideous mess and she’d have liked it to remain buried inside her mind.

“He’s such an idiot…! He could’ve died, and yet…. And yet he still operated on me!”

Leslie remained silent, but gave her a candid smile and handed her a handkerchief.

“That’s Derek for you… I’ve heard he tried not to make you worried when he got infected a few months back too.”

“That… didn’t really work,” she remarks with a soft of snicker in her voice. “He’s such an idiot… Sometimes, I wonder what stupid things he’d do if we weren’t there…”

“Saving you, it seems. He realized his wounds were less deep than yours.”

“…where is he, by the way?”

“Wait, you haven’t guessed yet?”

 Leslie seems genuinely surprised, even if her astonished expression soon gets replaced with her usual amused smile and bright eyes.

“He’s behind the curtain,” she replies as she points to the item in question with the tip of her thumb.

Angie’s entire face suddenly catches on fire and her weakened condition almost makes her head go for a spin.

“Oh God… Has he woken up yet?!”

“If he wasn’t before, I don’t think he could sleep through all of this for much longer, y’know.”

 Tyler’s voice suddenly rises in the room as his hand draws the curtain open. He gets up from a chair sitting by another bed with that dumb grin of his brightly plastered on his face.

“Geez are you ladies noisy…!”

Dumbfounded, embarrassed and relieved all the same, Angie just stares in complete silence. Leslie giggles under her breath.

“But hey, at least you’ve almost awoken my patient by doing that! That guy’s been sleepin’ for the past few hours!”

Leslie and he exchange a glance, a smirk on both of their faces.

“I think we should leave the both of you alone,” she then adds. “Just be careful about your injuries, okay, Angie? You’re the more reasonable of the two on that front, so I trust you with handling them properly… If you need help, don’t hesitate ringing for a nurse!”

On that, the both of them leave, and she isn’t sure what to make of it all.

 However, Angie has always been a worrywart, she knows that very much, so she still tries getting up from bed. It’s difficult and taking her ages since her legs feel so fragile and her wounds bother her, her shoulder still feeling very much sore. She pulls through the annoyances anyway, rising to her feet while supporting himself with the wheeled IV stand by her left side, gradually making her way to the other bed in the room and sitting on the chair still left warm by Tyler’s presence. Seems like he was there for quite a long time too…

Unlike whatever movie was playing back in her head, her eyes soon lie upon a peacefully sleeping Derek, whose face is still a bit too pale to her liking. She goes as far as to making sure he is doing as fine as she’d like him to: his chest is rising and falling steadily, calmly; his breathing is stable, only needed to be helped a little by the pipe in his nose; his vitals are doing just fine on the screen next to the bed beeping regularly.

Life suddenly sounds very peaceful.

 Right as she settles into the seat, putting the pillow she’s borrowed from her bed on it, Derek stirs awake. It’s his eyelids slowly fluttering back open at first, then a little cough, and finally his vision coming to be, eyes locking into hers. He looks somewhat different without his glasses: even if she’s seen him before without them, it’s still an odd feeling to get, somewhat like an uncanny valley effect. They smile to each other.

“A-Ang…?” His voice is hoarse, which was predictable considering the extent of the trauma his body must have taken.

“That sure is me. How are you feeling?”

“I guess… not worse than when I got GUILT…?”

She’s heard something like that before, albeit differently…

 Right as she settled into the seat, her folder still clenched against her chest, Derek stirred awake. First his eyelids slowly fluttered back open, then it was a little cough escaping his mouth, and finally his vision came to be as his eyes locked into hers. He did look somewhat different without his glasses: even if she had seen him before without them, the time he had spent three days in bed sleeping coming to her mind first, it was still an odd feeling to get, somewhat like an uncanny valley effect. She smiled to him.

“A-Ang…?” His voice was hoarse, which would obviously happen considering the extent of the trauma his body had been put through.

“That sure is me… How are you feeling?

“…like trash… To say I’m putting patients through that…”

“It’s for their good. It was for yours too.”

“I suppose you’re right, Angie…”

 With relief washing all over her, she put her free hand hand on his, mindful of the IV inserted in his wrist.

“What about you never do that again? I told you that was suspicious!”

“I gotta listen to you more often… How are you…?”

He asked that before too. How are you, Angie?, when she wasn’t the one who had gotten infected by a bioweapon. That man has the most skewed priorities of them all, she swears…

“I’m doing just fine. Thank you very much for saving me, Derek. Still, if you could not die on us again, it’d be appreciated.”

He snickers. “You’re welcome…”

 Still, and even with her greatest efforts, Angie feels tears running down her cheeks and wetting something under them.

“What’s wrong…?” He asks, concern lacing his tired voice.

“I… I got so scared I’d lose you!! W-when I saw you operating on me, I… I…. I wondered why you were doing this instead of sparing your energy!”

“I’m a doctor, Angie… I save people, so I saved you. I… couldn’t just sit there and watch you bleed out, in pain…”

“But you were injured!”

“And so were you… Everything’s fine, now, right? I’m here, you’re here…”

She sniffles her sorrow back in and tries giving him a smile, rubbing the early tears away from her eyes.

“You… You’re right. Everything’s fine now.”

That grants her a smile.

“Good…”

Still holding his hand, they fall into a comfortable silence, her arms resting on his mattress.

 For now, there’s no point in looking back at the past and remembering how terrible things can get. She can, at least for a moment, let go of all of her fears and remain serene, in the safety of a haven she keeps rediscovering, by the side of her favourite person. There’s nothing quite like the calm that comes after a violent, red-tinted storm, nothing quite the reassurance that comes after getting terrified and nothing quite the sun which makes rainbow after the rain has stopped pouring down.

