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hepaidattention · 3 years ago

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denial

part 4

where Allison never died in s3 and Lydia and Stiles are going strong in the flirting game but still stubborn, so Allison decides to set them up (with Scott’s help of course).

find part three, two, and one here

"Lydia," Allison was standing there, arms folded over her chest, and her prominent jawline tight and pointed. "I know."

Lydia was standing outside Stiles' locker, a compact mirror in one hand and cherry red lipstick applying to her lips in the other. Lydia cut her eyes up at her tall friend, her mirror snapping closed in her palm. Allison was towering over her today. Apparently she decided to wear heels on the day that Lydia decided to wear the shortest heels she owns. She always regretted wearing the 4 inch heels, she always felt small and insignificant. Especially beside 5'10" Stiles Stilinski.

Lydia tilted her head, freshly coated lips pursed. "And what might that be?"

"About you and Stiles."

Lydia suddenly felt very exposed. It didn't help that she was currently applying lipstick outside his locker, waiting for him to rush to his locker last minute before running off to class. Stiles was always late for school, yet she always waited for him anyway.

Now, her friend was scrutinizing her with a piercing, knowing stare and Lydia felt like she came to school in her underwear.

She gulped, trying to keep her placid exterior in tact. "And what by that oddly accusing tone do you mean?"

"Lydia, stop with the games. I'm not an idiot. I know, and you don't have to be ashamed. I mean c'mon Lydia, it's me."

Lydia did know what she meant. That fact that she knew made Lydia feel very vulnerable and Lydia Martin hated feeling vulnerable. She raised her chin high, trying to feel bigger somehow, feel significant and powerful. However, she knew Allison saw straight through her façade. Allison had seen Lydia had her most vulnerable, and loved her more for it.

She looked at her phone to see the time. Class didn't start for about ten minutes, which gave Lydia and Allison at least nine uninterrupted.

"Okay." Lydia finally admitted. Her heart felt a little lighter as she said it. "I don't know how you found out but... I suppose I can't keep anything from Allison Argent."

Allison smirked, her stance softening into a lean towards the lockers. She looked causal and welcoming rather than tall and threatening now. "Well, yeah, duh." Allison gave her that giant, beautiful, entire-room-staring-at-her-beaming-face smile and Lydia suddenly wondered why she ever tried to keep it from her best friend.

"I ... I mean, I guess it just felt strange ever saying anything, because then it made it real... I just, it was one time, okay? And we never talk about it - but... I can't deny I think about it." She bit down on her bottom lip. Her gaze drifted off into another world. Probably a world of memories. "A lot."

Allison had now been defeated, because Allison had no idea what Lydia was talking about. Allison just knew that Lydia was just totally into him and thought if she pressured her she'd finally admit it - but what Lydia seemed to be implying was far more juicy than she thought. So, she chose not to speak. She let Lydia talk until she gave enough information away.

"Honestly, the other day, I think we might have almost ... I don't know. I might be overthinking it but it felt like we might ... you know, do it again and thank god we didn't. We were just caught up in a moment and if we had I would've had to break Stiles' poor little heart and I just don't want to hurt him like that, not right now,"

Allison was at a loss. At first she thought it was a date Lydia was implying. But now she was thinking it was more. A lot more.

"The first time was a fluke, okay? Like, an impulsive decision I sincerely did for the good of Stiles and I feel bad now, because I know I probably led him on and that was the least of my intentions. I don't want to hurt him. But it meant nothing to me. It was just a kiss."

Allison's heart dropped into her stomach, her jaw slacked, her eyes wide. "Lydia Martin, are you telling me you kissed Stiles Stilinski and you're just telling me now?"

Lydia paled. Her cheeks were a fire red, and the rest of her lost all color. It was like all the blood pooled into her cheeks. "You didn't know?"

Allison laughed. She couldn't help it. This was the best thing she'd heard all week. "No I didn't know you kissed Stiles! Oh my god, Lydia! You kissed him?"

"Shhh!" Lydia hushed her, noticing the sideways looks from nosey classmates as they passed them in the hall. "Could you keep it down, please? I'd rather not become the laughing stock of Beacon Hills High today."

"Laughing stock?" Allison's head bowed to the right, her brows meeting together in the middle. "Lydia, Stiles is hot, okay? And he's on the lacrosse team, and plays pretty frequently now. He's not exactly the nerd he used to be sophomore year. I hear girls in my class talk about how much they want to jump his bones on a regular basis. In fact, many girls ask me for his number on a regular basis."

Lydia's eyes squinted. Allison had to bite her lip back to keep from smiling, the obvious jealousy painted over her face a hilarious sight to see. "Seriously?" She was picking at her nails now, eyes staring out at nothing as she thought. She looked up again, "Stiles? Not Scott, Stiles?"

"Yeah." She nodded slowly. "I mean, Scott's a hot and wanted package all on his own, but girls don't ask me about him. He's my ex."

Lydia shook her head then, finger pointing up like she was about to make a argumentative point. "See, I don't believe you, because I never get questions about Stiles."

"Uh yeah, duh, of course you don't Lyds," Allison was laughing. Lydia didn't seem to get the joke. She sighed and gestured at Stiles' locker, "This? Waiting for him every morning? Eating with him every lunch period? Sitting beside each other in every class you have together? Other girls hardly even have room to flirt with him, let alone have the courage." Lydia blinked, clueless. Allison sighed, "Lydia you're all the girls competition. Of course they're not going to ask you for his number."

Lydia stood up straight and tall, and the look on her face couldn't be described as anything other than defiance. "Don't be ridiculous, Allison. Stiles and I are just friends."

"Yeah?" Allison quirked up one brow, arms folded, mouth smugly smiling. "Do just friends kiss and then not be able to stop thinking about it?"

Lydia's back fell into Stiles locker in a huff. "God, this is why I never told you about that."

A chuckle escaped her throat at Lydia's reaction. "I just want to know how the hell that happened for the benefit of Stiles and not you."

"He was having a panic attack. I was trying to calm him down."

"Oh okay, right," she was nodding in the most mocking of ways and Lydia clearly wanted to slap her over it. "Right. I forgot that doing something that would speed up someone's heart rate always stops a panic attack."

Lydia's eyes were shut tight in shame. "Will you ever drop this?"

"Nope. Never."

Lydia whined. Her eyes were still closed in embarrassment when Stiles came (for once) calmly strolling up to the locker with backpack slung over his shoulder and hair a purposefully wild mess. He gave Allison a warm smile, which she returned, but they stayed quiet as both waited to see if she would notice Stiles' presence.

Lydia finally said, "Just please Allison, I beg of you, don't say anything to St-" Lydia opened her eyes in the nick of time, seeing a wide eyed Stiles standing in front of his locker (which meant he was standing in front of her). "Stiles." She breathed.

Stiles and Allison smiled, gaze meeting for a split second. "Lydia."

"You're here."

"Uhh, yeah?" Stiles stretched an arm behind his neck, his bicep noticeably flexing as his eyes narrowed slightly. "This is my locker, last time I checked."

Lydia straightened and moved over so he could open it. Standing beside her now, the height difference was amusing to Allison. Lydia's nose reached mid shoulder for him. "I just meant - you're just early."

Stiles checked his watch and shrugged, "Well, some might consider five minutes before class to be on time, but I guess that's early for me." He was fidgeting with the lock when he tried to casually ask, "So, who can Allison not tell something to?"

Lydia was dying on the inside and Allison was loving every minute of it. Lydia said "st" before she saw him, so whatever her lie might be, Stiles would likely not believe it.

"My mom." Lydia lied, and if Allison and Stiles hadn't known it was a lie, they might actually have believed her.

"Okay," Stiles looked between the two suspiciously stiff girls. He said, "Allison, what were you planning on telling Lydia's mom? Spilling some deep dark secret I should know about?"

Lydia was shooting daggers at Allison with just her eyes. Allison's cheeks were dimpled in deep as she said, "Something like that."

Stiles was obviously not buying it, but he tugged on his backpack and said, "Well I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a test to cram for."

Lydia's brow crunched up into a wrinkled v. "Stiles, that test is first period - which starts in four minutes."

"That's two more than I had last exam," Stiles just winks at her as he shuts his locker door closed. "Seriously though, everything's okay right?" He said so happily, so lovingly. His wide hand was on her petite shoulder. Lydia was mute now. She wordlessly nodded. "Okay. See you in class." His hand slid from her shoulder to her hand. He gave it a light squeeze and then he strolled away down the hallway.

Something they both noticed when he was walking away was the wave one blonde gave him. Ginny Green. Stiles gave her a friendly and uncaring wave back, but the blond stopped behind him and just watched his ass sway down the hall. Lydia looked like she might explode. The girl turned back and she saw Lydia's death glare shooting straight for her. Ginny Green quickly avoided all eye contact and rushed down the hall like a mouse being seen sneaking cheese by a cat.

Allison couldn't hold it in anymore. She burst into laughter and Lydia playfully slapped her friends arm in protest. "I'm going to kill you."

"Not if that deathly case of jealousy doesn't kill you first." Allison quipped back. "I can't believe you just found out that Stiles was a chick magnet."

Lydia huffed and flipped her hair back. She was doing that thing where she was trying to seem composed and unbothered, but was really melting away on the inside. "I am not jealous for Stiles Stilinski. Not now, nor will I ever be. If girls think he’s cute at this school then good for him, maybe Stiles can finally find himself a girlfriend. Now, please, for the sake of my sanity Allison, let it go."

"Lydia, you just told me you kissed Stiles, you did, and then I watched as you visibly just told that poor girl with your eyes she was going to be your breakfast if she ever looked at him ever again. Not to mention the moment of hand holding that you two so casually had. There's no way in hell I am ever letting this go now."

Lydia just groaned and walked away from Allison with one swift hair flip to the face. Thankfully Lydia was too short today for it to actually hit her in the face.

"See you at lunch," she called after her. Lydia completely ignored her, half expecting her to flip her off as she went.

Allison now had every reason in her book to go through with her plan. She had to text Scott; operation Stydia was now in motion.

read part five here

#styida fic #Stydia #teen wolf fanfiction #denial stydia series #part 4 #this one was a favorite of mine because it was just fun #I love writing lydia and allison #and then getting to add the stydia was fun too #lydia in denial is adorable and i love it #also jealous lydia is adorable and i love it #my stydia fics #my stories #also i just couldn't wait so i posted this one today too #double post for me oops

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years ago

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just keep swimming

prompt: drowning

whumpee: gereon rath

fandom: babylon berlin

hi! here is another babylon berlin fic and another drowning fic...listen water whump is simply top tier ok? anyway this is set after 2x08 and most likely after s3 but i am not super picky with timing so yeah. but this will make a lot more sense if you’ve seen 2x08 lol. i had so much fun writing this fic, i hope you like it!

They weren’t supposed to have been there, but the gate had been unlocked and Charlotte had given it a little push and stepped right on through and then looked back, beckoning the other three members of their party forwards, and Henning and Czerwinski had looked at each other and shrugged and Gereon had sighed and then they’d all tried to step through the gate at the same time. Once they’d sorted that out and all gotten inside the deserted courtyard (and once Charlotte had stopped laughing at them), they had decided to split up, which was where everything had gone wrong, Gereon reflects. They should have stayed together…

But they hadn’t, and now he’s here, inside one of the derelict buildings on the edge of the courtyard, struggling against the grip of a man much larger than him, who is dragging him steadily further back into the dark room. He’s kicking and shouting but it isn’t doing any good, and all he can do is pray that his comrades can hear him.

The man suddenly stops dragging him, and Gereon gets a hard kick in, his heel connecting with the man’s leg. The man barely even moves in response, and Gereon wonders if he’s about to be shot, which seems like the most likely outcome here. His hands start to shake. He clenches them into fists and tries to breathe and in the span of less than a second he’s being pushed forwards and his deep breath of air gets replaced by a deep breath of water.

He immediately starts struggling against the hands holding him under, and he’s coughing at the same time, involuntarily, as his lungs try to expel the water he’s just inhaled. His nose burns and there’s a tightness in his chest and he thinks about his car going into the water and Charlotte and how long he’d been able to stay underwater then, and he tells himself that he will be fine, that he will be able to hold on until Charlotte and Henning and Czerwinski come for him, but he’s not even sure that they’d heard him and he’s still fighting against the man holding him beneath the water but he can feel the energy seeping out of his body and decides to stop fighting and conserve what little strength he has left.

He doesn’t know how long the man holds him under. He begins to panic, and his lungs begin to burn from a lack of oxygen and he sees Charlotte, shaking her head, sees her succumbing to her body’s need to breathe, sees her jerky movements as she inhales water, and he struggles once more against his captor for all he’s worth before he, too, begins to breathe.

The first breath is awful. The water burns and he feels like he’s choking and the panic increases tenfold and he breathes again, and again, and - he is dying and he thinks perhaps it’s better to speed it up, and he takes another breath and then another and then another and then everything goes black.

Charlotte, Henning, and Czerwinski are carefully making their way into the building from which they’d heard Gereon shout. It’s taken them some time to get there, having all been off at different areas of the courtyard, and then having had to be very cautious about approaching what is probably a dangerous situation. It has been a few minutes since Gereon’s initial shout, and they haven’t heard anything since, which is worrying and comforting in equal parts. No indication that Gereon is okay, but no gunshots or noises of fighting either.

The three of them step around a corner, Henning and Czerwinski slightly in front of Charlotte, guns drawn and sweeping the room. There’s someone in front of them, back turned, too large to be Gereon. The man is standing in front of some sort of large basin and he’s holding Gereon down inside of it and there are extremely faint, watery noises, and then Gereon’s body goes limp and slips from the man’s grasp and Charlotte shouts his name and Henning and Czerwinski fire at the same time and then there are two bodies on the floor.

They all rush forwards. Charlotte drops to her knees next to Gereon, who is lying in a heap on the floor, unmoving. Behind her, Henning and Czerwinski proclaim simultaneously that the man who has done this is dead.

The two of them quickly join Charlotte, then, and together they carefully roll Gereon onto his back. His entire body is wet, though only his top half had been underwater, and that coupled with the scuff marks on his shoes and the wrinkles and tears in his clothing tells Charlotte that he’d fought hard against his drowning.

For a second all three of them just look at him, and then Henning reaches forwards and holds a hand over Gereon’s mouth and presses his fingers to his neck and shakes his head, and Charlotte looks at Czerwinski who looks at Henning who looks back at Charlotte and then it is like they all remember what they are supposed to do at once, and they spring into action.

Charlotte doesn’t remember much of it, the moments after she’d come back to life. Mostly she remembers coughing and a pain in her chest and him. But she remembers very well what Gereon had told her at some point in the days afterwards. He had told her about pressing on her chest to make her heart beat and about breathing air into her mouth to get her lungs working and there had been this tension in his voice which had only caused her to pay more attention to what he was saying. He’d demonstrated it for her (and for Henning, Czerwinski, and Gräf) later, showing them where to press on the chest and how to pinch the nose shut when administering a breath and they’d all shared a look that spoke to their collective desire to never have to do this.

And now here they are, she and Henning and Czerwinski, doing it. Czerwinski is providing the compressions and Charlotte is providing the breaths and Henning is counting - none of them are sure exactly what number he’s supposed to count to, but they have settled on twenty. Twenty seconds, twenty compressions, a breath. Twenty seconds, twenty compressions, a breath. Twenty seconds, twenty compressions...it isn’t working.

But it has to. Charlotte remembers Gereon telling her, as he’d explained this procedure, you must keep going. She remembers his face as he’d said it, and she knows she’d been underwater for a very long time, knows it must have taken him a long time to revive her - certainly longer than this. But he’d kept going, and she’s here now, alive, and he is not going to die.

“Press harder,” she tells Czerwinski, in between breaths. “He would rather wake up with his chest hurting than not wake up at all.”

He does as she says, pressing so hard that Charlotte wonders if his ribs will break, and they keep going, pressing, breathing, counting. This will work, Charlotte thinks, it has to work.

Finally, it does.

He wakes up coughing violently, water spraying out of his mouth, and he gasps for breath and someone moves him so he’s on his side and he vomits once, twice, and it feels like an ocean has been poured into his lungs, like the water will never leave his body completely, and for a very long time he lies there, coughing and gagging and breathing and everything hurts, his lungs are aching and his chest feels like it’s been hit with a hammer and he’s trembling but not like he’s used to, like he’s just - cold.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, but slowly, he becomes aware of things besides his own body. Warm hands are touching him, very slowly guiding him upwards into a sitting position, and someone is pulling his freezing, soaking coat away from him and then putting it back on - or, no, it’s a different coat, because his coat had been cold and this one is warm. It feels nice, he thinks, and unconsciously burrows himself deeper into its fabric.

“Open your eyes, Gereon,” someone says, and his mind is fuzzy but he recognizes the voice. He opens his eyes, and everything is blurry and out of focus but he sees Henning - the owner of the voice - and there’s Czerwinski next to him, and the warm presence behind him, holding him up, can only be Charlotte. He gets the briefest flash of memory, of the two of them by that lake, positions reversed, but it’s quickly gone, replaced by an especially harsh bout of coughing that distracts him from everything else.

When the coughing subsides and the pain in his chest lessens, Gereon realizes that he’s moving. The entire left side of his body is warm and he’s still wrapped in someone else’s coat and he can feel arms beneath his knees and on his back which means that someone is carrying him. He tries to find the energy to say that he’s alright and can walk but barely manages a wheeze.

The next thing Gereon knows, he’s in a moving car, and he remembers, vaguely, having driven here. He opens eyes that have drifted closed at some point on the walk to the car and watches as the blurry shapes in front of him resolve themselves into Henning and Czerwinski, oddly sideways. He isn’t quite sure what’s wrong until he gets the rest of his senses to focus and comes to the startling realization that he’s lying down with his head resting on one of Charlotte’s legs.

He quickly tries to sit up, but barely moves at all. “Don’t try to move,” Charlotte says, placing a hand on the side of his head. “You’ll be alright, just rest. We will take care of you.”

He doesn’t particularly want to obey Charlotte’s instructions, but is incapable of doing anything else. And so he lies there, uncomfortably aware of the fact that he is lying down with his head effectively on Charlotte’s lap, and he tries to ignore the pain in his chest and the burning in his lungs and the way his damp clothes stick to his skin, chilling him despite the coat still draped around him, despite the warmth of Charlotte’s body heat.

