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damn-stark · 2 years ago

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Chapter 1 Who’s that girl?

Chapter 1 of Stargirl

A/N- I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!!!

Warning- Swearing, angst, fluff! SLOWBURN, long chapter.

Pairing- Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Episode- 2x01

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“What do you think?” He asks as he takes a bite from his burger.

What do I think? Well…dearest father, it’s the most rural place we’ve stayed at, it reeks like cow manure, there’s only one high school here for the entire town so if the desire to change schools occurs it can’t happen unless you are willing to drive me like an hour out of town…

Then again you’ve never actually went to an actual school with people your age. Since you move around a lot you’ve always been homeschooled with either your father or grandmother as your teacher, so there’s little you think you’ll complain about…maybe just lack of friends, or uh…overpopulation of assholes. Yeah, that’d be a deal breaker.

“Well,” you sigh and put your burger down. “It’s something. Uh, grandma was right, it does stink. But,” you pause and shrug whilst you meet his brown eyes. “It’s cozy. It’s quaint.”

Your dad chuckles and looks out the car window. “Quaint? Yeah, yeah. But it’s home,” he grumbles with low enthusiasm. He also wasn’t a fan of...Hawkins? Yeah that’s it, Hawkins—Even if he was the one that grew up here.

You hum and lower your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose to take a better look at all the greenery that lays ahead of you. At least that’s one of the pros of moving out here, this place is green, there’s trees everywhere, you even live by a lake! You’re used to city landscapes so trees, lake houses and small towns are like blue moons; Rare and quite beautiful.

“Are you gonna go see uncle Jim?” You ask your father and throw a fry in your mouth.

Your dad hums for a moment before he lets out a deep breath. “Yeah,” he answers hesitantly. “I’ll surprise him at work.”

You drift your gaze to the corner of your eyes and see him with his jaw clenched which never means anything good, so you don't press on that touchy subject and put away your food. “I’m too nauseous to keep eating.” You throw your head back on the headrest and groan. “Maybe I can go with you, or go organize the house?”

Your father had people go move everything in and organize everything before you got here, but going to school with so many people is upsetting your stomach, and making your heart and mind all panicky and fast moving.

“House is organized, and I’m going to work,” your dad says and blinks to meet your gaze.

“Yeah,” you huff, “a job which consists of sneaking around and talking to people.”

“Today,” he corrects you. “But still, after all that sneaking,” he mocks you. “Then it’s a lot of talking on the phone, computer shit, and filling out paper. You hate that stuff. So, you go to school, make some friends, see if any of the teachers remember me—”

“They can’t remember you if they’re dead,” you grumble and bounce your eyebrows. “You are ancient.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Just…have fun,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes and groan out dramatically so he knows you’re bugged. You then proceed to rest your arms over the open window, and rest your chin on your clasped hands to pout.

And it’s at that very moment that you look through the rear view mirror, that you catch the gleaming brown eyes of a guy with the best brown styled hair you’ve seen a guy wear. He has nice thin pink lips, he’s tall from what you can notice, and slim but not super scrawny, he’s like, perfectly built, like Tom cruise! Yeah, that’s right, he’s like a Tom cruise type, only this guy is a lot cuter.

You shouldn't have been able to notice so much in that little time he passes by, but the funniest thing is that time seemed to slow down a bit.

Albeit he was walking around with some brunette girl so he didn’t care about you.

“So you ready then?”

Maybe now that you’ll be in somewhat of a stable living condition you’ll get a boyfriend! Maybe a guy as nice looking as that guy that passed by.

“Kid?” Your dad calls out again and nudges your arm.

You snap your eyes over to him and quirk a quizzical brow. “Huh?”

He snickers. “Ready to go in? I have shit to do.”

You sigh and lift your chin off your hands to take your sunglasses off your face and put them away, even if it goes with the mini black dress, and the black knee high boots over the tights. It may be a lot for school, but…what do girls wear to school?

“Let’s go,” you mumble and hide your nerves.

Once you get inside the school it’s when the stares all direct at you, no one is shy to look away especially because your dad is walking at your side, and well you are the new girl. It makes you feel like you’re under a spotlight, or like you just got in trouble and have to be escorted to the principal. You try to ignore the wandering stares as best as you can, but they do make that knot in your stomach only feel worse.

You would’ve hooked your arm around your fathers, but you were already getting talked about and stared at so you just dig your nails on your palms and stick by your dads side the entire way to the front office. When you do reach that office, just as your dad is going to open the door for you, some guy with a blond mullet, a denim over denim outfit, and a creepy smirk holds the door open for you.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

The guy shoots you a wink and then looks you up and down before you walk past, making you scrunch your nose in disgust, and then look back at your dad with a teasing smile once the guy is gone.

“That is a guy you wanna stay away from,” your dad whispers to you.

“Were you one of those guys daddy?” You ask him.

Your dad shakes his head. “Nah, I was nerdy back then. I was picked on by the guys that looked like that. Your uncle always got in trouble ‘cause he stepped in to protect me.”

You smile softly since this is one of the rare times he talked good about his half older brother; same dad but they had different moms.

“I wonder if those same guys would pick on you now,” you retort with a smirk.

Your dad scoffs softly. “I’d like to see em try.”

“How can I help you two?” The front office lady asks, cutting off your conversation with your dad.

“Yeah,” your dad agrees and turns to face the young red head—or well she isn’t young, but she is younger than the other lady across from her. “Actually, it’s my daughter's first day of school today, I came to sign some papers.”

The lady’s eyebrows lift as she now realizes who you are. “Oh, the new senior, okay. Just a moment let me grab those papers for you now.” The lady gets out of her seat and walks to the cabinet at the other end of the room.

“Here,” your dad directs at you and turns to hand you your backpack he had been carrying. “Remember I’ll pick you up after school so don’t try to sneak off somewhere,” he says with a feigned stern tone since he really doesn’t mean it. He just likes to sound authoritative with you in front of other adults.

You playfully roll your eyes and nod stiffly. “Sure, sure.” You swing your backpack over your shoulder, but now, hoping he’d change his mind and let you stay home now, you part your lips to ask, but then the door opens and that brunette girl that was with the cute guy walks into the office alone.

She’s very pretty, and has a very prominent jaw, like the kind the celebrities have. Is she senior too?

“Here they are,” the lady returns and presses the papers on the counter for your dad to sign. “Will you be the main parent to contact, or will it be the mother?”

You look at the red headed women and then glance at your dad.

“No, no,” he chuckles and begins to fill out what was highlighted on the sheets. “It’s just me. No mom.”

The lady lowers her glasses to check out your dad and slowly sits back on her chair. “If it’s just you and her then why move all the way out in the middle of nowhere.”

Your dad shrugs. “Just wanted to give my girl a calm life, we’ve been around a lot so I, uh, wanted to give her a more simple life like how I had back in my prime.”

The lady smiles and leans forward to bat her eyelashes and show more of her cleavage to your father—She wouldn’t be the first. It’s weird, women hear that he’s a single and caring father and the ladies swoon.

He doesn’t fail to notice it either, he always likes to flirt with women this way because he says it’s the simplest trick in the book; showing he cares about his family, and showing off that he was a caring single dad. He also says that when you were a baby women would swoon and flock around him.

Do you believe that? Hardly.

“We encourage every student to take an extracular,” the lady says but keeps looking at your dad. “Here’s what we have open.” She places another piece of paper on the table and points to the top labeled ‘activities’, and then drags her pen down to mark the women’s sport section.

When you look at what they have for sports though, all the shit is lame for women.

“You should give band a try,” your dad suggests. “Play the trumpet like your old man.”

You hum and shrug. “Eh, how about women’s soccer?” You look up at him to meet his gaze. “I could try that considering there’s, like no boxing or you know stuff like that.”

“Did you come to Hawkins?” The lady interjects and pulls your fathers attention away.

“Yeah, I did, a long time ago it seems like now. I’m Rowan Hopper.” He reveals.

The lady’s eyes go wide and she has to take off her glasses to…look better?

“You’re related to Chief Hopper?” She probes with a curious look.

Your dad nods stiffly. “Yeah, he’s my older brother. Half-brother. Did you go to Hawkins?”

You roll your eyes and circle the sport you want to enter and slide the paper back to the lady. “Here,” you cut her off to continue this progress before you last here all day.

The lady blinks and drags her eyes to you and sighs before taking the paper. “Okay, I’ll tell the coach. Practice is every Tuesday and Thursday after school.”

You hum in agreement and push yourself back from the counter since you’re done.

“Here’s your schedule,” the lady says and shows off a sheet of paper with all your classes on it.

When you take it she gets up and walks around the counter to reach the same brunette girl. “This here is Nancy Wheeler, she’ll be your chaperone for the day. She’ll show you to your classes.” She feigns a smile, and you meet Nancy’s gaze to shoot her an awkward tightlipped smile.

“That’s all we need, you’re free to go, thank you,” the lady continues and now gets closer to your dad to actually grin. “Come back whenever you want, I can show you around if you’d like.”

You stifle your teasing laugh, and catch Nancy’s amused look that matches yours at the sound of the lady being so bold with your father.

“I might have to take you up on that offer,” your dad retorts with a small smile before he turns to meet your gaze. “I’ll see you later kid.”

You let out a deep breath and nod stiffly. “Okay.”

He begins to back away, but first pulls his finger close to the corner of his lips, and then curves it upward to motion you to smile.

You scoff at his speechless message and offer him a tightlipped smile.

He doesn’t like that response though, so he repeats himself, causing you to sigh and offer him a sweet smile.

“Good, good,” he says and reaches the door. “I’ll see you later my dear, have a good first day.”

You offer him a small goodbye wave and a sadder look. “Bye daddy.”

Said man shoots you a smile before he turns and walks out of the office, leaving you with your guide Nancy now.

“Okay,” she cuts in and walks over to you. “I can show you to your locker, it’s right by mine.”

You look over at her and nod in comprehension before she leads you out.

It’s quiet between you and her for a few seconds. You haven’t really had many friends, or had the time to talk to anyone your age, so it’s hard to know what to talk about, but you try.

“Are you senior too?” You ask her.

Nancy steals a quick glance and shakes her head. “No, I'm a junior, but we share a lot of the same classes. And well, we don’t get many new kids here but when we do, helping them is extra credit.”

Ah a big shot. Your dad told you about people like her. He was once like her too, so you can’t say they’re terrible people, actually she's the kind of person you should be friends with.

“Ah, well, thanks anyway,” you exhale and look around at all the gawkers watching you like if you’re their next meal. “This is my first day at an actual school, so I,” you giggle nervously. “Would be completely lost.”

“Actual school,” Nancy quotes with a curios gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” you pause and avert your gaze. “I’ve been homeschooled almost my whole life until now.”

Nancy’s already big eyes go even wider, and her lips spread to a faint amused smile. “Wow, that’s interesting. Why the sudden change? I mean you’re a senior, you’re almost done with school.”

To avoid exposing what little you do know about your dads mission here at Hawkins, you shorten your short version. “Well…my dad came here so I said why not give it a try? Get the high school experience before I can’t.”

Nancy hums softly and nods along. “Nice. Well I really hope you like it, even if coming here isn’t so exciting.”

You laugh softly, and slow down to a stop alongside her as she walks to a pair of lockers. “Well, you know I’m actually looking towards the slow boring days,” you share with her, and surprise yourself because you are sharing.

You aren’t shy, or you don’t think you are, but you also didn’t think you’d be diving so deep with someone yet. “My dad and I move around a lot, in and out of the country for his work, never too long anywhere so I’m actually excited for the mundane stuff that Hawkins has to offer.” You add.

Nancy blinks and peers back to meet your gaze with a spark of interest that twinkles in her eyes and shows off a small smile. “Well you put it that way,” she mumbles and turns to open her own locker. “Then it’s hard to argue.”

You hum and look at your paper to read the number of your combination. You do know how to do that so you open it with ease, but as you do, from the corner of your eye you catch the cute guy from before sneaking up on Nancy from behind. He catches her by surprise and wraps his arm around her neck before pressing a kiss on her cheek.

Nancy giggles and squirms away from his touch, letting you shove nothing in your locker since you actually don’t know what you need yet, it’s just awkward to watch them, so you just look at the empty and small locker.

“Hey, y/n,” Nancy calls.

You shut the locker door and slowly turn to face her and him.

“This is Steve…”

So that’s his name? He looks like a Steve.

“Steve, this is the new girl, Y/N, she just transferred from homeschool, she’s actually a senior too.” Nancy introduces and plasters a small smile on her face.

The guy throws his hand up for a stiff greeting, and then lifts his chin. “Hey.”

You draw in a deep breath and smile softly. “Hey,” you exhale, and find yourself holding his gaze for a moment before you pull your eyes away and look at your schedule. Unbeknownst to you he keeps his gaze on you for another lingering second.

“Well, I’ll catch you later Nance,” Steve interjects. “I need to grab something from my locker. I just came to say hi.”

Nancy gives him a comprehensive response before he presses a kiss on her lips, letting you know the status of their relationship. He in fact is not single….

“Come on,” Nancy directs at you now and points her head down the hall. “I’ll show you to your first class.”

The walk there is short but is now filled with silence. You would have tried to fill it, but one, you are very much disappointed by him being taken, even if you weren’t going to try something either way. And two, you also can’t speak because of your never ending set of racing nerves that riddle your body. It’s why when you reach your class you step just to the door, and then pull your head back to watch Nancy get out of sight before you rush to the bathroom just down the hall from the class.

Thankfully no one else is inside so you face the window and exhale deeply.

Today shouldn’t be so hard, you tell yourself—it’s like another day at your dads office…those rare times he gets to go—

Only these aren’t adults but kids your own age, judgy kids who haven’t stopped looking at you.

You stick out like a sore thumb here! It’s awful—but you’ll get over it, it’ll be okay. You’ll make friends, go to class and blend in.

You’ll live a normal life for however long you last here.

Isn’t that what you’ve wanted, what wished for afterall? Stability? An ounce of normal in your hectic life?

Well this can be it, stability.

You exhale again, and pull out your lipgloss to apply one more coat before you walk out and head back to class just as the bell rings in the somewhat empty hall. The only one also walking the hall is Steve, and he seems to be walking to the end of the hall where your class is.

Does he have the same class? Hm?

And just as you think about him he looks back and finds you, but he then looks back ahead quickly. A couple seconds pass and he looks back again; does he have something to say or what?

You’d move but you have the same class so you stay and keep walking behind him.

Steve peers back once more, so you scoff this time and throw him a comment. “I’m not following you if that’s what you’re thinking.” You open your schedule and point to the first class. “See, same class.”

Steve turns around to walk back and face you. “Never thought that, but now that you are showing me, did homeschooling not teach you how to hold a paper right? Aren’t you people supposed to be wicked smart?”

You blink rapidly in disbelief and scoff as you turn the paper around the right away. “Did homeschooling not teach you how to hold a paper right?” You mock him.

Steve narrows his gaze on you before he rolls his eyes and feigns a dry laugh. “Real mature. Guess you just proved me wrong.” He teases with a playful smirk.

You shoot him an unamused glare and quip back. “You started it, now I’m heading to class.” You huff out and pick up your pace to walk past him.

“Yeah?” He scoffs. “Well me too.” He picks up his own pace to beat you to the same class.

You roll your eyes in annoyance, but you also can’t help but smile faintly at the ground before you walk in your first class.

——

*LATER*

Lunch, a break between classes before the rest of the day. It’s not as different as home, albeit usually you did eat lunch with your grandmother or your father, and the food was…uh…way more appetizing than whatever slob they give here.

Regardless, pushing that plate aside, Nancy. You asked if she’d like to have lunch with you so you wouldn’t sit alone in the cafeteria in the middle of all the other students with clics of their own, but, well she isn’t here. Nor is her boyfriend. It’s been 10 minutes now too. Perhaps she’s just running late.

Or she just doesn’t want to talk to you and pretended to be interested in what you had to say between classes….

Yeah….that sounds right—but! You’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and keep waiting.

Eat? No, you’ll bring your own food next time.

Think about going to, “Tina’s Halloween bash.” And get “sheet faced”? Yeah, it sounds promising. Cool. You've never been to a high school party so it should be cool, especially because it’s a costume party!

Maybe you can be—well that’s still up for debate, but it should be cool. Maybe you can even make more friends, considering the one you wanted to be with isn’t showing up. Great.

Maybe being outside will make you seem less like the new girl. At least you won’t be gawked at as much anyway.

Thus you push yourself off the bench and pick up your tray. Yet just before you can turn away from the chair a plate slams on the spot across from you.

You slowly lift your eyes and notice a guy with long brown hair, a leather jacket over a band shirt, and kind brown eyes.

“Hello, new girl and welcome to Hawkins high!” He greets with a wide welcoming grin.

You slowly sit back down and offer him a small smile. “Hi…” you mumble.