Truly, sometimes, life can be merciful and full of light, as long as it wants to shine…

[all-hail-the-witcher]

really funny and stupid soulmate au request: whatever your soulmate is singing, you automatically join them in a duet wherever you are (any ship is good)

okay full disclaimer, I have n o i d e a what this is, the words just kinda happened and its really memey but somehow works ??

_______

ship: ralbert

genere: meme floof with a side of theater nerds

warnings: mikeys dog, too many bill wurtz references, comrades, an obscene amount of winking, Albert is a disaster lighting technician and race has no respect for lighting gels, high school musical

words: 1832 wat

editing: nah comrade

_______

If anyone knew anything about Albert it was that he always carried a packet of rosemary in his left pocket “in case he ran out of weed,” that he was trying to get excommunicated from the catholic church “just for lols,” and that he hated high school musical. The last one was particularly damning because all of his friends were theater nerds. (Albert prefered to yell at all of them from the lighting booth and assert his dominance by randomly having people shine the spotlight into the wings where people made out during rehearsal.) He had even gone as far to ban the soundtrack from ever being sang in his presence. Spot said his unrequited hatred for the movies were directly related to the fact that he had not yet found his soulmate and he didn’t like them because it portrayed love he had not yet found, but Albert loudly disagreed saying that the plots were merely just “shit on a stick.”

Cue Racetrack Higgins, the hot new kid in town.

When he showed up to the audition for the school musical, some dumb title that Albert hadn’t taken the time to note (he only had two brain cells and one of them was reserved for figuring out where he was gonna get his weed from and the other was reserved for coming up with new ways to get excommunicated), he had not expected to see a literal angel.

Alright so maybe it wasn’t an angel. Rather, a blonde kid who looked kinda vaguely like a beanpole. And quoting Bill Wurtz. Couldn’t forget that.

The ethereal beanpole had introduced himself after a particularly memorable incident about ten minutes before the audition started. Somehow, he had ended up on the catwalk holding a stack of painstakingly organized gels over the edge as if he were about to drop them.

Now, Albert was not the most organized lighting technician and he did enjoy a bit of mischief every now and then, but only if he was the one pulling the mischief. Plus, he had just organized all the gels and didn’t want to do that again. He’d much rather hide Spot’s keys in the janitor’s closet. So he did the natural thing.

“HEY BEANPOLE! IF YOU DROP THOSE I WILL CUT OFF YOUR HAIR AND FEED IT TO THE SPIDER IN THE BROOM CLOSET!”

The kid’s head snapped up. But, instead of looking like a squirrel about to be chased by a hungry seal shaped pitbull that smelled vaguely of thai food and cheese like the freshman did, the boy winked mischievously and let the gels dangel further over the edge. Then, in a singsong voice that Albert could only describe as the one belonging to his true Lord and Savior, Bill Wurtz (take that catholic church), said: “how bout I do anyway?”

Albert’s next insult died on his lips and he settled instead for glaring at the sexy beanpole with all the power of a pissed off techie.

“What?” The boy pouted, “can’t think of a good comeback?”

“Listen beanpole-”

“It’s Race.”

“Whatever.” Albert stomped down the catwalk in his black timbs, being sure to make as much noise as possible in order to attract the scattered actors below them. “Let it be known that while I did appreciate your history of japan quote, I do not appreciate your presence on my cat walk. And, if you to continue to dangle my gels over the edge like that, I will make sure you never get cast in Wanda’s World-”

“Its Animal Farm.”

“-and that you never get your clammy little paws on a single ounce of weed during your time in this hellhole. Capisce?”

“Weed is for losers,” Race said, thwacking the pile of gels on the catwalk with a muffled bang, scattering the top ones, much to Albert’s dismay. “I prefer vape myself, much more sleek and trendy.” Then, much to Albert’s surprise, he winked, turned on his heel, and exited the catwalk, tipping an imaginary hat before descending the stairs back down into the auditorium.

“Well fuck him right in the nipple,” Albert cursed to himself as he scooped up the pile of gels and stalked back to the lighting booth where he threw them unceremoniously on the ground - he’d sort back through them later. Instead, he sat on his beloved spinny chair that he had stolen from his history teacher back in 9th grade, wrapped the blue fuzzy blacket around himself he’d stolen from Spot last year, threw his feet up on the lightboard, and resolved himself to watching the auditions.

Race, apparently, had been correct, the musical was a rendition of Animal Farm. Although, why someone would write a musical version of a book about a bunch of patronizing pigs making everyone call each other comrade was beyond him.

Albert gradually began to tune out the auditions eventually pulling his beats from around his neck onto his ears and playing random indie songs instead of listening to the screeching below him.

However, once Race took the stage he paused his music out of curiosity. If he was going to have to deal with this kid all year, he might as well see if he had any talent. However, when he heard the opening chords of what was unmistakably a High School Musical song, he groaned and pulled his beats back on, cranking up the volume to drown out the atrocities of the shitty song.

This plan, however, was foiled when he found himself somehow singing a song that was not the one that was playing through his headphones. Initially, Albert ignored it, too dead set on his own blocking out of Race’s singing to care what his mouth was saying. But as it got progressively louder he ripped his beats off in frustration to see what exactly was going on.

To his utmost horror he realized that he was singing a duet with Race.

Albert’s stomach dropped. He knew exactly what this meant. And there was no way that it could be tue. It had to be a glitch. There was no way in hell that his soulmate was the same kid who had tantalized him on his very own catwalk with his precious lighting gels and a horrendous yet perfectly wonderful Bill Wurtz quote not a half hour before.

