#steve parry

[metal-sludge]

You really knock me out, 'cause you're a hot rock; A number in my book of dreams.

HEAVENS EDGE | Skin to Skin (1990)

[kitsunetsuki]

Steve Hiett - Outfit by Gigi Parry (Linea Italiana 1980)

[that-one-english-nerd]

outsiders rare pairs hit DIFFERENT. like, have i always been a multi-shipper? yes, but i’ve reached a new level with this fandom‼️

[mister-mickey]

Part one of descendants 1 doodles for the au!!! Hopefully people recognize the scenes these come from 😭

[ponycurtiis]

I offer you ideas for a ballet Outsiders AU that I’m calling “Keeping you on your toes”

(also fair warning, this is based on some ballet stuff but I’m aware some stuff is unrealistic, I have done ballet and this is just for fun!)

Essentially the story is focused on Paul and Darry, but the gang will probably still be important! Everyone does ballet at a particular studio, but the socs and greasers have different ones. 

Darry and Paul are in the same academy and do the same productions, but Darry usually gets the lead roles due to his technical abilities and how the crowd just seems to love his skill under the spotlight.

Paul is more focused on perfecting his every move and conveying his feelings through his dance, and only gets gentler roles because of this.

One day Paul gets an offer from Bob, whose family runs the socs’ theater, that he could finally get the lead roles he always wanted if he sabotaged Darry’s performance and joined them.

Or in short: Fluff turns into overwhelming guilt for someone who always feels that they’re in second place.

Greaser Principal Dancers: Paul (becomes Dallas), Darry, Ponyboy, Scout, Ace, and Angela

Greaser Soloists: Johnny, Soda, Dallas (becomes Tim), Sandy, and Evie

Greaser Corps de Ballet: The rest of the greasers/hoods, including Bryon and Mark!

Soc Principal Dancers: Cherry, Bev, Marcia, Bob, Randy, Melvin (becomes Paul)

Soc Soloists: David, Gregg, Melvin, Cathy,  M&M

Soc Corps de Ballet: The rest of the socs!

Here are some character descriptions for the greasers since I don’t feel confident drawing fully fledged designs! (Darry’s and Paul’s will include extra information, but everyone else’s will just include looks/what they wear to practice! I’m still finalizing things!)

Darry: Darry is a principal dancer and is the teacher’s favorite. He is currently 19 years old, and has been doing ballet since he was 6. He has been en pointe when he was 12 years old, and loves the class dearly. He looks the same as he does in the book, with large muscles, being over 6’0, with brown hair in a cowlick and icy blue eyes. In this AU, he also has very tanned skin, freckles, looks a lot younger with softer smile lines, and several bruises and calluses from ballet. He has a wider pointe shoe that he pads with paper towels, and he breaks them in by slamming them in the door. Darry wears his usually attire, but the jeans are swapped out for shorts that are easy to move around in.

Paul: Paul is the other male principal dancer and is the teacher’s last choice when choosing between them. He is currently 19 like Darry, and has also been in ballet since he was 6, and en pointe at 12. Paul has a much lighter tan than Darry, but generally follows his book description. He is a tall, muscular blonde man standing at 6’0, with darker blue eyes. He has similar calluses and bruises to Darry, but he doesn’t take as good care of them as Darry does. His pointe shoes are also wide, but he breaks them in by stepping on them with his heel. He pads them with gel pads that his parents buy for him. Paul typically wears his letterman jacket over a grey sleeveless shirt, and sweatpants.

Ponyboy: Ponyboy is 13 and has been en pointe for 1 year. He has been doing ballet since he was 10, with his best friend, Johnny, who he follows everywhere. He has very tanned skin, dark green eyes, reddish brown hair leaning more towards red, and freckles all over his nose. Pony’s also around 5’8 and has room to grow. He usually wears black tank tops, a purple zip up hoodie, and black leggings.

Sodapop: Sodapop is 15, and has been en pointe for 3 years. Him and Steve joined together at 8 years old since Steve thought ballet was a “girl sport” and was embarrassed. Soda has the same extremely tanned skin with freckles like his brothers, but his hair is a dark blonde that lightens up in the summer. His eyes are a warm brown, and he is around 5’10. He usually wears a white shirt, red flannel, and leggings.

Johnny: Johnny is 15, and joined ballet when he was 12. He has been en pointe for 1 year. He has black hair, black eyes, and very tanned skin, much tanner than the Curtis’. He is very skinny and a little short, standing around 5’4-5’5. His arms are littered with scars, and he doesn’t properly care for his calluses or scratches at all. He usually wears a black t-shirt and athletic shorts he got from Dally.

Dallas/Dally: Dally is 16, and joined ballet when he was 13, the same time as Pony and Johnny. He’s been en pointe for 1 year as well, and could not care less about it. He has pale white skin, icy blue eyes, and very white, barely light blonde hair (including his eyelashes). He’s 6’4 and lanky, and he’s Johnny’s older brother. He wears a white tank top, black sweatpants, and a silver dogtag.

Two-bit: Two-bit is 17, and joined ballet when he was 7. He’s been en pointe for 3 years, and doesn’t give a whole lot of effort. He enjoys roles like the Rat King, and doesn’t take anything too seriously until it’s important. He has very light skin, dark red hair, freckles all over his body, and dark grey eyes. He wears a Mickey tank top and skinny pajama pants.

Steve: Steve is 16, and him and Soda joined when they were 8. He has also been en pointe for 3 years, and gets made fun of for it. He has tan skin, moles under his eye and mouth, and a gap tooth. He also has extremely curly black hair and light green eyes. He usually wears a random graphic t-shirt and basketball shorts.

Some Dancer inspirations:

Darry - Mikhail Baryshnikov in Le Corsaire

Paul - William Bracewell as The Nutcracker Prince

Bob - Mikhail Loubukhin in Romeo and Juliet (Dance of Knights)

Pony - Xavier Parish as Principe Desire im Sleeping Beauty

Johnny- Steve McRae as Prince Sigfried in Swan Lake.

If you guys have anything to share about your favs or any ideas for them in this AU, please share them! I’d love to see it!

I’ll be tagging anything related to this au as #The Outsiders KYOYT !

[superretroworld]

Mad Max (MAD MAX, 1979)

Em um futuro distópico gangues de degenerados sobre rodas com nomes excêntricos apavoram a sociedade, mas, acabam em maus lençóis ao matar a família do policial errado!

[thedigitalmuseum]

The Output: Episode 1: PEOPLE

Who are the different people involved in the new Institute for Digital Culture? What constitutes an Institute within a university in 2023? And what do we even mean by "digital culture"?

In this first episode of The Output, we're going to ponder what it means to hold so many different perspectives of what digital culture is - and what it could be - within a research environment like this one.

You'll hear contributions from university staff and associates including Steve Williams - Director of Library and Learning Services, Clarissa Wilson - PhD candidate, Andrew Fletcher - Director of Attenborough Arts Centre, Ross Parry - Professor of Museum Technology and Director of the Institute for Digital Culture, Andrew Hugill - Professor of Music and Creative Computing, Uzma Johal MBE - Co-Founder and CEO of Threshold Studios, and Dr Alberto Cossu - Lecturer in Media and Communication.

The Output is written and presented by Dr Sophie Frost and Chris Thorpe-Tracey, who also edited it. Artwork is by Matt C Stokes. The Output is a Low Rumbling production for the Institute for Digital Culture at the University of Leicester.

[newleasemusic]

Steve Balsamo shares stunning Christmas ballad, 'Snow Angels'.

Steve Balsamo shares stunning Christmas ballad, 'Snow Angels'.

