#ok I was opposed to the whole pitch clock thing

[blue-da-ba-dee]

...

[seedlessmuffins]

hello beautiful people! i have decided to make this for anyone looking to get into a new sport, and here is my pitch your new sport should be hockey! i present to you; an intro to hockey (for footie fans)

*warning: this is long! very long! i would appreciate it if you read the whole thing, but you dont have to, mwah!*

the sport

ice hockey is a sport played by players on skates on a surface of ice. i will be referring to it as hockey from here on, because (and no offence to field hockey at all) ice hockey is the ultimate hockey and it would be blasphemous to refer to it otherwise! in hockey, there are two teams on the ice, and each player uses a stick (commonly made of carbon fiber, usually as tall as the player’s nose) to control a rubber puck to get it into the opposing team’s net. the ice is surrounded by boards (the white part covered in ads at the bottom) and the glass (the glass on top) and there is netting on top of the glass behind each net to prevent pucks from going into the stands

KEY POINTS

there are four positions in hockey: goalkeeper (goalie), defender (dman or simply d), winger (either left wing or right wing), and center 

defence and goalies perform basically the same role as in footie (and there is no equivalent of a midfielder), but along the attackers the roles are reversed. the center is usually the playmaker who can track back to defend and create plays, while most wingers are known as goal scorers. that said, because there are only 5 players on the ice at a time, there is no “pure goal scorer” or stiker equivalent because there simply is not space for one on a team, everyone needs to create and score. there are 4 lines of forwards and 3 lines of defense that rotate on and off the ice, with the best players on the top line or on the top d pair

games are 60 minutes with 3, 20 minute periods. in between each period is a 15 minute intermission in professional games. the clock stops every time the whistle is blown, so there is no such thing as injury/stoppage time (because we just… stop the time). players don’t play the whole game, they play in 30 second to 50 second shifts. the best forwards usually play between 18 and 23 minutes a night, top defenders play between 25 and 30 minutes a night. goalies are the only ones that play for a full 60

after every whistle, the game restarts with a faceoff, which is like a tip off in basketball. the two centers face eachother and the ref drops the puck in between them and the centers try and pass it backwards to their teammates

there are no such thing as ties! ever! they got rid of them in 2005. if teams are tied after 60 minutes, they go to a 5 minute, sudden death overtime. first to score wins and the game is over. if teams are still tied, they go to a shootout (basically penalty kicks)

equipment is worn by all players including a helmet, neck guard, shoulder, elbow, and shin pads, “pants” (basically thick shorts that protect the thighs”, gloves, and skates. also they have their sticks

the rules

there are a couple main rules of hockey, some which are the same as footie (offsides are equally hated in hockey). if you break these rules, there are four kinds of penalties that can be called. these penalties result in a skater going to the penalty box (the box) for a certain number of minutes, so the other team has one extra skater. this is known as a power play for the team with an extra skater, and for the team with a guy in the penalty box, it is known as a penalty kill. there isn’t really a build up of these penalties, like one guy can get 5 or 6 in a game and still be ok to play. the least amount of people that can be on the ice is 3, so the biggest advantage is 5 players on one team and 3 on the other. minor penalties end when time is up or the team on the powerplay scores (whichever comes first), and majors end when time is up even if the other team scores.

(naughty boys sit in the time out box)

types of penalties

two-minute minor: minor penalties and the player goes to the box for 2 minutes. examples are tripping (when you trip another person with your stick), elbowing (when you elbow someone), slashing (when you take your stick and slam it on someones wrists), roughing (a minor fight) or even diving 

four-minute double minor: this is just a bad minor where the person gets a minor injury, the best example is high sticking (where you hit someone in the face by lifting your stick over shoulder level), where you can get a double minor by making the other player bleed

five-minute majors: when an action results in an intentional injury, especially bleeding, or a fight (big fights, like ones that involve gear coming off and punching the other person’s head into the ice, is what gets a major). best example is cross checking to the head, which is when you use your stick to hit someone in the back of the head/neck to push them down to the ice (very fun)

game misconduct: ten minute penalties that get you kicked from the game. this does not result in a power play or penalty kill, you just get kicked out until 10 minutes is up. idrk this one, its pretty rare and so the refs usually just explain the circumstance

penalty shot: exactly like a penalty kick in soccer, it happens when a penalty occurs when the player is on a breakaway. this is very very rare

refs

depending on the ref, you can get away with a lot more or a lot less. theres a phrase called “putting the whistles away” which occurs in big games usually where refs don’t call penalties. refs also call penalties sometimes to “even out” the amount of penalties each team has. depends on the guy

amount

usually, each team gets about three penalties a game, sometimes more sometimes less

the leagues and the season

there is only one really big professional league (we will call it the champions league equivalent), the national hockey league (nhl) that plays in the us and canada. there are several smaller pro leagues in other countries, such as the khl (russia and eastern europe with one team in china), the shl (sweden), and liiga (finland). this section will talk about the nhl, but im pretty sure it is the same or very similar in the european leagues as well

divisions

the league is split into 2 conferences, east and west with 2 divisions in each conference. each division has 8 teams. 

east has the metropolitan and atlantic divisions, and includes all teams on the east coast of canada and the us, such as the pittsburgh penguins, the tampa bay lightning, and the toronto maple leafs

west has the central and pacific divisions, and includes all teams in the middle and on the east coast of canada and the us, such as the colorado avalanche, the vegas golden knights, and my vancouver canucks

regular season

regular season is made up of 82 games, and these games are used to get points to make it into the playoffs

points: a win is 2 points, a loss in overtime or a shootout is 1 point, and a loss in regular time is 0 points

playoffs 

the top three teams (points wise) in each division, as well as two wild cards from each conference go to the playoffs (16 teams total). they compete in a four round bracket to get to the final (like the world cup without the group stage)

each playoff series is a best of 7 series, so you have to win 4 of 7 games to win the series. the games alternate, two at home, two away, and then home away home. sometimes, teams have to travel between the two stadiums overnight (and they can be as far away as like 3,000km!)

being “swept” is when you don’t win a single game and get eliminated 4-0 on aggregate (which is on wins, not goals). if your team wins 4-0, you “swept” the other team

game 7: game 7 in the stanley cup playoffs is the best hockey you will ever see. two teams at the peak of their powers with everything on the line. its like a champions league final. 

the stanley cup, or the cup, is the trophy that can be one. there is no “keeping” the cup, there is only one and it has every player, coach, and manager’s name who have ever won the cup on its surface. there are various bands, and when one runs out of space it is “retired” in the hockey hall of fame in toronto, canada. its a pretty cool trophy

cup days is the day each player on the winning team gets to spend with the cup. they take it to their hometowns usually, they have been taken to childhood rinks, churches, mosques, on boats in lakes, on helicopters, and of course, people eat and drink out of it!

other fun facts that i think are cool

goalies: goalies can be “pulled” during the game to add another skater on the ice. this usually happens during a powerplay (for a 6 on 4 advantage) or during the last few minutes of the 3rd period when a team is down by 1 goal. this results in an empty net, and two things happen: the team with 6 players uses the extra player to their advantage and scores, or the team with less players just chips the puck down the ice and scores in the net (called an empty netter)

goalies also have the protection of the team, if someone hurts the goalie the whole team will fight them. goalies are precious and deserve hugs. hug your goalie yall

international hockey: because of politics between the ioc and the nhl, nhl players haven’t played in the olympics since 2014. there also was a hockey world cup, but that has only been held 2 times (in 2004 and 2016) and there are no plans for a return until 2024 at the earliest. this is a sensitive subject, and it is bad for the sport, but no there isn’t really an international, best-on-best tournament in hockey at the senior level right now

world juniors: there is one at the u-20 level though! the world juniors happen every year from december 26 to january 6 or 7, and it is the best players from each country under 21. usual countries that participate are canada, us, finland, sweden, germany, czechia, slovakia, switzerland, luxembourg, and latvia. russia was also involved, but has been excluded due to the war in ukraine. 

relegation: there is no such thing! everyone stays in the nhl. in order for teams to stay balanced, there is a salary cap (a limit to how much money you can be paying players each year) which i think is $88 million right now, so all teams have to spend the same amount. 

the messi/ronaldo rivalry: there is a hockey equivalent (i mentioned it in a previous post about hockey), which is the sidney crosby/alex ovechkin rivalry. they have been competing since 2005, and they are actually the same ages as ronaldo and messi too. they are both phenomenal, and there have been some historic fights and games between the two over the years. 

longevity: because it is such a high contact sport, the longevity in hockey is a lot less. it is better now, but most players retire between 33 and 38, with goalies usually retiring later and defencemen (who usually get into fights) retiring earlier. 

goals and assists: goals and assists are valued equally in the nhl, both called points. a point is a goal, an assist, or a secondary assist (you passed to the assister). most nhl games have an average of 6 goals a game, its quite high scoring, although this season the highest scoring game was 10 to 4. some games go to shootout and end 1 to 0. 

in shootout, it isn’t like footie where it would show the score as a tie and then the number of shootout goals that went in, it shows the winning team’s score as if they scored another goal and where it would say “FT” it would say “SO” for shootout. for overtime, the score would show “OT”. 

where to watch the nhl

most hockey games start at 7pm local time, which are local timezones across north america (pst, est, ct, and mt). you games for free on websites like atdhe.tv internationally, and if you are in the us and have an espn subscription, you can watch it there (im assuming you haven’t read this far if youre canadian lol). there are between 2 and 15 games every night from october until june, it is so much fun and there’s so many options!

if you’ve read this far i love you and i hope you want to watch hockey now! i would love to talk hockey with anyone who wants to learn more! mwah ily besties 😚🫶

[hannigramslesbianhusband]

So I started watching season 3 of Hannibal, and Will said this line, taken directly from the book!!

"Hannibal follows several trains of thought at once, without distraction from any one of the trains"

And it reminded me that I needed to post the continuation of this that I wrote a bit ago! So without further ado:

Clocks and Metronomes in Hannibal (2)

So… lets actually talk about this quote in relation to Hannibal. “They went in and out of phase”

Both clocks and pendulums could represent time in some way. Clocks, the current time. metronomes, the past. Hannibal is somewhat following two trains of thought- one trying to figure out the clock, and the other, remembering the things that the doctor is asking him to remember. We may not be told explicitly what he is remembering, but he does give multiple answers about it, so he is. When he stops the movement of the metronome, that is when he “closes up” and stops talking about the past. And Will’s analysing of crime scenes, imagining himself as the killer, always starts with a metronome. It’s like hes rewinding time, to live through what they lived through. 

I don’t have to argue very hard for the fact that clocks represent time, but I will anyway. Twice the stopping or disappearance of a clock has coincided with the death of a person. 

"the running looter pitched forward, tumbling to fall beside the clock, his face smashed and the clock’s face smashed too; his heart and the clock beat once and stopped."

"looked at his own bare wrist as though curious about the time of his death."

The ticking of the metronome and the clock going in and out of phase is probably representative of “the hemispheres of his brain acting independently”, as Dr. Rufin puts it, and his different trains of thought at the time. Perhaps he is splitting his thoughts simeultaneosly between calculations and clocks (which he enjoys, and admittedly takes a lot of mental energy from the average person), and his memories of what happened with Mischa (which he definitely does not want to remember.) 

We as the readers are only provided with the memories that Hannibal also remembers- as the end of the whole lodge scenario is due to him not remembering any of it. He doesn’t know, so we dont get to know. But we are both slowly learning it.

I think the TV show may have taken inspiration from this and applied it to Will as opposed to Hannibal- considering all the lost memories he ends with, and him slowly remembering them. 

Upon being pushed more about Mischa- his thoughts turn more from trying to calculate the length of the pendulums, and more trying to recall facts about different clocks he knows about. Almost desperately trying to distract himself- like the calculations are too hard for him now, his mind is too scattered. He really just wants to think about anything else. When we and he himself know he could easily figure out the length of that pendulum if he wanted to. Shortly after his thoughts turn to just recalling facts, he considers going into his mind palace, but he doesn't because “it would be a long shout for doctor Rufin”, and…. I'm not sure exactly what that means? Maybe its an error in my book and its supposed to say shot? But even if it is…. I'm still not exactly sure what that means. But regardless, there is a reason he doesn’t, maybe out of actually wanting to work with the doctor (which he seemed very ok with, even enthusiastic about), which means if he were to go to his mind palace, he would no longer be able to hear the doctor, or follow his multiple trains of thought. 

But, basically, lets talk about what the sounds of the clock and the metronome, and simultaneously the lines of Hannibal's thoughts, going in and out of phase really means. Typically… clocks and metronomes would not go in and out of phase. It depends on when the metronome is started in relation to what point of oscillation the clock is. It would stay there (assuming they are both moving at the same speed). And admittedly, i'm sitting here trying to calculate how exactly these two are moving, which i can’t exactly do without the numbers. What makes it harder is I know that this all happened in under one hour ("The clock used the Roman IV on its face, rather than IIII, for symmetry with the VIII on the other side. Hannibal wondered if that meant it had Roman striking—two chimes, one meaning “five” and another meaning “one.” "). The best answer i can come up with is that one of them has to be ticking at exactly double the speed of the other, but im no physicist so don’t take that as law. Regardless- my point here was trying to figure out if them ticking in AND out of phase with eachother was even possible. If it is, awesome! Thats an amazing attention to detail. If not, then we know for sure this is just a way of communicating how Hannibal's thoughts are working. I also wanted to figure out if the clock and metronome would tick at the exact same time in perfect antiphase, like they would in phase. If I could figure it out I think that would give a little more insight into how Hannibals thoughts are working, but I don't know!

Either way- here is what waves look like in phase, and antiphase (technically out of phase, but theres more to that)

Now- it doesnt say the two waves were exactly in phase or antiphase with eachother, it says "in and out of phase". Out of phase is simply anywhere the two waves are not in phase, including antiphase (antiphase is being completely and wholly out of phase). This means, that there are points where the two pendulums were antiphase with eachother,

Anyway- the bottom line is- just imagine the ticking in and out of phase as Hannibals trains of thought. Occasionally they line up, and occasionally they are completely different, but still overlap at certain points.

When he stopped the pendulum moving, he stopped his train of thought about Mischa and the past. Now he has one train of thought! Yay. 

Clocks and Metronomes in Hannibal

``Hannibal counted the beats of the metronome against those of the clock. They went in and out of phase``

?????? Clocks???! speaking of this, I found out something really cool. I was researching trying to find some kind of connection or UN-connection between clocks and metronomes and what they might mean here, and I found this very interesting journal, which references and builds off of some of Christiaan Huygens' discoveries and work.

Let's list out a couple of things:

Arguably, Hannibal's favorite book is Treatise of Light, by none other than Christiaan Huygens.

``Among Mr. Jakov’s books was a copy bound in leather of Christiaan Huyghens’ Treatise on Light, and Hannibal was fascinated with it, with following the movement of Huyghens’ mind, feeling him moving toward discovery. He associated the Treatise on Light with the glare of the snow and the rainbow distortions in the old windowpanes. The elegance of Huyghens’ thought was like the clean and simplified lines of winter, the structure under the leaves. A box opening with a click and inside, a principle that works every time. It was a dependable thrill, and he had been feeling it since he could read.``

I skimmed a bit of the book- and it does include an explanations of the calculations Hannibal used to determine the height of the towers in his castle- which he was doing before he read the book. Bro is a literal genius.

``Also in the year Hannibal was six, Count Lecter found his son determining the height of the castle towers by the length of their shadows, following instructions which he said came directly from Euclid himself. Count Lecter improved his tutors then—within six weeks arrived Mr. Jakov, a penniless scholar from Leipzig.``

The journal I previously mentioned is, in very simple terms, about how pendulums and clocks synchronize. We can very reliably assume Hannibal is a fan of Christiaan Huygens, it’s very possible he could later have read Horologium oscillatorium, where he discusses these discoveries. Unfortunately, I can not dig too deep into the original text because the only copy I could find is in Latin, and I really don’t want to translate all that. But I CAN use the information provided in the journal. It’s also reasonable to assume Hannibal would know a lot of the information presented in the journal, because although Christiaan Huygens’ books are from the 1600s, Hannibal is not, and discoveries have been made! Science has advanced! Yippee!

In the journal, It is stated that “Synchronization occurs in diverse physical, biological, and chemical systems. Examples include the synchronous flashing of fireflies, the chorusing of crickets, the rhythmic applause of concert audiences, the coordinated beating of cardiac pacemaker cells, the pathological neural synchrony associated with epileptic seizures, and the coherent voltage oscillations of superconducting Josephson junction arrays.”

It all sounds very artistic. It is beautiful and connected. Right up Hannibal's alley, for sure. But- whats that near the end?? “ the pathological neural synchrony associated with epileptic seizures”. Epileptic seizures. Let’s put that away for later. 

The synchronisation of pendulums (pendulum clocks, metronomes) placed on the same (wooden) surface even if started at antiphase will eventually become in phase with eachother BUT: synchonizing in phase causes the pendulums in the clocks to slow down, so they lose time (multiple seconds an hour) but- they way they synchronize is dependent on several things(mechanisms in the clock, length and thickness of the surface they're on,etc etc.) but basically- with a SMALL amount of damping (loss of energy in an oscillating system) the clocks with synchronize in phase, with a large amount of it they will be antiphase. clocks synchronizing in antiphase has been called sympathetic motion or the sympathy of clocks (not empathy). 

Synchronization in itself is a pretty artistic thing, beautiful and connected. It shows up everywhere- including something called neural synchrony. neural synchrony is basically when two people interact or communicate, their brain rythms/waves synchronize, couple, create matching patterns. You understand eachother. this is seen a lot more in romantic couples or people who are close together, child-parent relationships(especially as infants) and the such. Not usually seen in strangers. the brain to brain synchronization happens in the  temporal-parietal part of the brain. The way will makes himself think like killers- to the point sometimes he feels like he becomes them- is definitely neural synchrony. Why he can do that so easily with strangers, who may have never even met? Who knows; but at least we know all kills leave behind a part of the killer, a part of their psyche, and not always just a message.  Basically, Will's whole metronome thing is symbolic of him synchronizing mentally(and neurologically! Very cool) with the killers. This may have been way too much work for something that is a bit obvious, but it’s very interesting to unravel.

I’m not sure how I started with picking apart clocks and metronomes in relation to Hannibal (in the book), and ended up with a conclusion about Will (in the show), but I did! I can’t say much more on this for now as I haven’t finished the book, and Will has yet to show up. 

Now, that thing we put away for later.

Neural synchrony is also associated with epileptic seizures. Neuron firing tends to become synchronous/hypersynchronous in the middle of a seizure.

I wanted to go more into Will's encephalitis and seizures related to this- but those are only a thing in the TV show, so I cant connect it quite as well. I can share the things I did find out, though, so if anyone is interested to see that please let me know! But right now, I'm too researched out to put it all together, and that's mainly why I'm not including it here now. All in all- we all know Hannibal knows all that psychiatry stuff and is crazy smart and crazy insane, so here is a bit of the science of it and how it all loosely connects to the books. And, of course as someone who values beauty and art, he would become obsessed with Will upon seeing how effortlessly he can achieve that synchronicity with others- especially those who think similarly to him. Honorable mention to Eldon Stammets.

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: I’m an Idiot but At Least I’m Fun

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

BIG CW for this one: Blood, mild body horror.