And there was absolutely no way that he was going to discover his soulmate by singing a high school musical song infront of all of his friends. No fucking way.

In a panic, Albert clapped his hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds coming from it. That way he could play it off as if it had never happened and continue living his perfectly happy soulmate-less life.

Much to his relief, Race stopped singing mere moments later and he pulled his hand away from his mouth, taking a deep breath of relief. However, this was immediately converted back to anxiety as he began to sing the second verse of the song against his will.

“Take my hand, I’ll take the lead

And every turn, you’ll be safe with me

Don’t be afraid, afraid to fall,

You know I’ll catch you through it all”

Race’s head snapped up and a bright smile formed on his face as he continued to sing, heading toward the steps to the lighting booth. A hush had fallen over the auditorium. Albert briefly wished that he had not tried so hard to get excommunicated because maybe some divine power would have been able to save him from the embarrassment that he was about to experience.

“And you can’t keep-”

“Even a thousand miles can’t keep us apart

“Us apart, cause my heart is-”

“Cause my heart is wherever you are”

Vaguely, Albert heard the familiar clang of someone slowly mounting the steps to the catwalk and he attempted to duck his head further into his black sweatshirt to no avail.

“It’s like catching lightning, the chances of finding someone like you

It’s one in a million the chances of feeling the way we do

And with every step together, we just keep on gettin better

So i can i have this dance, can i have this dance?

Can i have this dance?”

Then, as if being in such close proximity to Rae had some profound influence on him, Albert felt his legs begin to carry him toward the catwalk and, subsequently, the annoying beanpole himself.

“Oh, no mountains too high and no oceans too wide

Cause together or not, our dance won’t stop

Let it rain, let it pour

What we have is worth fighting for

You know I believe that we were meant to be, yeah”

And then, somehow, it was one of those Dramatic Theater Scenes™ that Albert usually hated so much, but somehow he didn’t mind this time. This must have been the feeling that his friends had so often described to them upon finding their soulmates: complete euphoria, as if nothing in the world existed except for them.

Albert found himself getting closer and closer to Race until they were practically ontop of eachother, his hands clutching at Race’s green minecraft shirt as they continued to sing, oblivious to the audience that they had accumulated.

“It’s like catching lightning the chances of finding someone like you

Like you

It’s one in a million the chances of feeling the way, the way we, we do

And with every step together, we just keep on gettin better

So can I have this dance, can I have this dance?

Can I have this dance?

Can I have this dance?

Can I have this dance?”

The auditorium below them erupted in a chorus of cheers and Albert felt his face blush bright red under his black beanie, causing him to pull away from Race as he returned to reality. Startled, Race looked at him, but then his face transformed into the mischievous smirk that Albert was beginning to suspect was customary for him.

“Guess you wanna save face in front of all your friends, huh? A badass like you can’t have feelings and all that.” He winked and Albert rolled his eyes. “That’s okay, you don’t have to kiss me now if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

Now it was Albert’s turn to roll his eyes as he hovered his lips mere inches from Race’s and said the same thing that he had been told not too long ago: “how bout I do anyway?” and smashed their lips together, earning a loud round of applause from the crown below and one lone whoop from Spot.

As Albert was passionately mushing his lips against his soulmate, he couldn’t help but think to himself, maybe high school musical wasn’t so bad after all.

_______

im actually low key proud of this like maybe I still know how to write lol

feedback is always appreciated, hmu to be on the tag list

tag list

@fairly-awkward-trashcan@well-the-kids-do-too@racetrackcook@ughwaitwhat@aw-jus-let-em-try@tommy-s-s0cks@voice-foundshoe-lost@stopthe-presses@ridin-in-style@pinecovewoods@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing@bencookisagod@be-more-chill-evan-hansen@stellar-alpaca@saxoph-ella@smolcanadiankid@disney-princess-sized@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog@insane-tomato@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn@have-we-got-news-for-you@thatfancyclam@myidkwhatmynameisblog@legoflambwrites@not-a-scab@albertdasillvaprotectionsquad

@entschuldigung-bitches

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@tea-and-theater

@seasickdolphin

@auspicioustarantula

@newsies-of-ny

@mrs-higgins

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@spot-me50-papes

@papesdontsellthemselves

@deathcast-s

@the-poodles-of-pulitzer

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@humanracoon

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@nico-nat

[skysquid200]

Convin biker AU, I hear?? 👀👀👀

Okay so. 

I may have had a sudden burst of inspiration and wrote 3k worth of a Convin biker AU. I’ll for the most part just throw down my sad attempt at understanding biker culture and basically keep everything the same. This also means that you’ll have to deal with how messy I make my outlines and notes for fics (as well as the random tense changing). So, enjoy I guess! Also this is also heavily inspired by the song, Low Beam by Her’s. (which, by the way, is such a Connor song and I could probably make a separate post on that)

Connor and Richard “Nines” Stern live two different lives. Nines left and ran away when they were in their teens. But came back reluctantly. He was always pushing boundaries while Connor colored in the lines. But they still loved each other. Nines gets into space engineering of all things and Connor gets into English and aims to be a professor. Amanda also works as a professor at a nearby collage.

One day while in their late 20’s he leaves suddenly and without warning. He leaves a letter telling Connor that he’s sorry but he’ll see him again one day and that the sciences weren’t for him.

