#like i said there are shitty people in the fandom who do fit that description | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brian-in-finance · 11 months ago

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Video 📹 from YouTube photo shoot BTS forJuly 2018 Irish Tatler

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Facebook Watch fun Q&A video 📹

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Screenshots: Caitríona Balfe Fan

time for more

Caitríona Balfe talks to Shauna O'Halloran about time-travel, wedding plans and why women have had enough of Hollywood's shitty behaviour (her words, not ours).

A pair of stonewashed Levi's 501s, flat white converse and a little white T-shirt are all that Caitríona Balfe needs to rock up to a day's shooting in North London, and still have a full crew comment on how beautiful she is in real life. It's never something I like to lead with in interviews - we're here to discover the person, after all - but I do feel that to not mention it would be a shame, because she is quite stunning, even when off-duty. It's not that much of a surprise of course. The Monaghan native was once one of the most sought after runway models in the world, having been spotted by a Ford Models scout in Dublin. At 18, she was opening and closing shows in Paris for Chanel, Moschino, Givenchy and Louis Vuitton, to name a few. And this humble glossy is just one of many she's graced the cover of - with Vogue, Harper's Bazaar and Elle magazines all having starred Caitriona over the years. So no wonder there was literally not one bad shot to be found in the photographer's edit.

Today however, Caitríona Balfe is known best to most of the world as Claire Beauchamp Randall - Outlander's time travelling 1950s nurse who falls for a dashing highland warrior by the name of Jamie Fraser, played by her costar Sam Heughan. The show, now on series four, is based on a series of novels by Diana Gabaldon and to say it has mega fandom is an understatement. Having taken up acting after her modelling career, Outlander was Caitriona's first major role and has propelled her into a stratosphere with over five million viewers per episode. How, I wonder, is that?

"It's been such a wild ride!" She tells me as we sit down to interview. She's back filming in Scotland for her fourth season and we already know that seasons five and six are a go, so Claire is going to be part of Caitriona's life for some time to come. "I was cast late into the proceedings. I got cast on the 11th of September and I was in Scotland [for fittings and filming] on the 15th of September 2013. I guess I knew about two days before they announced it!" She says of the whirlwind entry into Outlander. It didn't take long, however, for Caitríona to realise the scope her new role was going to have.

"After we filmed about four episodes Sam and I were taken to LA and we did a fan event. Nobody had seen anything and there was over two thousand people at this fan event...having not seen one minute of footage. We came out on stage and everyone was just screaming!"

The core fan base has stuck with them as the seasons have gone on and Outlander has won multiple awards. Caitríona, too, has been widely recognised for her role with 20 plus nominations and a host of Best Actress wins from institutions like the People's Choice Awards, the Golden Globes, the Saturn Awards, IFTA and BAFTA.

One of the notable points of the drama series is the sparky on-screen chemistry between her and Heughan during their many steamy scenes together. So much so that people have had a hard time believing that they're not a couple in real life. No matter how much the actors insist.

"It's nice that people kind of see something in that, but you know, we've always just been friends. And I said it from the beginning but people didn't want to hear it!"

Even so, it must be hard after four years of filming sexy scenes with someone to not get embroiled in a romance of some description.

"We went for a walk," Caitríona explains on how the deal was cut early on. "Both of us had to go to London right before we had to start filming, I was getting my second perm of the week and he was getting his hair dyed, probably for the 15th time that month and we met down in Kensington and went on a big long walk in the park. I was there with my poodle perm and he was there with some kind of terrible ginger-red version of his hair and we were like, You know what, who knows what this is going to be but we're going to be in this together and we gotta have each other's backs.' And from that time on we always have." A sweet moment that has led to a lasting friendship and has probably been key to Outlander's success.

"The shows that have been successful - I think you always see that they stick together. The minute you let ego or your pride or all of that kind of stuff get in the way, I think that it can really sour things," she says with honesty. It has to be said, there is no ego about Caitríona Balfe and as the lead role in the show, it's easy to imagine that she sets the tone for all involved.

The atmosphere on set, she says is supportive and tight, although she's painfully aware that not all hit shows and Hollywood sets are so lucky.

"Our work is really tough and we're in tough conditions, like when you're out in the pissing rain or sideways snow, which happens! To have people be supportive of each other and care about each other, that makes such a huge difference.

"I know somebody who worked on a show as the lead male and he and the lead female never spoke, literally didn't speak to each other unless they were in a scene. I can't imagine ever wanting to be in a situation like that, I can't imagine waking up in the morning and feeling like I have to go to work with someone who won't even speak to me. That's horrible."

But the stories are rife; even before #MeToo broke, celebrities and bad behaviour on set seemed to go hand in hand. And it makes for great, salacious tabloid fodder. And women, notoriously, seem to get the raw end of the deal, in everything from respect standards to salaries.

"I think everybody's waking up to the fact that they can't get away with that stuff," Caitríona chips in. "I obviously came to this point of my life a bit later so I've always felt very comfortable about standing up for myself or speaking up for myself but there can be a bit of a double standard. But I don't think, I mean I will stress this, it's not always men enforcing that. We've had male directors or male producers who are so much more sensitive and supportive than sometimes the females can be. I don't necessarily think that it's a split line down the middle about sex; it's not all women supporting women because that's not my experience. I think it's really about people." And does it hurt more, when it's a woman being the unsupportive one?

"Yeah, I think you expect better. And I think sometimes they think because they're women they don't think they're being discriminatory, but if what you're asking is completely out of line..."

In the hierarchical worlds of modelling and acting, people entering the careers at the bottom rungs are more vulnerable to mistreatment.

Caitríona notes that she did experience it in particular as a young model and her first career left her with some healing to do.

"I remember one of my first ever photoshoots in Dublin. I was so young and I remember coming back from it and my sister was like 'Where have you been all day?' I was just being sent off with a strange photographer who was older and with no kind of knowledge about where I was going, what was expected, just sort of thrown out to the wolves at 18."

It was that age that she first began travelling too, to Paris and Milan, and with little to no support structure. "It's just incredible when I look back now at how I navigated all of that because you literally are just sent off on your own, traipsing around strange cities where you don't know the language. You are just expected to fend for yourself.

"It was the wild west and you were lucky if you had a job. There was a discrepancy of power - the agency was really supposed to be there protecting you, but it was almost like you needed to please them to get the jobs.

"I think that's why so many girls who have gone through that experience are as tough as nails," she adds, also referring to herself, although that toughness hasn't come without cost.

"When I left the business, I moved to LA and I am so grateful that I was able to take a year...a lot of that was just dismantling a lot of the mental issues I had taken from the business because your confidence and your self-esteem is in the toilet after you've been in that business for so long. Most models I know have terrible self-esteem which is the most crazy thing."

Thankfully, in both modelling and acting, the industries are changing.

As someone who is in the Hollywood stratosphere and has been in the company of the likes of Weinstein and more, Caitríona has first-hand experience of being with the people at the very centre of the #MeToo storm.

"A lot of my year in LA was just dismantling a lot of the mental issues I had taken from the business"

"A lot of the names that have come forward, it's strange because you kind of go 'Oh yeah, that's not surprising.' With someone like Morgan Freeman; I grew up watching him and he's been that voice that calms everyone. But I had previously heard rumours. Nobody is above the law and what I do hope is that all of these things go through a process because I think the worst thing is that we get into this situation where there is like a mob mentality and we start being judge, jury and executioner on social media because that's never the right way of doing things.

"But I think there has been a real shift and I think people aren't going to put up with shitty behaviour anymore. And they shouldn't."

The one thing that high profile and influence does afford people is the ability to shine a light on situations that deserve more attention. It's something that Caitríona’s very aware of and since her Outlander fans have always asked 'who can we support on your behalf', she went out of her way to discover a charity that she could be an ambassador for. As a result, she is now a patron of Wold Child Cancer and travelled to Ghana last year to see two of the hospitals the charity works at. "It's very humbling when you see the different kinds of care you can expect if anything ever goes wrong in your life just because of where you are born," she says of the experience but is equally quick to downplay her role as a patron versus that of the people working on the ground, despite using her own time and profile to raise awareness and funds for the charity. "I feel so grateful that I can, the people in the trenches are the people who do work day-to-day and it's super impressive because they don't get a lot of credit for it."

Check Caitríona’s Twitter and you'll see how impassioned she is about this, as well as being a big supporter of other issues: she was vocal on repeal, supports ethical fashion choices and promotes a meat and dairy-free lifestyle.

"I believe that no matter what you do you should be a responsible citizen of the world," she says, "I think a lot of my social media is promoting issues I believe in and causes that I believe in.

“As for my more private life, frankly I'm not interesting so I don't like doing selfies, my partner is super private so he isn't on any social media and doesn't want to be so nothing is said about him. So yeah, that's naturally how I am!"

It's clear as the conversation goes on how grounded Caitríona is. She's fiercely proud of her Irishness and uses it as a conversation starter worldwide (*We command goodwill - people genuinely like us!") and while she laments how badly her name gets 'butchered' she misses the fada which she dropped for ease some years ago. "I'm devastated about it!" she says, before also confessing that technology had some part to play in its demise.

"In the early days of computers I didn't know how to put it on! I just learnt a couple of months ago, like ohhh it's that button there. So I might bring the fada back."

And she hasn't ruled out an upcoming wedding in Ireland - the actress is recently engaged to intensely private music producer Tony McGill, but plans for the nuptials are still undecided. Would she consider coming back to Ireland to tie the knot?

"If you put a sun lamp over it, yeah I'd love to!" She laughs. Wedding planning is not really her thing however, and doesn't garner giddy chats and wishlists.

"I would just love to have all of my friends and family and have a great party," she clarifies when coming across as less than enthusiastic about planning her perfect day. "I think the production side of it is just too much like work!"

And finding time that suits both their schedules is also proving challenging, with Caitríona lined up to film in LA with Matt Damon and Christian Bale. It's a biopic of mechanic and driver Ken Miles (Bale) and the conflict between Ford and Ferrari during the 1960s. "I play Christian Bale's wife and James Mangold [Walk the Line, Logan, The Wolverine) is directing. It's set in the sixties, it's all about Le Mans, the 24-hour race so it's a lot of fast cars, hot men and me!" She laughs. "I've been watching loads of documentaries on Le Mans which is really cool."

And this is Caitríona: totally unfazed, seemingly, by the prospect of working with some of Hollywood's most famous actors and directors and yet, nerdily researching so she can be prepared on the day. Oh, and consciously enjoying it too. With more projects in the pipeline, that demand is only going to get higher, but of one thing I can be sure: to her own self, Caitríona Balfe will always be true.

Remember… we command goodwill - people genuinely like us! ☘️ — Caitríona Balfe

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Irish Tatler #July 2018 #YouTube #My screenrecording

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cloud-somersault · 7 months ago

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Your fic "The constellations within us" was so perfect, and exactly what I wanted and needed for since I joined the fandom. I wish I had eloquent words but english is not my native language, and I'm struggling with the translator now, but this fic is probably one of the most high quality ones I’ve ever read so i've finally worked up the energy to leave a solid comment.

I love your prose, the descriptions and internal monologues are so immersive and emotional that I need to reread over and over again. The worldbuilding scratches my brain real nice, all contribute to make a really cohesive image that canon still doesn't quite achieve in my opinion. And you did a good job capturing the mood and humor of the show with every little detail but at the same time you’ve added a whole new dimension to the plot and characters. Keep cooking, I beg you but also have mercy on me. I imagine you saying something like: I am going to create an situation that is so emotionally fucked up before writing any chapter.

I really love the way shadowpeach interact in this story. From trying to kill each other to sharing the food. It's kinda crazy that people genuinely thought shadowpeach was a one sided crush until s4.

To be honest, I'm not a fan how the fandom treats shadowpeach but you have successfully kept the characterization of mystical monkeys to perfection while setting up a realistic shadowpeach plotline. I read this quote in another fic but it applies very well to them: "They really embody the pain/comfort thing, except that comfort is understanding and trust."

Sun Wukong is canonically a latent danger that not even the most powerful entities in celestial realm or underworld could subdue him, but he has no self preservation skills whatsoever. He's a bleeding heart. He's the one who sacrifices everything possible to protect the few he loves because, god, he has lost so much. The immortality he achieved with peaches, wine, pills, among many other things, may have made him indestructible on the outside, but inside they made him emotionally vulnerable, lonely and afraid of attachment. This monkey can fit so much trauma and he's holding a lot close to his chest even from the audience. The fandom villainizes him unfairly, but sometimes they also put him on some kind of pedestal, which is also incorrect.

The same happens with Macaque. He's the walking mystery who may or may not realize how much of a prickly capricious hypocrite he is in some things. For example, he feels an apparent resentment at being relegated to being a mere shadow of someone much brighter, but at the same time he seems unwilling to step out of that role. In s1 and s3, he clings so much to the past that he pushes Wukong, the only constant of him in a modern world after his resurrection, to be the version he remembered. Where Wukong advanced, Macaque retreated.

Nonetheless, the motives behind every action of his are more nuanced than him just being evil. He did once he was free from LBD's control was immediately start helping everyone even until s4, as if it were a tacit way of apologizing because he was just trapped under incredibly shitty circumstances, let's remember the part where LBD said she'd kill him if he didn't do what she wanted. Although I don't think he didn’t have fun knocking everyone around a bit (to his ex-husband especially).

It's little funny because I consider that before the perigranation trip, Wukong is a self-proclaimed hero with destructive or villainous tendencies (depending on which side you look at, celestial Realm definitely sees it that way still) while in the current timeline, Macaque is a self-proclaimed villain with heroic tendencies.

I wont keep rambling, but thank you again for pouring your time and talent into this beautifully painful read. I can't wait to chew on the next chapter like a hungry dog with a good steak and also I'll be keeping an eye out for your future works, in case you continue writing about queer monkeys with emotional constipation, but if not, it's such a treat to read what you've already gifted us. Have a good week! and sorry for any translation errors again.

AAAAAH i'm sorry i've taken so long to respond to this. this ask is SO SWEET and i loved just rereading it over and over to suck all the serotonin out of it. Filled me with gleee!!

Thank you so much for taking the time to translate and write out this message! There weren't any errors, it's okay! I'm so glad you liked my story sm and read it and ENJOYED IT YAAAAAY!!!

honestly, I only cackle evilly before posting chapters sometimes. Only sometimes, when I remember. I usually cackle while writing, but then, by the time I've posted it, I've read it so much, it doesn't have that emotional impact on me anymore LOL

I think that's a great way to sum up shadowpeach! It's about understanding and trust. No matter what, that trust has to be rebuilt, and that process is so painful and hard and time-consuming that...it takes such a great amount of effort on both their parts. It's the choice to persevere in spite of that amount of hardship that makes them beautiful, even if what they create together isn't inherently beautiful. What's beautiful is that, in spite of tragedy, these two monkeys want to be together in whatever way they can.

I think with any fandom, people are going to misinterpret characters. I've kind of gotten used to it, but there's definitely a lot of missed nuance and character depth that the fandom chooses to not see or doesn't except. Maybe they like to keep it surface level, but i think critically thinking about the plot and characters is where you can find depth or make depth of your own that's not present in the show.

Wukong is either a trickster villain or a precious soul who has done no wrong and needs to be protected. Macaque is usually a mustache-twirling villain or a sweet, bashful monkey who was just pretending all that time! and has never done anything bad.

A lot of the fandom sees things in a clear black and white way, which is dangerous for several reasons, but it means that their interpretations lack that depth or understanding that people crave. Because no one is black and white. The world doesn't work that way, so it's kind of worrying that they think that's...normal. It's not normal. I see it as a lack of life experience and maturity, but I also don't know these people. Maybe they like their fictional worlds to be black and white, I dunno.

Aaaanyway, you're not the first person to speak about this topic with shadowpeach and how, through constellations, they found some understanding or were pleased with how shadowpeach interacted. and to that I say, thanks! I just like some realism and three dimensional...ness to my characters, please and thanks. Don't even get me started on MK.

But wow! Yes! I'm so honored you'll keep reading whatever I write next. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing, and I'm just smashing my dolls together, but I'm happy to have you here in Constellations AU land! Welcome! Enjoy your stay 💕

#ask #anon #fave #constellations fic #long post

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thehollowprince · 4 years ago

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Teen Wolf fans and viewers don’t dislike Scott McCall because Tyler Posey is half Mexican. Teen Wolf fans and viewers dislike Scott McCall because Scott McCall is a badly written and portrayed Gary Stu with a bad case of plot armor played by a shitty actor who can’t act. Scott’s Mexican heritage (or canonical lack of thereof) has nothing to do with it. Even Tyler Posey prefers Stiles and Derek to Scott and admitted that he would have wanted to be Derek instead. It’s called having taste ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Having taste? You're probably one of those people who thinks mayonnaise is too spicy.

But let's look at this for a second.

Gary-Stu - the female version of a Mary-Sue. I found two definitions to help better describe that character trope.

And a more detailed version.

Now, who is a character, one of the protagonists (or THE protagonist, according to you and yours) who has no particular skills or powers in a world full of supernatural creatures, going up against the most powerful and dangerous and somehow manages to survive do to his plucky attitude and plot armor?

Hmmmm?

Certainly isn't Scott.

... or Derek, or Allison, or Lydia, or Kira, or Danny, or virtually any other character. No, there is really only one character that fits that description, particularly in fandom where said character, who shall remain nameless (*cough*stiles*cough*) is given random power-ups ro to his Spark, which is the greatest Spark to ever Spark in the history of Sparks! Or who has better martial arts skills than characters who have spent their entire lives studying hand-to-hand combat. Or someone who understands physics and chemistry far better than anyone else, even the canon character who is shown to be an actual genius. Or who is a master planner, better than people like Gerard and Theo and Peter?

Remind me again who the Gary-Stu is?

#asshole anon #teen wolf racism #teen wolf fandom problems #scott mccall defense squad #anti stiles stilinski

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chloelucia13 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 13: The Gate

Pairing: none for the moment (currently Jonathan Byers x Platonic!Henderson!reader)

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: You were stuck on the bench, and after deciding to try and do something to help Will, you had secretly wished that you had stayed at home. But at least people say dumb things when they’re dying, and other people say even dumber things when the person they love is dying.

Warnings: ANGST TO THE MAX, maybe like a hint of fluff, language, some vivid descriptions of gore, violence, just get ready to sob

Word Count: 9323 (holy SHIT)

A/N: And season 2 has come to a close in the saddest fucking way possible (just read it and you’ll see). I highly advise grabbing some tissues for this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy! As always, the taglist is open!

Tags: @just-my-fandom, @nightbu-g

Mike immediately ran forward, taking Eleven into his arms and pulling her into a tight hug.

“I never gave up on you,” Mike told her, pulling away to look at her. “I called you every night. Every night, for-”

“353 days,” she completed his sentence. “I heard.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were there? That you were okay?”

“Because I didn’t let her,” Hopper spoke up, stepping forward. Mike stepped away, and Hopper took Mike’s spot in front of El. “The hell is this? Where you been?”

“Where have you been?” Mike repeated as Hopper pulled El into a hug. “You’ve been hiding her.” He grew angry, shoving Hopper. “You’ve been hiding her this whole time!” he shouted.

“Hey!” Hopper shouted back. “Let’s talk. Alone.”

Hopper took Mike into Joyce’s room, leaving everyone in the living room to digest what just happened.

You stepped forward, setting your machete on the floor before stepping over to El, who seemed to be distressed. You could hear Mike and Hopper shouting from the other room as you rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, okay?” you told her. “You haven’t really learned it yet, but men get angry really easily. Don’t worry about them.” She nodded slowly and you pulled her into a hug. “It’s good to see you, sweetie. I’m glad you’re okay. And I kinda dig the outfit.”