(Totally ran out of time to post this yesterday, so here we are a day late again! For the 2/3 people that actually see this on tumblr lol. Just one chapter, and not a mega long one, but be safe while reading and feel free to message me for a summary or sections to skip if you’re worried about the content warnings. Hope you enjoy!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

16. I’m An Idiot But At Least I’m Fun 

    There was a steady dripping from the edge of the table she sat on. Azure sighed and then held her breath, digging the scalpel into her arm once more. She’d missed the intended node once already, and this was getting a little dicey. It crossed her mind that she really should consider an assistant for when she did her more complex updates, but then she’d have to deal with their concern for her wellbeing and that really only ever did more harm than good for her efficiency. A twinge of pain shot up from her elbow, and she reached behind her to carelessly flip a switch on a box wired to her ankle by about four yards of copper wire. The pain subsided, and she set the scalpel down in exchange for a pair of forceps. Time to dig. The dripping continued, blood running onto the ground and towards her workshop drain. She paid it no mind. She’d eat a cookie later. 

    But still, something burned at the back of her mind. She looked at the clock on her monitor, brow furrowed as she wiped a bloody gloved hand on her shirt. She was forgetting something. The faulty node was still blinking beneath all the blood, taunting her. Suddenly, a spurt of blood crossed the room, and some wiring escaped her arm, snaking slowly out of her open incision. She grit her teeth. That was never a fun feeling, blood-warmed metal exiting her body. “Fuck, oh, goddamn it-” Another spurt of blood, this one dripping down her arm and to the ground even though she had her free hand clamped around it. She grumbled low in her throat, words coming through the forceps she now held between her teeth. “Sonofabitch, I swear everytime I try-”

    “Bluemom, You have a visitor.” Her floating personal assistant bot, Bean, hovered over to her, his front display reading out her current rate of blood loss and the time. “He had an appointment.”

    “I don’t recall my brother or Turq or even Smalls needin’ appointments to see me. Just send ‘im in, whoever he is he’s seen worse I’m sure.” She waved the bot off and he hovered away, whistling his customary exit tune. She used the hand on her currently bleeding arm to open a drawer and rummage through its contents. “Gauze, gauze, gauze….”

    The door slid open, and a voice, not that of any of her shipmates and yet all too familiar, said, “Jesus.” 

    “Your Three O’Clock is here!” Chirped Bean. “Trinity Jericho has arrived.”

    She looked up to see Trinity standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. She could practically see the loading screen behind his eyes as his brain searched its databanks for an appropriate reaction or facial expression in response to the bizarre scene in front of him.

    She was a mess, blood running down her arm and all over her white tank top, a spare coil of fine wire hanging around the shell of her ear. A strange contraption was slithering its way out of her wound, the inside of her elbow flayed open. She’d have blushed in embarrassment, but she couldn’t really spare the blood, so she settled on smiling sheepishly. “Oh, uh, hey?”  More blood, this time escaping her fingers and splattering weakly at her feet. “...I’ve got gloves in that drawer right there behind you, would you mind helpin’ me for a quick sec? My hands are occupied right now.” Her tone was conversational, as though she was asking him to grab something from a fridge as opposed to putting on gloves to shove wires back up into her bicep. She continued using her lacerated arm to dig for gauze, blood dripping from her elbow and onto her bare feet.

Rather than figure out how to react, it looked like Trinity had decided not to react at all. His face was exceedingly casual, save for his slightly raised eyebrows, as he went over to the desk and removed the gloves, pulling them on. “Should I even ask?”

Something between a human laugh and a pig snort left her mouth. “Only if it’s necessary. I think I just nicked a vein. I’m more concerned with these connectors, they’re not supposed to be connected this loosely, which means they really shouldn’t be hangin’ out my arm like a hound dog out a pickup truck window.”

“Just nicked a vein,” Trinity mimicked, affecting a higher pitched southern drawl that combined with the slight disbelieving tone to his voice. “Ok. Ok, you’re completely insane, and probably only partially from blood loss. Now, tell me what to do.” He turned his attention to the wires, examining them closely with an expression that rivaled his focus when looking at a particularly interesting problem in one of his own production lines. “I think I see the basics of what’s going on here, but you’d know best.”

“It’s just the coolin’ lines, they kinda just gotta be-Oh!” She pulled a roll of gauze and some medigel from the drawer she’d been digging in. “Found ‘em.” She looked back up at him, arm stretched out, still applying pressure. “I’m not insane until I lose a full liter, by the way. We’re not even a quarter of the way there. They’re just coolin’ lines, you can just shove ‘em back in. I’d have done it already if I didn’t need to keep my blood in my body.” The cooling lines glowed a faint purple and continued to slowly snake their way out. She beheld her own mess with interest for a moment, puzzling something out. “Wonder if I could…”

“Let’s save that little curiosity journey for later, yes?” he interrupted, just the slightest hint of panic creeping into his tone that stopped short whatever she’d been about to come up with. “Maybe best to explore all the other experiments you could run on yourself when you’re not already bleeding all over the floor.” He started pushing the wires back into her arm, probably more gently than she would have done herself. “And, for the record, you’re insane with all your blood in your body. But I’m sure you know that already.”

“It’s what makes me fun!” Her irreverence for her own safety could almost be seen as endearing, if it wasn’t so dangerous. She grabbed a spray bottle marked ‘alcohol’ in big red letters, a roll of duct tape on her wrist. “Here, put pressure on it once it’s all in there, I’ll secure it back down later. Musculature will hold it for now.” She put the spray top of the bottle of alcohol between her teeth and bit down, twisting to remove it and dumping some of the contents over the open wound, no sign of a grimace. “Quickly dude, or we’re gonna be covered in blood. My heart’s still beatin’. God this would be so much easier if my limbs were detachable.”

Trinity almost said wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been covered in blood, or detachable limbs are another thing we don’t want to explore right now, but he was a little too busy to worry about snappy comebacks. He got some disinfectant a little more directly to the wound by covering a bandage in medigel, and set to work sealing the edges together temporarily with glue that he knew should work like stitches. The alcohol had luckily done the double job of cleaning away the excess blood, so all he had to do was swipe away the fresh blood that had just welled from it with a piece of gauze and apply the bandage. On top of it he folded a few more pieces of gauze for extra pressure, and he secured the whole thing with medical tape. It was quick, but rather well done for a rush job nonetheless. Azzy blinked at the result.

“Oh, I was gonna slam some gauze and medigel in there and throw some duct tape over it but that works too.”

“I know that’s what you were going to do, which is exactly why I didn’t do it. Might as well make use of an extra pair of hands.” Said hands, though gloved, were a bit of a bloody mess now, and he walked over to a sink with a bin for biohazard disposal to clean up. “Luckily I know something about cybernetics and first aid. I know you do too.” Unspoken was the implication that not everyone did-- that most people would probably freeze up or panic at such a sight. Beneath even that lay certainty that she did this often. Despite his jokes about her being insane, she’d been perfectly calm. This maybe wasn’t how all her repairs went, with the blood and all, but it wasn’t a surprise, either. He thought maybe that should scare him, but instead he simply accepted it as fact. What else could he do?

“Can’t see how it matters too much, can’t avoid the scarrin’ anyway. Thanks, though.” she looked up at him with that same lopsided smile before bending her arm a couple times. “I forgot you were comin’, lemme get this shit cleaned up and we’ll get that maintenance outta the way.”

He shrugged as he finished washing his own hands and disposing of the gloves, and started to help her clean up. “Scars, those don’t matter. Everyone has them, visible or not, you don’t make it far in life without them. But in this kind of world… I think you might as well save yourself a little pain and danger any time you have the chance.” There was an honesty in his voice that drew her attention, but he was facing away from her. He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned with a crooked grin. “So, what nefarious plans do you have for my eye today?”

She was already across the room in front of a pair of doors, arms crossed over her front to pull her shirt up and over her head. She was facing away from him, her back tan and striped with thin white scars all the way up her spine, ending in one final splintering burst at the base of her neck. Barely visible at this distance was the white ink tattooed across her back to make the whole mess look like a dandelion puff. The shirt fell to the ground with a wet flop as she hit a button to open a closet full of more white tank tops, these ones pristine. Her hands were clean already. “S’not like I feel it anyway, that’s what the ankle wire’s for.” She grabbed a shirt and tugged it over her head, fixing her beanie as she turned to face him again and grabbed a mop from the corner. 

“Ankle wire?” He glanced down, mechanical pieces fitting together behind his eyes. “Of course. You electrocute your nerve endings to suppress pain. Makes perfect sense.” Was she imagining the tiny edge to his voice? “And to think you lectured me before about the external charging I was doing. Don’t you ever worry you’ll fry them, go numb permanently? Although…” He shook his head, the joking tone back to his voice. “Never mind, you could probably fix that if it happened, anyway.” 

Azzy began cleaning, ignoring the edge to his voice. This was why she never let anyone assist with her cybernetic self experimentation. This, and the process of the reset. She let herself sound cocky. "Of course I could fix it. Anyway, I have an update for the cooler, so it'll adjust with your body temp, like a real eye. Good for if someone's lookin' atcha with thermal imagin'." She hit a button and hopped onto a counter, the edges of the floor beginning to flood slightly with water. "I also thought maybe I'd upload this real spicy book I read last week to it, in case you get bored. You’ll love it." She snorted, unable to keep a straight face.

He laughed quietly along as he lifted himself onto the counter next to her. It was odd-- even through genuine humor he was looking at her like he was considering something, searching her for the answer to some unspoken puzzle. He let his gaze wander again just before the point where consideration became outright staring. “Feel free. That thermal imaging sounds like a great idea.”

The floor was done flooding, washing the remaining blood down a drain in the center of the room. She hopped back down, crossing the room and grabbing her boots off a shelf. Can't mess with people's eyes with your bare feet just out and around. She looked up from her feet with a curious expression, like he'd given her a brain teaser. "What was that look? You were thinkin' about somethin', and it's almost definitely not the alien erotica I'm puttin' in your peeper as soon as the standard tune up is done."

He shrugged. “I’ll tell you later. There’s some research I want to do first.” He slid off the counter. “First things first, heat regulation and alien erotica.”

"Don't have to tell me twice. Get on the table, I'll get the hookups. Pop that sucker out too, I need to check the retina." She pulled a clean pair of gloves on, snapping the cuff against her wrist. The sensation ricocheted up her arm. Her elbow and wound sparked. Her freshly patched arm swung out of its own volition, landing squarely on Trinity’s backside. Azure blinked, tips of her ears turning bright scarlet as her mouth twitched. “Oops.”

Trinity turned to look at her and blinked bemusedly. “...Getting an early start on the erotica part?” he quipped, but his already pink cheeks flushed darker as he spoke.

Azure giggled in response, pulling her arm back the moment she realized she’d left it there in shock. “Sorry. The node’s been misfirin’, if I hadn’t missed the incision point I’d have replaced and calibrated it by now, my bad.” Her eyes flickered briefly downwards and then immediately to her desk, smirking as she rolled her shoulder and shook her hand to get out any further bursts. “...Glad to know you don’t skip your squats. It’s a nice ass, now that I’m lookin’ at it instead of the wires in my arm.”

“A misfire, sure.” Trinity smirked back. It was easy to tell she was being serious about the misfire-- a lie would have come with a lot more stammering and awkward pauses-- but it was a prime opportunity to tease his friend that he wasn’t about to miss. “Your powers of observation are astonishing. Here.” He popped out the cybernetic eye, deceptively simple looking detached from its complex inner workings. He grinned, and tossed it lightly in one hand, waiting for her to turn back to face him. “Catch.”

She held a jar of fluid for his eye in her hand already as she turned, brow raised. As she faced him, he smirked and tossed the eye towards her, an easy to intercept underhand throw. “Ohfuck-” Snatching it out of the air and setting it gently in the jar, she pouted at him. “Dude, I’m not makin’ you another one if that one breaks.”

“You didn’t make the first one.” He smiled. “It’s fine, I knew you’d catch my eye.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, then set the jar down and cracked a smile, some small hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Very funny Hotshot, well done. Don’t throw your fuckin’ organs.” Digging out a small monitor and some wires, she glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. “I’m sure all the girls tell you that though, right?”

He scoffed, amused at the idea of the women at the events he attended saying anything about organs out loud. “Just you. It’s a bit of an honor, really.” 

“Flatterer. Don’t think I don’t know about your eight illicit rendezvous with five women in the last two days. Sara Mitchell told me all about them last time.” She rolled her eyes and stood, handing him the bundle of tech and tugging at his shirt collar to plug something into his port. “They’re tryin’ harder every time, I swear. I can see why you wanted the backup more ‘n more, I can’t imagine how you got anythin’ done at those things.”

“Mostly by ignoring anyone I didn’t want something from,” Trinity replied casually, opening his shirt a few more buttons to let her access his port more easily. The motion revealed those tattoos she’d already noticed a few times before when doing repairs-- the birds in flight, the trinity knot, the wall, the crumbling tower. Again she considered that their placement, so close to bone in most places and with so many heavy black lines and detailed patterns, must’ve really hurt. A phantom pain shot down her own spine in sympathy at the thought.

“Well, I guess that explains it just fine.” She flipped a few switches, monitors whirring to life. “Not very nice, but then again neither is listenin’ to them gripin’ because I won’t tell ‘em your-” She stopped herself, face reddening as she dropped a heartbeat sensor in his lap. A nasal feminine voice replayed in her ear, begging the question how big is it, really? She picked her sentence back up with a rambling vigor, trying her absolute best to drown her own thoughts out. “-current plans. Nasty, all of ‘em. Super nosy. Can’t blame you for ignorin’ it. Wanna put that on your finger? Don’t matter which, any of ‘em are fine, I gotta make sure the readin’s are accurate.” 

He gave her a look like he wanted to question her about the hesitation, though she was certain he had a pretty good idea what the ladies had actually been asking her about. However, he simply quirked an eyebrow in her direction as he slipped the sensor onto his pointer finger.

Face still red, she hooked the eye up to a different wire. Something hummed and buzzed, and she heaved a dramatic sigh. “Sorry, you don’t have enough space for the porn. You have all of it allocated for images and text files made by the unit itself.” She made a few keystrokes and turned, looking at everything but him. “Okay, that’s updatin’. Lemme see your empty eye socket, your nerve is registerin’ some weird readings.”

Trinity turned his face up to hers, exposing the scarred inner socket of his eye. He’d never said what had happened to it, but it didn’t look pleasant. “The optic nerve? It should be fine, it’s totally cybernetic. It’s not degrading again, is it?” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice at the thought.

“It’s probably just one busted cell. It’s still machinery, sometimes parts need to be replaced.” She grabbed a pair of foreceps and clicked them together where he could see with his good eye. “Tell me if you feel this, because you’re definitely not supposed to.” She poked around at the back of his socket. “Anythin’?”

“No. I think your mother poked around in there enough when she was installing it that it won’t feel much ever again.”

“Then your actual nerve past the cybernetic and into your brain is fine, its just a couple of cones tryin’ to be data transmitters.” She poked at something else and made a small noise of triumph. “I’ll have it replaced, shouldn’t be hard. I think I made a couple extras when I was up all night last week.” The foreceps went back to the table and her face reappeared in his line of sight, beaming. “Your whole business is just as busted, but it’s no worse than when you came the first time. Matter of fact, some of the burns from when your eye wasn’t cooled properly have healed pretty well, like they weren’t even there.”

“Oh,” Trinity responded, pleasantly surprised. “Yes, I tried to do some first aid to keep it from scarring the way my leg did when I used to charge my taser externally.” He didn’t meet her eyes, even though he’d only done it a half dozen times, and all long before he’d met her. The second reminder of his own carelessness with his remaining nerves made him feel a bit guilty for sniping at her about her own. “I took the eye out when I could, used some burn creams and medigel, that kind of thing. Anyway, I’m glad to hear that there’s nothing wrong with the organic nerves.”

“Yep, if nerves had feelin’s they’d be happy as hell. Strong impulses, not too much overtime. Whatever took ‘em out the first time, you’re recoverin’ pretty well given that you lost your whole ass eye.” She returned to her computers, hands flying deftly across the keys and screens as she looked for more anomalies. 

“Well, it’s been a couple years at this point. I let it degrade for a while before I sought out your mom, but… it’s good to hear that damage didn’t last.” At least those nerves had recovered. Others hadn’t, but that was going to be the subject of his research for the next few days. Despite what he’d seen earlier when Azzy had been working on her own cybernetics, he trusted her implicitly with his. If anyone could fix his problem, she could.

“It makes sense, the brain doesn’t like leavin’ things so close to it busted. Optic nerve is pretty close.” Her tongue poked out at the corner of her mouth and she squinted at her screen. “....Hey, want a wider zoom on your sensor?”

“Why not? Whatever you think, I trust your judgement.” He leaned back slightly, relaxing, and let her work. She stood quietly for some minutes, occasionally humming a quiet tune that was almost familiar. 

Eventually, she was satisfied with her work. She unhooked his eye from its wires, passing him the jar. “There you go, go ahead ‘n smack that back into its place and you’re all set. Recalibrated it’s temperature sensin’ and the coolin’ system to be a little more sensitive to ambient heat. Don’t go swimmin’ in super cold water, though. Might be a little too ambient for it for now.” She had that same smug look she always did when she was done doing maintenance, eyes bright.

“Of course. Thanks, doc.” He said the last bit with a slight smirk, and popped the eye back into place. It rolled around for a few seconds before settling. “See you at the next event?”

“Only if that guy with the braid’s there, I hear he’s kinda fun.” She took her gloves off and waved him off the table. “Get outta here, I gotta reset my arm.”

“Alright.” He stood, a quick pat on her non-injured shoulder his goodbye. “Be careful of that wound. I bandaged it so well, it would be a shame if you messed up my handiwork.”

“I have three doctorates, of course I’m gonna mess it up.” She gave him a quick pat as well, her smile genuine. “I’ll go easy on it. Bean’ll take you back, careful none of my scary vigilante’s eat ya on the way out.” The small bot hovered over his shoulder, beeping a hello tune.

He grinned, and nodded. “I’ll try to steer clear. Let’s go, Bean.” He followed the little bot from the lab, with one last wave towards Azzy, not looking back. She heaved a sigh and grabbed a wire, connecting it to one of her ports once the door closed behind him. She had a limb to test and reset.

[kaypeace21]

About what you said in your last post, that everything is done for narrative purpose, why do you think Mike and Will's fight and Will destroying Castle Byers are pretty much never addressed again in s3 after they happen? It's one of the things that left me most confused about the season and really felt like 'unresolved narrative' if you know what I mean. Great theories by the way!

It could be for a few reasons. I mentioned how they reference the fact that in s3 there is the theme of Mike equating ‘falling for girls’ as just a part of growing up and his feelings for Will as something childish he has to has to grow out of. 

So this theme of overcoming this toxic heteronormative-mindset may be the crux of their relationship for rest of the show.

- And Will too… we could all have new presents to play with and… *scoffs* Sorry, that made me sound like a 7 year old... (apologizing to El)

- confessing to El : “A feeling … yeah, like, something… like OLD PEOPLE say it sometimes”.

- The fact that Mike & Will , in the pilot pitch to the show (when the show was called “Montauk”) are the only ones described as using d&d games to “Escape” . Mike using D&D  to escape his insecurities about not having a gf (retreating into his imagination). While Will (who is somewhat aware of his sexuality) uses d&d to escape and be himself uninhibited. They’re foils in a sense- using d&d for opposing reasons. You can read the “stranger things bible” pdf for yourself or the wiki version here (it’s identical).