The guy rests his elbows on the table and then rests his chin on his hands before leaning in. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”

You squint your eyes and feel your lips tug to a wider smile. “Y/N?”

He narrows his gaze and picks on that. “Is it y/n? Or are you messing with me? Or are you just not sure, I’ve heard you’re homeschooled.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I was homeschooled, not kept from learning. I’m just….unsure.”

“Unsure?” He quotes and picks his head off his chin. “About what? Me?” He points at his chest.

You shrug. “You know you just come here, leather coat, long hair like Ozzy Osborne, I just need to be cautious.”

The guy's eyes go wide and his smile widens. “Don’t shit me girl, you know Ozzy Osbourne?”

You narrow your gaze and furrow your brows in confusion at his question. “Yes. Why shouldn’t I?”

The guy looks you up and down and then points at your dress. “Because you’re dressed like that?”

You chuckle and nod. “Yeah, I guess lookwise I kind of give a different perspective, but, that’s why you can’t really judge me based on my looks.” You shrug playfully.

The guy chuckles and then smiles softly. “You’re right. So y/n—”

“First,” you cut him off. “I gave you mine, now give me yours.”

The guy holds your gaze and shares what you ask for. “Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

You shoot him a sweet grin. “Well thanks Eddie for taking time from your lunch to talk to me.”

“Well,” he says and picks up his plastic spork. “You looked lonely so I came out of pity.” He smirks.

You feign a laugh, but then go serious. “You are joking right? Because if you aren’t, this makes things weird.”

Eddie snickers and nods. “I’m messing with you, but really I came because you did look lonely.”

You mess with your food and sigh. “I was waiting for my guide who agreed to lunch but she bailed.”

He hums and then takes the orange flier from the table. “You got invited to this thing?”

You hum in agreement. “Yep. This girl was just handing them out so I took it.”

Eddie’s eyebrows begin to knit together out of cursoity. “You goin’?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, depends if I can come up with a last minute costume. Are you?”

Eddie slams the paper down and shoves food in his mouth. “I’m too much of a loser to be invited to one of those parties.”

“What?” You quip. “Loser? Really? I don’t see it.”

“You,” my friend he says and swallows his food. “Haven’t been here long, so let me tell you, me and my friends. The band geeks, some of the school newspaper people, and you know all that stuff, are considered losers here by the jocks and everyone who has enough of daddy’s money to buy themselves some friends.”

You set your utensil down and look around at everyone having lunch before you look back at Eddie. “I can’t say I agree with you, I’ve been homeschooled my whole life up until now. All my school experience comes from tv and my dads stories. If I go to that Halloween party it will be my first highschool party ever, but from what I’m experiencing now, I think you’re cool. I mean besides Nancy, you’re the first person who’s bothered to have an actual conversation with me.”

Eddie’s offers you a half smile and nods slowly. “Thanks. You’re cool too, especially because you know Ozzy Osbourne. But I don’t want to taint you, you’re new, pretty, you can have cool friends.”

You nod. “Yeah, but will they actually be genuine if all they care about is my looks, and my daddy's money, as you say?”

“Guess that depends.”

You hum softly and take the flier from the table to shove it in your backpack.

“But can we rewind and touch on the fact that you haven’t gone to a high school party before?” Eddie points out, making you cover your face and grow hot out of embarrassment.

“I told you,” you remind him. “I’ve been homeschooled. My dad moves around a lot for work, so as to not keep moving schools, he just chose to teach me, and let my very strict grandma teach me. I can’t really make friends and go out if I’m hopping on a plane every other month.”

Eddie leans over and slams his hands on the table. “Well you my friend are going to crash that party with me.”

You put your hand down and slowly begin to smile with joy. “Really? That sounds like fun. I'm down.”

——

*LATER*

Much of the second half of school was quite boring, a lot of stuff that the teachers talked about is stuff you already learned so it serves mostly as a reminder. Which…can be useful for tests…

That girl Nancy, showed up after stranding you at lunch and did not forget to throw apologies, saying that she forgot she was going to help her boyfriend study, and that she literally forgot about lunch. It doesn’t make a good impression to you’re already cautious mind, but you ignore the warning and let it slide.

It’s not like you have much options anyway.

And now home. Your dad got home and went off to report, type, and write about his mystery day. He has failed to come out of his office, so you’re left to your own devices. Which consists of staying in your living room watching tv and doing homework, you’re just not used to so much space, it all feels…forbidden. It just doesn’t feel like it’s yours yet. You’ll give it time though, soon your mind will come to terms that your current house is more than just a square.

Albeit there is one aspect that does make you grasp how big your house is, and that’s how lonely it all makes you feel. Usually you’re content knowing that your dad is in the room next to yours, but now you’re in the living room and he’s upstairs, far, and closed off in his office.

He didn’t even come down for dinner.

Maybe you should pay him a visit. Cure yourself from this loneliness.

“Hey,” you call softly. “Dad.” You tap your fist on the door again and press your ear against the door.

A few seconds pass before his voice travels out. “Come in.”

You slowly open the door and first peak your head inside. “You missed dinner,” you say as you watch him spin around on his chair to face you cautiously stepping in his office. “So I brought it for you.” You walk in fully and show off the plate.

The corner of his lips tug upward slightly. “Thanks,” he mutters while he watches you walk in.

“How was your day?” You query whilst you study his office and look out for anything that will clue you as to what he’s been doing today.

Your dad takes the plate from your hand and actually redirects your question. “How was yours?”

You narrow your gaze and stay quiet for a few seconds, finding his avoidance off, but not questioning it too much yet. “It was…” You sigh and shrug. “Cool. It’s weird.” You smile. “Going to class. Being around so many people my age. I mean some classes are quite boring because I already know what they were teaching, but…I think I like it. I like school.”

Your dad hums softly. “That’s good baby. Wh-what about that chaperone girl?” He wonders. “You make friends with her? She seemed nice.”

“Yeah,” you agree and lean against the wall. “She was nice but she was kind of…weird…she was in and out. At times it feels like she does wanna be my friend, but she then pulls away. Is that normal?”

As your dad takes a bite from his sandwich he drops his gaze and blinks slowly. “Well you're basically strangers, give her some time. Get to know her. Invite her over, or I don’t know, hang out.”

Yeah he is right, you can’t have her be your bestest friend in a day. Maybe you’ll see her at the party, or-or maybe you can hang out the day after! That’d be nice.

“Get this though,” you add excitedly and dig in your sweaters pocket to pull out the party invite. “I got invited to a halloween party!” You hand your dad the paper so he can look at it, and then fiddle with your fingers. “Could I go?”

“Hm,” he hums and then swallows back his food and scoffs in amusement. “Sheet-faced. That’s…funny.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “Not so creative, but can I? I met a guy, he said he’d accompany me. He’d even pick me up.”

Your dads gaze lifts at the mention and rather than picking on the fact that you mentioned a boy, he begins to smirk. “Sure, you can go.”

You beam and clap. “Yay.” You run over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I thought of my costume already…drum roll please!”

Your dad puts the plate down and pats his hands on the handles of his chair.

You skip back away from him, making him follow you with his eyes.

“David Bowie!” You announce. “More specifically, a costume he wore in his The 1980 Floor Show. The one with the nets and fake hands.”

Your dad grabs his plate again and smirks. “I’ll like to see how you pull that off for tomorrow.”

“Don’t doubt me, I can do it. I’ll be the best dressed one there!” You clasp your hands together and swing them down. “Now my keys! Please.”

Your dad sighs deeply before spinning around and swiping your car keys off his desk. “Just be careful, okay? No drinkin’, or you know pumping music to loud.”

Just as you’re about to snatch your keys from his hand you look at him with a growing smile. “Pumping music?” You repeat as you begin to giggle. “Dad?” You shoot him a playful glare.

He throws his hands up and finds nothing wrong with it. “What? I heard someone say it!”

You burst out laughing harder and swipe your keys from him. “I’m gonna go pump music in my room now,” you tease him and laugh louder as you begin to stride out of his office.

Rather than staying in his office your father follows after you whilst he eats his sandwich. “Mhm, I love tomato stems in my sandwich.”

You peer back and click your tongue. “Shoulda made dinner than. Besides vitamins…can’t having you lacking at work. Who’ll keep up with my expensive taste then?”

“College fund,” he muffles with his mouth full of food. “Or drugs. It’s a growing business.”

You giggle and walk into your open room, and throw your keys on your bedside table before you stop by your bed and just look at it.

With all the moving around for his work you’ve actually never had a bed of your own. Never one you can pick out pretty covers for, never one to say “yeah that’s my bed”. You can’t complain about motel beds, or rented homes, but they don’t compare to this, this was yours, your own.

“Now,” you whisper and take your slippers off to jump on your bed. “Tell me,” you add with a grin. “How was your day?” You drag yourself further on the bed and cross your legs to bounce on the bed.

It’s so soft and bouncy, not hard whatsoever. It smells new too, not used and washed by cheap soaps.

“I met with Jim,” he finally shares. “It was…uh…awkward at first, but it was…nice I suppose.”

You scoff and pat the empty space beside you. He doesn’t fret, he puts his plate down and takes the seat beside yours.

However he then gets up and runs to the entrance. You’re about to question him, but he then turns the light off and hurries back to his spot. “Lay back,” he orders.

Your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t question him and do as he asks, seeing he lays back too. Yet seeing him do it only confuses you more.

“So, we—”

“Look up,” he cuts you off.

You draw in a deep breath and flicker your eyes up to the ceiling. That’s when you gasp as you see glowing stars slowly brighten.

“I just thought I’d make this feel like home,” he whispers and turns his head to look at you.

The gesture wasn’t big, they were silly stars that glow in the dark, something for kids, but it means a lot to you that he remembers.

“Do you like them? Or are they embarrassing now?”

You smile in awe and tilt your head down to meet his gaze. “I love them daddy.” You grin happily and look up at the glowing stars again. “Maybe we should have dinner with uncle Jim. Mend what’s broken?”

“I offered,” your dad says with a sigh. “He shut me down, but I did meet up with an old friend, Bob Neeby.”

Oh, right, his nerdy best friend.

“He invited me for lunch tomorrow.”

You hum softly in comprehension, “that’s good. You won’t have to hang out with me all the time now.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is weird.” He jokes.

You laugh softly, and then let a comfortable silence take over but only for a little while.

“So,” he breaks the short silence in a more serious tone this time. “I think this will be my big break.”

Your smile falters as you hear him share what you’ve been after.

“You remember the lab I told you about?”

You nod slowly.

“Well,” he continues. “This lab it’s crazier than I was told. It’s more than just experiments. Get this…a boy is presumed dead, there’s a body and everything, but a few days later he comes out alive and it’s like nothing happened. And a few days after he disappeared, a girl disappeared too around the same area, but she didn't come back,” he sighs.

“I spoke with the parents and they say that she was caught up in something that leaked from the lab. Or that’s what Jim told ‘em. But the weird thing is that there’s no body. She just disappeared close to the lab,” he says almost excitedly.

You let out a shaky breath and slowly look at him with a scared frown. “You believe the leak is true?” You ask in a frightful voice.

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. “No. There’s something more going on. There’s unexplained deaths, missing files…unsolved calls. Someone’s covering shit up,” he deadpans. “I’m here to take it all down though. End it all. There’s evil in that lab. I’ll set things right.”

“And after?” You bring up with hope. “Do we get to settle down?”

Your dad lets out a deep breath and nods. “Yeah. After this we stop moving. I go back to Washington, we find a good home there and we just live.”

You turn your gaze back to the stars and can’t help your hopeful smile. “Promise?” You ask.

“I promise,” he assures you.

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steviewashere · 7 months ago

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This may be a bit out there request (also feel free to ignore) for a small oneshot, but can I request some pure steve angst? him and hop sharing a drink, no ships, just two dudes talking about shitty things that have happened to them over the past few years. My boy desperately needs a father figure.

Okay, I'm so sorry this took so long to answer. I literally started writing it, forgot about it, and then came back and couldn't think of anything. And I also didn't have Hopper share too much, but I hope this suffices some. This was a fun challenge. <3

Pairing: Steve Harrington & Jim "Chief" Hopper CW: Discussion of Canon Traumatic Events, Brief Mention of Canon Violence Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

🫂—————🫂 He’d been sitting outside with his head between his knees for the better part of half an hour when the door creaked open behind him. Even as the footfalls, heavy and slow, made their way towards him, Steve didn’t dare drag his eyes up. Kept them securely at his feet. To the wooden step underneath him. On the off chance that whatever world existed around him was a mirage.

The person sits down next to him with an unceremonious grunt. Their breaths are as heavy as their steps. A swallow clicking in their throat, probably dry and overused. Something chilled is pressed against his denim clad thigh. And that’s when Steve finally draws enough effort to look up.

Hopper sits hunched, head pointed at the trees beyond his cabin, eyes darting between them. In his right hand is an offered, cold bottle of beer. A firm outstretched bridge. And Steve tentatively takes it. He’s not quite old enough to be partaking in this, Hopper should know that, but also—he’s not the chief anymore, is he? So, why should he care?

His beer is already uncapped when he raises it to his face. Knocking it back and taking it in with a deep swallow. The foam churning on his tongue, sugary between his teeth, and moist on his lips. He heaves a sigh. Mutters, “Thanks.”

Another bottle is drank from. The slosh against the sides of the glass an easy sound. Hopper smacks his lips together. “Looked like you needed one,” he states gruffly. A swig. “God knows I did with all that damn commotion in there.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs back, “it’s too loud for me.” He takes a small sip at his drink. Shifts the bottle back and forth between his palms, relishing in the crisp condensation on his skin. Begins to pick at the label where it looks like it’ll peel away easily, if he just gave it his full effort. “I don’t even know why I came over. I can’t stand noisy shit.”

“Feel like the old Steve Harrington that I’ve met would say otherwise,” Hopper muses. Instead of dignifying it with a response, Steve just nods his head in silent agreement. Because yeah, pre-November, 1983 Steve would be doing keg stands and chanting at the top of his lungs. Not moping around on the front porch of the ex-chief of police. Sharing beer of all things.

The noise inside the house floats out from under the crooked front door. A mixture of birdsong and laughter. The subtle soft chirps of crickets beginning to wake up. It’s good outside, the air cold on Steve’s face and the sun nearly set. He takes a deep breath and just absorbs.

“Sometimes,” Hop starts softly when their shared silence stretches too long, “sometimes I look at you and see myself.”

Steve swallows around nothing. “That a good thing?” He asks just as quiet.

“No,” Hopper answers honestly. “You look like you’d rather be under the dirt than be anywhere. There’s…you’re a lonely lookin’ nineteen year old.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well—“ Steve sighs. “—maybe I’d rather that. All things considered, Hopper.” There are eyes on him, he can sense them through the aching joint of his left shoulder. They burn him. It hurts to have attention like this on him, after so much time alone. And he knows that he’s got Robin and the party members—he’ll maybe have Eddie if he pulls through in the hospital. But that doesn’t make his house any less silent, or his parents’ room any less dusty, or his bed any less cold.

“You got anybody you can talk to, kid? Outside of Robin?”

Steve sniffs. Picks at the label on his beer bottle. Tries not to notice his shaking hands. “Who ‘m I gonna talk to?” He asks lowly. “A shrink is gonna think I’m crazy, put me away. And y’know how my parents are. They aren’t going to believe me, let alone listen.”

Hopper’s leg bumps his. Beer bottle clinking against the porch as he sets it down. He ducks down, enough to make direct eye contact with Steve. His eyes are fierce, yet inviting and soft. Steve’s stomach churns. “Talk to me, then. You need an adult who will understand you? I’m right here.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“Anything. Everything. Something, Steve.” A hand lands gently on his shoulder. The warmth a lull, a sweet thing. And something inside of him begins to melt. But he doesn’t say anything, still. Hopper sighs long and winded. And the touch dissipates, leaving Steve drifted and yearning.

Behind them, Hopper’s cabin swells with noise. That raspy laugh of Robin’s. And Mike’s honk snorting. Even Jonathan is adding something, a few loud comments here and there. “I can’t believe we won!” Dustin crows and the others join in intense agreement. And Steve wonders why he can’t celebrate like they can. What happened to him. Where his joy lays in all this.

Hopper sips his beer again, looking out at the trees once more. Smacks his lips together. “I don’t know how to celebrate this shit,” he admits quietly. “I’m…Part of me is excited to not see my girl use those powers of hers again. To hopefully see her hair grow out. But another part of me is—I just remember all the bad shit that happened before we got to this point.”

“Yeah,” Steve croaks. He gulps a good third of his beer in one go. The sour bitterness of the drink burning his throat alive. When he pulls the bottle away, he absentmindedly rubs at the dark red demobat scar on his neck. “Especially when my body remembers and is covered in my failures,” he mutters.

Beside him, Hopper makes a noise of agreement. A hum. A grunt sort of thing. “I used to be a fat guy.” He half-heartedly chuckles. “Now I’m just this skinny dude with real short hair and the eyes of a World War Two soldier.”