She smiled at you as you stepped away from her, allowing Dustin and Lucas to give her a hug. “We missed you,” Lucas spoke as the three of them hugged.

“I missed you, too,” she whispered.

“We talked about you pretty much every day,” Dustin told her as they pulled away from the hug.

She looked between the two boys before stopping at Dustin, reaching forward. “Teeth,” she stated, touching his mouth.

“What?”

“You have teeth.”

Dustin grinned at Lucas. “Oh. You like these pearls?” He chuckled before making a purring-type noise, making El look at him confusedly.

“Eleven?” Max spoke up, stepping forward between the two boys. “Hey. Um, I’m Max.” She held out her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Eleven stared at her for a few moments, blinking, before brushing past her and rushing over to Joyce, who immediately pulled her into a hug. They spoke for a few moments before Joyce led her into Will’s room.

“Don’t take it personally, Max,” you told her, stepping over to her. “Eleven doesn’t really know how to... socialize.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Eleven leading Joyce into the kitchen, stopping at the kitchen table.

“You opened this gate before, right?” Joyce asked Eleven, pointing to the scribbled letters on the back of the notepad.

“Yes,” El answered gravely.

The group began walking towards the kitchen, listening in on the conversation.

“Do you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?” Joyce voiced with urgency and a hint of hope.

El looked over at Joyce before staring off for a moment. “Yes.”

***

“It’s not like it was before,” Hopper explained with a sigh, trying to shut down the idea of having El close the gate. “It’s grown. A lot. I mean, that’s considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs.”

“Demo-dogs,” Dustin corrected, turning to Hopper.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, uh, demo-dogs. Like demogorgon and dog. You put them together, it sounds pretty badass-”

“How is this important right now?”

“It’s not. I’m sorry.” Dustin closed his mouth and turned around as quick as he did before.

“I can do it,” Eleven broke in, looking over at Hopper.

“You’re not hearing me-” Hopper began.

“I am hearing you. I can do it.”

“Even if El can, there’s still another problem,” Mike argued. “If the brain dies, the body dies.”

“I thought that was the whole point,” Max said.

“It is, but if we’re really right about this... I mean, if El closes the gate and kills the Mind Flayer’s army.”

“Will’s a part of that army,” Lucas connected.

“Closing the gate will kill him,” Mike concluded.

Everyone was silent for a moment, letting Mike’s words sink in.

“But those creatures,” you began, thinking through your words, “they’re individual parts of the Mind Flayer. Will is just a vessel for the Mind Flayer. His life isn’t dependent of the Mind Flayer. So, if we kill off the Mind Flayer, I don’t think it will kill Will. It’ll just kill off the part of the Mind Flayer that’s inside of him.”

“I mean, I guess,” Mike sighed. “But do you think it’s safe to risk it?”

Silently, you shook your head, slouching slightly.

Joyce rose to her feet from her seat, walking from the kitchen and into Will’s room. Everyone followed behind her, like a silent parade of worry and fear.

You felt your stomach churn when you saw Will laying still in his bed, his skin damp with sweat despite the harsh chill of the room.

“He likes it cold,” Joyce spoke.

“What?” Hopper answered, looking at her confusedly.

“It’s what Will kept saying to me. He likes it cold.” She moved to the open window, yanking it closed. “We keep giving it what it wants.”

“If this is a virus, and Will’s the host, then...” Nancy said, looking down at Will.

“Then we need to make the host inhabitable,” Jonathan completed her thought.

“So if he likes it cold-”

“Then we need to burn it out of him,” Joyce concluded.

“We have to do it somewhere he doesn’t know this time,” Mike informed, trying to avoid what happened the last time.

“Yeah, somewhere far away,” Dustin agreed.

Hopper stepped forward from his spot against the wall. “I know a place,” he claimed as he wrapped the comforter on the bed around Will’s body, scooping him up into his arms. “Come on.”

Joyce and Jonathan followed behind Hopper as he rattled off directions, carrying Will out to Joyce’s car.

“We’ll need to find heaters, radiators, anything that would heat up a room,” Nancy instructed.

“There’s probably something in that pile of stuff we pulled out of the shed,” you told her.

She nodded, and the two of you hurried out into the backyard, Steve following close behind. Steve shone his flashlight on the pile of trash, the three of you quickly starting to search through it.

“You guys should go with him,” Steve spoke up, pulling a radiator out of the pile.

“What?” Nancy voiced, shining her flashlight on the pile as you rifled through it.

“With Jonathan.”

“No, I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

“Or Dustin,” you added.

“No one’s leaving anyone,” Steve corrected. “I may be a shitty boyfriend, but turns out I’m a pretty damn good babysitter.”

“No, you’re not taking my title of babysitter.” You stood up straight. “I’m staying here. Nancy, you should go with Jonathan.”

Nancy looked between you and Steve. “Are... Are you guys-”

“No!” You and Steve shouted simultaneously.

She sighed, looking down. “But Y/N, you and Jonathan-”

“Trust me, Nancy. He likes you a lot more than he could ever like me. It’s okay.”

She turned to look at Steve. “Steve...”

“It’s okay, Nance. It’s okay.”

She stood there silently, tears welling in her eyes. “Go, Nance,” you told her, patting her shoulder. “He needs you. We’re gonna be with the kids.”

You gathered the few heating materials you could find and carried them over to Jonathan’s car, blinking away the tears in your eyes. You set them in the backseat of the car before closing the door and walking up on the porch. Nancy climbed into the passenger seat and you gave them both a small wave before they drove away.

***

You had been sitting on the couch since everyone but the party and Steve had left, staring off into space and letting yourself wallow in your own pity.

“Alright, I think it should fit now,” Dustin announced, his voice startling you back to the present.

With a huff, you pushed yourself to your feet and walked over to the kitchen, letting out a sigh of frustration when you saw the mess on the floor Dustin had made. Behind him Steve stood with the demo-dog in his arms, which was wrapped in a blanket.

“Is this really necessary?” Steve grumbled.

“Yes, it is, okay? This is a ground-breaking scientific discovery. We can’t just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It’s not a dog.”

“No, it’s a creature from the upside down. And I don’t know if you remember this, but we could be killed if we even talk about this to anybody,” you reminded Dustin, pointing to the limp creature.

“They’ll never know. Everyone who works there is probably dead now anyway.”

“It’s the government, Dustin! It’s not like it’s a singular entity!”

“Alright, alright,” Steve spoke up. “We’ll just keep this in the fridge until we know what to do with it. Sound good?”

You nodded silently. “Fine. But you’re buying the Byers’ a new fridge.” You turned to Dustin. “And you’re explaining this to Joyce.”

Steve stepped forward and began to try and shove the creature into the fridge, only to smack its head against the side of it. “Christ, help me out here!”

“What am I supposed to do!” Dustin argued.

“Get the door, man!”

Steve wedged the creature into the fridge, all while grumbling profanities, and Dustin closed the fridge door behind it.

From the other room, you could hear Lucas and Mike bickering, but you were too focused on the creature in the fridge to decipher exactly what it was about.

“Listen, dude, a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. Alright?” Steve broke in, stepping into the living room.

“Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game,” Mike snapped. “And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

Steve stammered for a response, feeling defeated by Mike’s argument. “So my point is...” He stopped, searching for the words to say. “Right, yeah, we’re on the bench. So, uh, there’s nothing we can do.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Dustin claimed. “I mean, these demo-dogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”

“If we get their attention...” Lucas voiced.

“Maybe we can draw them away from the lab,” Max finished his thought.

“Clear a path to the gate,” Mike concluded.

“Yeah, and then we all die,” Steve countered, shutting the conversation down immediately.

“That’s one point of view,” Dustin hummed.

“No, that’s not a point of view man. That’s a fact.”

“I got it!” Mike exclaimed hurrying out of the room and into the kitchen, kneeling down in front of a certain point on the map of tunnels. “This is where the chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel. So...” He pushed himself to his feet, running over to another spot on the map. “Here. Right here. This is like a hub. So you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire-”

“Oh yeah. That’s a no,” Steve attempted to shut down.

“The mind flayer would call away his army,” Dustin continued.

“They’d all come to stop us,” Lucas added.

“We circle back to the exit!” Mike joined in.

“Guys-” Steve warned.

“By the time they realize we’re gone,” Mike ignored Steve.

“El would be at the gate!” Max finished.

“Hey, hey hey!” Steve shouted, clapping his hands. “This is not happening.”

“But-” Mike whined.

“No, no, no, no, no. No but’s. I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on. We’re staying here. On the bench. And we’re waiting on the starting team to do their job. Y/N, help me out here.” He turned to look at you.

You shrugged, pursing your lips. “I mean...” you sighed. “Maybe it would work?”

Steve scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

“This isn’t a sports game, Steve. This is someone’s life, someone who I care a lot about. I don’t think I can just sit on the sidelines and wait.”

Just as Steve was about to argue, the sound of a loud engine revving echoed from the silent night outside. Max got up and ran over to the windows to investigate, everyone else following behind her.

“It’s my brother,” she announced. “He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

You wrung your hands together nervously. “Okay, you guys get out of sight. Steve and I will try and talk to him,” you instructed before you and Steve hurried onto the front porch, closing the door behind you.

The car lurched to a stop and Billy got out of the car, a cigarette between his lips. “Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” he shouted from his car, smoke falling from his mouth like a dragon.

“Yeah, it’s me don’t cream your pants,” Steve huffed, his hands on his hips.

“And who’s that little lady who’s with you? That your new girlfriend, buddy?”

“No!” you and Steve shouted simultaneously.

“Why does everyone think that?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

Steve just shook his head, walking over to Billy as Billy shucked his jacket off. “What are you doing here, amigo?” Billy questioned.

“I could ask you the same question. Amigo,” Steve scoffed.

“Looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here.”

“Huh. That’s weird. I don’t know her.”

“Small. Redhead. A bit of a bitch.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry, buddy.”

Billy pulled the cigarette out from between his lips. “You know, I don’t know, this... This whole situation, Harrington. I don’t know. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh yeah. Why’s that?”

“My 13-year-old sister goes missing all day. And then I find her with you in a stranger’s house. And you lie to me about it.”

Steve chuckled. “Man, we’re you dropped too much on your head as a child, or what? I don’t know what you don’t understand about what I just said. She’s not here.”

“Then who is that?” Billy pointed to the window, and you all turned to see all of the kids’ heads peeking through the window.

“Oh shit,” Steve sighed. “Listen-”

Billy grabbed the Steve’s jacket before shoving him to the ground. “I told you to plant your feet.”

Steve groaned out in pain, and Billy kicked him in the stomach before stomping past him and up the porch.

“I’d advise you to back up, and go the fuck home,” you hissed, squaring your shoulders as he stepped up onto the porch.

“Aw, that’s cute. Now if you wouldn’t mind scooching over, that’d be real great,” Billy hummed, his eyes dead as he bent down to your level.

“Go fuck yourself.” You picked up your foot and kicked him in the knee, making him stagger for a moment.

“You’re a feisty bitch, aren’t ya?” He stood up straight and grabbed your shoulder, squeezing it tightly before shoving you to the side, pushing you away from the door. You fell onto your hip, letting out a hiss of pain as he stomped through the front door. It slammed shut a moment later, and you scrambled to your feet.

You pushed the door back open, seeing that Billy had already backed all the kids into a corner. “I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max,” Billy hissed.

“Billy, go away,” Max begged.

“You disobeyed me. And you know what happens when you disobey me.”

“Billy-”

“I break things.” Billy turned to Lucas and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, backing him up into the kitchen and shoving him up against a cabinet as everyone shouted at him to stop.

Billy got in Lucas’ face, hissing something you couldn’t quite make out, and a moment later, Lucas shoved his knee into Billy’s groin, making Billy stumble back in pain.

“So dead Sinclair! You’re dead,” Billy growled.

Steve popped up behind him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around. “No, you are,” Steve huffed before swinging his fist, having it connect with Billy’s nose.

“So you’re abusive and racist, huh, Billy?” you hissed, stepping forward so you were next to Steve.

Billy stood up straight, laughing maniacally. “Oh sweetheart, I already knew you had some fire in you. But it looks like Steve actually has some fire in him after all! I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve that everyone’s been telling me so much about.”

“I mean, we could, but I think all that hair muffles your hearing a little bit, bud,” you growled.

Steve held his hand out, signaling you to stop, before he gently shoved Billy back. “Get out,” Steve stated simply.

Billy stared at him for a moment before swinging a punch, which you and Steve effectively dodged. Steve swung and landed another one on the left side of Billy’s face. You stepped forward and elbowed him right in the ribs, making him hunch forward. Steve landed a few more punches as you stayed back and guarded the kids.

Billy was backed up against the sink, and he grabbed a plate and broke it over Steve’s head, making Steve stagger. You immediately hurried forward to try and block Steve, only for BIlly to shove you to the side and land a punch to Steve’s face.

Billy stomped forward and held Steve up by his jacket. “No one tells me what to do!” Billy shouted in Steve’s face before colliding his forehead with Steve’s, sending him flying.

You ran up and hopped onto Billy’s back, wrapping your arm around his neck in a chokehold as you tried to yank him back. With your other hand, you pulled at his hair with all your might. Billy surged forward, flinging you off his back and sending you tumbling to the ground.

You laid there limply and watched as Billy knelt over Steve’s body and mercilessly landed punch after punch to Steve’s face. From your peripheral, you watched Max approach him, a syringe in her hand. She stabbed the needle into Billy’s neck and injected him with the tranquilizer that was in it.

Billy froze, the syringe sticking out of his neck as he registered what had happened. He stumbled to his feet and turned to face Max, a look of shock on his face. He yanked the syringe from his neck, looking between it and Max. “The hell is this?” he slurred. “You little shit, what did you do?” He swayed for a few moments before falling back onto the floor.

Max grabbed Steve’s bat from the floor and held it over her head. “From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?” she growled.

“Screw you,” he mumbled.

Max swung the bat down, landing it in a space on the floor just between his legs. She ripped it from the floor and held it above her head once more. “Say you understand! Say it! Say it!”

“I understand.”

“What?”

“I understand.” He finally succumbed to the drug, and Max stepped forward to grab the keys from Billy’s pocket.

Dustin immediately rushed over to you, helping you to your feet. “Do you think you can drive?” he asked.

You scoffed. “I can barely drive normally. There’s no way. I can barely see anything. I think I have a concussion.”

“I can drive,” Max announced.

“Alright,” you mumbled, too tired and out of it to argue. You followed her into the car, sitting down in the back as all the boys attempted to carry Steve’s limp body.

*** You were all nearly to the hole when you heard Dustin talking beside you. “Is he awake?” you grumbled, lifting your head from the car window.

“What’s going on?” Steve grumbled. “Oh my god!”

“Just relax, she’s driven before,” Dustin reassured Steve, trying to keep him calm.

“Yeah, in a parking lot,” Mike argued.

“That counts!” Lucas defended.

“They were gonna leave you behind,” Dustin continued.

“Oh my god!” Steve shouted again.

“I promised that you’d be cool, okay?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s going on?” Steve cried out as Max picked up speed. “oh my god. No! Whoa! Stop the car! Slow down!”

“I told you he’d freak out!” Mike shouted.

“Stop the car!”

“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Max chided.

“Shhh! My head hurts and you’re all being too loud!” you whined, clutching your head.

“Oh wait, that’s Mount Sinai! Make a left!” Lucas instructed.

“What?” Max voiced, beginning to panic.

“Make a left!”

Max immediately jerked the wheel, taking out a mailbox as she swerved slightly before turning sharply into a field. She sped quickly through the field before screeching to a hard stop right in front of the hole. “I told you, zoomer,” Max hummed before parking the car and hopping out.

You all filed out of the car and headed to the trunk, pulling out the supplies the boys had packed away before you left the house. You all quickly slipped on your goggles and bandanas before grabbing your gear.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Steve voiced, trying to find his footing as Mike rushed past him. “What, are you deaf? Hello?” Steve looked around at everyone else who was already suited up. “We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear.” Steve turned to you. “Hey, there’s no chance we are going to that hole, alright? This ends right now!” Steve grabbed Dustin’s bag from his hands and threw it to the ground.

“Steve, you’re upset, I get it,” Dustin soothed. “But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance. Now, I know that you promised Nance that you would keep us safe, so keep us safe.” Dustin grabbed Steve’s backpack from the trunk and handed it to him.

You grabbed your machete and patted Steve shoulder. “So suit up, loverboy,” you hummed, brushing past him.

He sighed before reluctantly taking the backpack and putting on the mask and goggles Dustin had brought for him.

Once he was ready, he stepped in front of the group and stared down the hole, letting out another sigh before helping everyone down into the hole. He hopped down afterwards, pausing for a moment to take in the new atmosphere.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out after a moment.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s this way,” Mike instructed, referring to the quick makeshift map he had copied from Will’s drawings.

“You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?” Dustin urged, looking in the same direction Mike was facing.

“I’m 100% sure. Just follow me and you’ll know.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey. I don’t think so,” Steve argued, stopping Mike in his tracks.

“What?” Mike huffed.

“Any of you little shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?”

“Steve,” you scolded, arching a brow at him.

“Sorry.” He let out a breath. “From now on, I’m leading the way. Come on, let’s go.” He began marching forward, trying to get this done as quick as possible.

It had only been about 20 minutes or so when the strange ashy substance in the air grew thicker, acting as a fog of sorts..

“God,” Lucas stated incredulously.

“What is this place?” Max pondered, slowing her pace to look around.

“Guys, come on. Keep moving,” Steve commanded.

Everyone continued trudging forward, but froze in fear when they heard a shriek coming from a few feet behind them. “Shit!”

You all hurried back, seeing Dustin stumbling around blindly and screaming for help.

“What happened?” You urged, falling to your knees in front of him.

“It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth! Shit!” he screeched, pulling his bandana down from around his face and spitting on the ground. A few moments later, after effectively expelling all the spit in his mouth, he took a deep breath and looked up at everyone. “I’m okay.”

“Jesus Christ,” You grumbled, pushing him by his forehead before you got to your feet.

After Dustin got to his feet, Steve continued marching forward. “Y/N, you’re manning the rear from now on!” he shouted from his position at the front.

“Yes sir,” you grumbled with an eye roll before stepping to the back of the line.

***

“Alright, Wheeler,” Steve announced after another few minutes of walking. “I think we found your hub.

You all stepped closer, closing the line up into a small cluster so you could all observe the large clearing Steve was referring to.

“Drench it,” Mike instructed, and everyone immediately got to work spraying weed killer, kerosene, gasoline, and any other flammable substance on the large clearing filled with strange-looking vines.

You all had made quick work of covering the surface area of the clearing, making the entire area reek of chemicals.

The six of you were backed a few feet into the tunnel you came from, with Steve sitting in the front, his lighter in his hand. “I am in such deep shit,” he sighed before flicking the lighter on and tossing in into the pit, watching as it instantaneously burst into flames.

“Okay we gotta go before the demo-dogs get here,” you instructed, pushing yourself to your feet and quickly ushering everyone past you before taking your spot at the end of the line. Everyone’s pace quickened into a run as you tried to get out of the tunnels as fast as possible.

You had only made it a few hundred yards into the tunnels, however, when Mike stumbled and fell to the ground. You reached your hand down to help him up, only to see the vines quickly moving and snaking around his ankles. “Shit, shit,” you whispered, moving to try and pry them off him. “Guys! Guys, get back here!”

Everyone came running back, quickly working to help Mike get out. Steve raised his bat above his head and swung down in an attempt to crush the vines that held Mike captive, only for them to flinch and continue.

You shooed Steve out of the way and swung your machete down, severing the vines and watching them fall limply off Mike’s ankles. Dustin and Lucas quickly pulled him up and you all turned to hurry off.