As a distraction, he tries to listen in on Henning and Czerwinski’s conversation, which is evidently another one of their typical arguments about something wildly unimportant. The normalcy of it almost makes him smile, but he’s far too exhausted. At any rate, though, it’s enough to make him think that everything is going to be okay, or at least, as okay as it’s ever going to get for him. He lets out a shaky sigh at this revelation, takes a deep breath that mercifully doesn’t end in a cough, and allows himself to relax, ever so slightly, accepting for once the fact that these people are quite intent on taking care of him.

thanks so much for reading! i am gonna talk for a bit...so cpr wasn’t like, Officially A Thing until the 50′s but the chest compressions and breaths had been things on their own for quite a while leading up to 1929. as far as i can tell they weren’t used together back then, but seeing as how gereon does it i figure maybe he’d learned both things separately at some point and then was either taught to put them together or just sort of tried it and realized it worked. i know the most likely explanation is the show people didn’t look up the history of cpr like i did bc i was curious but yeah. it’s not Technically a thing at this time but since it’s used in the show i figure i don’t have to justify my including it too terribly much. but interesting facts for you! anyway onto other stuff - the ending is a bit wonky but it is a well documented fact that i Can’t Do Endings so this should not come as a shock lmao. anyways it again was weird to write this in english bc They Are German but i hope it was ok regardless!!!

#whumptober2021 #no.11 #drowning #fic #babylon berlin #fandom #gereon rath #cared for #comfort #wet #my writing #i say things #anyways i love henning and czerwinski so muchhh i was so stoked to write them :) i hope they read well!#also i know henning would normally probably not call him gereon but i think in this situation he would yknow?#like. gereon is several years younger and maybe he's his superior but in this moment he's just a person yknow?#i could expound on that but i gtg to a study group! gn!!!

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years ago

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COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

A/n: Honestly this entire episode is gonna be fluff. I sprinkled a whole bunch of Y/n and Lucas brotp cause y'all loved it so much and honestly I love writing it. Lots of roasting each other this chapter. Also the Mike and Y/n dynamic after season 2 will be explained more as the season progresses. Enjoy!

||3rd Person POV||

The faint sound of crickets could barely be heard over the soft music of The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and The News plays from inside Castle Byers. Soft yellow light spills out from the cracks and slits of the castle from the battery-powered lamp where the young couple sat planning a campaign. It was clear that both had done a great deal of growing over the summer, just as their friends had. Will most of all, as he sat now in Castle Byers, he did so with a slightest of hunches seeing as he had sprouted tremendously in height. His shoulders had broadened a bit, and his voice had lowered as much had he had grown.

As for Y/n, the changes in her were more internal than external. Like Will, her physique had changed though not quite as drastically. Her features were far more defined than they had been in previous years, but the biggest change within her was how she held herself. The months since that dreadful night at the cabin, she had dedicated every spare moment to learning about herself... About her powers.

And now more than ever, she was one with her abilities. With help from El and the overwhelming support from Will, she exuded a whole new level of strength and confidence in herself. Something that set her apart from her previous attempts in secret the year before. Now with help, she thrived.

"The power of love is a curious thing

Make a one man weep, make another man sing"

"So what if, when they enter the tomb of Kuzatan - the villagers being in danger I'm sure would give them no way to cheat their way out - and then they..." her voice trails off, getting lost in the notes that seep into the air. She quirks a brow at the boy before her. "Will, hon? You listening?"

"Mmm?" Will hummed, torn suddenly from his blissful gaze.

Having been caught staring at Y/n, she realized he had missed the question. She laughed, shaking her head. Butterflies erupted in Will's stomach at the sound, and he realized he may never grow tired of it. He still couldn't believe his luck that she was dating him.

The corners of his lips tugged into a small grin as he mumbled a 'sorry'. Y/n simpered, trying to shake off the dizziness in her head that always appeared when he made her heart flutter.

She returned to her notes, and he lovingly watched her speak. His eyes would occasionally fall to her lips but he was drawn back to her eyes and the concentration they possessed. All the while the sappy lyrics spilling their way into his subconscious as he listened.

"Don't need money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train"

Just two years ago, the thought of her liking him was a myth in his eyes. Her ever noticing him as more than a friend was a sickly sweet dream that would never see the light of day.

"It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes"

And last year, with the Mind Flayer... He hated the thoughts he had, the feelings he felt when the Mind Flayer took over. The hate and disgust that crept up whenever she was around but he fought it. Though he could never forget the look on her face when the Mind Flayer attacked her.

"But it might just save your life

That's the power of love"

But now. They were happy. She saved him, and after his recovery, they were finally together.

"Will!" She laughed sharply, reaching over and swatting him lightly on the arm with her notebook.

Will was pulled from his daze yet again, no longer trying to hide the happiness and bliss he felt.

She smiled fondly and shook her head, placing her arm on his shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. The music playing from the radio she had gifted to him a year before swelled as their lips met in a tender kiss.

"That's the power of love,"

After several moments their lips break apart but their foreheads remained glued together. A light laugh breaks out between them, escaping through the blinding grins carved into their faces. Her eyes travel from the ground to meet with his, only to find he had already been staring at her with the same lovesick gaze. It brings the same storm of butterflies in her stomach and sporadic beating of her heart.

Neither Will nor Y/n could recall a time either of them felt this happy.

Y/n's gaze flickers back to Will's lips. She flashes a warm grin and gives him one last and swift peck on the lips before sitting back up. She tucks her notes father into her lap and that is when she catches sight of the time displayed on her watch.

"Shit,"

Immediately, Will's mood shifts.

"What? What's wrong?"

Her eyes find his and she quirks a brow, her hands already collecting their campaign papers and stowing them away in a safe place.

"We're gonna be late."

Out of reflex, Will checks his watch. His eyes widen in a brief flicker before gathering his things, though his movements are not as hasty as hers. He gathers his campaign papers, his eyes glazing over several notes he had made. The smallest bud of unease blooms in his stomach.

"You really think they'll like this campaign?" He asks, his gleeful composure fading for the first time since her visit.

The ache in his voice captures her attention, and quickly she drops what she's doing. She immediately recognizes the uncertainty in his features and feels a tug on her heart. A sad smile graces her face, and she drops her folder before leaning forward and cupping his face in her palms forcing him to look at her. His wide hazel eyes search hers finding nothing but love and comfort in them.

"They're gonna love it, Will. Cause, it came from you. Remember, " she smirks when his smile begins to return. "I'm just helping out."

Before he can protest she brings his face forward with a small hum, planting a kiss on his nose with a dramatic smack of her lips. His face erupts into a violent shade of scarlet against his wishes. After all this time, Y/n still managed to have this effect on him. She begins to lean away when she knows she's cheered him up, but before she can escape he captures her in another sweet kiss. He can faintly make out the f/f Slurpee that lingered from earlier that day. She hums contently and it blends perfectly with the drumming of his heart. He can feel his cheeks grow hot not just from his fluster but the feel of her palms growing warm against his skin.

Like Y/n's laugh, her warmth was something he was certain he would never tire of. It was something he had always seen in her, but after her powers had been discovered, it was only more obvious. Her touch always reminded him of the sun streaming in through the window on a chilly morning; a toasty blanket of light that hit your face just right. And he felt it now on his face as she kissed him. Although it was cut far too short in Will's opinion as she broke apart for air. Her thumb softly strokes his cheek, the pads of her fingers and palm still warm to the touch as sends him one more reassuring smile.

"And even if they don't," she continues, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "I'll blast 'em for ya."

Will chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup hers in thanks, nevermind the fact he didn't want her to let go quite yet. Alas, yet another moment lost to time. Her warm palms leave his face and immediately he feels colder, but he also knows they don't want to miss the movie. He smiles to himself as he packs up the remainder of his things as he thinks about it. His hands were almost always cold, a trait he had long before the Mind Flayer. And had it not been for her powers, Y/n might have been the same. It was yet another reason they fit so well together.

The crunch of a very small twig beneath Y/n's sneakers bring him back to reality for the third time. He looks up at Y/n to find her balanced on her tiptoes, legs folded ready to stand and she extends her palm for him to take.

"Come on, Sir Will," she says through a coy smile, her head gesturing behind her towards the cloaked entrance to the castle. "Starcourt awaits."

He brings himself to his knees to match her, ready to stand and duck outside into the night when he takes her hand. His thumb grazes her knuckles before planting a quick kiss on them, bringing a natural heat to her neck and face.

His face quickly contorts into a feigned expression of seriousness, all while dawning a fleeting and silly attitude as he waves his finger in the air. The way he always did as Will the Wise during campaigns.

"Then what are we waiting for, Y/C/N? Let us make haste!"

Will watches triumphantly as her lips press into a firm line that begins to twitch, the tell-tale signs she was fighting a losing battle with a grin as she shook her head. Y/n had yet to get used to this side of Will, though she did enjoy it. Since their time at the Snowball he had been far more relaxed. To the point where he would be cracking jokes, or surprising her with romantic gestures as such. It rarely came out like this, and when it did it was never around the others. It was something she wished they could see, but Y/n couldn't help the flutter of her heart knowing she was the only one to bring it out in him. She looks down at his soft gaze and humor in his eyes, before rolling her own, rising to her feet, and ducking out through the curtain door to avoid being caught with a smile.

"Dork," she laughs, her knuckles tingling from the unexpected gesture.

She hears his soft chuckles from behind her before he joins her side, and the couple falls into a comfortable silence as they grab their bikes off the forest floor and ride off into the night to the infamous Starcourt Mall.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

An excited grin finds Y/n's lips as the stunning neon lights of the mall come into view like a rather large homing beacon. Since its opening towards the beginning of the year, it had been flooded with people as it was now. And it was often frequented by the party as it quickly became their favorite hangout - besides Mike's basement of course - and it was on nights such as this they'd meet for a movie.

The giddiness in Y/n bubbled intensely when the welcoming aroma of salted pretzels and Hot Dog on a Stick mixed somehow perfectly with the scent of freshly-ironed linen and various perfumes, assailed her senses. It was the smell of the mall, the smell of summer, and the smell she often associated with many of her movie dates with Will. A favorite of theirs, which they had only seem a mere two weeks prior, was a newer film called The Goonies.

The rag-tag group of kids reminded them both of their own group, particularly the plucky and lovable Chunk who wistfully reminded Y/n of her brother who was currently away at camp. And Mikey, of course, the one to step up when everything went south reminded them both of their own Mike. And something about the kid on screen gave him a familiar and bittersweet feeling that tugged at his heart. Weirdly, he reminded Will of Bob and it made him smile a bit. Like he got to see him again.

The following week, the young couple dragged their friends to see it, assuring they'd love the film which they of course did. They only wished Dustin could make it there with them, but it was quickly decided they would a day of it when he got back. They certainly knew they wouldn't mind seeing it a third time, not if they got to see Dustin's reaction. Everyone back together again. Though Y/n and Will wouldn't miss the absence of teasing and/or disgusted remarks from Dustin on their relationship, that was for sure.

The pair slide their bikes into the bike rack before dismounting, and Will looks around a bit confused, his eyes flickering to his watch.

"Did we miss them?"

His worry melted when he saw her perfectly blissful composure, a soft smile playing her lips after checking her watch.

"Nope," she chirped, walking forward and taking his hand in hers walking him to the door.

"But the movie? You said it starts at eight," he asks, walking alongside her as his hand is tethered to hers. "It's eight twenty-five."

Y/n caught the closing glass door with her one free hand and the two slipped inside after the small group ahead of them, all the while her content never seemed to waver. She stopped suddenly and the crowd of people coming through the doorway flooded in around them, but his confused stare remained fixed on her as her wide eyes took in the exuberant sight before them. He could see the neon dancing in her e/c eyes as she looked to him smiling mischievously - and proudly at herself - as she pointed to the sign beside the door. His attention flickers to the bulletin board erected near the entrance. In a clear display of various showtimes, just under Return to Oz at eight-thirty was Day of the Dead at nine.

"I said the plan was to get here at eight," she smirked. "not that the movie started at eight. This way, you and I can swing by Scoops Ahoy, or whatever really, before the others get here."

"And they get here at..?" His growing excitement written on his face betrayed the hesitation in his voice.

She deflated a bit as she shrugged.

"Eight forty-five. Which gives us only twenty minutes, or so. I was hoping for more, but..." she trailed off with a smile, and gently poked his arm with her elbow, her hand still intertwined with his. "planning that campaign was fun."

A weak chuckle breaks loose, and he blushes under her gentle stare. Yet again Will wonders how he found himself with her, what he did to deserve her company. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, she shook her head wistfully, shutting down the thoughts before breaking out into a small jog towards the escalators.

"Come on," she laughed, pulling him along. "We don't have all summer!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The two emerged from Flash Studios with giddy laughter and stomachs coated with their favorite snacks from their previous visit to the food court. They smile down at the glossy photos they each possess, pointing out their favorite traits of the portraits they had just taken. Four photos of them - each in a more bright and colorful wardrobe than the previous - as they struck silly poses and crazy faces. All but one; which reminded Will of an even better version of the old science fair photo he had not-so-secretly admired for years.

Y/n wore an elated grin, but her eyes had closed. Her arm wrapped around Will as he planted a kiss on her cheek - the unexpected gesture being what prompted her eyes to flutter closed. All the while, the hand that had snuck around his back could be seen poking out from behind his head creating bunny ears.

The others were of equal quality, each with their own charms and unique mannerisms. Particularly the one of them back to back, arms folded and a silly feigned smolder but the bunny ears remained their favorite. It was a visual representation of their relationship and how far they had come.

Y/n slips her copy back into the thin plastic sleeve before dropping it at her side, the small handle hole dangling loosely from her curled fingers as she looks to Will. He is still admiring the photos in his hand and the look on his face - the happiness carved deep within his features - made her heart swell. He had been through such a great ordeal, more than any of them could ever possibly know - aside from El of course, who knew the heavy weight of trauma all too well. But now, in these moments together, and much like the ones back in Castle Byers, he seemed truly happy.

'He deserves it,' she thought to herself.

The two of them made sense together, and not because Will had carried a torch for her for so long, but because of the little things. The way they made each other laugh, the way they brightened each other's day. The way one spat between them, no matter how big, was never enough to break them but make them stronger.

It was because they were best friends.

Against her desires, Y/n broke her gaze away from Will and to the clock hanging over the fountain near the main entrance. The blue and yellow hands read eight thirty-eight. She deflated a bit, and nudged Will with her elbow.

"Well, the other's should be getting here any minute," she sighed, and he turned to look at her. "So I guess we should head back to the entrance."

Will nodded, already tucking the now sleeved photographs into his backpack before slipping it over his shoulder. Together, the two of them make their way back. Their footsteps have grown slower in the subconscious efforts of prolonging their alone time together. Will throws a glance Y/n's way as they walk, a tired smile fixed on his lips.

"What do you wanna bet we'll be waiting even longer for Mike?"

She now understands his subtle shift in demeanor, and it spreads to her as she lets out a flattened chuckle. She understands exactly what he is talking about. While she initially was very happy for her friends, Y/n was not immune to the growing impatience the rest of the party felt with how much time Mike and El were spending together.

"Nothing. I'm not dumb enough to take that bet." She scoffs back.

Will knew the frustration leaking through to her voice was not directed at him, but their shared frustrations with their friends. Each of them missed them a great deal despite a whole summer together. Y/n rarely saw El now, and Will saw Mike just as often. Alone time that is, any get-together the party planned - beside Starcourt due to the precautions surrounding El and her safety - El and Mike were hardly present. They globbed onto one another to the point they rarely spoke to the others - and no one could speak to just one of them alone anymore.

Like her boyfriend, Y/n enjoyed this summer greatly - particularly since Will had been such a big part of it - but the party had begun to grow lonely. More complicated that is. Dynamics between everyone were far more complex than they ever had been the older they got. Mike's frustrations with Y/n from the previous year were quicker to simmer down than she initially thought which relieved her greatly. But she wasn't sure if it was because they were all older, El was back to stay, or enough time had passed - or possibly all of the above - but things between her and Mike were just different. With everyone, in fact.

Y/n was grateful to have Lucas still, he remained the friend she could go to when she had a problem. Her best mate in DnD, and the boy she could always count on to be looking out for what was best for his friends as well as himself. But lately, he had been spending all of his spare time with Mike when neither of them were with their girlfriends.

This was another reason - out of many - that Y/n was more than thankful to have Will by her side. They both had felt a bit ostracized after the events of the previous year. Will's recovery had not been a quick one, but Y/n was there through thick and thin. As was he with her own struggles regarding the life of hers that once was, and the scary truths she faced with the tremendous powers inside of her. Hours of their lives had been spent pouring over the Missing Experiment files that Y/n still held in her possession - far away from her mother of course. A dark thought - not the first of it's kind - popped into her head about her friends' distance; Perhaps this was why she and Will were often forgotten...

Y/n immediately shakes the thought away, casting it further into the shadows of her mind. As she does, she is overwhelmingly grateful for the sudden sight of bright orange hair and a tye-dye cap. Relief washes over her and Y/n snatches up Will's hand, all traces of sadness gone and eagerly she drags him to the entrance doors faster.

Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair dismount their bikes, far too fixed on sweeping the crowd for any sight of their friends to notice Will and Y/n's bike parked just a few spaces over.

Lucas sighs, resting his hands on his hips as his head rolls to look at Max displeased. "First ones... again. Think they'll ever learn how to get here on time?"

Max shrugs, eyes scanning the parking lot wearing a less than impressed expression. "Doubtful."

"Welll," Lucas's expression changes quickly as he slips into a hopeful sing-song voice. He grins down at her from his less than obvious growth spurt. "At least we're alone..."

Max's deadpanned expression comes to face Lucas, though she can't seem to mean it. Her lips pucker as she tries not to smile, failing miserably. Instead, she laughs, her mouth parting to fire a comeback when the sound of her name enters their ears from behind them.

Max turns to find her best friend speed walking towards her, a hand gripped tightly around Wills. Will sent both Lucas and Max a soft smile, and she found it easy to replicate. She liked Will, and his somewhat timid presence made her induction of the party a lot easier. But it was Y/n she was most excited to see.

Max and herself had quickly become the best of friends. With Dustin gone, and the guys distancing themselves she once again began to feel adrift. Sensing the same discomfort in Max, and the bonds forged in the horrifying events of the previous year, the friendship blossomed.

"I stand corrected," Max remarks to Lucas as the couple approaches.

Lucas bit back a laugh.

Y/n simpered, sending a look Will's way. "We got here early. Got to roam around a bit."

The pair nod and Max sends Y/n a playful smile. Y/n releases Will's hand and with simultaneous grins, she and Max step forward towards each other. They bump fists three times before grasping one another's wrists and leaning back as they each balance on one leg and pull themselves back in. They share a small laugh and turn to the others with a giddy smile, Lucas and Will having already gotten used to their closeness. And the new handshake they had developed over the summer.

"So, tell us," Max begins, a mischievous smirk flickering to her boyfriend before landing on Y/n. "how is the happy couple enjoying their last night of freedom?"