Steve snorts. “And I used to have plain, blemish free skin. Now look at me, Hop.” He gestures loosely at his own face and neck when Hopper does turn and look over. “No amount of coconut oil—or whatever—is going to get rid of this shit. Like my mom keeps insisting on. I mean…She doesn’t know all the shit I’ve been through. The—The plate I took to the crown of my head or the needle to my neck or those Russian shitheads that knocked me senseless.”

Hopper’s breath hitches. Steve curses at himself internally. Remembers the haunted body that pulled him in close when they reconvened. Remembers the frantic calls from Jonathan, of all people, asking what to do when it comes to nightmares—“Not mine,” Jonathan had said, “Hop’s. He just…He just yells.” And even remembers the faint hints Hop gave: the relief in finding a jar of peanut butter, the biting cold, the labor, and the cells. The separation from who he used to be. The loneliness within what he’d gone through, which Steve knows all too well. “Russians?” Hopper softly implores anyway.

And part of Steve knows what he’s doing. The crack to his shell deepening, stretching. But he answers despite it all. Keeps his voice leveled, careful as to not be heard from inside the cabin. “Yeah,” he whispers, the syllables cracking. “Robs and Dustin and I, we all decoded this tape, right? There was Russian speech on it or whatever and I ended up finding the source of the intermission. It was coming from underneath Starcourt. So, y’know how stupid we all are, we went ahead and found these assholes and…Well I—“ He rubs the lip of his beer bottle to his own bottom lip. Eyes glossing over, remembering. “They were going to hurt Robin,” he states, his own voice like gravel, “and Dustin. And little Erica. So I did the stupid thing. Answered their interrogation. They didn’t like the answers; I earned a few punches. Went unconscious. Got hit with some truth serum drug bullshit. Threw up my guts, ended up with a concussion, saw a guy die in front of me, went home and threw up again in the shower, and then I went to bed.”

All at once, the world narrows to just them. Hopper’s completely silent though and Steve doesn’t want to glance over. See the pity written on his sullen, aged face. So he shrugs, takes another swig of his beer, and burps lightly when the carbonation comes up. Nonchalance. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Right, Hop?” Steve pokes quietly. “Throw myself in danger for the people around me. Try to keep them on my good side. Show them I’m worth giving a shit about. Save ‘em. Love ‘em for a bit. Wait until they turn on me or whatever.

“I know you do it, too. So don’t try to lecture me,” Steve mutters, “At least we don’t have to do it again.”

He’s not sure what to really expect to any of that. But he doesn’t think he’d ever expect a firm, heavy arm to wrap around his shoulders. To tug him in close and warm. To hold him gently.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hopper murmurs.

Steve tries to pull away, but the hand on his opposite bicep squeezes him back. “It’s not your fault, Hop. It’s—“

“You’re a kid, Steve,” he emphasizes. “A kid with a long fucking life ahead of you. And you’ve already seen enough for, well, for lifetimes. You should’a never been in any of this shit, none of you teens should’a. Not just those Russians, Steve. But for everything.”

He doesn’t feel like a kid. Doesn’t really feel like anything, but Hopper doesn’t need to know that right now. Sure, he’d understand. That liminal space after losing his daughter, right after war, before his world quite literally turned upside down—Hopper lived that nothingness for a long while. Maybe he lives it again, Steve isn’t sure.

But he just sighs. “You shouldn’t have been there, either,” Steve murmurs. His face is warm and his eyes sting. And before he really knows what’s happening, he’s crying. Hot tears that sear all the way down to the underside of his jaw. That don’t really produce much noise from him, but he supposes the terrible stuttering in and out is something.

“C’mere, kid,” Hopper mutters.

His beer gets set aside somewhere. Pulled even further in. Head nestled on Hopper’s shoulder, the fresh shave of his beard burning on Steve’s forehead. A hand between his shoulder blades and the other on the back of his head. Steve’s arms sit limp at his sides. But within Hop’s warmth, the musk of aftershave and Irish Spring soap, and his firm and careful hold—Steve finally breaks.

It’s not a catastrophic thing, like he had expected. It’s not all that quiet either.

Shoulders shaking, eyes heavy, and nose burning—Steve cries. Cries with the force of a sudden summer downpour. Heaves giant breaths as if he’s just come up from drowning. And he sobs against the bare skin of Hopper’s neck. Open mouthed. Wet exhales. Big globs of spit sticky between his lips.

When he can finally catch his breath, feel the exhaustion into his bones, he pulls back.

Hopper lays his hands on either side of Steve’s face. His own cheeks wet with tears. Sniffling. “I know, okay? I know, kid,” he says quietly. “You need a home to run to? A shoulder to cry on? You just need a good dad hug? Come over, okay? Steve, you just gotta come over.”

And with that, all Steve can do, is give in.

He cries again into Hopper’s shoulder.

Later, he’ll listen to Hopper in turn. Hug him just as fiercely. Laugh at the absurdity of it all. But this is nice. Just this for a little while longer.

For the first time in his life, though, he feels like he’s got a home to return to. An ear to hear him. And a heart to care about him.

🫂—————🫂 Thank you for the ask, this was an interesting one!

#stranger things #steve harrington #jim hopper #steve harrington & jim hopper #angst and hurt/comfort

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t0ast-ghost · 8 months ago

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S2 episode 25 (Bread And Circuses) oh goodness oh my. I’m not ready. I’m so ready.

Okay get ready:

- They’re all standing on the enterprise bridge completely still. As if in tableau.

- Of course they’re beaming down to a dangerous planet with only the top three officers. Why even use reason at this point.

- Kirk outside the ship in his green shirt <3 (I keep thinking of it as his pjs)

- McCoy is very hostile towards Spock today. Hope they don’t get put in a situation with sharp objects…

- “Once, just once, I’d like to land someplace and say, ‘behold, I am the archangel Gabriel.’” “I fail to see the humour in that situation, Doctor.” “Naturally. You could hardly claim to be an angel with those point ears, Mr. Spock. But say you landed someplace with a pitchfork.” This is proving my theory that they’re the angel and devil on Kirk’s shoulders

- “We come from another… province.” Canadian moment

- “What do you call those?” “I call them ears.” There is no end to Spock’s audacity

- “Captain, I thought you might find this interesting.” Spock hands Kirk a newspaper with a shirtless man on the cover

- “Will you help us?” No one can outright deny this twunk

- Spock in a hat

- McCoy in a regular short sleeve shirt and bell bottom pants is <3

- no words for this one

- it’s like this episodes message is mirroring our own world or something… nah

- McCoy is already picking fights. Spock is indulging him. They’re not enemies to lovers. They’re enemies AND lovers.

- McCoy not afraid to slap a bitch

- So Merrick killed all of his crew… right?

- McCoy and Spock just flirting (debating) in public

- AND they threatened McCoy and Spock

- As Jim takes the communicator to assumedly order the crew down he has a shit eating grin… so it’s safe to assume he’s not gonna do that

- “Must you always be so blasted honest?!”

- He’s just talking on his cellphone

- Scotty is talking to his diary, Uhura is listening

- Jim is so scared for what’s about to happen

- McCoy and Spock about to face off against two shirtless men

- “I don’t mind fighting but… why you?” That gladiator took one look at them and went, ‘why are they making us fight these two nerds?’

- Camera goes to McCoy -> sound guy ups the catcalls

- I love Spock fighting really hard in the background and McCoy just.. he don’t want to

- “Do you need any help, Doctor?” “What ever gave you that idea?” “[random gladiator]Fight, you pointed eared freak!” “You tell him, buster! Of all the completely… ridiculous, illogical questions I ever heard in my life!” Then Bones falls on his ass and Spock comes to his rescue, happily ever after

- Those pants make Kirk’s ass look flat… unfair

- Spock trying to break the bars while McCoy sits in the most strange way possible

- Spock has tried to get them out the same way fifteen times. He wants his boyfriends safe.

- Me: awww McCoy and Spock having a genuine moment… nope they can’t last ten seconds (maybe they are divorced)

- McCoy pins Spock against the wall of the cell to make his point

- Spock’s pouty expression…

- “Why you wouldn’t know what to do with a genuine warm decent feeling.” “Really doctor?” They’re giving each other ‘fuck me’ eyes

- Their fight ended with “I’m worried about Jim too” like McCoy knows Spock feels emotions but represses them and is ‘trying’ to understand him

- Kirk, I implore you not to kiss this woman- that went out the window so fast

- Never mind what I said about the pants making his ass flat. I was severely wrong. Forgive me.

- KIRK STRAIGHT UP KILLED THOSE GUYS

- Ohhh Merrick stole the communicator

- Kirk giving commendation to Scotty for not breaking the prime directive is priceless. ‘Good self control, Mr Scott.’

- I love how Spock and McCoy are both saying things about Flavius (agreeing with each other)and as soon as Spock speaks about studying the sun religion, McCoy looks like he’s going to explode

I both like and hate the relationship they have with Spock and McCoy in this one cause it’s so magnetic but I don’t know if it’ll ever be evolved past this and that makes me sad.

Masterpost

Episode written by Gene Roddenberry and Gene L. Coon

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #tos spock #leonard bones mccoy #tos bones #tos mccoy #captain james kirk #tos kirk

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grace-aline · 3 months ago

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Why I think Bob Newby had to die (part 2)

Make way for Jopper!

Listen. I’m as into shipping ST characters as much as the next Byler. Edits, fanart, fanfiction. Can’t get enough of that shit. Shipping is such a good, positive lens to watch the show through, and my GOD does it bring out some incredible analysis and literary criticism in the fandom.

I feel like I should preface this post by saying that, although I’m very fond of Bob, I’m not anti-Jopper by any stretch of the imagination. Hats off to those who are, but unfortunately I think that fighting Jopper is a bit like fighting the tide going out; like it or not, it’s probably going to happen. Canon Jopper definitely has its issues, don't get me wrong, but it’s exactly that; canon. It’s the most logical, inevitable endgame outcome at this stage, and I don’t think that’s likely to change.

However. I do think that Jim Hopper’s presence in the show was enough to write Bob’s death warrant.

Because from the minute Bob steps onto screen, bridging the gap from extra to character the longer the camera remains trained on his cheerful, innocent face, the same kind of inevitably follows him. Not the inevitability of his death, per say, but certainly a sense that somewhere in writing headquarters, an egg timer has been flipped on Bob and Joyce’s relationship, and that their time together is now counting down. In Beyond Stranger Things, the Duffers talk at length about Bob as being Joyce's "dorky boyfriend" who ultimately “...was always- he was always going to eat it.”

Joyce and Hopper, on the other hand, are one of those duos who are written with a implied degree of romantic certainty from the very beginning of the show. The eye contact, the bickering, the way she calls him ‘Hop’. We as viewers are given the ability to speculate as to their history from their first scene together; when Joyce arrives at the police station to report Will missing. From episode one, season one, they’re looking at each other like this:

It's not necessarily overt, but I don't think it's too much of a stretch to say that there is implied history between the pair. When you watch this scene, you also just. Get the general sense that Hopper is going out of his way to help Joyce? I know, I know, Hopper is initially very dismissive of Joyce’s concerns. But the way Joyce is able to talk her way into meeting with the Chief of Police, the way that Hopper himself organises searches and takes time out of his day to meet with and give Joyce personal updates… I guess you could argue that, being Police Chief in a small town, Hopper doesn’t have anything better to be doing with his time. But it’s not like he's only doing the bare minimum for her and Will, and we don’t see him answering early morning callouts or searching through the night for Barbara and Cindy Holland, for example. To me, it definitely reads as Joyce getting special treatment from Hopper.

It's not just us viewers speculating, though. Throughout the show, multiple side characters assume or otherwise divine the fact that Joyce and Hopper have unfinished business together. After defending Joyce to his officers and storming off, Callaghan remarks to Powell that “Her and the Chief have screwed before, right?”, Doctor Owens assumes that Hopper is Will’s “Pop”, and Murray gives the pair a fair earful when he finds out that they’re not dating: “...why don't you two cut the horseshit and get to the part where you admit your sexual feelings for one another?... And now, rather than admit these feelings, you're dancing around one another with this mind-numbing, frankly boorish mating ritual." Even Alexei, who has like half an hour of screen time total and has only known Joyce and Hopper for a couple of days, is shocked by the fact that “They have not had sex?”

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that any viewer or character with even an ounce of media literacy can tell that the Duffers establish Joyce and Hopper’s slow burn romance from very early on in the show. Despite their personal obliviousness (or perhaps more likely, their unwillingness to acknowledge the elephant in the room), there are a few key scenes in which even Joyce and Hopper themselves acknowledge the tension between them.

Bringing us back to season 2, though, what I’m most interested in are their interactions in 02x01: MADMAX. (I think it’s important to look at the series of moments between Joyce and Hopper here as being accumulatively damning to Bob, rather than individual scenes which could mean nothing on their own.) Keep in mind also that this is the first time we’re seeing Hopper and Joyce interact this season; the last we saw them together, they were on a high-stakes mission to bring Will back from the dead. First, Owens mistakes Jim for Will’s father, a mistake he continually makes throughout the series.(I'm thinking about the way that he later addresses/defers to Hopper’s wishes for Will, rather than Bob, and the way that he pulls Hopper, rather than Bob, aside to explain that Will is infected by a parasitic host.) As they depart the lab, Hopper and Joyce have an interaction which is slightly tense and defensive, respectively. After a pause, Hopper asks, “How’s, uh, Bob the Brain?”, not meeting Joyce’s eye, his tone faux-casual. Joyce replies, perhaps a little too quickly, saying, "Don't call him that... He’s good! We’re good.” Her tone has no real bite to it, though. Not long after this chronologically, but in the next episode (2x02: Trick or Treat, Freak) Joyce and Hopper share a cigarette back at her house. After discussing Joyce’s concern about Will’s worsening condition, they move on to (dangerous) reminiscences:

“Brings me back to old times.” "What?" "Well. Sharing my cigarettes between-" "Fifth and sixth period.” "Yeah, under the steps. Mr. Cooper caught us that time, remember? He was like ‘hey, assholes...’” “-we ran, we just ran.”

They laugh together, and then pause, holding one another’s eye contact as the music takes on a slightly melancholy tone. And I know, I know, eye contact isn’t concrete evidence. But just look at the way that they’re looking at each other:

As viewers, I think the Duffers want us to read into the subtext of this interaction; that is to say, what isn’t being said rather than what is. The Duffers want us to, in hindsight, rewatch the scene and see Hopper’s jealous curiousity, Joyce’s playful banter and obvious connection with Hopper despite her ongoing relationship with Bob.

So, Joyce and Hopper’s connection to one another is carefully and clearly established from the beginning. Let’s look at the suitors vying for Joyce's attention, then.

Hopper is a man of action, a man of impulsive decision and a blustery kind of confidence. Being ex-military and generally just fairly quick off the mark, he has a talent for coming out on top of whatever challenge is thrown his way. On top of this, we as an audience are expected, even encouraged to prefer him as a potential suitor because we spend more time with him, and because his character arc is more satisfying. There’s more meat, more complexity to a character who starts out carefully written to be somewhat unlovable in season one. You have to work to like him, work to see his perspective and appreciate how his past, intentionally fed to us in touching, accumulative flashbacks, informs his current approach to relationships. When season 2 opens, we see soft spots, fleetingly, in the way he takes El in, feeding her and clothing her and keeping her alive. We see a soft spot in the way he is implied to have gone with Joyce to every single one of Will’s appointments and in telling her to “…call me first” if she’s worried about Will. In other words, Hopper’s usefulness in dangerous, high pressure situations, when combined with his slow character growth, gives him this inherently endearing quality to audiences. If you didn’t start an outright Hopper fan, maybe you didn't necessarily want to like him, but you knew that characters needed and relied on him; and slowly, slowly, he grew on you too. Maybe not, I don't know. But that's my interpretation.

By contrast, and intentionally I think, Bob fails where Hopper succeeds. He isn’t as smooth or as quick-witted as Hopper. For example, he is frequently shown making verbal blunders, such as being too forward with Joyce by telling her he wants to move out of Hawkins with her, or giving Will poor advice regarding his episodes. On a more mundane level, a lot of his lines are framed in such a way as to make him come across as a little bit socially tone-deaf, unaware of the potential cause for embarrassment in phrases like “sneaky little buggers”, “the Bob-mobile”, or who could forget, *vampiric accent* “I hope it doesn’t suck!” And sure, Bob’s manner of speech is endearing in its own way, but what I’m trying to convey is that, unlike Hopper, it comes with a catch; we as viewers can’t help but cringe a little at him, even as we smile. The central characters are no different, either. Below are actual, real-time reactions to Bob:

Also unlike Hopper, Bob is less situationally and physically adept. He’s got his brains, but he doesn’t know how to use a gun, he doesn’t stand up to Owens and the other Doctors when they're mistreating Will and he ultimately fails to get out of the Lab, a character flaw which costs him his life.

