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triskhellion · 10 months

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While We Still Have Time

Rated: Teen (3.2k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski

Tags: POV Stiles, Road Trip, Song Lyrics, Cussing, Recreational Drug Use, Stiles & Derek Leave Beacon Hills, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Roscoe breaks down when Stiles tries to escape Beacon Hills. He calls Derek for help and they end up leaving together.

Soundtrack

Prompts: Mead Moons — Claiming, Herbs, & Rituals. Sterek Weekly — Trouble (and Pillow.) Sterek Fests — Road Trip to Anywhere. Sterek Bingo — Road Trip.

It was finally happening. He had a duffle bag with his favorite clothes, toiletries, a couple towels, and some other essentials in the back. A backpack with his laptop, a notebook, and half a dozen books he never got around to reading between all the monsters of the week last year and the Hunter bullshit this Spring. They’d been buried under various mountain of stuff and semi-dirty clothes, forgotten until his pre-Get The Fuck Out of Here cleaning spree. He wasn’t going to leave a mess for his dad to deal with. Unlike all those other times with far worse kinds, you mean?

Yeah well, that’s why he was going. One of the many reasons, anyway.

He had his wallet in his left side pocket and phone charging in a makeshift holder by the dashboard. Jugs of water on the floor and a paper bag with a few nonperishable staples and an assortment of sandwiches, snacks, and caffeinated beverages in the passenger seat. His pillow, which would be especially necessary when he’d need to sleep at a rest stop or something.

Stiles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sang along to the playlist he’d selected to start off his journey. He didn’t even know where he was going yet, just heading south until he had to get gas or piss and then he’d decide. There’d been no time to waste. This need to get away had been building for a while now and when he woke up this afternoon — he couldn’t fall asleep until after dawn — all he knew was that today was the day. It couldn’t wait another week or even until tomorrow or something else would come up to keep him there. He just knew it.

So he’d started the first load of laundry and then speed cleaned and showered in the quickly tepid while it was washing. He went to the store while the second load was going and the first one in the dryer, which had everything he was planning to take. Then he packed his stuff, set the remaining laundry to dry, scrawled a note that was frankly more stream of consciousness than rational explanation, but at least ended with a promise to stay in contact “Love, Stiles,” and then he was off.

Miles ticked up on the odometer and pavement passed beneath Roscoe’s wheels. It was at once exciting and bittersweet. He was done with high school and, more importantly, 18 so it’s not like his dad or anyone else could actually force him back. Not that many of the old crew were even going to be in Beacon Hills for much longer. Those that hadn’t already left like Jackson, Chris, and Isaac did overseas or Lydia getting an early start in Cambridge.

But unlike her or Scott and the others he wasn’t heading off to college or something like that. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life anymore, was still stuck processing or at least dealing with having been possessed. As in he had to deal with it — the memories and nightmares and new little quirks that made him question himself — not that he was handling it in any particularly effective or healthy fashion.

And so it was like it was expected, or at least assumed, that he would just stay here for all the shit the town and that fucking tree could possibly throw his way. Well, how about no? Again, he’d been possessed! He deserved a goddamn break. Or if not deserved (the little voice in his head had very different ideas about what he deserved) he fucking wanted one. Needed one before he broke anymore.

Stiles only wished he could take his dad with him. And maybe a certain Sourwolf if he was being honest with himself now that it mattered even less than it already did before. Those big, impossible feelings he never wanted to look at long enough to pin down. The pull he liked to pretend was just him being a hormonal bisexual teenager who was warm for the former Alpha’s form. That it didn’t matter because it hadn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’tmatter.

He thought of guarded green-hazel eyes, a clenched, stubbled jaw, and stubbornly crossed arms as he wailed along with Jim Adkins.

“The things we think might be the same, but I won’t fight for more. It’s just not me to wear it on my sleeve, count on that for sure.”

Stiles snorted and shook his head. It was all too fitting, whether more for him or Derek or both of them equally he wasn’t sure. There were times, after all, when he’d thought that Derek also…

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen. Famous last words.

Seconds later smoke was rising from beneath the hood of the Jeep. Always a wonderful sign. Fuck. No no no, please not now.

This couldn’t be happening. Just another too vivid daydream, right? Or maybe he’d actually fallen asleep waiting for the laundry and this was simply a nightmare because of his nervousness about the upcoming trip. Haha, very funny brain!

More smoke billowed out and there were sounds. Oh no. No no no. Fuck!

Stiles pulled off onto the wide shoulder, put the car in park, and snatched the keys from the ignition, hurling them onto the floor. Then he just sat there in silence with his head against the top of the steering wheel. He hadn’t even made it 30 miles and it was already over. There was always something. Some kind of trouble, like clockwork. Like a curse.

He’d worked over senior year and into the summer, doing odd jobs and seasonal gigs to save up the money that he was now planning to use for gas and cheap motels and food. That he’d already spent part of on getting Roscoe some much needed maintenance and repairs over the last few months. Not enough, apparently.