Everyone laughs in response, knowing full well she is referring to Dustin's return from camp tomorrow. Since the Snowball, more specifically the official beginning of Y/n and Will's relationship, Dustin - while begrudgingly willing to admit he was happy for them - was less than pleased with their closeness. And he made no effort to hide it.

"Pretty good, I'd say," Y/n laughs, looking to Will who nods.

"We got some good photos over at Flash," he finishes.

Lucas and Max share a knowing expression before sending a flat, unimpressed look to either of their friends.

"What?" They ask in unison, furthering their point.

"Just," Lucas laughs, gesturing to them. "you two. You guys are-"

He looks to Max and it doesn't take her long to complete the joke they had clearly practiced at least once before.

"finishing each other's sentences." Without skipping a beat, or making eye contact, the second couple bump fists. Max laughs, revealing her light-hearted teasing. "Honestly, it's sickening."

More titters break loose, and Will rolls his eyes despite a smile."Whatever,"

"Yeah," says Y/n, amused tone growing flat again. "At least we're not like Mike and El."

A bitter, but mostly disappointed chuckle ripples throughout the gathered group of friends as they reflect, all of them silently agreeing. Finally, Will diverts their attention to the aforementioned Wheeler boy.

"Hey, where is he anyway?" He asks, looking at his watch.

"Take a guess." Lucas retorts.

"Well, he better hurry!" Max says, looking around matter-of-factly. "Or we're gonna miss the previews."

"Forget the previews," Y/n huffs, hands beginning to fiddle subconsciously with her watch. "We're gonna miss the opening at this rate."

"No way I'm missing the movie," Max remarks, arms folding over her chest as Y/n nods along with her."I'm going in with or without him. If he's late, that's on him."

"Wait-" Lucas's gaze fixes on a spot in the busy parking lot, and quickly he gestures. "There he is!"

"About time," Max grumbles.

Their collective gaze carries them to a bike being ridden by Mike Wheeler that peddles through the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. The entire lot is lit up by the strips of neon light, illuminating all the cars and turning the black tarmac of the concrete a deep blue. He sails into view, gliding through the intricate web of mall-goers with ease only to come to a gradual halt before their feet at the bike rack.

They all wear unimpressed looks as he discounts his new bike, a model he upgraded to only months ago, that he now secures in a spot beside Lucas's. Like the others - perhaps, even, the most - he has grown tremendously. He stands several inches taller, and for reasons unknown to a select few of his friends, the abrasiveness he had obtained the previous year lingered though not nearly as intense.

"You're late," Lucas huffs.

"Sorry," Mike says through shortened breaths.

"Again."

"We're gonna miss the opening," Will scolds.

"Yeah, if you guys keep whining about it." He retorts. "Let's go!"

Mike jumps into line with his friends, rushing for the doors as if the comment hadn't struck another nerve with his friends. Lucas' voice raises in pitch as he contorts his face, mocking Mike.

"If you guys keep whining about it. Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh."

The small act draws out a laugh in Y/n, a wide and mischievous grin stretches across her face as she matches his pace.

"No, Lucas," she corrects gently, pulling his gaze towards her as they walk."You gotta repeat yourself for emphasis if you wanna sound like Mike."

Everyone but Mike breaks into hysterical grins and wide eyes. Lucas' eyes light up as does his smile, his finger wagging excitedly as he nods and he scratches his chin and clears his throat. Mike all the while casts Y/n a sour look before rolling his eyes.

"My bad, Y/n, you're right." Lucas nods to her. "Set me up,"

Max and Will catch each other's smiling eyes before watching their partners' antics.

Y/n's smile drops, knowing immediately what he means, and exaggerated frown forms. "What are you talking about?"

Lucas's pitch grows high as does the volume of his voice as they enter Starcourt Mall, Y/n, and Will for the second time. Lucas's eyes grow wide.

"If you keep. Whining about it!"

The friends lock eyes and begin whining in sync.

"Nyeh-nyeh-NYEH!"

They burst into their own shared fit of laughter that doesn't quite reach the others in the same intensity, though smirks are still screwed tightly into Will and Max's cheeks. Mike's frown hardened as he stares dead ahead, and it breaks only once to send a cold glower to the conniving pair of friends.

"Hilarious." He deadpans.

"I thought so," Will chirps with a laugh.

The group rounds the corner, Shannon's Do You Wanna Get Away fights its way through the natural buzz of mall-goers as it plays overhead in the speakers, subconsciously filling the group of teenagers with building anticipation.

"Surprise, surprise," Mike fires back. "Look, there's nothing wrong with spending a little romantic time with my girlfriend."

"Of course there's not, Mikey," Y/n says, nimbly maneuvering through the small crowd that approached. "But this has been going on all summer, we're way passed,"

She brought her fingers in quotation marks. "'a little,'"

Before he can fire a response, The Party reaches the escalators. A plethora of apologies and 'excuse me's leave their lips as they weave through the crowd standing idly by as the escalators take them down.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry,"

"Excuse me, I'm sorry."

"'Scuse us! Thank you,"

They finally break through the wall of agitated people, Y/n's shoulder had accidentally hooked with another young woman who looked to be several years older and sent an apologetic look over her shoulder. Her gaze returned to the front just in time to see something similar happen to Mike, who collided with a girl their age rather roughly.

She continued walking with her friends but sent a bitter look his way.

"Watch it!"

"Yeah! Watch it, nerd!"

The Party's attention was brought to one of the benches surrounding the small decorative garden. There sat along the edge surrounded by her friends, was Erica Sinclair enjoying a vanilla cone with extra sprinkles.

"Isn't it passed your bedtime?" Lucas asks her as they pass.

"Isn't it time you died?" She fires back, causing a wide smile to break out on Y/n's face.

Mike is the first to enter Scoops Ahoy as he scurried inside ahead of everyone else, Lucas and Y/n being the last of the bunch inside.

"Lucas, you grossly underestimate your sister and it disappoints me greatly."

"Shut up, Henderson." He huffs.

A bright and satisfied laugh breaks loose from her chest as she files in with the rest of her friends and boyfriend to Scoops Ahoy. She quickly recognized the long cropped bob of dark blonde hair stuffed under the AHOY sailors hat and smiled subconsciously knowing Robin was at the counter. But much to her distaste, Mike began ringing the bell repeatedly in a shrill pattern that irked her.

Robin sent the boy a dissatisfied look, and without so much as blinking, she called back to her coworker in back.

"Hey, Dingus, your children are here."

The frosted glass windows are thrown open to reveal a disgruntled Steve Harrington in a matching vibrant blue sailor costume with a matching red name tag. His eyes land on The Party, all whom of which stand with blank and bored expression with the exception of the young Henderson girl who flashes a weak and toothy smile. He sighs with half-lidded eyes, his expression worn and tired.

"Again? Seriously?"

Mike slams his hand on the bell with an impatient look, earning three similar frowns from the two employees and Y/n Henderson.

Steve stands impatiently at the back door as the five teenagers seem to be taking their sweet time going through the back, completely disregarding his rules he had laid out. After all, he was risking his job for them to do this, and it seemed only few took it seriously.

"Come on, come on," he hisses.

They all file out of the door without so much as a second glance, except for Y/n, who held up the back and seemed eager to get out. She lingered by Steve, sticking her hand out and begrudgingly he complied. Their knuckles met in a quick fistbump they had begun doing one day when Dustin and herself had visited with him. A genuine smile lit up her face from a simple happiness that could only come from a Henderson.

"Thanks for all this Steve,"

She scurried down the hallway with her friends, remembering the rules, and not wanting him to get in trouble. But her face lights up, and Y/n spins on her heel to face him, still walking backward.

"I'll tell Dustin you say hi!" She calls.

Steve watches as the group disappears down the hallway, and he shakes his head with a heavy sigh as he leans against the doorknob.

Okay, so they weren't all that terrible.

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breanne-says-boo · 4 years ago

Text

October 2020 NYCC - What We Do in The Shadows panel

We did learn a little bit more about the upcoming Season 3 in this panel! Things bolded are relevant to S3 (**potential spoilers ahead under the cut!**)

Video can be found here [ X ]

Kathryn VanArendonk (a critic for Vulture) was the moderator for the panel and was joined by Mark (Colin Robinson), Kayvan (Nandor), Harvey (Guillermo), Matt (Laszlo), Natasia (Nadja), as well as showwriter Stefani Robinson and producer/writer Paul Simms. Kathryn wrote this article about the show if you would like to read it.

Details below under the cut --->

Kathryn asked what each of their character would be doing in quarantine and how they would be handling COVID-19:

Kayvan: He immediately says there would be a strain between Nandor and Guillermo, especially with there being a lack of victims for him to eat. Nandor would make Guillermo order LOTS of delivery and eat the delivery workers.

Harvey: it would be very awkward in the house for Guillermo particularly after the events of the season 2 finale.

Paul: Guillermo would be the only one in the house to wear a mask because he’s really the only one who cares/pays attention. The vampires would be confused/irritated by it and ask him to take off his “stupid costume”

Natasia: The vamps would probably be like the people who wear the masks under their noses if they wear them at all. They might be sort of unsympathetic and say “Oh, here we go again” having lived through many pandemics. The vamps might take advantage of everyone being at home but Guillermo might be stressed having to worry which of their victims have COVID and touching the bodies to throw them out. Harvey adds on and imagines that maybe it’s revealed that one of the vampires in the house is responsible for a different pandemic like the Spanish Flu or something to that effect.

Mark: Colin is a no-masker (for the purpose of irritating others) and getting into arguments about his constitutional rights inside stores. He’d probably be pretty hungry since he mostly feeds at the office and his coworkers would have to work at home.

Matt: They’d probably have no idea because they don’t watch the news or pay attention to current events at all

Kathryn immediately then asks about the Nandermo relationship- she asks Harvey and Kayvan if their characters love each other and how that relationship is developing.

Harvey: he started playing Guillermo with this infatuation with Nandor and that there were “blurred lines” in how he sees Nandor. He then explains that it seems kind of curious to the audience why Guillermo would continue to serve Nandor and help the vamps they continue to treat him so badly, and in Harvey’s mind, Guillermo is just driven by love and driven by emotion. He’s just very human and wants to do the right thing. (Harvey then “steals” Kayvan’s question about if Nandor is in love with Guillermo and Kayvan goes into Nandor-mode and begins to chastise Guillermo for being rude. Nandor: “Do you see what I have to put up with?”)

Kayvan: Nandor needs Guillermo and is “wrestling with his feelings” towards Guillermo. It is “heading towards a dangerous” territory for him because he “can’t be falling again after all [his] marriages”...he’s excited to see what happens next, but things are pretty “rocky” for them as of where we left them off.

My thoughts: seems like this is indicating a role-reversal of sorts in season 3, with Guillermo falling out of his infatuation with Nandor and Nandor falling in love with Guillermo?

Kathryn asks Matt about what it’s like doing the “musical” epsiode for Laszlo since he has legitimate music experience (Matt sort of laughs about her use of “legit” in regards to his music).

Matt says its essentially demo song work. It’s good fun doing short ideas for pitching these 30 second songs in the space with ‘Tasia (Natasia)

Natasia: says it was a dream to do the songs with Matt and “plant seeds” in the work space because of Matt’s musical background. She mentions that Mark had an improv moment where Colin goes on stage to join Nadja and Laszlo and begin singing/rapping. Mark says that Colin begins jokingly doing it but then we see him get more into the song and enjoying it.

Paul says that if we like the prospective idea of Colin singing, we should be excited because Colin gets a singing/song moment in season 3. Paul then says something along the lines of that he’s happy they get to do these sort of bits and that all the casts members go along with it because “We are all dedicated to being silly...and stupid in a clever way.”

Kathryn then asks the whole group what kind of scenes do they look forward to doing for their characters and which scenes they like to watch their co-stars taken on

Harvey: likes doing action stuff and getting the change to play almost like these two different personalities in Guillermo- his quieter side and his badass side! He has a fun time with all his cast mates doing scenes and watching them. He has a hard time doing some scenes with Kayvan because he makes Harvey laugh and takes him out of character.

Kayvan: he likes doing scenes with Karvey because of the “tenderness.” He also like the house meeting scenes because they spin out into something outrageous or hilarious that happens after the fact.

Natasia: she likes doing Talking Heads scenes (when the scene is just of their characters speaking to the audience and to each other like in an interview) with Matt. She also likes doing the Fancy Room scenes, scenes with other women, and scenes with Shaun/Sean the neighbor. She likes scenes where Nandor is “saying thick stuff” because of the contrast of Nandor being this fearless warrior but also really stupid. She likes scenes where Matt has to do stuff really fast or has to run because it makes her laugh.

Matt: likes doing “loose” scenes where they can do anything that they want to do with a scene. He also likes doing the Talking Heads scenes with Natasia and watching the stuntmen do stuff he’s supposed to be doing. Apparently Kayvan let out somehow that Matt is afraid of heights. Kayvan: “Did I?...you’re getting better though...”

Mark: likes opportunities to play off of what the others say. He likes watching scenes where “Matt deal with Kayvan” because Laszlo can’t stand fools even though [Nandor] is one of the biggest fools (he says Laszlo but I think he meant Nandor with the mention of Kayvan). Scenes where they belittle Guillermo and scenes with Natasia are also fun.

Then Paul said he had a special guest who could also answer this question and in popped Nadja doll into the chat in her own separate video box. They were teasing her for being “on mute” and had her answer yes/no questions by nodding her head.

Kathryn asks Stefani about debates in the writer’s room regarding vampire biology and life. She asks Stefani about what’s fun about bringing in new creatures to the show and developing the lore about the vampires.

Stefani: it’s fun but it’s also hard in the writer’s room making decisions about these sort of things. The ability to pick and choose parts of the lore, but there can be contradictions they have to deal with. She wants the lore and the aspects of their nature to come together and be grounded so that it’s fun but isn’t too ridiculous. She considers how these elements/creatures can be “show-pieces” for the characters to interact with and how they contribute to the story and how they are funny.

Stefani then notes that Jermaine was very anti-leprechaun but Paul said he tried to reason with him. They try to decide among themselves what “fits” within their world and what doesn’t but there really isn’t a specific reason for what they go with.

Paul says there will be 3-4 new kinds of creatures in season 3. But no aliens, he notes.

Natasia asks if somehow Sesame Street/Muppets would exist within their world and could make a cameo (I’m guessing because of the Count connection?) Paul jokes and says “Stefani, I don’t know what you’re doing tomorrow...but if we can schedule another meeting we could spend 6 hours making this happen.” Natasia then says she would love to see Miss Piggy and Nadja have some great chats. Same with Kermit and Nandor. Matt says he thinks Guillermo should find R2D2 buried in the garden but none of their characters recognize it.

All of season 3 is currently written. Kathryn asks about anything else they can tease for us:

Paul says there is in fact a bit of dialogue (3/4 of a page) about Kermit the frog that Natasia “accidentally came upon” (I don’t know how serious he is about this).

The vampires will go on a roadtrip! They will be traveling someplace they don’t normally go to, and the issue of having to bring soil from their homeland will be brought up

There is a birthday! It’s a big important birthday...for Colin! (maybe Colin’s song moment is him singing Happy Birthday?)

Nandor is looking for love and decides that it is time for him to find a partner

Some characters will be coming back, including Shaun/Sean the neighbor who will appear in two episodes

#wwdits fx #What We Do in the Shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #nycc #wwdits tv #wwdits

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seriefic · 5 years ago

Text

A favor-Oscar Diaz

Pairing: Oscar x Reader

Summary: Oscar disappears for days and when he comes back he needs a favor

Tags: Fluff

Warnings: some blood

A/N: English isn´t my first language, i only had a lot of ideas after wathing the s3 and Oscar is bae so here you have this, i hope you enoy it.

Ocar had called you several days ago, telling you that you would not know about him in several days because he had something to solve, you had calmly replied that he should be careful and call you as soon as possible, after hanging up the phone you cried, you cried silently for long minutes and the following days you tried to stay calm distracting yourself with everything you could. It was during those eternal days when you realized that you not only liked that man, but that you loved him, you loved him as you had not loved ever before, you felt like your heart fell out of your chest every time you thought that something had happened or about not seeing him again ... your nights had become eternal hours spinning around the bed, everyone around you had noticed something was wrong.

Until one day at 3AM someone knocked on your door and you ran to open it, finding an Oscar with several wounds and covered in blood.

-Dios mio, come inside- helping him to lean on you, you sat him on the sofa and the first thing he said was “I'm going to stain it”

-I don't care, estupido-you ran up and took all the medical supplies that were around the house, towels and water, carefully you took off his bloody shirt, tossing it aside and looking at his wounds, you proceeded to clean them carefully, first with water and then with alcohol and hydrogen peroxide, to which the man responded by biting his tongue.

-What happened?- You asked as you continued with the cures, with a slightly shaky voice, doubting if he would like to speak or if it would be a delicate question.

-I killed someone- he blurted out without looking at you, you didn't answer and then he took your hands away from him, got up and went to the door.

-Wait-you shouted going behind him and holding his arm carefully to not to hurt him- what are you doing?-Oscar closed his eyes tight and clenched his teeth, something, apart from what he had told you and all the injuries, was not going well.

-I have killed someone- he repeated in a higher tone, taking your hand away from him again-It's okay if you want me to go, you don't have to help me

-Have you heard me say that? -You replied annoyed-sit on the sofa and let me take care of you.

He didn´t opposes and obeyed, clearly he didn´t have the strength to argue.

-Oscar, when we started dating I knew what you were doing, I knew you were doing illegal, dangerous things and it crossed my mind that maybe you had already killed someone, but I've known you, I know you're good, you care about the people you love , you have sacrificed your whole life to take care of your brother, you are funny, loyal, a good chef, intelligent and I love you.

You paused because the tears were starting to collect in your eyes and cut your breath -I know that what you have done is not for pleasure, I know because I see you, I do not see Spooky, I see Oscar Diaz, I know Spooky is a part of Oscar but he is not Oscar.

When you finished talking you started crying because of all the tension accumulated in those days and because it broke your heart that he thought you would not accept him, Oscar carefully hugged you and you wrapped your arms around him, you felt his lips on your head, leaving you warm and loving kisses, you separated a little from him and you saw tears on his face too, you wiped them with your hands, trying not to touch the wounds and caressed his face carefully.

-I love you Oscar Diaz, you are the love of my life-you said before leaving a soft kiss on his lips, when you moved away you found a big smile on his face and another kiss in response.

-I love you too, (YN), the woman of my life-That didn´t come out of his mouth in a cheesy way, it was serious and you nodded, moving away a little to continue healing his wound.

After an hour, you only had to finish sewing the neck wound, you had burned the tip of a needle and you had given Oscar a book to bite him.

-Why do you know how to sew wounds? Do you have to do it often with children?

-No, children usually have bleeding noses, that's all, but when my brother got into trouble, I was the one who took care of his injuries so that my parents didn't find out -you said with a shrug-it´s disgusting but you get used to it .