From an even closer reading, just look at the way Hopper and Bob grate against one another in the Lab, one of their first and also one of their last scenes in the same room. To the absolute credit of scripting and acting choices in the scene, Hopper is fiercely calm and focused on the logistics of their escape, while Bob appears out of his depth from the way he gets uncharacteristically snarky with Jim, the way that his breathing is louder and more erratic than the other characters', and even Bob's comedically awkward stance as he tries to help Hopper to raid one of the dead guards:

I think there’s also something to be said about their obvious height difference. Sean Astin, who plays Bob, stands at around 5”6 inches, meaning that David Harbour, who plays Hopper, towers over Bob at approximately 6”2 inches. Now obviously height differences don’t actually, materially matter, but I think the way that Hopper physically dominates and intimidates Bob in his greater height and stronger build is meant to be another, subtler indicator that Bob is in over his head, quite literally.

And then, once he’s alone, Bob’s panic escalates, visibly sweating profusely as he starts to make regular, fatal mistakes. He leaves the gun behind in the basement, he knocks over a broom, alerting a Demodog to his hiding place. And of course, he stops running too soon in the reception hall, ultimately leading to his demise. Helpfully, the Duffers make sure you don’t miss any of these slip-ups with the use of an ominous zoom and a carefully timed stinger on the abandoned gun, and the way the broom falls in a dramatic, almost comic slow motion.

It would have been much quicker and more efficient for them to just hold up a big sign that says, “Bob is weak compared to Hopper guys! He’s not cut out for Joyce’s lifestyle!”

And listen. I’m not saying that I think Bob deserved to die for being unable to match Hopper’s cool-headedness or his combat skills. But I do think that the Duffers exaggerated Bob’s gentle goofiness at times, so that when standing next to Hopper, fans know that ultimately Hopper will replace him.

Interestingly, David Harbour confirms my theory in the Beyond Stranger Things documentary, which covered the filming of Season One and Two: “Does Hopper think that Bob and Joyce are a good match? I would say absolutely not. I mean look, I get the impulse that she’s following in terms of like… she was clearly in a very destructive relationship with Lonnie, and she’s clearly very protective of Will. And so she’s sort of chosen this guy that’s going to be… very nice to her, very nice to Will, and be a kind of good, dorky father figure.” He then goes into how he thinks that ultimately, Joyce and Hopper are “…two really lonely, lost people that really need each other.” “The short answer,” he goes on to summarise, “is I do feel like the sex will be a lot better with Hopper than it is with Bob.”

Hard to know what to say after that one, so there you have it. Another reason why Bob Newby had to die.

#stranger things #bob newby #joyce byers #jim hopper #grace yaps #let me know what you guys think! There are sooo many different readings of the show and the motives of central characters so like #feel free to disagree with me! that's okay! that's the beauty of interpretation!#believe it or not I still have more of these to come. I'm not done yet

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thecoddaughter · 1 year ago

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Jimmy's Memory Drabble

Y’all said I could post drabble, then AO3 came back! (Thank you, volunteers! Our saviors!) So, I probably won’t post that many, except the fully unserious and jokey ones. I apologize for the absolute nonsense meme this will be but it literally haunted me in my sleep.

[headcannon this is based around: the Evo folk still have any marks, scars, and stuff from that world, no matter where they go… Also, out of everyone from Evo, Jimmy’s memory wanes.]

Scott sat next to Jimmy, checking for any wounds. Slowly rolling up his shelves and examining his arm, Scott stopped in silence.

“Jim, darling, who is Morty?”

Jimmy blinked. “Morty?”

“You have a tattoo with a heart that says Morty. So, is this something I have to worry about?” Scott said, not letting go of his partner’s hand.

For a moment, just a moment, Jimmy couldn’t recall knowing anyone named Morty. Just for a moment though, then all the pain rushed through his bones and a tear welled up.

“No… he was a friend a long time ago but we parted ways. I always cared a little bit more about him I think…” He didn’t want to confess the unrequited live he fought for years as his eyes wandered over the hill to where Dogwarts sat. “You don’t have to worry one bit.”

The Southerners were proud of their connection, but there was always a lack of trust within the group. Whispers. Side teams. Jimmy was glad he was on a team with Martin and Grian this time. Maybe it meant he would survive. Maybe it didn’t… That was the thought he had once Grian was exiled and he grabbed at the extra life as if it was the only way to be. Martyn followed him out of the camp, saying he’d run away with him. Saying all he had to do was give him the life.

“It could you and me again, Pete…”

Jimmy frowned. “Don’t… Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I saw the tattoo when you were building your tower.” Martyn moved closer, but Jim stepped back, grasping his upper arm. “It could be us again, just give me the life back.”

“Yeah, okay!”

Martyn smiled, stepping back. “Thanks for that, Bills. Now get out.”

“What?”

“You can’t be serious?! You believed that?”

Jim blinked. “I always believe you.”

“Wow, maybe that’s why you are always such an easy target for them.”

Jimmy looked up at the sky. “Don’t!”

“Whatever! Don’t come back.”

Jimmy squeezed his arm. “Fine by me!”

By the end of a long day in the hot sun, Jimmy sat in the shade. The blue flannel he normally sported wrapped around his waist. Tango slouched down next to him, resting his head on his partner’s shoulder.

“You have a tattoo?” Tango’s voice strained.

Jimmy looked down at his arm. He had forgotten about that awful thing. He had a tendency to wear longer sleeves, now he was just in a tank. The silly little tattoo was more heartbreaking the sentimental these days and yet he always forgot he had it.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I totally forgot about it…”

“How do you forget about a tattoo?”

“I don’t know… I got it so long ago.”

“So, who is this Morty guy?”

The words hung in the air like a blasting potion. Jimmy scrunched his nose at the name.

“It was just a joke between me and a friend,” He said but he couldn’t look his soulbound in the eyes. “We don’t even talk anymore.”

“Oh… Where is he now?”

Jimmy’s gaze fell on the poorly structured heart in the middle of the river’s pass. “No idea.”

Grian sat on the bread bridge next to Jimmy. “So, how are things with you, Tim?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I see you longingly looking toward the Mean Gills base.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, come on. I know you wished Martyn would partner up with you. You miss him.” Grian poked Jimmy’s shoulder, right were the tattoo was. “You still got that old thing?”

Jimmy rolled his sleeve up and nodded. “I wish I didn’t. I always forget about it and every death game someone points it out.”

“Is your memory really that bad? How much from back then do your remember?”

“You know the Watchers hate me.”

“Well, they hate me too. I remember everything.”

“That’s different, G. You are one of them. Same with Pearl. Martyn is blessed by the Listeners. BigB seems to not have any worries, they leave him be.” Jimmy pulled his knees to his chest. “But me… I’m the little bird they love to strangle.”

“Do you want me to get rid of the tattoo?”

Jimmy looked at the little heart and the unused name, then back out at the ocean. “No… It might just be the only thing that makes me not forget.”

“Okay. Let’s go find Joel.”

“Sure.”

#trafficblr #traffic life smp #flower husbands #the ranchers #solidarity gaming #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #tangotek #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #inthelittlewood #evo watchers #evo listeners

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out-of-control · 1 year ago

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BOUND

PREV: RED

NEXT: MULE

words: 4066

warnings: alcohol, explicit sex

summary: jax drags jim to a party, but jim has some other things on his mind.

The party has shitty music and mediocre drinks, and Jax is familiar with maybe three people in the house, just so long as you don't count Jim, who had fluttered off to explore the setting almost as soon as they'd gotten through the door, even though Jax had had to nearly beg him to come along in the first place. Jax doesn't really care where Jim is, though; at the moment he's totally engrossed in some poor drunken idiot's attempts to stop repeatedly driving their tiny cartoon go-kart off a bridge. He gazes at the lower leftmost box on the TV screen, feeling kind of emotionally invested in the player's dauntless perseverance in the face of futility. That, or he's just drunk enough to be getting totally mesmerized by moving shapes and colors. Either way, Jax is more or less content.

He gets startled out of his contemplation by an object that takes him a couple of seconds to recognize as Jim’s arm being roughly thrown over his shoulder, and then Jim's nose is brushing against his ear and Jim's breath is hot on the side of his face and suddenly the plight of the stupid little car is totally fucking dead to Jax. Destabilized, he sways under Jim's weight, Jim’s cigarette burning inches from his cheek as he finds his footing.

“I want to tie you up and tease you until you’re about to cry with how desperate you are for me to fuck you,” Jim murmurs, apropos of absolutely fucking nothing.

An electric sort of shiver skitters down Jax's spine. His next moves are a no-brainer.

He gulps down another mouthful of warm beer and snakes an arm around Jim's waist, turning his head so that they're nearly kissing. He flicks his gaze down to Jim's mouth, then up to his eyes, bottle-green in the low lighting. "Yeah?” Jax whispers. “Then what?”

Jim takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke right into Jax’s face. He doesn’t seem to think long before giving his response. “I want to rail you so hard you try to scream, so I shove your face into the pillow before you even get the chance and keep you there.” His voice is low, his words for Jax alone. "While I fuck you even harder."

Jax curls a finger in one of Jim's belt loops. "Then what?"

“Then when you’re right on the edge," Jim says softly, almost gently, "I’ll pull out and leave you to desperately try to get yourself off while I watch you.”

For a second, Jax can see it– Jim above him, staring down with eyes half-lidded, Jax burning and desperate below him. He turns his body and curls towards Jim, resting both arms over Jim's shoulders, like they're slow-dancing at senior prom. He bites gently at the corner of Jim's jaw and says, in a low, soft tone that curls up at the ends: "So why don't you?"

Jim smiles at that, and Jax can't even see the look in his eyes, hidden as they are behind his hair. Jim leans in, licking a stripe up the side of Jax's neck before whispering in his ear: "It's more fun this way." Then, as suddenly as he appeared, he shucks Jax's arms off his shoulders and walks away into the bustle of the party.

Jax watches him leave, and lets him disappear. For now.

–

The party is still in full swing by the time Jax decides he's had enough. Before he can leave, however, he has to collect something.

The hunt leads Jax around the whole house, stumbling up and down staircases and peering around corners. Jax finds him, finally, pouring himself another drink while eyeing a riveting game of flip cup. Jax marches right over and snags the collar of Jim's jacket, pulling him around. Jim, caught off guard, trips a little before catching himself and blinking owlishly at Jax.

"Hey," Jax says, stepping in close, "you're staying over tonight."

A smirk makes its way across Jim’s lips. He casts his eyes downward, reaches out a finger and runs it along the strip of skin peeking out from below the hem of Jax’s shirt. “Am I now.”

Hairs stand up on the back of Jax's neck. "You fucking bet you are," he rasps, trying not to let the shiver into his voice.

Jim doesn’t look away, his fingertip still barely grazing Jax’s skin. “Well that’s so kind of you.”

"Yeah," Jax whispers, "I'm a real good guy."

“Yeah,” Jim echoes, cutting his gaze up to meet Jax’s eyes with a, frankly, goofy grin. “Real good lookin’.”

Jax blinks, simultaneously shocked and furious that a line as stupid as that is actually working on him. Desperately, he tries to come up with something devastatingly cool to say in return, but the heat he’s feeling in his face must also be cooking his brain because the best he's got is: "Yeah, well– You fucking– you too. Asshole. Whatever."

Jim snorts. “Smooth,” is all he says, pulling his finger away to slip his hand into Jax’s back pocket instead.

–

The whole walk home, Jax feels like he’s vibrating. Side by side, step by step, in studiously casual silence, occasionally exchanging insubstantial comments about strangers back at the party– as if Jim hadn’t been muttering Jax’s own fantasies into his ear in the middle of a crowded house just a couple of hours ago. The booze might have worn Jax’s edges down, but the anticipation is spiking them all up again. He has to remember to breathe evenly as he picks his way along the sidewalk, every block taking him closer to what he knows is coming to him.

Jim goes up the stairs ahead of Jax, as self-assured as if it was his own apartment to which he was returning. He steps inside the apartment first, too, scarcely waiting for Jax to finish with the keys before he’s placing a palm flat on the face of the door and pushing it fluidly inwards.

Jax follows him.

The door has hardly clicked shut behind Jax’s back before Jim spins around, grabs him by the shoulders, and slams him backwards against it. Jax just barely keeps himself from moaning as his back collides roughly with the door, though any sound would have been lost regardless as Jim quickly covers Jax's mouth with his own.

Jax readily shucks off his jacket, with Jim breaking them apart just enough to tug Jax’s shirt over his head. With one arm braced across Jax's sternum, Jim fumbles with Jax's belt buckle. One jerk of his arm yanks the belt half of the way out of Jax's belt loops; a second finishes the job and leaves Jim with the black leather strap dangling from his fingers. Jax is grabbed by the shoulder and roughly turned around, Jim pinning Jax in place with his own shoulder as he takes Jax's wrists in one hand and wraps the belt around and around them with the other, tightly securing the buckle. It makes Jax a little crazy to think about Jim remembering the things that do it for Jax like this, so instead he allows the wavelengths of his arousal to amplify until they drown out all his thoughts. Well. Almost all his thoughts.

"So?" Jax can't help panting, cheek pressed against the door, heart racing. "You going to put your money where your mouth is?" he asks, as Jim shimmies Jax's pants down enough for him to step out of them and kick off his boots.

“Get on your knees,” Jim says in a low, stern voice once Jax is naked, apparently indifferent to anything Jax might have to say about this whole situation, which shouldn’t be hot to Jax, yet absolutely is.

Blood rushing in his ears, Jax turns around and gets on his knees– but then, rather than wait for any further instructions, he simply closes his eyes, leans forward, and presses his open mouth against Jim's belt buckle, a reverential, filthy kiss. Then he drags his lips lower, mouthing carefully at Jim through the fabric of his jeans, breathing him in. Jim runs a hand down the side of Jax’s head, alongside his mohawk. Then he traces back, over Jax’s jawline, curling his fingers under Jax’s chin to tilt his face upwards a little, as he gently pushes the pad of his thumb into the center of Jax's lower lip. Jax lets his jaw fall open, and Jim slips his thumb inside.

Jax briefly presses the side of his face against Jim’s hip, breathing deeply through his nose, before leaning back so Jim can switch his thumb for two fingers. Look at how good I could make you feel, Jax thinks in Jim’s direction, sucking diligently at the fingers moving in and out of his mouth. Look at how good I can be for you. Jim tilts his head and slides his fingers in deeper, Jax closing his eyes and letting out a moan in response.

Jim removes his hand. Jax keeps his mouth open, a drop of saliva hanging from his bottom lip. Jim unzips his jeans.

A few minutes into what Jax was considering a pretty good blowjob, Jim starts rummaging in his pockets with one hand, the other still gripping Jax’s hair firmly. Above his head, Jax hears the familiar whisper-scrape of metal striking flint.

Jax peeks upwards, at just the right time to watch Jim take a drag from a cigarette and blow the smoke up towards the ceiling, tendons in his neck pulled taut. Jim looks back down then, and roughly pulls Jax further down onto his cock by the hair. Jim kicks his hips forward, and Jax feels his own dick twitch as Jim rams down his throat, as his eyes begin to water, as he struggles to keep his balance with his arms bound, as his knees begin to seriously complain about the unforgiving wood floor, as the smell of smoke fills his head so strongly he thinks he must be imagining some of it.

They fall into a rhythm, forceful but steady, rocking together for a while, until Jim abruptly pulls himself away; Jax can't keep from making a sound that, maybe, possibly, could perhaps be described as a whine. But that's as close as he gets to a complaint, because in an instant Jim has dragged him up by the elbow and is hauling him across the room, through the bedroom door, and onto the mattress.

Jax squirms on top of the sheets; his bound arms make lying on his back awkward, and he struggles to sit up enough to look down the length of the bed at Jim. Jim stubs his cigarette out on Jax’s desk, and then just stands there, looking at him. "Christ," Jax pants, urgent, hard as a fucking rock, "come on, let's do this."

Jim slips off his jacket, abandoning it on the floor as he crawls up the bed after Jax. He doesn’t go very far though, befuddling Jax by simply lying down on the bed and resting his face against the inside of Jax’s thigh. Modestly, he even does his jeans back up.

"Hey, what the hell," Jax says.

“What,” Jim replies, gazing innocently up at Jax with big green eyes, “didn’t I tell you I wanted to tease you for hours?” He gently skates a finger up the skin on Jax's other thigh– and no further.

"Asshole," Jax whines, as his Judas of a dick throbs between his legs, in response to nothing more than the cadence of Jim's voice and a mostly-chaste brush of skin against skin.

Jim simply hums in acknowledgement, shuffling around on the bed a little to hold Jax’s legs apart as he starts sucking a hickey into the inside of Jax’s thigh, just inches from his dick.

