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umlewis · 1 year

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lewis hamilton is interviewed ahead of the miami grand prix [part 1] - may 3, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "So, Lewis, just saw you playing a bit of basketball. It looks like that's not your first time, right? You've played a bit before. You looked pretty good out there." Lewis: "I played when I was a kid, and I love to play when I can, but I haven't played for ages." Interviewer: "Do you get competitive even in those kind of situations?" Lewis: "Super. I think it's almost like a sickness. [laughs] When I lost, I was... Yeah, can't help it. I'm like, damnit! I'm like, re-run it. All I can think of is like, can I get them to re-run it? And then, at the end, I stayed and I just kept hitting... Just to get past that comeptitive part of me, so, yeah." Interviewer: "It did look good at the end. At the end, it looked like you were..." Lewis: "Yeah, but it should be... When the pressure was on, I should have been good." Interviewer: "Yeah. All I can say is, we had George do it a couple of years ago and you're better than George, so..." Lewis: "Oh, yeah, yeah. I mean, if I wasn't, it would be a huge let-down on that side of things. Like, I grew up playing. I love basketball and I follow it. George definitely doesn't. I don't know what other sport George... Maybe soccer or something like that, but..." Interviewer: "Well, we saw you two playing a bit of table tennis. That looked competitive." Lewis: "Oh, yeah, yeah. I need to get better at that, as well. Yeah, he had a ping pong table, like, we made a desk, and then he brought his own ping pong net, so yeah, I think we have to re-up that game. I definitely need to get better at ping pong." Interviewer: "So that's the one thing he's got on you, maybe? Is..." Lewis: "At the moment, he's killing me at... He beat me. Well, not killing me, but he beat me at ping pong, so I definitely need to work on that." Interviewer: "Yeah, I can see that." Lewis: "Hopefully, maybe we'll get a table more frequently, and then we'll see how it is at the end of the year." Interviewer: "It was great content, as well, seeing you two doing something like that." Lewis: "Yeah, it was good fun." Interviewer: "While we're on the subject of basketball, or back on the subject of basketball, I see you posted Giannis' piece in the press conference where he talked about failure and the very big difference between failure and steps to make progress. What did that say to you? Because obviously it's something which you wanted to put back out there, as well." Lewis: "I reposted it because I just felt... I've been in that position and I could feel the frustration. I knew exactly how it is, like that, 'cause when you're working toward something, it's all about... Success is made up of a ton of failures. You fail far more than you do succeed, and I think sometimes people are complacent when they're asking you questions. 'How does it feel to be failing?' It's not really that... There are no mistakes, there are only lessons, I keep saying, and you can't always win. But it's not how you fall, it's how you get back up. It's how you show up, day in, day out, and train, and continue to try to get to wherever it is you're trying to get to, which is obviously the top, and I thought it was really inspirational. I thought he just spoke very, very well. I think he was just very eloquent with how he put it down." Interviewer: "Yeah, 'cause we only tend to see the success; the tip of the iceberg, if you like. There must be so much that goes on, being a pro athlete, to get to that point and, obviously, like you say, failures, call them what you like, along the way, but it's all steps toward something important, right?" Lewis: "Yeah, exactly, but also people... I mean, the emotional stress you go through when you're working with a team... The emotional feelings you go through, the physical, where you're just constantly having to dig deep... And all sportsmen and women out there will know what it's like. It's great to see there's so many people so super competitive, but yeah, it's obviously a different... When you see them... From our side of the table, when you're on this side being asked questions and you're the one going through all this stuff... In the spotlight, as well. I feel sometimes it's difficult for people to understand, I guess." Interviewer: "Yeah, I mean, right now, obviously things aren't quite where you want it, but your motivation is still there. We heard you get out of the car in Baku and you were saying I don't just want one more year. I want several more years here. So where's that coming from, inside you?" Lewis: "I love what I do. I mean, racing has been my life... Two-thirds of my life, I've been racing, so there's never gonna be a day that I don't... I'm always gonna be watching racing. I'll always be a driver, 'til I die, right? The seasons are very long. It's a gruelling career, but it also gives so much. But I don't know. I'm loving working with my team, I'm still loving racing, and I love being in battle on track. And when you get in the zone, where you're really on top of everything, there's a special synergy that you have which is hard to find. And I'm 38, but I feel younger than ever. I'm training better than I've ever trained before, I feel like I'm in a great place, so I don't see why I would want to stop any time soon. And there's a lot more I wanna do within the sport. As the sport continues to grow, the work that we're doing, not only within the sport, but outside, in terms of the impact... And working here today with IWC and [unintelligible], getting young kids an opportunity to get into STEM from underserved communities, that's some incredible work, and I wanna be a part of that." Interviewer: "Yeah, 'cause that's really tied in with what you've tried to, as well, from Mission 44, and you were saying the other day that you'd like to expand it to the US, you'd like to expand it to Africa. Could you talk about what the plans are there?" Lewis: "Yeah, Mission 44, we're working on a plan to expand it to... I'd love to bring it to the States and I'd love to do some work... With my trip to Africa and discovering more about my heritage in Africa, I see there's so much opportunity out there for kids, and it's really hard to believe it if you can't see it, so it's creating an opportunity for these kids. Every kid deserves an opportunity; a good education. Every kid should understand what STEM could lead to, and it's not just one job, and I think there's just a lot of... And also just, I'm really focused on just transforming the lives of young, underserved kids. That's what drives me when I'm in the car. If I can get on the podium, and get first, and I have a bigger platform to push that narrative and work with great brands like IWC to actually make an impact when we are in these places... And it's not just about a product. I's actually about a real story and a journey that we're on."

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #miami gp 2023 #fic ref #fic ref 2023 #miami #miami 2023 #miami 2023 wednesday #not a race #2023 not a race #between baku and miami 2023 #with george

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0613magazine · 2 years

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200831 Teen Vogue

BTS Talks "Dynamite," New Album, and ARMY Creativity

"We realized that without ARMY, who are always there for us, everything we do is meaningless."

In BTS’s new reality series In the Soop, the members of the Korean septet — RM, Jin, SUGA, j-hope, Jimin, V, and Jungkook — relax at an Airbnb near the mountains. They immerse themselves in hobbies like painting, fishing, and playing endless games of ping-pong. As the sun sets, they prepare a meal together and enjoy it at a long picnic table, laughing and joking around as they celebrate a moment of rest.

It’s an extremely relaxing experience, watching In the Soop. The most intense drama so far has come when RM and V have to lure their remote-controlled boats back to shore after nearly losing them. But before that scary moment, the pair look on at the boats they steer, proud and happy; the camera pans out to show them as two small figures set against the vastness of mountains and open water. V asks, per translation, “Why is this so healing?”

ARMYs have latched onto that phrase in the days since the episode aired, in large part because it so aptly mirrors what BTS fandom can feel like at its best. BTS released their newest single “Dynamite,” on August 21, and along with more than 260 million YouTube views, the music video sparked near-endless fan creations: TikToks of ARMYs rocking roller skates and ‘70s outfits, making “Dynamite”-inspired makeup looks, and putting their own spin on BTS’s choreography.

“We always have so much fun to see what ARMY creates something based on our works,” BTS tells Teen Vogue over email. “They truly amaze us with their creativity and talent … and it’s been fun to see people all over the world covering the dance. We look forward to seeing more of ARMY interpreting ‘Dynamite’ in their own way.”

Fandom can be such an immersive experience; it’s often described the same way people describe falling in love. You fall down a rabbit hole, you think about them constantly, you trust them with your time. It’s a rush. “Even if you try to resist, you won’t be able to help it,” BTS sings per Doolset Bangtan’s translation of Love Yourself: Her track “Pied Piper.” “Not just an hour but a year or two would just fly away.” What starts as a song you’re drawn to or a funny clip you spot on Twitter or a live performance you catch on TV can become a whole universe.

Breaking records is BTS’s forte (they just became the first all-South Korean act to reach no. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100), but no matter where they fall on a chart, and no matter how high the YouTube views climb, they know behind the numbers are people. A song like “Dynamite” — breezy, light, pop music made for dancing — can become part of someone’s memory forever.

“When fans connect our songs with their own experiences and attach meanings behind it, we’re amazed by the various experiences along with ways of life in the world,” BTS says, “allowing us to have fresh thoughts and perspectives that our songs can be interpreted differently.”

Map of the Soul: 7, which dropped this past February, oscillates between abstract examinations of the self in the Jungian sense, and concrete reflections from the members on how they got here and who they are now. In “My Time,” Jungkook muses that he “grew up without me knowing,” per DoYou Bangtan’s translation. In “Ego,” J-Hope imagines an alternate universe where he’s a non-famous Jung Hoseok, with a dream that went unfulfilled — the song itself is a relief valve: “The seven years of anguish are finally being confessed/The pressures, all being eased.” In “We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal,” BTS unites with ARMY, solidifying the fact that in the sum of their careers, they are more than seven.

The energy going into Map of the Soul: 7 felt special, though the album will likely not receive the traditional world tour that fans longed for because of the coronavirus pandemic. (BTS will perform MAP OF THE SOUL ON:E in Seoul and online in October.) Still, the album exists as the encapsulation of a moment in BTS’s lives as well as in ARMY’s. In the past few months, BTS’s music has continued to make new memories for fans who watched the nostalgic Bang Bang Con and its live concert sequel; when they performed “Spring Day” remotely at YouTube’s Dear Class of 2020 graduation ceremony, the song’s messages of renewal and looking ahead amid grief and loss held new meaning.

And so their relationship with fans continues to be inextricable from their larger career trajectory and the way they make music. “Dynamite” was an intentional outreach to ARMYs. “We decided to accept new challenges and be more flexible, especially with our music under these unprecedented circumstances,” BTS says. “Music is everything to us, and we can honestly say we are passionate about singing and dancing more than anyone. However, we realized that without ARMY, who are always there for us, everything we do is meaningless.”

Now, BTS is at work on their next album, set for release sometime before the end of 2020. They’ve been documenting the process on YouTube; this time around, they’re playing a larger role in the overall journey of making the record, divvying up responsibilities and taking a DIY, communal approach. (“For example, Jimin is in charge of the music as the project manager and V is responsible for the visuals,” BTS notes.)

“Each member has a significant share for this upcoming album,” BTS says. “An increase of direct participation in the album-making process allowed us to explore more aspects of our music and creativity.” That distribution of work doesn’t come without its challenges. “Because all the members are involved in the album somehow, there are more last minute changes being made than before, which leads to more uncertainties surrounding the finalization of the release date.”

RM, the leader of BTS, often gravitates toward the metaphor of a boat when describing the dynamic personalities and interests of each member. In the Break the Silence docuseries from earlier this year, he said, “The seven of us are on a boat, looking in different directions but going the same way. That’s how I describe BTS. Some might feel sad because I said we’re looking in different directions, but I think that even my parents... look in different directions at times.”

But as they work out their next album, RM, Jin, SUGA, j-hope, Jimin, V, and Jungkook have turned their eyes toward ARMY.

“As of now, we’re all looking in the same direction,” BTS says. “We feel that we need to stick together more than ever and do what we do best, i.e. music and performing. We believe that the boat is now headed towards the point where we can meet ARMY again in person. No matter when, we bet our boat will reach there.”

Source: Teen Vogue

#2020 #bts #teen vogue

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e-mangos · 2 years

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The Flash Fix-It: Season 9

In light of all the major changes happening to the Flash and the CW, here’s my suggestion box wishlist fix-it for the upcoming final season.

A shorter season -- no more than 10 episodes. Give Barry moral dilemmas to solve. We get it. He’s “leveled up” (It’s a travesty how Ciara didn’t make a dime off of the number of times they said this horrible phrase) so give him less physical challenges and more emotional/mental challenges. Gustin is a brilliant actor and drama is where he truly shines; in those moments when he’s getting ping-ponged between his head and his heart. Give him a villain that breaks his spirit. Give him a villain that challenges his values. Zoom, Season 1 Reverse Flash and Bloodwork were great villains because they tried (and nearly succeeded) at breaking Barry’s heart. Hell, Zoom literally broke his back. Bloodwork threw Nora/fatherhood in his face. Reverse Flash killed killed his mom, turned him into the Flash, trained him and then betrayed him. The Flash works best when the villains’ motivations are rooted in values that challenge/undermine Barry’s.

Gut the team. When it was just Barry, Cisco, Caitlin and Wells that made sense. Every other combination since them has been trash (Chester and Sue are awesome though). No more Allegra. No more Cecile. No more scout meetings in the cortex; no more hallway talks after the scout meetings in the cortex. No more randoms going “into the field” with Barry. He’s the Flash. He’s “leveled up”. He got this yo. At this point in Barry’s development, the “team” really should just be Barry, Chester on comms and a medic. Hell, at this point, I’d love to watch an entire season of Barry lone wolfing it. No Star Labs. No equipment. Just the suit and a need for speed.

About that medic...it shouldn’t be Caitlin. I said what I said. Frost was a more interesting character than Caitlin ever was. Honestly, I’d be willing to bet money that Panabaker probably enjoyed playing Frost more. I wish Frost was the one with the medical background so we could ditch Caitlin and keep Frost as the medic. Now that Frost is gone, it’s time for Caitlin to go too. The few times that Barry needs a medic, I’m sure Argus can spare one.

Cecile has got to go. Her and her “oh, my god I’m sensing that you feel embarrassed at the fact that I keep invading your privacy with my powers. Tell me (and everyone in this room) more”. Doesn’t she have a child to rear? A career to foster? Please, go do that especially since it doesn’t seem likely Joe will put a ring on it. Now that Jesse L. Martin’s role has been reduced to recurring, write Cecile off. Please.

I hope the Iris time sickness foolish resolves with Iris getting stuck in a future century permanently. WestAllen fans hear me out. I too love WestAllen. I think Gustin and Patton had amazing chemistry. Read: had. (The way this man used to kiss her I swear --!) Any who, whatever chemistry they had is gone. The show has gone out of its way to deliberately nuke it by constantly separating them for reasons I will not even begin to speculate on. They really turned them from “touch is our love language” to “roommates who occasionally see each other when schedules line up”. The spark they had in earlier seasons is gone. It’s a damn shame too because they’ve utterly wasted Patton. She’s a good actress and she was given nothing to work with for years. In the pilot, she mentions working on a dissertation. Where did it go??? Where? Then they absolutely bungled her C3 plot by shoehorning Allegra and her cub reporter side plots. It’s infuriating. At this point, just make it that Iris is stuck in a future century and Barry has to use the speedforce to visit her. This way, she’s not dead, but she’s not present, which if we’re being honest isn’t all that different to what they’ve been doing with her for the past 8 seasons. And they can still have their future kids, etc. (Be free Candice Patton, be free and prosper!)