STEVE BALSAMO needs no introduction to those who love great voices in the music world! Steve has toured the world, performed with and written for household names and was initially known for his superb rendition of Jesus in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’.His new single, ‘Snow Angels’ is a lush, heartfelt Christmas Pop ballad, co-written with fellow Welshman, multi-award winning…

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part I

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: slight angst

Words: 1991

In the training yard of the castle, the sound of clashing steel fills the air as the Captain of the Royal Guard, Steve Rogers, faces off against the eldest princess and heir to the Romanov kingdom, Princess Natasha. 

The sun shines on the area as the two circle each other, carefully watching the other’s movement.

Surrounding them, some of the castle’s staff and the other knights pause in their activities to watch the match with anticipation. 

The captain lunges forward first, his polished sword gleaming in the sunlight. With a swift flourish, he aims a diagonal strike at her midsection.

In response, Natasha sidesteps the attack gracefully, her own blade moving smoothly to parry his sword.

The crowd watches with rapt attention as Steve continues to press forward with additional powerful swings, but the princess evades every strike, stepping as if she were dancing.

On a particularly powerful thrust, Natasha ducks under his attack, extending her arm to him. Then with a twist of her wrist, she expertly hooks her blade around his sword’s hilt and applies pressure. Using his momentum against him, she jerks the sword out of his grasp, sending it spinning through the air. 

The blade lands with a clatter several feet away.

Then in a swift and uninterrupted motion, she hooks her leg around the back of his knee, sweeping it out from under him. 

Her sword points at the captain’s chest in victory, ending the battle, as cheers and applause erupt around them.

With a quick twirl, Natasha holds her sword behind her before extending her hand to the captain. Steve gives her a grateful smile and takes her hand as she pulls him to his feet. 

He dusts himself off before giving her an exasperated look.

“Did you really need to show me up in front of my knights?”

Natasha gives him a smirk, replying.

“Well, I have to keep you humble.” 

Captain Steve Rogers was the one who trained her and her younger sister, Yelena, ever since they were little. Years later, they have both mastered their sword and martial arts skills, becoming one of the best in the kingdom.

Glancing around, Steve gives a stern look to the surrounding knights who rush to resume their training. When he turns back to Natasha, he nods in the distance.

“Looks like you have some guests, your Highness.”

Natasha brushes her hair out of her face, turning to look at the directed area.

At the edge of the training yard, she finds you standing alongside another noble, Lady Kate Bishop. 

Kate waves excitedly at her in greeting, and the golden retriever next to her also jumps in place, matching his owner’s energy.

Visits to the castle from the two of you were not surprising. With both of your noble families having prominent positions in the kingdom, it was natural that the four of you, including Yelena, would end up forming close bonds, having known each other since you were children.

Kate is Yelena’s closest friend while you are hers.

Well, you two used to be close.

However, ever since the incident last year on the night of her birthday, you’ve kept your distance from her, only seeing or talking to her when necessary. 

Even now, Natasha can see that the only thing holding you in place is Kate’s interlocked arm in yours.

Your body is turned towards the castle, and your eyes are looking everywhere else but her.

Natasha sheaths her sword at her side and walks over to the two of you. She is knocked back slightly when the golden retriever leaps at her in greeting, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

Natasha chuckles and pets his head, “Well, hello to you too, Lucky.”

Kate’s excited energy follows, moving closer, which in turn pulls you forward also. 

“That was amazing! You have to teach me that move!”

Natasha releases the dog with a final scratch before letting him return to his owner’s side. 

“I’m sure Yelena can show it to you the next time you two practice,” she tells her.

Kate nods to herself, reminding herself to ask the younger princess about it later.

Natasha turns to you, giving you a hopeful smile.

“How have you been, Y/n?”

You give her a slight bow in acknowledgment, your eyes still averted from hers.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking, princess.”

Natasha's smile drops slightly at your neutral response. 

So far, her interactions with you have been like this, formal and distant, unlike the usual banter and casual teasing that typically characterizes your friendship.

Before she can ask anything further, Natasha notices a slight movement in your arm as you discreetly tug Kate, trying to get her attention. 

Kate turns to look at you in question and sees your pointed stare as you tilt your head subtly towards the castle.

Her mouth opens in realization, and she turns to Natasha apologetically.

“Oh, that’s right! I’m sorry, Natasha, but we have to get going. Y/n has a meeting with the queen.”

You are practically dragging her away as she finishes talking, offering Natasha a tight smile and a small farewell bow.

Natasha’s shoulders slump in despair as she watches you rush away.

It was disheartening to see her closest friend become almost like a stranger, but she can only blame that incident which caused this rift between the two of you. 

Sighing sadly, she pulls out her sword again and heads back toward the center of the area to resume her training.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha is practically sprinting to the dining hall with how fast she is walking through the hallways.

Guards and maids dodge out of her path as she rushes by, already understanding the need to hurry, judging by the time. 

As she approaches the entrance of the dining room, the guards open the doors for her to enter. Stepping into the room, she is immediately greeted by the queen’s reprimanding voice.

“You’re late, Natasha.”

Her mother, Queen Melina, sits at the head of the table while her father, King Alexei, occupies the opposite side. Yelena is positioned on the table's side facing her, subtly shaking her head in warning as her eyes gesture meaningfully toward their mother.

Natasha thinks back to how she spent the remainder of the day after her encounter with you, destroying the training dummies around the training yard in frustration.

By the time she realized how long she’d been training, the sun had already set. 

Deciding there was no point in making up an excuse, she settled with the truth.

“I lost track of the time,” she replies.

In response, Queen Melina nods at the chair closest to her, indicating for her to have a seat. 

When Natasha sits down, a member of the kitchen staff places a plate of dinner in front of her before stepping away.

In an attempt to break the tension, King Alexei claps his hands together and exclaims joyfully.

“Great, the family’s all here! Let’s eat!”

The members of the royal family start eating their meals, except for Queen Melina, who instead turns her attention to Natasha.

“I heard that you were at the courtyard today, training with the royal guards.”

“I was,” Natasha responds casually.

“What about your studies?”

“I already finished them all.”

“If you had told me earlier, I could have given you the next part of your lessons,” Melina admonishes before continuing her lecture. “You are about to be crowned soon as the next ruler of the kingdom. There’s always more that you can learn.”

A small snicker from Yelena catches Melina’s attention, causing her to direct her lecturing tone to the younger princess.

“And you should not laugh at your sister. At least she finished her studies. I heard that you didn't even show up for your lessons. Where exactly were you all day?”

Yelena shrugs nonchalantly before looking down next to her chair at the Akita dog eating from her bowl.

“Fanny wanted to go out for a run, so we spent the day out in the fields.”

At the sound of her name, the dog looks up attentively.

In response, Yelena gives her a gentle scratch on the head, before turning the dog's face toward her mother.

“You can’t say no to this face,” Yelena coos. 

Melina gives the two of them a deadpan look before shifting her gaze forward to her husband.

Alexei chokes on his food in slight panic when he realizes her attention has now turned to him.

“Our daughters have inherited your adventurous spirit,” Melina remarks accusingly.

“That’s my girls!” Alexei exclaims proudly before he catches the sharp glare from Melina. “I-I mean, girls, your studies and lessons come first. You know how important they are to your mother.”

Melina sighs defeatedly, shaking her head at his poor attempt at scolding. She returns her attention back to her eldest daughter.

“I have scheduled several meetings for you this week, Natasha. They’re with the daughters from some of the noble houses, so be sure not to miss any.”

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Natasha brings her cup up for a drink as she asks for more information.

“What are the meetings for?”

“To find you a partner, of course.”

Natasha spits out her drink in surprise, coughing as she reaches for a napkin.

“Mind your manners, Natasha,” Melina chastises.

Ignoring her mother's reprimand, Natasha exclaims in outrage.

“Why am I looking for a partner?!” 

Unfazed by her tone, Melina answers her question with a serious expression, “Taking on the responsibilities of the kingdom is a lot for one person. You should have someone at your side.” 

Natasha makes a sound of disagreement and gestures at her in accusation.