After smashing his head into the horn so that it blared obnoxiously a few times he pulled himself upright and scrolled through the contacts on his phone like he had options. Gone, gone, doesn’t have a car, gone, doesn’t have a car, doesn’t even have a license, don’t want to talk to him and have to explain anything right now.

Stiles sighed. Well, he didn’t want to call his dad at the moment either — with any luck he could at least get home before his failed escape was revealed — so that left only one person. Of course it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Derek. So funny story, I’m about 28 miles from town on the highway heading south and my car broke down. Yes, yes, I know. So, um, if you don’t have anything better to do, you think you could come get me? Let me know either way. Uh, catch you later.”

He wondered how long it would take to walk back to Beacon Hills. 10 hours? What if he just took the backpack, removed some of the books and added a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and a towel and just kept walking south. Maybe he could hitchhike.

By the time he dug into the secret compartment in the lid of a jar of peanut butter and pulled out the little baggie of weed his hands were shaking. He’d gotten it from an acquaintance of Danny’s — the guy really could hook you up with just about anything — and still had some left. Enough for now and a few times more.

He retrieved the rest of his supplies and crouched down on the other side of the car, calming as he performed the little ritual of rolling his own joints. Of lighter and flame. Burn, inhale, hold, exhale. Taking the edge off. Lightening him up. What if he just walked into the trees and disappeared. Became one with the forest like whats-her-face in Annihilation who was done with fighting the freaky bullshit and just noped the fuck out. If only.

17 minutes later his phone chimed.

<Sourwolf: Be there in 30.>

Stiles responded with a thumbs up emoji. Alright. Okay. He took a few more hits and snuffed out the end, saving the rest for later.

Derek’s face did all sorts of things when he got there, half of them with his eyebrows alone. How did he ever used to think the man was unreadable? Devoid of emotion except anger?

Obviously, he’d smelled the marijuana, but Derek didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Hey handsome, think you can help a damsel in distress?” Stiles said, fluttering his eyelashes and sticking out a leg like he was pulling up the hem of a skirt before bursting into giggles. Derek shook his head and popped the hood on Roscoe.

“Since when were you a mechanic, big guy?” He set a hand on a leather-clad shoulder. It’s August you silly goose.

“I know a thing or two.”

“I’m sure you do,” he vamped, leering exaggeratedly and then abruptly pivoting to walk to the back of the Jeep where he set his forehead against the cool glass. What the fuck are you doing?

Burning everything down around him apparently. He started chuckling, a dark, sharp-edged thing, and Derek looked over at him with concern.

“Stiles?”

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just falling to pieces.”

He sat down hard on the ground and cracked right up, laughter turning to sobs as footsteps crunched toward him.

“I thought I was actually getting out, Der. I tried. I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t. I can’t,” he got out between gasping breaths.

Derek crouched down beside him and started rubbing his back, tentatively at first and then in long, soothing strokes. His head moved and Stiles could swear he felt a kiss at the top of his head. Or something like that. He found himself practically head-butting Derek in his stupid muscly chest as he leaned into him, hands grasping at his left side and right elbow. Oh, he was going to be so embarrassed about this later. Derek took a deep breath.

“I’ll take you.”

“What?” Stiles’ head jerked up, tear tracks drying on his face.

Derek nodded toward the Camaro.

“Wait, seriously?”

The werewolf shrugged.

“Yeah. You’ve got your stuff packed and everything.”

“But what about you? We have to go back, get your things and a tow truck for Roscoe and—“

“No,” Derek cut in. “I can just grab what I need on the way. I’ll have Malia, actually no, Mason, check on the place and I can call now about getting your Jeep towed to your house.” He raised a finger when Stiles opened his mouth. “I’ll give ‘em your dad’s number in case there’s any issues. But no going back there now or something will happen and you’ll never leave. So let’s just go.”

Stiles clambered up from the ground feeling strangely light and warm. Hopeful. And still kinda high he supposed. While Derek made that call he rearranged some of his stuff and then took all of it out it of Roscoe, putting the duffle bag in the now open trunk of the Camaro — it was so getting a name on this road trip — and throwing his backpack, pillow, and snacks in the back seat.

“Shotgun!” he yelled, completely unnecessarily before getting in up front. Derek squinted at him and shook his head, getting behind the wheel.

The sun had just gone down, but it wasn’t dark yet and he caught his beaming reflection in the side mirror. Stiles hooked up his phone to the stereo.

The chorus of “Work” came blaring back to life just as Derek put the pedal to the metal and peeled out of there (after carefully checking the mirrors and blind spots of course,) tires kicking up dirt and gravel. “You wanna take a ride? Get out of this place while we still have time.”

The Camaro even fishtailed some pulling back onto the pavement and Stiles smirked, pretty sure that display of Fast & Furious-ness was for his benefit. He grabbed the Oh Shit handle and whooped. Now he was off! They. The both of them.