"Fuck, come on," Jax pleads, chest heaving, arms folded awkwardly underneath his body. Jim is so close, if he could just–

Jim sinks his teeth into Jax’s flesh.

"Fucking asshole," Jax gasps, "Come on–"

And then Jim seems to decide Jax is being a little too noisy, because he reaches up and very rudely sticks his fingers back into Jax’s mouth. Jax bites them– softly– but then he can't really resist the urge to suck on them instead. Jim, in turn, goes back to mouthing at Jax’s skin.

The whole intricate web of nerves scattered across Jax's body seems to shift and condense down to a little patch of flesh on the inside of Jax's right thigh. He gasps and arcs, and allows Jim to drive him further and further out of his mind.

Jim nips at Jax’s thigh one last time before sitting up, eyeing Jax for a second before he uses his other hand to knead one of Jax’s nipples, pinching and rolling surgical steel through flesh. His eyes burn against Jax's skin as Jax writhes on the bed, moaning quietly around his fingers. Jim leaves Jax’s nipple alone after a few minutes to rummage through the nightstand, and Jax can feel his own heart rate pick up when he hears the drag of Jim’s zipper fucking finally being undone.

Jim takes his fingers out of Jax’s mouth, moves both hands to the back of Jax’s knees, and bends him in half. For a second, they just eye each other: Jim completely focused and Jax unraveled. And then, slowly, Jim presses inside, watching Jax’s face intently, like a cat about to pounce. A little flustered, Jax opts to simply shut his eyes, to escape more fully into his sense of touch rather than sight as he acclimates himself to the always-novel experience of having another person inside of his body. Jim pauses, keeping still for a minute as Jax adjusts before moving against him, agonizingly slow.

"Faster," Jax whispers, eyes still shut tight. "Just a little…"

“Say please,” Jim whispers back.

"Asshole," Jax breathes, rolling his eyes beneath their lids, then undercuts himself by saying: "Please." Jim obliges, moving ever so slightly faster, then faster, then faster, until he lets go of Jax’s legs to grip tightly at Jax’s hips, the fabric of his jeans rubbing roughly against Jax’s thighs. Jax hooks a leg around Jim’s back; for a little while, he wishes he could reach out, grip at Jim’s shirt and pull it over his head and rove his hands over his skin and scars and tattoos, but then he's not wishing for much of anything too complicated at all.

"Christ, I'm gonna come," Jax huffs, shoulders twingeing, eyes shut tight as he rocks along with Jim's movements.

Movements which promptly come to a complete stop.

Jax, naturally, starts cussing Jim out immediately.

Jim, if anything, appears to be gleeful about this.

"Fuck you," Jax swears, "Fuck you and your whole everything, fuck the fucking horse you rode in on–"

“You asked me why I wasn’t doing any of that at the party,” Jim interrupts, separating himself from Jax. “Now I’m doing it.” He turns his attention away from Jax, starts working his hand on his own cock, positioned right between Jax’s thighs and not touching him.

No fucking way. Absolutely not. Jax clamps his legs tight around Jim, holding Jim's arms against his sides as Jax tries sort of fruitlessly to rub his dick on whatever part of Jim might be available. Unfortunately for Jax, it doesn’t take long for Jim to free himself, and he strikes quickly, pinning Jax’s hips down tight against the mattress.

“God, look at you,” Jim remarks, eyes wild, voice low, like he's reverent of the spectacle in front of him, which is, of course, simply Jax, naked and sweaty and aching and so turned on he feels like he might die from it. “You’re such a desperate little whore for me, aren’t you.”

A bolt of arousal travels down Jax's spine and right into his cock as Jim speaks. "Yes, fine, fuck you," Jax half-yells, struggling in Jim's grip. He goes on, spitting profanities and pleas for Jim to fuck him again in equal proportions. He squirms with his wrists bound, shoulders taut and wrists chafed, and his dick vehemently vertical the whole time.

Then, Jim proposes: “Be nice and I’ll fuck you again.”

"Fuck you," Jax blurts reflexively, before snapping his jaw, closing his eyes, and breathing out through his nose.

He does like to put up a good fight. Half the fun is in putting up a good fight. But maybe he's chewed at the leash for long enough tonight. Maybe, he's ready to really submit.

"Okay," Jax says after a pause. "Okay, Jim, I'll be nice. I'll be good, please."

“Promise?”

"I promise," Jax breathes, chest heaving as he stares Jim down. He wants Jim terribly, in this moment.

“Good boy,” Jim says sweetly, and rewards Jax with a kiss. He shuffles around on the bed, giving another kiss to the very tip of Jax’s cock before bodily flipping him over, onto his stomach. Jax feels Jim’s hands rove over Jax’s back and shoulders, before that's replaced with the sensation of Jim's body weight pressing down on him. “Being so good for me,” he murmurs into Jax’s ear, and Jax thinks that maybe, he could die here, and it might not even be so bad. Jim fastens his teeth into Jax’s shoulder, at once sinking back inside Jax with an exhale. Then Jim sits up, plants a hand on the back of Jax’s head, presses his face into the mattress, and starts fucking him in earnest.

Jax takes it all, arms twisted behind his back and cheek flat against the sheets and leather cutting into his wrists and the next time he feels like he's going to come, he remembers to be nice about it.

"Jim, please, please can I come now," he hiccups, his cock rubbing back and forth against the sheets.

Jim reaches around Jax, finally putting a hand on him and says, simply, "Come for me."

Jax comes. Stomach clenched, sweat beading all over his body, arms twisted, Jax comes for Jim.

“That’s it,” Jim murmurs, stroking Jax through it, slower and slower. “That’s it.” Jim lets Jax’s breathing even out before pulling out and slipping a palm under the center of Jax’s chest to pull him upright. Shuffling backwards a little, Jim carefully takes Jax’s wrists in his hands and starts unwinding the leather. Jax closes his eyes as the tension melts from his shoulders, his body feeling achy and warm and still buzzing a little all over.

When Jim finishes, discarding the belt on the floor with a clink, Jax laces his fingers together and stretches his arms above his head: one long, glorious stretch that is not entirely unlike a second orgasm. And then he twists around and reaches a hand between Jim's legs, eager to return the favor. Jim wraps a hand around the back of Jax’s head and pulls him in close, kissing him long and slow. They stay like that, on their knees on top of Jax’s twin mattress, kissing more and more fervently as Jax works his hand, until:

“I’m close,” Jim pants against Jax’s mouth.

Two things happen in quick succession.

First, Jax stops moving his hand immediately.

Then, Jim shoves Jax backwards onto the mattress, straddling his chest and grabbing his hair in one swift movement. “I can fuck your throat instead,” he threatens breathlessly, green eyes blazing down at Jax through wisps of brown hair.

"Oh no," Jax breathes, grinning up at him. "I'd fucking hate that."

–

Jax could lie here, loosely tangled together with Jim in his bed forever, he thinks. To be honest, that’s essentially the whole plan at the moment. To lie here, skin to skin, breathing softly. And then Jim has to go and ruin it by sitting up.

By way of apology, at least, he leans over to give Jax a kiss before buckling his jeans up and leaving the room. Jax assumes he’s gone to take a shower and stretches out on the sheets, rolling his shoulders, settling in for the night.

However, Jim returns a minute later, shirtless, damp washcloth in hand, and lounges right on the bed next to Jax. “Hold still,” he whispers, gently taking Jax’s chin and tilting his face towards himself. Jim wipes under Jax’s eye, and It’s not until the towel comes away with a black smear that Jax puts it together, remembers the eyeliner he'd caked on for the party, realizes that between the tears and the sweat it probably ran all the way down to his chin, and suddenly Jax feels like he can’t breathe anymore.

Jim continues to scrub away at Jax’s face, punctuating with a, “There," like that's a normal thing to say, like it's okay to just do that to someone, to fuck them into oblivion and then cuddle them and then clean their fucking face all tender and gentle and fucking sweet, Jim just acts like it's all perfectly fine to do all of that to Jax and Jax isn't even allowed to say I love you in return.

Jim pulls his hand away and stares at Jax, with what seems to be hesitation. “Are you okay,” he asks, after looking Jax over.

Aiming for casual, Jax plasters a quick smile across his face and says, "Yeah, man, you just. Jesus, I'm still recovering. You fucking crazy person."

Jim seems to accept this answer, and wordlessly goes back to cleaning Jax’s face. They lie there together, Jim propped up on his elbow and scrubbing away, tilting Jax’s face this way and that, until Jim is satisfied and leaves the cloth on the nightstand.

And so then his face is clean. And Jim is smiling faintly down at him. And Jax can't say I love you so he cheats and does the next best thing he can think of and reaches a hand up and wraps his fingers around the back of Jim's neck and pulls him down into a soft kiss. Jim lies down, curling right up under Jax’s arm, and starts roving a hand over Jax’s chest as he settles in.

Jax blinks up at the ceiling, following a crack in the plaster by the light of the bedside lamp. For a moment he aches, and the ache is yawning, cavernous, and very cold– and then he packs it all away, folds it tightly and stuffs it into a box and kicks the box somewhere deep and dark and quiet. He turns his head and pokes his nose into Jim's hair.

"So," Jax says, "Is it too soon for you to want another cigarette?"

–

Jim sleeps like a rock. That is, until, a sudden assault of pinches compels him to open his eyes and find Jax, sitting pretty directly on top of Jim’s stomach, grinning down at him. Jim wastes no time shielding his face from the sun in the crook of his elbow after it sends a sharp pain bouncing around the inside of his skull. “Ow,” he groans.

“Good morning, James,” Jax chirps, stretching his arms over his head and looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Let’s get coffee. You wanna go get coffee?”

“I’m not really sure how you’re even alive right now,” Jim responds.

"Dunno," Jax says, his grin unflickering. "Guess your dick is a pretty good hangover cure."

“Can my dick cure my hangover too?”

"Well, can you suck yourself off?" Jax inquires, peering down at Jim interestedly.

Jim carefully lifts his arm up enough to peek up at Jax with one eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

"I'll take that as a yes," Jax says breezily. Then he rolls off of Jim, stands up, and says, "Hey, check this out," as he presents to Jim the dusky red bruises on the inside of his thigh. While completely naked.

Jim reaches out and skates his hand across the skin, brushing all the way up his thigh, and there's really nowhere for Jax's dick to hide when it twitches at Jim's touch. Just a little.

Jax clears his throat, face ever so slightly pink. "Anyway. Coffee," he says, and turns away from the bed– and Jim can't resist dealing a brisk slap to his ass as he goes. Throwing a middle finger up without looking behind himself, Jax marches towards the coffee machine, and Jim watches him go with a faint smile playing across his lips.

#words #wooooo 4k #apologies for the silence we both got jobs #and i (feo) got surgeried so i was working my ass off so i could feed myself after i got surgeried #anyways have some crazy gay sex !

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karlyanalora · 2 years ago

Text

Rinse & Repeat

Read on AO3

Day 1 Take 2

It’s not like Jim to set Barbara up on a date. In fact, he’s never done it before. But she won’t complain. Walt seemed to be very nice.

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

Day 1 Take 5

“I love you, Mom.”

Jim hugged her for a long time, and she hated to break it off, but “Jim I’m going to be late for work.”

Jim pulled away, and there were tears in his eyes. She frowned, taking a moment to wipe them away. “What’s wrong?”

He grasped her hand for a moment and leaned into the touch. “Nothing, Mom. Be safe, okay?”

“Sure, honey.” All through the drive, she can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. He wasn’t like that yesterday.

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

Day 1 Take 10

Barbara felt sick to her stomach and rushed to the bathroom. Things weren’t much better a few hours later, and she called the hospital to tell them she’d be out sick. She’d say she had food poisoning if she didn't know better.

“Where’s Toby?” she asked Jim when he got home from school.

Jim shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by her apparent illness. “He had to go home early. He wasn’t feeling well.”

Her son seems cold, calloused even. Seeing him wield a knife so expertly makes her shiver as he carves a ham. He’s carved ham before, but it’s different this time. She can’t put her finger on it, but it’s unnerving.

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

Day 1 Take…

Barbara jerked awake to the sound of the front door slamming closed. She looked out the window to see Jim tearing out of the garage on his bicycle. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and it was still dark out. She couldn’t tell you why, but he seemed so desperate in that fleeting glance, that it had her chasing after him in the car. Instinct had her pulling the car off the road at the bridge and peering over into the canal just as the sun rose fully. Jim was kneeling in front of a pile of broken stone, shaking, and she could hear his wails from here. Even over the roar of some sort of monster on the underside of the bridge. She ignored the monster and awkwardly stumbled down the canal wall to Jim’s side.

She knelt next to him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He sobbed into her shirt, clinging to her tight enough to leave bruises. “I don’t want to do this again, Mom.”

“Do what, Jim?”

There, on the pavement, as the sun beat down on them, Barbara learned about a life she hadn’t lived yet. About love found, lost, found, and lost again. About trolls, wizards, and aliens. About a dead Toby and her brave son’s chance to save them all.

“But it just got worse,” Jim blubbered. “Every time, the harder I tried, the worse it got.”

“So you thought you could fix it all by saving the Trollhunter before you, Kanjigar was it?” Barbara concluded, and Jim nodded.

“But I couldn’t.”

She cursed her future self for allowing him to start this horrible cycle. “Jim, you can’t save everyone.”

“I know, Mom,” he snapped. “And don’t give me that stupid doctor lecture again.”

Well, there went that plan. “Jim, if you go into this trying to save everyone you love, you’ll find yourself doing just about anything.” Jim didn’t go stiff, exactly, but “You’ve made a lot of compromises, haven’t you?”

“I did what I had to.”

She pulled back to look him in the eye with all the sincerity and love inside her. “What you have to do is the right thing. If the world burns, it burns; you did the right thing with the knowledge you had. You have more knowledge now, but that means making harder choices. It means letting people go.”

“I can’t let them die again!”

“We can try to stop it, but promise me, no more forgoing the right thing.” She paused for a moment, staring at the stones. “Your father…when he served, he did that. Foregoing the right thing for the option that saved the most people or those he cared most about. Often those are one and the same, but when they aren’t…well, we both saw the results. I don’t want that for you.”

“I don’t know if I can anymore,” Jim admitted softly. “But I’ll tr-I’ll do my best.”

She pulled him close again, resting her chin on top of his head. How she wished she could take this burden from him, but Jim had learned through hard-won experience it had to be him who wielded the Amulet. “That’s all I can ask for. But…” how to put this gently, “I think I know why you’re failing.”

“Oh? Because I’d sure like to know.”

“You’re trying to have everything.” She felt him try to pull away, but she held him tighter. “Hear me out. Tell me, do you always try to set me up with Mr. Strickler?”

“Well, yeah. You guys are in love!”

“We were in love, in another life. Mr. Strickler and I may have fallen in love before, but right now he is our enemy and he may stay that way.”

Jim yanked out of her arms. “No! I’m not giving up on him. I know he’s good-”

“You know he can be good,” Barbara pressed. “Those are different things.”

“Fine then. What next? You want me to ditch Tobes and Claire too?”

She shook her head softly. “No, don’t push away the friends you have. Besides, I don’t think Toby would let you and you definitely can’t keep this a secret from him. And new friends may come to, like your two troll trainers. But just because they were your friends before doesn’t mean they will be again. People get to choose and they may not make those same choices. Nomura only became your friend after the Darklands, and without that, and that will not happen again, she may never be your ally. You have to let people choose and not assume you know them. If you want to rekindle what you had with Claire, you need to be upfront with her. Her relationship with you, even if it’s just friends, will actively put her in danger. She needs to know the risks.”

Jim dropped against her chest. “I can’t lose Claire. She’s going to think I’m nuts..”

“Being a hero means making sacrifices.”

Sobs shook Jim again. “It’s all gone. It’s really gone.”

“So build something new.” She stood and pulled Jim up with her. “We’ll go home and plan as best we can. You’re not alone in this. We’ll do the right thing this time and leave it at that, okay?”

Jim nodded and shuffled away. “Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” she tried to say cheerfully. He turned to look at her as she bent to move the stones aside. Just as the blue light peeked through as the last stones fell, they both heard the Amulet speak.

“Barbara Lake.”

The look of horror and defeat on Jim’s face would be forever burned into her mind.

Day 1, Final Take

This story is complete for now, but I have more ideas I'd love to explore in it. So if you want to read more, let me know.

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #a little out of the ordinary #trollhunters #fic #tales of arcadia #toa #jim lake jr #barbara lake #jimtober2022 #the end is the beginning is the end #bernies toatober22 #spell #trollhunter!barbara

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megan0013 · 2 years ago

Note

Missing scene request for fallout: Nomura's promise to protect the baby

um, hi, hello

this prompt has been sitting in my inbox for, uh, over a year? but i finally did it!

fallout

filling the gaps

There’s a light on in the kitchen.