“A couple of months ago, you told me that I was fully prepared to take over the throne,” she reminds her mother. “You’ve never mentioned that I needed to have someone back then!” 

“Well, that was before I realized that you have obviously made no attempt at looking for a potential partner. So I took the liberty to invite these lovely candidates to help you get started, and you will meet with them.”

Natasha huffs and crosses her arms, shaking her head in disbelief.

Seeing her reluctance, Melina continues, declaring, “If you cannot find someone by the time of your coronation, your father and I will choose one for you.” 

Natasha’s eyes widen, and her mouth hangs open in shock at her words.

This was not fair.

Throughout her life, her parents have never shown interest in her romantic relationships before. Suddenly, they decide that she is not capable of taking over the kingdom unless she has someone by her side. 

As Natasha tries to come up with a way so that she can get herself out of this situation, an idea comes to her mind.

“What if I’m already in a relationship with someone?” Natasha asks.

Three sets of eyes stare at her with varying looks of disbelief on their faces.

Yelena speaks up first, giving her a skeptical look.

“Nat, you’re popular throughout the kingdom, but the truth is, you spend more time with your sword than you do holding a lady's hand.”

Natasha subtly kicks her sister under the table in response to her comment, causing her to curse in pain. 

“Watch your language, Yelena,” Melina reprimands her before resting her clasped hands on the table and focusing on Natasha. “But she’s not wrong. I have not seen you romantically close with anyone,” she points out accusingly.

Without hesitation, Natasha smoothly lies, “We’ve been meeting in secret.”

Melina examines her critically, and she matches her mother's intense stare.

When Natasha’s gaze doesn’t waver, Melina relaxes her posture and relents. 

“Alright then, if you could tell me who you are in a relationship with, I will cancel all of the meetings.” 

The name rolls off naturally on her tongue before Natasha can even stop herself.

“Lady Y/n Dreykov. I’m in a relationship with Y/n.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

[elfwitchtrickster]

Combat Training - Loki x reader oneshot

Summary: Loki and the reader are paired up for combat training

Loki reluctantly lined up with the other avengers as Steve and Natasha stood in front of them. "Welcome back to your weekly combat training" Steve announced. "Since we spent the last three weeks covering different attack strategies I figured this week we can just practise sparring which will give you a chance to revise everything you've learnt" he said, Loki fought the urge to shape-shift into Steve and mock the patriotic hero. "Alright so we're

gonna pair you up and we can get to work" Natasha said clapping her hands. They walked along the line pairing up the superheroes, Loki zoned out as he impatiently waited for his turn. "Okay and Loki I'm gonna have you with Y/N"

Steve said, gesturing down the line. Loki raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name and leaned forward to see who Steve was pointing at.

There was a large variety of superheroes at the compound, in different sizes shapes and forms yet what Loki saw before him was certainly unexpected. Smiling at him from down the line was a short, dark clad woman with H/C hair. A smirk grew on his face as he looked his opponent up and down. He would defeat this tiny mortal in less than a minute and he wouldn't even have to mess up his hair he thought snidely. She stepped forward when Steve introduced her. "Y/N is a stealth and intelligence officer so she's here for her monthly mandatory training session" he explained. Loki nodded already bored even though they hadn't even started.

Eventually they walked off, Y/N finding an empty space on the padded floor. Loki followed her with a mischievous smile. She shifted into a fighting stance and waited for Loki to make the first move. He sighed in an exasperated way and stepped forward opting for a swift punch. To his surprise before his fist made contact she had moved to the side. Unfazed he tried again this time trying to knock her off balance but once again, she evaded his attempt. Loki stopped an expression of shock from crossing his face. She had simply gotten lucky he told himself and now moved in for a much more complex manoeuvre that would end with her on the ground. He managed to successfully lift her into the air and bring her back down, but before he could secure her place on the mat she had wriggled out of his grip. Loki huffed in annoyance and Y/N smiled cheekily, the action only irritated the God of Mischief more as he squared up for another attack.

After several more attempts Loki's hair was falling over his face as he pushed himself back to a standing position. While Y/N had not achieved a completed attack against Loki, she had managed to escape all of his. Loki was practically boiling at this point, his frustration threatening to boil over and explode on the smaller girl. The whole time Y/N giggled each time she dodged a punch which only added to the god's vexation. Thankfully, she asked for a water break which allowed Loki to have a minute to himself. He took a deep breath in, in an effort to calm himself, breathing out slowly. 'It's just like a training session in Asgard' he murmured quietly. 'You're having fun'

When they returned to sparring Loki's attitude change could not have been more drastic. While on the surface he continued to act disinterested or annoyed at her countless parries, he secretly found himself enjoying it. He had never contended with someone who had such a unique fighting style and it intrigued the god greatly. In fact as they went back and forth he couldn't help the smile the crept onto his face. As he examined Y/N's movements he tried to ignore the warm sensation in his chest that came with each of her giggles. If it wasn't for his ego he might have considered letting her win a round.

Finally Loki glanced at the clock realising they only had a few more minutes. Some of the other pairs were beginning to shake hands and walk off the mats but lucky for him, Y/N hadn't realised yet. He had to act fast so he tapped into his more magical strategies. He used his powers to temporarily freeze her in place and once he managed to get ahold of her, he pinned the girl against the wall. She gasped as his hands held hers together above her head, pressing them against the wall. It was then that Loki realised just how close they were. His chests heaved, up and down, he was sure Y/N could feel his breath fanning her face. When he looked down at her she had a stunned expression which he met with his signature smirk. It took a moment for her to recover but once she did, she smiled back at him. Loki found himself being drawn to Y/N leaning in, he caught sight of her lips below his. He felt the softness of her skin and the warmth of her touch, the intensity of her gaze almost made him melt. His lips just seconds away, his eyes fluttered closed before

A piercing whistle met his ears, making both of them flinch. "Let's go reindeer games, you can practice more next week" Stark said pointing to his watch. Loki reluctantly let go of her hands and moved back, allowing her to step off of the wall. "We will continue this some other time" he said, winking before he walked off. As he turned back to look at her one last time he saw the pink hue that had covered her cheeks and the wide grin she sported. She waved at him and Loki exited the gym, eagerly anticipating their next meeting

I know this was short but whatever

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

To the victor the spoils

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Enemies to lovers

Rated: T

CW: light blood and violence; steamy kissing; very light dubcon if you squint (they're actually both super into it, I promise)

Tags: Fantasy AU; Magic AU; Guard!Steve; Thief!Eddie; Sexual tension; Flirting; Fighting; First kiss

Notes: Thought that kiss was hot in writing? Wait until you see it! @house-of-the-moving-image did an entire mini comic!

In the end, it’s just the two of them again. 

Steve jumps over another groaning pile of half-conscious guards and bursts out onto the roof, cold night air slapping him in the face and making the cape of his uniform whip. 

“Munson!” he barks. 

He is standing by the edge of the roof, a black cut-out against the starlit sky. As Steve stalks closer, he can see the smile curling at his lips, the amusement glinting in those dark eyes. 

“Stevie,” he greets, like they’re two acquaintances who’ve just met on the market square - not the new Captain of the Guard and the city’s most wanted criminal. “My, don’cha look strapping in the new get-up. Congrats, I bet daddy’s mighty proud.” 

“Shut it,” Steve growls, ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes linger on his golden breastplate, the way it makes a treacherous heat prickle at his neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now give it back!” 

He jerks his head at the necklace clutched in one black-gloved hand. Eddie pouts. 

“Don’t wanna. It’s shiny.” 

Steve groans. It’s like talking to a five-year-old. A five-year old clad in black armor who’s versed in combat magic. 

“It is a priceless magic artifact that’s been in Lord Carver's family for generations-” 

“Yeah, and what a load of good they’ve done with it,” Eddie sneers. “High time it got into the hands of someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” 

“Oh, and that someone would be you?” 