“So where are we going?” he asked a few minutes later when his heart rate had returned to what passed as normal for him.

“Wherever you want,” Derek replied, a bit too conspicuously.

Wherever. Where. Ever.

Stiles’ left leg began bouncing up and down and he turned away to gaze out the window, eyes unfocusing so that the trees blurred into one continuous spiny ripple. He was hearing what he hearing, right? I mean, he was pretty sure.

But if there was a 10% or even 3% chance that Derek would turn this car around or like, jump out the window of a moving vehicle in horror at his feelings and desires he didn’t want to risk it. No matter how much he wanted…whatever. Because if this trip ended before it even began Stiles didn’t know what he would do. How he would survive or if he—

A large hand clamped down to still his jittering. Warm and squeezing just above his knee. The inner side of his thigh. Without looking — he couldn’t okay, not until he knew he wasn’t wrong — he “casually” put his left hand, palm up, a bit higher up on his leg. Derek laid his own on top of it, thicker fingers twining with his. Holy shit. Okay.

Stiles turned slowly then, hardly daring to breathe, and met glowing blue eyes. Suddenly, it felt like something in his chest, in his soul, rearranged. Stabilized. A pack bond snapping properly into place. He rubbed over his sternum with his right hand as Derek inhaled sharply and then wrenched his attention back on the road since he was driving and all.

Whoa.

There’d been lots of upheaval over the last few years. Being Scott’s, Being both of theirs. Derek giving up his Alpha spark for Cora and leaving, the Nogitsune, things being all fucked up and not feeling like he belonged to anyone at all. Derek coming back, but them both out of sorts and dealing with their own shit amidst everything and him being confused and isolated and not really open for connection. Had to close the door.

Their bond hadn’t broken, but it hadn’t been right either. And now…

Already he was feeling more settled. Stronger. Content even after they claimed or re-claimed each other as pack or whatever exactly that was. Stiles cleared his throat.

“How about Reno?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but then broke into a grin.

“Sure.”

Several more moments passed with his brain trying to regain functionality and Derek looking at him pointedly.

“What?”

“You’re the navigator.”

Stiles flailed and nearly dropped his phone.

“Oh, right.”

He pulled up the routes and selected one for directions. That done, he started looking up stuff about the city. Places they might want to eat or walk around.

About halfway there his dad called and he took a deep breath before answering. They talked for a while, Derek hearing everything of course, but Stiles had shaken his head no when he mimed pulling over. It’s not like the werewolf wouldn’t hear just as much anyway unless he ran off a good ways and that would just be silly.

Stiles wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised at the clear relief in his father’s voice when he learned that Derek was now going with him.

“You two stay out of trouble, alright? Derek…”

“I’ll look out for him, sir,” he responded loudly.

“Good man.”

Stiles watched Derek duck his head a bit, bunny teeth peeking out as he smiled. God, he was adorable when he let himself feel things.

“Okay kiddo,” his dad said, addressing him again. “Well, I hope you get what you need out there. I’ll just be here enjoying the peace and quiet and bacon burgers every day—“

“Daaad,” he groaned as his father laughed.

“Just kidding, son. I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, Dad”

“Alright, Love you, have fun.”

“I love you t—”

“But not too much fun.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Bye!” he yelled, hanging up.

They stopped at a drive-thru for some hot food on the outskirts of Reno. Burgers and sodas with curly fries, of course. It was around midnight when Derek pulled off at the next turnout, overlooking the city. They ate half-sitting, half-leaning against the warm hood of the Camaro.

Stiles was going to propose going down there and gawking at the late night antics for a bit (unfortunately, unlike some places in California he was too young to play a few slot machines here and see if his luck really was turning around.) Then finding somewhere to sleep. A motel room. With Derek.

There was a flash of heat in his belly and it became a bit of a struggle to swallow his current bite of potato-y goodness. He managed not to choke as he blushed at where his imagination was heading and felt very accomplished.

Derek looked over at him, nostrils flaring, and reached out to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth with a thumb. Not quite daring enough to take it into his mouth, Stiles leaned into his palm and those searching eyes first softened and then focused intently. In the blink of an eye Derek’s face was much closer, but not quite touching his. Warm puffs of breath tickled his skin.

He closed the gap and then they were kissing. Slow and tentative at first, gentle and tasting, and then something deeper. Hungrier. Derek was the first to pull back, grinning and leaving him breathless, but craving more. If it was left up to him he probably would've kept going until they both passed out. Or just him, who was he kidding. Damn werewolf constitution.

They turned back to the shining oasis in the darkness, flashing lights and neon signs, and he sidled up to Derek, who then put an arm around his shoulder. Slotting into place like puzzle pieces. A satellite passed by overhead, but he wished on it like a shooting star anyway. Please let this be real.

Stiles snuggled even more into Derek’s side and breathed him in, calmed by his warmth and woodsy scent as if he were a wolf himself. He closed his eyes to the sound and vibration of pleased rumbling, comfortable and pondering the possibilities opening up before them.