#fix-it #the flash #cw the flash #the flash fix-it #grant gustin #candice patton #superheroes #dc comics #dceu #american tv #speedforce #westallen #barry allen #iris west-allen

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years

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No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]

...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think.

To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.

Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.

He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.

Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.

It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.

Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.

Ugh. They wanted a refund.

...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse.

Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.

Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.

This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.

“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them.

If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.

Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.

But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.

Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.

The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.

Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him.

Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.

She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—

Anyway.

His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do.

Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.

“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.

...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.

In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.

This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.

Old habits die hard.

Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?”

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.

The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.

...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.

One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives.

Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place.

At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays.

So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent.

Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?

Ugh, they’d never understand these people.

Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.

Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ‘good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.

As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.

Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.

Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever.

Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability.

Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so.

It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder.

It hadn’t failed him yet.

Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.

It was...nice, having his little sister around again.

It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.

Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.

...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay?

Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].

Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.

Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.

Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic.

He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.

“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”

“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.

“You’re not really acting like one.”

“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”

Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.”

Justin would never, ever understand these people.

In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds.

Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.

For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.

Why.

Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?

“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, to be fair—”

“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”

Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade.

Yet...well, something weird was going on.

Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but—

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.

No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them.

Justin couldn’t understand it.

For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit.

He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise.

Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.

Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.

Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.

...well, fuck.

“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”

Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector.

Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.

Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.

“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.

“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”

Ugh.

His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.

...and then I kinda ran out of steam.

tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].

in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets.

#No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]#No Hero [Downward Descending]#My writing #character study of sorts #fic idea #fic ideas #3 am musings #kinda #also #does it count if said 'fic idea' is over 2k long?

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ggukkiedae · 4 years

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❝𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕠𝕡❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ Episodes 1-2

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

⇢ script form (name: lines) are the interviews

EPISODE 1

she’s sitting in between namjoon and hoseok, legs curled to her chest

she mostly stayed quiet while resting her head on namjoon’s shoulder

after talking about jimin’s hanbok, they turned to yoonmi

“miya-ssi, you want to experiment with making makeup, yes?” “that is correct” “we’ll have the materials and ingredients you need ready in a box there. the projector and projector screen you asked for will be there as well”

she clapped excitedly and thanked the staff

“i get to watch movies with mimi!” “we all do, jungkook” “me first though”

when it came to the hobbies that they wanted to try together, she raised her hand

“pdnim, is it okay if we have more of everything so we can all try out each other’s interests?” “actually, that’s a good idea”

and so she managed to get the staff to broaden their list of things to buy

before they stopped, yoonmi sat up, kicking her legs out in front of her and making hoseok jump in surprise

“can we have a trampoline? like one of those circle ones with a net?” “we’ll have that ready” “yay! okay, thank you, pdnim!”

miya: school just let out, so it felt like a summer vacation with family. i feel like we got to just let loose, and i loved it

when it came to filling the cars, she gave jungkook her 2 small luggages and her guitar, keeping her backpack, her puppy plushie, and her hamster plushie on her

she helps loading with a pout “i wanted to drive my motorcycle, but i can’t because we’re gonna be on the freeway”

namjoon patted her head and opened the door for her to go in the car

she settled in the back just as jungkook made his way into the driver’s seat

“you gonna sleep the whole ride, mimi?” “only if you don’t teach me to drive today” “... have a good sleep”

namjoon chuckled at the two and buckled his seatbelt, reminding the maknaes to do the same

she put on sunglasses and was somehow able to fold her whole body so she was curled up in her seat

“why does it sound like our guitars are breaking?” “i got them”

after fixing the guitars, she settles back into the seat and goes silent so jungkook just asks namjoon if she’s sleeping

namjoon pats her knee, and she doesn’t move “she is. i’m not surprised. she stayed up all night again”

and she somehow stays asleep despite the members both in the car with her and through the walkie talkies being talkative

you can see jungkook constantly looking in the rearview mirror to check if yoonmi’s doing okay

“aigoo, she’s already an adult, but she still looks this small?” “don’t tell her you said that, jungkookie”

she wakes up when they’re driving by the water and namjoon just “have a nice sleep, yoon-ah?” “yes, oppa”

they get off in the place they were going to stay, and she’s just walking around with two fairly big plushies in her arms

they’re walking on the field and yoonmi sees the trampoline, its net open for her to enter

“oppa, hold this,” she handed her plushies to taehyung and ran to the trampolines

the other members just stopped to watch her fondly while she did a few back tucks and aerials in the trampoline

“yoonmi-ah, you just woke up, you might get hurt” seokjin called her back and she just giggled and slipped her shoes on again and ran back to them to check out the house

she placed her plushies on the piano to have free arms

she explores the moving cameras with jungkook, eyes wide “wahhh this is so strange but so cool”

she’s skipping around, distracted to the point where yoongi had to hold her hand to keep her from straying from everyone

yoongi leads her to the tarp where she decided to just lie down on the grass nearby making yoongi chuckle while seokjin had her stand up because she was wearing a white shirt

she made her way to the hammock and wrapped herself up in there “oppas, i’ll be here if you need me”

she takes out her phone and taps a few things before paradise starts playing “mmm this is a good relaxation song”

she hears seokjin and namjoon trash talking each other after a few minutes and looks up briefly “oh, ping pong? looks like it’s about to get competitive”

she laughs to herself and puts her head back down

you don’t hear from her again until jungkook finished cooking the ramen

he walked over to the hammock and picked her up “no skipping lunch” “but i was listening to musiiiiic”

he dumps her on the chair next to yoongi and she’s just sulking while grabbing a bowl and chopsticks to get food

hoseok laughed at her actions “cute”

namjoon and seokjin bickering about pingpong while they ate and she laughs “i knew they’d get like this”

jungkook took her away to the boat house where he took out his guitar

“where’s mine?” “with all the other stuff”

she kinda just lies down on the side and stares at the ceiling while jungkook played, occasionally suggesting chords that she think would sound well with his progression

“oppa” “mm?” “should i go help sort the groceries out?” “did you sleep last night?” “... i took one second naps every ten seconds”

cue jungkook rolling his eyes and throwing her plaid shirt (which she had removed earlier) over her face “sleep, not blink”

the next cut you see of her is jungkook putting a blanket over her legs before leaving to join the other boys

when jungkook’s calling around for everyone, taehyung asks him where she is and jungkook points to the boathouse

taehyung goes in and lightly taps her side “aegi, time to go to the main house”

she nods and taehyung puts an arm around her while they walk back together

buuuut the door is locked and the other members call for a password

“lajibolala?” taehyung asked yoonmi just tilts her head “is it not rock bison?”

they let them in, and she settles into taehyung’s side

“can i sleep in the boathouse?” “okaaaaay me, yoonmi, and jungkook in the boat house!”

she grins and picks up her plushies and heads off to unpack her stuff

EPISODE 2

seokjin pops in on her after his disappointing fishing session and he sees her on her laptop, midi on right next to it

only one of her carriers were open, and seokjin could tell it was to get her blanket which currently sat across her lap

she had her headphones on and she was already working on a track

miya: i don’t know, maybe it was instinct to start working on something? i was working on something the whole night, and i guess that momentum kinda just came back *laughs* jinnie oppa stopped me though

seokjin shakes his head and squishes her cheeks together

“princess, leave that for when you’re actually bored, and start unpacking. look, you even left toph and koda on top of your bags” “okay, okay, oppa”

she saved her progress and smiled at seokjin when he handed her the two plushies

there’s a mini compilation of her setting up her stuff and unpacking with seokjin’s help

after a few clips, you see her in more comfortable clothes and walking out while braiding her hair into pigtails to see yoongi and seokjin fishing

she giggles when yoongi gets in the boat “oppa, what are you doing?” “what? it’s not like it’s illegal”

when seokjin and yoongi are on the boat, she moves to her room and pulls a book out of her backpack

the subtitles read “the most peaceful member so far” while she settles on her stomach and opens the book

jungkook checks in on her after a while “i’m gonna go fish. you good here? oh, she’s reading she can’t hear me”

sure enough she didn’t move one bit

after what looks like ⅓ of the book, she glances up “oh, a portable blender! i should make banana milk”

she goes off to the kitchen to grab some ingredients. her nose scrunches when she sees seokjin handling a fish, then she grabs some milk, bananas, cinnamon, honey, and a knife to take back to her room

she silently hums an (at the time) unfamiliar melody while cutting up the bananas and putting them into the jug

miya: i feel like you’re going to be bored with me the whole show *laughs* i live pretty quietly. so far, all i’ve done is sleep, eat, make music, read, and make banana milk. i don’t know what you’re expecting, but nothing much really happens when i’m on break

“okay, two bananas, a cup and a half of milk, and a random amount of honey and cinnamon because measuring is a construct let’s go”

she puts the lid on then screws the jug in place, pressing down on it and blending until it seemed right to her

she smiles when she’s done and gathers all her trash into a bag

she switches the lid of the jug to one without blades then brings everything but the port to the kitchen in the upper house

“did you make banana milk again? can i taste?”

jungkook comes over and takes the trash from her while talking

she opens the jug and holds it for him to take a sip before she covers it again and puts it in the fridge

“oppa,” she approached yoongi, “do you need help with dinner?” “did you rest today?” “yes” “then go ahead and cut up the vegetables i laid out over there, and be careful, princess”

eventually she ends up setting the table outside while jungkook walked behind her and played with a frog

she’s laughing at him while setting down plates “the frog is trying to have some peace”

she’s tucked between jimin and hoseok for dinner, and jimin’s just constantly adding food to her bowl

hoseok’s off to the side sneakily pouring her a shot of soju and she just giggles and takes it in thanks

she laughed along with the stories, mostly exchanging glances with jungkook

miya: the oppas were all bringing up old memories, and it was fun. i forgot we were filming. i’m usually quiet during meals, but i think i laughed a lot more on our first night than i usually do. *laughs* ggukoo oppa and i made eye contact and i’m pretty sure we remembered the same thing, but that’s a secret

she had settled in her bed pretty soon, phone on as if she were messaging someone. she made eye contact with the camera and smiled “good night”

#yoonmi.inthesoop #bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi

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dokifluffs · 4 years

Text

Comforting their Bullied S/O | Yamaguchi, Suga, Akaashi

Pairirng: Yamaguchi X Reader (gender neutral), Suga X Reader (gender neutral), and Akaashi X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: angst to fluff 🥺👉👈

Request: “Are requests open? I would like to request hcs for Yams, Suga and Akaashi. How would they comfort their s/o if they were to get bullied. Thank you in advance!” - anonnie

Author’s Note: Indeedy requests are open~ Awww this is so cute and this was so fun to write 😊 Also here’s third year akaashi 🥺🥺

Warnings: name calling (suga), insults (akaashi) , embarrassment (yamaguchi) ((note: these are the things in their hcs, not what they do or say to y/n))

Yamaguchi:

“Y/N, let’s eat” Yamaguchi’s voice was gentle and a little excited as he stood in the doorway of your classroom, looking to your empty seat as the halls behind him filled with kids rushing to the cafeteria

“Excuse me, do you know where Y/N went?” He asked one of your friends, approaching them as they opened up and ate their own bentos at their desk

“Oh, they ran off when the bell rang..” one spoke, paused from her eating. He didn’t miss how everyone else around had a sad look as they looked down to their bentos

“Do- do you know where they went?” He asked, curious since you didn’t tell him anything new or different about lunch. He remembered distinctly you telling him that the two of you should eat together today last night

“We’re not so sure but they seemed pretty sad... I mean I know I would be too if senses outed me like that,” another spoke, stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of rice

“Ah, thank you, enjoy your meals,” he said as he left your classroom. He didn’t really know where to look and instead went to the spot the two of you usually ate together at

Snow slowly fell outside, the clouds gray and bits of snow sticking here and there as he walked down the hall toward the stairwell

Pushing the door open, the sound echoed around the tall, spacious place. The area cold since it was in the corner of the school

Before he could leave, he heard the slightest sound that caught his ear. Walking around the corner to the stairs, he saw you

You sat curled up with your hands linked together below your legs, folded up to your chest. Your eyes were red and teary as you sniffled, your head resting on one knee, squishing your cheek

“Y/N, what happened?” Yamaguchi forgot about the cold, taking a step up towards you, one half holding the railing while the other held his dangling bento. “How come you weren’t in the classroom?”

You turned in your seat, making space for him on the step to which he sat himself beside you, his undivided attention unwavering

You reached into your uniform pocket and took out the crumpled wad of paper, handing it to him

He unfolded it, seeing it was a mock everyone in your guys’ year recently took. Apparently, the curve was harder than the previous years

He saw the red marks made by your teachers hand but it made him curious since he referred back to what your friend had said before he left

“I feel... so dumb,” your voice weak. You took the test and crumpled it back into a ball, putting it beside you. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at it. “I wanna go home, tadashi,” you said dejectedly, resting your head on his shoulder

“Can I ask what happened in class?” He treaded carefully

It honestly hurt to think back to not too long ago. The sickening embarrassment rose back up in your chest

“When we got our tests back, sensei purposefully gave mine back last. He held it up for the class to see saying that this was a perfect example of what not to do on a test,” you sobbed

He couldn’t believe what he heard

“I honestly thought I did pretty okay... I felt good about it afterwards,” you used your sleeve to wipe your nose. “But I guess I was wrong,” you sighed

Yamaguchi empathized with you, however. The two of you studied before his practice and even over the weekend, diligently reviewing. He felt good about his test too but unfortunately for quite a handful wrong

There just wasn’t as many marked wrong on his compared to yours but he would never say that. It was the last thing you needed

“You’re not dumb and what sensei did was wrong of him. Everyone’s talking about how hard the test was... even I found it hard..” he scratched the back of his head, laughing just a little to lighten the atmosphere

“Really?” You peered over to him, eyes big

“Really. And this was just a mock too- let’s study and work even harder together and prove sensei wrong.” He took your hand in his, surprised at how cold it was

“You’ll do a lot better next time, I know you will. We both will,” he leaned his head down to find your eyes, showing you a kind smile, one that warmed you up in this cold cold world

“But let’s go somewhere warmer,” he offered, standing up, leading you out of the cold stairwell. But little did he know that you were always warm enough with him

Suga:

You bit your lip hard, biting back the tears but your eyes couldn’t stop watering up every single time you could hear their voices in your mind

You never did anything to them so why did they target you? How did they enjoy hurting someone’s feelings on purpose?