Its years later in their mid 30’s when Nines visits again looking like a street racer. He says he’s sorry and gets briefly caught up. Connor is working as a clerk despite his degree (and he’s disappointed that he only saw Amanda at his graduation). Nines says he’s between jobs working as a mechanic and leaves it at that. He confesses that he got into some trouble and he regrets not visiting sooner. He has to leave, but Connor tries to sus out what kind of trouble he’s in and suggests Amanda’s help. Nines looks hurt and disappointed. He promises that he’ll come back when he’s safe again. It occurs to Connor that he’s in so much danger he’s visiting now in case he’ll never see him again.

So he leaves and it eats Connor up inside that he’s not safe, older brother instinct kicking in. A few days after he leaves he convinces himself to go after him, damn laws and his work. He misses and loves his brother more than anything.

Connor tries to retrace his steps and uses clues to find him. Instead of leading him to an inkling of an idea to take to the police he gets caught in a biker gangs supposed territory.

Hank catches him and is about to warn him to stop looking where he doesn’t belong but he freezes and recognizes him. In the dark it’s hard to tell so he calls out “Nines?”

Connor is thrown and forgetting that this man could snap him in half he asks hurriedly where Nines is. They talk and Hank figures out that his brother is looking for him. Connor introduces himself obligating Hank to do the same. “Uh look maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this but we can’t find him either. You probably know more than we do.”/“We?”

Hank suddenly gets a call from Gavin asking where the hell he is and that Tina may have a lead. Hank glances at Connor and he shivers. Hank says he may have one too.

Hank offers him his helmet and tells him that if he want to find Nines, he might have to break a few… rules. Cementing himself into finding him Connor takes the helmet. Before he gets on he muses that Hank doesn’t have one. He laughs and tells him to hop on. Tentatively he places his hands on his sides but as the bike ride gets more extreme, telling Connor of his skill he panics and holds on tighter. [Sidebar: Wear a helmet when riding a bike!!!!!! Don’t do this!!!!!]

They meet up, catching Tina and Gavin off guard in an old bike shop. It’s unclear if the bike shop is used in the daylight. Either way once Gavin sees that this guy ain’t Nines he’s openly hostile, criticizing his look and appearance. After Hank buts in he demands that Connor tells them everything he knows about Nines’ whereabouts. Going so far to shove him against a wall. Connor tries not to let it get to him, but he’s clearly terrified. Tina just watches all this go down. Gavin punches him in the eye and before Connor gives in Hank pulls him off and starts yelling at him. Along the lines of he’s are only chance besides the lead you got, no he won’t tell us anything now that you got him scared. Gavin argues that he’s just getting in their way. Hank spares a glance over to Connor who crumpled onto the ground like wet paper. Sighing, Hank agrees.

At hearing this Connor looks up. There’s a part of him that’s revolted. Whatever cult or gang his brother got himself into here, it’s not enough to scare him off. Even if he feels like running. Connor speaks up and says that he’s not going anywhere without finding his brother first. Gavin rolls his eyes and walks away a bit. Hank looks tired, like Connor took up all his patience. “Listen kid.”/”I’m not a kid.”/“You should just go back to where ever suburb you spawned from. Once we get Nines back we’ll give him shit for it and he’ll visit you. And everything can go back to normal.”/“Get him back, what the hell you mean by that?” G: “Way to go Hank now you’ve fucked us all over.”

At last Tina finally buts in. “Y’know Nines is usually the diplomat here, but I guess that job falls on me now huh.” Tina then goes on to explain their ‘evidence’ which is the suggestion that a rival gang grabbed him. She then says that Nines told her he had to go see someone. G:”We knew that.” T:”You idiot he was going to see Connor. That means he’s the last one to see Nines before he rode off and or got kidnapped.”

To investigate to see whether or not the rival gang took Nines or not they gotta go consult a source of theirs. But since Connor won’t leave Hank sticks with him at the shop while Tina and Gavin leave. Hank keeps vague as possible about the shop, he simply gives him an ice pack for his eye and tries to apologize on Gavin’s behalf. Connor interrupts him saying that if Gavin was sorry he would apologize for himself. Hank agrees and retracts his statement. Connor then thinks about how this all happened in about an hour. It was the middle of the night really he should go find a place to sleep. He observes the garage they’re in. Hank kept avoiding questions about where they were near where they were standing Connor spots an unused bike. As Hank kept talking he walked over to the bike. Hank caught on and walked over. He explained that was Nines’ bike and asked Connor if he had any idea what his brother did. He shook his head. “He told me he was taking odd jobs working as a mechanic.”/“Well he wasn’t really lying to you.” At last Hank confesses that this is his chop shop and Nines and the others work here. Hank realizes and explains that Connor at first seemed like the type to turn them in to the cops on the off chance they would do something illegal but now that he’s fully committed they’ll have to work together. “There’s rooms upstairs I got a couch you can sleep on until Gavin and Tina get back.” Connor finds a cat. Later they get back and they only get vague info.

[Alright this is the section I moved from a story format to a more bulleted format just to get my ideas down. Disclaimer, i’m sorry I made Markus a villain. I tried my best not to make him too bad of a person, but whoops.]

Thought the Red Blood Boys took him after Tina found a threat in their style [I took the rival biker gang name from the song.]

Talk to their in on the RBB and he was vague and high. But said that Nines did make a lot of enemies. This causes Gavin to think about Connor and see if he knows anything about enemies of Nines.

Connor won’t saying anything but is willing to let up about his enemies. Doesn’t talk about Amanda.

Connor believes there are two different people who would be considered Nines’ enemies. Hank and Tina will try one and Connor and Gavin will try the more likely suspect. Hank the leader forces Con and Gavin to work together against Gavin’s will because he needs to learn how to get along.

Hank and Tina turn up nothing but the name Amanda (no idea that’s the mother). They decide to look into it after Gavin and Connor return from their mission.