The crunch of balled up wrappers and other garbage being placed in the bag that their food came in had him jolting awake. He must’ve dozed off for a while. God knows he needed it.

Derek smiled at him, one of those special fond ones that Stiles had collected like rare treasures and placed inside his stupid little heart before forcing himself to think of other things. He didn’t have to do that anymore though, he could hold onto them and inspect them all he wanted. Do his best to get more of them.

“You ready?” Derek asked, holding out his free hand. Stiles took it and was pulled upright, where he stole a kiss.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Thanks for reading!

Previous (unrelated) fics for the Mead Moons event/series:

Second Chance Strays

Thunder

@sterek-and-stuff-events @sterekfests @sterekweekly @sterekbingo

#sterek #sterek fanfic #mead moons #mead moons claiming #mead moons herbs #mead moons ritual #sterekweeklytrouble #sterekfests #sterekfestsroad #sterekfestssummer2023 #sterekbingo #mead moons trisk

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jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 7 months

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Your choice of SPN character has been hit with a curse of Endless Chatter. Write one run-on sentence of dialogue for them (until your own stream-of-consciousness runs out!).

Hey, Sammy, how about we jump in the car & go take a drive, like, to Colorado or some place, I'm thinking mountains, but I could be convinced to find a beach somewhere, maybe somewhere warm, sand between our toes, ya know, how long has it been since we've taken some us time, because I cannot remember the last time we were able to just kick back & relax, although, hey, remember that time down in Key West when we... shit, you know what, I don't really remember much of our time in Key West, hahaha, that was a good trip, even if I did end up needing antibiotics, no, don't give me that dirty diaper look, it was a good time, a GREAT time, and you seemed to be all smiles for days too, at least all the way up to Jacksonville where we ran into that ghoul, ew remember the pit full of bodies it had hoarded, god that was disgusting, although at least they were already piled up so we could burn them all at once without having to touch them, I really surprised the fire department didn't show up because that was one hell of a blaze once we got it going, it smelled like barbeque, which was super disturbing, always is, OH and then we found that BBQ joint on the way through Mississippi and you didn't want to stop, said I was gross for even thinking about ribs, but they turned out to be, like, the best ribs and it was just this little shack by the road, which is weird because it seems like there is a direct link between the quality of food and shadiness of the location serving it, but not all the time because there was this taco place in Tucson that gave me the runs for days, but the giveaway on that was the cockroaches, which I really wish I had noticed before I ate those tacos, but a shady, rundown building in a bad part of town tends to equal great food, but if there are cockroaches... run, why aren't you eating, is your rabbit food not leafy enough or something, maybe you should order a burger, all that fiber cannot be good for you, you're a big guy you need more protein in your diet, hey, excuse me, can we get another burger over here, bacon and cheese, please, and another milkshake, oh hey, do y'all still have pie, last time we came through her you had pie, cherry I think, and it was AMAZING, so if you have pie can I get a piece, thanks, a burger will get you feeling bet... why are you looking at me like that, is there something, do I have something on my face, no, what the hell, Sam, you haven't said anything since we got here, and I know I'm the one that got hit by the whammy but that doesn't mean I should be doing all the heavy lifting conversation-wise, and you've got to know a counter-hex that will fix this, right, because my throat is actually starting to get a little sore and, I dunno, I feel like I'm running out of things to talk about like this one time, I think you were at Stanford when this happened so you may not know this already, but stop me if you've heard it before, HA, like you could stop me from talking at the moment, that's funny in a really not funny kind of a way and seriously would you stop just staring at me like that and fucking do something already, other people are starting to stare too, like that guy in the Henry Blake hat over there, what's he been fishing or something, what's up with all the fishing hooks in a hat, that's like asking to get one stuck through your finger, and anyway, so this one time I was, shit, I don't even remember where it was, someplace with, not cactuses, bu they like cactuses, you always used to correct me on what they were called when we were kids, what was that... gah, whatever, it'll come to me, but the place was dry and dusty and flat and there was this abandoned-looking gas station that, I shit you not, had the best toilets, like they weren't made of gold or anything, because they would have been stolen, but they were clean, weirdly, immaculately clean, like the whole bathroom was shiny and squeaky and practically glowed, open the door at night and you could probably see the reflection in space, did you know that astronauts have to use a vacuum to pee, they pee into a vacuum...

#did y'all know that there is a 4096 character limit per text block?#well you do now #anon asks #lol this was fun

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zeldahime · 2 months

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Highway to Pail Day 23

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 23: Bitter coffee.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Don't think about Lindsey.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Don't check your phone; you already know what's in those texts and you have to get through the rest of the day.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Is it four yet? Can't start closing up til four. (Maybe we'll get some of those mid-afternoon business types, then. Stay open til six, rake in a few more sales.)