The old supply/ janitor closet was dark, dusty, and cold, a single dim lightbulb hanging and shining in the center of the room but you paid no mind finding comfort in the dark. It had a musty smell to it but you never paid mind to it if it meant solitude

The room itself was small, even smaller with the old metal shelves leaned up against two of the four walls in a corner, old basketballs and deflated soccer balls, cobwebbed cones sitting on the dusty shelves

You sat in the corner that connected the two shelves, sat next to, practically behind, an old rolled up gymnastic mat that was discarded in here due to rips and tears in the material

It was able to hide the red flush in your cheeks, your slightly runny nose and your tear filled eyes

You sat on the ground, playing with a ping pong ball that was left out by accident long ago, bouncing it on the concrete floor, the sound of it echoing

Beyond the door, you could hear the sounds of the volleyball poles used to hold the bet up being lifted from the posts they stood in, the chatter of the team as approached

You knew they carried the poles to the other closet, the cleaner and bigger one for all gym and sports equipment so you didn’t panic or anything hearing their steps approach

However, this all changed when the old doorknob jiggled, shadows of someone’s feet visible beneath the crack of the door

You scooted back into the corner, bringing your legs in as much as you could to hide yourself, not wanting to be seen or to have your little place discovered

“Y/N?” Suga’s honey voice called out to you as he stepped in, closing the door behind him. “Are you in here?”

It had completely slipped your mind that you stayed after school for your own club activities and planned to stay a bit longer to walk home with suga but then you bumped into them

They were quick to spot you and begin to nit pick things about you- the way you looked, dressed, spoke but you never understood why. They were always ones to tease and push your buttons in class, acting all friendly whenever any teacher passed by. They even brought up your relationship with suga

With a burning ache in your heart, a wound they constantly prodded their fingers at, you naturally came to what you deemed your little closet after you discovered it one day, trying to get away from reality

It was small and unlocked and nowhere near the heart of the school since it was by the gym which was perfect. It was your safe place at school

“I’m here,” your croaked, tossing your ping pong out to the old counter with the sink across from you. The ball bounced back to you and it wasn’t long until suga sat down beside you

You kept your eyes down on your lap, pretending to focus and stare at the off-white plastic ball in your hands, rolling it about

“Are you okay?” He asked, sitting himself in the slim space between you and the metal shelf. “I saw you come in earlier and you haven’t come out since...”

“Yeah,” You lied, making your voice sound as natural as you could but of course it cracked just a little at the end, keeping your eyes down

“Are you really?” His voice was so gentle with you, he was always so kind... their words rang into your mind once again, their words etched deep. Why was he with you?

“Who would want to be with a loser like you?” They asked, making you feel bitter and worthless

You shook your head, your vision blurred until you felt the weight of a tear drip from your eye onto your hand with a little splat sound. Your words were caught in your throat, unable to speak. He knew exactly what group did this to you yet they never had the guts to say it while he was around or beside you

Suga didn’t say anything either but instead brought his arms around you, his hand on your head to bring you closer to him. He spread his legs and sat himself around you, holding you close as he hummed softly

“Don’t listen to them.. no matter what they say, it isn’t true,” his voice just above a whisper but it was enough to go into your ears, his hand rubbing down your arm.

“But what if it is?” You sobbed, your knitted together in worry as you looked up to him, even catching him off guard. “What if what they said was true?.... that you don’t actually want to be with me..” it hurt to say out loud

“Ow,” you brought your hand to your forehead, looking back up to suga who had softly flicked you

“They’re wrong. I’m with you because I care about you and there’s nothing about you that would make me leave since you’re the reason I want to stay,” he huffed a little

“Don��t cry,” he spoke a moment later, using the back of his club sweater to wipe your tears away. “Let’s go get a snack and take a long walk home, okay?” He flashed his signature smile to you, holding your hands happily in his

Akaashi: ft. bokuto 😗

The sky was getting darker and darker, clouds heavy, ready to split at any second, sending a heavy downpour all over the land

Winds blew strongly, making the branches sway, pulling off leaves, sending them rolling all over

From what you could see as you sat below one not too far from the water station of the volleyball camp, you could see the winds turning the leaves showing their pale undersides

Rumbles of thunder sounded in the distance, the humid wind blowing in your ears

You sniffled to yourself, picking at the grass around you, your back pressed against the bark of the large tree

You looked down to your hands, looking at your taped fingers but it only made you sadder making you feel like you were sinking deeper and deeper into your own little pit

“What happened?” Akaashi’s subtle voice was soft. You didn’t even hear his steps but it was most likely due to the wind

He sat beside you, offering a drink from his bottle but you declined

You let go of the stray pieces of grass, watching as they flew away and disappeared into the taller grasses that danced with the wind, creating a wave effect

“F/N said you went to get water but you haven’t come back since”

“Do...” you tried to gather your words, pushing through. “Do you think I made a mistake? Choosing to play volleyball?”

“No, why would I?” But then he put the pieces together. You had told him about a few girls on your team who you overheard doubting your skills as a setter

He was aware of your insecurities since you were a manager your first year and last year you rode the bench but now that you two were third years, it meant you were going to play

It made you nervous. The slightest mistake crushed you from the inside out. He could imagine what it felt like to hear such discouraging things from your teammates

“They-“ You hiccuped, the heat of the emotional pain you felt rushing up your back. “They told me I should have never made the team. They called me useless...”

you sat cross legged beside Akaashi, fidgeting with your fingers, your hair getting caught up in your face, strands getting into your eyes cause of the wind

“You literally make it so much harder to hit the ball since you can’t even get under the ball in time. We might as well have a ds (defensive specialist aka a passer) give us bump sets instead of the doubles you give us,” one mocked to which everyone else agreed and laughed

A team wasn’t supposed to feel like this...

“Maybe they were right... it’s not too late for me to just manage boys anyways...” you shook your head, even breaking into a smile with no happiness behind it

“You’re an exceptional player, y/n. I’ve seen it.” He did his best to clear your hair from your eyes. “Bokuto has mentioned it numerous times, too.” He did his best to ease your doubts. Akaashi wasn’t fond of your “teammates”

“We both know what you’re like once you’re in the zone.” The image of you setting for bokuto whenever you had spare time and paid them a visit at their practices last year came to mind. “You know it better than anyone else. Give yourself some time and loosen up.” He rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it

“Prove to them how wrong they are, because they are.” He leaned down to find your eyes, giving you a reassuring smile

“We should also head back in,” he mentioned seeing flashes of lightning, cracks of thunder even louder than moments ago, the storm closer than ever. “Someone’s waiting for you,” he held your hand as the two of you walked back

“Who?” You wiped away remnants of your sadness

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N!” Bokuto’s voice boomed as soon as the two of you stepped through the gym. He came over to there if you in no time, meeting you at the edge of the court

He was dressed in his own light blue practice shirt and white shorts, wearing his extended knee pads as if he was a third year practicing once again

“Toss for me!” His eyes sparkled as he rubbed your head. “I love your fosses, no offense, Akaashi”

“I- I don’t know...” you hesitated feeling the eyes of your teammates on you, whispering to each other on the court beside the one Fukurodani was occupying

“Training ended for the day so technically, it’s free time. Come on, toss for me so I can show these third years what an ace really is,” he said excitedly

But before you could say anything, he was already holding your wrist, leading you to the court as he gestured to his “the way of the ace” shirt

Looking back to Akaashi, all he could do was give you a kind smile, unable to really say otherwise since Bokuto had repeatedly talked to him about seeing you play

As Bokuto stretched out his arms on he side, you warmed up your fingers

“Don’t be nervous. Show them what you can do, Y/N. And this is Bokuto, you know exactly how he likes it,” Akaashi said quietly only to you. “You can do this.”

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (send me an ask if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo

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justkeeptrekkin · 4 years

Note

Object Permanence Prompts: I'm thinking like... a family day out? Maybe a zoo or aquarium?

Why yes, my dear, dear Tumblr friendo. I would most certainly like to write a family day out at the zoo/aquarium. thank you for the prompt <3

***

There are many benefits to being (at last) financially stable. For most of his teenage years Meng Yao focused all of his efforts on building a life that would grant him something close to autonomy. And when Meng Yao focuses his efforts, it is with a precision so sharp and precise that it is almost nauseating; the dizzy feeling of straining to look at a distant target and not letting yourself look away. Meng Yao has kept his eye on those targets for as long as he can remember.

He never imagined this being one of them. ‘This’ being the freedom to take a day off from work in order to go on a family day out to the zoo.

A-Xing is now not so much a toddler as a trotter. The determination to run is clear, and yet toddling just doesn’t seem to be cutting it anymore -- and so he trots about the flat, laughing as he goes, like he’s performed a magic trick. Sometimes it does feel a bit like magic to Meng Yao, who will invigilate these bursts of energy with amusement and awe. It still takes some getting used to, having a child, even after all this time.

Now, A-Xing is running down the quiet path past the goat and antelope enclosures. Meng Yao watches, holding the baby’s little windbreaker, and waits for the moment that A-Xing will inevitably fall over and either burst into heartbroken tears or get right back up like a ping-pong ball.

“What do you think so far?” Lan Xichen asks.

The weather is bright and cool, and the sun is caught behind Lan Xichen. Meng Yao winces in the light, then looks ahead at where A-Xing has stopped to inspect a pebble on the ground.

“It’s calmer than I expected,” he admits. “Though that may be because it’s a Tuesday morning.”

Lan Xichen nods sagely. Initially, the thought of going to the zoo had been pretty hellish. Wei Wuxian had given them the idea, and as a habit, Meng Yao ignores most of his ideas. But then he’d gone on about how formative these early years are in creating happy memories, of doing things as a family, of experiencing days out together, expanding children’s horizons, introducing them to the animals that they’re constantly learning in their pop up books -- and Meng Yao had secretly conceded that Wei Wuxian may, perhaps, have a kernel of a point.

That, and Lan Xichen admitted later that evening whilst they were reading in bed that he had never been to the zoo before. And Meng Yao shared that he hadn’t either. And so it was tacitly agreed that they would raise their child neither like Lan Qiren nor like Meng Shi -- as hard as they both did try.

So far, they have seen otters (Lan Xichen had made a subtle comment on Meng Yao finding his ‘true family’) and giraffes (Meng Yao had returned the gag), and have not had a chance to look at much else because A-Xing has been running a marathon through the whole park. They’d stopped for an ice-cream, which A-Xing tried and then promptly decided he didn’t want after all, so Lan Xichen is currently eating a child-size, soft-serve vanilla cone.

“I’m finding it far less chaotic that Wangji suggested it would be,” Lan Xichen says after he finishes the last of the ice-cream cone.

Meng Yao purses his lips. “Wangji was dragged by Wei Wuxian on a Saturday afternoon with Nie Huaisang. I can’t imagine anything more chaotic.”

Lan Xichen narrows his eyes and his shoulders move with a silent laugh.

Up ahead, there’s the quiet whining sounds of A-Xing trying to decide whether or not he’s going to cry. He’s on his hands and knees. Lan Xichen swoops him up into his arms and blows a raspberry against the baby’s cheek before he can even think about crying, and he starts to laugh instead. The thing they have discovered about A-Xing is that he is a swiftly moving pendulum between unspeakable distress and uncontainable joy. There is rarely anything in between, aside from perhaps face-crumpling frustration.

“Look, A-Xing,” Meng Yao says. He’s using his painfully positive voice and dimply smile, which he’s discovered can sway both adults and babies. “Look -- there are penguins. Shall we have a look at the penguins?”

Bumps and bruises forgotten, A-Xing struggles in Lan Xichen’s arms to look where Meng Yao is pointing. Ahead, there is an open top enclosure with glass walls, a little huddle of penguins, and a few solo penguins hopping out of the water and waddling around. They’re small and occasionally make a ridiculous squawk.

Meng Yao reads the placard, because, in Nie Huaisang’s words, he’s ‘like, super boring’. He sees it simply as not passing up on the opportunity to learn something.

A-Xing stares in that wide-eyed, zoned out awe that young children have. Lan Xichen holds their child and they both look into the enclosure together, heads huddled like they’re penguins, too. It’s a natural and wholesome sight, the picture of fatherhood that Meng Yao had never been able to imagine until he took in A-Xing.

“The Adélie penguin is one of the most common species of penguin, originating from the coast of Antarctica. They like to forage for their meals and are even known to steal from each other.” Meng Yao looks up at Lan Xichen, who is angling A-Xing so that he can see the penguins. “These are called penguins, A-Xing.”

“They have black and white fur,” Lan Xichen explains.

Another family stands further along from them, a slightly older child pressing her face to the glass and steaming it up with her breath. And then A-Xing begins to wriggle again, and so Lan Xichen puts him down and they watch him career ahead. Yes, it has taken getting used to, having a child. Another thing that has taken getting used to is being able to share all of the trials and tribulations of having a child with Lan Xichen. It still, therefore, leaves Meng Yao with that pleasant jolt of surprise when Lan Xichen reaches out his hand and links fingers with his.

In one of those startling, lovely moments of lucidity, he reminds himself: We’re parents.

Keeping the baby at a reasonable distance (Meng Yao itches to pick him up but allows A-Xing a certain amount of freedom), they find the aquarium. It’s dark and damp and warm and reminds him of some of the dorm rooms he had to live in at university. There are more fish here than there were there, though. And it’s more peaceful.

The light undulates through the tanks like some beautiful phenomenon in the night sky. Meng Yao holds a quiet A-Xing in his arms, brings him to the glass as they watch the jellyfish drift. Pink frills and tentacles stretch, and A-Xing goes very contemplative as he stares. That’s a very sobre expression for someone just over one year old; he must have picked that up from Lan Xichen, who has his hand on Meng Yao’s waist. The three of them watch the jellyfish in meditative silence.

The clown fish cause a little more excitement. A-Xing presses a tiny hand to the glass and makes quiet hiccuping noises of surprise when the little orange fish dart about in their anemones.

“A little orange fish,” Meng Yao points out. “It’s called a clown fish, A-Xing.”

“Fish.”

Lan Xichen goes very still next to him. They both look down at the baby.

“Fish?” Lan Xichen asks with raised brows, as if he’d misheard.

“Fish,” says A-Xing.

Meng Yao looks down at the little miracle in his arms. A-Xing utterly obvious to the somersaults his heart is doing, the tightness in his throat, the suffocating pride he feels that’s making him grin. Instead, he’s pressing his palm to the glass and frowning in concentration.

“Baba,” A-Xing says, tapping the glass. “Fish.”

“Yes, it’s a fish,” Meng Yao says as calmly and brightly as possible. “A-Xing, show baba and diedie the fish again.”

“Fish.”

Oh god. If there is anything that could make this moment better, it’s the little smile on Lan Xichen’s face, creeping up behind the dreamy look of awe. “Extraordinary,” Lan Xichen says. And then he kisses the top of A-Xing’s little black head of hair.

It is. A-Xing is extraordinary. Everything he does is extraordinary. Everything about this unexpected life is extraordinary.