 So Mike saying -”I’m not trying to be a jerk. Ok? But We’re not kids anymore.” I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?” And poor Will who is probably more aware of his feelings just responding “Yeah. I guess I did. I really did.” And the fact that Mike rushes to Will’s house and apologizes saying he was an “asshole”, after this , is significant.

- The s3 videogame apparently has Mike ask Will why he destroyed castle Byers. And Will just looks at him and throws his words back at him “Like you said, we’re not kids anymore.” So this could have been from a deleted scene. Mike saying he didn’t see a future with Will broke his heart.  Out of all the memories in Castle Byers it’s the Ghostbusters photo from Halloween that causes Will to pick up the bat and start destroying everything. That was the night that Mike agreed to go “crazy together” with him. He tears it in ½ right in the center where Mike and Will are. He was “so stupid” to think it meant anything. The “crazy together” scene, that Mike initiated in s2 was always meant to be romantic. Not only because of Will’s reaction to the photo in s3, but because Mike in s3 says “They do say it makes you crazy…blank makes you crazy.”  Which is exactly what happens to Will, as he has his breakdown.Castle byers was built on a rainy night , the same day Will’s dad left, when Will was 5 (the same age he met Mike). And lonnie called him a “queer” and a “f*g” and forced him to do “normal things” like baseball to have him “be more of a man”. And then on a rainy night, after Mike says “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”… what does Will destroy castle byers with? A baseball bat! So he broke something he loved Castle Byers (the symbol of his childhood) and his “childish-love” for Mike with Lonnie’s bat. Trying to use Lonnie’s tactics of ‘fixing him’.

And the whole d&d discussion after his 3 month split with El. 

Mike: “WHOA, dude that’s the donation box.”

Will: “ I know, I’ll just use yours,  when I come back. (pause) if WE still want to play?”

Mike : “Yeah, but what if you want to join another party?” (cough- girls , the other ‘species’, or just someone else: girl, guy or otherwise)

Will: “Not possible.” (Will will always love Mike).

I think people don’t notice what the subtext is here- regardless of his intentions, Mike broke Will’s heart. He made him feel “stupid” for ever thinking he ever had a chance with Mike. He always saw Mike as his forever, but Mike shot any hopes of that down in the garage. Will doesn’t trust his own instincts. Mike could straight up flirt with him in s4/5- and Will would dismiss it as his imagination. He essentially said ‘he’ll always love Mike- but if something is going to happen. It’s up to Mike to initiate it’.

-so the byler centric ending with the Hopper monologue reinforces this theme.When we first see Mike during the Hopper mologue, the moving truck leaves. “Like you’re pulling away from me or something (Will does this both figuratively/literally). I miss playing board games every night (d &d)”. Then Mike looks back at the Byers house (just lingers there and looks back as his friends leave) like how Will did seeing Mike hold hands with El and leave .  “But I know you’re getting older, growing, changing. I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change.” Mike , ‘doesn’t want things things to change’. He doesn’t want their friendship to become romantic because,  it “scares” him (especially in rural 80s conservative-Indiana at the height of the aids epidemic). Right after that scene it switches to Will crying,  and then it immediately switches again to Mike hugging his mom- to mirror the time he thought Will died in s1. “So I think maybe that’s why I came in here, to try and maybe stop that change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were.” He goes back to his mother for comfort, like he did the 1st time he lost Will. But also to reverse back time, to s1, before he realized his feelings for Will may be romantic.  When things were simpler. 

Then we see the moving truck officially leave Hawkins. “But I know that’s naive. It’s just not how life works. It’s moving, always moving, whether you like it or not. And yeah, sometimes it’s painful. Sometimes it’s sad. And sometimes, it’s surprising. Happy.” (byler endgame)

 In the last ep (in s3) Mike mirrors the scene in s1, hugging his mom, since he feels like he’s losing Will all over again. In s1 the romantic lyric from the song ‘We can be heroes’ plays as he hugs his mom “And we kiss as though nothing could fall. And the shame.” And right after the s3 hug (‘we can be heroes’) plays again!

Their relationship for the rest of the series could be Mike having to overcome the idea that growing up has to be about having girlfriends, and that as they grow older the evolution of their relationship will become romantic. But only until Mike lets go of his “insecurities” and “shame” about his feelings for Will.

[artificialqueens]

The 5 Times Bob Tried to Propose and the 1 Time It Worked (Bob/Miz Cracker) - Mac

AN: I’ve been working on this fic for over a year now, and I’m so glad to finally get it out of my drafts. This is a bunch of fluff, with a teeny tiny bit of angst, but a happy ending. I hope you all enjoy! (Special thanks to Saiph for beta-ing, and being an absolute angel.)

Summary: What the title says…

…

It had been a wonderful dinner. Bob had taken Maxwell to their favorite restaurant and ordered pretty much everything on the menu. That was one of the multitude of things they had in common, their love of food. Bob’s heart had been racing the whole meal and subsequently, his leg was bouncing non-stop. Maxwell had been periodically asking him if he was ok, to which Bob had tried to mask his nerves with a smile. Only serving to make Maxwell more curious.

Bob had been planning this for months, the location, the speech, even what he would be wearing. So naturally he wanted this to go well. Bob kept glancing at his watch and looking at Maxwell expectantly. Maxwell gave him a strange look, but smiled at his boyfriend, unsure what had sparked this weird nervousness, but not on the whole opposed to it. It was nice seeing Bob a little out of his element. The comedy queen of season 8 was usually all confidence and wicked smirks. Seeing him nervously looking around and blushing every time their hands touched, was a welcome turn of events.

As Max finally pushed his plate forward and leaned back, Bob grabbed his hand. Maxwell sat up suddenly at the intensity in Bob’s eyes; all the mirth had vanished. His hands were sweaty, and his heart was pounding out of his chest.

Nevertheless, he started his speech. “Max, we’ve been together a while now. We both have big plans for our future, and I know that you’re gonna do amazing things in this world, and I want to be there to witness all those moments.” Bob started to kneel. “Maxwell will-“

A sudden shriek from the opposite end of the restaurant caused both Bob and Maxwell’s heads to turn. A man was on his knees with an outstretched box. A woman, who Bob assumed the annoying sound had come from was crying hysterically. “Yes. Yes, of course!” The patrons began to clap loudly, and Bob could only just pick up Max’s voice above the noise.

“Wow, how tacky.”

Fuck Bob thought. and he let out the breath he had been holding. There goes that.

As the applause died down, Maxwell turned his attention back to Bob. “What were you saying, babe?”

“Oh nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

…

They were visiting Bob’s family in Georgia. It had been a long time since he had been back. Everything looked the same, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. It was sad, but he was happy that he now had confirmation that his life in New York was the right one to be living. Bob’s family embraced him with open arms and scolded him for not calling enough. They told Max he was too skinny, and after feeding him an entire aluminum tray of macaroni, effectively putting him in a food coma, they turned their attention back to Bob. The questions started immediately, and Bob couldn’t help the smile that enveloped his face as he gushed about all his proposal ideas. His family was ecstatic. They had always loved Max, and the year it took the two of them to get their heads out of their asses and start dating, was the longest of their lives. For the rest of the week that Bob and Maxwell were visiting, they kept giving him sly smiles, and dropping hints about different proposal locations. Finally, Bob knew he just had to get away for the day, the incessant nagging, while out of love, was beginning to grate on his nerves. He offered up the county fair to Max, who eagerly accepted, happy to have some alone time together. It was a small affair, but there were hot air balloons and a Ferris wheel, and Max was there, so it was a good time. They walked around to the few booths. Max was surprisingly good at skee ball. And Bob was surprisingly not. Max won a stupidly huge stuffed bear, and made Bob hold it while he ran around like a kid to all the other booths. It was cheesy and silly, but Max’s smile still filled Bob’s chest with a warm fuzzy feeling. Even after all this time, Bob’s heart still beat just as hard as it had the first time. Well maybe not the first first time, because they had simply been strangers at that point. When he thought about it, it still floored him that they could have ended up just being ships in the night, passing in and out of each other’s lives with hardly any notice. He is grateful to whatever deity that possessed him to run after Max all those years ago. It had been awkward at first, Bob standing still and silent, unsure what to say to make Max stay. He finally told Max that he wanted to try. Wanted to give whatever they had, a try. Max took a moment. Bob could see the wheels in his head working so fast smoke was coming out his ears. But then they screeched to a halt suddenly, and Max nodded with a small smile, and the rest was history. Not an entirely peaceful or normal history, they were drag queens for fuck’ sake, but they had made that journey together. Bob hoped against hope that they could continue to do so. And almost as if on cue, almost as a sign from the gods above, Bob spotted a hot air balloon. Not one to ignore signs, Bob grabbed Max’s hand and drug him over to the line. Max gave him a sweet smile and allowed himself to be led into the contraption, with Bob holding his hand, and an employee to drive them. Bob tried to contain his excitement until they were floating some hundred feet above the ground. He held Max close to him, arm wrapped around his lover’s waist, and his own hand in his back pocket fiddling with the box. Max was looking out at the horizon, pointing out buildings and clouds and anything his eyes could touch. Bob hummed his affirmations, too scared to speak without giving away his intentions. Just as the tension became too much, Bob made a grab for the box. Several things happened at once. The balloon dipped suddenly and without warning, causing the box that contained the ring in Bob’s hand to fly out into the air. Max shrieked and grabbed onto the basket tightly as the wind whipped all around them, sounding like a scream. And the attendant that was supposed to be flying the damn thing was frantically running around the small space doing god knows what. Bob felt his stomach drop at the loss of the ring, but he couldn’t worry about that now with Max clutched against his chest, and the wind still beating on the sides of the basket, hundreds of miles above ground. They stayed pressed together, breathing in each other’s air for what felt like years. The wind whipped and screeched, but Bob held fast to Max. The older man began to have trouble breathing. Bob grabbed Max’s face in between his hands and made a conscious effort to slow his own breathing. Max started at him helplessly, trying his best to calm down. Bob recognized Max having an anxiety attack. After so many years together, he knew the signs like the menu at their favorite restaurant. Bob held Maxwell’s face steady and began whispering reassurances, “It’s ok. You are ok. Just breathe with me. Can you do that?” Max nodded jerkily, and squeezed his eyes shut. Sometimes when he was having these attacks he hit, what he described as “sensory overload.” Sometimes sounds could be too much, sometimes touch could be too much, sometimes even looking at anything was too much. Bob had gotten pretty good at reading Max’s needs at these times, but he still got things wrong. So, he would always ask if what he was doing was ok. “Is it ok that I’m holding you?” A nod. “Do you want me to stop talking?” A shake. “Ok.” Bob continued breathing in and out slowly, occasionally whispering to Max that everything was ok and that it was going to be ok. And before long, the wind died down, and the balloon touched none too gently on the ground. Max bolted out of the small space, and Bob followed close behind, sulking a bit when Max wasn’t looking. Maxwell held his hand the entire drive back to Bob’s house, and only let him go when he had to undo his seat belt.

…

Bob read on three separate marriage blogs that skywriting your proposal was really “in” right now. Bob never considered himself super trendy, but he figured it was over dramatic and sweet, so Max would appreciate it.

He had run into quite a few problems right from the start. They lived in New York City, which had some strange, but understandable laws about flying planes close to buildings. So, Bob had to schedule the proposal a few weeks out, and come up with some excuse to get Max and himself away from tall buildings, which sounded a lot easier said than done. Ultimately, Bob made the plans, and the payments, and went to bed feeling slightly better about his previous failed attempts.

Finally, the morning came, and Bob’s alarm blared into the previously silent bedroom. Max groaned loudly and attempted to silence the alarm by throwing a pillow at it. This only left the clock on the ground, and Maxwell without a pillow. Bob chuckled lightly at his boyfriend, who was now burrowing his head into Bob’s side and pouting. Bob started stroking Max’s hair lightly, and could have done so for hours, if only the high-pitched wailing of the clock weren’t so damn annoying.

Bob sighed and untangled himself from the human leech that was a sleepy Maxwell, to turn off the alarm. Max groaned again when Bob flung open the curtains, letting the early light dance along the walls of their shared room.

“Five more minutes.” Max pleaded; head still buried in the sheets.

“No, c’mon we’re gonna miss it.” Bob pulled the blankets and sheet clear off the bed, leaving Max grumpily looking up at him between his fingers. Well, as grumpily as a grown man in boxer shorts with a pout can.

“Miss what?”

“Miss Vanjie”

Max laughed despite himself.

He got back at Bob by taking his sweet ass time getting ready. Bob eventually had to physically pull Max out of the apartment so they wouldn’t be late.

They took a taxi and sat in relative silence with Max’s head resting on Bob’s shoulder, only occasionally sitting up to ask Bob where they were going. Bob refused to answer, but as they drove, and the signs for the pier became more frequent, Max started to get an idea.

When they pulled up, Max jumped out of the taxi excitedly, leaving Bob to fork over the fare. Max practically ran over to the line for the ferry and looked back at Bob expectantly.

Bob knew Max had always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty up close. Even though they both had been in New York long enough to call it Home, neither had been to see the iconic landmark yet. Bob had found it too touristy, and practically pointless, but Maxwell was a bit of a history nerd.

Every time they would vacation, Max would ask to go to the local museum. And not the big nice ones, no. He wanted to go to the tiny ones in the middle of bumfuck nowhere towns that were run by some old man that the town had nicknamed something that started with a J.  It was Bob’s personal opinion that all the old men they had met over the years were ghosts haunting them. Each time he told Max this, the older man would chuckle and press a kiss to his cheek, before turning back to inspect the artifacts. And while Bob didn’t understand it, who was he to get in the way of Max’s weird fascinations?

They piled on a too crowded boat, that felt like it could tip over at any moment, and Bob tried to not let his nerves show, but he couldn’t help his hands fidgeting. Max noticed, and placed his own hands in Bob’s larger ones, interlocking their fingers with a small smile.

Bob looked up at the sky, trying to make out where the plane would come from, and where his message would end up. It took Bob until the ferry was almost across the river to realize something had gone wrong. And it took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out what exactly had gone wrong.

In the midst of all his planning and prepping, he had completely forgotten to check the weather. The overcast sky was filled with so many clouds, no wonder the white smoke message didn’t appear.

Bob felt completely dejected but tried to put on a brave face for Max, who was eagerly running about, interrogating any tour guides in the immediate area.

…

Bob had no idea how to cook. He had tried and failed many times before. For their anniversaries, Maxwell would always take the lead, restricting Bob to dish duty, and even then, Bob managed to fuck something up. This time was going to be different, at least, that’s what Bob was telling himself. Breakfast in bed, the most classic romantic gesture, with a bit of a twist.

He had been scrolling endlessly on Amazon when he found it. A simple teacup that when filled with liquid hid the “Will you marry me?” message. Bob immediately added it to his cart. He had pulled up some fancy recipe for Quiche and woke up at the ass crack of dawn to cook.

It started off fine.

Bob cut the onions, washed the spinach, and scrambled the eggs. Everything seemed fine, until he started rolling out the pie crust. It was way too flimsy and kept breaking apart in the pan. Bob ended up working some kind of patchwork magic, filling in the holes as best he could, before combining all the ingredients into the pan. He said a silent prayer to any god that would listen and placed the pan in the oven. He put the kettle on the stove and sat back on their tiny little couch.

He felt himself comforted by the tattered blanket that was draped across his legs. Maxwell brought it from his old apartment. Bob smiles at the memory. Two apartments. It feels strange now to think that there was ever a time when he could breathe without Maxwell by his side. Or in his bed.

Moving in together was a normal step of most relationships that had lasted as long as his and Maxwell’s, but that step had been by far the hardest to work through.

Max had always been hesitant in their relationship. He overthought everything, and whenever there was a time to make a big relationship step, Bob had to be the one to make it. After a while, Bob started to worry that he was pressuring Max, or that his feelings weren’t reciprocated in the way he thought they were. When he communicated this to Max, the older man insisted it wasn’t anything to do with Bob himself.

“The reason I seem so hesitant is because I’ve been in relationships in the past where my affections, or at least, the degree at which I showed my affections, was not appreciated. I know you love me, and all the crazy that comes with that. But for me, sometimes I just feel like-like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for you to realize that I’m way too into you, or not worth any of this mess. I’m just so scared if you knew how much I love you, you would run.”

Bob held him a little closer that night, and wiped his tears, and assured him that he was loved and wanted and so incredibly special. They fell asleep on the tiny couch, with dried tears on both of their faces, but a new blanket and a little less space in the closet.

Only after thoroughly getting lost in his own memories did Bob realize he had completely forgotten to add cheese. He ran to the kitchen and threw open the oven. Eyeballing about half the package of cheese, he threw it haphazardly on the top of the pie. He noticed that the filling was quite close to the top of the pan, but Bob remembered reading that this was normal, so he didn’t worry much.

Thirty minutes later, the smoke alarm sounded.

“Fuck!” He heard from the bedroom.

“Max, wait hold on!”

Bob shot up from the couch and threw open the oven, which was releasing an alarming amount of smoke. Maxwell was hot on his heels, and immediately threw open a window fanning the smoke to the bustling New York City morning. Bob grabbed the still hot pan and threw it on the stove, but in the process, he knocked over the kettle and cup in one swipe. The cup and kettle fell to the ground in a deafening crack, and Bob felt a bit of his heart crack too.

Maxwell immediately ran over to help, most of the smoke clear now. He pulled Bob away from the broken cup, and grabbed his hands, red marks from the hot pan angrily looking back at him. Maxwell grabbed the first aid kit from their shared closet and sat Bob down on the couch as he washed the burns with the lightest touch. Cup forgotten, mess forgotten, it was just the two of them, and Bob’s burning skin.

Max grabbed white vinegar from the still wreck of a kitchen and winced as Bob breathed in at the contact. All the while, Bob was focused on how his heart still swelled in his chest every time their hands touched. Maxwell finally sat back on the couch after pressing a light kiss to Bob’s hands.

“What on earth were you doing? I thought I revoked your kitchen rights after that instance with the brownies.” Maxwell wasn’t angry, thank god. He was just concerned. He also had this sad look in his eye; the likes Bob wasn’t familiar with. Bob knew after his previous attempts at proposing, Max was getting suspicious, and with every failed attempt, Bob distanced himself further. He was trying not to, but it was hard. It just felt like the world was out to get him and Max’s relationship.

“Sorry, Max. Was just trying to surprise you with somethin nice. Won’t happen again.” Bob crossed his heart. “I swear it.”

Maxwell smiled lightly, trying to keep from asking all the questions he so desperately wanted to ask. He instead opted for draping himself on top of Bob. The position wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, for either of them, but they stayed there until the sun was high in the sky, and the spilled tea hung heavy in the air.

That smell never quite left either.

…

I didn’t know it yet

That you would be the one

The first place we met

Our adventure had begun

Max looked at the note quizzically, according to Dusty’s recollection. He asked if it was some kind of joke. Dusty did his best not to spill the beans right there, and just told Maxwell to trust him. And so, the adventure began.

Bob had been planning this for weeks. He was by no means a poet, or even good with words most of the time, but he had gotten all their friends involved, and even people who weren’t their friends. There were clues hidden in all their usual date spots, as well as a few private moments they had shared together.

The first clue led to the side of a street in New York City. Monét was standing in the exact spot Bob remembered seeing Maxwell all those years ago. She handed Maxwell the second clue, who, by this point, was smiling goofily. Not quite sure what was going on, but by now, he was used to Bob’s antics.