The other person turns out to have had their life ruined by Nines. It’s Daniel. He confuses Connor for Nines. They get into a shootout. Connor is able to talk Daniel down. But he runs off shortly after. Gavin calls it a draw and jokingly praises Connor for his negotiator skills.

Gavin finds a pamphlet from some cult, ”could be worth looking into.” It’s called Jericho.

They go find some food and they kinda get along. He reveals what Nines told him. It’s nothing but a goodbye message and nothing more. At least they got different leads. Soon they get back, Connor’s dead tired and promises to share info he knows with the rest of the group once he wakes back up. The other’s reconvene.

In the morning Gavin decides not to say anything about Amanda. They just go out again looking for clues about Jericho. Tina and Hank run into Josh while looking into the Professor Amanda thing. They find out that Josh has relations in Jericho so Amanda is dropped.

Josh is threatened and reluctantly tells him a location. Which Tina relays back to Gavin. The place is a set up and North ambushes Con and Gavin when they check it out. They’re able to make it out and Gavin shows that he cares about Connor. They drive back and Gavin stops for a smoke. Connor reveals who Amanda is. Bar scene and Connor gets hit on, Gavin acts a bit jealous.

While Connor sleeps he and Tina go look into Amanda. They find a stuck up professor who threatens to call the police. Gavin makes the connection of Nines’ stuck up personality and Connor’s proprietary-ness. They leave with nothing.

Meanwhile Nines is stuck in the basement of some dude’s mansion. He’s treated well and has breakfast with a fellow named Markus. He knows him. He fixed a car for him, but later when it was needed for repairs again he was given an offer to get it scrapped so he did. And then blanked Markus. Nines won’t say anything but Markus keeps monologuing how he’ll get his father’s car back hell or high water. At last he speaks saying if he wants it back he better have someone leave a ransom note for his crew. Markus agrees and muses that the fun was over once your crew threatened his friends.

Their leads die off and Jericho is unfound. Luckily a few days after the Amanda thing they get a note. It tells them to return the car or their friend will die in 14 days, no address is given. Connor is shaken up. Tina tries to find receipts. Hank goes to see if they scrapped it from sources. Gavin is told to do the same if Tina can’t find the proper receipts. Gavin encourages Connor.  

Tina calls them to say that it’s a good thing Nines was so prissy about record keeping. Except for the scrap jobs which were often illegal. There’s a note for a vintage red car and a successful exchange. Then there’s another one but no return receipt, just the order which implies the car got dropped off so it had to go somewhere. Tina confirms that the handwriting is the same.

She goes and tells Hank. Gavin banks on him scrapping it so he says to Connor that he knows just the place to get a car like that.

They meet up with Hank at this street racing gig. Sure enough after a bit of asking around they find the car that’s about to be won in a race. Simon is there and the race it’s about to begin. They watch it go down and the pure skill this Simon fellow is showing is startling. He wins and per race rules anyone can challenge him. All four muss about who will go. Gavin wants to, but Connor interjects. Silent Gavin lets him. Connor wants to say if he fucks up Gavin can just race him, but once he steps up to his still warm bike Simon does announce that if he can’t be beat twice then it’s a guarantee Simon wins.

They race. Simon gets the initial lead, but slowly Connor gains ground and makes clever use of shortcuts. At the end it seems like Simon will win but Connor thinks about Nines nearly dying and getting Gavin’s one of now three friends back is very important. He’ll win for both of them. To prove them all wrong. With another trick/shortcut he wins. [Cliche maybe, but it’s fun to read in write in a fic.] They give him his congrats and luckily no one challenges him to a race so the owner of the car give a 1 2 3 and sold. Simon’s pissed and rides off frustrated. Gavin pulls them aside and watches him ride off. He muses that he may have to memorize his face incase he comes back to kill them. Sincerely gives him a good job. Connor realizes that a real Gavin smile is one of the best things he’s ever seen. And that he may have a crush on this rat of a man. Connor also basks in the warmth of Gavin trusting him. Tina interrupts their pow-wow asking how are they gonna get the car back to the shop.

Tina looks further into the dude with the fancy car online while Hank, Connor, and Gavin talk. Hank wonders how they’re gonna get the small details down, only Nines would know. Gavin muses that the rich fuck probably doesn’t know how many miles are on the thing since these types of cars to old people are more cosmetic than anything. Tina finds out that the car belonged to a Carl Manfred and once he died it either went to one of his sons. His adopted son, Markus or Leo. No other info is given so they gotta go find out who was favored. They turn in for the night. 

Hank and Tina are the main mechanics and they gotta keep the shop alive somehow so Hank tells Gavin to look into Leo (Gavin also hates ’not doing anything’). Luckily they get a picture to go off of. They hit up the main spots for info, pretty quickly they discover Leo is a drug dealer now. They interrogate him (Gavin was making fun of the little cop dynamic they had going on) and easily find out that Markus got all the shit including the mansion. Leo gladly gives the address and tells them to make sure to send Markus a message from Leo, they ignore him.

As they stop for a now routine smoke break and drink at bar Gavin admits how much he hates rich folk. Connor can tell he’s speaking from experience. Gavin shares that he has a rich brother who left him and his mom once he got rich. Together they learned how to build with machines. Connor shares a story about the time Nines ran away from home. 

—Why didn’t Markus add any address? He doesn’t care about the life, only the car. So he’d rather make them sweat over how to get the car to him because that’s more entertaining over simply leading them there. — [I had to explain it somehow.]