You let out a sigh of relief and moved to follow behind them, only to feel a tight grip on your ankles. Panic rose in your throat as you felt them tug, yanking you to the ground. You fell hard on your back, all the air leaving your lungs as your body thumped silently to the ground. Through blurred vision, you watched the group walk forward, not realizing that anything was wrong. Your eyes flickered down to your ankles, now trapped in two snaking vines that began slithering up your body.

Bile rose in your throat and you kicked with all your might, only to have one vine snake around your waist and arms, holding you down. Another vine wormed around your throat and contracted, cutting off your air supply. Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to breathe, to move, to speak. You watched as one last vine slipped under your goggles and handkerchief, exposing you to the toxic environment. Your vision slowly began to fade, all of your senses quickly diminishing as you felt your body slip away from consciousness.

Then you heard the stampede.

Demo-dogs trampled over your near-lifeless body, clawing at your clothes and skin as they went. Blood began to well from the cuts, letting out a silent scream when one clawed straight down from your forehead to your cheek and sliced your eye.

Blood flooded into your eyes and your nose and your mouth as everything slowly fell dark and silent.

***

Steve hoisted the last boy up before he tugged himself out of the hole, letting out a tired huff as he landed on the soft earth. His eyes searched around the group, doing a mental count.

And then another one.

“Guys?” he voiced, body filling with worry. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s right-” Dustin began, turning around only to see that you weren’t standing behind him. “Shit.”

Everyone’s eyes grew wide and Steve immediately sat up, adrenaline already coursing through his veins. “Okay, when was the last time we saw her?”

“At those vines,” Mike said, his voice wavering with fear. “Oh my god.”

Steve looked down into the hole before looking back at the group. “You guys stay here. I’m gonna go find her.”

He tugged the handkerchief over his mouth before diving back into the hole and sprinting down the tunnel.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you?!” His heart was pounding in his chest as his mind raced with all the possible scenarios that could’ve happened, all of the things that could’ve happened to you.

Then he heard the soft whimpers.

He froze for a moment, listening. Then he ran faster than he ever had before, faster than when he was being chased by the demogorgon, faster than he thought possible.

“S-Steve,” you choked out, voice strained and shaky. You had only woken up moments before, the grip on your neck now gone.

“Oh my god.” His stomach twisted at the sight of you when your body came into view.

Every inch of your body was covered in cuts, blood, bruises, and vines. Your hair was matted and coated in a thick layer of dirt and gore, your eyes drooping so low he couldn’t tell if they were open or not.

He knelt down beside you and grabbed your machete that was lying just out of your reach, immediately slicing through the vines that kept you pinned to the ground. The moment you were free of your restraints, he scooped you up into his arms with the gentle touch that he would use to hold a baby, minding your wounds. “You’re okay, Y/N. It’s okay.”

“Hurts,” you cried. “I can’t see.”

“I know. We’re gonna get you to a hospital. You’ll be okay.”

“D… Don’t let Dustin s-see me. Please.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

After a minute, which felt like hours to you, you arrived at the opening. “Dustin…”

“I know.” He looked up, seeing the clear starry sky. “Hey Dustin, I need you to close your eyes, bud.”

“Wait, why? Is Y/N okay?” Dustin shouted back leaning over to peek into the hole.

Steve immediately stepped back, hiding your body from view. “Please, dude. Just for now.”

Dustin, noting Steve’s panicked tone, nodded and stepped back, covering his eyes with his hands. “Okay, they’re closed.”

“Okay, guys, I need you to help me get Y/N up and out.”

The two boys and Max peeked their heads in, their stomachs lurching at the sight of you. “Holy shit,” Lucas whispered. Immediately, they all reached down and pulled you up as Steve lifted you. They dragged you away from the hole and fell back, panic in their eyes. “What do we do?”

“We get her to a hospital.” Once Steve got his footing, he scooped you back up and carried you out of the pit. “Can someone radio Jonathan and Nancy and Joyce?”

“It’s in the car,” Max admitted, voice shaking with fear. “Okay, we need to go. Try to get ahold of them.”

As the group stepped towards the car, the headlights began to shine brightly, blinding them for a few moments from the sheer power of it. “Eleven,” Mike whispered. “She did it.”

Once the lights faded, Max hurried to the car and hopped in the driver’s seat, starting the car and speeding off once everyone was inside and you were safely situated.

Mike grabbed the radio from off the seat and began to search for Hopper’s radio at once, trying to recall the channel Hopper had told Jonathan earlier. Once the radio stopped buzzing with static and was now filled with silence, he pressed the button and began to shout for Jonathan. “Jonathan, this is Mike, do you copy?”

“Mike?” Jonathan’s voice came through the machine after a few moments of silence, his voice crackly and tinny.

“There’s an emergency. Y/N, she…” Mike cleared his throat, images of your torn up body flashing through his mind. “She’s not doing good. We’re on our way to the hospital right now.”

“W-What happened? What do you mean she’s not doing good?”

“She got hurt. Really bad. Just… Just come to the hospital as soon as you can.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

***

As soon as Max pulled up to the hospital, the flash of Jonathan’s headlights shone into the car. He sprinted out of the car before it was even parked correctly, leaving the keys in the ignition.

He could get a new car. Buy a new battery. He couldn’t get you back if he lost you.

“Jonathan,” Steve said, noting his presence with a breath of relief. “I’m gonna get the kids inside. Can you get Y/N?”

Jonathan nodded, feeling as if his mind and heart were detached from his body, running further and further apart with each moment.

Once he made sure the kids were inside, he yanked the front passenger seat down to get to you.

At that moment, his body, heart, and mind collided, bringing him to the shocking present. The feeling could be compared to being dunked in ice water, every part of your body and soul being forced into fight-or-flight mode while you still hadn’t comprehended what was happening.

“J…” you muttered, eyes fluttering open to search for him.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. You’re okay,” he whispered, gently scooping you up and getting you out of the car.

“H-hurts.”

“I know. Don’t speak, it’ll make you weaker.”

The moment your body was fully exposed to the cruel and unforgiving fluorescent lights of the hospital, he felt as if he was going to faint.

Your blood had already began to congeal, caking onto your skin and making your clothes cling to your body. Your right eye had a large gash through it, your eyeball scratched and possibly split. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he choked out, walking through the doors of the hospital. He knew he should’ve been looking ahead, searching for a nurse or doctor to help you, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of yours. “I’m sorry.”

With every last bit of energy that you had left in you, you reached up and cupped his cheek, cracking a small smile. “It’ll be okay, Johnny Boy.” A harsh cough ripped through your body, making blood trickle down your lips. “I...I love you.”

With that, you were taken from his arms and placed on a gurney, whisked away from him, leaving him to drown in his own thoughts.

***

“She’s awake,” the doctor announced the moment she stepped into the waiting room, effectively drawing everyone’s attention.

“Can we see her?” Mike asked, eyes pleading.

“Only one at a time, but yes.”

Everyone looked to Dustin. “She’s your sister, you should probably see her first,” Max explained, nudging his shoulder.

Dustin nodded and stood up, taking a deep breath before following the doctor into your room. “Be fairly quiet, she may have a slight migraine from the blood loss.” With that, the doctor left the room.

“Hey Dusty,” you choked out, voice hoarse and crackly.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he spoke, a scared smile on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm, high right now. Probably feel like shit later. They gave me a ton of painkillers.” You tried to flash him a small smile, but winced from the pain that shot through your face when you did so. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “I-I’m okay now. I was kinda scared.”

“I’m sorry. I-I should’ve called for help before it got too bad. I just… Thought I could handle it.”

“It’s not your fault.”You nodded. “How are we gonna explain this to mom?” you joked after a moment of silence.

“We’ll say you got taken and they had some dogs attack you.”

“How long have you been thinking that through?”

“Ever since we got here.”

You let out a chuckle, shifting slightly with a small wince. “So, have they told you guys what all is wrong with me, or are they just waiting for me to find out myself?”

“Well, they said that you have a bruised windpipe, a few broken ribs, a concussion, your eye got cut, and there were a lot of cuts on your body.”

“God, they really did a number on me, huh?”

He nodded, letting out a small chuckle. You couldn’t tell if it was real or if it was just to comfort you, but it calmed you down nonetheless. “The doctors said that you get to come home once you’re stable. They said in about 2 days, if everything goes okay.”

“I’m excited to be home. Gonna eat all the rest of your Halloween candy.” A cough rattled your body, causing you to shiver for a moment afterwards from the feeling of your organs seizing up. A small dribble of blood dripped down your lips, but you quickly wiped it away before he could see.

“Everyone’s excited for you to be home. They’re all outside waiting for you.”

“Really? Why aren’t they in here?”

“The doctor said only one person could come in at a time.”

“Fuck what the doctors say. Tell them to come in here. I wanna see them.”

Dustin flashed a genuine smile this time, running out of the room to grab everybody.

***

Jonathan thought that the most heartbreaking thing he would experience was him losing his little brother, knowing there was virtually nothing he could do to help him.

But when he saw you laying in that hospital bed, half of your body covered in bandages with wires sticking out of your body, he knew that that sight was an extremely close second.

A wide smile spread over your face when you saw everyone flood into the room. “Hi guys,” you rasped.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” Nancy whispered, tears springing to her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

You shook your head slightly. “I’m okay. I-It doesn’t matter.” You searched around the room. “Where’s Will? Is he okay?”

"He’s resting at home,” Mike explained. “He’s okay.”

Questions and concerns were voiced by every person, all eyes on you as you consoled them and reassured them that you were fine. The doctor came in about 15 minutes later, instructing that everyone leave so you could get some rest. Everyone did as they were told, stepping out of the room to give you space.

Well, almost everyone.

Jonathan stood in the corner of the room and waited until the room was cleared out to sit down in the hard plastic seat next to your bed, remorseful eyes trained on your face.

“So, are you an exception to the doctor’s orders, now?” you teased, reaching out and giving his shoulder a weak squeeze.

“I-I’ll leave if you want,” he said, sitting up slightly, ready to leave at any moment.

You shook your head. “No, stay. I missed you.”

He let a small smile crack on his face, his hand slipping into yours with a cautious touch. “I missed you too.”

“Are you doing okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“Jonathan, like I told everyone else, I’m fine. It doesn’t matter.” You squeezed his hand, wincing slightly at the tug on your broken skin when you did so. “You basically witnessed your brother get exorcised. I… I wouldn’t be okay if I saw that.”

He let out a sigh. “I’m not okay, but I will be. He’s okay now, that’s all that matters.” He squeezed your hand in return, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. “Besides, that’s not really what’s on my mind.”

You tilted your head, confusion furrowing your brows and scrunching your nose slightly. “What’s on your mind, Johnny Boy?”

Another sigh, followed by him shifting in his chair. “Do you remember anything when you got to the hospital?”

You shook your head. “No. I-It’s all kinda fuzzy. I guess blood loss and oxygen deprivation does that to you.” You let out a small chuckle, silencing when you noticed the distressed look on his face. “Why?”

“Steve…” He bit down on his lip, thinking of what to say. “Steve told me to bring you in while he took care of the kids.” You stayed silent, allowing him to continue. “When I carried you in, you…” He brushed a hand through his hair. “You told me you loved me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes growing wide for a split second. “Well, I do love you, Jonathan. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for. Even after this week.”

“And I’m really sorry about that. Truly. I… Doing that to you is one of my biggest regrets.” He let out a sigh, eyes darting back and forth as if he was reading from an imaginary script. “But you... You said it like-” A frustrated huff. “Like you loved me, romantically.”

Your lips pursed, silent as you searched for a response. “Like I said, I was on the brink of death.” A shrug. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. You’re with Nancy.”

“But it does matter!”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t, Jonathan. You’ll learn this eventually, but what I feel doesn’t matter on the grand scale of things.”

“It does to me.”

“Why are you so hung up on this? I was almost dead! Forgive me if I say some stupid shit!”

“Because I love you too!”

You closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths before letting out a small chuckle. “Jonathan, th-this isn’t funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not funny. I love you, and I’m serious.”

“If you do love me, like you say you do, then you wouldn’t have pined after Nancy so much. Maybe you do love me, but definitely not as much as you love Nancy-”

“Y/N-”

“It’s okay, Jonathan. Like I said, what I feel doesn’t matter.” You squeezed his hand once more, feeling tears spring to your eyes. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“But I’m not happy if you’re not happy.”

“But I just said that I’m happy if you’re happy.”

“Well, I’m not fucking happy-”

“But you are, Jonathan. You seek out happiness, and you found it with Nancy.”

“But I found it with you too.”

“But who did you choose in the end?”

Silence.

“Exactly.”

He shook his head, letting out a scoff. “Don’t just ‘exactly’ me.”

“What do you want me to say? That you should break up with Nancy and be with me?”

“Yes!”

“Then you really don’t know me at all, do you?”

He clenched his jaw, fingers of his free hand curled into a fist. With a puff of air through his nose, he pushed himself onto his feet and leaned over you, pressing a gentle but firm kiss to your lips. Your eyes widened in shock, but you couldn’t force yourself to pull away.

He broke the kiss a moment later, squeezing his eyes shut and letting go of your hand. “Just give me some time, please?” he whispered, taking a few steps towards the door.

“Don’t I always, Byers?” you choked out, feeling a tear slip down your cheek.

***

Dustin had stepped through the doors with a big smile on his face and even bigger hair. You leaned over and waved at Steve in his car before stepping over to your brother, pulling him into a side hug and hovering your hand over his head. “Hey, don’t mess up the hair! It took me like 30 minutes!” he squealed, prompting a laugh from you.

“God, you’re getting more and more like Steve every day,” you teased, giving his shoulder a squeeze before letting him go and going back over to Nancy behind the punch bowl.

With a sigh, you leaned down and rested your elbows against the table, keeping your face cast downwards to avoid scaring the kids too much.

No matter how many times you had begged your Principal, the PTA manager, even the teachers setting up the dance to dismiss you from your chaperone responsibilities due to your injuries, they denied because “it was your choice to volunteer in the first place” and “maybe you can scare the kids straight.” Yeah, just wonderful.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Nancy told you once again, nudging your shoulder before pouring a glass of punch for a kid.

“Yeah, this gigantic gash on my face sure does go well with my hair and makeup,” you huffed snarkily, waiting until the kid had walked away to sit up straight and turn to face her. “Besides, you don’t have to reassure me all the time. I know I look scary. It’s fine. I’m accepting it.”

She let out a sigh and shook her head. “You’re so stubborn, you know that? Can’t you just accept a compliment?”

“I don’t accept things that aren’t true.”

“Hmm?” She voiced, turning to you. Of course she wasn’t listening to you. Why would she when she had someone else she could pay attention to.

You shook your head, pursing your lips as you stared into the punch bowl. “You know you don’t have to hang out with me the whole time.”

“Y/N-”

“Go. Hang out with Jonathan. I really don’t care. Besides, I don’t think serving punch requires two people, anyways.”

She was silent for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Positive, Nance. Go have fun. One of us needs to have some.”

She left your side the second the last word left your mouth, immediately hurrying over to hang out with Jonathan. You blew out a long breath through your slightly open lips, eyes glancing over the crowd of middle schoolers before returning to the punch bowl, staring at it as if it held all the secrets you needed.

The song changed and you listened to the shuffling of feet along the gym floor as everyone searched for someone to dance for, or they were retreating into a corner to avoid confrontation at all costs. You drummed your fingers along the table and chewed on your lower lip, finally sitting up straight and staring into the crowd directly. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips when you saw that Will and Lucas were already swept off into the crowd. You knew Mike was waiting for El, so you didn’t worry about him. Dustin, however, was a different story.

You watched as he stepped into a crowd of girls, only for them to ignore him, and then laugh at his attempt to woo them. A small pit of dread settled in the pit of your stomach, but you watched as he pushed on. Only to be rejected again. He then retreated over to the bleachers, his gaze focused on the ground.

You searched the crowd and, after deciding that no one would come over to the punch table for a while, headed over to Dustin. “I guess this isn’t either of our nights, huh?” you voiced, plopping down next to him. With a sigh, you reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing slightly. “Don’t take it personally, Dusty. Middle school girls are assholes.”

“You weren’t,” he huffed, still staring at the floor. “And El and Max aren’t.”

“Popular middle school girls are assholes.” you nudged his shoulder. “You’ll find someone, I know you will. You just have to give it some time. You’re gonna be like the new Steve when you get to high school. You’re gonna get all the girls.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” You two sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

“Why aren’t you talking to Jonathan?”

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head slightly. “What do you mean? We-we always talk.”

“Will said you’ve been avoiding Jonathan. Besides, it’s pretty obvious, Y/N.”

“I’ve just been busy.”

“Manning the punch bowl while Nancy talks to him?”

“They’re dating now. It’s fine.”

“Well you don’t look like you’re fine with it.”

“Do you have to be right all the time?”

“It’s a curse.”

You let out a chuckle before sighing, eyes glancing up at the couple for a moment before going to the floor. “There’s just not a point in trying anymore. They’re happy. I can’t compete with Nancy. It’s better to just… Let it go.”

Another pause. “Jonathan really likes you, you know.”

You shook your head. “He may have used to. Any feelings he has for me are strictly platoni-”

“Everyone saw him kiss you at the hospital.”

His words made you choke on your spit, your heart nearly stopping right there. “... Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Well not everyone. But the party saw it. And mom. And Joyce. And Hopper. And Steve.”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands. “You couldn’t have told me then? Or at least at a time other than now?” Your toe nervously tapped against the wooden floor. Then, in a small voice, you asked, “... Did Nancy see?”

“Not that I know of. I think she was getting snacks at the vending machine.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Then another silence.

You didn’t even notice the sound of approaching footsteps as you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts, your heart nearly stopping once more when you saw Nancy’s shoes come into view. “Hey Dustin,” her voice rang clearly.

Dustin looked up, offering her a shy smile. “Hey.”

“Wanna dance?”

“What?”

Nancy reached her hand out. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Dustin took her hand with hesitance, glancing over at you. You gave him a nod and a big smile, letting go of his other hand to let him go with her. “Like I said, Dustin. Ladies man,” you teased.

He gave you a big smile in return and rose to his feet, letting Nancy lead him to the dance floor. Nancy turned to glance back at you, and you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her. She nodded and flashed you a smile of her own before disappearing into the crowd of people.

As soon as the two of them were out of eyesight, you slouched back down in your seat, smoothing your hands over the tulle of your dress. You let your eyes flutter closed as you listened to the music, trying to keep yourself in the present to avoid your emotions from going haywire. That was a bad idea, however, as the moment you closed your eyes, you saw flashes of that horrid night in the tunnels. Your eyes snapped back open a moment later, and a heavy sigh fell from your lips.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Jonathan standing there, his arms crossed over his chest and a sheepish look on his face.

“Hey,” you hummed, mirroring his sheepish look. He sat down next to you, his arms unfolding so he could clasp his hands together and rest them in his lap. “You look nice. You should wear suits more.”

He scoffed, playfully nudging his shoulder with yours.

“What, I’m serious! You look nice!” You turned to face him, letting a smile grow on your lips.

“You look nice, too. Seriously.”

You let out a sigh. “You don’t have to say that, you know.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“But I’m not lying.”

You chewed on your lower lip, your smile almost completely faded away. “Did Nancy send you over here?”

“Why would you think she did that?”

You shrugged. “Pity? That’s one of her strong suits.”

“What if I told you that I came over here because I wanted to? Because I missed you and I wanted to see you?”

“Then I’d say that you’re lying.” You held back another sigh, staring him straight in the eye. “Jonathan, you really don’t need to baby me or pity me. I already get enough of that from everyone else.”

“I’m treating you like a normal human being, not pitying you-”

“But I’m not a normal fucking human! Look at me! I look like a fucking monster!”