-That sounds like you have done it many times

-This is the fifth time I do it.

Oscar laughed at the way you said it but quickly complained when he felt the pull that you hit with the needle- (YN) -he muttered in pain -I need a favor.

You were going to ask but the door rang, you got up to open but Oscar stopped you-It's 5 AM, don't open.

-What if it's someone who needs help?

-And that someone has skipped all the apartments before yours until they have reached a sixth floor? don't be naive

-Okay, we'll wait for them to go, don't do anything stupid, you're hurt-you warned him but the doorbell rang twice more and then you heard the voice of your neighbor on the other side of the door-oh shit.

-Who is it?- Asked Oscar and you shook your head.

-It's the neighbor, the pervert I told you about, if I don't open he won't leave.

-Okay, open it, I'm going to scare him a little-he said, showing all his teeth when he smiled, got up and put the gun, he had left aside on the sofa, in the back of his pants.

You opened the door crossing your arms over your chest, aware that you were wearing a tank top and what was the first place the man looked at.

-Good night (yn) I hope I didn't wake you up but ...- he paused and looked you up and down.

-What do you want?- You said cutting him, tired of having that guy hanging around you.

-I wanted to warn you that there is a trace of blood that reaches here and the neighbor of the second floor has seen a strange guy, who seemed from some gang, hanging around here.

-That´s all?

-Yes, if you are afraid you can stay in my house or I can stay here -he said taking a look after you- you are alone, it can be dangerous- Your grimace was obvious but the man in front of you didn't seem to understand.

-She´s not alone- Oscar's voice came after you, he placed himself behind you, putting an arm around your shoulder and leaving his hand, where he had the gun, at your cleavage, where the creepy man had been looking at.

The man's mouth opened and closed several times without really knowing what to say, Oscar raised an eyebrow waiting for him to say something and it was you who spoke.

-You see that I'm perfectly fine with my boyfriend, you can go, good night -You closed the door in his face and turned to Oscar -Do you know that you are very hot when you put yourself in a protective mode?

-I know, hynas love it

-hynas? -you answered raising your eyebrows and walking to the bathroom, you weren't jealous but you wanted to annoy him- When they hurt you again go to the house of some hyna to heal you- you shouted while you turned on the tap and heard him laugh, then you didn't hear anything else, just the door.

Oscar left the apartment and as he thought, the neighbor was still there-get the fuck out there, (YN) is my woman, if i see you again or find out that you've been around her, the next thing you will know is that the Santos have cut your dick.

-It was not my intention

-What was not your intention? -He got closer to him, like a predator, making him hit the wall -I saw how you looked at her, you appear at his door at 5AM and you stay behind the door spying, you´re lucky today i´m in a good mood-he walked away from the man who was shaking and sweating uncontrollably, but turned and punched him in the stomach-much better.

The man leaned against the wall trying to catch his breath and Oscar closed the door behind him with a slam.

You were facing him with your arms crossed and a questioning expression.

-¿Que?

-Nothing, it's okay, I also wanted to punch him-you said approaching him to hug him-but can we go to sleep now? - rubbing your cheek on his chest and yawning.

-Of course mamita, whatever you want -he said tightening the hug and walking to yout room, where he lay carefully, in front of you and you snuggled in him.

-Tomorrow you will have to answer me about the favor -he repeated and you nodded already half asleep

He looked at you when he heard a "hmm" come from your mouth, you had already fallen asleep, knowing that Oscar was fine, all the accumulated stress of those days without almost having slept had left and having him by your side made you relax completely.

Although Oscar was also tired, he watched you sleep for several minutes, stroking your hair and thinking about what he was going to ask you, he remembered the day you met, you appeared in front of him, shy but smiling, asking him if he wanted you to delete some photos that you had taken because "I'm sorry, I thought it was a very nice photo, don´t think that I am weird or a pervert" at first he wanted to scare you and make you erase the photos but it felt wrong to think of doing that, so the answer was completely different "You can keep the photo if you let me take a photo of you" at that moment you had doubts but in the end you accepted, something in your head had said that you should accept and later, when at night , after asking for your number to send you the photo, he sent it to you along with a message that said "hey ma, what are you doing" and since then you both knew that there was no going back.

Casual dates in the first places that crossed your mind, endless conversations, laughter, jokes, kisses, Oscar feeling that his life was normal, feeling loved, you were what he wanted in his life, that's why, the "favor" that he wanted to ask you was to marry him.

#Oscar Diaz #Spooky #On my block #spooky x reader #Oscar x reader #Oscar Diaz x reader #Santos

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salmonthestoryteller · 4 years ago

Text

If x(y)=n…

Prompt: "You don't have to stay."

Science Bros. Set post s2 in a nebulous s3

Michael had never hesitated to enter the Wild Pony before, but he hadn't been expecting this phone call. Had debated about calling pretty much everyone in his phone directory multiple times, before finally getting in his truck and driving over.

Maria frowned at him when he finally entered. "She's in the back. I told her she could stay at my place, but she said to call you."

The other patrons were gone, as was the staff. She was clearly finishing her own tasks for the night. Michael could only shrug - he didn't have an explanation for that.

"I didn't know Liz and you were close." She added after a moment.

"We bonded over her jailbird experience." He quipped.

They'd actually bonded over science when Isobel was in the pod, and again while trying to save Max. But since most of their group tended to forget Michael was a genius unless he was jamming it down their throats, it wasn't worth trying to explain. Most of the group, except Liz, he corrected. Who, for reasons he still couldn't explain, had kept in increasing contact with him after she'd left Roswell last year.

Somehow, instead of her new co-workers, Liz was dialing his number at 2am to complain about setbacks in her research. It had taken weeks of accepting her phone calls before he was calling back to bitch about his calculations not showing the results he wanted in his continued attempts to unlock the secrets of their homeworld technology. Both their phones set to speaker as she bustled around some brightly lit medical facility and he moved around his bunker or the junkyard - talking at odd hours of the day or night.

Liz grinned at him when he entered the room, so apparently she had not reached the upchucking portion of her drunken night yet. She was on the floors though, nursing a bottle still. So they could still get there. "Mikey." She greeted.

"Ortecho." He stopped in front of her. "You do know there's only room for one alcoholic genius in our friend's group, right?"

Liz wrinkled her nose, seeming to contemplate the idea. She grinned again, apparently having found a satisfactory answer. "Well, then, I claim the spot. So you have to be the sober genius from here on out."

Michael sighed, and held out his hand. "Up we go. Let's get you back home."

"Don't wanna go home." Liz informed him.

"Why?"

"Don't want Rosa to see me all-" She waved her hand to indicate her inebriated state.

Michael considered telling her that she should have thought of that sooner, before deciding he really didn't have the right to be lecturing anyone about their life decisions. "Okay, so do you know where you want to go?"

Liz seemed to consider that for a moment. "The Pod Caves."

Michael stared at her for a long moment, trying to decide if he'd heard her right. "The Pod Caves?"

Liz chose that moment to grab his hand and raise herself unsteadily to her feet. "I wanna go to the Pod Caves."

"Okay, I'll take you there."

Liz wouldn't leave the bottle, insisting she had paid for it. Michael decided if she hadn't, she could work it out with Maria later. The drive to the abandoned mine would probably have helped sober her if she hadn't been continuing to drink from it the whole trip. He'd thought to stop at the gas station for bottled water and aspirin, seeing as there would be none at the cave and acetone wasn't going to help her hangover like it would his.

When he parked, she got out by herself - stumbling up toward the mine but not entering. "Max kissed me here." She announced.

"That's knowledge I could have lived without, Ortecho."

"Two years ago today. Well, yesterday." Liz continued, not bothered by his sarcasm.

Michael froze, but sighed. Well, that kind of explained the situation. But if Liz was still hooked on Max, then why weren't they together? Instead of making everyone miserable by moping separately? He grimaced at the thought. Hi Pot, Meet Kettle.

"I'm still soooo mad at him." Liz continued unprompted. "But I also miss him. I miss him lots."

Yeah, this was hitting close. Not as much for the present day, but for ten years prior that statement could have been his own words. Because he had been mad at Alex for his part of their messy equation. But he'd also spent every day missing him. "I get that." He finally offered.

"We are the smartest people in our group." Liz continued, apparently taking that as permission to continue. "But we are also a couple of dumb fucks when it comes to relationships. We suck at them."

"C'mon, let's get inside." He'd noticed her starting to sway and had a feeling she would pass out soon. He reached out a hand, planning on guiding her to the destination, but apparently Liz took the gesture differently, and she threw her arms around him in a hug, sniffling into his shoulder. He hugged her back, awkwardly at first - taken by surprise - but more firmly as she continued to hold on.

"Not fair. Relationships should be like… like science. X and y cause z reaction and only alter if n is introduced."

"Yeah, definitely doesn't work that way."

When she drew back, he led her gently toward the mine, using his powers to help her keep her footing the few times she stumbled. "I want to be with Max, but I'm not sure if we're good for each other."

Michael wondered if he should be keeping a checklist of ways this conversation referenced his own issues with Alex. "Maybe we're looking at it wrong."

"What do you mean?" There were blankets in the cave, and she didn't hesitate to wrap herself up in one before sitting down in front of the pods.

Michael grabbed his own blanket and joined her. "Maybe we're thinking about relationships like they should be n, when they're really… finding all the equations where y and x equal n."

Liz frowned. "So we're looking for a completed experiment. When relationships are actually research and development."

"I mean we never give up on our research." Michael pointed out.

"Just our relationships." Liz filled in the blank. "It kinda makes sense. In a weird way that I'd never talk to about anyone else but you."

Michael couldn't help but laugh, and Liz joined him. By the end, they were leaning against each other, still occasionally falling into bouts of snickering.

"I think I'm going to throw up." Liz informed him suddenly.

"Yeah, I figured." He'd brought the water into the mine with them, and he floated one of the bottles over.

"You don't have to stay."

"I know, but I will."

#mgweek20 #guerinweek20 #rnm fic #michael guerin #liz ortecho #science bros

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multiwarblerrps · 3 years ago

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love aint (blainofsky) chapter 2

summary: A few weeks after their meeting in the hospital, Blaine and Dave run into each other at Scandals, the gay bar in West Lima. word count: 3,257 rating: pg warnings: underaged drinking notes: (semi-S3 canon 1x1 RP written with @multiberryrps) established klaine, eventual blainofsky. 250k+ words and ongoing. Also on: AO3

“Man, they’re getting their asses kicked today.”

Dave gave a little laugh as he sipped his beer, finishing it off and setting the empty bottle back down on the bartop. He was watching a football game on a small 14-inch TV stashed behind the bar. Only he and the bartender were watching; everyone else in the bar much rather preferred watching the music video clips play along with the booming music.

It wasn’t often that Dave ventured out to Scandals and when he did before, he was still in the closet. He had to sneak away and almost assume a completely different identity back when he was hiding who he really was. But things were different now. He was out and somewhat proud-- he was still adjusting-- and being at Scandals was the most comfortable place he felt like he could be himself.

“Hey, can I get another?” Dave asked, watching as the bartender gladly went to fetch him his drink. It was the first time in a while he’d pried his eyes away from the TV for more than a minute or two and he took the time to survey the place. There was the obvious share of regulars but there was one guy at the complete opposite side of the bar that he didn’t see quite as often-- one Blaine Anderson.

Blaine had just settled at the end of the semi-crowded bar and exchanged pleasantries with his favorite bartender-- it had been a while since he’d visited. He tried not to make a habit out of going since he’d been with Kurt. After ordering his usual drink he just happened to glance down at the other end of the bar where he saw a familiar face.

They locked eyes and when the look of recognition passed over them, Dave smiled and lifted his hand for a meek wave hello. It had been a little while since they’d last seen each other and Dave felt a little bad that he hadn’t reached out to Blaine like he had promised that evening in his hospital room.

With his drink in his hand, Blaine took the initiative to get closer to Dave. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smiled as he took the barstool next to him. He felt a bit relieved to know someone in the crowd-- especially someone that wasn’t from his group of friends at school. “I thought you might’ve lost my number,” Blaine teased him, giving him a little nudge as he sipped his drink.

“H-hey,” Dave greeted a little awkwardly, though he was genuinely happy to see him. “Yeah, sorry about that. Things have been a little crazy lately; I really meant to call you.” When he knew the lack of explanation probably wouldn’t fly as a good excuse, he elaborated. “I, uh, have to repeat my senior year.”

“What? Why?” Blaine asked, wrinkling his forehead as he placed his drink on the bar. “At Thurston or at McKinley?”

“At McKinley,” Dave answered. “Uh, I guess when my dad tried to see if I could transfer, it turned out that it was too late in the year and they basically said it wasn’t doable unless I took extra classes and summer school. Starting the year over just felt like the best thing since I don’t want to go back to Thurston. My dad and I actually just finalized everything so I’m set to go to McKinley next fall. I’m sort of-- I don’t know-- celebrating, I guess.” He gestured just as the bartender returned with his beer and he motioned for a toast before taking a swig.

Blaine tapped his glass against Dave’s bottle before taking a drink himself. “Wow.” He shook his head as he processed his friend’s news. “Well, I mean, I suppose that’s a good thing-- you should take some time to gather yourself and relax before jumping back in.” Then the realization hit him and his face lit up a little bit. “Hey!” He turned to Dave a little bit. “We’ll get to spend our senior year together then-- that’s exciting!”

Dave broke out into a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m trying my best to look forward to it. I mean, I’m out but I also kind of want to keep my head down because I don’t really want to deal with anyone giving me a hard time.” He shrugged then as he tried to remain optimistic. Attempting to shift the attention from himself, he asked Blaine a question. “So how about you? Where’s your boyfriend?”

An audible sigh fell from Blaine’s lips as his smile faded. “Kurt’s, uh,” he took another drink. “He’s with my brother and the rest of the glee club. They’re at my house fawning all over him and how great he is.” There was a bitter tone to Blaine’s voice as he rolled his eyes.

“Your brother?” Dave gave Blaine a confused look.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, I really do,” he shook his head. “He’s just…” Blaine really hesitated to say anything about Kurt that he wouldn’t say directly to his face; he didn’t feel right complaining about his boyfriend ever but between his brother, senior ditch day, and Kurt getting ready to leave for New York, he was feeling a bit selfish. “Cooper’s really pushy and not to sound like a child but he hurts my feelings a lot and Kurt doesn’t really care to listen. I mean, I’ve never really talked about Cooper before but it’s for good reason-- then he showed up unexpectedly and I didn’t have a chance because ‘Oh wow, Blaine, your brother is Cooper Anderson? He’s the most handsome and talented guy in the world!’” He mocked his friends’ voices as he rambled a little.

Dave furrowed his brow. He didn’t peg Kurt to be the kind of guy to just cast his friends-- let alone his boyfriend-- aside like that; that didn’t sound like the Kurt he knew. “Sorry about your brother being a jerk. At least here you don’t have to be around that,” he said, trying to look on the bright side. He didn’t feel like he was in any place to offer up real advice but he still wanted to at least attempt making Blaine feel better. “We can drink a couple of beers and talk about something that isn’t Kurt or your brother if you need a distraction,” he pointed to the TV behind the bar. “Celtics are down by thirteen.”

Blaine finished off his first drink and waved down the bartender for another as he let out another sigh. “It’s fine,” he said, glancing up to the screen that Dave had pointed to. “Figures,” he mumbled, chuckling. “Not surprising with the week I’m having-- my team can’t even win.”

Dave really wanted to console Blaine somehow but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He didn’t know Blaine well enough to comment on his brother and he wasn’t looking to meddle in his and Kurt’s relationship. He just wanted Blaine to know he was there for him, for whatever he needed. “Hey,” he spoke up, hoping to keep Blaine’s mind off of what was getting him down. “I know I just said the thing about staying under the radar even though I’m out, but do you think I could, like, hang out with you guys at Glee from time to time? Last year when Coach had us do the halftime show, it was actually a lot of fun.”

“Yeah?” Blaine’s face lit up a little, never for a minute thinking he would even begin to entertain the idea of setting foot inside the choir room. “Absolutely, of course! Between you and me,” He leaned in just an inch. “I’m sort of lined up to be the ‘New Rachel’ next year so, you’re definitely in if I say so,” he chuckled, his nose crinkling as he looked at Dave, his smile growing. “That would be wonderful, that makes me really happy.” He sat up a little straighter in his seat, the news clearly brightening his day.

Seeing that talking about that silly glee club made Blaine so happy, Dave thought to keep the conversation going even though he only sort of understood. “‘New Rachel’-- what’s that?” he asked, sipping his beer. He thought about the girl and what she represented in the club. “You’re going to be bossy and annoying?” He laughed at his own joke. “Shouldn’t it be that you’ll be the ‘New Finn’? ‘Cause you’re the lead guy, right?”

Blaine chuckled softly, shaking his head. “C’mon, Rachel’s not that bad. She’s just… misunderstood,” he defended, shrugging. He felt like he and Rachel were cut from the same cloth sometimes. “I mean, technically the new lead guy, but we all know I’m more capable of taking control and leading us to win than Finn. I mean, he’s great and all and he’s a good leader; Rachel’s just better at getting down to business and knowing what’s important in the competition world.” He noticed he was beginning to ramble again and it made him laugh. “Sorry, I know you’re just barely interested-- not trying to scare you away.” He smiled fondly. “I just love the glee club a lot.”

Dave laughed along, not because he really understood but because Blaine just made him laugh. It was fun to see him so happy about his little club-- it was a lot like how Dave got excited about football so he could sort of relate. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize-- I get it. Do you guys have your championship game soon? Or, uh, whatever you guys call it?” he asked.

“Nationals,” Blaine nodded, smiling fondly at Dave. “We won the last competition while you were still in the hospital-- us and the Warblers dedicated our performances to you, I dunno if you heard. But, yeah, our next competition is in a few weeks, we’re going to Chicago which is exciting.”

“Uh, yeah, I think that Sebastian guy told me about that. I think he felt bad about being an asshole the last time we spoke so he said he did some charity or fundraiser thing in my honor, or something-- I don’t know,” Dave recalled, though the conversation he and Sebastian had had about that was already so brief. “Chicago, huh? That sounds like fun… Man, it’d be cool to eat a real Chicago-style pizza in Chicago.” Having lived his entire life in Ohio, the only time he ever got to travel out of state was to watch a football game or two in Indianapolis. “But yeah; that’s super exciting… Are you guys nervous about the big game?”

Blaine thought it was extremely cute that Dave was sticking to sports terminology when talking about show choir; it made his smile stick. “I’m personally not nervous, I know everyone else is-- probably not Rachel. I have confidence that we’ll win.” He nodded, trying not to sound too arrogant. Biting on his lip, he shrugged. “Maybe you should see if your dad would let you come cheer us on. I’m sure you could bunk with us-- Mr. Schuester is supportive of you joining at any point so I’m sure if he thought it would turn you on to the idea he would definitely let you.”