Barbara frowns as she pulls into the driveway and, after turning off the car’s ignition, swivels around to stare at the offending illumination. She’s almost positive there were no lights on when she left for her appointment that afternoon and, while it’s possible, she finds it highly unlikely that Jim would have stopped by before heading off to Trollmarket.

Should she go in? Or call for reinforcement just in case?

But if the intruder really is someone who truly wants to do her harm, why would they turn on the light and lose the element of surprise?

It’s probably Toby, anyway. Or Claire. Maybe even Nancy, since the three of them have been taking turns keeping her company whenever Jim’s off trollhunting and her own small circle of friends aren’t able to pop by for a visit.

Or maybe it is an axe murderer. She could honestly care less anymore, and trudges into the kitchen a minute later to find a certain museum curator rifling through her very bare pantry.

“Hey, doc.” Nomura says as Barbara places the plastic bags she’s carrying down on the counter. “You didn’t happen to grab something for dinner, did you? All you have is milk and cereal. Which is surprising since Little Gynt is so obsessed with cooking. I really thought you’d be properly stocked.”

“What do you want, Nomura?” Barbara asks, head tilting as her hands rise to rest on her hips. She’s tired and still feeling particularly upset over the local grocery store’s lack of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and the magenta changeling is at the very bottom of the list of things she feels like dealing with right now. Along with bowls. Because she’s definitely about to eat this poor imitation of her favorite dessert (peppermint bark, really?) straight from the carton.

“Your baby.”

A thin, red brow arches. “Excuse me?”

“That didn’t come out right,” Nomura says in a flat, derisive tone. She holds up her index finger and tries again, “What I meant to say is, I want to protect your baby.”

“My baby?” The doctor shifts her weight to one side. “How do you even know I’m pregnant?”

“I read your mail. And,” Nomura jerks her thumb toward a grainy photo stuck to the refrigerator, “there’s a sonogram with your name on it.”

Okay, fine.

“It literally says Baby Lake-Strickler on the top corner.”

A muscle in Barbara’s jaw ticks.

“Look. I know you can take care of yourself. You’re not defenseless. I get that,” Nomura barrels on before her audience has the chance to lose what little patience she has left. “But what about next week? Or six months from now when you’re the size of a house? Let me help you. Please.”

“Right.” Barbara sighs and reaches up to rub the bridge of her nose, knocking her glasses askew in the process. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude but - “

“He was my brother.”

There’s a hitch to her voice, one that’s desperate enough to draw Barbara’s attention to how haggard she appears now. Thinner, too. Like she hasn’t known a moment’s peace in weeks. And the persistent shadow of anguish that seems to have settled in her green eyes, well... Barbara can certainly empathize with her, can’t she?

“He was my brother,” Nomura repeats slowly. She swallows. “And if Draal gets to pledge his life to protecting one of Stricklander’s children, I get to do it with this one.”

#meg answers #(finally)#stricklake #fallout fic #ah yes it's been a minute #i apologize for the wait

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snifflesthemouse · 4 years ago

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This morning, I read an article titled “I went undercover in the sinister world of Meghan Markle hate accounts" posted to Refinery 29. The title gives the impression of a journalist disguising one’s self as a “Meghan Markle hater” for the sake of getting to the bottom of something. However, the content of the article is nothing like its title.

Before I go further, let me stress the importance of perspective. My post isn’t an attack on the article’s author. I’ve never even heard of the author before now, and I’ve no right or reason to attack a perfect stranger because I vehemently disagree with the content of their work. Making assumptions about someone solely on what they write is lazy and sloppy in my opinion. I may be lazy and sloppy, but a hypocrite I try not to be. Therefore, go forward remembering my issues are with content, not creator.

The article starts out explaining the origins of the term “Megxit”. It continues with other hashtags, conspiracy theories, and so on. The article even mentions various media platforms “attacking" the Duchess, as well as crude posts witnessed by the author.

Then the name dropping begins. First with Murky Meg, then Sue Blackhurst, then According2Taz, then Skippyv20 on Tumblr, then Yankee Wally. Eventually, names of Royal Rota journalists are dropped. Then people like Angela Levin and Omid Scobie get mentioned, with interviews from the latter. Instead of an undercover sting, we get a “Who’s Who" of Megxit, a few anonymous Sussex Squad quotations, and Omid trying his best to be fair.

What this article accomplishes is very little when it comes to objectivity. The title is a misconception, and the content essentially paints targets on the backs of the people the author carelessly considers “Meghan Markle Haters". The article reduces anyone who disagrees with Meghan’s behavior as racist, misogynist, conspiracy theorist nutters. So, not only is the content of the article sloppy and lazy, it also lacks originality. We’ve all heard this sad song-and-dance number a million times.

I guess at face value, it becomes very easy, effortless really, for outsiders looking in to reduce an entire group of people with similar views to the basic stereotypes as old as time. It takes very little thought, consideration, or critical analysis, to assume things because they seem to correlate. But correlation is not causation. Just because some people opposing of Meghan Markle’s behavior happen to be racist doesn’t mean every single opposing person is also racist. Again, lazy and sloppy.

Just like assuming every single Meghan Markle fan is also vegan, anti-monarchy, feminist, woke warriors is downright sloppy and lazy. This author has personally interacted with and found common ground with Sussex Squad people many times. Some even became social media friends. They believe what they do, and I believe what I do. We do not agree with most things regarding Harry and Meghan, but we do agree to disagree and be civil.

So, contrary to the article, not all people “hate" Meghan Markle just because they detest her behavior. It’s important to remember extremes exist for all spectrums. Every topic, especially those politicized or made popular by media platforms, have extremes. There is no denying the fact that there are people who hate Meghan Markle because of her ethnicity. Those extremists who hate Meghan for her ethnicity ironically do not discriminate, though. If they hate her for her ethnicity, they hate ALL people of that same ethnicity.

On the flip side of this coin, is the other extreme. The face is the same on each side because the face represents extremism. There is no denying the fact that there are extremists who see anyone opposing Meghan as racists. Extremists who, by default, view every issue in the world through the lens of racism. While racism is a serious problem that deserves no place in society, assuming racism is the root cause of every conflict is also lazy and sloppy. And the same could be said that these extremists do not discriminate, either. If they see race as the only issue for why people “hate" Meghan Markle, they see race as the only issue for most everything.

The problem with both extremes is when everything and everyone is reduced to racial identity, racism only continues to exist. A racist using skin color as a disqualifier perpetuates racism. Assuming racism is the only reason behind disdain for someone only perpetuates racism. Focusing on race or racism allows no room for content of character.

Especially when people defend Meghan Markle being the victim of racism with a racist rule. When opposing critics say “I didn’t even know she was Black" or suggest her physical features, her Hollywood CV, or past involvement with Black causes were nonexistent before she became a duchess or stepped down from being a working royal, the extremists on the other side often resort to the One Drop Rule.

Which means their defense for calling Meghan Markle “haters" racists, even though they might have never knew she was mixed race, is a form of racism. The One Drop Rule was borne from the Reconstruction Era post-Civil War. The “rule" essentially said anyone who appeared to have Black features were considered Black.

The One Drop Rule was the precursor and eventual backbone to Jim Crow Laws of the South. It was used to oppress and segregate Americans based on physical appearance. Considering most people who never heard of Meghan before Harry came along were ignorant to her mixed heritage, it seems grossly negligent to assume race is the real issue. How can one be racist toward Meghan when they didn’t know she was mixed race? This author wasn’t aware of Meghan’s ethnicity prior to it being pointed out (by her and Harry. Repeatedly.), mainly because this author didn’t care.

Like so many, when I first saw Meghan and Harry together for the engagement interview, I was more excited about a fellow American joining the Royal Family. After learning she was biracial, well it was even better. It represented change and progress. Does that mean I saw the Royal Family as racists beforehand? No. It means I saw them as exactly the opposite. Had they been racist, she’d not be a duchess. Her being American and divorced was more a shock to me than being mixed.

The point of all this is there are extremists on every spectrum. For a journalist to say they went undercover, when in fact they did not, to expose the true motives behind Meghan Markle “haters", only to find they did very little to really understand the other side was disappointing. Not surprising, just disappointing. This could’ve been an excellent opportunity for someone to take the reigns and make bridges between two very passionate factions. Instead it became nothing more than a hit piece.

The article fails to acknowledge the possibility – no, the probability – that most people who object to Meghan Markle do so because of how she behaves. The article only considers one possibility behind this “hate". And by calling the objections “hate", the article in turn defines all criticisms as hate speech. Again, unoriginal, sloppy, and lazy.

So here we have it, yet another article grouping and stereotyping anyone who disapproves of Meghan and Harry as racist haters. Yet again, another article name dropping people “deemed racist haters", essentially painting even bigger targets on the backs of those people. Like they didn’t already have enough hate mail. Yet again, another sloppy, lazy, article that never digs below the surface to understand why instead of assuming it.

This isn’t new, it’s just another slop drop from the sensationalism machine that has replaced fair, legitimate journalism. It would be different if there weren’t so many questions surrounding the births. It would be different if Meghan Markle actually lived by the example she so vehemently preaches. It would be different if Meghan Markle would make amends with her own family before telling the world how they should treat people. It would be different if Meghan Markle were a strong woman instead of claiming to be one.

But it’s not different. She hasn’t spoken to her father since two days before her wedding three years ago. She denies the family connections that existed before her fame. She ghosts people once they are no longer of benefit. She preaches equality and universal service while using her title every chance given. She and her husband criticize the “family she never had" while naming their second child after that family’s Matriarch. All of those are behaviors that incite strong emotional responses. Behaviors. And behavior has no racial identity.

A final note… hypocrisy is the main reason people have issues with anything. When one group of people tells another group to stop attacking a public figure, while using assumptions as their crusade call, it’s hypocrisy. One cannot say “if you can’t take the heat, then shut up!” to another without being a hypocrite. When that happens, don’t be surprised when the same exact thing is said back. If Meghan or her fans can’t take the criticism, they shouldn’t participate in it. We all have the right to choose. Just like if I couldn’t handle the criticism, I’d not be writing this.

Life is not fair. The world is a dark, cruel place. When we expect the world to bend to the will of a few, we are setting ourselves above the majority. A strong woman would know this. A strong woman fighting for others would also know that the only person responsible for how one feels is one’s self. External feedback isn’t responsible for internal turmoil. Internal feedback is. That is all.

REFERENCE:

Amoako, A. (2021 June 11). I went undercover in the sinister world of Meghan Markle hate accounts. Refinery29. Retrieved from: https://www.refinery29.com/en-gb/2021/06/10518195/megxit-meghan-markle-anti-fandom

#murky meg #megxit #yankeewally #prince harry #according2taz

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rikalovesrice · 3 years ago

Text

Trollhunters : Rise of The Titans [Rika’s Version!]

AIGHT SO THIS IS WHAT SHOULD’VE FREAKIN’ HAPPENED --

The movie starts a year after Wizards. We see Douxie, Archie, and Nari all settled in Metro City. Douxie managed to get a dinky little apartment and works two jobs. He comes home after a long day to Nari and Archie.

Maybe Nari’s running around chasing after Archie. Maybe the two of them are curled up on the couch and snoozing. Douxie smiles softly, petting Archie’s head and gently brushes Nari’s hair out of her face. Maybe Nari was singing to one of her plants and just beams when Douxie walks through the door. Just Magical Siblings and Their Therapy Cat fluff.

But that night, Douxie wakes up. Something feels very, very wrong. Nari feels it, too.

Cut to the door to their apartment being busted right through, flames quickly consuming the threshold. To Douxie’s horror, it’s the Arcane Order and he immediately goes on the offensive. This is the first display in the movie of Douxie’s strength as a Master Wizard, his proficiency and skill with his magic as he holds his own against Bellroc and Skrael as he did in Wizards. He tells Archie to take Nari and run but neither of them want to leave him behind. Archie instead fights beside Douxie, urging for Nari to escape while she can. Nari’s reluctant because Douxie and Archie have become so precious to her.

When it looks like they’re about to be done in, Archie wills himself to transform into a huge dragon, taking Douxie and Nari into his claws and flying out of there, busting straight out of the apartment. But not before giving Bellroc and Skrael a thrashing with his tail. They manage to give the Order the slip. For now.

Archie quickly loses steam from holding such a form and crashes on the outskirts of the city, transforming back into a cat. Douxie cradles him in his arms. Nari tends to their wounds with her magic, looking forlorn.

Douxie frantically dials a number on his phone.

“Claire? Claire it’s me...” A column of fire erupts in the distance. A shot of Douxie, Archie, and Nari huddled close. “They found us.”

Trollhunters : Rise of the Titans Title Screen

The scene fades in on the new and improved Camelot, where the Lakes are staying. We see Jim spending time with his mother and Walter and it’s lovely. We see a hint of Jim’s trauma when he’s cooking and looks at his reflection in a spatula. He flinches away. He doesn’t want to look at himself. Barbara comforts him, a tender heartfelt moment between them.

Claire then emerges from a shadow portal with grim news : The Arcane Order have found Douxie and Nari.

Jim gathers his friends. Claire shadow portals them all to Douxie, who’s found shelter in a hut Nari made from tree roots. Douxie’s cast a barrier to hide their presence, though it won’t last long.

It’s a really sweet and awesome reunion. Douxie gives Claire and Steve big hugs. Nari bounds up to Toby and holds his hand. Jim, Krel, and Douxie have a “good to see you again, bro” moment between them. Aaarrgh licks his lips at the sight of Archie.

It’s here that Douxie gives the deets on what’s happened. As they begin to figure out a way to keep Nari safe and away from the Order, Nari suddenly says, “No.”

After almost losing Douxie and Archie, her new family, Nari decides enough is enough. She wants to face her corrupted siblings head-on. To not only protect the world, but her newfound friends.

Douxie understandably protests. But Nari, gentle but resolute, tells him she’s made up her mind. No more running.

And so, Douxie acquiesces.

Cue the sequence/fight scene on the train!

Nari realizes what Douxie’s doing when it’s too late. They switch bodies and Douxie’s taken away by the Order.

“Douxie, I’m so sorry...I couldn’t save her,” Claire laments.

Nari, in Douxie’s body, “N-no...No, I am fine. But Douxie...Douxie!”

Everyone’s like, “Oh no” but then oof, they all get arrested.

The police department scene! With Krel and the Blanks busting everyone out.

Now, we find ourselves back on Camelot where Jim’s being attended to by Walter and Barbara after waking up from a nightmare. Bellroc’s words torment him : “Without your Amulet, you are nothing but a frightened! Little!! BOY!!!”

Walter suggests Jim should lay low, let his friends handle things. Jim reaches a real low point here. Claire provides some comfort. Hand in hand, they make their way to the Round Table, where everyone’s licking their wounds.

Blinky explains to them that the Order wants to awaken the Titans and need all three members of the Order to do so. While everyone’s relieved that Nari’s safe, Douxie’s now in the Order’s clutches and they want to figure out a way to save him.

Nari, sad and grim, says that Douxie’s spell will eventually wear off.

“He is, as humans say, buying us time...”

Cut to Douxie (in Nari’s body) with the Order. Douxie doesn’t make a sound, not wanting to give anything away. They try the ritual and when it fails, Bellroc and Skrael quickly suspect foul play. They realize that Nari isn’t Nari and proceed to forcefully, painfully, undo Douxie’s spell.

Douxie wakes up, back in his own body. He’s swarmed by his friends, all overcome with relief that he’s alright, but it’s short-lived. The Order has Nari.

Douxie manages to recall where the Order took him. Before they head out, a downtrodden Jim says he should stay behind, going back to the bed chamber. Claire goes to talk to him, but Douxie stops her.

“Let’s give him some space,” Douxie says gently, though he looks just as concerned for Jim. “In the meantime,” he summons his staff, “we’ll hunt the Order down, put a stop to their schemes, and bring Nari home.”

Everyone heads to the warehouse-train track place (I forgot what it was called rip). Just then, Aja comes flying in, having been contacted by Krel. The Tarron siblings have a sweet, wholesome, long-awaited reunion. Also Staja and Creepslayerz reunited!

Aja cautions Steve about the whole seventh kiss-pregnancy thing and he quickly decides that, yeah no, he’s not quite ready for that. His Alien Queen Muffin (or whatever the heck he called her) is back and that’s all that matters to him. Also wtf Eli’s hot and taller than him now.

There’s a cute moment of Douxie and Aja really meeting for the first time. Aja recognizes him.

“Oh! You were the hand-reading waiter boy!”

Upon hearing she’s a Queen, Douxie’s Medieval chivalry kicks in and he bows at the waist.

“The name’s Hisirdoux, Your Majesty.” After Aja butchers his name, he says “Douxie” will do just fine.

Nomura abruptly reminds them they don’t have time for pleasantries. They get to it. Douxie figures out the sigil and the illusion fades, revealing the Order performing their ritual with a brainwashed Nari. They’re unable to stop it and the Order members teleport away to join with their respective Titans. We see each of the Titans rising.