Libraries full

Got nothing on you

The place I hate

Where you almost flew

The first time they fought. It wasn’t a happy memory, but a necessary one. It marked the time Max didn’t give in to his Inner Saboteur.

They had yelled and screamed in the middle of a bookstore. Bob still can’t remember what it was about, neither of them could. But all he knows is that the door flung open. Maxwell stood in the doorway for too long. The tinny music was the only sound that filled the practically empty bookstore. The two of them were in limbo. The musty smell didn’t matter. The nosy shop owner didn’t matter. The overwhelming feeling of dread that Bob had didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Max stayed. He breathed in and out. Once. Twice. Then turned around.

He walked right up to Bob. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there.

And that was it.

They went about their night with biting quips here and there, tension still thick, but they were together.

Bob wanted to revisit all the places that meant anything to them. He wasn’t sure if Max would remember, but sure enough, he got that sad look on his face, at least according to Vanjie. She said, in between her gushing about her own wedding, that Max looked sad, but he knew exactly where to go to find the next clue. Bob had gotten Maxwell’s favorite book, a first edition copy for their three-year anniversary.

I’ve never been prouder

You light up my world

Come to the place

Where my heart first curled

The place they said, “I love you.” Bob couldn’t forget it even if he tried, and he never did. They had been perched up on the High Line. Looking out over the city. The world felt so full and bright and busy. Bob knew that was where he belonged, and that brought him joy, and at the same time, he felt sadness, because he knew his time in this great city would come to an end. He was overwhelmed, and when Maxwell leaned his head on his shoulder, he couldn’t help it. It just slipped out.

Maxwell had looked pensive as his face was caressed by the chilly New York City night air. But he said it back after a few seconds. And from that moment on, they couldn’t stop smiling at each other. Those sickly-sweet smiles that made others around them want to hurl, but secretly happy at the same time.

To you I’ll be true

Forever and a day

Don’t run too fast

I’ll get in your way

This is when it all went awry.

Maxwell had no idea where to go.

Looking back, Bob could have been clearer in his instructions. Maxwell wandered around the city practically all night; Bob was a helpless victim, watching as his soon-to-be fiancé went around to all the wrong places. Somehow, Maxwell missed the last three clues, but ended up in the right place anyway, back at their apartment. But rather than a romantic dinner and gushing about their wedding, the food was cold, and Bob was too tired and sad to answer any of Maxwell’s incessant questions. They ate in a stiff silence as Bob wondered if he even wanted to get married.

…

Bob had given up. He had tried on five separate occasions to propose to Max, and each time he hadn’t been able to. Maybe it was the universe telling him something. Maybe he and Maxwell weren’t meant to be.

That thought struck a chord in Bob, and he physically winced at it. Maxwell was everything to him. He was the only one that ever-made Bob feel right. He pushed the thought away and tried to focus on his lover’s words. “Are you even listening to me?”

Bob shook his head to clear it. “Yes, sorry.”

“You seem a bit…off lately.”

Bob sighed, “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just work ya know?”

“I do, but it seems like more than that.” Maxwell bit his lip, obviously refraining from saying something.

“What?” Bob’s words were harsh, and he regretted the tone immediately.

“It’s just that you don’t act like yourself anymore. Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

Bob was exasperated with himself at this point. Not only had he failed to propose to the man he loves, but he made the man he loves doubt their relationship.

Bob couldn’t even begin to explain his feelings to Max, so he just settled for, “No. I’m fine, I told you, it’s just work.”

Maxwell sat back. “Yeah sure.” Sarcasm was bitterly woven through the vowels.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me the truth!” Maxwell snapped, he looked regretful, but offered no apology. Bob just sat there, shocked at the tone, and frozen in place. He didn’t know what to say.

Apparently, this was the wrong answer, because Maxwell got up and started walking away from him. As if to emphasize this fight, rain suddenly began to pour down on the two of them. Bob squinted as he looked up to the sky and screamed, “No. I don’t believe it. You’re wrong.”

He probably looked insane, yelling up at the sky, but it made perfect sense to him. If the universe didn’t think that he and Maxwell should be together, then fuck the universe.

Bob ran after his boyfriend, hardly noticing the state of his clothes. He grabbed Maxwell’s arm, who tried to wrench it away, but Bob held fast.

“Let me go, Chris.”

Bob took one look in his eyes as the rain came pouring down all around them, and he knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for. “Marry me.”

Maxwell stepped back. “What?”

Bob smiled widely and said it again. “Marry me.” A wary look from Maxwell made him realize how strange he must look, so he fumbled around in his pockets for a second before kneeling. “Marry me.”

Maxwell looked at him bewildered, and for a split-second Bob thought he must have gotten it wrong, but just as the silence began to get uncomfortable, a smile broke out on his face. He pulled Bob up by his soaked shirt into a kiss. Rain was falling all around them, and Bob knew he would never be able to wear these shoes again; his body was cold, and his hands were clammy, and it was nothing like he had planned it, but it was perfect. And the ring fit perfectly on Maxwell’s finger.

[peacenik0]

Prompt 12

Happy 25th Anniversary to my favorite duo! Drink some really expensive Merlot for me!

Now here’s some smut!

ON THE CLOCK

by Peacnik0

As promised a whole lot of NSFW, and a whole lot of NC-17

tagging @today-in-fic

Read part one here

Summary: Mulder is on the clock to get laid, and not everything is going according to plan. 

—

previously on “On the Clock”

“Yes, Scully, it’s me.” he holds his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t shoot me again!” Mulder says in exasperation. “Can’t I do something nice for you once in awhile?”

“ Not without arousing my suspicion,” she says her hands going to her hips.

“There are other things I’d like to arouse…” he waggles his eyebrows.

“Well it must be you, because no one else would use a pick up line that awful.” Scully says with a raised eyebrow. Mulder chuckles.

“ You do have a point there, Scully. You always know me by my trademark wit,”  he smirks. Then he takes her hands in his. “You gotta give a guy a little credit though, right?”  At this Scully pulls Mulder back into her embrace.

“ No, it’s very sweet and thoughtful. And I do appreciate it.” Scully takes his face in her hands. “ Just not your usual M.O.”

“ What’s my usual M.O.?”

“ Oh, you know, a keychain, maybe some alien implants made into earrings,” she teases. But when he looks into her eyes, he sees the affection there. The air between them changes.

“ I just thought maybe that’s what you wanted. You know, a normal guy, a normal life…”

“ Oh, Mulder,” Scully reaches up on tip-toe and kisses his cheek, then his jaw. “I’m touched, really I am,” she pauses to take his hand and place is over her heart. “But I just want you the way you are.“ Then she kisses him fully. Maybe he’s not that great at telling Scully how he feels, but he can certainly show her. And he does. Maybe now they can finally give themselves to each other. The most perfect gift.

Taking her face in his hands, she opens her mouth to him. I want you, his tongue says. I want you.  

His heart is full of her.

His blood is up.

Scully moans as he backs her up against the kitchen cabinets. She fumbles to shove his trench coat from his broad shoulders. His hard length pulses against her stomach, and this seems to spur them both on. Their teeth clink together when Mulder roughly grabs her hips, and hoists her up onto the counter.

Neither of them seem to care, because they have both waited so long. Finally the time is right.

— 

Part 2

Scully attempts to quickly undo his white oxford shirt, cursing under her breath as she struggles with the buttons.

 “ Oh, I just want to rip this thing off!” she says in frustration. Yanking the offending garment from his trousers.

 “ So eager, “ he teases. Helping her by shedding the offending garment, and his undershirt all in one fell swoop.

 “I think we have both been more than patient, Mulder,” she says as he pulls her sweater over her head. Then he curses himself when his watch gets stuck in her hair.

“Ow..”

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbles into her neck.  Their noses bump as he struggles to unclasp her bra in the back. “You’re amazing,” he breathes as her breasts are finally freed. “Do you like this?” he asks before capturing her nipple between his lips.

“Yes,” she gasps as he repeats the action on the other side.

“ Bedroom,” she says, clumsily pushing his pants down with her feet.

“Yeah,” he picks her up, and she straddles his waist. His boxer clad cock finds her center as he carries her into the next room. And he moans as she grinds against him. He loves the feel of their naked chests pressing together, skin to skin. The passion between them is building to a fever pitch. They can’t stop touching each other.

Mulder feels a sense of relief when they finally make it to the bed. He lays her down, and she anxiously shimmies out of her jeans.

Kissing down her belly, he pauses to swirl his tongue around her navel.

“Is this okay?” Mulder pulls down her black cotton panties to suck on her hip bone.

“Yes, that’s nice,” Scully moans and whimpers as he nibbles her inner thighs. He keeps at it, because he more than enjoys the sounds that she is making. His erection is getting ridiculous, straining against the bed.

“ Are you opposed to…”  he kisses the top of her panties, then runs his tongue underneath the elastic. Mulder feels her body tighten.

“ You don’t have to…”

“I know. I want to though,” Mulder says taking her hand. Scully still looks a bit hesitant. “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do,” she lets out a shaky breath. “It’s just so… intimate.”

“Well aren’t we being intimate now?” Mulder asks, and she nods her answer. “Then just think of it as a kiss,“ Mulder touches the humid swath of fabric right over her outer lips. Scully bites her lip in anticipation. He pulls her panties to the side, and inhales the scent of her arousal. It feeds his own. “Like I am kissing you here.” And he dips his head down to taste her for the first time. Scully lets out an audible gasp. Mulder hums against her in response. They are both feeling hot, almost feverish with desire. Scully slides her underwear down until they hang off one ankle. “And here,” he spreads her open with two fingers, and Mulder can’t help but groan deeply at the sight of her. Her pussy is pink and pump, glistening with her arousal.  Then gently swirls just the tip of his index finger around her center. He can’t wait to pleasure her. “And here.“ His tongue traces feather light touches around her clit, but not on it. Scully moans to encourage him. So he repeats the action again, and again.

“I want you to come in my mouth.” he grunts into her slick folds.

“Oh Mulder, “ she gasps.  Scully is smooth and briny-clean against his tongue. Ever curious, he finds himself diving into her unknown swirls and eddies. Grasping his hair in her hands, pulling him closer. His face is wet with her. His own arousal is so intense, seven years of repressing his hunger for her. He’s barely holding back, and the floodgates are about to open. Swish. Swish. Flick. Suck. He finds her ancient rhythm. “Oh, oh, oh…” she keens.

“Where did you learn that?” Scully’s voice has reached  a fever pitch. Then she seems to think better of her question. “Nevermind, I don’t want to… ah.”  She throws her head back when Mulder closes his lips around her swollen bud and sucks hard. Then she comes, crashing against him.

“You’re amazing,” here says. A sense of pride and affection wells up warm and thick in his chest. Scully’s eyes find his, lighting the path to her.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she breathes. A beatific smile slides lazily onto her lips.

They kiss.

By the time they are ready to finally join together, Mulder is more than excited. The smell of her sex is all around him, still flavoring his soft palate. Mulder puts his nose in the crook of her neck smelling that familiar Scully fragrance, it was clean and perfect. She takes his face in her hands, their eyes find each other. It’s time. And they’ve waited so long, so long.

He kisses her slowly, and she reached down and positions him at her entrance. Scully sucks in a breath as he slowly, inch by delicious inch, pushes into her. He gently squeezes her hips, trying to relax her muscles. Mulder wants to tell her that he loves her, that this moment is just a culmination of everything that has come before. But he tries to say it with his eyes instead. He fills her completely. In all of his late night dreams Mulder never got this part right. It is better than anything he has ever envisioned, and he has a pretty damn good imagination.

“ So good.” he says against her mouth. They stay like this for awhile, but Scully interrupts his reverie.

“Mulder…”

“Ok, you ready?”

“Yes.”  She says with certainty. Mulder feels like he has ascended into some sort of Nirvana. What did he ever do to deserve this? He doesn’t belong in heaven. She smells so good, and she looks so beautiful. They feel so right together.

But then he sees himself in her eyes, and he knows.

So he pulls almost all the way out, then pushes back into her. And all of the sudden it hits him. This is Scully.

“Fuck,” he grunts unexpectedly spilling into her. He collapses, his nose finding her neck.What the hell just happened!? Mulder is so embarrassed, that he can’t even look at her. “God, Scully, I am so sorry,” he says softly into her ear. “I was hoping…” But then Mulder feels Scully’s chest start to rumble, and she bites her lip to suppress her laughter. He pulls up to look at her in surprise, and sees her full wide smile, and her warm eyes. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks almost mortified.

“Mul-der,” she gasps, breaking out into a full fledged giggle. He feels her inner muscles pulse around his softening cock.  “ I am so sorry. It was just so…” he thinks she stops herself from saying ‘funny’.

“Are you making fun of me?” he asks defensively. Pulling out of her, and rolling onto his side to face her.

“No, no. But you have to admit that it was rather….” she covers her mouth to keep herself from chuckling. But Mulder pulls her hand away from her face. But her laughter is infectious, and he can’t help but start to chuckle himself.

“Come on, give a guy a break…  it’s been awhile for me, and you just felt so good,” he tries to defend himself.

“Don’t you think it was it was a little silly to think our first time would be some all night affair?” she admonishes him. But Mulder now realizes that the laughter is a release, and not an indictment of his performance, or lack thereof.

“Oh so now I’m silly?” He tickles her ribs, and she playfully swats his hands away. “But honestly, Scully, I was just hoping to make it a lot better for you. This could be my only shot at this,” He gestures in between their bodies. Scully takes his hand, and kisses his knuckles.

“ Mulder!  It was a first time, not a thirtieth. And I am pretty much an expert in giving you second chances. ” she says lovingly.  “Did you really think that I was going to dismiss you after one go?” she raises an eyebrow.

“Sounds like crap when you say it,” he teases. And Mulder realizes that this is Scully, and certainly she has forgiven him for worse things. Stayed with him through death, cancer, and infertility. Through liver eating mutants and flukemen. This time he kisses her fully, making her breathless.

“ Well, I got one really good orgasm out of the deal, so I’d say not all is lost,” Scully says with a wink in her voice. “ Besides, this gives us a chance to eat some amazing Italian food.” Scully grins and rubs her hands together excitedly. “ I have a feeling you are going to need to get your strength up… for later.”

—

90 minutes later

Mulder and Scully collapse on her bed breathless and sweaty. Mulder is now infinitely more pleased with his performance the second (and now third time ) around. Scully’s face is glowing as she lies boneless on top of the duvet. She goes  to clean up in the bathroom. When she returns Scully snuggles up next to him, and sighs happily.

“Not too shabby, eh?” he says with an air of self satisfaction. 

“Hmm, I don’t know Mulder,” she shrugs. “I’d say it was satisfactory at best,” she says with a smile behind her eyes.

“Mmm, you are tough to please,” he says kissing her shoulder. “ But then again, I suppose I knew that already.” She pinches him. In retaliation he rolls on top of her and tickles her ribs mercilessly. Scully screeches.  

“Alright, alright,” she says breathlessly. “I was more than satisfied on multiple occasions.” Mulder feels positively giddy at her response.

“How about a high five then?” he asks holding his hand out to her. Scully tsks. “Come on, don’t leave me hangin’.”

“Okay fine,” she smacks his hand hard, leaving a pleasurable sting.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you agent Scully,” he whispers kissing her ear. She smiles a real genuine smile at him.

“Likewise, Mulder, likewise.” They kiss.

The end.

—-

Many thanks to @fbismostunwanted1158 for the great ideas. Also again to @storybycorey, @defnotmeyo and @darwin-xf

I hope you all enjoyed the ride. Hit me up with some sweet sweet feedback on the story!

[hannahberrie]

Everybody Talks | Chapter 8: Study Buddies

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairings: Mileven, Lumax  Rating: K WC: 8557 Summary: Mike enlists El’s help to try and figure out what happened at Jennifer Hayes’ party. 

[AO3] Chapter Selection: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7]-8-[9][10][11][12][13][14][15][Epilogue] 

Monday morning at Hawkins High, Jennifer Hayes’ party is still the only thing that everyone’s talking about. Everyone’s whispering about how crazy the whole thing was. How you just had to be there. How, after the fight died down, the cops were called and all hell had broken loose again.

The cops hadn’t been able to tell what caused the power outage, but they were able to arrest the underaged drunk kids that were stupid enough to stick around.

Evidently, they were also able to contact Mr. and Mrs. Hayes.

According to the rumors, Jennifer Hayes is now officially grounded until, like, college (news to which Will replies, voice completely flat, “Oh, no —  no more parties”).

Despite all that, the drama doesn’t stop there.

Monday afternoon, word gets around that Greg McCorkle basically had a mental breakdown in the school parking lot. Apparently, someone, at some point during the day, spray-painted some pretty colorful language onto the side of his car — no pun intended.

During lunch, most students rush outside to see it for themselves. The chaos of the all the clamor makes it nearly impossible for Mr. Coleman, the principal, to even tell what’s going on, let alone to start apprehending suspects — though, according to what he shouts as he tries to break up the crowded parking lot, he has ‘a pretty good idea’ who did it, he just has ‘to prove it.’

“Do you think he really knows?” Will asks as the guys shuffle back inside. “Who did it, I mean.”

“Nah, he’s full of shit,” Lucas scoffs.

“Almost as much shit as the ones written all over Greg McCorkle’s car,” Dustin quips, earning a gleeful round of snickers from his friends.

Later Monday afternoon, when school lets out, Mike still doesn’t know who painted Greg’s car.

At least, he doesn’t until he starts to bike home.

Mike takes a shortcut around the back of the school, as it avoids the chaos of trying to bike through a crowded parking lot filled with asshole seniors and their dangerously fast cars.

As Mike comes around the back, he hears a noise: the sound of small objects knocking into metal, their rattle echoing.

He looks over and spots someone in a gray hoodie tossing a couple cans of spray paint into the giant dumpster behind the school. They’re a little shorter than the dumpster, so they have to hop in place a little in order to successfully chuck the empty cans inside.

Mike frowns, bringing his bike to a skidding halt. He’s seen that hoodie before.

The figure turns around at the screech of his bike tires, and even though she’s standing several feet away, Mike recognizes Max at once.

Their eyes meet.

Mike’s jaw drops.

Max freezes, one last empty spray-paint can still in hand.

Mike glances at her, the dumpster, the can of spray paint, and back at her again.

Well...it’s not like it doesn’t make perfect sense.

He keeps staring, unsure of what to do.

Max looks startled, scared even, and she throws him a pleading look.

Please don’t tell.

Mike’s mouth snaps shut and he quickly gives her a reassuring smile.

Never.

Max softens, smirks, and turns to toss the last can into the dumpster.

She turns back to look at him, they exchange a single, mutual nod, Mike bikes off, and neither speaks of the incident from that day forward.

Monday night at the Wheeler’s, Mike still can’t fall asleep. Then again, he hasn’t really been able to since Saturday. Every time he closes his eyes, he’s right back in Jennifer’s suffocating, stiflingly hot living room. The fight breaks out, the lamp is thrown, and then it all comes to a screeching halt.

Over and over and over again.

Mike’s eyes open. It’s pitch black in his room, and, according to his digital alarm clock, well after midnight.

He tosses onto his side, trying to force himself to fall asleep, but it doesn’t work. His mind just keeps going back to that lamp. He can’t get the image of it — floating, defying everything that he knew about physics — out of his head.

The whole thing is just so weird and doesn’t make any sense.