He let out a huff and unfurled one of your hands that was tightly gripping the fabric of your dress. He rose to his feet and grabbed your now-unfurled hand, pulling you to your feet as well. “Come on.”

“Jonathan-”

“No, no whining. Come on.” He led you past the crowd and past the bleachers, over to the exit. He pushed past the doors and walked down the hallway, stopping in front of the stairs.

“What are we doing? We can’t leave the gym-”

“Y/N, just be quiet for once. Okay?”

You nodded, watching him as he pulled a tape from out of his pocket. He let go of your hand and stepped behind you, placing the tape into the tape deck of the stereo you had failed to notice. There was a small gap of static as the tape wound before the familiar notes of “Melt with You” by Modern English began to play.

A smile graced your lips once again, eyes twinkling with joy and appreciation. He stepped back over to you, taking both of your hands into his. “Is… Is this okay?”

You let out a chuckle, nodding immediately. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” You slowly slipped your hands away from his so you could snake your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. His hands wound around your waist a moment later, his head resting against your shoulder.

“Anything for you.”

You sniffled slightly, leaning your head against his chest as you two slowly began to sway along to the music.

The song stood out to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. “I didn’t know you could stomach putting this song on a mixtape,” you teased.

Then it hit you.

“Isn’t this song also on your mixtape for Nancy? That ‘For Her’ mixtape?” You pulled your head away from his chest to look up at him.

He sighed. “Y/N, that mixtape wasn’t for her. It never was. I… Hold on.” He stepped away from you and crouched down by the stereo , grabbing the plastic casette case. He traced his fingers over the words on the index card that was taped to the inside for a moment before getting back up and handing it to you. “Read the songs.”

“I-I don’t know how this proves-”

“Just read them. Please.”

You sighed, but obliged. “One, ‘Melt With You’ by Modern English-”

“The song you’d play in my car on a loop when it first came out.”

You pursed your lips slightly before continuing. “Two, ‘Love Will Tear us Apart’ by Joy Division.”

“Your favorite song off of their album.”

“Three, ‘This Must be the Place’ by Talking Heads.”

“The song you said reminded you of us. That as long as we’re together, everything is okay.”

You skimmed over the rest of the song list. “So all these songs make you think of me?”

He chuckled. “Well, everything makes me think of you. But these songs are yours. It’s your playlist.” He stepped forward, taking your hand in his. “Everything I do is for you. I guess it just took me a while to realize it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you looked down at the ground to avoid his gaze. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just... I wanted you to know.”

You nodded slowly, lifting your gaze to meet his. A small smile rested on your face and you squeezed his hand before wrapping your free arm around him. “I do really love you. And I know that it’s too late, but I just don’t think I can keep it in anymore.”

He nodded, slowly beginning to sway to the music once again. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

78 notes · View notes

radbutsafe · 4 years ago

Note

ALL FUCKIN 35 OF THEM SKLNWESDJFPXO

I SHOULDVE EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

A three! I think I’m mid range cause I ain’t terrible but there is still shit I gotta improve and grow in my writing

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to manifest what canon won’t give me and to write more! (though yes it is mainly about the smooching and the— I’ll stop there LOL)

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Hm! My weird research details? I’m that “fun fact, did you know...” in my fics sometimes LOL! I plan on giving a penthouse for erina in a fic and I went through penthouse listings in Japan for floor layouts and locations💀 my research gives me inspo and depth to stuff I think I lack in comparison to others sometimes.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

In terms of fellow fic writers, one of them I can’t name here but she’s an inspiration with her exceptional gift for prose period and her lovely skill at comedy! I want to be as funny as her when I write, I love her ironic situational humor. Other fic writers are @takoyakitenchou, @royaldragonsevgisi15 who I always love sharing ideas with and motivate me to create more! For non-fic writers it would be V.E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, Oda, and Horikoshi! The last two may be mangaka, however they are writers as well to create their stories! The depth these creators have given their worlds and interesting characters theyve given life to are all what I aspire to be like!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

so far uh?? hm everything I’m currently writing are wips lol!! im proud of my wip that has been nicknamed ‘soma panics’ that is a multi-chapter fic that spans like probs 20 plus chapters maybe

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

dialogue! it’s so much fun! and character thoughts. I’ve said to people I may be better suited for script writing

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I think it’s description, of like setting and showing action. also an expansion of my vocabulary LOL

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

erina! I think it’s because canon has shown us many of her different faces and range of emotion.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

SOMA!! chill ass mofo whos more carefree compared to the common shonen protagonist! for other shokugeki characters I’m not sure just yet because I haven’t flexed my fingers enough for the rest of them.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

I guess I should say romance cause that’s what I mostly write LOL!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

sorina and I try to get them to smooch eventually KEK and yeah it’s..usually romantic fluff lmao

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

HONESTLY ALL OF THEM but “soma panics” is my brain child

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

pretty sure it’s digimon....

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

currently shokugeki no soma!!!!

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

uhhhh I guess SNS? LMAO fandoms...all have their quirks to them.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

characters cuddling!!!! or getting the urge to smooch!!!!

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

unrequited love GOOD FUCKIN BYEEEEEE

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I have plot ideas thst can be wild potentially but so far nothing fits this criteria so far that I actually have written.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

depends on the fandom, but if written well, all of it!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

shippy 100% like I said I like smoochin

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

romantic is...*drumroll* SORINA! platonic, soutaku and erina and alice!

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Sometimes! There are times songs will be on loop and times I just shuffle a playlist. and if I’m writing in random bursts it’ll be with no music but it really does depend lmao I think music is when I’m forcing myself to write?

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

completely independent ideas, I’ve realized in the past prompts shoot me in the foot often unless I luckily figure something out. but I’m often driven by my own sporadic self interest with shitty ping ponging attention

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

multi-chap I guess cause I can post without being finished LOLLL but tbh can I really answer? I haven’t finished anything.....

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

I can’t answer this question imo because I haven’t finished a fic yet so technically stuff could all fit in the one fic?

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

MYSTERY AND CRIME! I love the genre and I have plot ideas once a blue moon but I can’t dive in because I want to make details that work and reduce plot holes where suspension of disbelief isn’t as needed. I need to study it more (I need to study all the details for any of my fics imo to be confident sometimes LOL)

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I don’t think I can say one comment was the nicest because I’ve gotten comments that have given me quite the smiles to my face many times! I know this is a cop out but it’s true!

IS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY UNTIL REINA SENT ME THE FOLLOWING ON DISCORD LIKE TWENTY MINS AGO:

and also rad. i am never this vocal about my emotions like EVER but this needs to be said your fics are obviously far from perfect, as are mine and everyone else's. but the thing about your works is that they're so well-sanded that it's impossible to find any rough edges or faults in them in terms of cohesion to a plot. your cast is never OOC and the amount of effort you devote to developing your takes on the characters as accurately as possible is unimaginably awe-inspiring.

BITCH I WANNA CRY 😭

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

I’d like to believe I take it often well to try and improve because that’s always my goal. if someone is rude lol that’s not constructive snd is unhelpful. If I disagree with criticism I’ll explain why !

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Not yet, but I have some plot ideas I think will let me test this.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

F L U F F.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

elliott fuji, a japanese-american award winning photographer who is erina’s boyfriend in ‘soma panics’ which..causes soma’s panic LOL he’s 30 with slightly wavy black hair. I still haven’t pinpointed his personality just yet...he kind of humble brags for sure an artsy fucker and flirts maybe I’ll make him a lil shy though. he teaches sometimes, and becomes an adjunct photography professor in Tokyo so he can be with erina.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

a cook is unfashionably late in realizing his feelings.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I am a slow. so slow. motivation who is she? I also write out of order, unfortunately a bit too often.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

this should be for the fic ‘soma panics’ it’s either megumi or satoshi talkin to him rn, I’m leaning towards satoshi

“You thought she would always wait for you, didn’t you Soma-kun? To always welcome you home.”

Soma drags his palms down his face and groans. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t shy from confrontation but this is a whole different ballgame. Soma doesn’t play any ball.

“I guess..?” Is his reply, because he thinks he isn’t sure how to answer that.

“You guess?”

Just being questioned again is enough to crack Soma’s pathetic facade as if it was dropped chinaware and he lets out the longest sigh.

“No.”

Coming home means coming home to Nakiri Erina too.

Nakiri Erina is his forever.

this is @takoyakitenchou’s excerpt she’s most proud of that I’ve written, which is also from you guessed it, the long fic soma panics

SOMA: I am, I mean I will be, I swear I will always come home to you, not spend as much time abroad, once I’m done with work I’ll come right back. I’ll make sure to message you. Nakiri, I’m in love you with you. Maybe for a really long time. You know how I say I dedicate my food to you? My dad—my dad said that the key to become a good chef is to find someone to dedicate your cooking to. A special someone. For my dad it was my mom, you know? For me it’s...

(this is a good piece of dialogue tbh so I am also proud of this)

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I’ve mentioned it throughout this but the WIP I’ve nicknamed ‘soma panics’ is something I’m super excited to write, but it’s going on slowly...and almost completely out of order. out of all of my writing it showed off that particular habit of mine, along with “what is this, a shoujo manga?!” though the latter is currently being written chronologically now that I’ve posted chapter one and is pretty solid in direction. it was originally supposed to be a one shot but I got impatient and wanted to post at least something for the sorina / soueri fandom.

however, because ‘soma panics’ (I won’t call it that LOL) is my baby I want to keep true to my rule of refusing to post it until I have a draft of the entire fic finished and I’m satisfied with the main points pretty much. due to my writing out of order, I’m worried I’ll change my mind about scenes or want to reflect things in earlier chapters for later ones etc etc

I joined the SnS fandom extremely late, as season five was airing. I was a fan of the manga five years ago and dropped it because I forgot to check for updates when I caught up 😔 I really want to bang out the different fics and aus for sorina that I have before the fandom fizzles out entirely but tbh I’m writing for myself, I’m manifesting what I want to see and I’ll just share it with all my friends to read if no one else will. cause I’m slow broski I dunno what writing fast even is like LMAO I do really want to write faster though, so I can contribute more and let the words free from the discord dms....

#ask meme #ask rad shit #writing #writing by rad #fanfic #reina girl u put me thru it I swear lol #thank u for sending!!#ur amazing!!!!

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chenziee · 4 years ago

Text

Swipe left, please

[Read on my AO3 (link in blog description) or by copypasting link below, or under the cut]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932909

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin Ship: Jean/Armin Rating: General audiences Words: 2643 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Airports, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Minor Levi/Eren Yeager, jean is smitten, Because of course he is, Tinder, but not really, jean is a very responsible working adult, armin is a very responsible PhD student, you can interpret those words however you want, hanji is not a responsible lab boss, don't be like hanji in a lab

Summary: Getting stuck at the airport for hours because of the weather was the last thing Jean wanted today, but it was what he got and honestly, if it meant he could chat with this cute guy who swept a hard 'no' on Jean's Tinder for longer, he wouldn't say no to a few more hours.

Based on a twitter post which I don’t know how to dig up.

----------

This is a birthday gift for the sweetest, most precious @roxi4 <3 I’ve said this a lot of times but I love you so much and I wish I could personally beat 2021 into submission so that it’s the best goddamn year of your life for you. But, sadly, I’m not a god yet so I gotta settle for writing fics for now.

Also yes, I am posting here like two weeks late because I’m lazy I’m sorry.

----------

Jean glared at the departure board, wishing he could set it on fire just like that. He understood things like this happened; he could see the heavy rain and wind outside—and people called this spring? Jean demanded a refund—so really, it could have been much worse, but a three hour delay for his three hours and thirty-five goddamned minutes flight was absolutely ridiculous and only slightly rage inducing.

He sighed in frustration and, grabbing his suitcase, he turned away to head to the closest coffee shop. He needed a damn coffee. Preferably spiked or with 8 shots of espresso, he’d decide in the line.

This was seriously so stupid. He had spent an entire week on this business trip and he was tired and the only thing he wanted was getting home to his cat and passing the hell out. At least the Melbourne airport was decent enough and he could safely be bored out of his mind with as much coffee as he needed without worrying he’d catch tetanus like he was at a certain American airport a few years ago. He would take his comfort where he could at this point.

Finally, he managed to order his coffee with only two extra espresso shots—he didn’t want to seem like that much of a psycho but the barista didn't even blink at his order and Jean had to wonder what weird shit the people at a busy airport had to deal with—and headed to the corner of the departure hall that seemed the quietest. There were only a few people loitering around there, all looking just as exhausted as Jean felt. Seemed like Jean would fit right in with their collective coma.

Making his way to one of the empty seats, Jean had to weave his way through the maze of suitcases until one of them caught his attention. Or, more specifically, the book laying carefully bookmarked and discarded on it. Who in their right mind read what looked like an entire fucking encyclopaedia full of words Jean probably couldn't even pronounce while waiting on their plane? No wonder the owner put it aside eventually.

Jean inadvertently looked up at the person sitting next to the suitcase and he did a double take. He had expected some old fart, the type that just screamed of a dreadfully boring college professor who preferred his test tubes or calculations to his students—or people in general, really—not this… tiny, adorable, small animal type of guy who, from his profile, looked around Jean’s age or even younger.

He took in the young man’s small frame, the short, blond hair, and the way he sat cross legged on the hard, uncomfortable airport chair and Jean couldn’t get over how cute the sight was. He was really glad the other man was so engrossed in his phone because even Jean could tell he was staring .

And then something else caught Jean’s eye.

Was that Tinder on his phone? Was that… Jean’s ancient Tinder he was looking at?

Jean felt heat coming up to his face. He hadn’t used the stupid app in years, probably since like... his second year of college. He didn’t even know why he didn’t delete his profile but now he was glad he didn’t because it would be really nice to know if he should even bother trying to strike up conversation here.

With bated breath, Jean waited for the verdict. He watched as if in slow motion as the blond’s thumb moved to touch the screen and swiped—

Left.

Of course it was left.

Unable to stop himself, an awkward laugh forced its way past his lips and he heard himself say, “Hard no for him?”

Even the way he jumped at Jean’s words was cute. And when wide, impossibly blue eyes met his own, Jean felt his stomach drop. Damn, this left swipe really hurt. Jean really had a talent for getting his heart broken before he even had the chance to try. First Mikasa, now this. Did someone up there have something against him?

A few silent, painfully awkward seconds of the two of them just staring at each other passed, until the blond opened his mouth to speak, “If it makes you feel any better, your profile pic really doesn’t do you any favours.”

Jean groaned. Of course. He knew he shouldn’t have let Eren choose his picture, the absolute asshole. He couldn’t believe he still called this guy a friend. Getting roomed with him at the dorm in college was seriously the worst thing to happen in his life.

“Thanks, I guess,” Jean said lamely, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head. Could this get any more awkward?

The other guy laughed then, and it was the sweetest laugh Jean had ever heard. “You’re welcome,” he said, smirning at Jean as he held out his hand. “I’m Armin. Jean, right?”

Jean shook Armin’s hand, almost asking where he had learned his name but managing to stop himself at the last second. They literally just talked about Jean’s embarrassing Tinder profile for God’s sake.

“Nice to meet you,” he said instead, hoping that was a better way to go about it than making a bigger idiot out of himself.

Thankfully, it seemed like it was, as Armin gestured to the empty seat next to him and Jean gratefully took it, making himself as comfortable as he could in the stupid airport chair. Seriously, why were airport chairs always so uncomfortable? People were sitting on these for hours at a time every day, one would think someone would make sure their asses were not hurting. Although, now that he thought about it, cushioned chairs probably wouldn’t last very long—or stay reasonably sanitary, for that matter. It was probably a good thing his ass hurt already.

Jean took his first, long-overdue sip of his coffee before he gestured towards Armin’s suitcase. “Interesting book you’ve got there. Wanted a bit of light reading?”

Armin paused, looking at Jean as if he was trying to figure him out. “Please tell me that was an intentional Harry Potter reference,” he said after a moment. Oh, Jean was so happy he had caught that.

“Maybe,” he only replied, hiding his smirk behind his coffee cup.

Huffing in amusement, Armin glanced at his terrifying looking book instead. “Just trying to do some research for my final thesis. But I have to admit some people really can’t write in an interesting way even when talking about interesting topics.”

“Hear, hear,” Jean muttered. “Some people really shouldn’t be allowed to publish books, especially if they then make people study from those.” He still remembered the pain from school. He particularly enjoyed the teachers who required the students read their own God-awful books. It was always a guarantee for the most boring read of the year.

“I know!” Armin cried, gesturing around in frustration and Jean couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “I can’t wait to finish my Ph.D. so I that can not read the things I don’t want to.”

Jean chuckled at his enthusiasm. He really had to love his field of study to get this passionate about shitty books. “What are you studying?” he asked curiously.

“Marine biology,” Armin beamed, making Jean gulp.

Ocean. Fish. Corals. That was about as much as his humble business management brain knew about marine biology. Couldn’t really impress with that, could he? “And you’re doing a PhD. in that?”

Armin nodded. “Yeah. Actually, I’m just coming back home from giving a guest lecture at the university."

"Melbourne university?" Jean asked, raising a brow. He kind of hoped he was wrong and he wasn't just casually chatting with some up and coming scientist celebrity.

"Yeah," Arming confirmed and blushed slightly.

"Damn, that's impressive," Jean admitted, though now he was positive that if Armin started talking science to him, he wouldn't understand a word.

Armin's eyes dropped as he looked away, obviously embarrassed by the praise, then he shrugged and quietly replied, "Not really. This stuff is really easy when you have good teachers."

Jean shook his head. "Nah, if you don't have it in you, it doesn't matter how good a teacher is. You can kiss any degree goodbye then, never mind giving lectures."

He heard Armin huff in amusement and goddamn it, it gave him butterflies. He was so fucked.

"Thank you," the blond said, smiling at Jean brightly before he continued. "How about you? Where to?"

Jean sighed wearily, sagging in his seat as he remembered his exhaustion. "Also home. On my way back from an absolutely stupid business trip."

"Why stupid?" Armin asked as he turned around in his seat to face Jean properly.

Jean mirrored him immediately, hooking one arm behind the backrest as he leaned on the chair sideways. He really enjoyed talking to this random, sweet stranger and he was really glad it seemed to be mutual. He was going to hate saying goodbye.

Suddenly, he wouldn't have minded if his flight got delayed a few more hours.

"Just, you know, people," Jean muttered in distaste. "One would think only customers can be complete idiots. Turns out coworkers can sometimes be even worse."

Armin laughed at his words, nodding along enthusiastically. "God I know. Sometimes I want to kill the doctor leading my lab. Hanji’s a genius but there is so much energy and she can be so stupid. She almost blows up or floods the lab at least once a week."

"I'm sorry, that must be so hard to deal with—" Jean cringed in sympathy at the mere idea of it— "Reminds me of my team. I love them but once in a while, I just want to fire them all when they start organizing paper boat races in the bathroom. Paper boats made from paperwork they don't want to do, by the way."

"Ouch." Armin sounded solemn but Jean could hear the hidden laughter and he just knew he found Sasha and Connie's stupid ideas hilarious. Which… Jean could admit they were, just not when he was the one who then had to explain the mess and unfinished work to his boss.

“Stop laughing,” Jean hissed, though with no real venom in his voice.

“I’m not!” Armin defended himself, but then burst out laughing when Jean glared at him so he quickly corrected himself, “Okay, yeah, I am. Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all and Jean sighed. “Everyone always finds my suffering funny.”

Armin let him grumble to himself for a bit, the two of them sitting in relative silence for a moment and… it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was actually relaxing and Jean really didn’t want this to end. “So hey—” He paused, glancing at Armin carefully, almost afraid to ask— “when is your flight?”

“Hopefully, in like two and a half hours. Got delayed almost as long as the flight itself.”