"Give me death," a joker tells Rhiannon for the fifteenth time today, and you want to pour this espresso over his head. No, waste of good coffee; you want to pour the pot of decaf over his head.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Running through oat milk faster than you did last month, seems like. Gonna have to pick some up from the shops to get through to the next delivery. Is it worth a trip to the restaurant supply on Shaftesbury?

Set. Pull. Pour.

No, god, if you have to go all the way over to Saftesbury you'll be a full half-hour. Lindsey'll go mental.

Lindsey's already going mental though, if the buzzing in your pocket is anything to go by. Might as well.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Certainly isn't four yet but it must be getting on to eleven, and haven't seen hide nor hair of Stevie yet have you? If they're late again you'll have to be big mean boss lady, and it's not like that's not what you are anyway, but you really do need someone 'round in the afternoons who shows up when they're supposed to. Rhi needs to go eat while it's slow and you need a second pair of hands at the bar during the lunch rush.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Skinny latte—oh! From across the road. She always seems to be having a hard time of it lately, poor lamb. Nobody really buys records anymore, do they, not since CDs were invented anyway. Wonder how she's managed to stay in business so long....

Set. Pull. Pour.

There's Stevie, thank god, maybe Rhi can get a bite before the lunch crowd starts in earnest.

"Just set your bag behind the bar and get on the register, we'll figure out your clock later. Rhiannon, food, insulin, go." Rhi looks relieved. It must be even later than you thought.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Just check the time. All you have to look at is the time. Don't worry about the notifications. You don't have to look at those. Just the time. You can check the time without thinking about—fuck, Lindsey's pissed.

And it's 11:13. Stevie's almost an hour late. You should've called them forty minutes ago.

Set. Pull. Pour.

And you didn't have to check the time, because in comes Mr Fell, 11:15 for his tea and biscuits. You could set your watch by Mr Fell's tea and biscuits, though not by anything else about him. Weirdest opening hours you've ever seen. You grabbed the new white peony tea, just came in from that bloke in Chiswick, and set it by the register for Stevie to show Fell.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Lindsey should know better than to think you've got any interest in that Chiswick guy. Right? You don't even like tea. Chiswick isn't your type. There's no way that conversation on the phone was flirtatious. It was all business. It was about tea vending for Christ's sake. Lindsey's got to be reading into things.

Set. Pull. Pour.

....Right?

Author's note: It was so hard not using any pronouns for Lindsey! I had to keep reworking sentences to make sure it didn't read too awkwardly. This is also my first time writing in 2nd person in a very long time. I think I'm happy with that decision; it helps the stream-of-consciousness feeling.

#my writing #do it with style events #highway to pail #good omens #good omens fanfiction #nina good omens

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writinglittlebeasts · 1 year

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i've seen other people do these recently and didn't realize this was something people did here, so i'm sort of excited to introduce myself!

i'm casper rhys, i'm 26, and my pronouns are he/him! i'm a writer and artist who reserves all of my brain power for original stories, and everything else is a godless stream-of-consciousness landscape of text-lingo word vomit. i refuse to stop.

the genres that i most like to work in are contemporary fantasy and horror, trying to balance plot and a character focus. more often than not my stories involve themes of mental illness, personhood and morality, gender and sexuality, family (close interpersonal relationships of all sorts, really), romance, and horrible violence. almost all of my work includes explicit sexual content, so this blog will be 18+. sorry.

my largest wip, the one i dedicate most of my time to, is A Wolf's Tooth for Revenge, a contemporary fantasy novel about a dysfunctional pack of werewolves taking a cross-country road trip to kill the alpha of a rival pack while they grapple with sudden personal devastation. it'll likely feature heavily here until it's finished, and if you see me griping about how hard writing is i'm probably staring at it like it'll write itself if i scare it enough. secondary wips include Fixed, about a triad of rogue werewolves finding family and self-actualization in an uncaring industry, and The Daring Fiasco and the Safety of the Realm, about a hedonistic shadow summoner raised by a master of the craft returning to the city of his childhood long after his exile and causing problems on purpose while danger lurks under his nose. secondary wips include Literally Anything Else idk what i was thinking trying to organize this like that.

i'll be posting wip excerpts for that sweet validation with their individual wip tags, which are most often an abbreviation of their title. #awtfr for wolf's tooth and #tdfsr for fiasco, for instance

writinglittlebeasts is a side blog! my primary blog is @werewolfhooligan, so if that url crops up in any replies, it's me, lol

i am super down to answer asks at any time or be tagged in tag games, it might just take me a while to respond (sorry)

current fixation: devil dogs, a story wherein a werewolf and the fledgeling werewolf hunter who let him live sixteen years ago reunite and blood gets Everywhere. in its early exploration stage; outlining for fall nano2023!

side quests: magicians and resident evil fanfiction lmao

#or #writeblr intro #creative writing #writers of tumblr #image descriptions in alt text #this suddenly feels like a lot of text. that's scary i don't know

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ban-joey · 1 year

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ok im posting this. uh this is like, a pretty unhinged barely organized essay/stream of consciousness. I compiled a lot of this during a trip to my grandparent’s with a glass of good whiskey and brand new headphones, just after the release of the andor finale. I finished it when the rest of the soundtrack was released. I have a google doc of my notes, where I basically just gave every single track my undivided attention and made various connections here and there. this is specifically about cellos in the soundtrack.