Dave nodded along with Blaine, finding his confidence a great trait. He wondered to himself silently if it came with the territory of being out and proud. Since Dave wasn’t especially invested in the glee club, he wasn’t sure what to think or make of coming along with the New Directions to Chicago. “Is that allowed? I don’t even go to McKinley again-- or, yet,” he voiced his concerns though he made no personal qualms with actually going with them. “I mean, I have all the time in the world right now until next school year so that sounds fun, but, I thought you had to be part of the team to ride on the team bus. Or, I guess, ‘team plane’ is more accurate.”

“We actually are taking a bus, so you were right the first time,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’ll talk to Schuester, I’m sure he’d love to have you.” Blaine promised, knowing that Will was very sensitive to Dave and his experience and certain that hearing his story of repeating his senior year and possibly wanting to join the glee club would be enough to let him join. “You could hang out with us and get to know us a little better so when you come to school next year you don’t have to worry about making friends; you’ll already have them.”

The prospect of having friends from the get-go sounded appealing. He wasn't sure how the guys on the football team would treat him when he returned and even though everyone thought the glee club was a bunch of losers, they at least had each others' backs. "I'll ask my dad; I guess it'd be cool to see how it all works behind the scenes, too." Dave thought he should warn Blaine before he got a little too ahead of himself-- "But no promises on actually joining; it's fun but even I can see how dumb Finn looks on stage. I can barely dance better than he can," he laughed.

Blaine let out a melodic laugh, shaking his head as he recalled the last time Dave danced with the glee club. “Eh, I seem to recall you being extremely talented out there on that football field-- better than Finn, even. You were very sharp, very good,” he encouraged, knowing that Dave had a lot of hidden talent beneath all of his insecurities. “No pressure on joining,” he added, “You could just come sit in sometimes or participate every once in a while.”

"Yeah? You were watching me?" Dave asked, surprised that anyone actually had an opinion about his dance moves. He was one guy in a sea of zombies; he figured the only person actually watching him amongst all the dancers and singers was his dad. "Yeah, well, I don't know-- I'll have to think about it. But I'll keep the offer in mind." Dave knew it was possible to juggle football and glee club but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be that guy; he was already going to be in the spotlight now that he was out. But maybe once the school year started, he'd feel a bit more comfortable.

“Yeah, I was,” Blaine smiled at his friend, shrugging. “I noticed when you ran out to join them and honestly, even in a sea of dancing football players, you still stood out because you were so much better than the others,” He said honestly as he finished off his second drink.

Dave chuckled at the compliment as he waved the bartender over to refresh their drinks. "I, uh, don't know about that," he replied meekly. "I mean, I guess since I play football I'm already good on my feet." Dave wasn't really the type to take compliments well-- especially if it didn't have anything to do with football or academics.

"You should see him on Country Bear Night," the bartender chimed in, having heard the tail-end of their conversation. "He gets the whole crowd going when he's havin' a ball."

Dave blushed and couldn't bring himself to look at Blaine. "Oh, n-no, I just--" he chuckled nervously. "Again, I'm just joshing around and having fun…"

“I believe it, though! He did amazing with our glee club last year.” Blaine shook his head, grinning at Dave, nudging him. “So you like coming to Country Bear Night?” He asked, making a mental note of that.

"Yeah, I guess I do… sometimes," he replied, still a bit bashful with the continued compliments. "There's not a whole lot of dancing I know how to do but I know my way around a line dance-- I have fun with it." Dave's whole thing since getting out of the hospital was really just trying to find all the ways he could be himself and enjoy who he was. Scandals always made him feel at home in his skin and that fact was made even more so on Country Bear Night.

Blaine was glad that Dave was doing so much work to find himself and find where he was comfortable; the fact that it was at Country Bear Night was incredibly endearing. “I’ve never been to Country Bear Night, surprisingly enough. I’ll have to come sometime, you can teach me how to line dance.” He didn’t intend for it to sound flirtatious.

Dave was a little caught off-guard; he’d never been asked to teach anyone anything before. “U-uh, yeah, I can teach you but you’re already so good at dancing… I bet you won’t even need my help,” he replied, though the prospect of running into Blaine again at Scandals sounded like a great time. All they were really doing here was just talking and already Dave was having a great time; he imagined dancing and letting loose would really be a lot of fun. This was turning out to be a promising friendship and Dave didn’t want to do anything to wreck it.

“I will definitely need your help,” Blaine corrected. “You can teach me and I’ll take a new skill back to the New Directions,” he laughed. “They’ll wonder who the heck I am.” Blaine took a sip of his final drink that the bartender had sat in front of him, knowing that he should be cut off around his third or fourth. He let out a content sigh, feeling a lot less heavy than he had when he came into the bar that night. Smiling over at Dave, he reached over to pat him on the arm. “This has been really nice, David. I feel a lot better than I did earlier.”

"Happy to help," Dave replied as he returned the gesture by patting Blaine on the shoulder. "You can always text me when you need to vent or just wanna shoot the shit; I'm usually here at night just to unwind, too, so I'm a decent drinking buddy." He pulled out his mobile phone and composed a quick text message, with Blaine’s phone chiming just a moment later. "There-- now you have my number too. I promise I won’t ghost you again."

Blaine smiled as he looked at his phone, immediately saving Dave’s number. “Thanks,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I promise that I’m not always a downer. Things have just been a bit rough with Kurt because of the whole graduating thing. I’m not really dealing with it well,” he shared, pulling out his wallet to pay for his and Dave’s tab. “But I will definitely take you up on that.” Blaine offered a kind smile to his new friend. He liked how comfortable he felt around Dave, it was easy and he didn’t feel like he needed to be anyone but himself.

Seeing Blaine smile made Dave smile. Although Dave didn't feel like he did much to make Blaine feel better about his problems, he was glad to help in some aspect. "I don't think you're a downer, so don't worry about it. Next time we meet, it'll be to celebrate or have fun-- not to mope or vent." Dave was adamant on making good on that statement. Dave thanked Blaine for the drinks and waved goodbye to him, watching him until the shorter man was completely out of view. One thing he knew for certain: he wasn't going to wait for happenstance to bring them together again.

#blainofsky #blaine anderson #dave karofsky #glee 1x1 #david karofsky #ship: blainofsky #verse: love aint

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aquaquadrant · 5 years ago

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Monster

Day 29: Monster Rating/Warnings: T (minor language, angst, manipulation) Timeline: Canon, between the end of S1 and the beginning of S3 Summary: When the guards throw the kid into Andrew’s cell, he thinks they’re kidding.

A/N: Got another Tangledtober 2018 oneshot for yall, this one finally gave me an opportunity to explore the dynamic between Varian and Andrew! I’ve always thought there was great potential for a compelling story there. (Please note that this isn’t shipping, Varian is just a bi disaster who gets crushes on attractive people) - Aqua

Click here to read on Archive of Our Own

~*~

Monster

When the guards throw the kid into Andrew’s cell, he thinks they’re kidding.

Short and lanky, with a mop of shaggy black hair and freckles framing his pointy nose. Can’t be more than thirteen. Dressed in poor-ish looking clothes; a baggy shirt with a patch on the sleeve, brown pants with frayed edges, and these weird foot wrappings that hardly count as shoes.

“Hey, what’s this about?” Andrew demands, putting his hands on his hips. “If babysitting is your idea of community service, I’m not interested.”

Andrew isn’t spared a glance or a word as the guards stalk back down the dungeon hallway, leaving them alone. The kid gathers himself up, dusting off his knees with an ugly look in his pale blue eyes.

“I’m not a child,” he hisses at Andrew, completely bypassing a hello.

Andrew raises his eyebrows. “They aren’t seriously locking you up here, are they? Isn’t there a junior’s dungeon in this kingdom? Maybe an orphanage with a correctional program?”

That prompts the kid to shove his finger- swathed in a thick black glove- into Andrew’s face. “I’m not an orphan, either!” he insists. This time, there are tears shining in those blue eyes. Angry tears- no, furious. Interesting.

Andrew puts his hands up, taking a step back to lean against the wall. “Alright, alright.” He folds his arms, giving the kid another once over. “Why are you here? I mean, what could a nine-year-old possibly do to get thrown in prison?”

“I’m fourteen,” the kid retorts.

Well, there’s that question answered. Andrew shrugs. “Whatever. Just stay on your side of the cell and don’t bug me.”

Some of the kid’s anger extinguishes as the reality of his situation hits him. His arms slump by his sides, head craning around to look at the cell and its meagre furnishings. Then at Andrew, a wary and calculating gaze. He shifts in place for a moment, uncertain.

Andrew sighs. “Spit it out.”

“Did you murder someone?” the kid asks.

Andrew blinks at him. “What makes you ask that?”

The kid jerks his shoulder in a shrug. “I- I dunno, I mean, you’re a criminal so- so I just wanted to make sure.”

That gets Andrew to laugh. “Scared I’ll murder you in your sleep? Please, obviously they trust me enough, if they’re letting us room together.”

That, or they don’t care enough about the fate of this kid. Tsk, tsk, Corona. They really ought to be more careful.

Frowning, the kid folds his arms- almost mimicking Andrew’s stance. “I guess so.”

“And plus, if you’re here, that means you’re a criminal, too,” Andrew points out- as difficult as it is to accept that notion. “Did you murder someone?”

The kid looks affronted at that. “No! No, no, n- no, I didn’t kill anyone! I didn’t. Even… even if I thought I wanted to, before.” The last part is mumbled as he looks away, rubbing his arm.

Huh. Even more interesting. “Then what’d you do?” Andrew asks, a little more forcefully this time.

The kid flinches. “I, uh. I kidnapped the queen. And attacked the princess. With automatons.”

Andrew doesn’t know what an automaton is, but he definitely recalls the queen’s kidnapping. “Wait, that attack a few days ago, that was you?” he asks incredulously. “The way the guards were running around like headless chickens, I figured it was an invasion from another kingdom! Not… well.” He gestures vaguely at the kid. “You.”

The kid glares at him, but it’s lacking fire. “Yeah, it was me, alright?”

Extremely interesting. But Andrew’s pushed enough for today. “Well, I’ll be damned. Nice job,” he praises. “Always great to see someone stick it to these pathetic Coronans.”

That makes the kid pause, several expressions conflicting across his face, before he settles for shrugging and turning away. “Whatever.”

Andrew backs off as well, stretching out on his bed. Though he’s not thrilled to suddenly be rooming with a teenager, he is quite curious about the little oddball. It’ll be interesting to learn more about how this unassuming kid almost brought Corona to its knees.

After all, the warriors of New Saporia are always recruiting.

~*~

Over the next few days, Andrew keeps his distance from Varian (whose name he only learns from the guards, who grit it out in frustration when they find another refused bowl of food sitting on the kid’s bed).

Varian’s having an incredibly hard time adjusting. He wakes up with nightmares most nights, incoherent crying that Andrew tries his best to ignore. His mood switches rapidly from venomous spite to hopeless sorrow, sometimes in the middle of a sentence. He jumps at everything and picks incessantly at his gloves and hair and clothes. Within days, the collar of his shirt is completely frayed.

Worse is the pacing. To be fair, Andrew’s engaged in a little pacing himself from time to time, to work off excess energy. But it’s almost like Varian’s been tasked with digging a ditch into the floor with nothing but his own feet, with how often he does it. And he’ll mutter sometimes, too. An endless stream of words too low for Andrew to hear other than the occasional snippet; “dad” and “fault” and “promise” are recurring words.

Tonight is one such occasion. It’s getting late, they should go to sleep soon. But Varian’s pacing relentlessly, and this time, he’s not quiet about it.

“I’m gonna go insane,” Varian chatters, raking his hands through his hair. “I’m- I’m- I’m going insane, I can feel it, how are you not insane yet?!”

Andrew’s given up on tuning him out at this point. “Who says I’m not?” he challenges, nonplussed.

Varian lets out a sharp laugh, tinged with hysteria. “You’re right! For all I know, you are insane, and- and you’re just biding your time to strike.”

Andrew hums, amused. “Oh, but then I’d be alone and bored again. Don’t worry, buddy, you’re safe with me.”

That seems to drain some of the manic energy out of Varian. He stops pacing, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I just- I just wish I had something to work on,” he confesses quietly. “Or- or just something to work with. Chalk, a pencil, anything. Thrown in here with nothing but four walls makes me feel like- like some kind of, uh-”

“Animal?” Andrew guesses with a raised eyebrow. He’s grown accustomed to the feeling, himself.

Varian swallows. “Monster,” he breathes shakily. “I- I feel like a monster.”

Andrew sits up. “Hey now, you’re not a monster.”

“Aren’t I?” Varian asks helplessly. “I tricked the princess into helping me commit treason. When that wasn’t enough, I attacked the town with a mutant raccoon and kidnapped the queen. I threatened her life to get what I wanted, and when it didn’t work, I almost killed them for no other reason than that I wanted to.” His voice breaks. “I wanted to hurt them.”

Andrew doesn’t have time to unpack all that. “You didn’t, though,” he says plainly.

“Not by choice,” Varian says, wiping at his eyes in frustration. His breathing hitches. “I was st- stopped. Sometimes I wonder if- if I hadn’t been, what might’ve…”

Andrew shushes him, crossing over to put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, no use in thinking about the what-if’s, okay? I’m sure you had every reason to do the things you did.” He says the words not unkindly, which is a feat on his part because he’s really getting tired of the kid’s moodiness.

Varian sniffles a little, brows furrowing as a hard look comes back into his eyes. “I did,” he murmurs. “I didn’t have any choice. It was their fault.”

“Of course,” Andrew soothes. “Don’t get all worked up, alright? Go lay down and get some rest, you’ll feel better.”

Blessedly, Varian nods and goes to lay down, tucking his legs to his chest with his back to Andrew. Thank god. Maybe he’ll finally get some peace and quiet tonight.

That settled, Andrew sits back down. He doesn’t really care about Varian’s wellbeing either way, but it’s sure a lot more inconvenient for him when the kid is ranting and pacing like a madman. He’ll have to do something to rectify that.

And he knows just the thing. Furnishings are scarce in this prison, but on occasion, inmates can be rewarded with personal items for good behavior. And, all things considered, Andrew’s been really damn good. So he mentally prepares his request, with the intent to pass it on the next time guards come to bring their food.

After sticking him with this gangly thorn in his side, it’s really the least they can do.

~*~

The package comes in a small cloth pouch, tucked under Andrew’s bowl.

He grins obligingly at the guard, who rolls his eyes and moves on. Andrew sneaks a look at Varian, who’s resolved to refuse dinner tonight for whatever reason and is facing the back wall. Andrew sits cross-legged on his bed, setting the food down in favor of opening the pouch.

Inside are a few sticks of white chalk. Nothing fancy, really, but they’ll do wonderfully.

“Hey, Varian, dinner’s here,” Andrew calls.

“Not hungry,” comes Varian’s stubborn reply.

Andrew allows himself to roll his eyes, fishing a piece of chalk out of the bag. “You sure? There’s something special with it tonight.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Varian turns around. “What is it?”

Andrew tosses the chalk at Varian. “Here.”

Varian catches it in surprise. “What?” He turns the chalk over in his hands, white powder smearing on black gloves as his brows furrow and then raise. “This- this is for me?”

“Yeah.” Andrew leans back against the wall, resting his arms behind his head. “Go ahead, draw me something.”

Varian stares at him for a moment with wide eyes, as if disbelieving. A faint blush colors his cheeks, softening the gaunt paleness that’s taken residence there in the past few weeks. He lets out a breath that might be a laugh, if only by the shy smile his mouth curls into as he does it. Then he turns around, hopping onto his bed to better reach the top of the wall as he touches chalk to stone.

Andrew’s not sure what he’s expecting. But blueprints for some kind of giant humanoid machine are not it. Even to Andrew’s untrained eye, it’s an incredibly complex machine, like nothing he’s ever seen before.

Varian steps back, a critical gaze sweeping over his creation before he takes a breath and turns to Andrew.

“These are the automatons I used,” he explains. “For uh, you know.” There’s only the faintest shadow in his eyes before he hastily moves on. “They were originally created to defend the underground tunnels of Corona. I scavenged the majority of them but was able to reverse engineer their construction and make my own upgraded model. The originals are powered by wind-up turnstiles, if you can believe it, but I made mine run off a prototype steam engine.” He catches his breath, looking at Andrew hopefully. “What- what do you think?”

Andrew has to give it to him; he’s seriously impressed. Not only did the kid learn how those machines work, he was able to successfully modify them and even memorize the schematics. Andrew feels like he’s seeing Varian for the first time. Seeing the true nature of this troubled kid, the brilliance that was hiding behind all his vitriol.

“What do I think? That’s awesome, pal!” Andrew lets amazement show clearly on his face. “What else did you use?”

As expected, Varian’s face lights up. There’s that small blush again as he quickly erases the blueprints and starts drawing up chemical formulas, rambling about goo traps and sleeping powder as he goes.

Andrew’s interest is only half faked; he’s suddenly quite invested in what Varian has to say, but not for the reason Varian thinks. Rather than an annoyance, Varian now presents quite the opportunity for Andrew. He has a lot of use for someone with skills like Varian’s. Dozens of plans are already running through his head, each more devious and clever than the last.

And it won’t be hard to win Varian over. Andrew doesn’t know the full story, but he knows Varian is a kid against the world, a kid who lost everything and everyone. As remorseful as he might seem at times, there’s still a fiery anger inside him. Andrew just needs to act quick enough, before it all burns out.

Is Varian a monster? No, not really. But he’s unbalanced, vengeful, and wicked smart. He’s also lost, hurting, and desperate to prove himself.

And Andrew doesn’t care if it makes him a monster to take advantage of it.

~*~

#tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta #varian #my writing

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jovialjudgebonkalmond · 5 years ago

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Inevitable, Ch 2

Once again, obvious disclaimer, I don’t own the characters or universe in which the story takes place - yes internet I am that old, thank you.

Summary: Monty is alive, in jail. A recounting of his experiences and memories and basically all those flashbacks we weren’t given in season 4 that I am butthurt about. It is AU in the sense that he is still alive whilst Clay & Co are attempting to frame him for Bryce’s murder. Obvious spoiler alerts if you haven’t seen season 4.

Pairings will be Monty x Winston mainly. So far this is all from Monty’s POV but that may change down the line.

Warnings include violence, sex, drug use, rape, murder, and basically everything graphic and bad you can imagine. Will absolutely contain smut. Oh, and swearing. This chapter has the added benefit of mention’s of suicide (but given the show’s content I’m sure you saw this coming?), and also domestic abuse/child abuse. Oh and homophobic slurs.