My child is a genius, Meng Yao thinks as he kisses his cheeks and smiles himself giddy.

#mdzs #the untamed #xiyao #jgy #lxc #fic prompt #Object Permanence Prompts

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panharmonium · 3 years

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@dreamersscape please forgive me for tagging you in a post to respond to your comments; tumblr’s reply feature is hard to have an extended/coherent conversation on, and I’m so excited to talk to a kindred Naruto spirit that I knew I was gonna write too much for it all to fit in that space XD

re: hinata - Oh my gosh, YES, my sister and I were so frustrated by how they just completely never addressed that moment again. I wasn't surprised, because it's been clear from the beginning that this show doesn't really care much about women, so the female characters' storylines getting dropped or never explored in the first place is pretty much what I've always expected, but it's still infuriating.

Honestly, the only good thing about this show's general disinterest in women is that it means that I don't place any blame on in-story Naruto for never addressing what Hinata did for him, because I know the fact that we don't see him dealing with her confession isn't actually intended to communicate anything about his reaction/non-reaction/level of investment; it's literally just a function of the fact that the writer doesn't care about her story. It's the same way I feel about how we see so much less one-on-one time between Kakashi and Sakura - her lack of screentime with him isn't something about which a person can credibly argue "Oh, this means Kakashi doesn't care about her enough and he's a bad teacher etc etc," because the imbalance isn’t a deliberate writing decision we're supposed to analyze for characterization. It's a reflection of the fact that the entire show is super sexist. XD

re: danzo: It’s one thing to have your villain believe himself to the hero of his own story, and like, another to have Danzo basically tout having darkness in your heart being a great thing and encouraging it’s presence/cultivating it - lmao YES! And honestly, this is why I actually find Danzo LESS infuriating than the Third Hokage. Like, Danzo is Super Evil and every time he exploits another child I want to watch him die all over again, but at least he like....owns his horribleness? Whereas Hiruzen is the biggest hypocrite on the planet - when I rewatched the Shonen Jump stuff a while back (my sister and I took a little break prior to Season 11 and rewatched some old stuff), I couldn't stand listening to Hiruzen go on and on about how the entire Leaf Village is his family and it's his role to protect all of them etc etc, because like - he literally covered up the genocide of Sasuke's entire family and let the perpetrator remain in power (and that was before I even knew about all these other crimes he allowed to go unpunished!!!) Danzo may be the Worst, but at least he's not pretending to be anything other than what he is. Hiruzen is still acting like he's everybody's sweet old grandpa, and that makes me even more angry than Danzo's straight-up horribleness. (And I do agree with you, they definitely lean harder into the "Lord Third is amazing" stuff pre-Shippuden, I just still feel confused about what the show is ultimately trying to say about him because we haven't gotten an explicit enough condemnation of his choices yet, and I feel like it's way overdue XD )

re: minato - Hard agree that Minato is an enigma. I don't feel like I fully understand him either - and not in a bad way, just in the sense that he's hard to read. The toughest thing for me to parse was always how distant he seemed with his students, which was surprising to me at first, because he'd been built up as sort of this "ideal shinobi" figure for such a long time, but to me, an ideal shinobi teacher looks more like...well, Kakashi, to be honest. And it took a while for me to reconcile with the fact that Minato and Kakashi really do just relate to their students very differently. I think Minato has always been a soldier, and I think he sees children as soldiers, too - not in an evil way at all, just in the sense that this is how the shinobi world works, and how it has always worked. It's not a "wrong" way to perceive shinobi kids, in the context of the story's universe. And so when things happen to those kids, he absolutely cares, but it's also sort of just a grim fact of life for him. It's like when Kushina tells him she doesn't want to make Naruto a jinchuriki, and she asks 'why do we have to do that to him, why does he have to suffer that way for the sake of the balance of power between nations,' and Minato's response is “Because our family is Shinobi.” That was a really telling moment for me in terms of how he sees the world. It's not something I'm interested in condemning him for, like you said; I don't think the story is ever asking us to do that, it’s just a philosophy that's very different from how Kakashi sees things and what he thinks children's experiences should be like.

I guess what I ultimately think (from the material we’ve seen so far, at least) is that Minato seems to perceive the loss of his students as something that Kakashi is struggling with, not something he himself is agonizing over. It’s a very sad thing that happened, of course, but it’s just part of the way their world works/a function of the times they live in. It's not something Minato is tormenting himself about. Whereas I think that if Kakashi ever lost a kid, it would have killed him. And I don't think this fact is in any way supposed to paint Minato as a bad person. He's not! All it means is that there is a generational difference between the world Kakashi and Co. are trying to create and the world Minato always knew, and people like Minato are doing the best they can with the framework they have.

I do like the guy a lot - and I wonder what he might have been like if he had lived to see a permanent peace established.

re: little Yamato - oh boy, those episodes nearly ended me. I am already very, very, VERY weak for Kakashi and Yamato’s friendship, and seeing Kakashi rescue Yamato from that horrible place (literally and metaphorically) was too much for me to handle. Kakashi’s silhouette replacing Danzo in Yamato’s memories of being rescued from Orochimaru’s lab - that slew me. And the way Danzo tells Yamato “you have no past, no future, no name” juxtaposed with Kakashi introducing Yamato as Tenzo because he remembers from three years ago how Yamato once rebelled at being called Kinoe and yelled “MY NAME IS TENZO” - Kakashi just using that chosen name without hesitation, without question, without needing to be told...it all ties back into the recent thematic throughline the show is working with about Identity - the importance of the Tailed Beasts having names, Kabuto’s desperate and misguided search for “who and what he is,” Itachi reclaiming his true self by undoing the reanimation justu and declaring “I am Itachi Uchiha of the Leaf Village,” Obito claiming that his real name doesn’t matter anymore, that he’s Nobody...it’s fantastic how they’re pulling all this together.

re: Kakashi and little Naruto - oh man, the feelings. I agree with you that Kakashi was in no place to be dealing with this, but certainly under different circumstances I think he would have loved to be a part of baby Naruto’s life. I actually think the reasoning behind “let’s put Kakashi in a situation where he’s in close contact with someone bringing new life into the world” is sound - I think that would be a really good thing for him! Just not in the sense of “you’re Kushina’s personal bodyguard, so if anything happens to her and the baby you can blame yourself for it.” XD Like...Minato could have invited Kakashi in for dinner sometimes, instead of having him constantly stand guard under their window??? If it had been more “we care about you and we want you to be a part of our family”....ugh, that would have been amazing. Kakashi is already SO good with Naruto (who is NOT by any means an easy kid to manage) - he just has such good instincts about how to talk to that kid and teach him in ways that work WITH Naruto’s particular brand of high motivation/low frustration tolerance, ping-pong emotional extremes, explosive energy levels, zero impulse control, and an inability to process more than one thing at a time. Handling Naruto effectively would be a challenging project for any teacher, never mind taking care of Naruto and two other kids, but Kakashi is a natural at it. It would have been awesome to see what Kakashi was like with Naruto when they were even younger...though the Feels might knocked me out.

[also, you mentioned Naruto and Obito - I cannot even tell you the Extremest Agonies I was in when the big reveal happened and I had to hear Naruto blankly go “who is he” - utterly clueless, without the faintest idea that he’s looking at the person who shaped his entire moral philosophy. The amount of things that these kids don’t know...that fact that Naruto has been quoting this very person all his life and making all his major life decisions based on the lesson Kakashi relayed to them on Day One - Obito’s words - oh boy oh boy I was not capable of handling that even the littlest bit.]

#*high fives your brain right back*#feel free to gush about this show anytime - i am right there with ya! :D #replies #naruto #pan watches naruto

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dontmindthefangirling · 4 years

Text

Pandemic {t.h.}

part 2

Tom Holland x Medic!Reader

Summary: Y/N has to go back to the states as the coronavirus pandemic gets worse and Tom worries about her having to work

Warnings: angst; mention of death; swearing; more angst

Note: This a one-shot based off of my series Broken Nose but you don’t really have to have read it to know what’s going on; this is also a big shout-out to all of the people working to keep us safe during this pandemic and this idea came to me because working on the front lines can be scary and difficult

part 1

“Tom, you have to stop watching the news,” Harry said approaching his brother who was sitting on the edge of the couch, his knee bouncing up and down and his eyebrows permanently scrunched together.

“How?” Tom snapped, turning his head. “It’s everywhere.”

Ever since you left to go back to New York, Tom had been irritable, almost everything getting him angry or worked out. Harry was beginning to lose count of the amount of times he’s seen Tom angrily boxing out his emotions, punching a bag that was beginning to tear.

“I know, mate,” Harry sighed, sitting next to Tom on the couch and shutting the TV off.

“God, (Y/N) is in the middle of it all,” Tom almost whimpered, burying his face in his hands. He angrily ran his hands through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan.

“Have you talked to her?” Harry asked.

Tom shrugged. “Here and there. She’s working sixteen hour shifts every day.”

New York City was all over the news as the world struggled to control the pandemic. It had the most cases in the states, and it was a complete ghost town as everyone was ordered to stay at home. Everyone except you and all the other essential workers.

But you were on the front lines. You were constantly around people being sick and injured because emergency calls didn’t stop even for a pandemic.

Tom constantly worried about you all day and every day. He couldn’t sleep, he was barely hungry, and he felt nauseous with anxiety. The only people keeping him sane were Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine. They forced him to eat, they forced him to get out of bed, and they kept him going.

Yet you still remained in his thoughts. His biggest fear was of you getting infected with the virus. He wouldn’t be able to go see you, and he was terrified of losing you.

“She’s smart, mate,” Harry reassured Tom, placing a hand on his back. “She knows how to take precautions.”

Tom nodded numbly, staring down at his phone, waiting for you to text back and tell him you were okay for another day.

On the other side of the Atlantic, you were giving chest compressions in the back of an ambulance as it raced down the empty streets of New York City. You were sweating, and breathing was difficult through your mask, but you didn’t stop.

“(Y/N),” your partner James said, watching you. “I can take over if you need a break.”

The patient beneath you was a young patient, probably only in his thirties. He went into cardiac arrest when you had arrived to the scene. The call was initially for shortness of breath, and then things went south when the patient coded and his heart stopped.

You looked down at him, seeing the blue around his lips as you pressed deeply into his chest.

“No, I got it,” you grunted.

James sighed, adjusting the bags of medication that was dripping into the patient’s IV.

Moments later you were pulling into the emergency department of one of the many hospitals in New York. The driver of your ambulance jumped out and rushed to open the doors. You continued compressions as the stretcher was pulled from the truck.

Because of COVID-19, you were no longer allowed to enter the emergency room, and had to do all of your reporting outside while the doctors and techs came out and took your patients from them.

You already called the patient in, telling them that he was a potential COVID-19 patient due to the shortness of breath, so the hospital could properly prepare with appropriate protective equipment.

One of the doctors took the patient from you while you gave the report to the nurse.

"How long has he been down?” the doctor asked you while one of her techs began compressions.

You sighed. “Fifteen minutes.”

“No signal on the EKG?”

“None.”

The doctor sighed, turning to her staff and telling them to call it off.

“Time of death, 14:03,” the doctor called glancing down at her watch while one of the scribes wrote it down. Your heart sank as they moved the patient so your crew could get their stretcher back. A sheet was placed over his face and that was it for you.

You bit back as a sob as you stormed back over to your truck, ripping your mask off and resting your forehead against the truck. James was hot on your heels, running over to you.

“(Y/N)-”

“Fuck!” you yelled, punching the ambulance. Tears swelled in your eyes as you turned around, and looked up at the sky. It was too nice of a day for how you were feeling.

You were exhausted and worn out and your feet hurt from your boots. You had been working from eight in the morning until midnight every day for the last two weeks and you were spent.

You were happy to be working with James, he was your best friend and he had been your partner for years, but this whole pandemic was taking its toll on everyone you knew that was working. Every day was getting harder and harder and you didn’t know when it would end.

There were a few co-workers that had been diagnosed with COVID-19 but they were isolated. Another few had been possibly exposed and were required to self-quarantine for two weeks.

You and James had a few scares, but for every patient tested that you had had, they all came back negative. You knew they would test the poor patient that you just lost for the virus as well, and you and James would know if he was positive or negative in the next day or so.

James was silent as he stood next to you. You knew he was tired too. Every day was a new challenge, but you were in this together.

“We have to go clean the stretcher,” you muttered under your breath.

“I know,” James sighed. “In a minute.”

You were both watching the puffy white clouds float by, and for a moment you felt a little peaceful.

You missed Tom. God, you missed him so much. The time difference made it almost impossible to FaceTime since you got off work at midnight and it was five in the morning in London. Tom said he would get up to talk to you, but it also didn’t help that you needed all the sleep you could get before your next sixteen hour shift.

There were a few times where you were waiting for calls and you managed to sneak in a few FaceTimes while working, but those were rare.

You inhaled sharply before putting your mask back on. You were only given one mask for the day, and you had to re-use it.

“Ready?” James asked, glancing at you.

“Ready.”

Tom was sitting around the fire with his friends when his phone rang. He almost wanted to ignore it, not really in the mood to speak to anyone until he saw that it was you.

“(Y/N),” he almost exclaimed, excitedly answering and stepping away from the fire for a minute.

“Hi Tommy,” you said, your voice bringing a sort of happiness that he could feel in his bones.

“How are you?” he choked out, worried that if he asked too many questions you would have to end the call before you could answer them.

“Tired,” you admitted. “We’re on our way back to the station to pick up some more cleaning supplies before we go back on the road.”

“How’s your day been so far?” he asked.

You sighed. “Not great.”

Your answers were always short, especially when you were upset, and that only made Tom worry more. He knew that you didn’t like to talk about what happened at work, especially when it wasn’t a great day, much to his protests. But he didn’t want to push you either. You’d tell him when you were ready.

“I just...can’t save everyone and it’s getting to me,” you continued, to Tom’s surprise.

“I know darling,” Tom whispered. “That’s what makes you a great medic. You want to save everybody.”

“I guess,” you mumbled. There was a short silence between you before you spoke up again.

“I miss you.”

Tom blinked away his tears and held the phone closely to his ear, like he was holding you closer.

“I miss you, too.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice soft, making Tom miss the nights where he would hold you close.

“I’m hanging in there,” Tom said, running a hand through his hair. “The boys are keeping me sane, but I’m worried about you.”

He glanced over to where his friends were sitting by the fire, Tuwaine and Harry were throwing ping pong balls at Harrison, who was swatting them away while yelling at them to stop. The sight brought a small smile to Tom’s lips.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said sternly. “It’s bad for your health.”

Tom chuckled. He could picture you with your arms crossed and your eyebrows furrowed in a way that he thought was really cute.