Jean almost said it was the same for him but he stopped. Could it be…? “You’re not flying to Auckland, are you?”

Armin visibly startled, blinking at Jean with eyes full of surprise. “Yes, actually,” he said slowly and Jean couldn’t believe it. He had thought he would never see this this cute, fun person ever again but—

“Me, too,” he said quietly and the two of them continued staring at each other in shock for a few moments more until they both burst out laughing.

Incredible. They were both flying to the same place and they would be within reach of each other and maybe there was a point in actually pursuing this. “So, uhm, wanna grab a coffee?” Jean asked awkwardly, pointing in the general direction of the food court.

And only when Armin looked pointedly at his pointing hand, did Jean realize he was still holding his over-caffeinated coffee cup. He really hoped his face wasn’t as on fire as it felt.

Armin only chuckled, thankfully not commenting on Jean’s blunder, and rather suggesting, “How about some actual food instead?”

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

By the time they got off the plane in Auckland, Jean was on cloud nine as he gently squeezed Armin’s hand in his. Jean was still not sure this was real; they had spent the entire time at the airport and during their flight chatting—not that they had miraculously had seats next to each other like in the movies, but Jean did bribe an older lady with wine to switch seats with him—and it was the best damn flight delay he could have asked for.

It felt so natural and easy being with Armin, he couldn’t wait to get to know him more during their date tomorrow, and hopefully many more after. Because Jean would be lying if he said he wasn’t completely gone for this charming, adorable genius already.

As they walked through the exit into the arrival hall together, Armin immediately waved at his friend who was picking him up. Jean had offered to give him a ride since he had his car parked at the airport but Armin had said this friend of his would be worried if he just suddenly cancelled and—

Oh hell no.

Jean stared at the tall, young man with long hair tied up in a messy bun who was walking towards them, watching as his wide smile froze when their eyes met. Of fucking course. Jean just couldn’t have any nice things in life, could he?

“Unhand my best friend, Horse Face,” Eren growled and Jean took a deep breath in an effort to calm down.

It didn’t work. “Unhand my boss, then,” he shot back, throwing a pointed stare at where Eren had his arm wrapped around the short, grumpy man who just so happened to be both Jean’s boss and his ex-roommate’s boyfriend. Levi was already sighing and rolling his eyes at them and Jean really hoped this wouldn’t affect his bonus this quarter.

But Eren started it.

“You have no say in that,” Eren hissed, visibly bristling as his hold on Levi only tightened.

“Oh, so you admit it’s unreasonable?” Jean asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Jean could hear Armin gasp as he finally realized what was going on. Obviously, he also didn’t expect this to happen and Jean was glad he wasn’t the only one. Although, really, how did it not occur to Jean that Armin was that Armin? It wasn’t exactly a common name around Auckland…

Just as Eren was getting ready to snap back at him, both Levi and Armin sighed before Levi intervened, “Shut the hell up, both of you. Have this fight when I’m not around for it or I’m talking Armin and leaving your asses here.”

“I second this movement,” Armin said firmly tugging at Jean’s hand for good measure.

Both Eren and Jean closed their mouths then, both knowing full well that was not an empty threat coming from the short grump. Not that Jean wouldn’t get back by himself but he would be stuck with driving Eren, too, without anyone there to mediate, and that would be a disaster.

They glared at each other silently for a second, until Eren hissed at him, “Usual bar, tonight. We’re having a talk.”

“I’ll be there, I need a fucking drink after this,” Jean muttered back, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Giving Armin a kiss on the cheek, Jean quickly retreated out of Eren’s glare’s range and towards his car so that he could get some fucking sleep before he would go out and get drunk while Eren threatened him with violence for apparently seducing his best friend, or whatever Eren would take out of this… situation. How did shit like this even happen in real life? He seriously wondered what he did in his past life to get karma like this.

At least Armin was worth it.

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killian-whump · 5 years ago

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What can I do if every character Colin plays makes me feel uncomfortable? I liked Hook as a teenager but now as a woman in college I've experienced sexual harassment and I think most Colin characters fall into that category, even Hook. I feel I cannot support the Me Too movement and the victims and yet stand characters who are full of sexual inuendos and violence not even for fun. I love Colin as a person but I can't like his characters and that makes me sad because I don't know what to do.

This Ask is bordering hella close to my new “Colin negativity gets tossed” rule, but I’m going to answer it anyway, because I feel VERY strongly about the shit you’re trying to sling here and how absolutely shitty it is that you’re even trying to sling it in the first place.

For starters, lemme back up your puritanical train for a minute. Sexual innuendos, promiscuity, and even womanizing behavior DO NOT constitute “sexual harrassment” or “violence”. The “Me Too” movement isn’t about stopping men from expressing their sexuality or engaging in sexual behaviors or flirtations unless they can pass a piety test. If a man is an asshole or a user and a woman voluntarily sleeps with him and ends up getting treated badly or used by him in a non-sexual way... it is not a sex crime, simply because sex happened to also occur. JJ Sneed, for example, is a reprehensible human being who steals and kills people indiscriminately, but Maddie Hawkins voluntarily slept with him, knowing he was an outlaw and having been told (by him!) that he could not be trusted and she should not trust him. She was not coerced. She was not forced. She chose to sleep with him, even made the first move, and his ultimate betrayal and mis-treatment of her were not sexually based in any way. Yes, he knowingly slept with a woman he was not in love with - but if that constitutes a sex crime, then almost every sexual creature on the planet’s a criminal now. Furthermore, Captain Hook never ONCE engages in any behavior onscreen that would constitute sexual harassment or violence. He alludes to such behavior once or twice, but these are merely off-handed comments made to other characters for the obvious purpose of maintaining his fearsome “pirate captain” persona - a persona that we are repeatedly shown throughout the series does not fit who he truly is. We are NEVER shown anything onscreen to support the idea of either of those statements being true. Again, he kills and steals, he is NOT a good person - but he is also NOT any kind of sexual predator.

And when the “Me Too” movement and words like “sexual harassment” get used to condemn totally voluntary sexual encounters between men and women, or blustery heresay, or mere innuendos and innocent flirtations - it cheapens the movement itself and weakens the gravity of the actual crimes and abuse that such a movement was formed to combat. It is not “okay” to throw these heavy words and notions around to back up your fandom biases or try to create new ones. It’s shitty behavior, and it can do REAL damage. EVERY time you point at a completely non-criminal sexual behavior and claim it falls under the “Me Too” umbrella, you are actively contributing to and encouraging the mistaken notion that the movement is a farce aimed at vilifying and punishing men for being sexual creatures. It’s BAD and you should feel bad for doing it.

That all said... you’re also flat out WRONG. “Most” of Colin’s characters do not fit the description of sexual predators, and do not engage in any form of “sexual harassment” or misbehavior. There are TWO who do. TWO.

First is Professor Harrison in Carrie Pilby. Not because he coerces Carrie into sex or abuses her - but because he is obviously mis-using his position of power to sleep with his students, and because in this particular case, Carrie is woefully young and possibly even legally underage. Second is Peter in What Still Remains. He actively ignores Anna’s multiple rejections and even tries to physically force her to have sex with him. He is, by any and all definitions, a sexual predator.

Like I said: That’s TWO characters. As mentioned above, Hook and JJ Sneed can be argued to be sexual miscreants in one way or another, but they don’t truly fit the bill of sexual predators. We have no proof that either of them has EVER engaged in sexual misbehavior of any kind. Beyond those four characters, Colin has also played Rowe, Brendan, Peter (Sheerin), Jamie, Conor, Duke Philip, Ben, Michael, Mark, Brennan, Deuxie, an unnamed security guard, and a sweet florist in a music video - ALL of which engaged in absolutely NO sexual misbehaviors of any kind. To claim that “most” of his characters are sexual harassers is a flat out LIE, and if I wasn’t so pissed at you for sullying a valid and important social movement with your nonsense, I would’ve thrown this Ask away entirely for being a flaming pile of bullshit.

Lastly, works of fiction exist in order to explore stories, dynamics and characters that are not real. Fiction portrays both the good and bad traits of humanity - no matter how reprehensible - in order to explore the full gamut of human experience. It is important that “bad” things, like rape and sexual harassment and other criminal behaviors, are presented in this medium - because it enables us to learn about these things and understand how to recognize them and handle them when they (unfortunately, but inevitably) occur in real life. By vilifying actors for playing those kinds of roles, you’re condemning such content for existing in the first place - content that, in many cases, helps to define and set the standards for human behavior.

As always, if you don’t like a role or feel uncomfortable watching a fictional work - opt out of it. No one is forcing you to watch anything. No one is forcing you to support a work. And if an actor’s roles aren’t enjoyable to you? Find an actor whose roles ARE enjoyable to you and support THEM. Don’t expect an actor to change the kinds of roles he takes to please YOU, and DON’T expect the fans of an actor to put up with your condemnation of that actor or the work he has produced because of YOUR discomfort. That’s not our job. That’s not MY job. If you don’t like Colin, or his characters, or his work... too fucking bad. Find someone you DO like and go be a fan of them.

Further Asks in this vein will be thrown out on sight.

AND QUIT USING IMPORTANT SOCIAL MOVEMENTS TO SUPPORT YOUR STUPID FANDOM BIASES.

#fandom drama #not whxmp #just bullshit #anonymous #kw ask box

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golbrocklovely · 5 years ago

Text

only the lonely survive // colby brock - chapter fifteen: and about forgiveness, we’re both supposed to have exchanged

A/N: hey guys :) here’s the next chapter. some crazy stuff happens in this, so let me know what you think. i’ll be coming out with another request at some point soon, so be on the lookout for that.

description of the story

taglist: @ajosieface , @localsleeper , @julyrubyrose , @far-to-many-bands , @absolute-randomness-forever

trigger warning: cursing

word count: 2200

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After talking to Casey for over an hour about Colby and Brennen, I finally went to my room. Removing my dress from the other night and changing into pjs, I scrolled through my phone again out of boredom. I was gaining a lot of followers and subscribers, my dms were filled to the max, and people were tagging me in everything.

This is all a bit overwhelming.

I clicked on my username on insta and went down to my secret account: my Sam and Colby fan account. No one knew of golbrockloves, mostly because I never talked about it. I especially haven't brought it up to Colby.

How do you tell the guy you made out with that you have an instagram dedicated to him and his best friend without looking creepy? Exactly.

I slid down my feed, only to be met with pictures and videos of me. One video was a screen recording of my snapchat from yesterday, me and Colby in the store.

Why does that feel like such a long time ago?

The next couple pictures were from people's stories: screenshots of me and Colby dancing together, me and Colby next to each other in the kitchen, me and Brennen.

I bit my lip anxiously as I clicked on the comments. They weren't exactly bad, but they weren't great.

snc3lifee who the fck is she?????

samnccolbby her @ is skyebennett

lovely_sncc is she dating colby or brennen?

saramcc OMG COLBY AND HER ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER

solby5vr she better stay away from colby!! HES MINE!!!!

dolansnc why can't colby stand next to a girl without everyone shipping her with him? jesus christ this fandom

It was strange to see fans talk about me, as if they didn't know I would see what they were saying. Maybe having this fan account was a good thing: I could see how they all honestly thought about me without anyone knowing.

After reading more and more comments, I could tell most believed me and Colby were together. Or maybe me and Brennen. No one was certain. All they knew was that I was close to both. A lot of fans kept saying that I wasn't dating either one of them and that I was just friends.

While still lurking around on insta, I got a bunch of notifications from my personal account. I switched over to it to see I was tagged in multiple snippets of videos. Clicking on the it, I saw the face of Travis Marcus. He had uploaded a new video to his channel, titled "my truth".

Oh God...

I went to youtube and saw his video was slowly starting to trend. I clicked play and sat down on my bed.

Travis sighed, glancing up at the camera. "Hey guys, it's your boy Travis. Um, I have a lot to get off my chest right now. I'm sorry my energy isn't as high as it usually is. But, I needed to set the record straight. There is a lot of shitty things going around about me lately and I wanted to clear the air and tell you the truth."

"Skye, did you see-" Casey stated, dashing into my room. She stopped when she saw my phone in my hand. We both stood there watching Travis.

"So, as you guys know, I was recently accused of doing something terrible... of bullying another youtuber. I won't say her name because she doesn't deserve any more hate... or clout." His lips twitched, trying to cover up a smirk.

"As if he didn't tag you in the fucking video. Fucking asshat." Casey mumbled.

"One of her friends, Brennen Taylor, an old viner, tweeted that I made fun of her at a party recently. I just wanted to say that this is completely false. What actually happened was that I introduced myself to her. She claimed she was a huge fan and that she wanted to… get with me." Travis nodded his head uncomfortably.

What the fuck.

He continued. “I declined because she was extremely intoxicated. She then proceeded to get upset with me, made a huge scene, got kicked out of the party, and then I can only assume went to Brennen. He was also really drunk, which is why he tweeted in the first place.”

Casey gasped. “Are you kidding me? I'm gonna kill h-”

I hushed her, my eyes never leaving the screen.

“I have footage from that night, because I vlogged it. However, the audio got fucked up so I'm sorry for how muffled it is.” He admitted.

The screen changed to the night of the party. I saw myself standing in front of Travis, talking to him. The audio was complete garbage, low and muffled. I glanced over at the camera, only a moment later Travis nodded at it, smirking. Something I didn't see at the time. My face contorts for a second, he shrugs, and I shake my head, leaving immediately afterwards.

“Now, does that look like I was making fun of her? No. I would never do that. She was upset because I respectfully told her I didn't want to get with her after all her advances. She literally tried later that night to dance up on me, but I just wasn't into her. After I filmed this, she got kicked out for trying to hook up with another youtuber. I think she's desperate for views and just wants more followers.” He declared.

“So, don't give her that attention. And, don't send her hate guys. I wish her and Brennen the best honestly. Sorry this video is so short, I needed to get this off my chest. I hope you all can understand. Peace.” He threw up a peace sign, and then pushed his hand into the lens of the camera, the video fading to black.

Stunned silence fell over the room. Neither one of us could speak.

“Is this real life? I kinda feel like I've had this nightmare before.” I whispered.

“He can't be serious. Does he really think he can get away with this?” Casey shook with rage.

“Why wouldn't he be able to? He has almost a million followers. I just passed 2,000, if I haven't already lost all of them.” My voice faltered.

“I'm gonna call Brennen and see if he can help.” Casey left quickly, pulling out her phone.

I laid my back against my bed, closing my eyes. I took a couple deep breaths, trying to slow down my heart-rate.

That's it.

I sat up quickly. I went over to my desk and pulled out my camera. Setting it up on my tripod, I got comfortable in my chair.

I sighed deeply, then turned my camera on

"Hi everyone. I didn't think this amount of drama would happen to me so soon in my youtube career, yet here we are." I joked.

"I'm sorry if this video is a little all over the place. I'm not editing it. I'm just gonna post it as is.” I clapped my hands together, trying to stop their shaking.

I cleared my throat. “If you don't know, I'm the girl Travis Marcus made fun of. Or he claims he didn't make fun of. I need you all to know that he is lying. I'm not sure why when he could easily just admit he fucked up and apologize. Instead, he did this.”

“I want to tell you guys what actually happened that night…” I stated, looking directly at the camera.

I began to explain that party in detail: how Travis came up to me, how he flirted with me, only for him to make fun of my appearance and film it. I then went on to explain how I left the party because of him ruining my night, only to be told a couple hours later that he got kicked out of the party because he started a fight with Sam, Colby, and Brennen by throwing his drink on Kat.

"I have four witnesses, plus my best friend. And Big Nik's security team could easily corroborate my story. On top of all that, I have this."

I grabbed my phone, pulled open my dms on twitter, and found Travis' message to me. I showed the message to the camera, letting it focus on his words.

Travis: please tell Brennen to take down the tweets. Things are getting out of hand. I apologize for what I said.

"Why would you apologize for something that you didn't do? All of this could have been avoided if you wouldn't have made fun of me. I get you're 'famous' and have the ego the size of a tractor-trailer, but that doesn't mean you get to make fun of random people because they don't fit into what you think is attractive. Be nicer. Be kind. And stop lying to make yourself look good."

I reached over and turned off my camera. I paused, my breath hitching in my throat for a moment.

Holy fuck, did I just film that?

/ / / /

I felt cozy surface beneath me tremble slightly. Three times in a row. I opened my eyes, glancing around my dark room.

Was all of that a dream?

I slid my hand over my bed, finding the item that was vibrating. I turned it over, my eyes closing instantly from the bright light. Squinting, I saw messages from all different people. But the most recent made me smile softly.

Colby: are you up to talk?

I shuffled my body upwards, leaning over and turning my light on. I gazed over at my sleeping laptop, my camera still plugged in. The memories flooded back to me. I uploaded a response to Travis, and instantly fell asleep from anxiety induced exhaustion. I didn't even want to see if anyone supported me or not.

Unlocking my phone, I went to Colby's message immediately.

Skye: just woke up. i'm down to talk.

Moments later, my phone started ringing. I answered it. "Hey Colby."

"Hey. How are you doing?" He asked sweetly.

I chuckled. “I've been better, that's for sure.”

“How long have you been asleep? Everyone's been trying to contact you.” He stated.

I shrugged. “Right after I uploaded the video, I fell asleep. I was just too stressed.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” He apologized.

I held back a smile. “It's okay. I'm alright.”

“So, I guess you don't know what happened.” Colby replied.

“No, what did?” I questioned.

“Travis deleted his video.” He deadpanned.

I sat up quickly. “Wait what?”

“Well, after you posted yours, Brennen and I talked to Big Nik and we found out from him that his friend John was recording a snapchat during the fight that occurred with all of us in it. It shows Travis getting pulled out of the party yelling essentially what he said to you at everyone.” He informed me, continuing. “He cussed and screamed while he got kicked out, and John sent the video to Messy Monday, and they uploaded it to twitter. It's been trending for the past couple hours.”

“Holy shit. So, the snapchat proved me right?” I muttered.

“Yep. Travis took down his video. He's been radio silent since.” He laughed.

“He probably left a few choice words for me.” I said, rolling my eyes.

“If he did, let me know. I got some unfinished business with him.” Colby joked, causing me to let out a laugh. “Besides, before he deleted his video, Sam, me, Kat, and Brennen all came out on twitter and said that you were right. On top of that, apparently a thread was created of how rude Travis has been to fans. So... he's kinda done for.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that. He'll be back in less than a month.” I scoffed, pulling my blanket closer to me.

“Well, even if he does come back, everyone will know you were right.” He reassured.

I picked at my blanket. “Tell that to his fans.”

“Enough about Travis. Is there anything I can do to get your mind off of him?” He requested.

I sighed. “Like what?”

“Go out with me.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“What?” I choked.

“Go out with me. Where ever you want to go, I'll take you there.” Colby promised.

“When are you taking me out?”

“How about tomorrow? Say eight P.M?”

A smile rose to my lips. “Okay... that sounds good.”

“Where do you want to go?” He inquired.

“If you don't mind it... I kinda want to stay in for a bit. Hide away from the world. Maybe you could come here? We could order take out and watch some movies. And cuddle?” I bit my lip nervously.

He agreed happily. “That sounds fantastic.”

“Good. I can't wait.” I beamed.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” He mumbled, yawning.

I shook my head. “No. Besides, you sound like you need to go to sleep.”

“I'll stay up if you want me to.” He admitted.

“No. No, I'm okay really. You should get some sleep.” I declared.

“Alright. I'll see you tomorrow.” He responded.

“It's a date.” I smiled.

“Goodnight, Skye.” He whispered.

I giggled quietly. “Goodnight, Colby.”

<< CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 16 >>

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock story #colby brock fluff #colby brock x oc #only the lonely survive #colby brock fic

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cruelangelstheses · 5 years ago

Text

safe and sound

fandom: avatar: the last airbender rating: T characters: sokka/zuko, jet words: 5.8k additional tags: alternate universe (no bending), first meeting, swordfighting, sharing a bed, light angst with a happy ending, jetko that turns into zukka description: zuko has been searching for a home for a long time. a/n: sup i posted this a While back as an ao3 link for @zukka-week 2018, day 1: swords, but i’m reposting my fics as tumblr posts. this setting is technically an au but basically it’s just like the avatar universe without the four nations/elements, bending, or spirits, and thus the characters’ backstories are somewhat different, and i imagine the city as being pretty much ba sing se

read it on ao3

—

Zuko is not above stealing. He’ll steal an apple or two from a distracted merchant. He’ll steal money from people that he knows have more than enough. He once stole some bandages and medicine after being injured in a fight—the shopkeeper had seen how little money he had and turned him away, and he thought it ridiculous to have to pay to stay alive. No, Zuko does not necessarily object to stealing on principle, not if it’s for survival, not if it won’t hurt the person being stolen from. But something about Jet’s suggestion—to go out on a “spree of liberation,” as he so eloquently (and suspiciously) called it—makes Zuko’s skin crawl.

Jet has “liberated” a lot of things in his life, but Zuko has never actually seen him do it. He’s never really allowed himself to think about it too deeply, nor has he ever asked; it’s one of those things that he’s been content to leave as a mystery. Now, though, he’s about to find out what exactly happens on one of Jet’s “expeditions,” how he gets those expensive-looking weapons and perfectly cured meats.

The night has just begun, the sun having set less than an hour ago, the sky fading from purple to dark blue to black as Zuko quietly closes the door to Jet’s apartment and steps out onto the dimly-lit street. Jet is standing a few paces to the left with his arms folded pensively, and though they both have their faces covered up to the eyes, Zuko can still see the wheels turning as Jet seems to run through an invisible list of potential victims. Finally, he turns to Zuko and beckons with one hand to follow him.

Zuko and Jet have been dating for almost a month now, but the only people who know about it are Jet’s friends. They met at a shitty tavern near the edge of the city, Zuko alone and Jet with those same friends. As it turned out, they were all in similar situations: they were all kids without families, just trying to get by. They understood each other, and that was something precious, something Zuko couldn’t pass up, even against his better judgment.

Zuko has been alone for a few years now, ever since his family died in a devastating explosion. Zuko was the only one to survive, but not without a permanent reminder on his face. He’s been living on the streets ever since then, working odd jobs and sleeping outside or in cheap little inns. Now, of course, he sleeps in Jet’s apartment, which isn’t fancy by any means but serves as the nicest place Zuko has lived in since his family’s demise.

Jet leads him down various side streets into one of the poorer, darker, more run-down areas of the city, the sort of area where one of the biggest concerns is being caught in the wrong place after dark. It’s an area Zuko has spent quite a bit of time in these past few years. In fact, it was while he was living in one of these areas that he decided to buy his dual swords (any weapons that his family had had were lost in the explosion). As Jet slows down and starts to more closely observe the area, slinking against buildings and hiding in dark spots, Zuko’s stomach drops.

“What do you expect to find here?” he whispers, trying to mask his dread. “There won’t be very many valuables.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jet replies smoothly. “And this place isn’t very heavily guarded. You can get a lot more with a lot less risk. I usually start here and work my way up.”

Zuko opens his mouth to say something else, maybe even to try talking him out of it, but before he can actually form words, Jet’s eyes lock on a target: a young woman carrying two bags of food. Zuko thinks he sees bread in one and fruit in the other—basic necessities. Her clothes are plain, and she looks tired from a long day. She is exactly the type of person Zuko would make sure not to steal from.

Reluctantly, Zuko follows Jet’s lead as the woman turns down a lonely alley with few lights and no other people around. Jet darts around the corner after her and uses the end of one of his hook swords to catch her foot and trip her, a trick Zuko has seen him use a few times. The woman falls to the ground, the bags’ contents spilling everywhere. Accompanying the food are a few articles of clothing; it looks as though she just finished buying these things from a nearby market.

The woman gasps and glances up at them, terrified. She seems like she wants to say something, anything, but she’s frozen in fear. Jet swipes one of the pieces of clothing and briefly examines it, as if to determine whether or not it would fit him or any of his friends. Then he turns to Zuko, his eyes narrowed with expectation, silently saying, You gonna help me or what?

At that, Zuko breaks out of his horrified trance—he’s been watching Jet in shock, trying to process everything; he hasn’t even unsheathed his swords. Pulling down his mouth covering, he blurts, “Jet, what the hell?”

Jet stops what he’s doing and tosses the clothing to the ground. Without looking at the woman, he points one of his hook swords at her threateningly, a wordless demand for her to stay put. “Thought you said you didn’t have a problem with stealing,” he hisses to Zuko.

“I do if it’s from people who are just as poor as we are,” Zuko snaps, “if not poorer!”

“Zuko, you of all people should know that it’s every man for himself,” Jet snaps back. He doesn’t waste any time; he’s going straight for the jugular. “You and I, we’re outcasts, remember? We don’t have any allies. We don’t have any family. We had to do everything we could to stay alive. And we still do. You know that.”

Zuko scowls at him and clenches his fists, making his anger clear. Jet’s right, and he’s persuasive, and they both know that Zuko is far from a saint, but none of that stops the feeling in his gut that this is wrong, that he’ll beat himself up for it years down the road if he doesn’t say something now.

“No,” he says firmly, narrowing his eyes at Jet, feeling something akin to disgust rise in his chest, in his throat. “Look at this woman. She can’t be much better off than we are. This isn’t harmless petty theft. You’re practically mugging her. You’re not just doing what you need to do to stay alive; you’re hurting people. People who don’t deserve it—people who didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jet stares back at Zuko, long and hard, his expression unreadable. Then he sighs and lowers his hook sword. To the woman, who is still trembling on the ground, he says, “Grab your things and get out of here. Before I change my mind.”

The woman scrambles to her feet, hastily grabbing the bags and stuffing her goods back into them haphazardly. Within ten seconds, she’s already rounded the corner, running home as fast as her legs can carry her. Zuko silently hopes that nobody else decides to prey on her tonight.

Once the woman is out of sight, Zuko turns to Jet and says, his voice a bit softer now, “Jet, you know I don’t care if you steal from merchants, from the wealthy, from people who have more than enough food and all the money in the world. But I want you to promise me you won’t do something like that again.” Deep down, he knows he won’t be able to stop Jet from continuing to do it behind his back, but he wants something.

After a long pause, Jet says, “Okay. I promise.” It’s quiet but firm.

Zuko, half-expecting Jet to refuse, doesn’t really know what to say, nor does he know what their new plan for “liberation” is.

As if sensing Zuko’s confusion, Jet answers the unspoken question. “You know what?” he says, actually sounding somewhat nonchalant. “Let’s call it a night, okay? We can go all-out some other time. The full moon’s out anyway—too much light.” He raises an eyebrow. “That cool with you?”

Pleasantly surprised, Zuko just nods and says, “Uh, yeah, okay. Lead the way.”

The quick walk back to Jet’s apartment is carefree and comfortable, almost as if nothing happened between them. On the one hand, Zuko enjoys it, feeling like everything has returned to normal. But he can’t shake the tiny, nagging voice in his head that tells him to be on his guard.

They fall right back into their regular evening routine as soon as they return to the apartment: share the same bed (both shirtless), kiss a little (or a lot), fall asleep—Jet with one arm draped around Zuko’s body. In the comfort and safety of the bedroom, the world of crime and violence and immorality feels so far away, like a distant nightmare, like a memory from long ago.

The voice in the back of his mind tells him not to believe it. So when he wakes up in the middle of the night and finds himself alone in the bed, Zuko knows exactly where Jet has gone.

He doesn’t know how late it is or how long Jet’s been out. All he knows is that it’s still dark out (despite the moonlight) and that Jet and his hook swords have mysteriously disappeared. A part of him hopes that it’s not what it looks like, that he’s wrong, that Jet’s not doing anything behind his back. It’s just that, though: a feeble hope, based only on what he wishes were the case, not on what he knows is the truth.

Zuko wastes no time—who knows how many people Jet’s already harassed and mugged? He pulls a shirt over his head and slings his swords’ sheath across his shoulder. Then he heads out into the night, running down the same side streets Jet showed him earlier, searching for any sign of life. He investigates every shadow cast, every movement glimpsed out of the corner of his eye. Just when he starts to think that maybe he was wrong, that maybe Jet isn’t out stealing from the poor, he hears a voice in the distance, yelping, “H-hey!” It’s followed by the clatter of metal hitting the ground.

Zuko bolts toward the direction of the sound. Turning a corner at the end of the street into a dark alley, the first thing he notices is the oddly dark sword lying on the ground near him, a few feet away from the struggle. The next thing he notices is that, just as he suspected, the instigator is none other than Jet, his face inches from the boy he’s antagonizing. “Gimme your money,” he says, his voice low and hostile.

The boy—darker skinned, hair pulled up into a short ponytail, pretty damn attractive—holds his hands up. “Hey, hold on a minute, I don’t have any money,” he protests.

Jet shoves his knee into the guy’s stomach, and the guy gasps in pain. “You’ve got enough for that fancy sword, don’t ya?” Jet says with a slow grin. “Gotta be more somewhere.”

The boy gulps. “And what if there isn’t?”

“Well then,” Jet replies smoothly, “I’m sure that sword’ll fetch a fine price on the market by itself anyway.”

Zuko, who has yet to be noticed by either of them, unsheathes his swords, the sound making his presence known. Jet glances over at him and promptly freezes, like an animal seconds before it’s killed, only much less innocent. “Zuko—”

“Let him go,” Zuko interrupts gravely, taking a few deliberate steps forward. “I’ll fight you if I have to.”

Jet’s eyes narrow, wild with something between disappointment and anger swimming in their dark depths. “I thought you’d understand,” he says slowly, turning away from the boy and tightening his grip on his hook swords. “But I see now that I was wrong about you.”

“I could say the same to you,” Zuko retorts. “Fucking liar.”

Without much warning, Jet lunges at him, hook swords raised, and Zuko blocks them with his own dual swords, steel against steel, the clang echoing through the alley. Zuko shoves Jet back, and as he’s reaching forward to strike with one hand, Jet uses both his hook swords to grab onto the end of Zuko’s, deflecting it to the side. Zuko manages not to lose the sword and swings at him again. Jet leaps backward, but he doesn’t completely avoid the blades; Zuko can distinctly hear and feel the cutting of fabric and flesh, though not very deep.

Jet glances down at the cut on his arm and falters slightly, taking a step backward. Zuko takes advantage of the opportunity and springs on him, making a quick slash at the wrist of his right hand. Jet hisses in pain, instinctively loosening the grip on his sword, and Zuko swings at it with all his might, successfully knocking it out of Jet’s hand. The sword lands on the ground only a foot or two away from the boy Jet was harassing, who snatches it with a clever grin and points it threateningly at Jet.

Jet seems to realize now that he’s outnumbered and lowers his lone hook sword, staring daggers at Zuko. “Traitor,” he spits.

Zuko shakes his head. “I should’ve known. I should’ve known the moment I met you. In a way, I kind of feel sorry for you—the world has been so cruel to you that you think the only way you can survive is by hurting others.” He shrugs. “You’re confused like I used to be. And maybe one day you’ll learn like I had to. But until then…” He puts his swords back into their sheath—he’ll clean the bits of blood off later. “Until then, I don’t want to see you around.” He pauses to let that sink in, and then he adds, “I’ll come back to your place tomorrow to pick up my things.”

Jet scowls wordlessly; he knows he’s been beaten. He holds his hand out toward the boy, who still has Jet’s other hook sword. “Gimme that,” Jet says.

The boy turns to Zuko, as if for permission. Zuko nods at him, and he holds the sword outward. Jet swipes it out of the boy’s hands. He gives Zuko a look of betrayal, of anger, but Zuko can see the hurt that lies beneath it.

“Goodbye, Jet,” Zuko says softly, and something in his heart hurts, too. There’s a significant part of him that wishes it didn’t have to be this way. But it does. If Zuko is going to fully move on from the mistakes of his past, it does.

“Goodbye, Zuko,” Jet replies grimly. Then he turns around and runs swiftly out of the alley, seemingly unfazed as the blood from his cuts starts to run down his arm. He doesn’t look back.

The boy breathes a sigh of relief. “Wow,” he says as he processes everything that just happened. “Thanks, dude. Zuko’s your name, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Zuko says, suddenly feeling his boldness leave him as he looks this guy over more carefully. He’s probably around the same age as Zuko, but a little shorter and lankier, with deep blue eyes and a pretty face.

The boy seems to notice the way Zuko is looking at him (Zuko’s never been good at hiding his feelings), and he smirks knowingly, but not maliciously. “I’m Sokka,” he says smoothly, his eyes twinkling playfully.

“Sokka,” Zuko repeats as Sokka heads over to where his own sword has been lying on the ground. He picks it up and casually wipes the dirt off of it. As Zuko watches him, an opportunity for conversation strikes him. “Why’s your blade so dark?” he asks.

Sokka smiles proudly. “It’s made out of the rock from a meteorite that landed out in the woods recently.”

“I...wow,” Zuko says in genuine fascination, staring at the dark gray sword as Sokka returns it to its sheath.

Sokka stares at Zuko for a second or two, looking like he’s considering something. “Do you, um,” he says slowly, clearing his throat, “have a place to stay for the rest of the night?”

Zuko shrugs without saying anything. He could probably find a cheap hotel or a nice spot on the street to sleep on like he used to, but the truth is that, once again, he doesn’t have any reliable place to stay.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Sokka says firmly. “You could stay with us for the night, if you want.”

Zuko raises his eyebrow. “Who’s ‘us?’”

“My sister and our two friends and I,” Sokka replies casually. “We all share an apartment not too far from here.”

“Oh, uh,” Zuko stutters, somewhat flustered at the offer. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

Sokka waves his hand nonchalantly. “Nah, you’ll be fine,” he says, already starting to walk away. He glances back over his shoulder, as if expecting Zuko to follow him. “Well? I’m sure you’d rather sleep in a warm bed than on the damn ground, and I doubt your boyfriend’ll let you back into his place.”

That catches Zuko completely off guard, and he rushes to catch up with Sokka. “H-hey, how did you—?”

Sokka shrugs, that teasing, knowing grin back on his face with no sign of disappearing anytime soon. “Call it a hunch,” he says. “That fight definitely felt like a lovers’ spat to me.” He doesn’t mention Zuko checking him out, but it hangs in the air between them, unspoken. Sokka knows that Zuko thinks he’s attractive, and Zuko knows that Sokka knows.

After a few moments of near-silence, with the only sound being the sound of their footprints as Sokka leads Zuko to his apartment, Zuko asks, “So, what made you decide to take a walk in the middle of the night, anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sokka replies. “I had a weird dream where food started eating people.”

Zuko snorts; he can’t help it. “Talk about revenge.”

“I know!” Sokka says, his voice going up an octave, throwing his hands up in the air. “But anyway, usually eating helps me when I wake up in the middle of the night, but obviously I wasn’t gonna do that this time. So I thought I’d take a little night walk instead.”

“If you were just taking a walk, then why’d you bring your sword with you?”

Sokka just laughs at that, short and sharp. “In case I got attacked.”

Zuko laughs a little, too, something he doesn’t do very often—he didn’t even laugh all that much when he was with Jet, and yet Sokka’s gotten him to laugh within half an hour of knowing him. That’s impressive, to say the least. “Well,” he says, “it looks like it didn’t help you out that much anyway.”

“He caught me off guard, okay?” Sokka insists, but he’s still smiling. “The guy’s stealthy. I admit it. But if I’d had my boomerang, too, he would’ve been in for it, I’m tellin’ ya.”

When they reach the apartment, Sokka lowers his voice and warns Zuko to be quiet, since everyone else is likely still asleep. Zuko can’t make out much in the darkness, but the apartment has a similar layout to Jet’s, though it doesn’t have as many rare or expensive items obtained under suspicious circumstances. Most of the things that Zuko sees are things he’d expect to see in most people’s homes—rags to clean with, some pots and pans, a few articles of clothing strewn across the floor. So far, the most remarkable possession he’s seen of theirs has been Sokka’s “space sword,” as he calls it.

“So, uh, we’ve got two beds,” Sokka whispers, “for four people, but Toph always sleeps on the floor.” He gestures to a dark shape on the floor of the main room that must be Toph. “Aang and Katara usually share the one bed because both refuse to share one with me.” He points toward the open door that leads into a small bedroom area. The other bed, decently-sized, rests near the corner of the main room, which also consists of a small living area and a kitchen.

Zuko raises his eyebrow. “Why don’t they want to share with you?”

Sokka smiles sheepishly, looking embarrassed but trying to hide it. “I just toss and turn a lot. And sometimes I accidentally steal the blankets.” He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “So, um...I can, uh, sleep on the floor,” he says slowly, “if...you’d be uncomfortable...you know.” Even in the darkness, Zuko can see a blush on Sokka’s cheeks.

Zuko shrugs. He genuinely doesn’t care if he sleeps in the same bed as Sokka; at least it’s a bed, and he’s slept in much stranger places with much stranger people. (And there’s also the fact that Sokka is very attractive, and Zuko would be completely fine with sharing his warmth. But that doesn’t influence his decision at all, of course not; that would be ridiculous.) “I don’t mind,” he says out loud. “Really. It’ll be fine.”

Sokka sort of smiles at that, seeming almost relieved. “Okay,” he says, making his way over to the bed. He takes his shoes off and leans them up against the wall, then pulls the sheath of his sword off his shoulder and rests it on the floor next to the bed. He lets his hair out of its ponytail and rests the tie on the nightstand, then climbs into the bed. The covers are already somewhat messy, but only on Sokka’s side.

Zuko takes his own shoes off and rests the sheath of his swords on the floor next to the bed like Sokka did. Then he awkwardly crawls under the blanket, trying to be calm and fucking normal instead of thinking about how pretty Sokka is and how close they are. He can’t blow this.

“What’ll your friends think when they wake up and see a stranger sleeping in your bed?” he asks as the thought hits him.

“My sister might freak out a little, but other than that, it should be fine once I explain what happened. Don’t worry,” Sokka replies calmly.

Zuko rolls onto his side so that his back is facing Sokka. As he’s lying there, it finally hits him, just how much everything has changed in so little time. He broke up with Jet, and he’ll be on his own again, and he’s sleeping in the bed of some guy he just met, and everything is weird, and yet it doesn’t feel bad. He thinks he might even be okay with it.

After only a few minutes, Sokka whispers, his voice barely audible, “Zuko.”

Zuko rolls over to see Sokka sitting up, looking contemplative. “Yeah?”

“I have a question,” Sokka says quietly, “and you don’t have to answer it, but I was just wondering.”

Zuko takes a deep breath. Here it comes, the inevitable question, the question everyone asks soon enough after meeting him: the scar question.

But what comes out of Sokka’s mouth isn’t what Zuko expects. Instead, Sokka asks, “What did you mean when you said to Jet—that was his name, right?—when you said he was confused like you used to be? When you said maybe he’d learn like you had to?”

Zuko sighs in relief. Strangely enough, it feels easier to him to answer this question than it does to answer the scar question. Maybe it’s because he’s made peace with his past, with his mistakes. But he still hasn’t made peace with his family’s brutal deaths, especially his mother’s; he was closest to her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever make peace with it.