(If you like music theory and loved the Andor soundtrack, I really recommend listening to Kirk Hamilton’s episode about it on his podcast Strong Songs. He also guested in an episode of A More Civilized Age which is a podcast that’s totally taken over my listening time and utterly Star Wars pilled me as soon as it started. Kirk does a really wonderful job taking you through music step-by-step and pulling out specific things you might not notice on your own, and really enjoys doing it. It’s a lot of fun and I’ve learned a lot listening to him.)

anyway.

STAR WARS: ANDOR and The Cello as a Character Device (and just a good instrument)

I just put my earbuds in. My phone is still on the track “My Name is Kino Loy,” just at the very end, when I turned my car off after getting home and sitting in it for a bit to finish out the song. It’s one of my favorites on the soundtrack, utterly spellbinding from beginning to end. It’s killer. The sheer amount of emotion in it even without the context of the scene it’s in is just phenomenal.

The entirety of the released Andor score is about 2 hours and 40 minutes of some of the most engaging and interesting soundtrack I’ve had the pleasure of listening to way too often.

Andor (Main Title Theme) - Episode 1. The engine guns, the cellos are flying this ship. Everyone’s talked about how good this theme is. The fact that Britell composed so many versions of it, resulting in a core identifier of the show. A changing introduction every episode, setting the tone of what’s to come.

When I started watching this show, I was pretty instantly blown away by everything, but music is always the thing that reels me in for the long haul. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard cellos as the main focus in a score. I can’t think of a TV show or movie that uses them so prominently. In things that I’ve listened to and watched, cellos are used for solos in moments that are meant to invoke some strong emotion. They’re an instrument you feel in your chest, not meant to be the main feature throughout.

As I watched, I just couldn’t get this out of my head, that Cassian Andor and the cello are entwined in some way. I started to think about how he moves, how he speaks, the pitch of his voice, and then started really paying attention to when the cello shows up. As soon as I started listening to the soundtrack on the regular as it was released, I figured out what was going on.

“Rix Road” is firmly on my list of top tracks. It starts up right after the Time Grappler in the show, blending with the final few blows on that gigantic metal slab. The camera follows Cassian through Ferrix. We get a shot of his back as the cello comes in, and he seamlessly merges into the crowd while the cello is nearly entirely absorbed into the layers of this beautiful piece of music. The cello plays what we will soon recognize as a theme central to the community of Ferrix.

(if you are my friend and you haven’t watched past the Aldhani arc don’t read the rest of this kthx)

The musical identity of this place is delivered to us along with these extraordinary sets, costumes, details of a bustling community united in its work and each other. The music ties it all together in such a profound way—this specific melody, a funeral dirge, is played while Cassian walks down Rix Road. Where the Empire hung his father. God damn.

I unpacked my viola after having it stored away for months and learned how to play that solo shortly after hearing it, because how could I not? It’s gorgeous. At the time, I had no idea what it would grow into.

After I watched that scene, I decided the cello is Cassian. Diego Luna’s voice makes it work, frequently hitting that same register. More specifically, though, I noticed cellos really bring out moments of quiet for Cassian, bringing pieces of his internal identity to the fore in really interesting ways. Cellos only get a feature when Cassian is present in a scene.

Like, “The Night Before.” We get this gorgeous cello (I’m so biased, it’s always gorgeous, I love this instrument beyond words), this tremulous, high-pitched back-and-forth across the strings. Cassian sits alone in Maarva and Clem’s old ship, holding his father’s gun and spending the night awake. Waiting it out. Again, we only get the cello when he’s on screen.

The cellos in the soundtrack are never confined to just one melody, they’re dynamic as all hell. They play counter to each other frequently, as in the theme for the second episode—which, to me, sounds like three or four different melodies struggling to unite in some larger identity, and almost reaching it, but they’re cut off too soon to resolve. Knowing what we do about Cassian, there’s definitely something there. How well does he know himself? How much is he afraid to confront about what makes him who he is, his past, his emotions, his pain, everything unresolved about Kenari? Is having so many separate pieces of self-identity part of what makes him so good at playing a role? It’s just the song having a few different cellos doing different stuff, it’s probably not intentional on the part of the composer, but the point is that it made me think and it’s just the intro music. It’s about 50 seconds long, but it made me think about the character in a new way, and I just think that’s really cool.