“Sorry doc.”

You giggled, the sound sending a warmth spreading throughout Tom’s chest.

“I’m serious though. I’m okay,” you continued. “It’s hard, sure, but I have a lot of support here.”

“I know,” Tom sighed. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Aren’t I always?”

Tom smiled. “Of course darlin’.”

“You’re the one that does flips and shit. Remember when you broke your nose?” you continued, a teasing tone lining your words. Tom chuckled.

“Which time?”

You laughed, and it almost hurt how much Tom missed hearing your voice, your laugh, your everything.

“I’m sorry babe, I have to go,” you said sadly, making Tom’s heart drop. “We’re at the station.”

“That’s okay love,” Tom said though his heart felt heavy. “Go save some lives.”

“I will,” you said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The call ended and Tom was left feeling empty, although glad he got to talk to you when he did. He stared at his dark phone screen for a moment, wishing he was still talking to you.

The sound of his friends laughing brought him back to reality as he walked back over to them.

“How’s (Y/N)?” Tuwaine asked.

“She’s okay,” Tom responded, taking his seat. “Tired, but okay.”

After you and James restocked your truck, you hopped back in and headed back out onto the streets to await your next call. New York was empty and it brought chills to your spine every time you drove through Times Square.

James sat in the driver’s seat as you headed to your posting location; basically the place you camped out until you got a 9-1-1 call.

“Tom okay?” James asked.

“Yeah, he said he’s okay,” you sighed, staring out the window as you drove down an empty 5th Ave. “I dunno, I’m worried about him.”

“He’s worried about you, you’re worried about him,” James said. “That’s not good.”

“I told him not to worry about me,” you protested.

James gave you a look and rolled his eyes.

“What?” you demanded.

“(Y/N) for someone so smart, you really can be dumb sometimes,” James laughed.

“Excuse me!”

“You’re a paramedic during a pandemic,” James sighed, bringing the seriousness back to his voice. “My friends and family are worried about me, too. You can’t blame him for worrying.”

You knew James was right, but you hated to admit it. It would only inflate his ego more. You looked out the window, spotting all of your favorite places in the city that you called home. You hated what this virus was doing to it.

“I just want him to be okay,” you mumbled.

“And he will be,” James assured you. “He’s got his friends and family with him. They’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“Isn’t that my job?” you sighed, turning back to look at James. “I’m his girlfriend.”

James gave you a close-lipped smile. “Right now, your job is to make sure the millions of people in this city are okay.”

Your heart twisted at his words. The weight of the situation sometimes didn’t hit you because you were constantly on the move. But when you gave yourself a moment to sit back and reflect on what was going on, it would be a little too much for you to handle. And the thought of Tom thinking of that all day made you upset. You didn’t want him to carry the burden of your problems.

Suddenly a call came in through the radio. James responded and flicked the lights and sirens on as you made your way towards the emergency.

You were looking ahead at the street when your phone buzzed with a notification. You glanced down, seeing it was Instagram. “tomholland2013 tagged you in a post.”

You frowned, quickly opening it as James turned down another street. It was a picture Tom had snapped of you and James on set of Spider-Man: Far From Home in your uniforms. James had his arm around your shoulder and Jacob was playing with one of your stethoscopes in the back.

The caption read: So proud of all of the healthcare workers out there keeping us safe. I may play a superhero in the movies but you guys are the superheroes in real life. Thank you healthcare workers! #stayhome

Your eyes welled up with tears as a smile broke out onto your face. You and Tom weren’t public with your relationship yet, but this was all you needed to keep you going for the rest of your shift.

You texted Tom quickly as you pulled up to the scene.

Y/N: I love you

You jumped out of the ambulance just as Tom texted you back.

Tom: I love you too, my little superhero

You took a deep breath, adjusting your mask as you hoisted the medicine kit up onto your shoulder.

Maybe you could do this.

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

Text

So Close - S.S. XLV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 45

Word-count: 5.7k+

A/N: guys. guys. guys!!! happy birthday to the longest thing i’ve ever written!! this baby turns one year old today and that is fucking mind blowing. my life has been pretty weird this past year but this fic has been my one consistency so i guess what i’m trying to say is thank you for sticking around with me this long 💕

You’d done plenty of dumb things with Scott and Stiles - jumped off a roof and broken Scott’s arm, snuck a raccoon into the school and left it in Coach’s office, gotten trapped in the mall overnight, just to name a few - but you had never felt quite so dumb as when you had to explain to Noah why there were claw marks on the Beacon Hills Service van while Stiles got his wrist set.

“What … in the hell … were you three thinking?” Noah asked. “From you two-” he waved an accusatory hand at Scott and Stiles “-I can understand. But you?”

“I wanted to make sure no one got hurt,” you said instantly. Considering all the bad guys you'd gone up against without squirming, it was a little embarrassing that it only took Noah a minute to get you sweating.

“Uh, I got hurt,” Stiles said defensively, turning away from the medic to argue.

“No one other than you,” you corrected.

“Okay, you kids can battle this out after someone tells me what you thought you were doing speeding down the highway and chasing after a Beacon Hills Service vehicle,” Noah said. “On a school night.” He looked at each of you and you nodded sheepishly.

Scott shrugged and looked at his shoes before answering, “We were just trying to help.”

“Well, why don’t you try and help me understand-” Noah caught his voice, leaned in, and angrily whispered “-what the hell happened here?”

Stiles picked at the brace on his wrist. “Right, well, we were trying to gently persuade him to pull over …”

“He was getting away,” you added awkwardly. “So, Scott tried to stop him.”

Noah didn’t look impressed. “He got away.”

“Right! Because, obviously, he’s some sort of criminal mastermind, Dad,” Stiles argued.

“Uh-huh.” Noah started walking away and motioned to you guys to follow him. “You want to guess what the stolen merchandise is?” He led you to the back of the van and opened it up to reveal gas canisters. “Hmm?”

Scott sighed next to you and you pulled a face. Stiles, however, was not so ready to give up. “Critical life-saving medical equipment?” he asked.

“No.”

“Poison gas?”

“Nope.”

“... Filled with drugs?”

Noah leaned in. He looked to the sides like he was checking that no one was spying on you, and said, “Helium.”

“Helium?” Stiles repeated, his face going from confident to unbelievably frustrated in less than a second. He was so sure that this time had been the real deal.

“Like the stuff they put in balloons?” Scott asked.

“Exactly.” Noah closed the doors and let out a sigh when he turned to look at you again. “Just go home. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

You and Scott started walking Stiles back to the Jeep while he mumbled about how his dad hadn’t called them in months. And you guys all knew that Noah wouldn’t call for anything less than the apocalypse, so none of you even bothered to comfort him with the possibility of being called.

Stiles was so agitated that he actually let Scott drive you guys home, even if he tried to keep quiet about it. After about five minutes of awkward silence, Scott looked over at Stiles for a second before turning back to the road.

“This could be a good thing,” he said hopefully.

“That we saved helium?” Stiles asked.

Scott laughed, a smile still on his face as he spoke. “I mean, that … they don’t need us anymore.”

It was strange to picture your life where you weren’t constantly trying to defeat some omnipotent bad guy, but not in a bad way. As scared as the thought made you, it also excited you. You might actually have a life outside of the supernatural again, a life after high school.

That hope was extinguished ever so slightly when Stiles scoffed. “Okay, well, they need us,” he said. “They just don’t know it.”

“We’re all going off to college soon-”

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Most of us are going off to college soon,” Scott corrected. He caught your eye in the mirror and gave you an apologetic smile. “So, Beacon Hills is gonna have to survive without us.”

“Beacon Hills will burn to the ground without us,” Stiles said softly. He looked out the window instead of at you or Scott.

Scott tried to be equally soft when he spoke again. “Stiles … they don’t need us.”

Stiles’ phone started buzzing before he could say anything in his defense. Noah was calling him. Just like that, he went from dejected to excited again. “They need us!” he yelled.

Over the phone, Noah explained that there was a kid in the office, Alex, who was in an accident with his parents but couldn’t remember anything. His parents were missing and no one had seen anything. Noah was still in the middle of maybe, possibly asking if Scott would mind using his powers to access Alex’s memory when Stiles said you’d be right there and made Scott turn the Jeep around.

Stiles gave you a cheesy grin as Scott made a u-turn and your heart ached. Stiles couldn’t shift his focus like the rest of you, which was why he’d had you guys looking into every vaguely-abnormal incident since he’d gotten out of the hospital. Fighting bad guys left him drained and nearly dead, but it was still all he wanted to do. He couldn’t picture a life without it.

And you loved him for it. You loved the way he thought and the way his mind worked, but you worried how he’d react every time you chased down a bad guy on the highway and all you found was helium. You weren’t sure how many false alarms he had left in him.

It was difficult to focus on Stiles once you were in Noah’s office, though. Alex was so young and he looked so scared. He’d barely spoken, other to say that he couldn’t remember anything and that he needed to find his parents.

Scott put a hand on Alex’s arm and gave him an encouraging smile. “You ready?”

Alex frowned but then he nodded, tears in his eyes. And then Scott sunk his claws into Alex’s neck. Alex’s head rolled back and Scott took a deep breath.

“Uh, what do we do now?” Noah asked.

“Time it?” you suggested.

Stiles pulled out his phone and gave you a shaky smile. “Already on it.”

The three of you huddled around Stiles’ phone and took turns looking between the timer and Scott like you were watching a ping pong match. When the timer hit four minutes, exactly, Scott pulled his claws out and sprang away from Alex as they both tried to breathe again.

You and Stiles pulled Scott up to his feet. “What happened?” you asked, holding onto Scott's hand.

“I saw a guy on a horse,” Scott said, not taking his eyes off Alex.

“A horse?” Stiles asked. Behind Scott's back, he shot a look at you that said, Cowboys? Is he serious?

Scott slowly looked away from Alex and at Stiles. “He had a gun.”

“Okay, a guy with a gun. That sounds like my department, not yours,” Noah said with a confused but hopeful expression on his face.

“What about his parents? What happened to them?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know. That’s all I remember,” Scott said. He tried to focus on the memory and shook his head after a few seconds “But … I got this feeling.”

“What kind of feeling?” you asked, ducking your head slightly to look at him.

“They’re coming back,” Alex said. You almost jumped - it was the first thing he’d said since you’d been in the room with him. He looked up and stared at you guys; his eyes were haunted. “They’re coming for me.”

“I think this is our department,” Stiles said quietly.

Noah was still hesitant to hand the case over to you - you figured he liked the idea of you guys leading semi-normal lives, at least until graduation - but he let you look at Alex’s car with Lydia and Malia.

Stiles didn’t need any more encouragement to take you and Scott to the evidence lot. It only took Lydia ten minutes to get to the lot, but she sat in the car for what felt like an eternity, running her hand along the hood and then the windshield, feeling up the doors and the interior. You and Scott stood outside, him trying to catch a scent and you waiting for Malia.

You heard a familiar howl and then Malia ran into the lot as a coyote. Every time you saw her in this form, you smiled at the thought of how proud it would make Derek. Another Hale in full control in full-shift. She shifted back to human in a few seconds and you handed her some clothes.

“Did you find anything?” you asked as she jumped into some pants.

Malia pulled her head through the hole of a sweatshirt and shook her head. “They’re dead. Probably torn apart.”

“I don’t think they’re dead,” Lydia said as she got out of the car.

“The only thing I don’t get is why there’s no blood,” Malia continued. She shoved her arms through the sleeves.

“They’re not dead,” Lydia argued. “If they were dead, I’d sense it.”

“And if they were alive, I’d smell it,” Malia said.

“Yeah, I’m not getting anything either,” Scott said, determined to look anywhere except for Malia.

“Scott, what are you talking about? You were in his head for four minutes,” Stiles said as he climbed out of the car. “I timed it.”

“Well, it’s not an exact science,” Scott said, looking over at Malia and Lydia for the first time. “And he’s a kid. Maybe he’s too freaked out to remember.”

“No, Peter could see in Isaac’s head and he was just as freaked out,” you said. “If he can’t remember then there has to be another reason why.”

“What does any of this matter if they’re both dead?” Malia asked. She’d moved onto her shoes and looked up as she laced them. “Dead is dead.”

“Okay, if it’s just a robbery, then we can’t help them. But if it’s something supernatural, then my dad can’t help them,” Stiles explained.

“It sounds like you want it to be supernatural,” Lydia said.

She didn’t mean it to come out so accusatory, you told yourself, but you still stepped in. “We just want to make sure that Alex has a fair chance of seeing his parents again,” you said. “And the longer we go without something supernatural happening … it just feels like this could be it, you know?”

“Three months. It’s been three months since anything’s happened,” Stiles said, looking up from his hands to look at you.

“Yeah, and once a week you drag me out of bed like I’m some sort of supernatural metal detector!” Lydia snapped.

“Okay, it’s way more often than that,” Stiles admitted. Then he tried to recover his argument, “But you can’t tell me that you think this is just some series of impossible coincidences.”

“What I’m saying is maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” Lydia said. She gave him a very deliberate look and then started walking away. Malia shrugged and followed after her.

You sighed and Scott shrugged at Stiles as he turned around to face you guys. Stiles seemed exasperated, like he always did when he wanted something to be supernatural and the others blew him off. He walked back over to the car and slammed the door after he got in.

You walked over to the car, putting your hands on the doorframe and debating whether to rest one on Stiles’ shoulder. He stared so intensely at the windshield that you weren’t sure if he noticed you. “Hey,” you said gently. “You okay?”

“There’s something wrong with the windshield,” Stiles mumbled.

“Well, yeah. It’s broken,” Scott said as he walked closer. He took a spot next to you, standing next to the side mirror. “And it wasn’t a magic bullet. It was a regular bullet. That blew out a regular windshield.”

But if it was a regular bullet and regular windshield, there would be a bullet hole and fracture lines just like every other shot-up car in this lot. You were willing to bet that it wasn’t the windshield that was magic.

“Just like that one.” Scott looked over at one of the other cars. “And that one. And that one-” he stopped. He realized the same thing you did.

Stiles reached forward and picked up a shard of glass from the dashboard. “Magic bullet,” he said quietly.

---

Talking Stiles out of spending the entire night researching ghost cowboys on the internet and ordering about a dozen library books wasn’t an easy task. In an attempt to compromise, he ordered three books from the library and stayed on the phone with you until he fell asleep. As weird and terrifying as the idea of another supernatural evil coming to Beacon Hills was, it was nice to see Stiles so excited about something again.

“Hey, do you know where my lucky coin is?” Stiles asked as you got in the Jeep the next morning.

You moved your backpack around by your feet to get comfortable. “Your lucky coin?”