Zuko sits up on his elbows. “After I...became homeless, I did a lot of things that I regret. Things like what Jet was doing. I was angry at the world, and sometimes I think I still am. I don’t rely on it anymore, but I did then. I stole food from people who were starving because I didn’t care. I thought that I was better than them, that I deserved food more than they did. I got into fights with anyone who so much as looked at me the wrong way. A lot of them were kids or teenagers. One was probably around ten or eleven, and I think I was fourteen.” He sighs, remembering all the bloody noses, bruises, deep cuts, and broken bones he’s given people over the last few years.

“It got worse before it got better, especially after I got my swords. I mugged poor, innocent people. You would’ve wondered why I never got an apartment or anything, what with all the money I stole, not to mention the odd jobs I worked sometimes. I think it was because I didn’t want to stay in the same place. I liked running around with nowhere to be and everywhere to go, and besides, it would’ve been easier for other people to trace me if I stayed in one place, instead of committing a crime and then disappearing. I think I must’ve slept in every hotel in the city, except the really high-end ones.”

Sokka watches and listens, not judging, at least not openly. His gaze is intent and sincere. “What changed?” he says softly. “What made you stop?”

Zuko sits up more, leaning the pillow up against the wall and then resting his back against it. “It happened not too long after I turned fifteen. One evening there was this awful fire in another section of the city that destroyed several houses, and that night, across the street from where the fire had been, I saw this little kid sitting on the curb, all curled up into a ball and crying. He was maybe eight or nine. I remember not wanting to care. I remember just wanting to walk away and forget about it, because it wasn’t my problem. But I had a bad feeling about why he was crying, so I went over to him.” He closes his eyes briefly, imagining it, remembering every detail.

“He didn’t notice me at first, and I didn’t know what to say, so I just kind of sat down next to him, and that’s when he looked up at me. He asked me what I was doing, and I honestly didn’t really know, so I told him that I saw him crying and felt like I couldn’t just leave him there, which was the truth. When I looked at him closer, I realized he was partially covered in soot with a couple of small burns. He told me that his parents hadn’t made it out of the fire, that his home and his family were all gone and he didn’t know what to do. That was the first time in a long time that I’d felt sympathy for anyone. I saw myself in this kid, and I realized then that I didn’t want him to grow up hating the world and everyone in it. So I turned to him, looked him right in the eye, and told him to promise me he would never hurt someone for no reason. I remember how confused he was, because to him, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the fire. I explained to him that when you go through something hard, sometimes it makes you bitter and angry, and I told him that I didn’t want that to happen to him. So he nodded and said that he promised, and then I gave him a bunch of money that I’d stolen the night before, and I told him to find someone that would help him, like a neighbor or an uncle or a family friend or something. He said he’d try and ran away, and then I sat down on the curb where he’d been sitting and thought about everything I’d done.

“It was hard to go through all those victims and put myself in their situations, but I did it. It was like seeing that kid had opened the floodgates and made me able to care about people again. Up until then, I think I’d locked my heart up. I never allowed myself to feel anything other than hatred and anger, because anything else made me weak.”

There’s a stretch of silence after Zuko finishes as Sokka seems to process everything. Then he says, gently, his eyes soft, “Is that what happened to you? With the fire?”

Zuko bites his lip as he remembers hearing something burning, as he remembers looking through the little window in one of the doors with his left eye just seconds before the explosion. He doesn’t look at Sokka when he says it. “Something very similar. Yeah.”

“I...I’m sorry,” Sokka says, sounding genuine. “Katara and I lost our mother six years ago.” He reaches his hand out tentatively, his gaze filled not with pity but with understanding. Normally, Zuko would shy away. Normally, the scar is off-limits. But this is far from normal.

Sokka pauses right before his hand reaches Zuko’s face, as if silently asking permission. Zuko nods. “You can touch it.”

Sokka moves closer to Zuko and rests his hand on Zuko’s cheek, his fingers feeling the burned flesh. They’re so close now, only inches away, and all Zuko has to do is lean forward and bridge the gap.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, his hand never moving, “I don’t know what exactly it is about you, but I feel...close to you for some reason. Even when I first saw you fight with Jet, I was drawn to you.”

Zuko’s heart starts to beat faster. “I, uh, I could say the same to you.”

And then they’re kissing.

It’s soft and slow, gentle and tender, Sokka’s fingers lightly brushing against Zuko’s skin. Zuko drapes his arms over Sokka’s shoulders, sighing when Sokka runs his tongue across Zuko’s bottom lip. It’s bliss, but not an energized, ecstatic bliss, like the way kissing Jet felt like. It’s more of a glowing sort of bliss, a tranquil and safe sort of bliss, warm but not scorching. Whereas kissing Jet felt like fireworks, hot and wild but short-lived, kissing Sokka feels like a hearth—like coming home.

When they break away, both of them mildly out of breath, Sokka kind of laughs and says, “Well, now I know I wasn’t misreading the signals or anything.”

He’s referring to Zuko checking him out, and Zuko’s face heats up a little. “Well, yeah, I guess I’ve never really been the best at subtlety.”

Sokka just smiles and says, “Would it be okay if I...saw you again sometime?”

Now Zuko’s definitely blushing. “I, uh, yeah,” he stutters. “Of course.”

Across the room, an annoyed voice groans, “Great performance, lovebirds; now will you please go to sleep?”

Sokka and Zuko both jump. Zuko doesn’t think he’s ever been more embarrassed in his life. One of Sokka’s friends—the one who sleeps on the floor, Toph, if he remembers correctly—is awake. He doesn’t know how much she’s heard, but apparently, she’s heard enough.

“Toph!” Sokka hisses. “Way to ruin the moment!”

“Way to ruin my sleep,” Toph retorts. “Your gross kissing noises interrupted my dream. This guy better be cute.”

“I—he is!” Sokka says, his voice cracking, also clearly embarrassed. Zuko tries not to smile (and fails miserably).

“I don’t trust your opinion,” Toph replies bluntly. “I’ll ask Katara in the morning.”

Zuko looks over at Sokka quizzically. “Can’t she just decide for herself?” he whispers.

“She’s blind,” Sokka explains. “She has no idea if you’re cute or not.”

“Guys, what’s going on?” another unfamiliar voice asks. Someone steps out from the other bedroom into the main room and turns a nearby lamp on: a girl who looks a lot like Sokka, but a little bit younger—his sister, most likely. “Sokka, who’s—?”

“Sokka’s new boyfriend,” Toph interrupts from her place on the floor.

“He’s not my—we just met!” Sokka sputters, blushing.

“Yeah, but that didn’t stop either of you from pouring your hearts out to each other. And then making out.”

“We were not making out!” Sokka insists, his voice going up an octave again; Zuko thinks it’s cute. “My tongue and Zuko’s tongue didn’t meet once!”

Another person steps out of the bedroom and into the main room, a younger boy with black hair. He rubs his eyes. “Okay, guys, you know I’d prefer it if we didn’t argue at all, but if we have to, can’t we do it after sunrise?” Then he glances over at the bed and, noticing Zuko, raises an eyebrow. “Um, Sokka, I’m not judging or anything, but why is there a random guy with a scar in your bed?”

“Can we please just discuss this in the morning?” Sokka groans. “This guy saved me from his ex-boyfriend who was trying to mug me and he needed a place to stay so I told him he could sleep here for the night. And I’m probably gonna keep hanging out with him, so be nice.”

“Katara, I want your honest opinion,” Toph says to the other girl. “Is this guy cute?”

Katara seems to think for a moment, and Zuko tries to hide his self-consciousness. Finally, she says, “Um, yeah, actually, he’s not bad-looking.”

“Great. That’s all I needed to know,” Toph says. “Now can we all please go back to sleep?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” the boy—Aang—says, turning around and heading back into the bedroom. After giving Sokka a skeptical look, Katara turns the light back off and follows Aang.

“I’m sorry for them,” Sokka says immediately. “They’re nice, I swear, but they don’t know you and it’s the middle of the night and they’re cranky.”

“I can still hear you, you know,” Toph grumbles.

Sokka ignores her. “Anyway, um, we should...probably get some rest,” he says slowly. “It’s been a long night. I can give you a proper introduction in the morning.”

Zuko just smiles a little and lies back down; this time, though, he’s turned toward Sokka, not away from him. “You know,” he says, “you and your friends...almost feel like a family of sorts.”

Sokka shrugs, but he’s smiling, too. “We are.”

Zuko hasn’t had a family in so long.

“Maybe one day,” Sokka says, his voice soft, “you can be a part of it, too.”

That night, Zuko sleeps better than he has in a long time, probably since before his family died. He revels in the feeling of Sokka’s warm body next to his. When he was with Jet, it felt good. But when he’s with Sokka, it feels right, like finding something that he thought he’d lost forever.

Like coming home.

#avatar: the last airbender #atla #zuko #sokka #zukka #my fics #i wanna write more zukka aaaaa i miss them

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gorehound666 · 5 years ago

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Today I feel like talking about something from my dark past. This is my most popular video I have ever posted on youtube. People still both watch and comment on it. It's not even that good. I usually forget that it exists until I get a notification that someone commented on it. And honestly, I usually get a good laugh out of reading the comments. They are a mixture of good and bad, of course. Some nice comments sprinkled with some homophobic ones, and some that I can't tell if they're hating or not.

Example

Some nice comments, obviously from shippers.

Can't tell whether or not they're hating. I think they dislike the video.

And then some that I am 99% sure are hating/homophobic/sexist?

Now what I want to point out real quick is that I made this, as well as all my other fandom/tribute videos, for fun. It is not meant to be taken seriously. I found a song that I thought fit a specific character(s) and put them together in a shitty video because I could. I am still baffled at how much attention this thing is getting. This amongst such gems as my "Laughing Jack - Candy Shop" and "Dio in the Club" videos. Why is anyone taking this seriously, let alone taking time out of their day to comment homophobic shit on it? Do these people have nothing better to do? I mean, I'm literally making this post because I have nothing better to do right now. Also there's the fact that these are fictional characters, why is anyone getting so defensive over them? I don't even reply to these comments anymore, the most I do is like them, I have even liked one or two of the hate comments because they made me laugh so hard.

I do want to address some of the hate comments though. You're welcome for the attention homophobes, no need to thank me. Starting with the first comment in the screenshot, "bastardization of the author's original work", how? Last time I checked, everything in the video was fanart, the artists that I knew I gave credit to in the description, none of it was stuff from the actual book (other than the characters obviously). I did not take any sort of writing from The Silmarillion and edit it, or claim it as my own, or any of that. I did not technically use any of Tolkien's original work. I also do not see how I disrespected the original art (if anyone see's how I may have, please tell me), I gave credit to the artists and the artwork is literally showing them as in a relationship, I just compiled the artwork and put a song over it and called it "Melkor x Mairon".

Responding to the next comment, I don't see how I ruined the characters, if one video is all it takes for them to be ruined then I don't think you liked them very much to begin with. Also, you have no proof that there weren't gays in Middle Earth. None of the books ever said that there wasn't, plus the books are meant as fictional world history books. Tolkien literally based them on world history, and last time I checked there has been homosexuality around since the dawn of humanity.

My response to the third one is going to be short and sweet, as most of what I'm about to write is common sense. Sauron is commonly depicted with long hair, a lot of men have long hair, especially in Middle Earth if you haven't noticed, and does not make him female. Also, Melkor is shown with long hair, yet you didn't include him in your comment. Hmm🤔. Also, I am a feminist, thank you.

The last one I'm not going to bother addressing, for what I hope are obvious reasons, but I do want to address a comment that I didn't include in the screenshots: "Tolkien would be pissed". Somehow, I doubt that? Once again it is a video of fictional characters that is not meant to be taken seriously. Also, as a reader and a fan, we are allowed to read into the book however we so choose, most stories are about 50% reader afterall. And as a writer myself, I would not be pissed at how someone decided to interpret my story or characters, in fact I would feel honoured that someone took time out of their day to make fanart and fan videos for something that I made. Afterall, these things are not made out of maliciouness, they are made by people who want to show how much they love a story or character(s).

I'm going to end this here, as it's getting way too long. I apologize for this turning into a bit of a rant, but homophobia of any kind, directed at fictional characters or not, pisses me off. I also just want to say a quick thank you to those who have liked the video, I really do appreciate it. I never thought for a second that any of my videos would get as many views or comments as this one has, and I am grateful for all the positive attention it has gotten.

#j r r tolkien #the silmarillion #melkor #mairon #rant #homophobia #long post #youtube

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the-cookie-of-doom · 5 years ago

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“B-b-b-but interacting with Scoot McSchmuck made Derek improve and grow as a person! Derek is a better person because of Scoot McSchmuck, really!!!!”

https://princeescaluswords.tumblr.com/post/185677939080/its-funny-that-its-explicitly-canon-that

RUSSIANSPACEGECKOSEXPARTY: It’s funny that it’s explicitly canon that interacting with Scott McCall was what ultimately made Derek improve and grow as a person. But fanon interpretation has it be Manic Pixie Dream Boy!Stiles who helps the emotionally constipated but Good Alpha grow. Ignoring that Stiles just doesn’t have that kind of relationship with Derek, no he didn’t spend summer Sculder and Mullying with him, no he wasn’t a shoulder to cry on for him. Scott worked with Derek and had his trust eventually

PRINCEESCALUSWORDS:

Shhhhh. You’re getting in the way of the fantasy!

I began to comprehend a lot more of the impetus behind Sterek when I realized that Stiles as a character is much more relatable as a power fantasy than Scott will ever be for a lot of the fandom and the source of much of their dissatisfaction with the plot. Stiles is a power fantasy – the idea that you can be liked, loved even, without having to practice or develop empathy or maturity. From season one to season five, the hallmarks of Stiles’ behavior is always a sense of entitlement to other people’s affections and, more sinisterly, their obedience.

Stiles loves people – that’s undeniable – but with him that devotion always crosses into possession. With his father, with Scott, with Lydia, and with Malia; from the first episode (”Have you been listening to my phone calls?” “Not the boring ones!”) to the last episode (“Okay, not too close. Watch the, uh… Watch the hands. Okay. Okay, all right, let’s just break that up.”), Stiles represents the fantasy that love means never having to check your worst impulses. Stiles can lie to, manipulate, emotionally lash out at, and physically assault the people he loves and they just keep on coming back for more!

This is why in many Sterek writings, Stiles is nearly unidentifiable except for the name. Gone is the Stiles who was willing to let the Argents kill Derek and Peter so long as Scott (and his father, and Lydia) was safe in Formality. Gone is the Stiles who urged Allison to shoot Derek in the head in Venomous. Gone is the Stiles who didn’t give two shits that Derek was dead in Frayed. Gone is the Stiles who noted that Derek was losing his powers in Orphaned and did nothing about it.

Of course, the question is why wouldn’t the production make Derek one of Stiles’ loved ones? The answer, of course, is that Derek wouldn’t tolerate Stiles’ possession of him. It wasn’t banter when Derek bounced Stiles’ head off the steering wheel – Stiles crossed his boundaries and Derek wasn’t having it. “You know what you did!”

That doesn’t mean there wasn’t a friendship between them. There was. But it wasn’t going to be the relationship that encouraged Derek to change and grow, because Stiles’ behavior was exactly comprised of his worst impulse, which Derek had grown to expect. It was Scott’s faith in other people’s ability to change, his acting on that belief without being a pushover, that showed Derek he too could learn to trust people. It’s why Derek – much to many fan’s chagrin – came back for Scott.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“a sense of entitlement to other people’s affections and, more sinisterly, their obedience… represents the power fantasy that you can be liked, loved even, without having to practice or develop empathy or maturity and that love and devotion that love means possession… can lie to, manipulate, emotionally lash out at, and physically assault the people he loves and demand they keep on coming back for more” That’s literally canon Scott McCall in a nutshell, PEW!

But then again, apparently antis despise canon Scott McCall so fucking much that they feel the need to transplant Scott’s canon characterization, hypocrisy, opportunism, and black-and-white mentality onto other characters now, because take a look at this brand new delusion right here https://princeescaluswords.tumblr.com/post/185653894015/stans-harp-on-black-and-white-mentality-yet

RUSSIANSPACEGECKOSEXPARTY: Stans harp on “black and white mentality” yet… that has never been Scott. Not really? He has an amazing capacity to forgive. But if you wanna get technical, Stiles himself fills the “black and white mentality” more but we know that “the world is gray” folks just want Stiles to freely get away with murder and such. But had Scott ever killed someone like Stiles suggested, he’d be crucified

PEW: Thank you for bringing up with this is very illustrative point! “Black-and-white thinking” or “splitting” is defined as when you see everything in terms of labels. According to Andi Chrisman’s article “Splitting is the inability to see the dichotomy of both positive and negative aspects of our thoughts, usually associated with how we think about people. Everything is either all good or all bad – there is no middle ground. All of my thoughts are polarized. My life is either absolutely terrible or completely amazing, but nowhere in between… “

We do not see this in Scott’s emotions or Scott’s behavior. Scott is noted for his optimism, his ability to see the good in people, and his dedication to saving people’s lives. Yet, every season, he recognizes the gray areas that he exists in. Yes, he recognizes that being bitten by a werewolf lets him play first line and helped him win a relationship with Allison, but he also recognizes the dangers of its bloodlust and its susceptibility to domination by the alpha. Yes, he recognizes that asshole Jackson is killing people, but he sees the situation that created this behavior and that Jackson isn’t a willing participant. He’s able to see the potential for good in his enemies (like Derek in Formality, Chris Argent in Fireflies, Ethan in The Girl Who Knew Too Much, Deucalion in Lunar Ellipse, Kincaid in Echo House, Sean in Muted, Peter! in Parasomnia, etc.) He’s able to foresee his own plans failing and be able to bend or even break the rules in the service of a greater cause (in Chaos Rising, in Master Plan, in Lunatic, in Illuminated, in Orphaned).

None of these exhibit black-and-white thinking. Holding people to a standard is not black-and-white thinking, especially when he’s willing to give people second chances if they mess up.

Then why do people think he does? Because a white villain told them so! The only mention of black-and-white thinking as a character flaw for Scott is mentioned in Fireflies by that paragon of not-trying-to-manipulate-anyone-by-my-words, Peter Hale, when he’s busy trying to convince Derek to let Boyd and Cora murder people or to kill them himself. Peter said it, and it became neo-Biblical truth to a large part of the fandom! Which leads back to my point that I repeatedly strike – the actions and opinions of white characters are always going to be given more weight and validity than characters of color (until the community does something about it). The fandom knows that Peter will say or do anything to get what he wants. The production had scene after scene of Peter manipulating people that way; look at that scene in Alpha Pact, where Peter becomes the Iago-est Iago to ever manipulate Derek.

What they really mean when the fandom complains about Scott being a ‘black and white thinker’ is that he resisted resorting to killing as an expedient solution. He never rejected the possible necessity of killing (as seen in Code Breaker, Master Plan, Lunar Ellipse, Orphaned, Monstrous, and Apotheosis, etc.) but he refused to employ it for the sake of efficiency, and he refused to consider it for people who had been changed against their will (the chimeras, Boyd and Cora, Jackson). Yet this refusal isn’t greeted as evidence of compassion and principle, but stubbornness and stupidity. Why? I’m loathe to think that people want to see blood, but I feel it’s more likely that the characters pushing him to do so – Peter, Derek, Stiles, Deucalion, and Theo – have something in common.

****************************** “Splitting is the inability to see the dichotomy of both positive and negative aspects of our thoughts, usually associated with how we think about people. Everything is either all good or all bad – there is no middle ground. All of my thoughts are polarized. My life is either absolutely terrible or completely amazing, but nowhere in between… “ Again, this description fits canon Scott McCall just perfectly. Escalus is definitely right about one thing though: holding people to a specific standard you set for them and demanding they obey it while refusing to hold yourself to that same standard is not black-and-white thinking. It’s entitlement and dictatorship.