They ride in, Tina in the car. They arrive to the gated lot and pull up to see Markus, and son of a bitch, Simon, North, and Josh are here too. Nines is not there. Hank does negotiations asking where Nines is and he’ll hand over the car soon as he’s released. Markus doesn’t respond he’s just staring at Connor. He smiles and turns back to an increasingly agitated Hank. ”If you want Nines to return back to his brother go to the location written on the orange post-it note in the glove box.” silence. Markus hums. ”I knew that idiot scrapped it. I’m an agreeable man. My people have let Nines go, he’s out of our hands. It’s not our fault you don’t know where he is now. I have made my part of the deal, time to do yours.” Gavin interjects and yells at him for breaking the deal. Markus pulls out a gun and leaves it at his side, North follows and Simon the same. Josh goes back into the house. Hank, Tina, and Gavin pull out their guns, Connor still doesn’t have one. Connor knows they’re out matched, North he knows from experience can kill all of them easy. Remembering how Gavin praised his negotiator skills he steps ahead. 

All three protest, but Gavin, even as Connor speaks keeps trying to get him out of there. Connor reasons with Markus on how they were able to find this place without an address, they can find Nines just as easily. The reality is that Markus is in trouble here. Connor also knows that losing one of his friends would be the worst possible solution to this, just give them some sort of address and we’ll leave the car. Markus puts away his gun. Hank and Tina lower their’s and scowl Gavin into doing the same. Markus gives them an address and tells them to get the hell out and never seem them again. Tina hops on Hank’s bike and they ride off to the destination.

It’s an old abandoned warehouse. There is one active street lamp. Gavin and Connor find Nines in a weird cage like room. Nines’ eyes widen once he sees Connor. Once he’s engaged he asks if he’s hallucinating before hugging the crap out of Connor. He asks with a ragged voice “how did you…?” But he turns to Gavin before he waits for an answer and hugs him. G:”Your cat misses you.” N: ”Thank you for taking care of him.” They get outside and they all hug it out and cry a little and joke. Nines recognizes that Connor has his bike and then pulls him aside.

He asks how he got into this mess. Connor tells him it’s a long story and he’ll tell him more once Nines is able to speak properly. Nines agrees and tells him that he should go home. He hugs him. Nines lets on and jokes about how the two behave around each other. Before leaving he walks over to Gavin.

N: ”Take him home. Treat him well.” He winks and Gavin blushes blushes. Gavin weakly kicks at his shins and tells him that he shouldn’t be driving. Nines says he’s getting soft and he’ll stop by a gas station and freshen up. Gavin throws a few colorful swears at him. Connor walks up and tells him to not mind his brother. “Oh don’t worry I’ve been dealing with his smartass for years now.”

Connor rides behind him. But unlike before with Hank he wasn’t scared, instead he leans into Gavin’s back and is tall enough to put his head on top of Gavin’s. [Once again, ride with a helmet!!!!] Connor loops his arms around Gavin’s stomach. (Little does he know Gavin is using all his concentration on trying not to crash his fucking bike.) Gavin walks him to his door and it’s clear that Gavin is stalling a little bit. Gavin asks what he’s gonna do now. Connor admits that he doesn’t really know what to do career wise. But he does know what to do about his love life. Without much hesitation he kisses Gavin against his door. He responds greedily. Before things get too out of hand Connor breaks it off and laments that he’s so so tired. Gavin smirks and teases him about the fact he wasn’t a night owl at all. “Yeah? When did you sleep?”/“In shifts dumbass.” Connor ends the conversation by wishing him goodnight. Connor gets ready to sleep in his own bed. He makes it clear to himself to make some changes starting tomorrow. Namely visiting his brother, distancing himself from Amanda and go on a proper date with Gavin. He’d like to see the rough and dirty biker wearing a suit in a restaurant. End with sweet anecdote.

That’s all I got. It’s sorta, in a way, dedicated to @barbaesparza. 

And here’s the song which helped inspire this monster. I also named this AU ‘Low Beam’ because of it. 

[foodloverforever0]

I’ll actually shoot you/ Jungkook part 2

Gender: Bts police agents au!

part 1 -part 2 - part 3

Description: You have been working in the BTS police station for three years now. You were in a team named alpha with six boys, but everything will change when the new guys come, who is the biggest brat you ever meet.

“He's a little demon on an ice stick with a Godzilla head!” - (Y/n)