“Yeah. The game token from that night we went to the arcade on one of our first dates. I got home, found it in my pockets, and like almost immediately you called and told me you loved me because you forgot to say it when we said goodbye,” Stiles said. He tapped on the steering wheel anxiously as he waited for the frown to disappear from your face. “My lucky coin.”

“I think that would technically make it your lucky token,” you said, keeping an eye on him as you buckled your seatbelt.

“Okay, then do you know where my lucky token is?” Stiles asked. He was getting more and more frustrated at your bantering.

“Not a clue. I can check my room after school.” That didn’t seem to do much to ease whatever was worrying him. You turned and put a gentle hand on the side of his face, turning it away from his tapping hand to look at you. “Hey, are you going to tell me why you need your lucky token?”

Stiles smiled. He stopped tapping and cupped your hand, turning to kiss it. “Would you believe me if I said it was back to school jitters?”

“No,” you said, giving him a matching smile.

“Then give me a minute to come up with a better line.”

He was joking, but whatever he’d learned in his hour of frantic googling had clearly freaked him out. Stiles gave your hand one last squeeze before turning back to face the front and pulling the Jeep out of your driveway.

Without another mention of the lucky token or the ghost cowboys, the two of you fell into your familiar routine of walking each other to your lockers and then going to find your friends. Some days, you disappeared to catch up with Liam and Mason but today you went with Stiles to find the others. You wanted to ask Scott to keep an eye on him.

You found him and Lydia sitting at one of the tables outside where Sydney was taking the yearbook photos. Stiles immediately went to harass Malia and you sat on the table between Scott and Lydia. They were talking about one of their advanced placement classes that they were both taking this semester and you barely got the chance to say anything before Malia stomped over with Stiles on her heels.

“Why would I want to ruin your yearbook photo?” Stiles asked.

“Maybe because you haven’t signed up for your own photo yet?” Malia asked. She broke her eye contact with Stiles to smile and give you a nod that was her version of saying good morning as she sat on the table on the other side of Lydia.

Stiles dug a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Yes, I did,” he said as he unfolded it. He handed it to her and it was a blank order form for yearbook photos. You leaned over Lydia’s shoulder to see that not a single one of the boxes had been filled in.

“It’s blank,” Malia told him.

“Uh…” Stiles took the paper back and frowned at it.

“Or maybe you’re sublimating the stress of graduating by avoiding key milestones,” Scott said, looking up from the notes he’d been writing to look at Stiles. You turned to frown at him when you saw the textbook he was taking notes from. That explained why he sounded far more like Lydia than himself. He shrugged. “Psych paper.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you said with an attempt at an easy smile as you reached a hand out to Stiles. He took a few steps closer and let you hold one of his hands. “You can be in mine with me.”

“See, this is what being supportive looks like,” Stiles said, giving you a smile before turning to glare at Scott. “Take notes.”

“Plus, if you’re in one photo, it’ll be so much easier to make fun of you for being the most nauseating couple in the world that way,” Malia said.

You laughed. “Yeah, thanks, Mal.”

“Anytime.” Malia winked at you.

You thought Stiles was going to argue with her but he just got a serious look on his face again and changed the subject. “Hey, so the Deputy searched the car - no slugs, no exit holes. And the address Alex gave my dad? It’s an abandoned house,” Stiles said. Your friends were quiet. “Come on! Missing parents, suspicious guy on horseback, magic bullet … who’s coming with?”

“I’ve got to retake my photos,” Malia said.

Lydia shook her head and pulled a face. “Yeah … not interested.”

Stiles turned to Scott but he was too quick. “I cannot miss any more classes,” Scott said before Stiles even had the chance to ask. “I missed thirty-eight last semester.”

“Scott-”

“Lydia’s mom is the only reason I’m still in school,” Scott continued. “I can go with you after school.”

“You know what? Forget it,” Stiles said. “I’ll take Y/N and Liam.”

“Uh … you sure about that?” You nodded over to the quad where Liam was trying to suck Hayden’s face off. It didn’t look like he was going to an abandoned house any time soon.

“Ugh, I change my vote for the most nauseating couple,” Malia mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m not taking Liam,” Stiles said, pulling the exact same face that Lydia did at the mention of the abandoned house. He straightened up and squeezed your hand. “But you’ll still go with me, right?”

You hesitated. As much as you wanted to, you’d also missed more school than the school board deemed appropriate. Luckily, Sydney popped up with her camera before you needed to answer.

“Hey, can I get a candid?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure!” Scott said over Stiles protests. He pulled Stiles down onto the spot on the bench between him and Lydia where your legs were.

You moved to make space for Stiles and held onto his shoulders as he slumped into his seat. “Okay, fine,” he said. He pulled out a shard of glass from his pockets and gave it to Scott. In a low voice, he added, “If you can explain to me why this is blue, I’ll let it go.”

“Everyone smile!” Sydney said.

You guys huddled slightly closer and pulled out your best smiles. Sydney loved it and then asked for another, more fun shot. Obviously, your first instinct was to harass Stiles and Scott from your higher vantage point while Lydia and Malia did the Charlie’s Angels finger gun pose.

---

The plan was to go with Stiles to the abandoned house during your free period, but after one very angry text about how Lydia’s mother was ruining your lives, you figured the plan had changed. Stiles promised to meet you at the Jeep after school, so you went home to look for his lucky token instead.

Every couch cushion, jacket pocket, and shoe was checked but you couldn't find the token anywhere. You were lying on the floor next to all your pillows and blankets when something shiny caught your eye under your bed. Underneath Cora’s old geometry notebook, you found a game token for the Feliscore Arcade.

You flipped it over in your hands a few times, thinking about the night Stiles had gotten it. Movies, bookstore browsing, and then the arcade. It was one of the first real dates the two of you had gone on. Smiling, you slipped the token into your pocket and headed back to the school.

You only had a few classes left until the end of the day, so you didn’t mention the token to Stiles. You’d tell him in person after checking out the house with him, maybe if the house turned out to be nothing then you could cheer him up with the token and some diner food.

The classes dragged on but you met Scott and Stiles at the Jeep as promised and the drive was rushed and full of complaints about how Natalie and Noah really should be more understanding considering that you guys had saved them on more than one occasion. You and Scott didn’t interrupt but you did catch each other’s eye in the rearview mirror.

The house was face-brick and old, the street gravel and empty, and all the plants overgrown. If that wasn’t enough to creep you out, the clear sky from this morning was full of dark clouds that cast shadows all over the abandoned house.

The front door was unlocked and it creaked as Scott pushed it open, revealing a house that was completely bare except for the spiderwebs. At least, there was a table in the dining room, with two very dusty places set.

“You wanna split up?” Scott asked.

“No way,” you said at the same time that Stiles said, “Absolutely not.”

Scott shrugged and led the way to the dark and decaying staircase. You held Stiles’ hand as the two of you followed, reminding yourself that you were way scarier than anything that might have been lurking in this ghost house.

The second floor was just as empty as the first, but almost all the doors were shut which made it darker.

“Maybe Alex got the address wrong,” you said quietly.

“Yeah, or he lied,” Stiles said, poking his head into one of the empty rooms as you made your way down the passage.

“Why would he lie?” Scott asked.

You reached the door at the end of the hall. It looked more beaten up than the others, with its paint peeling away and scratches on the frame. Hesitantly, Stiles reached forward and opened it.

The room was clean. It had furniture and a neat bed, blue painted walls, and decorations on every available surface. This room didn’t belong with the rest of the ghost house; it was the room of a thirteen-year-old boy.

“He didn’t lie,” Stiles said over his shoulder as he sped into the room.

“Why didn’t the cops say anything about this?” Scott asked as he looked around.

Stiles tore his gaze away from a bookshelf to say, “They don’t know it’s here. They can’t come in without a warrant and there’s no owner of record to serve a warrant to, so unless there’s some kind of threat or imminent danger, they wouldn’t come in.”

Something rattling downstairs made you jump.

Stiles reached out and touched your arm. “Hey, you okay?”

“Someone’s downstairs,” you whispered.

“I’ll go check it out. You guys stay here,” Scott said. He didn’t give you a chance to argue before he left and closed the door behind him.

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment. Stiles was still holding onto your arms but he was looking at Alex’s corkboard when you opened your eyes again.

“Do any of these look weird to you?” he asked in a low voice, taking one of his hands off to point at the pictures.

You took a step closer to see them more clearly. “He’s alone in all of them,” you said. Your eyes caught on a photo on the table underneath the board. The frame said Number 1 Dad but there was no one in it except for Alex. “It’s like everyone else was taken out.”

“Yeah, I-” Stiles stopped and looked behind you. Slowly, he walked over to the bed and crouched in front of it. He got on all fours and pulled the sheet up to look underneath. For a second, he stayed in that position like he was frozen, and then he bolted up to his feet. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” you asked.

“The- the horse. I saw it’s hooves and heard it snarl. Is that the right word? Do horses snarl?” he asked. His breathing was quick like before his panic attacks.

“Hey-” You put a hand on either side of his face so he looked at you and not the empty space in front of the window. “I didn’t see anything, but I believe you, okay? Let’s just find Scott and get out of here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Stiles said with a nod. He grabbed one of your hands and started you out. He stopped so you could close the door, but he was staring down the hallway when you turned around again. His eyes were fixed on something you couldn’t see.

Stiles pulled you behind him and then the first shot went off. You weren’t sure where it came from, but the two of you fell into the wall and slid down to the floor. Stiles pulled your head into his chest as two more shots went off.

“Where is this coming from?” you asked, trying to look over his arm.

“You can’t see him?” Stiles asked. His heart raced as more and more shots went off.

Then it was silent.

“What happened?” Scott yelled as he ran up the stairs with Liam and Mason.

You and Stiles scrambled back to your feet as they closed the distance.

“He was here. He shot at us,” Stiles said. “It was one of the guys you saw in Alex’s memory.”

“The guy who took his parents?” Mason asked.

“No. No, they weren’t just taken. They were- they were made to disappear. That’s why there’s no furniture. That’s why they weren’t in any of the photos,” Stiles said quickly. He took a breath and looked at you. “They were erased.”

Stiles spun on his heel and tore open the door again. The walls were still blue and it was relatively dust-free, but it was empty. All of Alex’s stuff was gone. Even though you’d seen it only minutes before, your brain tried to tell you that Alex’s stuff had never been there at all.

---

Stiles’ first stop was the library, which meant your first stop was the library. Scott, Liam, and Mason disappeared for lacrosse practice, and Lydia wasn’t there for very long before Natalie texted her to come home for dinner. She asked if Stiles could walk her out since it was dark and there were lunatics with guns on the loose.

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “He’ll be down in a sec.”

Lydia smiled and started walking to the stairs, leaving you and Stiles alone with all his research books. He started closing them and piling them together when you reached out and put your hand over his.

“I’ll pack these up, okay?” you said.

“Uh, sure,” Stiles said. “Why did you want me to stay then?”

“I just want you to promise me that whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together.” You took his hand off the book and held it in both of yours. “I know it’s easier to do it by yourself than to wait for me to catch up, but please-”

“I promise,” Stiles said. It surprised you how easy that was. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together. No matter what, alright?”

“Alright.” You smiled and pulled him closer so you could kiss him. With your head against his forehead, you sighed and said, “I guess I should let you go before Lydia leaves without you.”

Stiles laughed. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled away. “Meet me in front?”

“Be safe,” you said with a smile. “I love you.”

Stiles gave you one more smile as he started walking backward. “I love you, too.”

Then he turned around and disappeared down the stairs after Lydia.

It didn’t take you long to pack up the books, but once the last one was on its shelf, you struggled to remember why you’d taken it out in the first place. Chalking it up to a lapse in memory due to too much late-night studying, you tried to shrug off the feeling as you grabbed your bag.

But there was still something wrong when you stepped out into the hallway. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were supposed to do something. Before you got the chance to figure it out, your phone buzzed and an unknown number flashed across the screen.

‘At the station. Alex is next.’

“Who the hell is Alex?” you mumbled, locking your phone again and sliding it into your pocket.

You wandered around the school, trying to find one of your friends to take you home. Scott was nowhere to be found but after about half an hour you eventually found Liam, Hayden, and Mason being harassed by some guy.

He was taller than them, wiry, with choppy brown hair. As he spoke, his hands flew around in the air and tugged at the red flannel he wore. There was something so familiar about him, as erratic as he was. You knew him.

“-So you guys, you can’t be alone,” he said. His voice was so familiar, as was his heartbeat. There was a tiny, almost imperceptible lilt in his heartbeat. “You gotta stick with Scott or with me because I can see them.” They didn’t say anything. Did they know him? How did he know Scott? “Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”

Hayden whispered something to Liam as you came closer. He said he didn’t know him.

“Do you … go to this school?” Mason asked.

“What’s your name?” Liam asked.

He was confused. Something about his face made you want to reach out for him and comfort him, but you didn’t know why. It was more an instinct to protect him than anything else.

Then he pushed Liam and Mason aside and started running. He stopped Noah and pulled him into a hug. You were so busy trying to work out how you knew him that you couldn’t focus on what he was saying. You couldn't focus on anything other than the lilt of his heartbeat.

He froze again. Then he started walking away like he was in a daze. He pulled out his phone and called someone, and it took you a second to realize he was talking to Scott.

He hung up.

“It’s me. I’m next.”

And then he started running.

You bolted after him, not wanting to lose him again. Whoever he was, you knew him and you weren’t going to let him disappear.

“Hey!” You yelled and grabbed his hand. It took him a second to realize that you weren’t a threat. He stopped running but he was still restless. “Hey, let me help you.”

“What’s my name?” he asked. His voice shook. You tried to think about it, but you just couldn’t remember his name, no matter how familiar his hands felt or how badly you wanted to make him safe. “Oh, god. You don’t remember me.”

“I know you,” you said. “I don’t- I don’t know how, but I know you.”

He put his hands on either side of your face and kissed you. It was over in a second but it felt like you’d been kissing him all your life. “I love you, but I’ve gotta go.” He pulled away to start running again when you grabbed his hand to make him stay.

“No! Let me come with you.”

He looked heartbroken. “You don’t even remember me.”

“But I know you,” you said. You held his hand tighter. “And I’m not letting anything happen to you. So wherever you’re running … I’m running, too.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. He nodded, more to himself than to you. “Okay, let’s go.”

He started running. He was fast, but he was undoubtedly human. He kept looking at things that you couldn’t see and pulling you out of invisible danger. Maybe he was like Lydia. Maybe you could help him.

“Don’t look at them,” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t fight them and don’t look at them or they’ll take you too.”

“But I-”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. No matter-” The words caught in your throat. They rolled off your tongue without thinking, but it bothered you that you couldn't remember why you were saying them.