“Look at you,” Eddie winks. “Pretty and clever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta-” 

“You’re not going anywhere!” Steve snaps. His sword slides out with a high, metallic sound. 

Eddie raises his hands. “Woah, big boy. Careful now, you don’t wanna-” 

Steve roars and lunges. 

Eddie skips out of reach, but not quite fast enough. A lock of curly hair floats to the ground. 

“Oh sweetheart, you're gonna regret this,” Eddie purrs. 

And all hell breaks loose. 

The air crackles with the taste of ozone, a blinding light erupts from the artifact, and Steve just barely manages to parry. Something whirrs through the air, glides off his blade and a sharp, hot pain explodes all over the side of his face. Something warm trickles down his cheek. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie whoops and comes flying at him, giant shards of solid magic whirling around him, eyes eerily alight with their glow. “That's what I'm talking about!” 

The world blurs into a frenzy of movement and adrenaline. Attack and parry, dive for cover behind the towers and turrets and battlements of the roof, attack again. It’s almost comforting in its familiarity, this dance of theirs. Steve knows all of Eddie’s little quirks, the subtle twitches of his face that indicate his attacks before they actually come. They’ve done this so often, he can read him like an open book. 

The problem is, Eddie knows him just as intimately. Steve screams with rage, forces his aching limbs to go faster, harder, but it’s no use. Every blow that he tries to land, Eddie blocks, every twist and turn he makes, Eddie’s already there, always with that infuriating, dimpled grin, that amused little quirk of his brow. 

Until Steve’s foot lands on a wet patch of moss and he slips. 

It all goes so fast he has no time to be terrified - just feels the horrible sense of vertigo as the world tilts and the cobbled street jumps at him. Then, before he can so much as scream, there's arms wrapping around him and he's being hauled backwards, back pressed flush against another body. His blade goes clattering into the shadows.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckles into his ear. Steve can feel his chest rising and falling with exertion, can feel his hot breath clouding against the shell of his ear. “Thought I told you not to fall for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, tries to struggle free, but Eddie has one arm around his chest, the other flush against the hollow of his throat, and he can't go anywhere. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.” 

“Oh, do I?" Eddie’s lips twitch into a smirk against the nape of his neck. “Then why were you holding back?” 

“Fuck you!” he grits out, but all it earns him is a low tut. “Now release me.”

“What, without a reward?” Eddie’s voice tingles down his spine, sweet and potent like poisoned mead. “You know how I am about pretty things. And you wouldn't wanna deny the victor his spoils, would you?” 

“Asshole!” Humiliation coils hot and heavy in Steve’s abdomen. “Stop joking and-” 

Eddie snarls against his ear. “I've told you a million times, honey. I'm not joking.” 

Steve’s world spins again, breath punched clean from his lungs as he is flipped around and slammed against the nearest wall. Eddie doesn’t leave him any time to recover, just surges in with a hungry growl and crashes their lips together. When Steve tries to struggle, he bites down on his bottom lip, uses the pained gasp it earns him to lick into his mouth. 

Someone moans, but it takes Eddie running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and pushing a leg between his thighs before the sound tumbles out again and Steve recognizes his own voice. They only break apart when they run out of air, both flushed and struggling for breath. 

And that is when the door to the roof slams open and Lord Carver and his men push through. 

“He went this way! Seize him!”

Eddie lets out an annoyed huff and leans in for one last peck against Steve’s lips. 

“Sorry, darling. Gotta go, y'know how it is. See you next time.” 

He steps out of his space and the night air hits Steve like a bucket of ice water. Eddie winks at him and steps over the edge of the roof. 

By the time Carver and his guards arrive, the night has long swallowed him.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

[actualbuckybames]

Another scene from that fic I haven't posted. Excerpt of this scene under the cut

---

Bucky falls the instant he steps inside the facility. Vertigo takes hold and then he’s falling, falling away from himself and away from the howling storm trying to tear him apart. He falls and the Soldier weathers the storm, the memories hitting him like hail. It’s just pain. Pain and noise. He’s done more under worse conditions.

He takes the pain and burns it like fuel as he plunges into the depths, puts the noise where it can’t disrupt his focus. The mission is to confirm this facility’s purpose and purge it. No prisoners. As always, no survivors.

A quarter of them try to fight. They die.

A quarter of them try to run. They die.

The rest beg for their lives. They die.

The last makes a stand in the bare concrete room housing the cryo unit. He manages to separate the Soldier from his guns with a kind of stun baton that leaves the metal arm jolting and uncooperative, but on his next lunge, the Soldier grabs the baton halfway down the shaft with his right hand and crushes it.

His left arm resets and locks in for a punch that sends the man crashing into the cryo pod. Though blood streams from his nose, he fumbles at his waist and unsheathes a knife. The Soldier almost smiles. When the Soldier draws one of the tantos from his back, the man pales. He’s fast enough to dodge when the Soldier whips it at his head and just barely quick enough to catch the second tanto on his own blade when the Soldier closes the gap.

Caught up in the flurry of blows, the Soldier lets the grin twist his lips under his mask. This man is good. Very, very good. As good as anyone can get with unmodified flesh and bone.

But he is unmodified. Sweat gleams on his face and he pants with each lunge, parry, and dodge. The Soldier feels no exhaustion and gives no quarter, chasing him around the small space and ensuring he never has any delusions of reaching the door.

For a minute, the man thinks he’s holding his own. The Soldier lets him think that. It feels good to stretch these muscles, to wield a knife in a way he hasn’t since fighting Captain America—

Fighting Steve—

“Перешеек,” the man gasps, and the Soldier freezes. That is what that word means: silence and stillness. The land between shifting waters, immovable and eternal. His muscles lock. The arm’s plates lock. Everything locks and his thoughts break against his body in waves.

The man doubles over with his hands on his knees and heaves for breath. Drops of sweat splatter on the floor, joining the blood he’s shed from the dozen small cuts the Soldier has inflicted on him over the course of their fight.

They’re fighting. Right. But the man said перешеек—he’s a handler. The Soldier obeys the handler.

“Fuck,” the man straightens and glares at the Soldier, “you are fucking terrifying.”

The Soldier cannot respond, but his muscles are starting to itch with a need to move. There is a headache crawling out from the base of his skull with a sound like a scream.

“You killed all of them, didn’t you?” He peers past the Soldier, towards the door. “I don’t understand why they keep saying to bring you back alive. You’re not worth this.”

He knows: the knife in his hand belongs in the man’s eye, in his brain. But перешеек holds him fast. Can’t disobey the handler. Can’t move. Can’t do anything other than watch as the handler steps close and lines up his own knife.

“Fuck that,” the man says, face contorting in anger. “Fuck you.”

He drives the knife into the Soldier’s chest.

Pain crashes through the Soldier’s mind in a tsunami that rips away the shackles of перешеек. Clarity, as it always does even without the burn of electricity, follows in its wake: this man isn’t his handler. He doesn’t have authority to override the mission. The mission is to take no prisoners and leave no survivors and he is still alive.

The Soldier’s left hand slams into the man’s chest and throws him back. Something cracks on impact; a rib, from the man’s grunt and subsequent gasp. With his right hand, the Soldier rips the knife out of his chest. The man’s next sound of pain is cut off by that knife when Soldier drives up into his brain through the fleshy underside of his jaw. A puppet with its strings cut, the man crumples and the Soldier lets him fall. Even lets him keep the knife.

For just a moment, the room is silent, no more echoes of combat bouncing off its bare gray walls. The Soldier’s breathing is the loudest sound.

He spares the next moment to examine the tear in his jacket. The wound beneath is bleeding heavily from him pulling the knife out but, upon inspection, it shows itself to be narrow and small. At the angle he struck at, the blade must have hit bone, to be stopped from going any deeper. Or the man underestimated the Soldier’s muscle density and the force required to rip through it.