masterlist

“You think he will tell him today?” “Of course he won't even if it was the end of the world he wouldn't tell him.” “O now, you two shouldn't be so mean, our Jimine is really trying.” “Yes, he's trying for two years.” “Could you three stop talking about me like I'm not here.” Jimin said as he crossed his arms, flopping onto his chair, with a huffish on his face. Hoseok gave him a milkshake trying to lighten up the mood of the younger. “Aww come on now Jiminie, there is always another time.” Jimin pouted, disappointed in himself. Hoseok turned to the other two. “So how about we-” Hoseok stopped talking while looking at you and Taehyung. You were dancing in the victory while Taehyung was bagging his head against the table. Jimin looked beside Hoseok as he signed. “Let me guess, you two made a bet again on me.” Hoseok laughed silently, as Taehyung cried and said. “ Yes! And every time I actually think you're going to confess I lose, thanks to you I'm broke for the next three months.” Jimin smacked Taehyungs head as you laughed like a maniac, with money in your hands. “It's always a pleasure to bet with you Taehyung. Count me in the next time.” You winked at him and Taehyung let out a cry as Jimin pouted even more at the realization you were betting on him again. Hoseok looked around, not wanting to deal with you three right now. His eyes landed on Jungkook, he just came into the cafeteria. Looking for a place to sit. It has been already a month since he came and he was on good terms with everybody from the team. Even you. After the drama with you pulling on his ear and Namoon taking you away, the next day he sated next to you, giving everybody coffee, but you were the only one that got sweets too. You remember him saying something like ‘Jin-hyung told me you sometimes tend to skip meals, so this is for the energy for this case.’ You were actually really touched, you didn't expect him to actually apologize. You were on good teams now, sure. But that doesn't mean you two still don't bitcher over stupid stuff. “Hey, Jungkook! Come here!” Jungkook turned towards the voice. He smiled his bunny smile as he saw all of you around the table. He sat down next to Jimon right opposite of you. he said to everyone a hello while opening his lunch box. Jungkook looked at Taehyung who still had his head against the table. “What did they bet about this time?” “They bet about Jimin’s confession.” Jimin formed about the fact that the topic was back as Taehyung was still crying. You were just fine, innocent and happily eating your sandwich. “I guess noona won again. Such a shame, I was ready to celebrate in her defeat.” Jimin laughed as he high fived Jungkook under the table where you can't see. You opened up your sandwich taking the cheese in your hand. “Better watch out you little brat, you wouldn't like me to crush all the disrespect that you have in your body.” Jungkook leaned his chin on his hands on the table looking directly at you. “Awww noona, that would for sure make me a better kid. But don't you think you should find a better weight to crush me, I mean you couldn't even kill a bug with your weight.” In the next moment, the cheese that was once in your hand was now on Jungkook’s forehead, the end of it was right on the tip of Jungkook’s nose. Hoseok and Taehyung started dying from the laughter and Jimin put a hand onto his mouth, hiding his giggles. “Watch your mouth brat, before I decide to wash it off with a toothbrush and shampoo of coconut.” You moved your outstretched hand back to your sandwich taking another bite. Jungkook stayed in the same position, with cheese still on his forehead. “What are you kids doing?” Taehyung jumped at the voice, pulling the body to sit next to him. “Hyung! (Y/n)-noona is being mean again!” Yoongi patted Taehyugn’s head, giving him a tissue to clean his face. “Hyung!” Taehyung pouted making a kissing face with puppy eyes. Yoongi rolled his eyes, giving Taehung a peck on the lips. Taehyung made a satisfied noise, sitting down on his place again. Yoongi sat down next to him followed by Namjoon and Seokjin. Seokjin took a sit on the end of the table next to Jungkook and you. he didn't even try to ask what happened and Namjoon looked at the both of you weirdly. “What did you two fight about again?” Namjoon took a seat next to Jimin, putting one hand behind his chair, making Jimin blush. “Don't worry Namjoon, I was just learning Jungkook how to behave.” The cheese finally fell form Jungkook’s face, falling on the table. Jungkook looked a the ceiling, shaking his head slightly. “To think she is supposed to be older than me but acts like a three-year-old.” “Hey!” You say loudly taking the salad form your sandwich, pointing it at Jungkook again. He ignored you, taking a bite of his own lunch. It made you slightly angry, but at least he didn't say anything back this time. Namjoon smiled. “So what did you all talk about before we came here, it looked like (Y/n)-noona won a battle how she danced.” Taehyung smiled, rolling his eyes. “O, you know just how Jimin likes y- “I LIKE SOMEONE FROM THE TEAM GAMMA!” Jimin jumped on his feet, blushing madly while trying to calm down his breathing. You all moved a little further from him, surprised by the sudden yell. Namjoon blinked a few times while you all facepalmed, not believing your eyes and ears. To be true, you all tired to help Jimin confess at least once, but the leader was so obvious he wouldn't get it even if someone scream he wanted to fuck him. You remember when you two were working on the case together. You were at the victim's house, taking evidence from them. It was a young girl around her twenties and she reported that her ex got into her house and broke everything. You just looked amazed as the girl tried to flirt with Namjoon, but the guy just wouldn't get it. “You look so hot, officer.” “Do I? Maybe the temperature in your apartment is too high.” or “You could come over to protect me from my ex.” “Ah, don't worry that's why we're going to arrest him, so you won't have to see him again.” You had no words. You felt bad for Jimin honestly. “You like someone? From the Team Gamma?” Namjoon asked with a raised eyebrow. “Y-yes act-tually, for so-some time now.” Jimin said still blushing, trying not to make a big deal out of it as he drank his milkshake. Namjoon smiled. “That's great Jimine! Hope they like you too!” Namjoon stood up, looking at his watch. “I should head back, I still have a lot of paperwork to do. See ya later guys!” Namjoon waved one last time as he turned around and got our fo cafeteria. Jimin waited a few more seconds before he smacked Taehyung under the table with his leg, making Taehyung jump a little saying an ‘ow’. “You little brat! Why would you say something like that!” Taehyung rubbed his leg under the table. “I wanted to see his reaction hyung! But like always I cannot read Namjoon-hyung! It's irritating honestly.” Taehyung tiled his head to the right, closing his eyes. Taehyung was a ‘lie detector’ how you called him. He got a name like that because of his ‘people reading knowledge’. Usually, you would use a robot for that, but some people know how to make it seem like they don't lie. Like on one of your first official cases with Team Alpha where Tahyung was in the watching room with you and Namjoon as Hoseok was questioning a suspect. You were all quiet watching Hoseok question when suddenly Taehyung got out of the room and walked into the questioning room. He sat next to Hoseok asking the person some questions, on the lie detector it was saying ‘truth’ while everything that the suspect said was a lie, it didn't match the crime scene. When Taehyung pressured them a little, they lost their cool and that was when the lie detector finally caught something, so your team doesn't use machines anymore, but Taehyung. You guessed that's how he and Yoongi got together. Yoongi doesn't show his emotions or better said doesn't know how to. So with Taehyung, it was easier to say ‘I love you’. They never said they got together, one day they just seemed closer, till Yoongi kissed Taehyung for the first time in front of you guys. But you all kinda already knew. The only problem there was, was that Taehyung could never read Namjoon and it always got on his nerves. Hoseok stood up. “I'm going to, I still have a lot of unfinished jobs to do.” You took the last sip of your drink and got up following Hoseok. “I'm going to. I can't wait till I get my hands on the ruru fudu things.” You moved your hands a little higher, moving your fingers like you were playing piano, but in a creepy way. “Don't break your bones while moving so fast noona! Your to old to move like that!” JUngkook dodged a rock that you trowed at him, giving him a middle finger as you walked backwards towards the doors of the cafeteria mouthing a ‘brat’ while almost bumping into people o the way.