Also, I think it’s hilarious that so-called canon purist PEW would claim that Scott refuses to employ killing for the sake of efficiency and refuses to consider it for people who had been changed against their will when actual canon literally showed us that Scott’s more than willing to kill as long as he doesn’t lose his precious “True Alpha” status and only if it benefits him and only him; I also think it’s funny that PEW would try to use Josh and Tracy as evidence of Scott’s nonexistent principles and compassion despite the fact that Scott actively plotted and conspired with the likes of Deucalion (aka Boyd and Erica’s murderer) behind everyone’s back just to murder a bunch of scared, traumatized, mutilated chimera kids he had referred to as “innocent victims” in the previous episodes.

But of course delusionals would try to justify Scott’s own canonical shitty actions, hypocrisy, opportunism, and black-and-white mentality by screeching that Peter Hale is a villain therefore Peter having a vulgarly low opinion of Scott and actively mocking Scott for his lack of intelligence and black-and-white thinking throughout the whole show doesn’t really count [remember when they said that Scott’s totes an academically gifted student with perfect grades pre-bite and that Gerard’s just a lying liar who lies even though Gerard had Scott’s school records at hand?], or by blabbering that it was all someone else’s (usually Derek, Stiles and Peter’s ‘cause delusionals’ pathological jealousy and butthurt is transparent like that) fault for pushing/wanting poor little dumb as a box of Scotts Scoot to kill as an expedient solution, or some other self-fabricated blame shifting~victim blaming bullshit with no basis in canon like that, lol!

If canon erasure were an Olympicc sport, princeescaluswords & Scott McCall defense squad colleagues would win the gold medal. That’s for sure

Cookie: PEW definitely missed the ball with this one, yikes. “But fanon interpretation has it be Manic Pixie Dream Boy!Stiles who helps the emotionally constipated but Good Alpha grow.” I don’t like pulling this card, but hm, referring to the neurodivergent character as a “Manic Pixie Dream Boy” sure does leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyway.

PEW: From season one to season five, the hallmarks of Stiles’ behavior is always a sense of entitlement to other people’s affections and, more sinisterly, their obedience.

Hey PEW, you misspelled Scott McCall. When has Stiles EVER been entitled to someone’s affections? Was it when he hallucinated his girlfriend making out with another guy as his worst fear? Was it when he stalked her? Was it when he harassed her with pictures of them together after they had broken up, and then refused to accept that it was wrong when she was forced to leave class crying?

OHHHH, I”M SORRY. That wasn’t Stiles at all, my mistake. Yeah, no, Stiles has never been entitled to anyone’s affections, even when rightfully he should have been. (Scott practically abandoning him everytime he gets a new girlfriend, anyway?) If anything, he is afraid to accept it, and only does when he is in extremely emotional or distressing situations. (After his nightmare, when Melissa finds him sleepwalking, after they get the Nogitsune out of him, when he goes to the hospital because he has no idea what’s wrong with him.)

And obedience? Stiles has never been entitled to anyone’s obedience. You know who has, though? Scott! How about season 2, Derek is trying to build a pack for himself since Scott rejected him. (Y’know, that time Derek moved on and Scott couldn’t handle it, and neither could the stans, because everything has to be about him?) Scott tried to keep Boyd from accepting the bite. He didn’t know Boyd, sure as hell didn’t care about him; he was only trying to keep Derek from building a pack, and once he found out Boyd had already accepted the bite, bam, back to not caring. But okay, that was early in the show. He was still a stupid teenager. How about season 4, when he kidnapped a teenage boy, tied him up, and left him in the bathtub? How about when he shunned Stiles over Donovan instead of trying to talk to him and get his side of the story? How about when he forced Derek to bite Gerard, violating his agency for the sake of an Argent for the second time in his life? How about all those times he lied to Kira where her Kitsune was becoming stronger and uncontrollable, trying to make her listen to him without explaining to her what was happening, because her unconditional loyalty was more important than her wellbeing? What’s a better way to prove your love and loyalty than blind trust, after all. Oh, and perhaps the best one of all, now that I think about it: how about what he did to Isaac? You know, where he repeatedly throws Isaac into the wall for daring to want to be with Allison, who Scott has absolutely no claim over. But how dare his beta want to go after what Scott sees as his property.

Stiles doesn’t care about obedience. He wants people to do what he says, yes. When he comes up with a plan, when he’s trying to keep his friends safe, he wants them to do what they’re told so they don’t all get killed. But when things don’t go according to plan, when people exercise their free will, Stiles works around it. He doesn’t get irrationally angry for it. Because all Stiles cares about is keeping all of them together. First and foremost, he doesn’t want to lose his friends, his says as much in the first episode of season 5. And that is a hell of a lot different than believing he is entitled to anyone’s obedience.

PEW: Stiles loves people – that’s undeniable – but with him that devotion always crosses into possession. […] Stiles can lie to, manipulate, emotionally lash out at, and physically assault the people he loves and they just keep on coming back for more!

You’ve misspelled Scott again. Since I pretty much just covered this already: Allison, stalked, lied to, consistently tried to keep Isaac from being with her even after they broke up, refused to accept them breaking up when SHE was the one who did it, ignored her when she told him not to wait because she DIDN’T WANT HIM TO PUT THOSE EXPECTATIONS ON HER, I could honestly go on. Everything he did with Allison was disgusting. Kira: lied to, manipulated, endangered her and others because of his lack of ability to tell the truth. Stiles: lies to, manipulates, casts him aside when it’s convenient for him, but doesn’t hesitate to call when he needs him to fix one of Scott’s messes.

PEW is confusing Stiles’ well-founded issues with abandonement (His mother died, his father is a workaholic, and Scott drops him at the first sign of a short skirt) with posession. Stiles doesn’t want to possess people. He clings to them. He doesn’t want to be ALONE. But he does not try to possess people; that implies a level of control he does not have or want.

Oh, and Stiles listening to his dad’s phone calls? I’m sorry, 1, how is that possessive? His father is the sheriff of the town, listening in on his calls is the equivalent of listening to a police scanner, and Stiles is a stupid teenager. 2, even if he is posessive of his dad, literally so what? That is his DAD, I promise he’s not suffering from the situation, considering Stiles doesn’t try to control his schedule, keep him from dating, or ruin interpersonal relationships. (You know, that thing that ACTUALLY possessive people do.) Instead all we see is Stiles just trying to take care of his dad, because Stiles doesn’t want to lose him too.

PEW Gone is the Stiles who was willing to let the Argents kill Derek and Peter so long as Scott (and his father, and Lydia) was safe in Formality. Gone is the Stiles who urged Allison to shoot Derek in the head in Venomous. Gone is the Stiles who didn’t give two shits that Derek was dead in Frayed. Gone is the Stiles who noted that Derek was losing his powers in Orphaned and did nothing about it.

And where is the Scott that was willing to violate Derek’s agency so that he could be with Allison? Where is the Scott that replaced a cancer patient’s medicine with placebos, knowing that it would kill him wither way? Where is the Scott that lied to the police and told them Derek was the one who killed the janitor, instead of keeping his mouth shut? Where is the Scott that told Derek his family might have deserved to die horribly by burning to death? Where is the Scott that noticed Kira was losing control fo her powers, and neglected to tell her? (And instead talked to Theo about it, y’know, the random kid that just showed up out of nowhere.)

I completely forgot this part in my amazement of PEWS ability to project Scott’s bad behavior onto Stiles. “Ignoring that Stiles just doesn’t have that kind of relationship with Derek, […], no he wasn’t a shoulder to cry on for him.” And Scott was? Don’t answer that, it’s a rhetorical question. Of course Scott wasn’t. He had the emotional range of a teaspoon, and no empathy to speak of.

Meanwhile it was Stiles saving Derek’s life when he got shot, it was Stiles staying to comfort Derek when he was forced to kill Boyd (the only one, mind. And then Scott went to team up with Deucalion because he never cared about Boyd in the first place, so why would his death mean anything?), it was Stiles who Derek dreamed about when he needed guidance, do you see the recurring pattern here? Scott was not there for Derek during emotional moments. Stiles was. Scott was the Action Hero, and Stiles was the empathetic sidekick trying to comfort people whenever he could.

(God this is exhaustively long and I’m only halfway through, PEW needs to learn to be more concise.)

PEW: We do not see this in Scott’s emotions.

Lol we would have if Poesy could actually act.

PEW: He’s able to foresee his own plans failing and be able to bend or even break the rules in the service of a greater cause .

First off, Scott is blind as a bat and can’t foresee shit, which is why he always has to call Stiles when one of his ‘plans’ doesn’t work out. Second of all: so Scott is allowed to break the rules in service of a “greater [usually his own] cause” but Stiles isn’t?

PEW: None of these exhibit black-and-white thinking.

I can tell you exactly where the black-and-white thinking with Scott is right here: When Scott does it, good! When anyone else does it, baaaad.

PEW: I’m loathe to think that people want to see blood, but I feel it’s more likely that the characters pushing him to do so – Peter, Derek, Stiles, Deucalion, and Theo – have something in common.

Yup, the thing they have in common is that they’re all compelling characters portrayed by great actors!

Hoenstly, I would give more credence to PEWs hardon for imaginary racism in the fandom if he put as much effort into the other characters. Where is the outrage over Boyd being criminally underused and then killed off for Derek’s mainpain? What about for Kira being horribly sterotyped as a Japanese ninja when fighting, but a horrible Klutz everywhere else like she came right of a harem anime? Or Mason being LITERALLY turned into a monster, because there is nothing at all problematic about that.

Of ocurse, I’m SURE PEW would just say that they don’t matter because they’re just SIDE CHARACTERS, not the main. To which I say: either their is racism or their isn’t, the size of the role doesn’t matter.

As we all know, PEW doesn’t actually care about racism, or sexism, or any other -ism or -phobia that may or may not be present in fandom. (I personally have yet to see any of these on a fandom-wide scale) All he cares about is that his personal fave isn’t liked enough. And I have to say, his ranting and raving sure doesn’t make anyone like him more.

#cookie speaks #fandom discourse #ia ctually had no problem with Scott before the anti's #I thought he was just a p generic character #but now??#submission #edit: forgot to add the read more #sorry guys #fixed it

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haveyouseenmymind · 6 years ago

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A first pawesome meeting

This fic is my first contribution for the amazing @goingknowherewastaken’s DivineMeAMasterpieceChallenge (and also honorable mention to her assistant @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets :D)!

My interpretion of the Tarot card I chose for this challenge can be found under the cut.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Pairing: McKirk

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Words: 1747

Prompt: Hey I just moved into the house next door and I just wanted to let you know that your dog keeps getting into my yard an - wait what? What do you mean that’s a cat????? That’s not a cat it’s fucking huge!!!! (turns out it is a cat, it’s just really big and fat)

Leonard’s first meeting with his new neighbor doesn’t go exactly as expected.

My interpretation:

The card I chose for my story was the Fool, and I only used the meaning for the upright position (beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, and a free spirit) for this fic, cause it didn’t feel right to include the reversed one (holding back, recklessness and risk-taking) into the situation of the story. I mainly concentrated on the meaning of new beginnings, though I hope the story fits the card with more than just that.

The way I see it, the card doesn’t describe just Leonard’s or just Jim’s situation here. Sure, for Leonard there’s a new beginning as he tries to start over in a new town, but in my eyes it’s a new beginning for Jim, too. He meets his new neighbor, and as he says it himself at the end, it’s the beginning of a new friendship (and probably so much more ;D). They are both connected due to Jim’s cat, through which they get to know other. And lets be honest, isn’t a free spirit the most fitting description ever for a cat? ;)

(Also, I’m sorry for the shitty explaining of my interpretation, but somehow my brain just stopped working.)

+++

Leonard glared at the still unpacked boxes that were scattered all over his living room, but of course they didn’t disappear. It was late afternoon, the sun would go down soon and he was nowhere near done with his work, but he was too tired to go through the rest of the boxes, as it had taken him nearly all day to clear the bedroom where the chaos had been even worse.

He really hated all the work that came with moving, taking hours for finding the right places for your belongings or dragging wrong labeled boxes from room to room, until you finally found out where they actually belonged to.

And not to forget the horror of having to clear that one box containing all the knick-knacks that landed in there during hasted packing sessions, never knowing where to put them until you finally gave up and just threw them into the next best drawer.

At least for now his bed was ready, and so he was spared of having to sleep on the ground, which would have ended for him with a sleepless night. Experience had told him that he was far too old to deal with that.

Hopefully, all the trouble of leaving his old life and getting a fresh new start would be worth it. He had found a good job at a nice little clinic in a not too small town, where you knew your neighbors, but still had at least some privacy.

And even though his decision to move here had been a bit too rushed for his own taste, he had been able to find a nice cosy house in a rather secluded street at the end of town, which lessened the chances of being surrounded by nosy people.

Of course he knew that he couldn’t avoid his neighbors forever, but so far his peace hadn’t been disturbed, which he had been more than grateful for. Though he’d definitely go and introduce himself, as soon as things would have calmed down a bit.

It probably would have been for the best to get over with it as soon as possible, before people would start talking behind his back and write him off as an unsocial bastard, which, if he was completely honest, he was to a certain degree.

However, he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of his neighbors before he had even gotten to know any of them. Maybe he’d start this weekend with whoever lived right next to him.

After a while of losing himself in his thoughts, he finally decided to call it a day. Satisfied with his work so far, he really deserved a break, and so he poured himself a drink, took it outside and sat down on the porch to enjoy the rest of the evening.

His gaze wandered all over the yard, as he moved the glass towards his lips, but he put it back down immediately, when suddenly he spotted something far in the back.

He squeezed his eyes together, trying to find out what it was, but all he could make out was something huge and dark slowly moving around, and Leonard guessed by its size that it had to be the neighbor’s dog.

He frowned and realized, after watching the animal for a while, that the dog seemed to feel completely at home. Apparently this wasn’t the first time he had escaped his owner and enjoyed a nice little stroll around Leonard’s yard.

So after all, the time to get to know his neighbor had come sooner than expected, and though he contemplated what to do next for a minute or so, he knew there was no way around informing the owner that their dog had escaped its own home.

He definitely wouldn’t try to catch the animal on his own, that wasn’t his responsibility. There was no reason why this should be Leonard’s problem if his neighbor couldn’t take care of their own pet properly.

And so he got up, his glass of bourbon completely forgotten for the moment, and headed for his neighbor’s house.

+++

When he rang the doorbell he was annoyed and frustrated about the situation, since this wasn’t how he had planned for his evening to end. If anyone had asked him, he would have stayed alone for the rest of the day and gone to bed early. But like so many times before no one gave a damn about his opinion, or that he would have preferred getting to know his neighbor another day when he felt ready to face other people again.

After a few minutes, Leonard heard someone stumble around from the inside, a loud crash and then footsteps coming closer to the door. Whoever was on the other side definitely hadn’t anticipated any visitors at all, and Leonard felt the tiniest slither of glee rise up in him, happy that his evening alone wouldn’t be the only one ruined.

He tried to prepare himself mentally for this first less than perfect meeting, but when the door opened abruptly, he found himself staring into the bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen, making him lose all of his words and thoughts at once.

He must have looked like a complete fool, standing there in front of the handsome blond man who eyed him with confusion, while this weird man just blinked at him, not saying a single word of what he wanted from him.

Leonard could feel how heat crept up his face, and inwardly he scolded himself for his strange behaviour. But thankfully, the blond began to smile at him, and even though Leonard could have sworn that his heart must have stopped for a few beats, he finally got himself back under control.

“Uhm, hi. I’m your new neighbor, Leonard McCoy.”

The other man’s smile became understanding, and Leonard found himself liking the sight a little bit too much.

“Oh hey! I wanted to come over and welcome you into the neighborhood myself, but life has been a bit crazy lately. I’m sure you can relate. But now that you’re here, why don’t you come in for a beer? I’m Jim by the way.”

Leonard was a bit overwhelmed with Jim waiting patiently for him to decide what he wanted to do, as he blinked at him innocently, making him feel more and more uncomfortable.

“Uhm, that’s very nice of you, but actually I’m here to talk about your dog.”

“My… my dog?”

Jim’s hopeful expression changed back to the confusion he had greeted Leonard with, and the doctor had the feeling that he was missing out on some important information. Maybe the dog didn’t belong to Jim?

He probably should have shut up straightaway, turned around and headed back for his own house and just forgotten that this evening happened, but unfortunately he had to open his mouth again.

“Yeah. Please keep him restricted to your own yard. I’m not saying to hold him him on a leash all day long, but I really don’t want him to dig his way through my garden and bury his bones or whatever else he’s doing over there.”

The longer Leonard talked, the bigger Jim’s grin became, worsening Leonard’s frustration instantly. Why did he have to leave his house today? Just to get made fun of by his stupid neighbor? Who, as he had to admit to his own annoyance, was quite attractive?

“What’s so damn funny kid? Is this simple request beneath your dignity, or what’s your problem?”

But Jim didn’t answer immediately, instead he just looked at Leonard apologetically, and the brunet felt a bit bad for his harsh words.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t own a dog.”

“But… If it’s not yours, do you know who else around here owns a black dog that’s straying through strange yards?”

“Actually none of the other neighbors own a black dog. But I think I know what you mean, you probably just saw Mr. Pawsome. He sometimes gets mistaken for a dog.”

Leonard blinked at Jim, cause he clearly must have misheard what the other man just said.

“Mr. What???”

“Mr. Pawsome. He’s my cat.”

“A cat? What do you mean that’s a cat? That’s not a cat it’s fucking huge!”

Jim laughed at that, and Leonard felt like an idiot again. There was no way that Jim was serious, a cat surely couldn’t have the size of a dog.

And just when he thought of going back to his own house, leaving Jim without another word and if he should ever talk to him again, something came around the corner. Leonard stared at it, and indeed, it was a huge large cat, with long black fur and as big as a dog.

The cat walked up to them, moved around Jim’s legs and butted its head against them, before it sat down in front of his owner, looking up and watching the stranger with big calculating eyes.

Leonard, who couldn’t believe what he saw, stared first at the cat, then Jim and finally the cat again.

“That’s a cat. How is that a fucking cat?”

Jim, who finally had his laughing back under control, looked at his overwhelmed neighbor with sympathy.

“He’s a Maine Coon, it’s normal for them to be this huge. They are one of the biggest cat breeds, so don’t worry. You’re not the first one to confuse him for a dog. So, now that this has been cleared, what about the beer I offered?”

Leonard threw one last wary glance down at the fuzzy feline, before he finally accepted the situation. Jim seemed to be a nice enough guy, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have another friend in this town.

“Why not. But keep that monster of a cat away from me, I’m not keen on getting suffocated by it.”

Jim leaned down, scratched his cat, who began to purr loudly as soon as he got petted, under the chin.

“Don’t take him serious, Paws. He’ll love you once he gets to know you.”

Leonard snorted, but couldn’t hold back the little smirk that appeared on his face, which was answered by Jim with another big beaming smile, and Leonard asked himself if the other man ever stopped smiling. Jim meanwhile stood back up, and stepped aside for Leonard to get inside of his house.

“Come in Bones, I bet this is going to be the beginning of an epic friendship.”

tags (Strikeouts I can’t tag) : @thevalesofanduin @medicatemedrmccoy @toosouthernforspace @reading-in-moonlight @feelmyroarrrr @0dannyphantom0 @eyeofdionysus @bsotstory @neon-green-bra @loststarlight @imoutofmyvulcanmind @fireboltrose5737 @ree923 @str8-jack-it @flaminglupine @captainsbabysitter-blog

McKirk: @mishacolyte @joannaleemccoy

Star Trek: @theartofeheheh @samleerandom

#DivineMeAMasterpieceChallenge #star trek aos #mckirk #james t. kirk x leonard mccoy #james t. kirk #leonard mccoy

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