The wound requires cleaning, but he halts his steps toward the exit and the medical supplies beyond when a quiet beep reaches his ears. It’s a sound he knows, a sound deeper than anything a knife can reach. He turns and faces the cryo pod. The beep comes again. Underneath it is the soft hiss of air through narrow tubes. His left hand twitches and he crosses the room in three long strides.

There’s a man in the cryo pod. That doesn’t make sense; this is the Soldier’s pod, even if he has no intention of using it ever again.

He wipes at the fog on the small window and frowns at the pale, gaunt face framed with ice crystals that rests on the other side. That frown deepens when the face and its tousled blond hair tugs at frosted strings of memory in his mind. As the monitor beeps a soft and infrequent report on the man’s vitals, recognition gives way to vertigo and the Soldier—no, no, James, Bucky, my name is Bucky—nearly collapses against the pod. Frigid metal bites into what little exposed skin makes contact but he doesn’t feel it because his eyes are fixed on Steve. Steve, who’s stuck in the pod. Steve, who’s stripped of his serum and small and week and frozen. Steve, whose vitals are sounding off ever slower while Bucky’s own heartbeat thunders in his ears.

GET HIM OUT. The order screams through his thoughts and tears up everything else on its way. He’s slamming his fist on the emergency release before he even thinks to move. But the pod doesn’t open. Doesn’t open when he hits the release again. Doesn’t open when he tries the actual command sequence for defrosting. Doesn’t open when he slams his fist into it with a shout. And still Steve's vitals are slowing.

Static bites at his focus and black creeps in at the edges of his vision. All he can see is the cryo chamber. Steve. Steve. That cold—he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. It never leaves. It’s enough to kill Stevie. More than enough.

God, he might already be dead. When was the last beep?

“Stay with me,” he begs the silent figure while he claws at every seam in the pod, hunting for purchase. “Don’t you dare quit, you’re too stubborn to stop now, you hear me? Too stubborn by half. Stay with me, don’t leave.”

He hasn’t heard a beep in—

In—

His metal hand smashes into the side of the pod, denting the metal enough to expose a lip he can fasten his fingers around. He rips the panel away with a roar but it’s just an exterior support. There are so many more. So many.

He’s yelling at Steve, now, so Steve can hear him over the sound of Bucky tearing apart the pod. Screaming for him to stay, to wake up, to stay god please stay, because the monitor isn’t beeping anymore and—

The last hinge gives way with a shriek and the pod door goes crashing across the room. Searingly cold air blasts over him, forcing his eyes into a squint, but he reaches in blindly with his left hand and finds—

Nothing. The pod is empty. Blinking away tears, he stares at the unoccupied restraints in mute confusion, the adrenaline pumping through his veins only making that confusion spiral faster as frigid mist spreads across the floor. A blink and that mist is gone. The cold is gone.

A glance to the right: no vitals monitor. A glance back at the pod: no Steve.

There’s blood roaring in his ears, the ground is swaying under his feet, he can’t get enough air, and he's falling.

---

He comes to after a few seconds, finding himself sprawled on his right side. Another few seconds pass before he pieces together what happened and why his right shoulder and head ache. The wound in his chest is still bleeding. It’s the easiest thing to focus on with his mind fogged by confusion and pain.

Thick drops of blood pool around the fingers of his hand when he brings it near and then fall to the floor. He watches them, transfixed. And then notes how bright red his blood is. A good sign.

With a bit of effort, he gets his left hand braced against the floor in front of him and, fingers scraping on the concrete, slowly levers himself up while putting as little strain on his core as he can. He uses the cryo pod for support as he gets to his feet, leaving a bloody handprint on the metal. The front of his jacket is shiny with blood and the room spins a bit when he stands straight, but it’s manageable once he leans against the wall and takes a few measured breaths. He looks to his right; the cryo pod is empty.

Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Seven/ Part Eight (YOU ARE HERE)/ Part Nine

Ao3

Monsters aren't real.

The thing that's flying towards him is--a hallucination. A figment of Gareth's imagination.

The same way the feeling of time slowing to a crawl is just a trick of the light playing with his anxiety.

He'd be fine.

(It won't hurt.)

Gareth's limbs froze, locking him in place even as the manticore bore down on him.

Thankfully, Steve did not have that problem.

Gareth's shirt was snatched from the back, choking him as Steve yanked him out of the way.

It was just in time--the Manticore blew past seconds later, too-large body so close Gareth could feel the air move past him.

The stench was unimaginable.

A fuckload of noise exploded in Gareth's ears as time kicked back in. He fell hard, behind Steve as the older teen swung his nail bat with his left hand.

Huh. Gareth thought distantly as wood, nail and flesh connected. Steve's ambidextrous.

He never would have guessed.

Doesn't think anyone would.

(Should Gareth survive this, he will immediately tease Steve about it. Right after profusely thanking him for saving his life and having a meltdown about honest to God monsters existing in Hawkins.)

The fucker barked a noise, and the only comparable thing Gareth could relate it to was a seal--if a seal had played with some of the sound effect pedals the music store.

Maybe got run over by a car right after for good measure.

In one breath, the monsters' weird, elongated hand-paws raked lines through the floor.

In the next, a wing smashed high over Eddie's head. The finger-like claws at the crux of it pierced through Stewart's still-stuck door, balancing itself as it turned.

This brought the manticore's gore-filled hole of a mouth so close to Eddie's head Gareth thought it forfeit, and it was only Steve's interference that kept Eddie the Banished from being Eddie the Buried.

"Come on!" Steve bellowed.

He smacked the bat into the floor, as much a challenge as it was a distraction.

Thick saliva dripped to the floor in clumps as the manticore's head, a bulbous thing composed of five petal-like slices of flesh and too many teeth rattled in response.

A car horn trumpeted again--and if it was a warning it was one coming far too late.

The Manticore dropped its chest to the ground as it took the bait. A dark, black tipped scorpion tail rose over the back of the beast, stinger longer than Gareth's arm and wider than a sword.

Faster than Gareth could track, almost faster than Steve could parry, the tail lashed forward, stinger out like a lance.

(But Steve, wonderful, amazing, athletic Steve, caught and parried it with his bat.

Then and there, Gareth swore to never mock a jock, ever again.)

The bat met armored exoskeleton with a sickening crack!, the force of the hit shaking Steve's arms. His right foot slid back, biceps flexing as the stinger pushed against him, straining hard against nail and wood.

Steve grunted, shoes squeaking as he was forced to give ground, the Manticore overpowering him by the sheer strength of its tail.

The entire encounter had barely lasted a few seconds but without interference?

Steve would be thrown aside--and impaled.

Before Gareth could think about how stupid it was, he was on his feet and rushing to help.

He grabbed the fire poker off the ground and thrust it forward, towards the manticore's not-a-face.

Screamed “Go back to hell you piece of shit!” So loud his voice cracked.

It worked.

The beast flinched, tail rocketing back as it rose back up on all four paws, hissing in outrage.

Steve staggered with how fast the tail had moved, but caught himself, bat wavering in the air, and--

There was no reprieve.

No moment to breathe, because as soon as the stinger's gone there's a grotesque, hand-like paw swiping at them both.

Gareth fell back, only to realize he wasn't the target.

Steve was.

The claws flash in the flickering overhead lights and there wasn’t any time.

He's as good as dead and Gareth can't do anything to save him--

But Eddie can.

Sometime during the last few seconds, the older teen had pulled his knife. Jammed it deep into the back of the manticore's front leg, and twisted after the blade had sunk down to the hilt.

This, and the resulting aborted attack, saved Steve's life.

The thing wailed as the struck leg crumpled, sending the fucker’s head on a collision course with the floor.