Whoever he was, he dragged you to a powder blue Jeep and fumbled for the keys as you slammed the doors. Then he stopped. He looked around and took a breath.

“Hey, we can still get out of here,” you said, leaning over to touch his hand.

“No,” he said quietly. He looked over at you with the most heartwrenching expression you’d ever seen. You didn’t know why that look made you want to cry. “There’s no time.”

“There’s plenty of time,” you said, needing more than anything for him to stop looking so sad. “Just start the car. We can go anywhere you want.”

“Hey, listen to me,” he said. He turned and cupped your face like he did in the hall, but he didn’t kiss you this time. “My name is Stiles. I’m gonna be erased, just like Alex. You’re going to forget me.”

“Stiles,” you repeated. “Stiles, I won’t forget you. Not again, okay? I can’t- I can’t lose you again.”

“I love you,” Stiles said. And you knew he meant it. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and he loved you.

“I love-”

Something ripped him out of the car.

And then he was gone.

Stiles was gone.

Tagged: @ietss @used-avocado

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles slow burn #mccall!reader #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

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acecademia · 3 years

Note

How many times have you moved? Where have you lived? Why have you moved so many times? What is your favorite place you have lived? How old is your brother in relation to you?

Hi, nonny!

Well, first of all, I'm a second-generation military brat, so moving a lot comes with the territory haha. My mom was an Army brat who joined the Air Force and married an Air Force officer. The first time I moved, I was about four months old, and my parents drove about 2,000 miles with two screaming kids in the car. (They actually had to switch off who drove which car so that they could each get breaks from us 😂)

If we're talking about specifically how many different buildings/homes I've lived in (for more than two weeks), the number is... thirteen? If we're talking about how many physical moves there have been, it's probably more like 20. (I ping-ponged back and forth between my parents' house and various university apartments.)

My favorite physical building I've lived in was our house in O'Fallon, Illinois. We lived there when I was 6-9 years old, and god I loved that house. We had a basement that we set up as the kids' area with a couch and our TV and gaming consoles, the computer, and then we had separate play areas in the unfinished part of the basement. There was even a bathroom with a shower down there. My brother and I spent most of our time in that basement, which was great because we had a floor and at least one closed door between us and the parents so we didn't wake up my dad when he was sleeping.

My favorite place I've lived in terms of a city was probably Champaign, Illinois (wow I like Illinois, don't I?). It was just super walkable, had a pretty reliable bus system, and I could pretty much get whatever I needed super easily. I walked to work and class and had a grocery store about two blocks from my apartment, not to mention the public library was less than 10 minutes from me on foot. It was honestly a great little college town, and I really enjoyed living there. I think I would have liked Dallas more if I hadn't been stuck in the suburbs and had actually lived in the city proper. I don't like suburbs--I'm very much a city girl, a fact that my dad laments constantly 😂

My brother's a couple years older than me. I'm not giving specific details about him out of respect for his personal privacy. But I will say that he's honestly the best big brother I could have ever asked for, and we're very close. At the very least, we exchange a couple messages or links over Discord pretty much every day. He's a good dude, my brother, even if he drives me insane sometimes--that's just sibling stuff lmao

#replies #anon #nicole speaks #nicole rambles #about me

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aithrauniverse · 4 years

Text

Chapter 9-Aithne

We had bad news, and— actually, we just had bad news.

Great. Now we were trapped in a goddamn house. A creepy and ancient one at that. (And for the record, it wasn’t fun. At all.) Picking up the card from the table, I read out,

“Each riddle is related to

The others, like a smaller clue

You have minutes thirty to solve

The puzzle, and you must resolve

The problem, or you’re stuck inside

But still, push your worries aside

You’ll have an hourglass to know

When time’s up, now, ready, set, go!”

A holographic hourglass materialized and began counting the minutes down.

“What are we waiting for?” I exclaimed. “Chop chop! Let’s go find stuff! Time’s ticking!”

Astra picked up the first clue placed on the table. Reading it to herself, she mused,

“You’ll find me on the mantel shelf

I give off light all by myself

But nothing works the same way here

Look for the friend of puppeteers.”

“Seems easy,” Laila said, “Just look for a marionette.”

“Marry who now?” I raised both eyebrows.

“A puppet,” she sighed.

We hunted for that damn puppet for a good two minutes before Astra exclaimed, “I found it!” Hurrying over, we looked down. Sure enough, a Victorian-style doll lay in a sitting position, its beady eyes eerily staring up at us and its strings completely tangled.

“Yup. Creepy as I expected,” I remarked. “Now for the second clue. Where is it?”

“I think we’re missing something,” Laila muttered, “Ah!” She walked over to the mantel, grabbed an ordinary-looking flashlight and walked over.

“We don’t need a flashlight,” I objected. “It’s bright enough already.”

“This probably doesn’t release normal light,” she switched it on. A beam of dark violet, almost black light, shot out. “It’s UV light. Made to decode messages. And if I’m not wrong, there should be one somewhere...” she pointed it towards the puppet, “...here.” Words previously invisible bloomed onto the doll’s skirt, sprouting out like fresh ink.

Laila picked up the doll with one hand and held the flashlight steady with the other. She began to read out,

“Good job, you’re not dumb after all

But science will help you down the hall

Now think— what lives a thousand times?

And tells the tales of heinous crimes?”

We remained silent for a minute, wondering what it could be. Then it hit me. “Guys, I saw a Nancy Drew book on the shelf when we were looking for that puppet,” I realized. “This is what they could be talking about! It does talk about crimes, and the only thing that can live a thousand times is a story!” Dashing off to the living room, with Laila and Astra hot on my heels, I picked up the book. Dusting it off, I was about to open it, when Astra stopped me.

“Wait,” she pointed out. “There’s a note stuck in it.” Yanking the (ew, hot pink) Post-It out, she looked at it, clearly confused.

“4 1 53 60

90 –1

9 53 75?!”

“How’s that even a clue?” I was so confused and annoyed, I wanted to kick a hole in the stupid wall. But then Astra pointed something out.

“Look, there’s something else on the back,” she said. “There’s a picture of the Periodic Table. Maybe there’s some sort of pattern..."

Astra flipped the paper multiple times before exclaiming, “Gotcha! These numbers represent the atomic numbers on the table.”

“But what about the ‘-1’?” Laila asked.

“Uh... about that... oh! That could be used to stand for an anion. Anions have one less proton than electron, which has a symbol e. Now all we have to do is line them up with the symbols..." Astra trailed off.

“‘Behind The Fire’! The clue is behind the fire!” I burst out.

“But how are we going to put our hand through the fire?” Laila asked. She had a point there.

“Maybe it’s not a real fire,” Astra smiled, “Like the hourglass; it isn’t real, but we can still see it! A hologram, see?” She put her hand through the crackling fire, making Laila sputter in disbelief. She pulled out a note, her hand unscathed. Peering over her shoulder, I announced, “Oooh, a limerick! Here goes...

“Great work, you’ve followed through

Now here, I present the fourth clue

It’s tossed up high

As the paddle flies

And bounces on the table blue.”

“What bounces high...?” Laila pondered for a while, “Oh! Of course! It’s a ball!”

“Which ball?”

“How many balls do you think a room has? Just find the ball!”

“What do you mean? This isn’t a real room!”

“Okay, fine, but it’s easy to find a bouncy ball, no? Just find the light ones – like a…”

“Uh, guys, one problem,” Astra laughed nervously, pointing towards the left. “There’s a whole bucket of ping-pong balls.”

“... ping-pong ball...” Laila trailed off.

“Well, then, we just find the one with a note in it, don’t we?” I smiled. “Time to smash some ping-pong balls.”

As I found out, smashing table tennis balls was incredibly time-consuming. And boring. CRAZY boring. Seven minutes had passed, and still no sign of the note. “Guys, we only have eighteen minutes left,” Astra urged. Then, as I stepped on another ball, I saw it. That elusive note. Yanking it out, I passed it to Laila, “Would you care to do the honors?”

She took it and smiled, “Finally, a haiku.

“Darkness swallows you

Then you hit the switch, hopeful

Where is light set free?”

“Alright, haikus are officially my least favorite type of poems,” Astra groaned. “So mind-boggling..."

“Wait, I think I’ve got this one,” I interrupted. “I think... it’s a lamp! I saw a ceiling lamp in the ‘kitchen’. But how are we going to get the note?”

“We stack,” Astra smirked.

Another assumption I had made was that stacking ourselves on top of one another was easy. Again, I was proven terribly wrong. Laila was the tallest and strongest, so she stood below. I climbed on top of her and Astra, being the smallest, scrambled on top of me. In theory, it should have been like climbing stairs. But oh no, it was not. It was much more awkward.

At one point, Laila grumbled, “Aithne, your foot is in my face!” And she did not take kindly to my suggestion:

“Then get your face off my foot!” (Hey, maybe she hadn’t read Aru Shah yet. Or she was grumpy that my foot was in her face. Yeah, probably the second one.)

“It’s supposed to be on my shoulder!”

“I’m telling you, you should really take a look at what Astra is doing to my head! Woah... wha— Laila, stand still! I’m falling!”

“Why are you guys constantly shifting your weight between my shoulders—?”

“Astra, how DOES your hair reach me? Cut it – Laila! What the h—”

“No cursing, Aithne!!” Astra scolded, waving her arms.

“Wait, don’t move!! I’m losing balance!” Laila leaned to one side, our human tower swaying.

“I’m moving because you are!! Agh—!”

One and a half minutes (and a lot of cursing that was probably just me) later, Astra neatly hopped off my back, the note in hand. I rather unceremoniously fell to the floor, wincing as I rubbed my sore butt. Laila stretched. “Aithne, lose some weight,” she joked. I stuck my tongue out at her in response,

“It isn’t just me! Astra is heavy too!”

“But—"

Astra shushed the both of us and read out the (hopefully) final note,

“Two doors lie ahead of you

They’re colored white and red

Pick the right one, and you’ll pass on

Wrong choice, restart instead.”

There was also a footnote that read: ‘Even if you restart, the timing will remain.’

“Well, we’d better make the right choice then,” I tried to lighten the pressure. However, it didn’t help. The pressure was so thick that, forget a knife, you couldn’t even cut it with a freaking sword.

Then I remembered something I had heard last time from a Hindu friend of mine. Apparently, white was an inauspicious color. It represented things like asceticism and death and was reserved for mourners and widows... It represented giving up worldly desires. However, red was considered lucky... it was believed to represent sensuality and purity... saffron powder was applied on their foreheads on auspicious occasions... so does that mean should we choose red?

“Guys, I think we should choose the red door,” I decided. “In Hindu myths, white stands for things like death and red, purity and luck-bringing. This may make me sound very superstitious, but I think we should open the red door.”

“Sounds like what I said in the first room. Still, we trust you,” Laila said and gripped the handle. I silently prayed and covered my face as the door swung open, not daring to open my eyes. Slowly, I cracked them open and shifted my hand.

“Guys, we— we did it!”

#fiction #fiction story #fictional #fictional story #storywriting #writing #stories #story #writer #writers of tumblr #writers #school project #aithnEeEeEEEeEeeEEeEEee

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thanksjro · 5 years

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Last Stand of the Wreckers, Issue #3: Garrus-9 is Fun for the Whole Family

Noticed a little something as I was reading- in issue #1, Roberts is credited for contributing to the story. However, in issue #2 and on, he’s credited as a writer alongside Roche.

Maybe it’s just a change in the how the credits were being labelled within IDW, because it never seems to stay consistent between series, but that’s still quite the jump. He’s accumulating power much faster than I originally thought. How delightful, and also terrifying.

Getting back to the story, we open up this issue with a flashback: two years ago, Overlord deigned it necessary to reunite Shockwave’s head with his body. Now, this was still nearly a year after he’d first taken over Garrus-9, and Shockwave can’t help but question the wait.

Back when Megatron still had Overlord under him, he had Shockwave slap something called an “Achilles virus” into the guy. This virus made it impossible for Overlord to comprehend any weaknesses Megatron might have- something positively devastating to a tactician as ruthless as Overlord. He, of course, wants the thing removed. Shockwave agrees.

With how many of the IDW universe’s problems this chunky purple fuck is responsible for, I’d honestly be more surprised if helping Overlord DIDN’T help him further his own agenda in some way.

Once Shockwave frees up Overlord’s processors, he’ll be free to go and cause more mayhem, while Overlord keeps doing his thing on Garrus-9. Shockwave, because he’s a smarty-pants, knows what he’s up to- he’s trying to goad Megatron into coming to see him, by way of ultraviolence.

When I was a little kid- we’re talking no more than five- if I wanted my parents to come see me after I’d woken up in the morning, I’d do this god-awful thing where I’d shriek at the top of my lungs repeatedly and then hide under my blankets acting as if I’d been sleeping like a perfect little angel the whole time. This feels a lot like that, except Overlord’s been screaming for three years.

Back in the present, we get a taste of some dramatic irony, by way of Fisitron’s fanboy datalogs.

You’re never going to guess what’s happened.

Since the ping-pong ball Verity was riding in smashed right into where Overlord likes to hang out, it’s looking somewhat grim for them. Not that things are looking any better over here.

Guzzle isn’t much of a team player, it would seem.

Springer’s worried that the others were DOA, but Twin Twist seems to think things are alright.

And he would know, I suppose.

Over in the Pit, Overlord’s greeting his new guests. Rotorstorm tries to break the tension with a joke. It actually goes over pretty well with Overlord.

Still, it’s a tough crowd.

Back over with Wrecker team A, the boys have just blown up a hallway to buy themselves a little time. Well, Guzzle blew up the hallway, since he’s a tank, but the others were there for moral support.

Things have really hit the fan, and Springer makes the call to split up and look for clues get help. Guzzle and Kup pair up and run for it, which seems appropriately themed, while Twin Twist decides it’s time to break out the alt-mode and dig through the floor so they can get to the Autobot prisoners. Springer’s not too sure about that, seeing as Twin Twist’s hurt, but he says they can take it. Yes, they.

After that painful scene transition, Overlord implores the Wreckers before him to surrender. Perceptor, having a case of terminal bad-ass disease, orders Pyro to keep Verity safe- which he does by stuffing her into his chest?- while he and the others attempt to bare-knuckle box Overlord into submission.

I’m not kidding, he’s just shoving her in there.

While Perceptor and the gang commit suicide, Twin Twist’s just finished drilling, and it’s looking like it’s a bit more of a drop than he was expecting. Luckily, Springer swoops in and catches him before he can take any fall damage.

Both they and Impactor land safely on the floor of an energy reactor, and it looks like they’ve got company.

The company is Kick-Off’s corpse. Guess Overlord kinda sucks at rewarding people.