Mike tosses and turns for a few more moments before giving up. He crawls down from the top of his bunk bed and starts pacing around his room, trying to get his mind working.

There had to be some kind of explanation, right? Some rational, scientific reasoning?

But—

Why did it just HOVER before falling? Why were all the lights flashing? And what was that sound?

Mike drags a hand through his hair, frowning in frustration. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

His gaze darts about his bedroom as he paces, as if he’ll find the answers to his questions hidden somewhere amongst old comic books and science fair trophies.

In a way, he does.

His eyes land on one of his most prized possessions, a framed commemorative poster for The Empire Strikes Back. His dad gave it to him for his 10th birthday, and even though Mike is sure that his mother played a big role in choosing the gift, it’s reassuring to know that there was at least one point in time in which his father acknowledged his interests.

But when Mike looks at the poster now, he’s not thinking about his dad.

The Force.

Okay, so, of course, Mike knows that the Force technically isn’t real. But what if what had happened at the party was supernatural in some other way? What if it was beyond scientific understanding?

Mike’s eyes widen as he considers this further. His pacing stops as he freezes in place, mind officially blown.

Holy shit.

He has to investigate this. He has to. But how? He needs help.

His gaze moves to his nightstand. The completed Rubik’s cube is still resting there, just as he’d left it weeks ago.

He knows exactly who’ll understand.

“Sorry guys, but I’m going to have to call off A.V. for today,” Mike tells the guys over lunch.

“But we always have A.V. Club on Tuesdays,” Will frowns, looking concerned, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything’s ok!” Mike insists, “I just…uh…”

“You just what?” Lucas asks.

“Uh…”

“Give him a minute,” Dustin smirks, “He’s gotta think of an excuse first.”

“I’m not making excuses!” Mike insists. He hesitates as he contemplates what to say, but then, remembering his cardinal rule, decides that he shouldn’t lie to his friends. “I have to go to the library after school.”

“Why?!” Lucas exclaims, brow furrowed in confusion.

Mike shrugs. “To study.”

“Study what?”

As much as Mike values honesty, he’s not opposed to sometimes, when necessary, leaving out small details. Details that, if shared, would make his friends tease him for the rest of the day. Rest of the year, actually.  

Said details included that he was going to the library to study supernatural activity with El Hopper (who he may or may not have a crush on).

“Stuff for science,” Mike explains, which isn’t a lie, not really.

“Like what?” Dustin asks.

“Physics.”

“You’re in Biology,” Will points out.

“Well, I want to study physics!”

“Why?” Dustin counters.

“For fun!”

“Whatever, man,” Lucas says, shaking his head. “But we need to stop slacking off. We still have to finish our Homecoming project, remember?”

At the beginning of the year, before Mr. Coleman busted them for selling test answers, he approached the A.V. Club with a request. He wanted them to make a promotional video for the homecoming football game that featured highlights from past seasons.

“If it’s good enough, we might even submit it to the local news!” He gushed excitedly.

The boys eagerly accepted the project. Considering that they had to fight to be featured in the yearbook last year, they were desperate for recognition. Plus, as Lucas had eagerly pointed out, Troy would totally lose his shit if something they made was featured on the news.

Now, it’s over a month later and, after long hours of sorting through endless film reels of nothing but football, the boys’ passion for the project is pretty much shot. The homecoming football game is only two weeks away, and yet they still haven’t even come close to finishing.

“I know,” Mike frowns, “We’ll finish it, I promise!”

“The news, Mike,” Dustin says, slapping a hand down on the lunch table for emphasis, “The. News. We’re going to be famous!”

“We’re not even going to be in it,” Will reminds him.

“Still! Everyone will see it, and then we can tell them that we made it, and then we’ll be famous.”

“Not if we don’t finish it,” Lucas reiterates.

“We will!” Mike repeats, “How about we meet tomorrow instead? Does that work?”

The other three all glance at each other before nodding approvingly.

“As long as we get it done,” Will shrugs.

“Alright, tomorrow then,” Mike says definitively. In retrospect, he could have easily kept the A.V. Club meeting and gone to the library tomorrow…

…but that would just mean another sleepless night spent tossing and turning over answers he didn’t quite have. He needs to figure things out now, before he completely loses his mind.

The conversation concludes with the ring of the school bell. As lunch ends, the cafeteria becomes a flurry of activity. The guys pack up their lunches and go their separate ways, each headed off to their 6th-period classes.

Even though Mike knows that he’s going to see El in Biology, he wants to ask her before class starts — mainly because he’s scared he’ll lose his nerve otherwise.

Even though the school hallways are as crowded as usual, Mike is still able to spot El. He recognizes her hair, slicked back as always, curling at the ends. She’s wearing the same flannel shirt that she wore when they first met in detention, though she has a different band tee paired with it.

He hasn’t talked to her since their phone conversation on Sunday, a conversation that he’s admittedly played back in his head several times. It hadn’t lasted long — after El promised him that everything was okay, the conversation ended with a few offhand questions about their upcoming Biology assignments.

But still. They’d had time to talk, just the two of them, without his friends attempting to embarrass him in the background. And now, hopefully, they’ll get a second chance.

He sees her walk to her locker and start turning the padlock.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself.

Paladin, he reminds himself, trying to bolster his own confidence. He’s a leader. El believes in him.

With that in mind, Mike walks over to her, trying to look as casually suave as he can. El doesn’t see him approaching and even when he comes to a stop beside her locker, she’s still distracted with getting out her books.

Mike clears his throat. “Uh, hey!”

El glances up before jumping back slightly, looking startled. “Mike!”

“I’m sorry!” Mike apologizes hastily, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“You didn’t scare me,” El blushes, not looking directly at him.

“Well, that’s good!” Mike replies, his own cheeks starting to turn pink. “I just…uh…”

“What?” El asks, gaze meeting his. Her eyes look so much larger when they’re surrounded by the black eyeshadow she always wears. It makes her stare a little intimidating.

“I wanted to ask you something?” Mike asks, hating how pitchy his voice gets towards the end of the sentence. He can’t help it. He’s nervous. It doesn’t help that he can’t quite read her facial expression, either. He can’t tell if she’s nervous, suspicious, angry, or curious.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Mike echoes, taking another steadying breath.

He hesitantly steps closer to her. El’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t step back. Instead, she follows his lead and leans in, cheeks bright pink.

“So, do you remember how we were talking about what happened at Jennifer’s house?” Mike asks, voice low, “With the lamp?”

“Yes?” El whispers back.

“Well, I was thinking about it over the past couple days, and the whole thing just doesn’t add up, right?”

“Right,” El echoes nervously.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe, it was like, something...something...”

El eyes him. “Something...?”

“Supernatural,” Mike finishes hastily.

“Supernatural?”

“Yeah, you know, like paranormal,” Mike explains. “It means that it goes against the laws of nature, or normality.”

“I know what it means,” El defends, “I just...why are you telling me?”

“Because you’re the only one that believes me!” Mike reminds her, “All my other friends think that I was just seeing things.”

“But you...weren’t,” El says carefully.

“Exactly! But I need to prove it! I wanna do some research and see if I can dig up any more information about stuff like this. You know, like weird stuff.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah! So, I was hoping, that maybe, if you’re free, we could go to the library after school today?” Mike asks, voice getting a little pitchy again. It’s starting to get embarrassing how nervous he sounds. “I mean, only if you want to, that is. I just thought it’d be nice to have someone else there to help and talk things through with.”

El hesitates. “I’m not sure,” she says, looking away.

“Please?” Mike pouts, giving her what was hopefully his best puppy-dog eyes.

El blushes. “I guess so,” she relents shyly.

“Awesome!” Mike grins. “Why don’t you meet me at the bike rack after school gets out?”

“Okay,” El nods, cheeks still pink.

The warning bell rings and Mike realizes he doesn’t have any supplies for Biology yet.

“Aw, shit,” he groans, “I gotta run to my locker, but I’ll see you in class, okay?”

“Okay!” El repeats, and once again, he can’t quite read whether or not she’s excited or anxious. Maybe it’s a combination of both.

Either way, she agreed to spend time with him, and that alone has Mike beaming with excitement.

She said yes. She said yes and she believed him and she’s like, the coolest girl ever. He can barely believe it.

The last two classes of the day pass by in a blur. Mike spends most of them watching the clock, counting down the seconds until school lets out. When it finally does, he hurriedly packs up his things and races outside to the bike rack, not wanting to accidentally miss El.

His friends stop by to pick up their own bikes, Will to recommend some good physics books he’s heard of, and Dustin and Lucas to warn him to not get too invested in any “weird shit.”

A few minutes after they leave, El exits the school and approaches Mike.

At this point, it’s not surprising in the slightest that Mike’s heart starts doing cartwheels. He realizes that it’s a feeling he’s just going to have to get used to.

“Hey, El!” Mike says excitedly as she approaches him.

“Hi, Mike,” El murmurs, giving him a small smile.

“So, are you ready to go?”

“Go?”

“To the library?”

“Isn’t that right here? At school?”

“I was thinking,” Mike replies, flustered, “That we could go to the public library. I don’t think our school has enough books on supernatural stuff.”

“How are we going to get there?” El asks, confused.

Mike starts to blush. “I was...uh...thinking that I could bike us there?”

El blinks at him.

Oh, god. She probably thinks he’s a total wasteoid. What kind of dweeb still rode a bike around, anyway? He can’t even drive and now El probably thinks he’s completely lame for it. Why was this a good idea again?

“Or not,” Mike mutters, looking down at his feet, “I dunno, I’m sorry. I was just being weird.”

“No!” El pipes up quickly.

Mike looks back up in surprise. “No?”

“You’re not weird,” El explains, “I just didn’t know.” She moves closer to him, stopping only when she’s standing right before him.

If Mike had thought that Jennifer Hayes had this otherworldly aura, it’s nothing compared to how El makes him feel. It’s ridiculous, really, considering that she was hanging onto him for most of Saturday night, but nevertheless, when she comes to stand in front of him and cocks her head up to meet his eye, he’s completely awestruck.

“Let’s go,” El says.

“Um,” Mike replies stupidly.

El gives him a confused look, which is enough to make Mike snap out of it.

“Yes!” He bursts, blushing bright pink. “I mean, yeah, let’s get going.”

He turns and mounts his bike, then pats the back of the seat, inviting El to get behind him.

She does. It’s a tight fit, especially since they’re both wearing backpacks and Mike’s bike is already on the smaller side, but they manage to make it work. As she situates herself on the seat behind him, her torso presses into him, her arms wrap around his sides, and her fingers curl into the sleeves of his navy windbreaker. Being that he’s a few inches taller than her, their size difference is noticeable even when sitting. Her head comes to a stop around his neck area, so when she speaks, her voice sounds slightly muffled.

“Ready!” She announces.

Mike nods, pretty much unable to speak at the moment. He takes off biking, making sure to keep a good balance.

The bike ride is mostly quiet, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Quite the opposite, actually. Having El snuggled up beside him is definitely the most comfortable feeling in the world. Did thinking that make him a weirdo? Probably.

The ride doesn’t take long, and within 15 minutes they come to a stop in front of the Hawkins public library.

“Sorry we had to bike,” Mike apologizes as he dismounts the bike, “Next summer, I’m gonna get my license and save up for a car.”

El gets off the bike too, tucking a strand of wind-swept hair behind her ear. “I liked the bike,” she mumbles shyly.

“Really?” Mike gapes.

El shrugs.

“Oh,” Mike blushes, “Well, that’s good, I guess.”

El smiles at him, which only causes him to blush even more. When he manages to speak again, his voice sounds embarrassingly hoarse.

“Well, let’s go inside,” He instructs.

“Right,” El replies, face falling slightly.

Mike leaves his bike tucked between some bushes before leading the way up the front steps of the library. He makes sure to dash ahead and grab the door first, holding it open for El.

“Thank you,” El replies, though she only seems partly aware of what’s going on. She’s completely captivated by the impressive architecture of the library. Her gaze keeps darting about sporadically, taking it all in.

“You’re welcome,” Mike modestly replies anyway.

When they enter the library, they’re met with the distinguished smell of old wood and books that’s somehow both comforting and unpleasantly musty at the same time. Their sneakers squeak against the checkered tiled floor. This causes the librarian, seated front and center at the main desk, to look up at them, perturbed. When she recognizes Mike, however, she softens.

“Michael!” She smiles, voice hushed. “How good to see you!”

“Hey, Marissa,” Mike smiles back.

“I see you brought a friend with you,” Marissa remarks, looking over to El.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike replies, turning to El, “This is El Hopper, she’s my...uh...my—“

Somehow, ‘crush’ doesn’t seem to be the appropriate response here. Thankfully, El steps in for him.

“Friend,” She finishes, and Mike nearly dies of happiness right then and there.

Friend. They’re friends. She said it and they’re friends.

“Yeah!” Mike replies eagerly, “We’re friends!”

“Aren’t you the Chief’s daughter?” Marissa asks, looking El over.

“Yes,” El nods.

“Huh,” Marissa replies simply. She keeps giving El the look-over, and Mike can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing. Either way, he and El have business to attend to.

“Do you guys have any historical texts on any paranormal or supernaturally significant phenomena?” Mike says, trying to sound as professional as possible. In reality, he’s just throwing in as many buzzwords from Ghostbusters as possible.

Marissa eyes him. “Check the records,” she offers, motioning to the long row of filing cabinets to her left. “Maybe we’ll have something.”

“Thanks!” Mike grins.

Marissa nods and brings a finger to her lips, reminding him to stay quiet.

Mike and El walk over to the filing cabinet. It’s quite massive in scale — at least 9 compartments tall by 12 wide. Each drawer is filled with filing notes on old newspapers articles, sorted by topic and publication.

As Mike begins to scan the label of each compartment, El leans in close to him.

“How do you know her?” She whispers, glancing back at the librarian.

“Marissa?” Mike asks, to which El nods. “I’ve known her forever. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. The guys and I like to do research for our Dungeons and Dragons campaigns here. We like to make sure they’re like, super historically accurate.”

“What’s Dungeons and Dragons?”

“It’s a tabletop RPG,” Mike explains.

El’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Like, a board game,” Mike explains patiently, “Where you play as a character and get to make your own stories and stuff.”

“Oh,” El smiles understandingly, “That sounds fun.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Mike brags, “I’m the Dungeon Master, so I plan a lot of campaigns. My best one took over 10 hours to finish, it was so sweet! It took forever to plan though. I had to spend a lot of time here, to make sure all my historical weaponry was accurate and everything. Sometimes the guys come here with me and we just spend the whole day reading about random stuff.”

“I’ve never been here before,” El admits, glancing around.

“You’ve never been to the library before!?” Mike exclaims in astonishment.

El shrugs.

“How is that even possible!?”

Marissa looks up from her desk to give Mike a warning shush.

Mike and El give her apologetic smiles before turning back to each other.

“Seriously, how have you never been here?” Mike whispers.

“My Dad gets me all my books,” El whispers back, “And I don’t read a lot.”

“What do you do for fun, then?” Mike asks curiously.

El thinks for a moment. “Max and I listen to music. We go to the records store a lot. Sometimes we watch movies and TV.”

“What kinds of movies?”

El hesitates. “Halloween.”

“Isn’t that movie really scary?”

El nods. She glances around the library nervously before leaning in closer to Mike. “I hate it,” she whispers, “But don’t tell Max.”

The whole thing reminds Mike of El’s previous Star Wars confession, and he can’t help but smile.

“Okay, so, what kinds of movies do you like, then?” He asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

El bites down her on lower lip and glances up at him shyly. “Don’t laugh,” she warns him.

“I won’t!” Mike assures her.

“I like….” El replies, voice mumbled, “Sixteen Candles.”

“Sixteen Candles?!”

“…And the Breakfast Club.”  

“The Breakfast Club!?”

Marissa shushes them again, so Mike and El lower their voices.

“What?” El asks, looking worriedly at him.

“It’s nothing!” Mike insists, “I just…I didn’t know you liked that kind of stuff. Like, romance stuff.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” El inquires curiously.

“Because,” Mike hesitates, “I mean, like, just based on what most people think of you.”

“What they think of me?”

“Like, how you fit into the high school hierarchy,” Mike explains, though as soon as Dustin’s coined phrase leaves his mouth, Mike realizes how stupid he’s starting to sound.

“The hierarchy?” El echoes, brow furrowed.

Yeah, this was turning into a disaster. Mike decides to salvage the situation as best as he can by changing the subject.

“You know what, never mind, actually,” Mike quickly amends, “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

El gives him a small, albeit slightly confused, smile. “Okay.”

“Let’s just start looking for information,” Mike instructs, turning his attention back to the filing cabinet. “Why don’t you start looking through the Chicago Tribune, and I’ll take the New York Times?”

“Okay,” El mumbles, looking a little uncomfortable.

They sort through the files together. Mike pulls out anything that could even be loosely related to paranormal activity, no matter how insignificant or mundane it seems. El pulls out a few things here and there, but not many.

“Did you find anything good, yet?” Mike whispers to her as he moves onto the New York Post.

“No,” El replies quickly, shutting the compartment for the Tribune. “Just boring stuff.”

Mike eyes her. He can’t help but feel like she’s acting a little weird. Jumpy, even. But a moment later, she’s giving him a reassuring smile, coming over to help him sort through the Post, and any uneasy feeling of his is forgotten.

They pull as many files as they can. Because Marissa knows Mike so well, she knows that he’s a ‘responsible young man with a good head on his shoulders.’ Consequently, she allows the two to use the microfilm readers to examine the articles.

The readers are located in a quiet corner in the back of the library, secluded from the other patrons. Mike and El push two chairs together and get situated in front of one reader. One by one, they start going over all of the newspaper articles they picked out, eyes straining to read the inverted text.

Mike is desperate for answers, but the newspaper articles come up blank every time. It’s mostly a lot of tall tales and exaggerated ‘eye-witness’ accounts that add up to nothing more than flashy headlines.

El stays silent for most of the time, slumped back in her seat. She’s wearing her blue braided bracelet again, and as Mike quietly reads off articles to her, she absentmindedly turns it in circles around her wrist.

“I can’t find anything,” Mike scoffs after a long period of time. “It’s all nonsense.”

“Maybe we should stop,” El offers.

“No! We can’t stop!” Mike insists, turning to look at her.

“Why not?”

“Because! I need answers. We need answers. There was something strange that happened at that party, I just know it. The cops couldn’t figure out what caused the power outage — don’t you think that’s weird?”

“I don’t know,” El mumbles.

“It is!” Mike continues, “People blow fuses all the time, that shouldn’t be hard to figure out, and yet they couldn’t! They don’t know! They don’t know because it’s something they’ve never seen before, something that no one has!”

“Like what?” El asks, starting to sound agitated. Her brow is furrowed as she gives him a serious glare. “What, Mike?”

“I don’t know!” Mike exclaims, “Something beyond scientific explanation! Something paranormal, or supernatural, or telekinetic, or—“

“Stop.”

Mike looks at her indignantly. “Stop? Why?”

“Just stop!” El repeats. She takes a hesitant breath, suddenly sounding more frightened than angry.

Mike pauses, giving her a worried look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” El insists.

“Then why do you look upset?”

El shakes her head. “I’m not.”

“Okay, well, you obviously are.”

“I just—“ El stops herself and pauses for a moment, “I don’t think it’s worth it.”

“What isn’t worth it?”

El motions to the microfilm reader. “All this research for something you might not have really seen.”

“Might not have really seen?” Mike repeats, heart sinking. “I thought you said that you believed me!”