Stewart's door jumped in its frame as the wing-claws, dug in deep into the wood, caught the manticore. Two flesh-petals scraped the floor, but the move kept it from falling-- at the cost of putting its full weight on the door.

A door already bowed. Hinges pre-fucked with, thanks to Eddie’s early meddling.

It didn't hold.

Hinges screamed as the wood bent, before gravity asserted itself and shattered it. Massive wood splinters shoot out in an explosion of wood, more than one piece embedding itself into the manticore.

Eddie scrambled backwards half turned to protect his head, saved from two large chunks of wood only by the grace of his thick leather jacket.

Several things happened at once.

The car outside honked a third time.

The manticore lunged.

And Eddie tripped.

One petal of teeth tore into him--a graze that left his leg a bloody mess and ripped a scream from his mouth.

Gareth and Steve both shot instinctively: Steve to attack the side of the manticore's head, Gareth to slam the fire poker into a wing.

(One second turned into three.)

The manticore in turn, leapt backwards, head shaking with the hit of Steve's bat--and Gareth had exactly one half-second to realize all they had done up until this moment was piss it off before the wing he'd struck swept out.

It struck him in the gut and Steve in the chest, sending both of them flying.

Gareth's back met the floor a second time expelling all the air from his lungs, vision going dark at the edges as his head hit the floor.

(Three seconds turned to seven.)

This time he physically couldn't move, too stunned as Eddie screamed Steve's name.

Stewart, Gareth realized, was screaming too.

(Seven seconds became eighteen, until Gareth's chest could take in air again, the loud ringing in his ears easing somewhat.)

He kept blinking, thinking the weird streaks of orange light was his vision blurring, until his brain kicked in and informed him that no, those were flames he was seeing.

Gareth pushed himself up on his elbows to find that reinforcements had arrived.

Flames flew in an arc as another on-fire tennis ball struck the Manticores side. The ball bounced, flames trickling down to the floor as the monster beast shrieked.

A third ball had it slamming itself into the wall as Gareth whipped his head to the opposite end of the hallway.

Tiff and Dustin were spraying a can of something onto a number of tennis balls--the ones Gareth knew Tiff kept in her car for tennis.

Lucas loaded one into his slingshot, drawing the rubber bands back and holding so that Jeff’s lighter could turn it into a proper weapon.

He launched it once flames encompassed it fully, and Gareth watched as it flew true.

Landed to the right of the muscular, lion--like chest, flames catching every piece of skin that was touched.

A part of Gareth expected this to only distract the fucker, the same way the pieces of wood sticking out of it’s sides had barely slowed it down--but fire, apparently was its weakness.

The manticore reacted like it was being burned with acid more so than fire, dropping and rolling and ping-pinging between walls as more and more of its wing was overtaken.

Its screams turned into rapid, wracked yelps, until finally it threw itself so hard into a wall that it fell through it.

For a moment a dark hole remained open.

Gray pieces of ash lazily floated out, giving them all a glimpse into a terrifying, dark blue forest, red lightning slashing the sky above before the hole re-sealed itself.

(It closed the way a wound did. All sides creeping in at a speed far too fast for human skin, but was just slow enough to make the wall appear like a living membrane instead of wood and plaster.)

For a long moment, the only thing Gareth could hear was all his friends' harsh panting.

"Did you kill it?" Stewart asked, head peeking around the corner.

Eddie looked to Steve to answer.

Which he did.

"Rule number two, man.” Steve raked a hand through his hair, trying to comb out the sweat that had collected at his temples after he climbed to his feet. “If you can’t see the body, it’s not dead.”

Stewart crept cautiously into the hall, looking as shell shocked as Gareth felt. "Why the hell isn't that rule one?”

"I don't know, the kids made the rules. You can ask them.”

Gareth’s head pulsed unhappily, but Gareth had other concerns as he made his way to his feet.

“How bad is it?” He asked as he made his way over, Eddie still on the ground.

“I’m alright.” Eddie lied, as if they all couldn’t see the sticky patch of blood on his torn jeans.

"Stop talking, start walking!" Dustin yelled at them.

“Eddie’s injured, give us a minute!” Steve yelled back. “God. Go make yourself useful and get my medkit!”

“I’m fine, it’s fine! ” Eddie yelled out right after, voice waspish in his pain.

It convinced absolutely no one, and in fact, caused several people to come down the hallway towards him.

Lucky for him, Steve made it there first.

Dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, he gently moved a ringed hand away from the wound, giving it a critical once over as Gareth and Stewart hovered.

“It’s not bad.” Eddie tried to argue, wincing as he poked around his leg, Steve continually having to bat his hands away. “If we can wrap it I’ll be able to walk out of here.”

“I won’t know until I see more of it.” Tiff said, Jeff and Grant right on her heels to circle Eddie and Steve. “But he might be right for once--there’s not much blood. You’re gonna lose the pants though.”

“Noooo.” Eddie said, in a poor mimic of one of his D&D voices.

“Not to rush you, but we need to get out of here.” Jeff cast an anxious look over at the wall, and Gareth nodded his agreement.

This wasn’t a safe place right now.

(Had likely never been a safe place, if it was birthing out monsters like the manticore.)

Steve looked up at Eddie, holding his gaze.

“Think you can hobble over to the cars if two of us help?”

He got a sharp nod back.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now hop to it.” Tiff said with a clap. Her voice was dry, tone almost sarcastic, but Gareth heard the unease in it

Not that anyone needed any convincing to get the hell out of dodge.

("I'm going to take up running." Eddie told him later, hands shaking from pain as Gareth drove Van Helsing after FrankenCar, Grant's Ford Escort

They had managed to wrap Eddie’s leg up in a quick bandage with the medkit. Gareth hadn’t truly been able to bring himself to look at the wound, but he’d caught a glimpse.

The fang marks stood out on Eddie’s pale skin, and ran in so many rows it looked like he’d shoved half his leg into a shark's mouth.

Tiffany insisted it was more horrific looking than it was actually horrific, and given Eddie had made at least three “am I gonna lose the leg, Doc?” jokes, Gareth believed her.

Still--it was weird, to drive Eddie’s van.

Weirder still to see Steve's Beemer (unnamed on grounds that Hellfire couldn't decide between the Batmobile and the BeemHolder) lead their little procession--though it had been a fight to get Steve to drive the car instead of ride along with Eddie.

"We both know you’re not seriously considering going running.” Gareth told him, voice shaking. “Which is unfortunate, because I'm going to make you anyway."

His fingers tightened hard on the steering wheel.

“I’m going to make everyone go running.”

It was a testament to how scared both of them were that they ended the conversation there.

No joke, no walking back what they'd said.

Running apparently, was back to being a core survival skill and Gareth very much enjoyed staying alive.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t asked why the Byers house was the chosen place to regroup.

Had kind of assumed that it had been picked because Will’s mother wasn’t home.

Definitely was not expecting an adult to come flying out of the door with the air of a frazzled border collie, herding kids inside before freezing when she caught sight of Eddie.

Or rather: Eddie being carefully pulled out of Van Helsing by Steve and Jeff, cursing and whining the whole way.

“You big baby, you’re not that hurt.” Jeff huffed as Eddie’s squirming almost forced him to let go, resulting in Eddie gripping at Steve’s sweater like a liferaft.

“You can talk when you’re the one that got bit by a monster, Jeffrey.” Eddie snapped back, hopping on his good leg. “I almost died!”

“Steve said it just barely grazed you--”

“Steve was busy trying to keep it off of me to really notice what was happening! Unlike you. What were you doing, Jeff? Honking the fucking car horn?”

“I wasn’t the one honking--”

They continued to bicker as Miss Byers marched forward.

Gareth expected her to yell--and given the way Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sight of her, possibly even deny them entrance.

Shoo them away or send them home.

It wouldn’t be the first time a member of Hellfire had been beaten, only for the adults around them to act like they were the ones causing trouble.