The Arcadia Gang regroups back on Camelot to form a plan. Jim, discouraged and deeply troubled, is leaning over a rail, head in his hands. Douxie comes up beside him, silent.

Jim eventually asks how things went. When Douxie tells him they failed and the Titans have risen, Jim feels even more powerless and guilt-ridden.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I couldn’t...I can’t do anything. Without the Amulet I’m not the Trollhunter anymore and I’m just...useless--”

Douxie cuts him off, putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“Jim. That’s not true. Do you remember what I told you? That our strength doesn’t come from special trinkets. Our strength...” Douxie finally gets Jim to look at him, “comes from our friends. From each other. All of us together. That includes you.”

“But...without my Amulet how can I do anything--”

Douxie smiles gently. “By being true to yourself, Jim. As we, your friends, are true to you.”

Just then, Claire joins them and asks if Jim’s okay. Jim smiles as Douxie ruffles his hair.

“I will be. Thanks.”

Jim, Claire, and Douxie find everyone arguing at the Round Table. Aja is wanting to evacuate everyone off of Earth, to which Blinky protests. Everyone just keeps going back and forth until Jim yells for them to stop.

Time to divide and conquer, cutting back and forth between each battle with the Titans.

Aja, Krel, Steve, and Eli tackle the Fire Titan.

Blinky, Toby, and Nomura handle the Ice Titan, with Walter and Barbara steering Camelot.

Jim, Claire, Douxie, and Aaarrgh go for the Earth Titan. Douxie’s hoping to get through to Nari and break her free from the Order’s control.

Aja and Krel fight the Fire Titan side by side on their hoverboard. Steve and Eli help civilians off the bridge and keep them safe.

Varvatos Vex in his giant robo mech incoming, along with a handful of Akiridion warships.

The Fire Titan proves to be too powerful and defeats Varvatos’ robot, melting down the Akiridion troops in the process. Aja and Krel are knocked down from their hoverboard. They and Varvatos retreat as the Fire Titan continues to burn a path towards its destination.

Toby and Nomura attempt to zipline their way to the Ice Titan to take down Skrael with Akiridion bombs. When the rope fails, Walter extends his wings to save them, but his wings quickly freeze.

Nomura grabs the bombs and sacrifices herself, bidding a heartwrenching farewell to Toby and her longtime friend, thanking them both. She asks Toby to tell Jim she said goodbye. Ever agile, Nomura scales the Ice Titan and detonates the bombs.

But to everyone’s horror, the Ice Titan only puts itself back together. Walter sinks to his knees. Toby throws down his helmet. Their friend sacrificed herself for nothing.

Aaarrgh is charging after the Earth Titan, Douxie, Jim, and Claire hanging onto his back. Claire shadow portals the three of them onto the Titan’s back. Douxie begins to plead with Nari, even as she constricts him with vines.

Douxie manages to grab her hand. He begins to break the mind-control with his magic, still calling out to Nari as he’s losing the ability to breathe.

Douxie’s voice reaches her and she breaks free. Nari frantically asks where she is, if she hurt him or his friends. Douxie, overcome with relief, just embraces her.

“You’re here with us, Nari...You’re here with us.”

Nari assures them they have a Titan on their side now. They receive communication from the Tarrons, who warn them that the Ice Titan is getting close to Arcadia.

No time to wonder why Skrael’s headed there. Claire makes a massive shadow portal to Arcadia (the field trip scene!), taking Nari’s Titan with them. Nari tries to reason with Skrael, but he’s having none of it.

NARI VS SKRAEL COMMENCE!

The Tarrons and Creepslayerz arrive on scene. Douxie boards Aja’s hoverboard and together they fire lazers and magic at the Ice Titan. Varvatos dashes and slashes his way up the Titan. Claire, Jim, Krel, Steve, and Eli work to rescue the school bus from getting crushed.

Well, it does get crushed but thankfully everyone made it off. Then, Archie comes flying in with his father, Charlemagne. Charlie flies all the students and Coach to safety. Archie joins Douxie in the air, blasting Skrael with fire.

“C’mon and face the music, Skrael!!!” Douxie summons Spellcaster and starts shredding.

Enraged, Skrael releases a devastating burst of magic that knocks Douxie, Aja, and Varvatos away. Nari seizes the opportunity to impale Skrael’s Titan, but not before Nari’s fatally wounded by him in return. Both Titans collapse.

Douxie runs to Nari, desperately calling her name. She’s on the ground, dying. Everyone gathers around, devastated. Douxie holds Nari in his arms. Archie nuzzles Nari’s arm, tears forming in his eyes. Douxie’s already crying.

“No..No, no, Nari, please...” Douxie holds her hand. “Nari, don’t go, please...!”

“It is okay, Douxie...Do not be sad...”

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I said I would protect you...” Douxie leans down, almost touching his forehead to hers (it’s Harry and Dobby y’all). His tears fall onto her face. “I said I would protect you...!”

“You did something greater, Douxie...” Nari squeezes his hand. Tears of her own roll down her cheeks. “You gave me a home. And many, many friends....” Douxie sobs harder, holding her close. “You saved me, Douxie...” She’s beginning to fade. She smiles, her eyes closing. “Thank you...Thank...”

Nari fades, wisps of magic and flower petals slipping through Douxie’s fingers. Douxie wails, Archie pressing close. Jim and Claire lay their hands on his shoulders. Claire hugs him.

Krel is then alerted that the Fire Titan is also on the move towards Arcadia.

Everyone reconvenes on Camelot. They all mourn the deaths of Nomura and Nari.

They learn that Bellroc is headed towards Arcadia, the center of the universe, because that’s where the last Heartstone is. If at least one Titan reaches the Heartstone, the world will be wiped clean.

Before they head out, Douxie and the Tarrons present Jim with a brand new Amulet, forged from magic and Akiridion technology. That, and the stone in which Excaliber lodged itself. Douxie encourages Jim to try once more.

Jim steps up on the stone, gazing fondly at his friends around him. They all place their hands on the stone in support. Jim pulls Excaliber from the stone. Everyone cheers for him.

Douxie’s seen texting someone.

FINAL SHOWDOWN IN ARCADIA

Bellroc is seen making their way towards the Heartstone. But what stands between them and the prize is the Guardians of Arcadia.

Charlemagne, Archie, and Walter soar above. Blinky and Aaarrgh lead an army of trolls. More Akiridion fleets arrive, Aja and Krel at the helm. Varvatos has a brand new robo, too.

Bellroc sneers at their defiance and summons an army of their own : hundreds of big rocky lava monsters.

BATTLE OF THE MOST EPIC OF PROPORTIONS IS A GO.

Trolls are punching, Akiridions are blasting, magicians are casting.

JIM SUITS UP WITH HIS NEW ARMOR AND EXCALIBER AND IS LIKE DON’T THINK BECOMIN’ FOR YA BELLROC FOR THE GOOD OF AAAAAAAALL

Douxie conjures up a spell to send that boy flying onto that Fire Titan.

Toby and Aaarrgh slam and hammer their way through fiery goons. Claire and Aja team up to take down the opposition, noting they should get lunch together sometime. Charlemagne tears through the enemies with his claws and wings. Krel and the Creepslayerz flail about and kick tail anyway.

Our heroes all cover one another and play off of each other’s strengths and it’s beautiful.

When Douxie’s about to get smothered by lava fists, there’s a flash of lightening and the monsters vaporize.

Douxie turns to see Zoe with a brigade of hedge wizards. Douxie’s immediately bowled over, smitten.

“About time you showed up...,” Douxie says, in a daze cause wow Zoe’s so pretty.

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of nerve --” Explosions. More lava monsters. Zoe sighs and pats Douxie’s cheek. “Ugh, focus, you big sap!”

The pair are unstoppable together, mowing down the lava monsters in powerful bursts of blue and pink.

DOUXIE’S EYES GO BLUE AND ZOE’S EYES GO PINK EPIC AVATAR STATE RINGS OF MAGIC AS THEY DECIMATE THEIR FOES WITH ROCK MUSIC BLARING YESSSS

And well, Douxie can’t help himself and gives Zoe a good long smooch after they’ve destroyed half of Bellroc’s army.

Toby in the distance : HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN A THING?????

Archie just groans.

And meanwhile, Jim’s finally facing off with Bellroc. After having one of the most badass fights in the franchise, Jim comes out on top, skewering Bellroc in the stomach with Excaliber.

AND BOOM THEY DID IT GUYS EARTH IS SAVED.

....But not without great cost.

Toby’s been mortally wounded, crushed by the falling pieces of the Fire Titan. There’s the tearful, heartbreaking moment Jim has to say goodbye to his best friend, the one who was there with him through it all.

“We did it, Jimbo...We did it...”

Jim holds Toby in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Claire holds Jim and weeps beside him. Aaarrgh is in hysterics but is calmed to pained whimpers by Blinky. The Arcadia Gang grieves, feeling the painful weight of losing the friends they held so dear....Nomura, Nari, and now Toby.

Time Skip/Montage

Douxie found a proper apartment in Arcadia. He keeps a potted plant with those distinct pink flowers, the flowers Nari loved, on his windowsill. Smiles softly at them every time.

Scenes of Mary with Darci as she mourns. Steve and Eli hanging out. Douxie and Krel jamming, Krel creating beats and Douxie riffing on his guitar. Aja and Claire going on that lunch date. Archie taking a nap on top of Aaarrgh. Walter playing classical music.

It’s taken a while, but Jim’s starting to feel a little bit better. Douxie, Krel, Steve, and Eli came over for some bro time. Seeing the pain in his eyes, Douxie gives Jim a hug.

The final scene is a picnic at everyone’s favorite spot in Arcadia with a single bench and an awesome view of the town.

Aja and Steve are cuddling. Krel and Eli play with a frisbee. Blinky, Aaarrgh, and Varvatos laugh around a table. Douxie and Zoe, holding hands, are having a lively chat with Claire. Jim serves up a huge plate of enchiladas.

Walter and Barbara announce their engagement. Everyone celebrates.

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER TIME.

Aja, Varvatos, and Eli depart back to Akiridion-5. Steve honks into a tissue. Krel pats him on the back as he waves to his sister.

Barbara kisses Jim on the forehead before going home with Walter.

Zoe kisses Douxie on the cheek and heads off.

Steve and Krel are the next to go.

Douxie, Archie around his shoulders, pulls both Jim and Claire into a hug before leaving.

Blinky gives Jim a hug. Aaarrgh nuzzle him, looking sad.

Jim and Claire hold hands and sit on the bench, gazing out at the town.

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER ENDS T_T

The End.

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shutupanddance · 3 years ago

Text

Bones / Reader — Remember Me

Hey my fellow fan fiction people, I have MAJOR writer’s block, and I really want to get these requests done, so I’m hoping that this will snap me out of it.

Warning: this is angst!!

How would Bones react to your death?

Normal text is present time, and blocks of italic text are memories!

Enjoy ;)

Dr. Leonard McCoy is experiencing a “slow day” in medbay. Not that there isn’t the occasional ensign coming in with a scrape or broken bone, but it’s nothing like when the away missions come back.

Speaking of away missions, you were on one now. You weren’t scheduled to come back for a week, though. You were a microbiologist, so your missions were usually much longer, and consisted of more time going back and forth between your lab on the Enterprise and the planet you were stationed on.

The personnel staff realized pretty quickly that very little got done when you and McCoy were on a mission together. The doctor was so worried for his fiancé that he spent more time making sure you were safe than doing his job. So, it was a rare thing nowadays that you’d be put on a mission together.

Spock is suddenly in medbay.

“What are you doing here?” Leonard grumbles, glancing over his shoulder.

When Spock doesn’t respond immediately, he turns. Something is wrong, Leonard can tell. But whether Spock has a common cold or the ship is about to explode, he can’t tell.

“Captain Kirk requires your assistance on the bridge.” Spock states coolly. Odd.

“Are you sure? Can’t he just ask me through a holopad like everyone else-”

“Please come with me, doctor.”

Doctor McCoy follows, but he grumbles the whole way.

As soon as he’s in the elevator, another team rushes into medbay. They’re surrounding a gurney. And attached to that gurney is a heart monitor, which is beeping slow. Dangerously slow.

You’re not really sure why you got picked for the Enterprise. I mean, it’s Starfleet’s flagship, for crying out loud! But here you are, working away in one of the most advanced labs you’ve ever seen, floating many many miles from home.

You’re still processing all this when a beaker slips out of your hands, and shatters violently on the floor.

Luckily, no one else is in your lab right now. You stay calm, walking on careful feet, and retrieve a broom. As you’re sweeping, though, you realize blood is running down your fingers.

One of the shards of glass must have flown up and cut me, you realize.

You carefully wrap the small wound and apply pressure, then begin walking to medbay.

The nurses don’t immediately notice you, probably because you’re just standing there looking like you’re out for an evening stroll, but soon enough one happens to glance directly at the gauze you have wrapped around your forearm.

“Oh, dear!” She says, guiding you to a bed. “Dr! Dr. McCoy!”

Out from a nearby office walks Dr. Leonard McCoy. He’s got dark hair, the most alert eyes you’ve ever seen, and damn he’s hot.

“What happened to you?” He grunts.

“Beaker broke. Shard of glass flew up and cut me. No other injuries, and there’s no glass in the wound. I was able to stop most of the bleeding, but I think I’ll need stitches.”

An eyebrow goes up.

“Alright, why don’t you sit down and I’ll take a look.”

You didn’t know it, but in that moment, Leonard McCoy nearly fell head over heels for you. And all he showed for it was a raised eyebrow.

The Captain will not stop insisting that he needs a plan for contagious diseases on the Enterprise.

“We already have one,” Leonard reminds him.

“But will it work? Do we have one for different situations? For instance, if we’re docked on a hostile planet-”

“Are you trying to keep me from my job!?” Leonard asks, more as a pointed jab, but when the room grows uncomfortably silent, he realizes he’s right on the money.

What else does he realize? That every face in the room looks forlorn. And a bit defeated.

“What’s got everyone so depressed?” He asks, swiveling to see the entire bridge crew. No one answers.

Finally, Spock clears his throat.

“We wanted to keep you away from medbay while the doctor’s worked on Y/N.”

There’s a moment, a brief moment, where Leonard’s brain stops working. And he’s paralyzed with fear. But, it doesn’t last for long.

“WHAT!?!”

Jim steps in.

“She was injured on the away mission. Some animal we’ve never seen before came out of nowhere and attacked.”

Bones is trying to get away.

“She saved everyone else’s lives by luring the beast away, doc,” one of the crew is saying, but he doesn’t care. He needs to get to you-

The door to the bridge rolls open. M’Benga is standing there.

And Leonard has never seen the man look so guilty, so distressed, so sad.

“Watch the Coreolis Anjankus!” You say, pulling a red shirt away from a very poisonous plant. You pass him to Dr. McCoy, who pushes him even farther away.

“I thought you were a microbiologist?” He chuckles.

“With a minor in botany!” You smile.

You were one of the few scientists Leonard found to be cool under pressure, and the only one with real common sense. Still, despite all you knew about the dangers of every planet, you were always completely relaxed. If he was being honest, the doctor envied you (just a little bit).

“Tell, me, how did you get stuck with this motley crew?” He asks, eyes trained on the Captain, watching for any dangers.

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. “They just sent me a message one day asking if I wanted to join.”

“And you said yes.”

“Of course I did! Have you seen the labs on the ship?!”

Leonard laughs.

“I’m a nerd, I know, but this assignment is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Dr. McCoy finds himself staring at you, suddenly. He doesn’t really remember how he got here. All he can think of is the fact that your heart’s not beating. That your body is mangled and bloody and despite M’Benga attempting to close the wounds, you look horrible.

It seems ironic, almost, in that instant. The woman who never worried about anything is lying mauled in a biobed. Dead.

The medical idea of death has settled in Leonard’s mind. No beating heart, no brain activity. But what he can’t wrap his head around is you being gone. You’ve always been there. And, for a moment, he’s convinced that if he sniffles too loud, you’ll hand him a tissue. If he mentions he’s hungry, you’ll wake back up, dig through your duffel bag, and pull some food out.

But you’re not moving.

“Where’s her duffel bag?” He asks, voice as loud and cranky as ever.

Kirk hands your bag over.

Bones reaches in, and digs around until he feels something soft. A teddy bear. He places it on your chest, and lifts your arms to hug it. The soft fur stains with blood.

It’s a horrific scene, the one in front of them.

A village destroyed by a massive storm system. Houses leveled, fields of crops uprooted, and hundreds of people injured or dying or dead.

But you’re standing there, cool and calm as ever, handing out blankets. You smile gently at each villager who steps up, and ask them in one of their native languages what else they need. You direct them to different crew members who can help.

One kid walks up, so young you have to crouch to be eye-level with them. He’s alone. And he looks so terrified, so empty, that you immediately wrap him in a hug. He clings on for dear life.