“I do!” El insists.

“It doesn’t sound like it!”

“I’m sorry!”

“So, which is it then? Do you believe me or not?”

El takes a sharp breath. Her eyes close, and for a moment Mike wonders if something is seriously wrong, but then she releases her breath and turns to look at him.

“I...I believe you, Mike,” she says slowly.

“Really?” Mike asks suspiciously.

El nods. She carefully reaches out to place her hand over his, and he’s pretty sure that his brain short circuits for a moment. With a gentle push, she moves his hand away from the microfilm reader. “It’s just...the party was bad, Mike. Really bad. I...I don’t want to remember it. Do we have to talk about it all the time?”

Mike instantly feels like an idiot.

El had just lived through what was probably the worst night of her life, and all that Mike had done for the past three days is constantly remind her of it. No wonder that she’s looked so uncomfortable this whole time!

“Oh my god,” Mike groans, moving away from her touch. He slumps back in his chair, desperately wishing he could just disappear. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” El replies quietly.

“No, it isn’t!” Mike laments, “It isn’t! That party must have been terrible for you, and I just keep talking about it, and making you think about it, and just being a total moron about it!”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still!”

Before El can respond, she’s cut off by the sound of clinking heels against the tiled floor. The two glance up to see Marissa storming over to them, looking absolutely livid.

“You two!” She snaps, hissing furiously, “What is it with all the noise?!”

Mike shrinks back in his seat. “I’m sorry!” He apologizes earnestly. “We got carried away!”

“I’m very disappointed in you, Michael,” Marissa scolds, “You know better than to make a commotion in here, and yet, I could hear you two going back and forth all the way from the front desk!”

“I’m sorry!” Mike says again. He’s not sure what else he can say.

Marissa lets out an angry huff of air before taking a deep breath. She straightens up, composes herself, and gives them both warning glares. “Keep it down,” she says gravely.

“We will!” Mike nods, “We promise!”

Marissa only gives him another serious look before turning on her heel and marching back to the front desk.

Mike waits for her to leave before turning back to El.

“That was terrifying,” he jokes, keeping his voice low.

“I should go,” El murmurs in response, not looking at him, “It’s getting late.”

Oh.

Mike’s shoulders slump as he feels an overwhelming sense of defeat. He glances out the window and is surprised to see that it is pretty late — the blue sky is fading into a deep purple hue as the streetlights flicker on. They’ve been here longer than he thought.

“Okay,” Mike mumbles. He turns to glances over at El anxiously. “Do you want me to bike you home?”

“It’s okay,” El deflects. She stands up from their table and slips her backpack over her shoulder. “My house isn’t far.”

“Are you sure? It’s kinda dark.”

She nods. “I’m fine.”

Mike frowns worriedly. “Alright, then.”

El gives him a somber, half-hearted smile. “Bye, Mike.”

Mike just nods.

She leaves then, sneakers still squeaking against the floor until she exits the building.

He’s left alone, surrounded by microfilm files, face illuminated by the glow of the reader’s screen.

Though he’s not sure what, he knows that he’s definitely screwed something up.

On Wednesday, the guys host a make-up A.V. Club meeting. As always, they meet in what has to be the smallest room at Hawkins High. The space just barely fits their film equipment, repair tools, projectors, TV, landline phone, and four desks that they’d “borrowed” from other classrooms. It’s so cramped that the room often feels like a glorified closet than anything else, but regardless, it’s theirs.

Today, the desks are situated around the TV. A recording of the Hawkins High homecoming game of ’81 is playing on the screen. It has to be the millionth VHS tape of football footage that the guys have watched — consequently, they’re all slumped back in their seats disinterestedly.

Mike is trying to remain focused, but it’s all so boring. It also doesn’t help that he can’t stop worrying about El. She hadn’t looked his way once during Biology today, and after class had ended, she’d taken off in a hurry.

Mike had considered asking Max if everything was okay, but that seemed a little too forward. Plus, despite the moment they’d shared Monday, he was 99% certain that if he whined to Max about whether or not El was mad at him, Max would laugh right in his face.

The whole thing is so complicated and confusing. Mike’s not sure what he should do about the whole situation, so he instead focuses his attention on something he does understand — A.V.

“Maybe we can use this clip,” Mike says tiredly. He leans forward, reaches out across his desk, and presses pause on the TV. “I think that might have been a good play.”

“Everyone started cheering,” Will remarks, idly drawing in his sketchbook. “So, that means it has to be good, right?”

“Who cares?” Lucas sighs, “Let’s just use it! I just want this project to be over already.”

“Why do we have to put in so many highlights?” Dustin gripes. He removes his hat with one hand and uses the other to drag his fingers through his hair. “It’s all the same. One guy passes the ball to the other, the other guy runs with it, they score a point. It’s all the same and it just doesn’t make any goddamn sense.”

“Well, we’re almost done,” Will reminds them, “We only need three more minutes of footage.”

“Did you guys know that with all the time we’ve spent watching these football tapes over the past month, we could have watched the entire Star Wars trilogy over three times?” Dustin points out, “Three times.”

“That can’t be right,” Lucas frowns, shaking his head.

“7 homecoming games, all over 3 hours each, versus 3 movies, all around 2 hours each. Do the math, I’m right.”

“You do the math!” Lucas grumbles crossly.

“I just did!”

“We should take a break,” Will suggests, turning to Mike hopefully.

“Agreed,” Mike nods, rubbing his forehead, “I think we’re all pretty tired.”

“And hungry,” Dustin adds, “I’m super hungry.”

“Then go home and eat!” Lucas mutters bitterly.

“No!” Dustin frowns, scrunching up his nose, “Do you wanna know what my mom’s making for dinner tonight? Tuna casserole. Tuna casserole, Lucas. No one likes that, it’s disgusting.”

“Some people do.”

“Who?! Name one person.”

Lucas opens his mouth to reply, only to close it a second later.

“Exactly,” Dustin says triumphantly.

“Then why don’t you go out and eat,” Lucas retorts.

“Because! No one goes out to eat alone, that’s weird.”

“It really isn’t!”

“It really is!”

“Then we’ll just go with you!” Will cuts in, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Really?” Dustin asks, looking excited.

“Really?” Lucas echoes, looking tired.

“It could be fun,” Will nods, “Right, Mike?”

Mike glances between the guys. Even though he’s still feeling a little down, a night out with his friends does seem like the perfect way to get his mind off of El.

“Why not?” He shrugs, turning off the TV. “We still have two weeks to finish this video, and it’s getting pretty late. We can go to Benny’s.”

“Mike, Will — you’re amazing, incredible,” Dustin beams, already rising out of his seat. “I owe you guys! You’ve saved me, like, seriously!”  

“That’s what friends do!” Will replies before turning to give Lucas a pointed look.

Lucas eyes Will and Dustin before allowing his shoulders to slump and his demeanor to soften. “Yeah,” he relents, offering Dustin an apologetic smile.

Mike smiles at his friends, already feeling happier. “Alright, guys, let’s get going before it gets dark out,” he instructs, getting out of his desk.

The guys nod and follow his lead. After they hastily pack up their equipment and phone their parents, they race each other outside to the bike rack. It’s around 6:00 when they finally head out. Dusk is upon them — the blue sky is slowly ebbing away into a faint orange, their breath appears as faint clouds in front of their faces.

Benny’s Burgers, located near the outskirts of town, is small and a little drab, but the boys wouldn’t trade it for the world. They’ve been coming to the diner ever since they were young. The food is not only cheap, but amazing, and the owner, Benny, is always really nice to them. It’s also nice that it’s not too far away. Tonight, the boys manage to bike there in under 25 minutes.

25 more minutes later, they’re seated inside their favorite booth, happily enjoying their bounty of burgers, curly fries, and milkshakes. They sit in their usual positions — Dustin and Lucas on one side, Mike and Will on the other. Dustin and Will are seated closest to the windows; Dustin because he enjoys people-watching, and Will because he enjoys sketching the scenery when he gets bored.

There are only a few other patrons in the restaurant, but they’re more preoccupied with chatting up the owner, Benny, as he works behind the grill. The diner is filled with the sounds of frying food, soft chatter, clattering dishes, and whatever song is playing on the radio (currently: a single from the new A-ha album).

Just like the A.V. Club room, Benny’s is a place that means something to Mike and his friends. It’s safe, it’s comfortable, it’s filled with memories, and it’s always the same.

It’s the perfect way for Mike to get his mind off of El.

At least, it is until she shows up.

“Holy shit!” Dustin suddenly cries out, peering out the window, “Is that El and Max?”

Mike nearly chokes on his curly fries. “W-what?!”

“I’m serious! I’m like, a hundred percent sure that that’s them,” Dustin continues, squinting.

“I wanna see!” Lucas says eagerly, pushing past Dustin.

The boys all cram together to look out the window, faces pressed up against the glass.

Sure enough, Mike spots El and Max in the parking lot. They’re approaching the diner at an easy pace, skateboards tucked under their arms.

“They skateboard?” Dustin exclaims, shocked.

“They’re so cool!” Lucas gushes, before quickly adding, “I mean, sort of.”

Had it been any other day, Mike probably would have been absurdly excited to see that they were here. But today, still unsure of how El feels towards him, all he feels is anxiety. For all he knows, El is never going to speak to him again, all because he wouldn’t shut up about a stupid lamp. It sucks.

“I can’t believe your girlfriend is here, Mike,” Dustin snickers giddily, “Try not to cream your pants.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Mike mutters, pouting slightly. The A-ha song that’s playing on the radio is a somber love ballad, which really isn’t helping Mike’s mood.

El is chatting with Max when she suddenly stops. Max looks back at her with confusion, but then El says something and points to a spot in the front of the diner.

The exact same spot where the boy’s bikes are parked.

Max frowns and glances around the parking lot. Then her eyes flit towards the window, she nudges El, and the next thing Mike knows, both girls are staring directly at them.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Oh my god, get down!” Dustin exclaims, eyes wide.

The boys jump back from the window and duck their heads down, each a little breathless and flustered.

“Shit, do you think they saw us!?” Lucas hisses, not daring to look back out the window.

“They looked right at us!” Dustin hisses back, “I’m pretty sure they did!”

“So? Aren’t we friends with them?” Will asks, glancing at everyone. “We all hung out at the party!”

“That was only because everyone else was drunk!” Lucas reminds him, “And Max specifically said that we weren’t friends!”  

“I don’t think she really meant that.”

“It doesn’t matter, we can’t get caught looking like creeps!” Mike insists, quickly straightening up, “Just act normal! Maybe they didn’t recognize us!”

The boys nod and follow his lead, resuming their normal seating positions.

As they all return to eating, Mike can feel his heart pounding in his chest. The drumming of his heartbeat is so loud, he’s surprised that all his friends can’t hear it. Wait. Maybe they can. Maybe they’re just not mentioning it. Oh god, what if it’s like, really loud, and then El walks in and she totally hears it and she knows how much he’s freaking out and—

His thoughts are abruptly cut off by the soft chime of the bell that hangs above the entryway door. He can hear two sets of footsteps enter, and then come closer, and then he can see Lucas’ eyes widening, and Mike’s palms are starting to sweat, and shit, this is really happening.

He glances up nervously to see Max and El walking up to the table. Max’s head is held high with confidence, while El’s is ducked down shyly.

“‘Sup, nerds,” Max says casually, coming to a stop in front of the table. Without hesitation, she slides right into Lucas and Dustin’s side of the booth and gives Lucas a punch to the arm. “Hope you don’t mind that we left our boards by your bikes.”

Lucas tries to laugh, but it comes out as nothing more than a nervous voice-crack.

Mike and El’s gazes meet.

She looks nervous, but then again, Mike knows that he does too. He’s more than nervous, actually, he’s terrified.

But then El gives him a small, soft smile, and Mike feels his heart melt because she’s so pretty and she’s smiling at him, which means that she probably doesn’t hate him for acting like a total wasteoid, right? Se forgives him.

Mike doesn’t realize that he’s been stupidly, wordlessly gazing at her this entire time until Will intervenes.

“Let her sit down,” he whispers, giving Mike a small nudge.

Oh. Right.

“D-Do you want to?” Mike hesitantly asks El.

El blushes. “I-“

“She does,” Max answers, “Believe me.”

El throws Max a dirty look before turning back to Mike and nodding appreciatively. “Yes.”

Will and Mike slide over in the booth, allowing El to squeeze in next to Mike. It’s a close fit and Mike can’t help but blush when her leg presses up against his.

“Thanks,” El murmurs to Mike.

“You’re welcome!” Mike mumbles back.

“So, um,” Dustin says, slightly squished up against the window, “Like, no offense, but why are you guys here?”

“Like, no offense,” Max replies, mimicking him, “But why were you stalking us?”

“We weren’t stalking you!” Lucas insists.

“Then why were you all looking out the window at us?”

The guys glance at each other anxiously.

“There was…” Will begins slowly.

“A…” Lucas adds.

“A really big…” Mike continues.

“Lizard,” Dustin finishes.

“A lizard?!” Everyone else echoes.

“Yeah!” Dustin continues quickly, throwing the guys a scowl. “A really big, killer lizard. Like, bigger than my head! It was running through the grass, and I spotted it, and I just thought I that I should point it out to the guys, because it looked really cool. We totally didn’t know that you girls were even there.”

It takes everything within Mike to not slap himself on the forehead.

Shockingly, the girls don’t buy it.

“Remind me to never commit a crime with you guys,” Max remarks. She reaches a hand across the table, steals a curly fry from Lucas’ basket, and starts munching away happily. “You guys are the worst liars ever.”

“Whatever,” Lucas blushes, sliding the basket of fries closer to her.

“So, uh, you guys never said why you were here?” Mike says conversationally.

“Max is teaching me to skateboard,” El explains. She tilts her neck back and points to a small, but rough-looking scrape along the underside of her chin.

“Sweet!” Dustin says, impressed.

“Are you ok?” Mike asks worriedly.

El nods modestly. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Anyway,” Max chimes in, still working on Lucas’ fries, “We got hungry, so we skated here.”

“You guys like it here too?” Will asks.

“It’s alright,” Max shrugs. She reaches into Lucas’ basket for another curly fry, only to discover that she’s eaten them all. “Shit,” she mutters, frowning at the empty basket.

“Maybe,” Dustin says, “You should order your own food.”  

Max flips him off. Dustin returns the motion. At first, Mike worries that an argument is going to break out between them, but to his surprise, their angered looks break into mutual snickering, and both look away with a smirk.

Alright, then.

“I’m hungry,” El admits. Her leg is still pressed against Mike’s, and as she talks, he can feel that she’s drumming her foot on the floor.

“You should order some food,” Mike insists to both girls, though his gaze remains mostly fixated on El.

“Fine,” Max sighs. She reaches across the table and grabs the menu that’s tucked behind a bottle of ketchup and the salt and pepper shakers. “What should I get?” She asks, giving Lucas a pointed look.

“What do you like?” Lucas asks, still blushing furiously.

“You,” El mumbles, so low that only Mike is able to hear it.

Mike lets out a bark of laughter, earning himself a series of questioning looks from everyone but El, who meets his gaze and gives him a knowing smirk.

“I think I’m just going to get a burger,” Max shrugs, passing the menu to El. “And more fries. What’d about you, El?”

“Waffles,” El says simply, not bothering to look at the menu.

“Waffles?! For dinner?” Dustin exclaims.

El gives him a stern look. “Yes.”

“Waffles sound great!” Mike pipes up eagerly. “I think I’ll get some too.”

“You already ordered a burger, though,” Will reminds him, pointing to Mike’s half-finished food.

“I’m not really in the mood for that, anymore,” Mike hastily explains.

“So, you’re just going to throw away a perfectly good burger?!” Dustin exclaims, horrified.

“That’s kind of a waste of money,” Lucas nods.

“Plus, you’re gonna get fat,” Max adds.

Mike scowls at all of them. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting waffles, I have money, and I’m not fat!”

“Mike,” El says, locking eyes with him, “It’s ok. You can have some of my waffles.”

Mike instantly feels his cheeks flush red. “Okay,” he mumbles, simmering down.

“Wow. You guys are adorable,” Max says dryly, “You know, Wheeler, El like, never shares her waffles with anyone, so this is a pretty big deal.”

“That’s not true!” El gasps, cheeks now as red as Mike’s.

Max only shrugs and smiles mischievously. “If you say so,” she says in a sing-songy voice that only makes El blush harder.

Benny approaches their table to take the girls’ orders and 15 minutes later, Max is giving some of her fries to Lucas, and El is carefully cutting her waffles into halves.

“Can I have a fry?” Dustin asks hopefully.

“Maybe you should order your own food,” Max mimics, but nevertheless, she tosses a couple fries to both him and Will.

“Here,” El says shyly, placing her waffle halves onto Mike’s plate.

“I don’t need all of this,” Mike says reluctantly.

El shrugs and gets to work on the waffles she has left, seemingly indifferent to his protests.

As they both start to eat their waffles, their elbows brush, their legs are still close together, he can smell her lavender shampoo, and it finally feels like things are okay between them again. More than okay, actually.

“So, uh, Max,” Lucas says, taking a deep breath, “Guess what?”

“What?” Max asks, eyeing him.

Lucas smiles shyly, “I beat your high score in Dig-Dug. I got 752,001.”

“Are you shitting me?” Max exclaims, jaw dropping.

“It’s true!” Mike adds, “I was there.”

“When!?”

“The same day we saw you playing at the arcade,” Mike explains, “After you left.”

“You play at the arcade?” El asks, eyes wide.

“She plays at the arcade?!” Dustin and Will echo together.

Max freezes, face growing pale. Mike can tell she’s trying to think of an excuse, and for a moment he feels bad for outing her, but at the same time, it was technically Lucas’ fault, and it was probably going to come out eventually.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” El asks concernedly.

Max hesitates. “Because…,” she finally mutters, “It’s lame.”

“It’s not lame!” El insists.

“Video games are awesome,” Dustin gushes.

“And you shouldn’t be ashamed of liking different things,” Will adds.

Max slumps back in her seat, cheeks crimson. “Whatever,” she mutters, looking slightly shy. She gives Lucas a nudge to his arm before adding, “You know this means that we’ll have to go back to the arcade so I can kick your ass, right?”

“I know,” Lucas smiles, absolutely thrilled.

“We should all go together,” Will smiles, “It’d be fun.”

“Yeah, I gotta see this for myself,” Dustin nods.

Mike glances at El just as she’s glancing back at him. “Yeah,” he says casually, “That could be fun.”

“Really fun,” El nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Tomorrow, then,” Max says definitively. “You’re going down, Sinclair.”

To quote Max, it’s not like this means they’re like, friends or anything. The rest of the night is spent placing bets on whether or not Max or Lucas will win the Dig-Dug tournament, breaking up arguments between Dustin and Max, and making jokes about how totally screwed over Jennifer Hayes is.

They’re definitely not friends, but —

They’re getting there.

[angelshits]

Mess with the wolf you mess with the pack

Warnings: swearing

A/N: so how you have you all been I know it’s been forever but I was watching game of thrones and im all caught up to date this is a pittle idea that I had and I hope you like it. This a modern au.