Obligatory reminder: This is from Monty’s point of view. Clearly he didn’t view his actions with the totality of how devastatingly monsterous they were. I condemn his actions, he’s a rapist and deserved jail time. As we saw in s3 and in snippets of s4 he didn’t share that point of view. I think Monty is a dynamic character that’s interesting and I relate a lot to his back story. That’s why I was motivated to write this.

Ch 2 word count: 5,554 words (sorry not sorry guys)

Monty braced his hands on the edges of the tiny stainless steel sink, squinting as he gazed into the grimy sheet of metal bolted to the wall that was supposed to function as a mirror. He could see a blur of his skin, and the orange of his shirt...and that was it. His face was throbbing and he couldn't eat his breakfast. "Fuck." He muttered to himself, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He held his breath, his aching ribs adding to the cacophony of pain of his head and hand. His hand was swollen across his knuckles and stiff, the muscles in his right arm trembling just with the effort of hanging on to the sink. He reached up with his left hand and ran it over his jaw. It, too, was swollen. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, gripping his molars with his fingers and placing his thumbs at the base of his jaw. His body shuddered and his stomach growled loudly.

I know, we're gonna fix this.

He jerked his jaw down, over, and then up in a swift, fluid motion. It made a sickeningly loud pop and Monty held back a retch, his body going from hot to cold as he felt his adrenaline pounding through his veins uncontrolled. He took a few choking, deep breaths and began to pace in a small circle, breathing hard through his nose. He dropped to the floor gracefully into a plank position as he had a thousand times for football drills, braced himself on his hands while his broken knuckles screamed at him. He lowered himself to the floor and sucked in a deep breath, his nose almost grazing the concrete. He exhaled and pushed up, hearing his ribs crack loudly as they shifted. They felt wrong inside of him, like they didn't fit where they belonged and it made it hard to breathe. He inhaled and lowered himself again, pushing through the pain. He felt powerless. He carried on, not counting reps as he picked up a smooth and even pace. He was lost inside himself, no concept of time passing. There were no clocks, save for the one on the microwave in the common room and he wasn't there right now.

"Your mother, she hasn't stopped crying since they pick you up." His father stated with a heavy accent.He felt a pang of shame in his chest and closed his eyes for a moment, the shackles hanging like a dead weight off his wrists. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling suddenly dry and tight.

"I'm sorry." he said thickly, his back stiff. His fear felt alive inside of him, like it had a mind of its own. He avoided eye contact with his father. He could feel the rage radiating off of him and he felt the all too familiar dread sinking in.

"I bust my ass for this family, and this is what you do?" His father continued, leaning forward. Monty hazarded a glance at him from the corner of his eye, not daring to breathe. He blinked, feeling his mind beginning to reel.

"Answer me!"

Monty jumped and blinked again, feeling stupid and cornered. His heart was racing.

"What? What answer do you want?" He hated hearing the sound of his own desperation in his voice, the way it broke at the end.

"Is it true? What they're saying?"

Monty felt his body stiffen even more, if that was at all possible. He tried to shrug it off, blinking again.

"What are- what are they saying?" He stammered. It felt as though there was a fist clamped around his throat.

"You damn well know."

Monty stared straight ahead of him, feeling the all too familiar sensation of his blood pounding in his ears and through his veins. He clenched his jaw and stayed silent.

"They're saying that you assaulted a kid. That you sexually assaulted a kid. A boy! That true?" He couldn't help but notice the tone his father's voice took on at the word 'boy'.

"It wasn't sexual assault. I was just...messin' with him." Monty said, shifting his shoulders as though his shuffling could make his actions go away, like an irritating fly tickling his skin.

"You were messing with him?" His dad blinked, his eyes darkening, "The way they said? Why would you do that shit? To a boy? Are you some kind of faggot?!" The disgust in his voice was palpable, but it wasn't the fact that he was being charged with sexual assault that disgusted him so, that much was glaringly clear.

Monty's body felt hot all over, his eyes beginning to well with tears. He clenched his jaw again and stole his resolve.

"What if I was dad? What if I was?" He locked his gaze on his father's dark, furious eyes. The rage and contempt the look he was met with took his breath away.

"You're going to prison. You know what they do to guys like you in there?" He scanned him up and down quickly, as though sizing him up.

"And what do they do? Describe it." He mumbled defiantly, squaring his chin.

"You're going to get beat to shit. At the minimum. They will beat you down."

Monty leaned back, unable to stop himself. What the fuck did it matter now anyway.

"Yeah, well, at least none of them will be my dad."

He could see the storm in his father's eyes, and he was suddenly grateful he was in jail. The chair scraped on the concrete as his dad stood, towering over him with the blackest eyes he had ever seen. Mr. de la Cruz was staring at him as though he had known it all along.

"Are you a faggot?" He asked, with a tone that suggested he already had the answer.

Fuck it, he thought, and fuck you.

He looked up and locked eyes with the man whom he had feared, loathed, worshiped... his whole life.

"Sure."

The moment could have lasted an eternity. His father stared at him in disgusted silence before spitting in his face and walking out, leaving him sitting there alone in his shackles. It hurt more than a fist. He closed his eyes, feeling as though his heart was shattering in his chest. The spit was hot and sticky, burning his left eye it landed on. He clenched his jaw again, his eyebrows furrowing as he fought back his tears. He tried to wipe the spit off of his face but his shackles stopped him from being able to reach. He rubbed the side of his face on his shoulder as though he could wipe away his shame with it, his breathing ragged.

"Hey inmate."

Monty jumped, the voice knocking him back to reality. He stood carefully, his body aching at his lack of forgiveness to it, and looked at the C.O.

"Yes sir?"

"You have an appointment with your lawyer. Come on."

He blinked slowly, following the guard out of his cell. I don't have a lawyer..?

The guard marched him to a set of doors where he was pat down and shackled once more. They took him down a hallway he had never been down before, the shackles making his strides short and awkward, forcing him to hunch forward. It made him look small. The hall had rooms with windows that opened to the hallway. The guard opened one of the doors and Monty followed him inside.

There was a woman sitting at a large table with several file folders. Her black hair was up in a bun and she was wearing a pantsuit with a blouse. It was jarring, seeing someone outside of uniform or the orange jumpsuit. He shuffled toward the table and she glanced up at him, surveying him quietly with blue eyes he couldn't read. He sat down across from her and tried to shuffle his chair closer to the table with little success.

The guard stepped in and closed the door. The woman turned her attention from him to the guard.

"You can wait outside." She dismissed him. He looked as though he was going to argue with her but then thought better of it and left. Monty could see him watching them through the glass.

"Hello Mr. de la Cruz." She said, opening one of the files and glancing at it before looking back at him. "I am Eva Guerrero. I am a defense attorney and I work for a non-profit organization, and we were forwarded your case and I am here to offer you legal representation for your trial, if you choose to have one. I have spent some time reviewing your case and I have a few thoughts, and a few questions."

Monty sat there, staring at her for awhile. He blinked while he waited for his brain to catch up. It didn't.

"Okay." He said curtly, instantly on the defensive.

"You presently have two charges filed against you. That is correct? The sexual assault of Tyler Down and the murder of Bryce Walker..?"

Monty stood in the dim light of his bedroom, one of the bulbs in the ceiling was burnt out. It cast long shadows up the dark beige walls. It made the hole he punched in his white door look cavernous. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, his breathing steady and calm...resolute. Tears trickled silently down his face, pooling on the wooden surface of his dresser. They slipped off the chips and dings in the surface and flowed off of the edge. His arm trembled as it held the cold steel of the gun, pressing into the side of his temple. His finger curled around the trigger, his other hand pressed on the top of the dresser to brace himself. There was only one bullet in the chamber, but he only needed one.

"Where are you, you son of a bitch!" His father roared, bursting into the room and yanking him from his thoughts. His blood pounded in his ears and he rounded on the taller man, not even feeling human anymore.

"You wanna go old man?!" Monty yelled, taking the gun away from his own face and leveling it at the chest of his father, finger still poised on the trigger. The man staggered back, clearly intoxicated. His face flashed shock for a moment before he began to laugh, contempt replacing his former fearful expression as though it had never existed. Monty's heart was hammering in his chest like it was going to explode. His body was moving outside of his control, his desperation having a mind of its own and an appetite for destruction.

"You going to shoot me?" The older man laughed again and muttered derisively in Spanish before closing the space between them, leaning into the gun. "Do it then. You're the man now."

Monty locked eyes with his monster, his boogeyman, and felt his resolve begin to crumble just as he always crumbled under his father's fists and rage. He lowered the gun and made to shove passed him to get through the door but his dad grabbed him roughly around his abdomen and chucked him into it. He heard it crack under his weight and his lungs strained as the wind was knocked out of him. He choked and gasped for a moment, in a heap on the ground still holding the gun.

"You're just a coward." His dad hissed, booting him hard in the ribs. He hated himself for not being able to hold back his whimper at the pain. "Were you fucking crying? Crying like a lady-boy? Like a faggot?!"

He sucked in a ragged breath and dragged himself to his feet, running haphazardly through the hallway. He needed to get the fuck out of here before this ended in regret. His dad pursued him, hot on his tail, stopping momentarily to grab a bottle of liquor off of the counter.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going you little shit?!"

"I'm getting the fuck out of here!" Monty yelled, opening the front door. His dad grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him backwards, slamming him against the wall and backhanded him. He tasted blood. He shoved his dad as hard as he could, away from him and ran out the door without looking back. His dad staggered drunkenly and fell over. It didn't stop him for long, just slowed him down momentarily, Monty heard his drunken shuffling footsteps chasing him out the door.

"Come back here you coward!" He yelled, chucking the bottle at Monty. It shattered beside his feet and he stepped on the glass. It crunched under the soles of his shoes, gritty on the gravel driveway. The alcohol splashed up his pants, staining and stinking. He fumbled for his keys, hands shaking and jerking as adrenaline sent his nerves haywire. He popped the safety back on the gun and tossed it in the back storage compartment. He started the Jeep and threw it in reverse, slamming his foot on the gas and gunning it down the driveway. His tires screeched shrilly on the pavement and the SUV lurched with his sudden movements.

He put the Jeep into drive and stomped on the gas, not knowing where he was going. There was nothing but the sound of his engine, the tires rumbling on the pavement noisily and his suspension rattling every so often as he went over a bump or pothole in the road. And his seemingly-endless-blood pounding in his ears-level rage. His vision blurred with tears, the road and lights melted blurs whipping passed him with no recognition. He sobbed, unable to catch his breath. His chest felt empty, like a gaping wound raw and shredded on the edges. Minutes turned into hours and became nothing. Eventually he had no energy left to sob, no tears left to cry.

He eased off of the gas pedal and soaked in the emptiness that consumed him. The air around him was cold and light, the stars dancing above him and the moon hung over it all like a fucking spotlight for his shit show.

He slowed and stopped, realizing he recognized the house he was in front of. His heart skipped a beat. He shouldn't be here. He put the Jeep in park and pushed the door open, stepping out of the vehicle. He left the door open as he walked ponderously along the curb. The house was like a mansion, towering on top of a small expensively landscaped hill. With a huge, wall-like cement fence with wrought iron details on top. Four pillars boarded each edge of the horse-shoe shaped driveway, one of those fancy ones that you can drive in and out of in a half circle. The pillars had lamps on top made out of matching wrought iron that bathed him in golden light, like a caricature of an angel.

He didn't belong here.

He stood at the mouth of the driveway, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He sighed, turning to go when he saw a figure approaching him. The tall, slender, dark haired young man stepped into the light. His dark, brown eyes were muddied with confusion. He wore a light coat thrown over a grey cable knit sweater and olive coloured slacks, lacking his usual carefully chosen attire. It was evident he just threw it on in a hurry to run outside. His heavy brows furrowed, his expression flipping rapidly from confusion to concern.

"Monty- what are you doing here? My parents are actually home...you probably don't want to- why are you bleeding? Are you ok?!" He stumbled his words in a rush.

Monty stood there with his arms limp at his side for a few moments, trying to feel anything other than the brokenness that consumed him. He knew the desperation showed on his face like an open book and he loathed himself for it. He could never hide it, not in front of Winston. The other boy had a way of running his fingers over his spine and cracking him open like a dam waiting to flood the world. And tonight, he was nothing if not an open wound.

"Monty?!" Winston insisted, taking another step towards him.

"Bryce is dead." He said hollowly.

Winston blinked, glancing back to the house and then back to Monty. He closed the space between them, Monty's heart leaping into his throat. Winston took his hand and ran his fingers over his knuckles and palm with an aching tenderness.

"Okay, let's get out of here then." He said calmly. Damn him. Winston gave his hand a gentle squeeze and tilted his face to lock his warm eyes with Monty's avoidant gaze. Monty looked back at him knowing he wasn't able to hide his pain behind his mask anymore. He returned the gentle squeeze before walking back to the Jeep and climbing in, his heart racing once more. Winston climbed in the passenger seat, doing a double take at the gun in the back.

"Is that a gun?! What are you doing with a gun?! How did you even get a gun?!?!"

Monty clenched his jaw, starting the Jeep with a stuttering rumble. It was an old Jeep, and its age was showing. Monty couldn't help but feel uncomfortable having the boy who was used to so much luxury in his piece of shit SUV.

Although if Winston had any opinions, he kept them to himself. Monty glanced at the gun in the corner of his eye, barely tilting his face before looking at Winston for a moment and putting the vehicle in drive.

"It was a gift." He muttered, nonchalantly. Winston looked taken aback but didn't ask anymore questions as Monty drove off. Monty turned up the music, indicating he didn't want to talk anymore. Winston reached over and held Monty's hand that was resting in his lap. Monty didn't fight it or pull away, allowing the other boy to gently stroke his fingers. He felt the pounding rage and anxiety, poised for the attack, slowly recede under Winston's unfairly soft touch.

"They found him in the water...by the docks." Monty said thickly, the dam threatening to break again. "They say he was shot...he was murdered."

"Murdered?! Holy fuck..." Winston gasped, sucking in a quick breath. It was clear he was rattled. "Who would do that?"

"Oh I think I know." Monty said, a clearly menacing tone to his voice. "Cops hauled me in for questioning. Cuffed me and chucked my ass in the back seat and everything. What a fucking show."

Winston looked taken aback.

"But Bryce was your friend?! Why would they think you killed him?!" Winston asked, despite the gun sitting in the back of the Jeep like a verifiable elephant in the room.

"We had a fight before he was killed." Monty grumbled, stepping on the gas a little. "He was killed homecoming night."

Winston took a deep breath, surveying Monty carefully.

"While you were with me?"

"If I was fuckin' there he wouldn't be fuckin' dead right now!" Monty yelled. "I should have been there. I could have stopped it. Someone beat the shit out of him and shot him and threw him in the fuckin' water and I was off getting laid!"

Winston stayed silent for a few moments, gazing at the scenery as it whipped by. If his outburst or speeding bothered him, Monty couldn't tell. He seemed surprisingly unruffled by his rage. After more time passed Monty's resolve and anger subsided, having nothing to feed off of. He took a deep, tremulous breath.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, "I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault I wasn't there for him. It's mine-"

"Monty, don't blame yourself for this either." Winston cut him off. "There was nothing you could have done. You couldn't have known that would have happened and if you had tried to stop it they very likely would have killed you too. It would have taken someone incredibly dangerous to have done this. I didn't know Bryce very well, but he wouldn't have gone down without a fight."

Monty flinched, gripping the steering wheel tightly with one hand and his other hand trembled in Winston's. He drew in a shivering breath and shook his head, his brows furrowing deeply.

"If I had died too so be it. I should have been there, protecting him. I always protected him... he died alone."

His lip quivered as his eyes welled with tears once more. He wanted to punch himself in his own god damned face. He blinked rapidly, pushing his emotions back down and swallowed hard, flipping his turn signal on.

"That's not a road?" Winston said in confusion.

"That's the point." Monty said, his words catching when the Jeep thumped in and out of a rut jerking both boys around inside.

"I've never done this before." Winston said with a small laugh, "Gone off roading."

"What?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" Monty shook his head, putting the Jeep into 4x4 and glancing at the other boy. "Rich kids." He muttered incredulously. Winston shrugged and flopped around, his shoulder bumping into Monty's as the Jeep thrashed from side to side over the uneven ground. He laughed helplessly, shaking his head. He was knocked backwards as the SUV lurched upwards and then once again bumped into Monty and then the side of the door as it landed roughly, the suspension audibly creaking.

"Jesus can this thing even handle this?!" Winston wondered.

"It was built for this." Monty chuckled, easily matching his body's movements with the jerking of the Jeep, "How about you, pretty boy, can you handle it?" He almost purred, quirking an eyebrow teasingly. Winston shot him a half exasperated dirty look and shifted his weight surreptitiously and then he smirked, meeting the other boy's challenge.

"I think we both know I like being tossed around a little."

Monty responded by gunning the SUV over a ditch in the dirt road, and Winston grabbed the handle over his head to maintain his balance and ride out the bucking of the vehicle. The two shared a look and Monty grinned devilishly. He pressed the accelerator down slowly and evenly, the Jeep's tires kicking up sand that billowed around them like an angry cloud. He adjusted the steering wheel and pulled the SUV into a tight turn, the force tossing Winston to one side as he held the tires in a rotation. He sped up as the Jeep spun in a circle, the sand flying around them like debris in an explosion. The lights of the city and the moon over the ocean melted together, becoming a ribbon of colours swirling dizzyingly around them.

Monty wasn't watching where the Jeep was going, he didn't have to. He had perfect control of the vehicle's movements, he had done this countless times with the guys. He was watching Winston, couldn't take his eyes off of him if he had even tried. He watched the way his chest moved when he breathed, the way his expressions changed and the way his eyes were just so damned alive. Monty loved the way he would laugh or yelp, and knew exactly how to get each reaction. The thrill of it made his face feel flushed, his blood pounding for an altogether different reason. He bit his lip and closed his eyes for a moment before pulling the Jeep out of the doughnut turn and slamming on the brakes. Winston let out a little shriek as he was once again tossed from side to side, and then also back and forth with his long legs tangling like a clumsy giraffe.

"If I knew it was that easy to make you scream I would have done this a long time ago." Monty laughed, cutting the engine and smirking at Winston, his heart fluttering in his chest. Winston glanced at him through the dark lengths of his eyelashes and moistened his lips. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was a little ragged after being thrashed around like a rag-doll mercilessly for the last god-only-knows how long.

"I could think of a few other ways you could make me scream." He said breathily.