My number one track is the one that’s better as it is unmixed in the show. Pilgrim. I have pointed out a bazillion times that this track comes in after the line “If you can’t find it here, it’s not worth finding” because I am insane about this. Instantly, the cello, attacking the strings in a steady, hacking beat, absolutely sawing, taking us into the full orchestra, absorbed as we go. The camera pans down to Ferrix and the drums start in, to find Cassian walking through the scrap yard, fitting in to the world around him as the cello merges into the strings and we get that absolute banger of a drum solo. He walks in time with the beat. The cellos reemerge, soaring high in the theme and shifting even higher in a wail as the screen goes to black. It’s insane. It makes me foam at the mouth. Garage drums in Star Wars. It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.

And again—that idea of Cassian blending into his environment, enhanced by the cello doing the same thing. Love it.

“Past/Present Suite” is another on the list of all-timers. The ticking clock of the beginning, this slow build. The cellos begin as a quiet drone beneath violins and violas, and then the solos shine through with the main theme and counter-melody. The other strings are there, pushing everything forward, the percussion is there, there’s this driving bass that’s really good, the synth blends everything together in such a fantastic way, but the cellos are the stars of the show in the end. At first, they’re just repeating the same phrase. The brass comes in, taking over for the cellos, and the cellos take back command of the melody, driving forward in what I view as Ferrix’s theme. That funeral dirge.

And then, by the end, this culmination of astonishing emotion. The cello keens above everything else as the strings and brass and percussion fall away, Ferrix dropping away beneath the Fondor, taking an unwilling Cassian away from home. The interplay of his kidnapping from Kenari is striking, and that high tone of the cello is just heartbreaking. How painful must it be, to watch your life repeat itself in this way? The cellos pull that out, giving you an insight into Cassian’s emotional state that is driven and pinpointed by Diego Luna’s performance.

After the first three episodes, we get way less cello. They’re still present in the intros, but not so much in the rest. Makes sense—the following arcs are less about Cassian as a person and more specifically about the world we’re in and how our cast responds to it, the roles they play, the institutions they serve. Cellos are of course still there, at least whenever the soundtrack falls back into a traditional orchestra. You can’t cut cellos out of that, they’re the best instrument. But, they’re not the main feature for a while.

So, like, obviously as soon as the cellos hit at the end of “My Name is Kino Loy” hand-in-hand with the brass I was knocked off my ass. That one’s on my top whatever list. An incredible blend to finish out (I THOUGHT) an episode that ripped my fucking guts out. And then we descend into the depths of Coruscant. Bye bye cello. Hello oh my god where are we and WHAT is Luthen wearing and oh holy shit

Anyway then the cellos show up again in “Heroes” because, duh, Cassian is back. The cellos are up front here, plus these absolutely bonkers horns and CRAZY triumphant drum hits, and finally it’s the end of the episode and it was a WILD fucking ride and this song does not dim the adrenaline rush that was that entire 40 minutes of top-tier television as we close out episode 10.

Also, worth mentioning, the cellos are barely in the intro for episode 11. It’s very sexy considering the musical end of the episode. When I say sexy I mean it makes me cry a lot.

And, yeah, that musical end is “Your Mother Is Dead,” which is the entire reason I started typing this out. Nine cellos. NINE CELLOS. The barest hint of other strings behind them, but it’s all cellos. And it’s just Cassian, by the end. All alone. At the water’s edge. White-knuckled grip on his bag. It’s just grief. That’s the entirety of this song. It’s unending, profound, overlapping, waves of grief that just keep crashing down. It’s so painful. You get one look at his face in this scene and it’s so clear what he’s feeling, he can just barely lie, say that everything’s fine, but he chokes on it. (Diego Luna I am shaking your hand)

Episode 12 is all brass. I don’t need to say more about that. Y’all already know. Funnily enough, it’s actually violas that show up when we see Cassian on Ferrix again, which I love. It’s almost like the cellos were fully spent after the last episode, all of that emotion so overwhelming. But “Clem’s Stone” is just as cutting a piece as “Your Mother Is Dead”. On top of the grief, it’s achingly hopeful. It’s on my list as well. It’s only 2 minutes long, and remarkably effective.

The last place we hear the cello is in “Cassian Will Find Us”, for obvious reasons. It feels like a goodbye. I hope we see these characters again, but I don’t know. It’s blending in, not the focus at all, with all these other instruments and melodies that have been featured throughout the show—some of them not for a while! The percussion unique to the Aldhani arc comes back, tying a neat little bow on everything that’s happened to this character this season. Combining it all in droves, in a relatively unassuming piece of music, completing Cassian’s arc in this season, uniting him with everything he’s gone through and learned and lost.

It makes sense that the cello would be the main instrument to follow Cassian through a scene, considering it’s the lead in the main theme, and he’s, y’know, that’s his name. But, I’m so used to Star Wars soundtrack maintaining character themes only, to the point of overuse post-og trilogy. Having a specific instrument for a specific character, an instrument that is in itself so versatile and malleable, just like the character? Fucking rules. Having that instrument specifically single out his identity within and outside of groups of people and planets as well as his deeply internalized struggles and barely outwardly expressed emotion that’s boiling over? I go crazy for Nicholas Britell.