You walked in silence towards Namjoon’s office. You were just about to open up the body to see the applied damage as you got a called form Namjoon needing you in the office. You just prayed the god that he didn't break another shelf like last six ones. You opened the doors not bothering to knock. “Namjoon you better have not broken something again.” You froze in your place, with one leg in the air as you saw Jungkook standing in front of Namjoon’s desk. “What’s happening here?” You walked next to Jungkook. He had an irritated expression on his face as he looked down on you before he turned to Namjoon again. You thought it was just him playing around so you didn't think much about it. “We need to find more tracks for the case and since you did this a hundred times before I hoped you could go with Junkook this time.” You looked at Namjoon than at Jungook. “Can’t one of the boys do it, I need to make a lot of tests and examine a lot of bodies Namjoon.” You really didn't have anything against going with Jungkook, you just had a tight schedule that was going to get messed up and besides, you believe Jungkook himself would enjoy more if one of the boys would go. “All of the boys are busy, and I know Jungkook is capable of doing this on his own, but it would be for the best if two would go.” You sighed. “Ok, fine- “I don't need her to go.” It was silent for a moment before Jungkook started talking again. “I can do it on my own. I did this stuff in my old station all the time, besides.......I don't need her to hold me down.” You were in shock. You thought everything was ok between you two. Apparently not. Namjoon answered. “Sorry to disappoint you Jungkook, I believe you could do this on your own, but I need you to at least try to work together.” Jungkook poked his cheek with his tongue. “I really think it would be better if I go on my own. For my and mostly her safety besides she probably doesn't even know how to shoot.” You didn't know how to answer. Does he hate you that much? Were you that irritating? “I mean, she bumps into people 24/7 and she acts like a little child so-. Jungkook was interrupted when you suddenly fired a gun. Namjoon jumped a little at the sound looking at where you shot. You put down the gun throwing it at Namjoon’s desk. “Fine, I'll work with Jungkook, tell the victim we will be at their house at eight a.m. Not sooner or later.” You turned around walking out of the doors. Jungkook’s eyes followed you. He finally realized how he sounded and he felt like a total dick. The worst thing is he didn't mean anything he said, he just didn't know how to say it differently which sound stupid when he says it in his head.

The next day you were waiting for Jungkook to show his ass in the park, not too far from the victim's house. It was a little chilly in the mornings, but you didn't mind it much. “Hello, noona.” You turned your head to the right. and there was Jungkook. He was dressed casually, with jeans white t-shirt and timberlands on his feet. “Hello, Jungkook.” You smiled a little. You calmed down from yesterday and if Jungkook really doesn't want to be friends, you can't do anything about it. You were just going to behave with him like everybody else. “Come on, we have a long day before us.” You said as you turned around walking into the opposite direction of the location you two were supposed to go. “Wasn’t the house this way?” Jungkook asked confused. “O I know.” “You know?” “Yes.” “Then why are we going in the opposite direction?” Jungkook looked like a lost puppy and you tried so hard not to laugh. “First I wanna go somewhere.” Jungkook was ready to fight but was stopped when you got inside of a cafe. The name said ‘IDC about your opinion!’ and in smaller words was a hole text below it. Jungkook followed behind you, sitting opposite of you. You chose a place beside the window so you two got a pretty view. A lady took your orders as you both told her what you want. For Jungkook it was a little awkward, he wanted to apologize but it was so much harder than it seemed. “So did you read about the victim.” You asked looking at your fresh tee as you happily drink from it. Jungkook looked at you weirdly. “Why did you take me here?” Jungkook ignores your question as he moved his eyes on his of tee. “It's your first time working with me.” Jungkook looked at you again. You were looking out of the window. “When it’s someones the first time I always take them to a cafe. I even made Yoongi come with me.” You smiled a little thinking of hard it was to get the older to come with you. “How did you get Yoongi-hyung to go with you?” Jungkook asked surprised. Usually, when any of you ask him to join he would refuse, the only one that can get him to join is Taehyun, but there is no surprise in that. “A small birdy told me his favorite place.” Jungkook could imagine Taehyung telling you about where to take Yoongi as you nod your head too many times to count. It was time for you two to go Jungkook was ready to pay but you were already on it. “Why did you pay for me?” You just laughed. “I was taking you out silly.” Jungkook blushed but hid it with his coat. “Well! Next time I’ll take you out noona!” Jungkook marched forward going a little in front of you. You followed close behind him before you hurried to walk next to him. You smiled as you looked forward. Jungkook was not good with words or expressing himself. 

But you were really excited for the next time you two are going to be on a case together.

AMEN! it’s done! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

check out my other stories on the master list and stories that are yet to come!