Instead, she earned Gareth’s respect immediately by moving alongside Steve and asking; “Is anyone else injured?”

Barely waited for the shake of Steve’s head before spinning on her heel and heading back inside, yelling all the way.

“Will, fetch me towels. Jonathan--get the medkit! ”

“No worries, Miss Byers. Stevie here already has one.” Eddie said, before his attempts to charm her fell utterly flat when he accidentally jostled his leg and hissed out a curse.

“Steve’s not as good as mine, hun.” Her eyes swept over his leg, calculating. “Is that bite what I think it is?”

“Related.” Steve answered, starting the lengthy process of getting Eddie inside.

“Shit.” She sighed, and for the first time that night Gareth realized she too, wore the same haunted look Steve did.

Which meant she'd believe them.

A part of him, the part who was still a teenager, a kid in his own right, relaxed that an adult knew.

As with most of Hellfire, Gareth didn’t typically trust adults, but his relationship with his own parents was slightly better than most of the others. It led him to such beliefs like that maybe, just maybe, this would be the end of the monsters.

That he’d never face a thing like that outside of D&D, ever again. That whatever events haunted Steve would be handled by the proper authorities.

(That they’d be okay. Everyone would be okay.)

Sirens sounded in the distance, and even as Gareth walked inside the house he knew it wasn’t true.

Whatever all this was?

It wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Munson?” A rumpled Jonathan Byers said, blinking like an owl hit with sunlight as the Steve-Eddie-Jeff procession went past.

He got a half-assed roguish grin and a waggle of fingers while Steve rolled his eyes over Eddie’s head.

“What happened!?” Jonathan asked, as Joyce bustled past him, relieving Jonathan of the medkit.

“It’s a long story, but we have a code red at the lab.”

Gareth knew he was frazzled, purely by the fact his hands once again went to mess with his hair, right after helping Eddie down into a chair.

“Which they knew apparently.”

‘They’ was accompanied by Steve jerking his thumb towards the living room--where the kids were talking to themselves in a huddle.

Outside, the sirens grew louder.

Jonathan looked to the living room and back, before heaving a sigh so world weary it was almost impressive. “Of course they did.”

“Demodog?” Miss Byers asked as she laid out various medical supplies on her kitchen table, pausing every so often to stare at Eddie’s leg.

“It was a manticore!” One of the kids yelled.

Gareth wasn't surprised to learn some of the brats were listening in.

There was a pause, as Miss Byers stared quizzically at Steve.

“It's like a demodog but much larger?” He told her, making an awkward shape with his hands that explained absolutely nothing. “With wings? Oh--and a scorpion tail.”

“It was terrifying.” Stewart added in a mutter, all of Hellfire awkwardly camped themselves around Eddie.

Which wasn’t good, given the frown on Miss Byers face as she carefully cut away even more of his jeans and their shitty attempt at band-aiding his wound.

It was the face of someone who was about to cause pain in an attempt to heal, and knew it.

For all that he was their front-man and self-proclaimed shepherd of Hellfire, Eddie's pain tolerance was absolute shit.

The guy could take a punch well enough, and the rings on his hands meant business when he hit back--but when adrenaline wasn't flowing?

Eddie broke down faster than his van did.

This whole thing was a bit of a sore spot. Something Eddie had admitted once under extreme duress had come from his father repeatedly telling him a man needed to be tough, and a Munson man even tougher.

(The duress in question was during one particularly animated D&D fight.

Eddie had gotten too excited and slapped an open palm down on top of a pointy figure, embedded it well into his skin.

The incident had derailed the campaign entirely and caused Hellfire as a whole to learn that their fearless leader really hated people watching him cry.)

Needless to say, a room full of children, his friends, his crush, and one of said kids' mothers wasn't exactly an ideal set up for Eddie to lose it.

So Gareth set himself up as a sort of barrier, blocking Eddie's view from the living room (and hopefully, vice versa, before making eyes at his friends to do the same.

Thankfully Jeff at least, caught on.

Communication was given through pointed looks and nudging elbows, but quickly enough, Hellfire managed to make a decently solid barrier between the kids (and Jonathan, who was doing an amazing job of chewing out said children) leaving Steve and Gareth as the sole onlookers.

“Alright, someone start talking.” Miss Byers loudly commanded, as she finally unearthed Eddie’s wounds.

To Eddie, she offered a well-used bottle of Tylenol, muttering quiet apologies before she began cleaning his very gross looking wound.

“Hey--” Gareth himself muttered, half praying he’d magically think of an excuse for Steve to fuck off, only to realize Hellfire’s jock had actually moved into the kitchen.

A line of mismatched mugs and cups was taking form on the counter, and it took a minute of carefully looking anywhere but at Eddie as Miss Byers worked to figure out Steve was making hot chocolate.

Figured that was probably smart, given Grant looked so tense Gareth expected his head to explode at any second.

(The loud arguing from the kids as they tried to explain didn't help any.)

A thought that Jonathan also seemed to have, given he put on a voice that sounded far to fatherly for Gareth's comfort and bellowed;

“Alright, enough!”

--which at least got him the silence he wanted.

“One at a time!” Jonathan parented from the living room. “Will, you start. Dustin you’re up next, then Mike, then El.”

He put his hands on his hips and Gareth nearly laughed aloud, because apparently the children weren't the only ones picking up Steve's mannerisms.

“Start from when you decided to sneak out without telling anybody but Steve.”

“If it makes you feel better we didn't actually tell Steve.” Dustin chirped.

Jonathan stared at him, and judging from his face alone Gareth expected utter hell to erupt from his mouth.

Instead they got a sort of quiet: “That does actually make me feel a bit better, thanks.”

Steve scoffed from the kitchen in response, which thankfully covered Eddie’s pained hiss from where Miss Byers was patting hydrogen peroxide into his bite mark.

Unfortunately for Jonathan, the kids came up with their own order and as always, let Dustin and Mike be their talking pieces.

“Like we told everyone else, it started because Will and El sensed something--” One began, right as red and blue lights splashed across the walls.

The source of the siren--a police truck that, judging bu the loud crunch of tires sliding on gravel and a shriek of breaks--had arrived.

Several of the children (plus Grant) cursed.

“Who called Hopper?!”

“He’s El’s dad idiot, of course someone called him.”

“Come on Max didn’t we talk about calling people names--”

Eddie tensed, as did the majority of the room, as loud, pounding footsteps tore up the front porch.

“I called him.” Miss Byers said as she rose from her crouch, apparently done re-bandaging Eddie.

She weaved her way through the room and was nearly taken out by her own front door when it was flung open to reveal the man himself, who looked like he’d spent the night fist-fighting his way through a bar, in the dark.

“El?!” He bellowed, eyes frantically scanning the room before landing on her.

The relief was so immediate it seemed to make him slump for a second.

Or rather, long enough for him to draw in enough air to get out a proper yell. “Someone better start explaining, right now. Starting with you Michael Wheeler!”

It was only then, as the man himself stepped into the light, that Gareth finally figured out why he looked sort of--off.

Unreal even, like a figure stepping out of a dream and into reality.

Jim Hopper, Chief of Hawkins Police Department, was wearing Scooby Doo pajamas.

The top was a faded orange color, boasting an image of a footstep in the center of a magnifying glass.

The bottoms were green, the head of the famed Great Dane patterned all over.

Combined?

It was Gareth's last straw.

‘You cannot be having a panic attack over the Chief’s pajamas.’ A far away part of Gareth thought hysterically, as his vision kaleidoscoped.

God, was he so fucking lame.

[mister-mickey]

And part two of the descendants doodles! These are just silly representations of what made them want to stay in auradon

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 2

As was well known, King Edward did have control over many creatures and beasts. Some he used to perform the most subtle of espionage. Such as the pure black raven that had traveled from the land of the Harringtons back to him, perching itself on his arm.