Monty yanked his seat belt off and practically dove at him, his hands grabbing the other boy's wavy hair as their lips crashed together. Monty had one leg on his centre console, the other was in between Winston's legs. Winston's fingertips dug into his back as he kissed back, his bruising lips meeting Monty's furious hunger with a relishing eagerness. Monty kissed him and pawed at him like he wanted to devour him and Winston's hands flew to his pants and popped the button with ease and unzipped them, running his hand over the other boy's obvious erection. He wanted to be devoured, consumed, destroyed. Monty gasped and made a soft, strangled sound as he broke their kiss.

"Fucking hell." He hissed grinding his hips into Winston's hand, "I want you." he added, his voice catching. And I shouldn't, he thought, I can't... this is going to be the death of me.

Winston laughed lowly, continuing to run his hand up and down Monty's rock hard length. He kissed him again, biting his bottom lip lightly as he pulled away.

"Take me home." He said flatly, his hand still rubbing Monty's achingly hard cock.

Monty blinked rapidly, his train of thought thrashing around not unlike Winston was being thrashed around moments ago.

"W...what?" He stuttered, gasping quietly and suppressing a moan with limited success.

"Take me home, Montgomery," Winston said, staring into Monty's eyes as he massaged his balls, "And fuck me properly."

"I don't think I can drive like this." Monty groaned as Winston's hand slipped away, tucking his throbbing cock back into his pants and zipping them back up with some difficulty.

"You're going to." Winston smirked, kissing him deeply and then pushing him away as he adjusted his own bulge in his pants.

Monty swallowed and looked at the lawyer before him. He had declined the legal aide appointed by the court, and he had assumed it was left at that. That he'd be deemed guilty and just rot or die where he fucking belonged.

"I didn't kill Bryce." He said coldly.

"I am aware. We've been contacted by someone who has compelling evidence for your innocence."

"Charlie?" Monty asked, meeting her eyes carefully. He already knew the answer to that question he realized with sickening dread.

"No, Charlie went to the police shortly after you were apprehended and confessed to lying to them to cover for you and that he had no idea of your true whereabouts that night. A boy named Winston Williams... contacted us seeking legal aide on your behalf," The lawyer said, reaching for one of the folders. "He can place you at his house at the time of the murder. He said you made some texts and the cell phone towers would be able to confirm your location which would be quite far from the location where Bryce was killed. He also has an article of your clothing that would possibly be useful, if people can confirm you wore it that night and haven't since."

Monty swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, willing his face to remain stagnant and leaned back, shaking his head. The betrayal by Charlie stung like the weight of a sword to the hilt of his spine. And then there was the Winston of it all.

"He just doesn't fucking give up, does he?" He muttered with an agonized hitch in his voice despite his best efforts.

"I mean, if I knew someone was innocent of a crime, I would want to speak out."

"Did he tell you I beat the shit out of him the night we met and I called him a fucking faggot?" Monty lashed out, he would have crossed his arms but his shackles prevented him from doing it so he just squared his shoulders and jaw and stared coldly at the woman in front of him who only wanted to help him. But he didn't want her fucking help, or Winston's for that matter.

The woman held his gaze, completely unfazed by his demeanor.

"He did, in fact, tell me that." She said with a quirked eyebrow. Monty was taken aback but tried to do his best not to let that show.

"So why the fuck would he want to help me." He said hollowly. The lawyer shrugged.

"Does that really matter? You're looking at life in jail or worse, right now with these charges."

"Maybe I fuckin' deserve it." Monty said, tilting his head challengingly.

"Maybe you do." She agreed calmly. "But I don't think you do. I think that's an easy way out. I think you're fucking giving up, throwing it away because its easier than facing the person you are and the problems you have. Its easier than admitting your life isn't going where you wanted it to, and that you regret the things you've done."

She tossed a file in his direction.

"I think life has been unreasonably hard on you, Montgomery, and I think the people and systems that were supposed to protect you and keep you safe didn't. I think you had a violent upbringing, and that you survived for a long time by yourself. I think the fact that you'd rather go to jail for a crime you didn't commit than willingly admit out loud that you spent the night with a boy who's only crime was maybe to love you enough to want to save you is cowardly. I think you feel like you don't deserve his concern, or his love for that matter, so you're running scared from that too. I think you've been scared for your whole life. And I think its time you fucking let that go. Because the people who've helped you become the young man standing before me would love to see you sitting here wallowing in your self pity. They'd love to see you disappear like another fucking statistic. I would like to think that someone who has survived as long as you have, someone who's fought as hard as you have would take all that anger and tell them to fuck themselves and build a real life for himself, and be fucking happy to spite them, in spite of them."

Monty felt his pulse tick in his neck and looked away before fixing her with a glare. That hit a nerve.

"I think you fucking think too much." He snarked, and smirked with a cocky lift of his eyebrow. "What would you know about it anyway."

She smiled calmly, and met his arrogance with her own ego.

"I had a bad childhood." She said flatly, not knowing she was using his own words against him, "I did eight years in federal for armed carjacking."

Monty sat there numbly, dumbfounded for a moment.

"And they let you be a lawyer?" He asked incredulously, "That explains a lot..."

"It wasn't easy, Montgomery, it took me almost twelve years after my sentence to even begin rebuilding my life. They said I would never amount to more than my crime. But I fucking did it and they can suck my dick." She began to collect the folders he hadn't even looked at yet, leaving one in front of him as she stood up.

"You're a lawyer, you're not supposed to talk like that." He mumbled, feeling panic flutter in his chest as his lifeline was packing up and leaving and it was all his own fault for pushing her away.

"Not in front of a judge anyway." She countered, snapping her briefcase shut.

"Think about what I said. I won't close your case yet, but don't waste anymore of my fucking time. Keep that, and read it." She warned as she walked away. She opened the door where the guard was waiting and he heard the sound of his boots as he came to fetch him.

His mind was reeling, spinning out of control as he shuffled behind the C.O. awkwardly holding his file.

"You have some mail." The C.O. said offhandedly. Monty blinked, wondering what it was. Was it a court summons? Was it Winston? Was it his family..? They stopped at the doors and the man uncuffed him around the wrists and ankles.

He handed Monty the letter, his expression unreadable.

"It came in awhile ago...but sometimes things here get lost on purpose."

"Why are you being nice to me?" Monty asked, suspicious as he took the letter.

"You're a human being. And I'd like to believe we can help people in here... sometimes."

"You must be new." Monty sighed. He walked back to his cell without a backwards glance. None of the other three inmates he shared a cell had returned yet, they must be at lunch. Monty's stomach growled insistently but he ripped open the letter instead, wanting the privacy to absorb the blow that was about to come. The paper was a file printed from the jails website, someone was requesting the right to visit him and it required his approval or denial.

Charles St. George.

#montgomery de la cruz #monty de la cruz #monty x winston #winston x monty #winston williams #13rw fanfiction #13rw #wonty

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argylemikewheeler · 5 years ago

Note

wait what do you think wills powers are

I have a lot of different ideas from all my different fics over the season, but I think, in terms of the show, I’d like to see more of what we saw in s3, but with precision. I’d like to think now that we have demogorgons back (like we saw in s1) we have will being able to feel/track them (rather than people like el) and just being their Man on the Inside to the whole thing. Because I really think the fact he was able to communicate so clearly from the upside down in s1 has gone really under-utilized and his possession has been pointed to a lot. Which is good! I’m glad they didn’t forget, but that boy has some “one foot here, one foot in the “grave” upside down” kind of energy.

I’d like to see while he’s coming of age/hitting puberty and feeling ~weird~ about himself and his newfound sexuality (that is NOT like his friends’...) he’s also figuring out new things about himself in terms of powers... Joyce thinks he’s hiding in his room because he’s upset about a bad zit or something, but really Will accidentally Flipped Himself Upside Down on command and his nose won’t stop bleeding.

#will byers has powers #asks #Anonymous

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spyrkle4 · 4 years ago

Photo

Night Pride redesigns! For context: Night Pride is the name of the Tree of Life protectors from The Lion Guard S3 And their og designs… kinda don’t click for me. Not like I hate their og designs, (the dozen ear details are a lil’ weird) and it’s cool to like their og designs. But I gave them redesigns! You might like them, or not. but these are my interesting takes And in this house we pretend the Night Pride symbol does not exist. Like the Lion Guard symbol is understandable at a few levels, the Night Pride symbol tho? no. Also sidenote… why do we only see the royal fam? Could we at least get some few lions in the bg, or other non-lions as Night Pride members? Hello? I am confusion. …and yes this a screenshot redraw don’t @ me (More detail under desc)

Nirmala: -Kind of hc she’s got blood from the Outsider pride, so line through nose, ear stripes, spots under eyes, head stripe, the works! -Adjusted hair stripe -Pelt more reddish -Uncolored paws -Since a lot of people hc she’s married into the Night Pride royal fam I tried making that more obvious in her appearance bc her og design looks too Night Pride for her to be someone that joined -dark nose gradient, since her stripe used to extend to her nose it’s a little call back. Surak: -Loses ear rims but has ear stripes still, they’re thicker though than Nirmala’s -Bunch of nasty scars, I’ll talk about the one on his eye later when I get to Rani, but as defenders from all sorts of nasty predators they all have some scars. -Same stripe as Rani does. -Dark nose gradient -Mane has two dif colors bc Asiatic lions, the lions I think the Night Pride are based off of (mane behind ear rims) have different colors, and it makes his fluffy mane pop a bit more -His pelt is more darker in color, makes him very scary but Surak is just a soft gentle giant, at least to his family. Rani: -Has her grandma’s eyes. I kind of went for “Scar but not Scar” look-ish… y’know bc of her plotline with Kion  (sidenote their romance feels rushed I’d prefer if they just were good friends. but y’know… we can’t have boy/girl friendships anymore) -The “mysterious scar” is on her shoulder this time, due to the hc I have that the incident that killed Rani and Baliyo’s parents was a fire. Rani and Surak have burn scars as reminders, Surak’s is much worse bc he saved Rani from inside the tree. -Same eye rim shape like her Uncle, but darker to make the eyes pop out more -Light nose gradient -Adjusted ear rims and color -tail tuft same as Surak and Baliyo, runs in the family! -Hair tuft, wild hair runs in the family as well -No spots on legs Baliyo:

-Still no whiskers, I hc Baliyo as trans, thanks to Tree of Life magic he’s able to grow a mane but it’s slow… and it might not be a full mane but he likes any mane in general -Eye color matches Surak. I love blue-eyed Baliyo but it made him look more related to Nirmala, and golden-eyed Baliyo is a hot take -Adjusted ear rims, he has a few notches tho -Tried toning down his head tuft a tad-ski. -His pelt is a less reddish version of Rani’s. Adjusted spots tho so he only has the ones on his leg

#the lion guard #the lion king #the night pride #tlg rani #tlg baliyo #tlg surak #tlg nirmala #Sparky's art

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panharmonium · 4 years ago

Text

some disjointed thoughts about stranger things 2 under the cut (concealed to hide spoilers from my sister)

so, season 2!

i’ve gone into every season of this show knowing absolutely nothing about it. i’ve had no exposure to the fandom or to reviews or anything that would indicate what it was about or how good the seasons are in relation to each other, which i like, because i know my opinions are my own. season 1 i watched back in the winter, i think, and it was amazing. blew me away.

i just finished season 2 and i’m like...not as into it?

and i’m glad i had no preexposure to anything, because if i had, i’d worry that i was just being influenced by other people’s opinions, but i genuinely don’t know what people think of the various seasons. i’ve been stringently avoiding anything about this show, have it blocked on tumblr, etc, so i could watch it cold.

i’d have to watch it again to really pin down the places where my investment was flagging, and i’ll probably do that eventually, because i know my roommate will want to see it, but my general impression was this: they had me hooked in the beginning, and then they started to lose me.

- i feel like overall it was 9 episodes where very little substance actually happened. plotlines were stretched out over a reallllllly long period of time and became paper-thin. like nancy and jonathan? the only thing they really did over those entire nine episodes was make a tape recording and send it to the paper. that was their whole story, and it could have fit in one episode.

- and what did happen felt like it suffered from a lack of focus. can i explain this in more detail without watching the show again? not really. but i just mean that in S1, i could tell you what each of the main character’s arcs were, and i could lay out how those arcs had clear beginnings, middles, and endings. in S2, i can really only do that for El (and even that i feel like got messy by the last third).

- the horror vibe was different this season. it was LESS scary, to me. S1 was a CREEP factor that had my skin crawling - it wasn’t like...creature horror - it was the unsettlingness. the whole parallel world thing was so - well, the only word for it is unsettling, like. you felt like you could take a step and accidentally wind up somewhere no one should be - the idea that you can be trapped so close to somebody and yet so far away - you just felt like the world was inside out (or upside down, if you will). and so much of the fear in the first one came from how incomprehensible and uncertain the entire situation was - you didn’t know how things worked and nobody believed you when you tried to tell them what was happening. that scene where the christmas lights spell out R-U-N? scariest fucking thing i’ve ever seen. but S2 changed it to be like...it felt like more of a monster flick. like a zombie movie or something - lots of creatures running around that you can just shoot with a gun - that’s just not really the same vibe as the first season, and i didn’t find it quite as interesting.

- i don’t want to be That Person, because i liked maxine as a character in general, on her own terms, but from a writing perspective - what even was the purpose of her introduction? her and her brother both, honestly, the whole family. i feel almost bad for saying that, because i can guarantee that there were people out there complaining about her being introduced because “they just wanted to have another girl; it’s so stupid, blah blah,” cue more sexist stuff, etc, and that’s really not where i’m coming from, but for me, from a general storytelling perspective, i don’t understand why she or her family were introduced. they were superfluous to the story. they didn’t need to be there. and since i don’t even feel like the returning characters got enough development this season (see point #2), i don’t understand why we spent so much time on her/her family/her introduction to the Party. it felt like filler.

- stranger things S2 did that thing teen wolf does where 2/3 of the way through the season it drops a tonally-different expository/flashback episode that does a lot of the legwork tying other shit together while also being completely disconnected from the rest of the plot, which is basically an info dump and is my least favorite way of relaying plot/getting characters to the spot the writer wants them to go. i think kali was the most interesting new character we met this season; i was rapt every time she was onscreen, but i don’t love the “we’re going to shove all of the character development and background info into this one episode and at the end El has had her turnaround and goes back home.” it didn’t feel believable to me. are we ever going to see those people again, or were they just a plot convenience to serve the aforementioned purpose? (idk, i haven’t watched S3 yet, so...we’ll see.)

- some weird...minor tonal changes/dropped plots? in S1 one of the running undercurrents was how mike and nancy’s mom wanted them to talk to her and she really did care about what was going on but they couldn’t connect to her and that bothered her, whereas in S2 it’s like - that theme has been dropped; she’s not involved in their lives really at all, and her and ted’s spousal relationship is just being played for laughs, and there was that REALLY weird scene with her like...lusting after billy?????? that was so fucking bizarre.

and until one line in the very last episode, they dropped the whole thing about hopper’s daughter, too - the way they wove that into the first season was brilliantly done, and just - you don’t see a bit of it in S2, and that felt off, to me.

- killing bob was a bad call. it was gratuitous, AND it was contrived - who the hell is running for their life and then just stops dead in the lobby to smile at their girlfriend? ANY SENSIBLE PERSON WOULD KEEP RUNNING FOR THE DOOR. like - bob died, but the doctor survived???????? the doctor, who was attacked and immobilized and defenseless in a stairwell, somehow wasn’t killed?????? of course not, because he needed to survive, so he could get El her papers later....that entire thing irritated me. it made no sense. that was actually the point where i said to myself “uh-oh. first Bad-with-a-capital-B decision this show’s made.”

- lack of consistency in terms of how, exactly, Stuff Works. in S1 it was like - the Upside Down is everywhere. the demigorgon could come through anywhere, if you were unlucky. that was part of what made it so creepy - there’s this whole other world and it is RIGHT THERE with you, and sometimes the fabric separating the two universes gets scary thin, and bam, you’re somewhere no human has any business being. whereas in S2 it’s like - ok, things are coming through this one portal and spreading through tunnels underground, in our own dimension??? like at first i thought hopper had actually entered the Upside Down in the tunnels, but then it seemed like the tunnels were still on our plane, just gross-looking. so why in S1 could the demigorgon come through the ceiling of will’s house, or through that tree in the woods, or take barbara through the pool? why did the lab people think burning that little gate would help, when the first monster from last season was obviously popping into our dimension from all sorts of other places?

- this is a minor quibble, but it was driving me up the WALL in the last couple of episodes - what in god’s name were they injecting will with??? and HOW. mike just grabs that syringe off the counter like “we need to make will go to sleep” - there is NO reason that anyone in the room would know what was in the syringe or what the correct dosage was or HOW TO GIVE AN INJECTION IN THE FIRST PLACE. joyce gives it??????? by stabbing straight down???????? into will’s arm???????????? what the hell kind of injection technique is that?!?!?! that’s not....how that works. ever. and maxine does it to billy too, in his NECK - just straight in there. there is no....look, people in human medicine can weigh in better than me here; maybe things are different, but just from the veterinary perspective, you can’t just stab a creature any old place you want, and giving something via any route that isn’t intravenous isn’t going to drop an animal immediately, AND you do not have control over how long they’re going to be out. if you give a sedative, you can’t just wake an animal up by wafting ammonia under their nose. AND the animal is likely not going to be actually asleep until you also give an anaesthetic induction agent, and if you do give an anaesthetic induction agent, you’d better have some monitoring equipment and a breathing apparatus hooked up to your patient!

look, it just - the “go to sleep” injection was used to solve too many critical situations for me to just ignore it. it bothered me.

anyhow. overall, i didn’t hate it. but i thought it was way less cohesive than the first season, and therefore way less effective. i’m still curious to see what happens in S3, but my expectations are lower now.

[if you wanna talk to me about this, you have my permission, but ONLY if you’re able to do it without talking about S3 in any capacity, including your own personal evaluation of how good/bad it is in relation to the other seasons. i like to watch without knowing other people’s opinions of things, otherwise i feel like my viewing experience is colored by what i hear. thanks! :) ]

#interdimensional babysitters club

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tisfan · 5 years ago

Text

Ring of Thorns

Title: Ring of Thorns Written by: @tisfan 3023 Square: S3 – Science and Magic Rating: teen and up Triggers/warnings: none Tags: space AU, fairy tale format, sassy Jarvis, bunnies, a truly excessive number of bunnies, pre-slash Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 3919 Art from @gayspacesprinkles (unrelated to the bingo!)

Ship’s log: Stardate 5239.281.5

Woke from hypersleep on schedule -- thank you JARVIS.

“You are welcome, sir.”

The Ring of Thorns is about two days on the sublight engines, which should give me plenty of time to make any course corrections. Course corrections. I say that like anyone has any idea where the best entrance is to the Ring. Several thousand cloaked glass arrows, left over from a war three centuries ago.