BEEP BEEP BEEP You groaned at the sound of your alarm clock going off indicating that summer was over. 'Freshman, your a freshman now Y/N' you thought to yourself. You opened your eyes to a pitch black room and your twin, Rickon flat on his stomach he looked like he didn't even hear the alarm. "Come on guys get up!" Your dad hollered from his room. You got up and flung open the curtains to the bright sun, just as you expected Rickon groaned and rolled over in his bed. You were the older twin by one minute and you could tell. To be honest you were kind of excited for school all your friends where going to the same school, The North High, anyway you got dressed tied your hair into a high ponytail and went down for breakfast. The third one up you meet Robb and Sansa, "morning" they both said in unison. You grabbed the cornflakes ( I'm not going to explain what you did with the cornflakes) next was Arya, Bran then Rickon. As we were already, Ned finally came down in wearing his work suit. "Alright let's go" Ned said grabbing his keys.————————————————— We all got out of the SUV grabbed out bags and went in Sansa saw Margery and ran straight to her, Robb went to Theon, Jon and his football team and there girlfriends, Bran went straight to the library to where he would probably meet Jojen and Meera, Arya stayed with Rickon and I until she saw Gendry and hot pie, you spotted your best friend, Shireen and Rickon found his friends and we went our separate ways. Thank heavens you were put into the same class's as Shireen, you knew you would make friends anyway but this made it easier, right now you were in chemistry class with Mrs. Targaryen, your last class, thank God when the bell rang you went to you locker which was, Yep you guessed it, beside Rickons. You where at your locker when coach Tormand came up to you. "You are Y/N Stark, am I right?" He asked. "Yes" you replied, "I have gone over your sports records and I found out you where captain of your soccer team your last two years in middle school and I just wanted to tell you that try outs for the team are on Friday so I hope to see you there" he gave you a smile and left. You waited for Rickon to get his things and walk out the door, you felt something was off about him. "Rick are you ok?" "Hmm" yep he was definitely off. You noticed him staring at someone, so you stood beside him and tried to find where or should I say who. "Ooh Marcella Lannister, Rickons got a crush" you sing sang, "No I don't " "uh yeah you do" "No I don't!" "Oh sure, your totally not wait for her to go 'a spider oh Rickon save me'" you twirled and pretended to faint (like Ygritte did with Jon) he caught you and rolled his eyes. And push you away.

"Y/N! Come here!" Robb yelled from down stairs. You and Robb were really close like closer than you and Rickon and ye were twins! "Yeah Robb" "you never told me coach Tormand came up to you today" Robb stated. " oh yeah he came up to me and he said that he saw that I was captain of the soccer team two years in a row and said soccer tryouts were on Friday" you explained not knowing Jon, Ygritte and Talisa was there. They all stood there in shock. "I-is that bad?" You asked. "The complete opposite Tormand does that like once every hundred years" Ygritte exaggerated. "When are you tryouts?" Jon asked. "Friday" ————————————————— Friday couldn't come any quicker and it was time for the tryouts, turns out there were about ten freshmen and everyone knew only one was going to get on. You looked up to the stands and saw Shireen, Rickon, Arya, Gendry, Robb and Talisa up there. You didn't know why they were there but it didn't bother you. It was near the end of the tryouts and now you were taken penalties against the official goalie, you were at the back of the line because of your last name you watched as most of them were saved and others going wide. You watched as the goalie saved the girl's shot that stood in front of you, you could see why she was the best goalie in the school. Now it was your turn lining up the ball you knew that she was thinking that you were going for the bottom right but that's your move you trick then and go for the opposite. You took a deep breath and ran up to the ball and just before you kicked it you switched legs and kicked the ball. The goalie dived to the right and the ball shot into the top left hand corner of the net and that was the tryouts finished. You packed up your stuff in you in the locker room and Robb, Talisa, Arya and Rickon waiting for you. “Hey guys” you beamed. “Hey” they all said in unison, “you were so good out there” Talisa announced. You gave her a warm smile. Talisa was always like the sister you never had, you loved her in every way and to be honest if her and Robb ever broke up you would be more devastated than them combined. MONDAY You where in history with Mr. Lannister (Tyrion) when the intercom came on. The announcements went on and on, but when you heard Coach Tormand came on the tuned in he went on and on you heard Robbs name a few times and that made you smile. “Now onto the soccer, the tryouts on Friday went very well and I’m very proud to say the we have a freshman on our senior team and her name is……Y/N Stark. Trainings will be on Fridays and we have our first match on Monday, that will be all”

Your eyes were wide in shock, everyone clapped and hollered “well done”. *end of the day* “MOM, DAD I MADE THE TEAM, I MADE THE TEAM!!” You jumped in joy. “That’s amazing!” Your mom exclaimed. “But not only did she make the team she made the senior team” Robb informed. *Time skip* (there is a lot of fucking time skips Jesus) It’s so close to the end of the year now only one left of school. You had won every soccer match you played and now you were preparing for the final. It was day of the final. You, Shireen and Marcella (yeah you and Marcella became really good friends) were walking down the hall when you saw Joffrey, he saw you and sniggered. “Hey!” You said. “Y/N don’t” Shireen warned, but you didn’t listen. “ if you have something to say about me say it to my face instead of saying it behind my back” you stated. “Ok I was saying that it must be annoying that you have such an annoying twin honestly I’m surprised you haven’t smacked the shit out of him but you know I’d be happy to do it for you.” He and all his ‘friends’ laughed, you let out a fake laugh and in a flash you had him against he lockers your forearm against his neck. “You touch one hair in his head, I will do what a wolves do; I will catch your sent, hunt you down and rip you throat out with my teeth because when you mess with one stark you mess with all of them, got that?” you threatened. “Go to hell” he choked out, “ oh honey where do you think I came from?” You retorted. You let him go, walked away and cursed under you breath. Joffrey glared at you as you walked down the hall. “So what are you going to do about her?” One of GID friends said. “Oh I know what I’m gonna do, I know exactly what I’m going to do.” He smiled mischievously.

“Y/N/N” you were packing your gear bag for you match. “Yes Rickie” “did you threaten Joffrey” “yes” “why” “because he was sayin’ shit he should have about my baby brother” “yeah by one minute” “but you know what?” “What?” “RUGBY TACKLE” you shouted and talked him onto his bed. Walking into your locker room was kinda intimidating seeing the girls from South high : the sand snakes, looking at you but you just ignored them and thought about the game. You tied your hair in a tight bun and slid on a Under Armour hair band. The team was lined up in the schools half zips that had a dire wolf on the back. When you walked out, you heard screams, shouts and whistles for the team. As you where in a lunge you looked up into the stands and saw the whole family even Jon and Lyanna, you saw Robb, Talisa and Theon, Shireen, Marcella, Tommand and Rickon (yes tommand and Rickon are friends) and the rest. The ref blew the whistle. ‘You can do this’ you thought. ‘Christ they play dirty’ you thought. Your thoughts where put a side when the ball was passed to you. You ran with the ball, you just passed the ball when one of the players on the opposing team shouldered you into you ribs. You fell onto you back, you heard ‘oh’s’ from the crowd. You clutched your left side with your right hand, you laid there for a few seconds catching your breath. After a few seconds you got up, the crowd cheered. The score was 3-3 there was 5 minutes left in the game the ball was passed to you once again. You could hear Robb shouting ‘go on Y/N’ you shot for the goal but just as you Kicked the ball, the player on the other team, that already had a yellow card might I add’ kicked your knee at full force. The ball hit the back of the net then the whistle was blown you had won. You screamed when yo hit the ground you were crying you looked down at you knee. Your knee was shattered, it broke the skin and the bone was visible. The medic and coach Tormand ran over to you. You breathing got faster. You shouted in agony. The next thing you knew you were being lifted onto a gurney. “I’m just going to put this over you mouth and nose and I just need you to breath normally, is that ok” you nodded. The mask was put over your face, you tilted you head to see your mother and father.

You were rushed into the hospital and straight into theatre. Ned and Catelyn Were reassured that you were gonna be ok by the nurse, the nurse said the surgery would be about two hours and were directed to the waiting room. Just a few minutes later Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon can rushing until they saw Ned and Cat, Cate was sitting down reading a magazine and Ned was on the phone probably talking to the school, a client or Lyanna. “Is she ok?” Sansa asked nervously, “she’s in surgery” Catelyn replied. They all dat down and waited. When the doctor came out and said your name they all stood up. The doctor directed your family to your room. The doctor opened the door and there you were lying on the bed still asleep from all the drugs. You leg in a cast from toe to the tip of your thigh. It was a few more hours until you woke up Robb was sitting in the chair beside your bed, you moaned and moved your head. “Hey Y/N/N, how ya feeling?” He said sweetly. “Apart from my knee and my bruised rib, I’m doing just peachy” you chuckled as well as Robb. “This is all my fault” you whispered and rubbed your face with you hands. “No it’s not” “yes it is, I may have threatened to rip Joffrey’s throat out with my teeth if he touched one hair on Rickon’s head” you laughed but clutched your side when you tempered the pain there. “Your such a twat oh my god” he laughed. “Can you blame me?” He shook his head. It was the last day of school obviously you didn’t go in you were still in hospital. When Robb went in he got a lot of ‘I hope Y/N is ok’ and ‘tell her I said congratulations’. He day was going good until he saw Joffrey. “JOFFREY BARATHEON! GET YOU BLONDE ASS OVER HERE!” Robb shouted rage clear in his voice. “Ah the young wolf” he smirked. “I know what you did to Y/N” Robb gritted. “I have no idea what your talking about” Joffrey said calmly. In a second Robb held Joffrey by the collar against the lockers. “DONT FUCKING LIE TO ME YOU LITTLE SHIT!”. Joffrey was so scared he looked like he was about to shit himself. “You did do it didn’t you.” Joffrey just stared back still Robb. “You messed with one Stark that means you messed with all of us, you lucky your not in the hospital like Y/N right now” You where lying in the hospital bed watching some scripted reality show with your mom “hah! That was so scripted” you chuckled, your text tone went off, it was a text from Robb Joffrey won’t be going near you anymore😉~Robb.

[yeahwehadatime]

Interviews: Taskmaster Series 4:

Noel Fielding:

Why did you decide to do Taskmaster?

Because I think it’s a really good show. It’s different. You get a bit tired of just doing panel shows - I love panel shows but you have to be funny sitting down for a lot of them so it’s fun when you actually get to stand up and do some stuff. Also, I really like Alex. I hosted Montreal Just for Laughs (in 2010) and he was on the bill so for a week we did a show and I got to know him then, I thought he was great. So that’s the main reason I did it. I definitely won’t watch my tasks though; I’ll watch the others.

Do you not like watching yourself?

I don’t mind it but it’s a bit weird. I don’t really any more. Unless it’s something I make – like a crafted weird narrative I’ll watch but I don’t really watch myself on panel shows. Hey, look there’s me doing what I always do, chatting away! Like an embarrassing idiot. I’ll watch this because I’m very inquisitive to know what other people did to see what happened, but I know I’ve embarrassed myself as well as surprised myself.

How have you surprised yourself?

Just by doing things I didn’t think I could do. There was a golf hole on a football pitch and I had to use a pool cue to hit a Babybel cheese and I hit it with a perfect golf swing and I don’t even play golf. They were like do you play golf? And I was like no! So that was quite surprising, I didn’t think I could do that. Maybe I’ll play when I’m older, I like the outfits! It’s sort of calming isn’t it golf. But anything that was arty or sporty I was good at and then anything that required logic or a Vulcan like mind, or maths or science I was hopeless at, which I knew!

How do you normally approach tasks – are you generally quite practical?

I’m not a good practical person but I’m quite good at problem solving I think. I’m quite good with my hands in an artistic way. I wouldn’t know how to change a plug – I could work it out I’m sure but I couldn’t put a shelf up. I’d just be like I have no idea. I’m better at model making and painting; I’ve done a lot of that stuff so I’m not scared of it. It’s confidence with everything really – if you go in thinking you’re not going to pull it off, you don’t. You have to be positive.

Which were your favourite tasks?

All the arty ones because they were a little bit like a relief. And also, because I like making stuff. I had to make a portrait out of toilet paper. The problem is for this show that as soon as you let it go, that’s when you have your best ideas. So, you’re sort of tense because often there’s a clock so you’re going what can I do, what can I do? Then as soon as they say it’s over you think I should have done that! It’s insane how your brain just relaxes. I sort of did a self-portrait of myself out of toilet paper and as soon as it finished I thought I should have called it ‘Bog- roll Noel’ but it’s just gone - they go ‘it’s done’ and you go argh! You just have to not worry about making yourself look like an idiot. They gave you lots to think about while you’re doing other things too, which I like because I meditate and I think that’s what’s quite good about meditation is that you can think about a couple of different things at the same time. So you have something brewing while you’re percolating something else. The whole point is that you’re trying to clear your mind of all the rubbish so that all the good things come out. Since I started meditating I’ve felt I can write stuff while I’m doing something else – all these ideas will come out fully-formed which my meditation teacher said would happen and I doubted her! I went I’m not going to have any good ideas anymore! But she said you’ll have more, and be able to have ideas while you’re doing other things. I didn’t believe her but now I’ve done meditation I think that’s true. I’ve been coming up with fully formed things while I’ve been doing something else, which I never was able to do. It’s quite amazing to be producing double the amount, which is still not a lot with me. I need all the help I can get!

Which task were you most frustrated by?

Oh, there were so many. The first one I did I completely panicked and got it all completely wrong. I didn’t read it properly and made a tit of myself. But once you make a tit of yourself you’ve broken the seal and it doesn’t matter, you realise it’s ok. I got really upset about the football task because I didn’t have any football boots or trainers, and I was wearing these pointy high-heeled shoes. It was really muddy so I couldn’t get the ball in the bag with the shoes I had on and I was really annoyed because I’m quite good at football. They were my last gold Terry de Havilland boots; I was like I don’t want to ruin them for this task. But I couldn’t help but get angry because I was like I can do that! It’s killing me! If you have no expectations it’s fine but it’s tough when you know you can do something.

Who do you think is your biggest competition?

Joe’s quite arty too, but then Hugh may be quite sciency, mathematical and logical. I’m pretty sure he went to Cambridge and I think maybe Mel did as well – those people with the big brains. So maybe the academic logical stuff might be better for them. Mel bakes so maybe she’s very practical. I’ve tasted her cakes, they’re good. You just don’t know how people are going to react. I heard Hugh’s quite good at football so he’ll be good at the sporty stuff. You just can’t tell can you? When someone says ‘destroy this cake in the most beautiful way possible’, how is going to Cambridge or art school going to help you? I don’t imagine that I’ve won and I’m fine with that.

What would it mean to you to win?

I don’t know! It’s a sort of weird thing to win. I’d be nicely or pleasantly surprised if I win. I am quite competitive and it’s funny because it brings out all the competitiveness in you. Because I went to art school and had exhibitions and stuff, I’m very competitive when it comes to things like that. But then the things I don’t think I can do, I’m not competitive about. When they say how many peas can you eat in a minute, I’m not going to get competitive about that. You do learn stuff too, like I dropped a bowling ball in to a bucket from the top of a ladder to create the highest splash and I realised that I could create the same splash with a golf ball. So, then it’s physics and you go I didn’t know that. But at the time you’re carrying a bowling ball up a ladder, which is obviously quite dangerous - especially for the person holding the ladder! But then you realise you could have just taken a golf ball up. You wouldn’t know unless you tried it so you’re constantly learning stuff. The tasks were funny and there was a really nice team of people who work on it so it’s like a nice family.

Are people going to see a different side to you?

Yeah because I guess the public don’t really know what you’re like. Everyone has their own persona; I was talking about this with David Mitchell and we work quite well on panel shows together because he’s quite nerdy and academic while I’m quite surreal and sort of rock and roll. We’re just completely opposed to each other so we have quite good banter. But on a panel show, it’s your character that they’re buying in to really, so that is how you get all your comedy. I guess the public have a perception of you and then they might see this and go oh right, he’s quite good at that! It’s probably why I was quite annoyed about the football because I thought that would show a different side to me rather than in gold and silver boots wearing poncy clothes. In your heart, you just want to come across as a nice person really and be upbeat about all the tasks and not moody. It’s funny though because everyone has a breaking point and I reached mine on that football field. There’s a point where you’re just knackered and it’s not that you can’t be bothered it’s just like they’ve stretched and manipulated you and fucked with you mentally and physically to the point where you literally go I’m done! It’s torture!

Do you prefer being in character?

No I don’t mind doing it as myself. You can’t be self conscious when you’re on a panel show because you’re just chatting and if you’re out of your depth on QI it doesn’t really matter if they’re talking about logarithms because you just say I don’t know anything about that. But you do feel a little bit self conscious with Taskmaster because you know they’re filming you trying to accomplish something that you don’t have the skills to accomplish, so you do feel a little bit embarrassed. But once you let that go, then you become quite childlike I think and that’s the key to it is to just have the enthusiasm and optimism of a child and be quite free with it - then it works for you. On the first day, I was really uptight about what was going to happen and then on the second day I went this should just be fun, just go with it. And then it was better and I felt quite free. It’s a really nice show because you don’t do these things anymore. You do them all the time when you’re at school and university but then you get a bit safe and you realise how safe you are. You don’t take yourself out of your comfort zone and this completely takes you out of your comfort zone, which is nice. It just makes you feel like there are a lot of things you could do. I sort of now feel like some of the things I thought I couldn’t do I should maybe have a go at. I can’t drive and maybe it will be fine and like a task. Maybe I’ll learn French because my grandma is French and I really wanted to learn it. These things that I didn’t think I was very good at because I’m not very practical like driving or good at languages – maybe I should just have a go. Because it’s kind of fun even if you don’t pull it off. What I’m really saying is that Alex changed my life. I’m going to be driving all round France next year!

(source)

[noel-fielding-web-page]

Interview with Noel Fielding

Noel Fielding says he found many of the tasks frustrating.

Why did you decide to do Taskmaster?

Because I think it's a really good show. It's different. You get a bit tired of just doing panel shows - I love panel shows but you have to be funny sitting down for a lot of them so it's fun when you actually get to stand up and do some stuff.

Also, I really like Alex. I hosted Montreal Just for Laughs [in 2010] and he was on the bill so for a week we did a show and I got to know him then, I thought he was great. So that's the main reason I did it. I definitely won't watch my tasks though; I'll watch the others.

Do you not like watching yourself?

I don't mind it but it's a bit weird. I don't really any more. Unless it's something I make - like a crafted weird narrative I'll watch but I don't really watch myself on panel shows. 'Hey, look there's me doing what I always do, chatting away! Like an embarrassing idiot.'

I'll watch this because I'm very inquisitive to know what other people did to see what happened, but I know I've embarrassed myself as well as surprised myself.

How have you surprised yourself?

Just by doing things I didn't think I could do. There was a golf hole on a football pitch and I had to use a pool cue to hit a Babybel cheese and I hit it with a perfect golf swing and I don't even play golf. They were like 'do you play golf?' And I was like 'no!' So that was quite surprising, I didn't think I could do that. Maybe I'll play when I'm older, I like the outfits!

It's sort of calming isn't it golf. But anything that was arty or sporty I was good at and then anything that required logic or a Vulcan like mind, or maths or science I was hopeless at, which I knew!

How do you normally approach tasks - are you generally quite practical?

I'm not a good practical person but I'm quite good at problem solving I think. I'm quite good with my hands in an artistic way. I wouldn't know how to change a plug - I could work it out I'm sure but I couldn't put a shelf up. I'd just be like I have no idea. I'm better at model making and painting; I've done a lot of that stuff so I'm not scared of it. It's confidence with everything really - if you go in thinking you're not going to pull it off, you don't. You have to be positive.