"And what news do you have for us?" He nodded and hummed along as the bird whispered into his ear, grinning as it got better.

"What's going on, Eddie?", Jeff asked. Their game of chess had been interrupted.

"They're shipping off their son. Get your men ready. The little prince is going to take a detour."

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

While Steve's escort party traveled north, the path took them a little west, which put everyone on edge. It was already starting to feel colder and it had little to do with the change in latitude. Every sound in the distance had the potential to a petal-faced beast. Something that would tear into their flesh while they screamed for mercy. They were about two days into the journey now.

Steve was keeping himself entertained by humming songs to himself and looking out the window when he saw a strange shadow in the trees. His eyes narrowed and just when he thought to find it odd, he heard shouts from the men and his carriage suddenly stopped. Bandits, most likely. It could be a monster but Steve heard no snarls.

He knew he was expected to stay inside and let the guards handle it. That was their job. But they could end this quickly by either just giving them what they wanted (his parents could afford it) or by having more men to fight them off. Either way, Steve couldn't just sit here while people were fighting.

He opened up the door and drew his sword, ready to take anyone on.

"Eyes on the prince!", someone shouted.

"Someone grab him!"

Steve elbowed the first one that tried right in the face and slashed towards the next one, their swords clanging together as they parried back and forth. While he kept that one at bay, Steve tried to take in the situation. No bodies on the ground yet, so no one was dead. These men didn't cover their faces in masks. So they weren't bandits. Then Steve saw a clear emblem on one of them.

It couldn't be.

"Just come with us nicely, Your Highness", the man he was currently fighting said, quite politely honestly.

"You've got manners for a mercenary", Steve grunted. "Your name?"

"Jeffery Kinsey. Not a mercenary, a knight."

"My apologies", Steve said as he pushed him off and got some distance between them. "I'm just not used to knights ambushing a traveling party."

"Oh? How about a village of innocent people?"

"You-"

"Stop chatting like it's a tea party!", a woman attacked Steve now, her sword quick and her attacks fatal if they were to hit. She was really trying to kill him.

That knocked some sense into Jeff and he started to get serious as well. Steve was no slouch but two on one was enough to overwhelm anybody, especially in a situation this disorienting. Clearly they were from the enemy kingdom and this ambush had been planned. But how did they know? What was their aim?

While he was trying to figure this out and fight the two of them back, he felt a hard blow to his head. He heard them continue to talk as he blacked out. Something about a big wheel? Getting all the credit? But a robin got the last hit? Had he been attacked by a bird in the end? All he knew was that he felt a deep sense of dread as hands touched his body while he lost consciousness.

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

The first thing he noted was the cold. He felt it down to his fingertips. Then, the hardness of stone. Steve sat up and opened his eyes but that didn't help much with how dark it was. There was a small bit of light coming from a torch that was lit from farther down, allowing him to see some of his walls. He reached out and felt the bars of a cell.

"Shit", he hissed quietly.

Then he heard a chuckle in the blackness. Steve froze. He wasn't alone. He moved away from the bars just as another torch suddenly lit up, revealing the silhouette of someone sitting just on the other side of the cell bars.

"Welcome to my home, Your Highness." His legs were crossed in his chair. He reached behind himself to grab the torch off the wall and now that the light had moved, Steve could see his face.

"You...You're..." Steve had seen his visage on tapestries, walls, illustrations in books. He had the long, curly hair, the pale skin. But he was missing a few things. "Where are your horns?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your horns? And your fangs and claws? And aren't you supposed to be bigger?" Even though he asked this, Steve kept his distance from the bars.

His question was met with raucous laughter. Even a knee slap. And wiping a tear from his eye as his laughing slowed.

"Didn't they teach you about aaall my different forms?"

"I know you can shape shift. I just never imagined you would...I just thought you'd choose to always look intimidating. Not like", Steve gestured to him. "This."

"Oh. Ouch. My pride. The little prince doesn't find me at all scary. And after I went through all the trouble of waiting in the dark to surprise you. How'd you like my welcoming party?"

So this really was the king. And he had Steve trapped. Miles from home with currently no hope for any rescue. He crossed his arms, trying to look defiant, but really just trying to keep himself warm.

"What exactly do you aim to do with me?"

"Oh it's all so very easy. I'll send a message to dear old dad, telling him I've got his precious heir. He'll either promise to stop disturbing my people and their lands, or he'll declare war. I'm ready for either."

He didn't relish the idea of war. But at this point...If that fool of a man kept on trespassing and hurting his people, then there was no other choice.

Steve let out a breath and leaned back against the wall, then came off it when he felt the cold bleed through his clothing. "So I'm a hostage for ransom?"

"In essence, yes." The king stood up and Steve saw that they were pretty much the same height. From all the stories, he thought he would be much taller. More monstrous and ugly, the kind of visage that would strike fear in all who saw it.

But he just saw a man.

"Someone will be down eventually to feed you. I suspect we won't be seeing each other again until the hand off. Ta-ta."

Steve watched him leave and waited until his footsteps faded away before sinking down to the floor. There was a cot off to the side that had seen better days. No windows to speak off. And no hope of getting out unless he suddenly developed super strength. He pulled his knees up to his chest. He imagined his father getting a letter about his capture. It was hard for him to imagine any worry, but surely he wouldn't be slow to get Steve back?

After all was said and done, he was still the prince. He wouldn't just be abandoned here. He had to believe that. He had to.

Above the dungeon level, Eddie met back up with some of his most trusted friends to debrief and prepare for the next stage. In his study there was Jeff, a long time friend and knight. Along with him was Nancy, originally a scholar but she had changed paths to warrior a couple of years ago. There were others he considered to be part of his inner circle, but they were all tending to some minor injuries or other business.

"Do you really think King Alric will avoid a war?", Nancy asked. "He's all but declared it."

"He's a king and kings avoid wars unless they know they can win", Eddie said. At least a smart one would. "Just our population of demobats outnumber their soldiers. Forget if we send anything else. Alric will ask for his son back, and we'll return to that oh-so-sweet tenuous peace for about another twenty years before little Stephen gets it in his head about attacking our lands."

Eddie fiddled with a quill as he slowly walked the room. "Such is the cycle I and the Harringtons have been in for years." He sat behind his desk and crossed his legs at the ankles while resting them on the top. "Now help me pen a letter that's just the riiight amount of condescending."

Part 4

Tag Team

[madametamma]

I have this idea: pregnant Lois

Basically when maws Lois is pregnant the whole daily planet is made aware and Clark is both excited and freaking out internally. When it's time for the baby to be born the whole planet is like "battle stations" people just running out of the way or jumping over desks or (to take it even further) Perry announcing Lois is going into labor to the whole planet. Clark is freaking out and it takes a cartoon slap from almost everyone in the planet to snap him out of it (and I'm talking almost everyone Jimmy, Kara, Steve, cat, Lonnie hell even Parry). When that baby is born both Clark and Lois and then show the baby to the planet which everyone finds over.

I've had this idea for how I would write a Lois gives birth story for a while. It's a fan fic I'd like to get around to for a while (But also if anyone else wants to use it for their own work go right ahead.)

Lois goes into Labor several weeks early. It's really bad. Clark and Lois have been worried this whole time over whether or not a human and Kryptonian could make a healthy baby together and it looks like the answer is going to be no. The doctor tells them that their child will likely only live for a few more hours after it's birth. They are devastated.

THEN the sun begins to rise. (They haven't slept all night) and they get an idea. At this point they know that the sun makes Clark near invulnerable and heal quickly. With nothing to loose Clark takes the baby in his arms and flies them up in the sky where they can absorb the most sunlight.

He waits for what seems like eternity as he begs his child to live when suddenly, the baby's struggled breathing turns to healthy wails. and it comes life. Clark takes the baby back to Lois and the doctors are shocked as they declare that this is the healthiest premature baby they've ever seen.