As Impactor and Springer discuss Kick-Off’s very brief stint as a prison gladiator, Twin Twist makes the horrific discovery that they’ve set off a defense mechanism, and if they don’t get out of there pronto, they’re gonna be robo-toast.

Overlord gets word of these guys running around in the energy reactor as, he kicks Percy and pals’ ass. Repeatedly. Delighted that there are more toys to play with, he makes a prison-wide announcement: anyone who brings him the head of a Wrecker can leave Garrus-9.

I don’t think Percy likes that idea too much.

Without any further ado, Overlord sicks the entire prison populace on the Wreckers. Perceptor, ever the brainiac, buys them a little time by blowing up a fuel tank that managed to survive the ping-pong ball crashing. The Wreckers book it out of the Pit, ready to head for Aequitas. Only one problem- Ironfist is having a breakdown. Perceptor is surprisingly considerate about the whole thing.

Like, this is about as much as anyone could ask for in such a dangerous situation. Of course, Ironfist is a bit too hung up on the complete annihilation of a skull he just witnessed to appreciate Percy’s kindness.

Here’s the thing about fanboys; they have a bit of a habit of putting their heroes on pedestals.

No, the adventuring doesn’t happen until 2012, Ironfist, and you aren’t going to be there for all that.

Seems like Overlord’s presence on Garrus-9 has sort of smashed Ironfist’s dreams of grandeur. Though given the constantly-changing roster, and the fact that Ironfist probably knows more about the Wreckers’ escapades than most, one would think he’d at least be prepared for something this wild to be a possibility.

This whole spouting off attracts Topspin, who berates Ironfist for being a baby. He doesn’t even know why the guy got brought along on this mission, seeing as none of the established Wreckers voted him on. Ironfist is just sort of here. Before we can get into all that though, Perceptor breaks their little squabble up, because we just don’t have time for that right now.

Over with Guzzle and Kup, we’re descending a ladder and reveling in implications, as Guzzle notes how he had a bunch of friends die in a rescue attempt similar to this one. Kup mentions that he hopes the guy being rescued was worth it. Guzzle says that it depends on who you ask.

So we’ve got an angry little tank dude and the old man who’s responsible for several of his friends’ demises, working together, without any other supervision, in an insanely dangerous place filled with murderous Decepticons and high places that don’t follow OSHA regulations. What could possibly go wrong?

Back with Percy and the boys, we finally get the down-low on what Topspin and Twin Twist’s whole deal is. Turns out they’ve got a rare and potentially exploitable manufacturing error- they’ve got branched sparks, which means that their nervous systems overlap to a point where they can feel each other’s pain. This seems like it ought to discourage one from joining the Wreckers, but since when have the Transformers ever been about self-preservation?

Look at that face. It’s like he knows what the narrative’s gearing up towards.

Perceptor’s found a funny part of the wall, which gives him a pretty good feeling that Aequitas is right behind it. It’s at this point that the others start asking just who the hell Aequitas is, and then Pyro remembers he’s still got Verity trapped inside his chest cavity.

Verity is released from the torso jail, a little banged up and a lot pissed off about being forgotten. She starts saying some rather uncalled-for things about the dead before she catches herself, and we get a bit of an insight into Wrecker ideology.

Perceptor has busted through the wall while Topspin’s explaining the group philosophy, and we finally find what Fortress Maximus’ has been up to while all this has been going down.

The Decepticons have been using ol’ Max here as a lock pick, seeing as he wouldn’t just GIVE Overlord the code to the chamber. Perceptor starts cutting the poor guy out of all the cabling he’s hooked up to, and everyone once again questions just what’s up with Aequitas that the Decepticons want to get to him so badly.

Speaking of Decepticons, they’re collecting in droves in the hallway, just itching to rip off some Wrecker heads for a free ticket out of Garrus-9. Perceptor unhooks Fort Max, passes his limbless, eyeless body off to be carried by the two largest friends at his disposal, and the chamber opens up.

This is about the time that the story catches up with the other team of Wreckers, the guys who were trapped in the energy reactor. Yeah, that branched spark plot point is about to get very relevant.

Dentists are the worst, even in space.

And that’s the end of issue #3.

#transformers #jro #last stand of the wreckers #issue 3 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #story plotting #comic script writing #wreckers trilogy

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jeanvaljean24601 · 4 years

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Black Monday's Producers Explain Why Confessed and Went to Prison in Season 2 Finale

If you stuck with the joyously demented carnival that is Showtime's Black Monday for all of Season 2, you know it took bonkers to new heights, even for a show that was pretty bonkers to begin with. By the time it was done, we'd seen a half-dead man sing a song through a computer; an epic shoot-out that looked like something out of Rambo; the precursor to the modern-day dick pic via a Xerox'd willy; and a whimsical musical number inside a white-collar prison that celebrated the joys of wealthy white privilege. Yes, the jokes, set pieces, and gags in Season 2 of Black Monday were a lot, in the gleeful, "I can't believe they just did that" way that makes the enjoyably absurdist romp unlike anything else on TV. Season 2 also juggled a dizzying number of overlapping storylines involving financial jargon and backstabbing schemes, with Mo (Don Cheadle), Dawn (Regina Hall), Blair (Andrew Rannells), Tiff Georgina (Casey Wilson) and Keith (Paul Scheer) tangled up in crisscrossing tales of revenge and oneupmanship. At the conclusion of its 10 episodes, we'd seen Mo try to do something right for a change, the once-innocent Blair turn dark, Keith cozy up to the Lehmann brothers, and Dawn land in prison after confessing that she was the one who engineered the Black Monday crash that kickstarted the series. Even if the intricacies of every story turn became a little head-scratching at times, the overall movements made Season 2 like a wild, intoxicating ping-pong match that ultimately finished with Dawn in the clink and Mo back at square one. Why did Dawn tell on herself? And what might a Season 3 look like if the Showtime gods smile on us? Executive producers Jordan Cahan and David Caspe talked with TV Guide about how the madcap season came to be, some of their favorite moments, and what they're thinking about next. There was so much happening inside this season; how'd you map out what you wanted to have happen? Jordan Cahan: Well, that's funny, because I was thinking before this call, as comedy people, it's rare that we get to go story first. Usually, it's like, what jokes, what is a funny set piece. But it's good to go story first, and that was what so fun about the season. We really did talk about where we wanted the characters to end up. What is the final frame of each character? Where are they? And then the real question was, how do we get them there in a way where we're juggling all the characters but where you can't get so cleanly ahead. So that it feels like a drama where the journey is exciting and unexpected, but hopefully at the end, it all feels like it makes sense. We're not used to doing that for comedy. I think the fun of that was looking at a board and bringing out where the characters' peaks and valleys were and how we could get them to all interact. David Caspe: I think the end game that we were excited about was Regina [Dawn]. The room as a whole got to a place where they're like, "Okay, the most interesting thing is that a Black woman is responsible for [Black Monday] which was actually a brilliant trade, but also something very illegal. There's such an interesting dichotomy of wanting the credit or something that also would take you down, but being so frustrated over the course of the season that you're not getting the credit you deserve, that in the end, she basically turned herself in to get the credit more than anything. We had where everyone begins and we had where Regina ends and we had to figure everything else out. Black Monday Wasn't Conceived with Black Leads, but It's All the Better for ItOne of the things that stood out to me was the feminist theme of the season. You have Dawn in charge of a mostly female firm at the start, and then this subplot where Wayne (Horatio Sanz) is this incel character determined to punish women. Was Season 2 intended to be an overtly feminist statement? Caspe: I think every character we have is, for lack of a better word, not a straight white man. Looking at how they have to navigate today through the lens of the '80s is really been what the show is about a little bit and I think inevitably women are a big part of that. The Just for Men thing from Wayne was very much about a lot of men's reactions to like, the female Ghostbusters and stuff like that just felt insanely ridiculous to us. It just felt natural that if we've got this woman who was the mastermind behind Black Monday, she would break the glass ceiling and start this all-female firm, but inevitably you're gonna have one of these sort of incel type-men who reacts in this misogynist way. You see it constantly now, as a reaction to the Time's Up movement. They always frame it as like, "I'm a men's rights activist," which, you know, straight white men don't need activists. They've done just fine. So a lot of the story is, "How did we get to the end game?" We really wanted all the characters and stories to be very interconnected. You've talked before about how your writers' room is mostly people of color and/or women — and you had that in place before the new push for more inclusivity behind the scenes. Do you feel like you were ahead of the curve there? Cahan: Saying it's a mandate is sh---y. For us, it's always been our absolute desire to have the most diverse rooms as humanly possible. I've never worked any other way and I won't. Yes, it happens to fit this show hand in glove, but I just think it's the way shows should be made. Caspe: And it's also selfish, frankly, in that you get a better show that way...the more perspectives you get and voices you get in the room [you get] more variety of hilarious jokes and experiences that inspire storylines.

Cahan: I can think of two or three storylines that I would be really afraid to touch, that would be like third rails, and the room was so encouraging going in that direction. Ultimately, you want them to lead you. Not only did it end up educating me, but I think it makes the show richer. Dawn borrowing from what is essentially the United Negro College Fund. Stories like that where it's like "Do we really want to do this?" and then having the room get so excited, to put that character in such a difficult moral pose

Caspe: And the story itself is just not one that I would think of. The relationship between Dawn and her mother is informed by Black women in the room. I wouldn't have come up with the nuanced, intelligent version; I would come up with like, an outsider looking in assumption of it rather than something that felt authentic. A lot of [Blair's] story was inspired by people that went through similar things of what it means to be gay in a religion that doesn't accept it. That's not my story to tell; I also don't know it, because I haven't been inside it. Let's talk about the brilliant song "White Collar," Keith sings in Episode 5. How'd that come to be? Cahan: We knew we wanted to [take on] Club Fed because it was such an '80s anomaly. And it was so weirdly written about in the '90s as like, "Can you believe this happened?" It felt almost like a Simpsons-style step out where all of a sudden you're seeing things...it felt like a fun, silver bullet way to describe what you're seeing in these prisons but in the same way but a silly, fun thing that stretches the limits of credibility where we didn't know if we could pull it off and still feel like you're in the real world. Caspe: It was very inspired by the Simpsons musical numbers. Cahan: It was "See My Vest" from The Simpsons. It was Maison Derrière Simpsons. We probably pulled the rubber band back as far as we could with that one. In that vein, the visual gags and set pieces in Season 2 went to a new level — the bank shootout, in Episode 3 ("The Idiot Inside") for example, the most over-the-top. What were your favorites of the season?

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Cahan: I would say the things that got me excited are on two ends of the spectrum. And I'm sure Dave's would be different but on one end, the bank is as ambitious anything we've ever done. I mean, the idea of not just making it a little music video or alluding to it, but actually playing it, and really destroying that bank digitally and physically, having to do a lot of practical effects and plotting that whole thing out. We had never done an episode that didn't have a B-story. So we have never done an episode that didn't cut away to the other characters. So it was very much like writing a play, but a play that could get explosive very quickly. I can't tell you how much fun it was for somebody who grew up with '80s action movies and loves them so dearly, to be able to do that. And then weirdly, on the complete other side of that, I would say the very next episode, which was on purpose, was the country club episode. We wanted it to feel zany and goofy, almost like a Three's Company episode in the same way that our bank episode feels like a Miami Vice or something like that. The country club episode deals with race and class and sexuality and religion; we really wanted that to feel like a farce. And I think I think we got really lucky with our writers, directors. I really love the way the show can go from one complete extreme to the other. It sure seems like Mo is full-on in love with Dawn, but he just can't seem to get over himself. What's up with their dynamic and why he's so reluctant to be vulnerable with her?Caspe: I think this season he was a victim of circumstance, which was like sort of the most tragic [part]. Usually, in the past it's been his own ego and his own lack of vulnerability that has [messed things] up with her, you know, I think this season, he was getting on that plane. He was going to disappear forever. Now granted, he had just completely f---ed her over, but he was completely f---ed over by her Black Monday. She did steal his entire company and basically took all his money. So he was pissed. And he did his one last piece of revenge to screw up her bank deal. And then he got on that plane and was leaving. When the FBI caught up to him, they forced him back to help them find who was responsible for Black Monday. And in that respect, he was trying to keep Dawn out of it, and he was genuinely trying to steer them towards Blair and saved Dawn.

He just kind of wasn't able to. But he really was trying to do the right thing by her. I also think we were trying to look at [how] there's still sexism within races or cultures. When you flashback to him, he genuinely looked at it as like, I'm the one who got the seed money, I'm the one who got on the [Wall Street] floor. Like I think it never occurred to him that Dawn would have been his partner. Mo has some sexism [about him] too. Discover your new favorite show: Watch This Now!But, he's willing to take the rap for her. I read that as a sign of his deep abiding love for her, and I reading that wrong? Cahan: No, you got that. He literally says, "I'm going to be the tragic hero." He's trying to display that he's changed. At the end he runs into Keith and Keith is basically telling him "You are going to go away for life." And Mo continues on. He goes to the FBI and he confesses, he's willing to do the sacrificial thing. Where are you thinking about for Season 3, if you get renewed?Caspe: Maybe the '90s. It's almost '89 by the end of Season 2, so there's something interesting about 1990, or even jumping ahead.

Cahan: I'm really excited by where the four chess pieces are. We really wanted to position them in these exciting places. Season 2 starts with Blair making a deal with Tiff and they have this understanding, and they're going to help each other. And by the end of the season, you can see she's kind of terrified of him, and how far he'll go for power. And we get a glimpse into his background and know that when his back is against the wall, he's not afraid to push back all the way to protect himself. Now I'm like, "Oh, God how bad is this going to get?" I think for Mo, it hinges on a little be careful what you wish for. Now he's inadvertently got the immunity he's always wanted. All of his old transgressions are wiped away.android tv box

He's a new man. He can start again clean, but the question is at what cost? For Dawn, we were very careful to not mention how long she'd been put away or how deep of trouble she's in. But clearly it's a very serious crime. We've painted ourselves into a corner of how could that possibly work? And then for Keith it's another be careful what you wish for [situation]. He's finally found someone who really appreciates him. But there's a bit of a Single White Female relationship. I feel like if Season 1, we painted ourselves into a corner, I think Season 2, it would be even more fun to watch how these four people, who seem to not be able to get out of each other's way, and their lives would continue.h96 tv box

Last question is, in the final moments, we see Lenny, that poor twin who's just come back from the brink of death, being attacked by a wolf after being left in the woods by his brother. The guy can't catch a break. Is he dead, or just in bad shape again?Caspe: I think it would be the same thing as Season 1. So if he died again at the end of Season 2, if you're a betting man I would bet on Lenny's triumphant return at some point in Season 3 if we get it, probably even more mangled than he was at the end of Season 1. In classic '80s villain.

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