Which were your favourite tasks?

All the arty ones, because they were a little bit like a relief. And also, because I like making stuff. I had to make a portrait out of toilet paper. The problem is, for this show, that as soon as you let it go, that's when you have your best ideas. So, you're sort of tense because often there's a clock so you're going 'what can I do? what can I do?' Then as soon as they say it's over you think 'I should have done that!'

It's insane how your brain just relaxes. I sort of did a self-portrait of myself out of toilet paper and as soon as it finished I thought I should have called it 'Bog-roll Noel' but it's just gone - they go 'it's done' and you go 'argh!'

You just have to not worry about making yourself look like an idiot. They gave you lots to think about while you're doing other things too, which I like because I meditate and I think that's what's quite good about meditation is that you can think about a couple of different things at the same time. So you have something brewing while you're percolating something else.

The whole point is that you're trying to clear your mind of all the rubbish so that all the good things come out. Since I started meditating I've felt I can write stuff while I'm doing something else - all these ideas will come out fully-formed, which my meditation teacher said would happen, and I doubted her!

I went 'I'm not going to have any good ideas anymore!' But she said 'you'll have more, and be able to have ideas while you're doing other things'. I didn't believe her, but now I've done meditation I think that's true. I've been coming up with fully formed things while I've been doing something else, which I never was able to do. It's quite amazing to be producing double the amount, which is still not a lot with me. I need all the help I can get!

Which task were you most frustrated by?

Oh, there were so many. The first one I did I completely panicked and got it all completely wrong. I didn't read it properly and made a tit of myself. But once you make a tit of yourself you've broken the seal and it doesn't matter, you realise it's ok.

I got really upset about the football task because I didn't have any football boots or trainers, and I was wearing these pointy high-heeled shoes. It was really muddy so I couldn't get the ball in the bag with the shoes I had on and I was really annoyed because I'm quite good at football. They were my last gold Terry de Havilland boots; I was like 'I don't want to ruin them for this task'. But I couldn't help but get angry because I was like 'I can do that! It's killing me!' If you have no expectations it's fine but it's tough when you know you can do something.

Who do you think is your biggest competition?

Joe's quite arty too, but then Hugh may be quite sciency, mathematical and logical. I'm pretty sure he went to Cambridge and I think maybe Mel did as well - those people with the big brains. So maybe the academic logical stuff might be better for them. Mel bakes so maybe she's very practical. I've tasted her cakes, they're good. You just don't know how people are going to react. I heard Hugh's quite good at football so he'll be good at the sporty stuff.

You just can't tell can you? When someone says 'destroy this cake in the most beautiful way possible', how is going to Cambridge or art school going to help you? I don't imagine that I've won and I'm fine with that.

What would it mean to you to win?

I don't know! It's a sort of weird thing to win. I'd be nicely or pleasantly surprised if I win. I am quite competitive and it's funny because it brings out all the competitiveness in you. Because I went to art school and had exhibitions and stuff, I'm very competitive when it comes to things like that. But then the things I don't think I can do, I'm not competitive about. When they say 'how many peas can you eat in a minute?', I'm not going to get competitive about that.

You do learn stuff too, like I dropped a bowling ball in to a bucket from the top of a ladder to create the highest splash and I realised that I could create the same splash with a golf ball. So, then it's physics and you go 'I didn't know that'. But, at the time, you're carrying a bowling ball up a ladder, which is obviously quite dangerous - especially for the person holding the ladder! But then you realise you could have just taken a golf ball up. You wouldn't know unless you tried it so you're constantly learning stuff.

The tasks were funny and there was a really nice team of people who work on it so it's like a nice family.

Are people going to see a different side to you?

Yeah because I guess the public don't really know what you're like. Everyone has their own persona; I was talking about this with David Mitchell and we work quite well on panel shows together because he's quite nerdy and academic while I'm quite surreal and sort of rock and roll. We're just completely opposed to each other so we have quite good banter. But on a panel show, it's your character that they're buying in to really, so that is how you get all your comedy.

I guess the public have a perception of you and then they might see this and go 'oh right, he's quite good at that!' It's probably why I was quite annoyed about the football because I thought that would show a different side to me rather than in gold and silver boots wearing poncy clothes.

In your heart, you just want to come across as a nice person really and be upbeat about all the tasks and not moody. It's funny though because everyone has a breaking point and I reached mine on that football field. There's a point where you're just knackered and it's not that you can't be bothered it's just like they've stretched and manipulated you and fucked with you mentally and physically to the point where you literally go 'I'm done! It's torture!'

Do you prefer being in character?

No I don't mind doing it as myself. You can't be self conscious when you're on a panel show because you're just chatting and if you're out of your depth on QI it doesn't really matter if they're talking about logarithms because you just say 'I don't know anything about that'...

But you do feel a little bit self-conscious with Taskmaster because you know they're filming you trying to accomplish something that you don't have the skills to accomplish, so you do feel a little bit embarrassed. But once you let that go, then you become quite childlike I think and that's the key to it is to just have the enthusiasm and optimism of a child and be quite free with it - then it works for you.

On the first day, I was really uptight about what was going to happen and then on the second day I went 'this should just be fun, just go with it'. And then it was better and I felt quite free.

It's a really nice show because you don't do these things anymore. You do them all the time when you're at school and university but then you get a bit safe and you realise how safe you are. You don't take yourself out of your comfort zone and this completely takes you out of your comfort zone, which is nice. It just makes you feel like there are a lot of things you could do.

I sort of now feel like some of the things I thought I couldn't do I should maybe have a go at. I can't drive and maybe it will be fine and like a task. Maybe I'll learn French because my grandma is French and I really wanted to learn it. These things that I didn't think I was very good at because I'm not very practical like driving or good at languages - maybe I should just have a go. Because it's kind of fun even if you don't pull it off...

What I'm really saying is that Alex changed my life. I'm going to be driving all round France next year!

X

[noel-fielding-web-page]

Interviews: Taskmaster Series 4: Page 3 of 3

Noel Fielding:

Why did you decide to do Taskmaster?

Because I think it’s a really good show. It’s different. You get a bit tired of just doing panel shows - I love panel shows but you have to be funny sitting down for a lot of them so it’s fun when you actually get to stand up and do some stuff. Also, I really like Alex. I hosted Montreal Just for Laughs (in 2010) and he was on the bill so for a week we did a show and I got to know him then, I thought he was great. So that’s the main reason I did it. I definitely won’t watch my tasks though; I’ll watch the others.

Do you not like watching yourself?

I don’t mind it but it’s a bit weird. I don’t really any more. Unless it’s something I make – like a crafted weird narrative I’ll watch but I don’t really watch myself on panel shows. Hey, look there’s me doing what I always do, chatting away! Like an embarrassing idiot. I’ll watch this because I’m very inquisitive to know what other people did to see what happened, but I know I’ve embarrassed myself as well as surprised myself.

How have you surprised yourself?

Just by doing things I didn’t think I could do. There was a golf hole on a football pitch and I had to use a pool cue to hit a Babybel cheese and I hit it with a perfect golf swing and I don’t even play golf. They were like do you play golf? And I was like no! So that was quite surprising, I didn’t think I could do that. Maybe I’ll play when I’m older, I like the outfits! It’s sort of calming isn’t it golf. But anything that was arty or sporty I was good at and then anything that required logic or a Vulcan like mind, or maths or science I was hopeless at, which I knew!

How do you normally approach tasks – are you generally quite practical?

I’m not a good practical person but I’m quite good at problem solving I think. I’m quite good with my hands in an artistic way. I wouldn’t know how to change a plug – I could work it out I’m sure but I couldn’t put a shelf up. I’d just be like I have no idea. I’m better at model making and painting; I’ve done a lot of that stuff so I’m not scared of it. It’s confidence with everything really – if you go in thinking you’re not going to pull it off, you don’t. You have to be positive.

Which were your favourite tasks?

All the arty ones because they were a little bit like a relief. And also, because I like making stuff. I had to make a portrait out of toilet paper. The problem is for this show that as soon as you let it go, that’s when you have your best ideas. So, you’re sort of tense because often there’s a clock so you’re going what can I do, what can I do? Then as soon as they say it’s over you think I should have done that! It’s insane how your brain just relaxes. I sort of did a self-portrait of myself out of toilet paper and as soon as it finished I thought I should have called it ‘Bog- roll Noel’ but it’s just gone - they go ‘it’s done’ and you go argh! You just have to not worry about making yourself look like an idiot. They gave you lots to think about while you’re doing other things too, which I like because I meditate and I think that’s what’s quite good about meditation is that you can think about a couple of different things at the same time. So you have something brewing while you’re percolating something else. The whole point is that you’re trying to clear your mind of all the rubbish so that all the good things come out. Since I started meditating I’ve felt I can write stuff while I’m doing something else – all these ideas will come out fully-formed which my meditation teacher said would happen and I doubted her! I went I’m not going to have any good ideas anymore! But she said you’ll have more, and be able to have ideas while you’re doing other things. I didn’t believe her but now I’ve done meditation I think that’s true. I’ve been coming up with fully formed things while I’ve been doing something else, which I never was able to do. It’s quite amazing to be producing double the amount, which is still not a lot with me. I need all the help I can get!

Which task were you most frustrated by?

Oh, there were so many. The first one I did I completely panicked and got it all completely wrong. I didn’t read it properly and made a tit of myself. But once you make a tit of yourself you’ve broken the seal and it doesn’t matter, you realise it’s ok. I got really upset about the football task because I didn’t have any football boots or trainers, and I was wearing these pointy high-heeled shoes. It was really muddy so I couldn’t get the ball in the bag with the shoes I had on and I was really annoyed because I’m quite good at football. They were my last gold Terry de Havilland boots; I was like I don’t want to ruin them for this task. But I couldn’t help but get angry because I was like I can do that! It’s killing me! If you have no expectations it’s fine but it’s tough when you know you can do something.

Who do you think is your biggest competition?

Joe’s quite arty too, but then Hugh may be quite sciency, mathematical and logical. I’m pretty sure he went to Cambridge and I think maybe Mel did as well – those people with the big brains. So maybe the academic logical stuff might be better for them. Mel bakes so maybe she’s very practical. I’ve tasted her cakes, they’re good. You just don’t know how people are going to react. I heard Hugh’s quite good at football so he’ll be good at the sporty stuff. You just can’t tell can you? When someone says ‘destroy this cake in the most beautiful way possible’, how is going to Cambridge or art school going to help you? I don’t imagine that I’ve won and I’m fine with that.

What would it mean to you to win?

I don’t know! It’s a sort of weird thing to win. I’d be nicely or pleasantly surprised if I win. I am quite competitive and it’s funny because it brings out all the competitiveness in you. Because I went to art school and had exhibitions and stuff, I’m very competitive when it comes to things like that. But then the things I don’t think I can do, I’m not competitive about. When they say how many peas can you eat in a minute, I’m not going to get competitive about that. You do learn stuff too, like I dropped a bowling ball in to a bucket from the top of a ladder to create the highest splash and I realised that I could create the same splash with a golf ball. So, then it’s physics and you go I didn’t know that. But at the time you’re carrying a bowling ball up a ladder, which is obviously quite dangerous - especially for the person holding the ladder! But then you realise you could have just taken a golf ball up. You wouldn’t know unless you tried it so you’re constantly learning stuff. The tasks were funny and there was a really nice team of people who work on it so it’s like a nice family.

Are people going to see a different side to you?

Yeah because I guess the public don’t really know what you’re like. Everyone has their own persona; I was talking about this with David Mitchell and we work quite well on panel shows together because he’s quite nerdy and academic while I’m quite surreal and sort of rock and roll. We’re just completely opposed to each other so we have quite good banter. But on a panel show, it’s your character that they’re buying in to really, so that is how you get all your comedy. I guess the public have a perception of you and then they might see this and go oh right, he’s quite good at that! It’s probably why I was quite annoyed about the football because I thought that would show a different side to me rather than in gold and silver boots wearing poncy clothes. In your heart, you just want to come across as a nice person really and be upbeat about all the tasks and not moody. It’s funny though because everyone has a breaking point and I reached mine on that football field. There’s a point where you’re just knackered and it’s not that you can’t be bothered it’s just like they’ve stretched and manipulated you and fucked with you mentally and physically to the point where you literally go I’m done! It’s torture!

Do you prefer being in character?

No I don’t mind doing it as myself. You can’t be self conscious when you’re on a panel show because you’re just chatting and if you’re out of your depth on QI it doesn’t really matter if they’re talking about logarithms because you just say I don’t know anything about that. But you do feel a little bit self conscious with Taskmaster because you know they’re filming you trying to accomplish something that you don’t have the skills to accomplish, so you do feel a little bit embarrassed. But once you let that go, then you become quite childlike I think and that’s the key to it is to just have the enthusiasm and optimism of a child and be quite free with it - then it works for you. On the first day, I was really uptight about what was going to happen and then on the second day I went this should just be fun, just go with it. And then it was better and I felt quite free. It’s a really nice show because you don’t do these things anymore. You do them all the time when you’re at school and university but then you get a bit safe and you realise how safe you are. You don’t take yourself out of your comfort zone and this completely takes you out of your comfort zone, which is nice. It just makes you feel like there are a lot of things you could do. I sort of now feel like some of the things I thought I couldn’t do I should maybe have a go at. I can’t drive and maybe it will be fine and like a task. Maybe I’ll learn French because my grandma is French and I really wanted to learn it. These things that I didn’t think I was very good at because I’m not very practical like driving or good at languages – maybe I should just have a go. Because it’s kind of fun even if you don’t pull it off. What I’m really saying is that Alex changed my life. I’m going to be driving all round France next year!

Mel Giedroyc:

What made you decide to do Taskmaster?

I love the show. I’m a total fan of it so when the call came I was just like absolutely, of course. I was really chuffed to be asked actually. Because they have really good people of really amazing comedy pedigrees so I was very chuffed to be asked to do it.

But you’re part of that pedigree...

Well no you don’t feel that. Do you know what I mean? But it really appeals to my completely childish self, which is thinking in the 48-year-old body, that I’m still 13 or 14. It really appeals to that. But also, it’s very clever as well. The best comedy is very clever and very silly at the same time I think. And off the cuff too – we have no preparation. You literally roll up in your whatever you’ve decided to wear. You go to this funny little house in the middle of nowhere in West London, it’s like a grounds man’s cottage. And you literally have no idea what’s going to happen from task to task. It’s hilarious!

It’s going back to your comedy roots – is that part of why you wanted to do it too?

Definitely yeah. And it’s a chance to sort of let rip a bit. You’re not hampered by anything really – they’re incredibly good at just letting you do what you want to do. If there’s a task and you say look I could really do with a Gouda cheese the size of a cottage, they’ll sort it out. Somebody will have it by the afternoon. Unbelievable. Or I need to hose myself down in Horlicks while holding up an umbrella made of goose feathers; they’ll go yep absolutely fine. They’re amazing!

Are you generally quite a practical person and good at tasks?

I’m fiendishly, I’d say verging on OCD. I love doing things like folding up the washing, emptying the dishwasher, organising my stationary. I love all of that. Little practical tasks. I wouldn’t say I’m organised but I’d say in a shambolic way, I’m trying to carve my own way if you know what I mean. I sort of blow both ways; either the house is in chaos or it’s totally scarily neat as a pin. But to be honest, I do love doing chores; I’m really happy if I have a day of jobs. Oh my God. Yesterday for example I knew I had to go to parcel up some stuff, address it, take it to the post office, get a certain amount of ingredients for a particular recipe I was doing, do a few emails but that’s boring and then measure up for some shelves, which I love doing, and de-slime my youngest daughter’s dressing gown because she’d made all of this slime and got it over her dressing gown. I love stuff like that – laid out in front of you, tick it off. So this really appeals to my to my completest nature.

Which were the tasks you were most frustrated by?

Oh, there was one with 12 dogs that was really hard work. I have never owned a dog in my life. I love dogs but I have no idea how to be with them and tell them what to do. So that was absolute carnage. It was in a garden and I had to – put it this way, there was a small mat and 12 dogs and I had to corral the dogs, I won’t give you too much detail. That took absolutely hours and the dogs were just getting really bored. It took over half an hour. I think I did manage to do it but I’ll definitely lose that one.

Are you quite competitive?

Yeah! I think underneath the banter and bonhomie yes I am. But in a quite directionless way, which is not good. You need to really focus!

Which was your favourite task?

I loved the slightly show-offy ones, the theatrical ones. There was one involving majorettes which I absolutely loved. And there was one involving creating a piece of choreography, I could have done that all day, it was so much fun. Music with Alex, performance, loved it. And actually, it was really fun because some of the tasks you get to buddy up with somebody who’s in your series so Hugh Dennis and I had two days together, which was such a laugh. When you realise that there is somebody else doing as ridiculous things as you are then that just makes it really fun! We’ve met each other a few times over the years but it was really nice actually to hang out with him.

Do you think people are going to see a different side to you? It lays you bare... It does a bit actually. It certainly does, and I think the way to go in to it and you kind of learn it as you go through the tasks, you’ve just got to absolutely relax and let anything happen. And some stuff takes quite a long time for it to develop and you have that awful thing of not wanting to be boring, to fill the air space all the time, but sometimes the pauses and the length of things almost makes them. That’s what I’m hoping, clutching at straws!

Who do you think is your biggest competition?

You see I don’t know Lolly, I haven’t met her and I have a feeling that she’s going to be quite good. I’ve got a feeling about her. Desky Dennis is so competitive it’s ludicrous; I could just smell it on him. Really badly. Noel I think will pretend to be quite laid back but I reckon underneath maybe not and I don’t really know Joe that well. I can’t wait for the studios; it’s going to be mayhem. It’s so weird because we do this show and you’re in your own little bubble. So we all do the same tasks but obviously at different times so going in to the studio is going to be such a laugh because you’ll see probably five totally different ways of doing the one thing each time. I’m going to be fascinated. I think what works is a lateral brain combined with something that’s a bit off beam. Off beam + lateral = success at Taskmaster.

What would it mean to you to win?

Oh man. I’ve never won anything. I would love to win. There’s an overall winner of the series and I’m not even going to think in those terms but come on, one can dream. I’m quite pleased with one of them though. There’s a task I’ve been set involving some intricate vegetables and some celebrity autographs and I have a very strong feeling about that! I’m really pushing the boat out for that one.

How does it compare to other panel shows you’ve done?

It’s just like not work – you literally come home at the end of the day and go, am I going to get paid for that? It’s just so much fun. Quite knackering though because you actually have to use your brain. The tasks before lunch I always wanted to get over with because I get slightly ratty if I don’t eat. I literally did it so quickly. They shouted, ‘you’ve got 40 minutes!’ 10 seconds later...done. I was dying to eat. There were a few snacks involved in some of the tasks though, which is

always a joy. I like an eating task. I like a task involving some element of showbiz too, call me an old ham but anything involving a little bit of perf and I am all over it! Seriously. I’ve just thought of an outdoorsy one we did too (hands to head). Oh my gosh. I can’t believe we did that! It was involving Hugh Dennis and a large wheelie bin. Too funny.

How do you think Sue would get on?

I was talking to her about it yesterday actually. I think she would be brilliant. She’s very quick of brain; she does get bored quite easily though so the longer ones she’d have to commit. But she has a very quick brain; I think she’d do really well and really enjoy it.

The fourth series of Taskmaster starts on Dave at 9pm on Tuesday April 25.

Interviews supplied by Dave [x]