JARVIS’s records indicate that a single glass arrow has the explosive capacity to knock a good sized hole in the Malibu, which I have to say, is not an ideal solution. Even with crude calculations of where the bombs were originally seeded -- and let me tell you, that particular chart was not easy to procure -- we don’t know how much stellar drift has moved them. Dozens of ships have tried to fly into the Ring.

All have been, thus far, unsuccessful.

Pieces of the wreckage will add to the difficulty of successfully navigating the field.

I want it noted for the record, if I don’t succeed, I want you to tell Captain Amer -- no scratch that. I always know what I’m doing. This plan I’m gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. What am I even tripping for? Everything's gonna workout exactly the way it's supposed to.

Stardate 5239.282.9

“Set for separation, J?”

“We are set, sir,” JARVIS said. He was the ship’s AI, navigation, piloting, engineering, physician. He served to take the place several key members of a ship’s crew. He was not, however, supposed to be the only other crewmate on a ship the size of the Malibu.

He was, because no one believed Mr. Stark that they could make it through the ring to whatever treasure planet was tucked away inside it.

JARVIS went because he was an AI and because Mr. Stark was his maker. But even if JARVIS had entire free will and he had some, because he was the one steering the ship, he probably wouldn’t have done anything differently. He could have refused to take Mr. Stark at all. Probably. He’d never really tried directly rebelling, and sometimes when he was feeling philosophical, he wondered if that was because he couldn’t rebel, or because Mr. Stark had not been wrong yet, and thus, rebelling was a waste of time.

Mr. Stark would, after all, prove everyone wrong.

And JARVIS wanted to be there, to record all of it.

Truthfully, JARVIS himself wasn’t at risk; he had two backup units hidden away. But if something happened to this version, well, the story would never be told. And he couldn’t have that, could he?

“Remember, sir, close--”

“But not too close, I got it. We got this. Launch the dummy section.”

“Piloting remotely,” JARVIS said. He separated the dummy section of the ship, broad and ugly with the best forward shields that money could buy. He should know. He’d purchased them. And then Mr. Stark had improved them.

The dummy section looked like, in all honesty, like a flying brick. But that was all right. All it had to do was shield the smaller craft behind it.

“Let’s plow the road, JARVIS,” Mr. Stark said.

“As you say, sir.”

Stardate 5239.282.11

“Well, that could have been worse,” Tony said. He was breathing hard, and his hands were shaking. Sweat dripped down the back of his flight suit. But he was alive.

He landed the smaller, more maneuverable craft inside the docking ring.

“Allow me to inform you, sir, there are four glass arrows affixed to the hull--”

“You just have to ruin my moment,” Tony complained. “Can I get a countdown, or is that too much to ask?” He was already unlocking his piloting harness, grabbed a stim patch on his way past the console -- he’d need to be on his mettle if he was going to disarm bombs without detonating them instead and all the juice from his hectic ride through the Ring had dissipated.

“They are quiescent, at the moment, sir,” JARVIS told him. “But core deterioration suggests they are not supposed to be in an atmosphere with oxygen, and they will explode soon enough.”

“Wait, there’s life support in the hanger?”

“It would appear so, sir.”

“Why?” The Ring of Thorns had been in place for several hundred years at least. There was no reason for life support to still be functional.

“I shan’t hazard a guess at this remove,” JARVIS said.

“Can we vent the docking bay?” Tony had more than enough O2 in his suit, as he hadn’t been expecting any such systems to still be in place.

“No, sir,” JARVIS said. “I was able to override the security systems to get us inside by claiming emergency repairs. The system will not let us out until the proper codes have been entered. As well as sudden venting often disrupts seemingly stationary objects--”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to turn the room into a pinball machine. All right, I’m on it.”

Tony had removed three of the bombs -- truly elegant, lethal little things. They were no bigger than two fingers wide and about four times as long, concealed by a mirror-shield that bent light around it, showing up as flecks of black and the occasional flash of light in a starfield. No propellant, no heat reading, not even any traceable particles emissions. Old school explosives. Not quite all the way back to pipebombs with horseshoe nails mixed in, but still. Household chemicals.

Ions only knew what the people who made them were thinking when they mixed them up and set them loose in space to guard their station and their planet.

They were all dead, at least.

Theoretically. No one could get close enough to tell.

“Uh, sir,” JARVIS said. “You have company. Turn around very slowly.”

Tony didn’t quite raise his hands, but he was expecting to see someone armed and presumably dangerous.

What he saw instead was-- an animal? With white and tan fur covering its entire body, including a set of very long ears. Red eyes peered at him curiously and the creature took a few hopping steps closer.

“JARVIS,” Tony muttered, keeping his eyes on the creature, “what is it?”

“A Lagomorpha, particularly a subset of Leporidae. Known as oryctolagus cuniculus domesticus, or more commonly, a bunny rabbit.”

“Does it eat-- meat?” Tony was an awfully big meal, but as he watched the-- rabbit-- carefully, he noticed there were more.

A lot more.

“I daresay, sir, unless the species has evolved along another path,” JARVIS said, “they are primarily interested in grasses, fruits, and vegetables. A garden pest, as they were described in older zoology reports. And, to some degree, a pet.”

“People pet them?” Tony wondered, looking around. They were fluffy and sort of cute. Some of them sat up on their hind legs to look closer at Tony.

“Other people raised them for food and fur stock,” JARVIS continued.

Tony took a step forward and the lead rabbit thumped his foot several times against the deck plating. Other rabbits took up the signal and stamped as well, until the entire facility was ringing like being inside a drum.

Tony found himself on the floor, hands clapped over his ears. By the time the noise stopped, three or four of the bunnies were very close to Tony, noses wiggling curiously. One of them hopped all the way up to him, put a soft paw on his knee and poked its face directly at his chin.

“I’m not made of food,” Tony told it, and he went to shoo it away, but he touched it instead.

Oh. Oh, it was so soft. Oh, Ions, so soft. He let himself sit down, let them hop up to him, sniffing curiously.

“It seems they have never seen a human, either, sir,” JARVIS commented.

“Do, uh, we have anything we could feed them? What are they even eating around here?”

“A closer look at the scans, sir,” JARVIS said, “the hydroponics bays seem to have overrun most of the station. They’ve been living in a perfect bunny paradise. All the food they could want, and no predators.”

“Sounds lovely,” Tony said, and one of the bunnies hopped into his lap and proceeded to turn around a few times before flopping over and going to sleep. “Although, gotta say, a cargo bay of rabbits wasn’t what I was hoping to find.”

Riches, technological artifacts, answers. Especially answers. What had happened here, why had the people gone silent, or died? Why did they leave behind such elaborate traps?

“We could set up a fur trade, sir,” JARVIS suggested and Tony could have sworn that every single bunny in the room gave him the stink eye. All at once. It was chilling.

“Yeeaaah, think I’m gonna go with no on that one, JARVIS,” Tony said. “Do you think there’s anyway to explain kaboom to them, because if I don’t get that last glass arrow off the hull, we’re all going to be in the fur trade.”

“You neglected to add lapine language skills to my databanks, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Smart ass AI,” Tony muttered, nudging the black bunny out of his lap. “Shoo. Go fetch. Something. Do you fetch? Yeah, go… go find a-- what to rabbits eat?”

“Strictly speaking, their diet is a mix of alfalfa and--”

“Whatever. Go… have a smoothie. Look, if you go into the galley on my ship, DUM-E will make you smoothies, go go.”

They didn’t go go or shoo shoo, but they did back up a little or hopped away as he stood up. He had to watch his feet as he moved back over to the ship, grabbing for the wrench. “Switch it up, JARVIS,” he said, and JARVIS triggered the color changing squares on the outside of the ship, one at a time, until Tony could physically locate the glass arrow, and only because he was looking really closely. The arrow changed colors, too, but at a slightly -- very slightly -- slower rate.

And then Tony was able to find it by touch, sliding his hand over the panel until he encountered a small projection.

Once removed from the ship, the colors swirled again until what Tony held in his hands was flesh and floor and bunny colored. The biologics didn’t blend as easily, they weren’t mathematical or predictable, so once he had it away from the hull, it was a lot easier to look at.

For something called a glass arrow, it was neither. More like a flat, thin package with a few grooves at each end. Not really accurate, but evocative, the imagery, he meant. Twisting the tail end, he slowly removed the detonation packet, wrapped in hyper thin plastics. Once that package was out, the arrow itself was rendered mostly harmless. Except that Tony would feel better getting all of it off the ship.

He found a couple of rolling bins in the docking bay, emptied them of the tools they contained, and then loaded the explosives into them. “Can I space this shit, or is the airlock broken, too?”

“The south side airlock appears fully functional, sir,” JARVIS told him. Tony grabbed a couple of remote-automatics and affixed them to the sides of the bins. Station gravity would eventually grab anything floating in proximity to the station; it had taken quite a few murderers getting caught before they realized you could not, in fact, just junk a body out an airlock.

But you could fire one into the nearest star. Which is what the remote-automatics were for. Small, one shot of fuel, affixable to a trash or discarded object -- or even at some of the largest ring world systems, to move supplies through space -- to propel them away. Once in motion, they’d stay in motion until a larger gravity well swallowed them up.

“Bombs away,” Tony said, setting the bins into the airlock. He sealed the inner door, opened the outer door, and then flew the trash off into space. The nearest star was several weeks away by sub light propulsion. Unless it hit a few of its cousins while out there, in which case, he could expect a pretty pretty boom in a few hours.

“Always so observant, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, pushing away from the porthole. “You got anything for me yet?”

“Their mainframe systems are so old as to be little better than hand-cranked automobiles, sir,” JARVIS said. “I’m having difficulty navigating their systems without overwhelming them. That said, the system suggests you might find an interpreter on the eighth deck, C-section.”

“I am not delivering a baby on this station,” Tony swore and chuckled to himself. It wouldn’t take JARVIS that long to find the reference -- it had always been a bit of a challenge with them. Could Tony, in fact, find a historical or cultural reference so old that JARVIS didn’t have access to it.

So far the answer had always been no.

Tony grabbed several tools to help him around the ship; a crowbar for opening unruly doors, as well as more electronic overrides. MagmaTorch, if he had to go through the door.

The vegetation was even thicker in the hallways. “Where are the plants getting food from?” Because really, dirt was a thing, even if Tony didn’t like standing on it. There was a thick coating of moss on the floor in places, and Tony found himself stepping around it. He did squat down long enough to take a sample, and send it off to JARVIS to analyze.

“Sample shows a flourishing, if unusual, ecosystem, sir,” JARVIS told him. “The sample appears to be similar to compost. Organic waste, sir.”

“Rabbit shit?”

“It’s likely the first plants would have started in the hydroponics area; if they outgrew their containers, they would have likely encountered fertilizer and soil samples there. My map of the station shows that system-recycling was only a deck below.”

“Old human shit,” Tony rephrased.

“And bodies that weren’t spaced, food waste, biological waste.” Many places stored that up, condensed into cubes, packed into bags, and then sold to terraforming colonies. Probably the same sort of idea. It was being used for its intended purpose, then, if not necessarily its intended place. “The ship’s lighting system has stayed on, providing material for photosynthesis. Since the late twenty-fifth century all human space-going vehicles utilize solar lamps to prevent crew depression, mood swings, and the inability to digest certain foods.”

“Yeah, we’re made for gravity and sunlight,” Tony said. He paused to force a door to the companionway. The ladders stretched up and down several levels, slightly offset to prevent a bad fall from becoming a fatal flaw. Smart. “So they’re not in any immediate danger of being wiped out?”

“The power banks are currently still at half capacity. With such a slow rate of decay, even without intelligent interference, this colony could continue on without problems for another three or four hundred years.”

“What are they using to power this place?”

JARVIS continued to analyze the station, providing more and more obscure data and facts. Frankly, Tony stopped entirely listening. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, but there were also interesting things--

He stopped in a long hallway with doors spaced equally, and pushed one open. Crew quarters, right? Had to be…

The room was empty. Not just of crew, he really was not expecting a skeleton -- or maybe he was -- but also of artifacts. It was just empty. Bed cubby with no mattress, desk with no terminal or ports. Closet with no clothes.

“People did used to live here, didn’t they?”

“Records suggest that this station had a population of approximately twenty-thousand human beings at the time that contact with the greater galaxy ended.”

“What the hell happened to twenty-thousand people? I mean, even if the rabbits ate them--”

“Let me remind you, sir, that rabbits are primarily vegetarian,” JARVIS said.

“Thanks, you might need to keep reminding me of that--”

He wasn’t going to be able to close that door again, since a handful of rabbits had followed him in, and he wasn’t sure how to get them out again. They didn’t really seem like herd creatures to him. And while they’d been surviving perfectly well on their own, he didn’t really want them to starve to death because of him. Right?

It was a working theory, at least. No rabbit murdering.

He made it all the way to 8th-deck, Section C. Finally. Plants. A lot of them, too. And more rabbits.

“What exactly am I looking for here?” Tony wondered. He pushed his way through thicker plants, almost jungle-like in their sheer stubbornness to give way.

“I might say you’ll know it when you see it, sir,” JARVIS said, “which would be quite helpful, since I’m entirely uncertain--”

“Oh.”

That.

Stardate 5239.283.02

“I don’t believe the situation is going to change, no matter how long you keep staring,” JARVIS commented.

“Sarcastic, I like that.”

“I know that, sir.”

“Still. This is not something I want to jump into right away. I mean, when the station AI--”

“It’s not an AI sir, the station’s computer systems are significantly less advanced in all ways--”

“Don’t be petty. It’s beneath you.”

“As I don’t, in fact, have a corporeal body, sir, you might add that everything is beneath me. Or nothing is beneath me. An interesting question for the next time you feel philosophical.”

“Which does not answer any of my current philosophical questions,” Tony said. “Like who is this guy, why is he asleep in that thing, and will he die immediately if we try to wake him up?”

“Probably not immediately,” JARVIS said. “He’s hardly a vampire and going to poof into dust at exposure to sunlight.”

“What?”

“I beg your pardon sir, I was looking up some of the various mythology typical to this station at the time. Did you know they believed the whole place was cursed?”

“Of course they did,” Tony said. “Also, why would I know that? How could I possibly know that-- cursed? What even does cursed mean?”

“A curse is the belief that powerful entities can take an interest in humans,” JARVIS said. “Faeries, witches, demigods and deities, for example. When these humans do something wrong, or offensive, or are in some cases, just being used as scapegoats for a powerful creature, that leads to a curse. A series of misfortunes that cannot be averted, except by a single act. Sometimes it’s ridiculously complicated, like when the moon loses her child if it happens in a week when two Mondays come together. And sometimes, all that takes to break a curse is true love’s first kiss.”

“Like that’s not complicated,” Tony complained. “So you’re saying I should kiss the guy awake to break the curse?”

“Much in the case of a week with two Mondays, sir,” JARVIS said, “you might want to take into consideration that your blood and cells are filled with--”

“Aesculapian nanintes,” Tony breathed. Which repaired injuries, protected him from disease and posion, and vastly extended his life span. Most infants born on Tony’s planet inherited some of them from their parents, but often required a booster injection every twenty years. And, in emergencies, you could share your nanintes with someone else, to heal their wounds.

Tony had gotten a booster shot last year, on his fortieth birthday, which meant his system was currently in top form.

“The fastest way to share nanites--”

“Is fluid transfer.”

“A kiss,” Tony corrected, directing a smug smile in no particular direction. JARVIS could see him.

“Indeed, sir, I’m so glad you thought of it.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Flounder,” JARVIS responded. “Badly.”

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate with that one.”

Tony studied the casing a little while longer. The man was dressed entirely in white, except for a black cap where his left arm had been, he had long hair and just a hint of a beard. If Tony had to guess, he’d say the man had gone into some sort of healing tube while a replacement limb was vat-grown for him. Nanites could mend split skin and broken bones, but it wasn’t much good at regrowing parts entirely.

But Tony didn’t see any sort of vat system at all. Maybe they kept that somewhere else.

Theoretically, Tony’s nanites would keep the man alive, long enough to ask some questions, to find the bioregen chambers, or their historical equivalent. Get some answers, provide some aid. Something.

And, also, very quietly, to himself, where even JARVIS couldn’t hear him.

Tony might actually want to kiss the man.

He was stunningly, almost shockingly beautiful. His cheeks were just perfect, and the chin, with the hint of a cleft. Full, kissable lips, parted just a little. Long lashes. Tony didn’t know what color his eyes were, but he liked to think they were blue. Tony felt like he could see… everything.

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Your brain is producing an increased amount of vasopressin, adrenaline, dopamine, and oxytocin.”

“Yeah?”

“And I believe you are experiencing mydriasis-- it’s a nerve reaction that causes your pupils to dilate,” JARVIS went on.

“Which means what?”

“Quite honestly, sir,” JARVIS said. “I think you are, as the poets would say, falling in love.”

“Yeah?” Tony found he didn’t quite care. It was almost like being drunk, a warm, fuzzy sort of feeling that just, made him generally happy. He wanted to share that with someone. A very specific someone.

He wasn’t sure how he knew which button to push, but the top of the tube slid away, and the man inside took a slow, stuttering breath.

“It’s all right,” Tony told him. “I’m here to rescue you.”

He leaned in, mouth open slightly, and kissed the man he hadn’t even really met. It was more than love at first meeting, it was--

A very nice kiss, warm, soothing, soft, with just a little heat in it.

The man pulled away, licked his lips as if tasting Tony on them and gazed up at him. “Uh… aren’t you a little short to be a stormtrooper?”

“What?” Tony blinked, then blinked again. “How-- how do you know Star Wars? That is Star Wars you’re quoting, right, late 20th century cinema? I-- I’m a--”

The man struggled to sit, and Tony helped him until he could swing his legs over the side. “So, uh, question-- who are you, and why is there a rabbit on top of my stasis tube?”

“Um, my name is Tony Stark,” Tony said.

“Bucky Barnes,” the man said. “Uh, nice to meet you. Great kiss by the way, hell of a wake up call. Is my unit waiting for me--”

“Uh, no, no, probably not.”

Bucky stared around the room, from the bunny to the greenery to the bunny, and then back to Tony. “How long? How long was I asleep?”

“I can’t say exactly, but-- it’s been at least three hundred years since we last had contact with this station.”

“Oh.” Bucky took a deep breath, and then another one, and a third. “Oh. I guess… I guess she won.”

“Who? Who did this to you? What happened here?”

“Hydra did this to me. Mother of serpents and dragons. A witch. It’s a long story.”

“I-- don’t think there’s any such thing as witches,” Tony said, hesitantly.

“Oh, there are,” Bucky said. “Believe me. There are.”

A/n - art from @gayspacesprinkles isn’t it LOVELY!? Now stop screaming, I already have a part 2 planned for this.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #winterironwidow #Tony Stark & Sassy JARVIS #bingo fill

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