When he finally let’s go, you begin to explain to him that he needs to see the doctor. He shakes his head so hard you’re afraid his neck will snap. You say some more words in his language, and reach into your duffel bag.

You pull out a teddy bear. The boy smiles, ever so slightly, and immediately gives it a tight hug.

You speak encouragement at him, something about bravery, and the little boy makes his way over to the medical tent with his head held high.

All this Leonard watches. You look at him. He looks at you. And for a while, an unspoken respect passes between the two of you.

He asks you later why you had the teddy bear.

“I always have one on me,” you smile sadly. “You never know when you might need one.”

The ship docks at Command, and the usual celebratory revelries aren’t being heard. The crew is somber.

Your body, encased in a beautiful casket, is loaded onto a small carrier vehicle. Jim, Leonard, and Spock follow it as it weaves its way through the halls.

Your parents are there, and the funeral is quick. No one can really find the strength to say what they want to. No one can choke through their tears long enough to tell your story.

Bones is the last to leave. He watches your casket for hours, almost as if he’s waiting for you to spring out and laugh and kiss him, promising it’ll never happen again, promising you’ll never leave him…

He smiles. A memory-

The town of traders on this new small planet offered the Enterprise crew a place to stay overnight, and Kirk had agreed.

Their houses stood on stilts overlooking an ocean, and there were beautiful torches that burnt blue everywhere to light the paths. Bird-like creatures swooped through the town, twittering and squeaking.

You’re watching them silently through a window, a soft smile on your face. Leonard is sitting next to you on the bed, kissing your shoulder.

Two of the bird things get into a fight, and screeching is heard. Feathers fly.

You laugh, loud and unapologetic, as they tussle. Leonard laughs too. He’s smiling at you as you watch them, so completely wrapped up in how beautiful you are.

You fall back onto the bed, hair flying everywhere. You’re still giggling.

You look at your fiancé, enjoying watching him watch you. You feel comfortable. The house is warm and the blue firelight traces his face. The face of your love.

Leonard is wondering how on earth he landed you. How he convinced you to love him. But he truly has no idea. You’re lying there, eyes locked with his, gazing with so much love he feels he’s going to burst.

You lying there like that, hair spread out on the bed, a lazy smile on your face, eyes sparkling with the reflection of torches… he locks that picture in his mind.

And Leonard thinks that he’ll always remember you this way.

#reader insert #star trek reader insert #star trek #Star trek reboots #star trek fanfiction #star trek headcanon #bones x reader #bones imagine #leonard mccoy #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy imagine #masterlist

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bisamwilson · 3 years ago

Note

uno reverse star trek aos bc im curious

i love aos with my whole entire heart (to the point that i’ve unfollowed otherwise good trek blogs bc i got tired of seeing so many posts ragging on aos rip). aos got me into trek and i’ll be thankful for it for that forever

like first off the casting is fucking perfect. you can tell all of them love star trek so much. like pegg wrote beyond (which was the most “trek like” of the aos movies imo) and put so many cute little nudges towards the originals in there that i loved. quinto and nimoy were good friends and it was obvious quinto just wanted to do right by nimoy’s legacy. any time i see karl urban as bones i think about that story of how nimoy got teary eyed watching him bc of how much he acted like de. john cho is a badass sulu, anton was a major part of the heart and soul in those movies, and i love just how dedicated zoe saldana is to showing off uhura’s incredible competency.

i haven’t mentioned pine yet, for good reason, and that is because, despite how a lot of trekkies i know feel, i love aos kirk. i love just about everything about who he is as a character. i’d even venture to say i love him more than tos kirk (though i love tos kirk more than life too). pine pours so much life into him as a character. here’s a kirk that’s every bit of the genius he is in tos, but he’s at his youngest, most reckless, most cocky. he’s a twenty something who’s spent his entire life being left behind (by his hero father who follows him everywhere he goes, by his mother who is reminded of her lost love every time she sees him, by his piece of shit uncle, and perhaps most importantly, by sam. we’ll come back to sam later.) he decides it’s easier to throw up a facade, a cocky devil may care attitude supplemented by his pretty blue eyes and his frankly ridiculous aptitude scores, and spends his life pissing people off from the get go so he never has to feel the hurt when they leave.

which brings me back to sam kirk. (this bit gets negative @ jj specifically despite the ask prompt, fair warning.) as both a trekkie and a star wars fan, there are many things i will never forgive jj abrams for, but at the top of that list is deleting the scene where sam leaves jim behind. because that, in my i’ve-spent-way-too-much-time-thinking-about-jim-kirk opinion, is what defines jim, even more so than the dead dad who died on his birthday. that’s the final straw. his big brother, the one who was supposed to be with him no matter what, tells him he’s leaving bc jim’ll be fine. he’s a goody two shoes with perfect grades who always follows orders, but sam’s a kirk. so he can’t stay where his uncle is. up until this point, jim’s done what he’s supposed to do. he listens, he does his chores, he minds, he does well in school. he keeps quiet as much as he can. until his brother leaves and so he decides to steal a car and drive it off a cliff. he decides to become what sam says is a kirk, and fuck the consequences. being good and mindful got him a family who didn’t want him, so he’s gonna be a delinquent instead, bc then at least he doesn’t have to worry about getting left behind again.

and despite whatever womanizer image jj was going for, chris pine got /this/. you can see it written all over his face: the wonder at looking up at the enterprise in the iowa shipyard, the dedication to beat a test to prove people didn’t always have to die, the way he looks so shocked when spock prime treats him with such kindness, tells him how much of a great man he is and will be, that he was such a fantastic captain. even in stid (which isn’t my favorite by a long shot) you can see kirk struggling with his own self worth, see how much he feels like he was just living up to everyone else’s shoddy expectations when he lost his captaincy. see how much he feels like martyring himself is the only way even though he doesn’t want to die, bc if he doesn’t someone else would have to. and his crew means more to him than he does.

most importantly though, we get to see kirk work through it. he relies on bones, to the point that uhura is basically holding him up when it looks like he might die via missile explosion in stid and to the point he trusts bones to just be there on his birthday in beyond. he openly admits to spock in beyond that he wouldn’t know what to do without him (despite never letting himself need anyone at all since sam). he jokes around with uhura, saves sulu. trusts chekov to take care of things when scotty quits. assures scotty he’ll take the blame if things go wrong in beyond. he is close and in sync enough with his crew by beyond that his security on the bridge know exactly when to hand him a phaser when he rushes off. he’s dropped his cocksure attitude and grown into the captain he was always born to be, that spock prime told him he was. for the first time since he was like nine years old, he’s let people in.

and that, more than anything, is why i love aos so much. the cast is wonderful and the storylines are (mostly) entertaining to watch, but more than anything, aos jim’s journey is just so relatable to watch. it’s heartbreaking in its infancy and so incredibly satisfying by its end. tos kirk seemed louder than life to me always, which is maybe why i gravitate to aos jim more. he’s got so much in him that he has to find a way to let out. and he does

#i am so sorry i did not mean for this to just be a ridiculously long meta around jim kirk #i promise i love aos for other reasons i just. kirk.#thanks for the ask teddy!!!!#ask #star trek #alternate original series #jim kirk #long post #aos #star trek aos #mak rants

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ewritesfanfics · 3 years ago

Text

Day 2: Memories

@krexieweek

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36841816

Krel does not like this mud-ball.

It is primitive to an infuriating degree, and its customs are weird and shrouded in language that does not mean what the words indicate it should mean! It’s maddening!

He also does not like this school.

The math is on-par with what Akiridion children learn, and he does not know why the drapes are blue in this human book and the teacher keeps asking him despite him not being the writer, and in gym class, he has been forced to run long a long distance with no end goal! Why do the humans run for long distances in circles? They are going nowhere and accomplishing nothing!

So deep in his stewing and grumbling, Krel Tarron manages to run face-first into the open door of the locker.

On the ground, he vaguely wonders what would happen he just laid here and refused to get up.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

He sits up slowly, rubbing at the sore spot on his head, and comes face-to-face with a girl dressed in purple who has a streak of white in her dark hair. She looks surprised to see him.

“Uh, you’re one of the new kids, aren’t you? Um, it’s Krel, right?”

“How do you know my name?”

“You have a couple of classes with some of my friends. According to Eli, you’re really something in math.”

“Well at least someone here appreciates my genius.”

She sticks out her hand. Why does she stick out her hand?

“I’ll help you up, give me your hand,” she says after an awkward few seconds of him just staring at her hand. He does as she says, and sure enough, she pulls, allowing him to get leverage with his feet and stand back up with ease.

“Thank you,” he says stiffly, “Uh … what is your name?” He figures he should at least ask for her name since she already knows his. That’s something humans consider polite, right?

“Oh, I’m Claire Nuñez! It’s nice to meet you. Since you’re new, would you and your sister like to hang out with me and my friends after school? We could show you some of the hot hangout spots around town.”

“What does the temperature of a spot have to do with its potential for ‘hanging out’?” He’s just glad he got the explanation for what ‘hanging out’ is a couple of delsons ago, otherwise he’s certain what she just said would have been completely incomprehensible.

“It’s just a way to say these places are popular, and lots of people like them,” she says patiently, far more patiently than anyone else Krel’s encountered thus far, not even batting an eye at Krel’s misunderstanding of the phrase.

“So, you actually want to hangout … in popular spaces with lots of other people … with my sister … and me?”

“Yeah! Think of it as an apology for the locker, and as a ‘welcome to Arcadia’ kind of thing.”

“I should probably speak to her first …”

“Well, if she wants to come, my friends and I will hang around the school’s front entrance a few minutes longer than normal.”

At the end of the school day, they do go and meet Claire outside of the school.

“Hey! Glad you decided to come!” she calls out as they approach.

“You are Claire, yes?” Aja asks.

“That’s right. And I think I’ve heard people call you Aja?”

“Yes, that’s my name!”

“Well, Aja, Krel, these are my friends Jim and Toby. Jim, Toby, these are the new exchange students.”

With her are two boys, one short and rotund and clad in orange and yellow, the other lanky and skinny and clad in blue.

Something stirs in the back of his mind, and he gets an odd feeling when looking at the trio, though he can’t quite pinpoint exactly what that feeling is.

“Hello! So, where are we going?” Aja asks excitedly.

“Come with us and you’ll see!” Jim says, beckoning them to follow.

They follow the humans for what seems like forever, the walk dragging on and on, but then they come upon a bridge, and then the humans are insisting they go down into the large concrete canal. Krel and Aja are ushered beneath the metal structure and placed in front of a wall.

“Um, what is going on?” he asks.

But even before the humans can answer that …

“Step away from the princelings!”

“Ugh, Varvatos!” Aja groans as their guardian hustles over, his serrator out and poised to attack.

“We’re fine, Varvatos! They just wanted to hang out after school. They are showing us places popular amongst the teenagers,” Krel says, rolling his eyes.

“Then you should have alerted me that you would not be coming home directly after your school! As far as Varvatos knew, you could have been hurt or taken by bounty hunters!”

“Varvatos, hush!” Aja says frantically.

“Actually, it’s good he’s here,” Claire says.

“Huh?” Krel asks.

Jim just smiles and pulls this weird, glowing orange rock from his bag, and it’s unlike any rock Krel has seen on Earth. He watches in fascination as the tip of the rock is placed against the wall, and as Jim drags it in an arch, a blue light is left in its wake. With a press of his hand to the center, a doorway opens.

Krel is too stunned to speak.

“Lively,” Aja mutters in awe.

The three humans file inside, waving them on. They follow, but not before Varvatos steps in front of them with a huff, insisting on going first to ensure it is safe.

Once everyone’s inside, the doorway closes behind them. In front of them, a giant staircase made from glowing blue crystals descends into the depths.

“What is this place?” Krel asks, finally pushing past the block.

“Before that … For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!”

There’s an intense flash of blue that explodes outward from a metal circle held in Jim’s hand. This circle is placed on his chest as pieces of armor appear out of nowhere and cover his body until he is clad in a full suit with a massive sword is slung across his back.

“It is an ambush!” Varvatos cries.

Before Krel or Aja can stop him, Varvatos leaps forward, his serrator forming a sword, and the Jim human easily sidesteps. A hand touches Varvatos briefly on the shoulder, and during this moment of contact, a green light flashes from beneath his hand and from within the circle. Varvatos gasps and sinks to his knees, eyes staring off into space.

“What did you do to him?” Aja gasps.

“Eh, just a reminder.”

He then steps forward before either of them can react to that statement and places one hand on Krel’s shoulder and one on Aja’s. The same green light flashes. And then pain splits through Krel’s head, a feeling as if his very mind is getting pulled in every direction to its very limits.

Images flash in front of his eyes at an incredible speed, sending splitting pain through his head as emotions and knowledge and experiences flood in, blocking out all senses.

Bounty hunters and Varvatos’ betrayal and the Eternal Night.

Kubritz and Area 49-B and Stuart.

Gaylen’s core and an apocalypse and deciding to stay on Earth.

The Arcane Order and Titans and the Krohnisfere.

He can feel the pain of his knees hitting stone, but there’s too much happening in his head, too much, too much …

And then, as quickly as it came, it’s gone.

“J-Jim ..?” he just barely manages to croak out.

“Sorry we didn’t get you guys sooner, we honestly had no idea you guys were in town already,” Claire says.

Krel blinks his eyes, trying to clear away the last vestiges of the magic, and he looks up at the three humans. The three Trollhunters. Three of the best friends he’s ever had, and three people who he’d trust his life with. Three people he’d follow to the ends of the Earth and back, and who would do the same for him.

Beside him, Aja stumbles to her feet, and she looks far older than she had mere minutes ago, the weight of being Queen settling onto her shoulders and lifting her head up high. Beyond Jim, Varvatos too has gotten to his feet and is asking Toby about his grandmother.

Krel looks back at Jim who is still in front of him, and is holding a hand out, much as Claire had earlier.

That chasm of fear and loneliness that had yawned wide in his chest since they had to flee Akiridion 5 is gone, entirely, and a hole he hadn’t even known was there is filled.

He clasps the hand, a familiar gesture between allies and friends, and stands.

“Now, come on. There are some people waiting for us down in Trollmarket,” Jim says.

He’d never seen Trollmarket in its true splendor before, the place gutted and abandoned by the time he and Aja were brought down here the first go around – a mere shadow of what it had once been, a desolate place of pain and loss.

Now though, it’s bright and brimming with life. There’s an energy to it all that seems to envelop him, and if he weren’t heading somewhere specific, he’s certain he’d be going through each and every store to marvel at everything.

Many of the trolls look discomforted at their presence, which he and Aja both find a little odd at first, but Jim says it’s because they’re still wearing their transductions and so the trolls think they’re more humans – and at this point, the transductions can’t be taken off at will yet. So, they’ll be stuck like this until about 7 o’clock.

But all of his thoughts of constructing portable transductions again are forgotten once they enter Vendel’s inner sanctum or whatever inside the heartstone itself.

Around a table, various people are gathered. Blinky stands by Aaarrrgghh, the two of whom are conversing with … Merlin, unfortunately … and Vendel, who he recognizes from his Mama and Papa’s memory. Beside them are Barbara and Strickler. Then there’s Nomura and a large blue troll Krel is guessing is the one named Draal, he fits the description Jim had given. NotEnrique is joking with Steve and Eli. And then there’s Zoe who’s talking with Archie and –

“Douxie …”

He doesn’t consciously move, but the next thing he knows, he’s flung himself at Douxie, and the two go tumbling to the ground.

He’s now chest to chest with the wizard, brown staring into gold, Krel’s arms holding him up while Douxie’s arms are wrapped around his waist.

“I missed you,” Douxie says.

“We promised each other that we would find each other again, some way, somehow. I am just sorry it took me so long.”

“No need for that, love. We’re both here now, aren’t we?”

Krel presses his forehead to Douxie’s, a traditional Akiridion display of affection, and Douxie huffs out a small, fond chuckle.

“Hisirdoux, what in the name of Mordrax are you doing?”

Krel looks up to see Merlin staring down at them, and while still a tad exasperated, his expression is more perplexed than anything else.

“Varvatos would also like to know what is happening with the King-in-Waiting and the wizard,” Krel hears from behind them.

“So would I,” Aja says pointedly, and Krel winces.

Right, I didn’t have the chance to tell her before the ordeal with the titans.

“Just give them their moment,” Jim says, and Krel silently thanks the Trollhunter.

“Fuzzbuckets, now we actually have to do the ‘meet the parents’ thing.”

A realization strikes Krel, and he looks back down at Douxie excitedly.

“Yes! And now it’s not just Varvatos, you can actually meet Mama and Papa! They won’t have to sacrifice themselves!”

Douxie gives Krel a 1000-watt smile, joy practically radiating off of him. His hands move from Krel’s waist up to cup his face, gently brushing the hair from his face.

“I can’t wait.”

#krexie #krexieweek #hisirdoux casperan #krel tarron

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