Anyway. I love this show dearly. It’s been really fun to watch and listen to, and I can’t wait to see what kind of musical lines they draw in the second season. I’ve feasted and I’m satisfied with this, but I am so eager for more.

#andor #music stuff #this just devolves rapidly as you read but yknow! whatever. i like things

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kcscribbler · 19 days

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24, 25, and 33 for the writing ask :)

Full Ask List Here

24. Thoughts on flashbacks/flashforwards.

I've never been a big fan of doing in flashback what I could do some other way, but there have been times where a flashback did the job.

I tend to stick pretty close to a limited omniscient 3rd person POV in present tense, which means the usual alternative to a flashback would be that character telling the story to another character or as a stream-of-consciousness; and since my fics are dialogue-heavy as a rule, sometimes I opt for the flashback instead purely to break up that dialogue.

I don't have a problem reading them, but for some reason I dislike them a lot more on-screen in shows and movies. They're just usually kind of campy, imho.

Incidentally, that's why I was immediately fascinated by the first episode of Loki Season 2, the meeting between Ouroboros and Loki and Mobius. Because due to the timeslipping, it was technically a flashback, but didn't feel like that kind of thing usually does on screen.

Very clever, and I have big respect for that.

25. Is writing the whole thing beforehand better or worse than writing it as you go?

This is an interesting one, and I don't know if I'd categorize it as better or worse, just whatever works best for the writer. Personally, I think I'm somewhere in the middle; I have a vague outline and a couple main sign posts I know I want to hit and where, and then the rest is much more as-I-go.

It's like taking a road trip; I know the start and end points, and have already noted where the rest stops and maybe a Starbucks are; the rest will happen as it happens. Maybe I'll decide I don't need the rest stop, and maybe I'll decide I want Dunkin instead of Starbucks. Maybe I'll decide on a scenic detour that adds 20 minutes to the drive but is worth it; maybe I'll realize I could get there faster by taking a shortcut. But the trip itself stays the same, at a fundamental level.

Feedback motivates me to write, so I do like to write as I go; but if you do that, particularly with lengthy stories, you also have to be super organized about the loose threads or details which need explained before the end. I'm not perfect at that, but am working on it.

33. Give your writing a compliment.

I like to think I have above-average dialogue skills, which is really really helpful when writing fanfiction in particular. Nothing throws me out of a story faster than a conversation I just can't hear those characters actually saying.

Thanks so much for the ask!

#ask box #fanfic #fanfic writing

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psyilluminate · 1 month

Text

Introduction, rabbit hole, personal note

Personally I've lost sense of what a feeling sounds like. I just know my sight to see the world is veiled by my ambivalence with being a part of it and that feels like something.

What trips me up is the words and phrases all smashed into 90 second videos, interfering with my ability to actually do anything because I'd rather watch than play, an unfamiliar game. All the words we have for brainwashing. Insemination, dogmatic, narcissistic, propaganda shoved down the opticals, spectacle.

The ironic, the hopeful, maybe this will help someone else while they go through the process, now I'm wondering if sharing actualizes what you're doing, and I'm afraid to share. Or if it just contributes to the fog. Discovering that this fog is a smoke filled consciousness echo, saying fix this fix that fix it. Inside a self righteous thunderdome for the entertainment of many, and the first platforms to live stream genocides.

Have you not experienced ego death? OH, its radicalizing, you have to see for yourself then maybe you'll understand where I'm coming from.

Am I being dramatic.

Whatever, I'm bothered.

Bothered by society, bothered by humanity, or the lack there of, fully aware that I'm bothered by my perception but I promise I've seen through others, brightly colored, softly toned, calm stone below the crisp and shallow puddle but still underneath it all, I come back here for a reason.

There's something with our psyche, a bug, a virus, an error alert you can't just hit X. Ultimately I feel like we could at least agree on that. We deal with these popups all day, in many different ways.

Ok ok, scroll past the rabbit hole or read me through

It's intermission during the show and we decide mid conversation to start remembering backwards all the things we had said. And its really fucking hard, like memory is weird enough and now it's being tested? But I really think it's necessary, and arguments are inevitable. And to get past it all we need to be is open with a filter, the rest is just the process, processing, in a perfect mind.

But were not, we don't have perfect minds, we don't live in a perfect world, I haven't been able to re trace a conversation without yelling since the first time I tried when we were like 10 or something.

So what if we're required, to stop and listen, hear the experiences around me, its not just mine that weighs when I'm crying, there are so many of us and we all have our own to share.

Small set backs you re-calculate and re code, continue with the day. Within that we have different understandings of a small set-back.

But harsher road blocks are placed systemically for us to go through together because how the hell can a mind be well, when you have a piece of it brutalizing and dehumanizing itself with its apparently gained power? I know we can do this to ourselves everyday in small ways.

And how are we supposed be okay with this as reality! It's so easy to close your eyes when the worst isn't happening to you. The thing is there's a worse state of being that you just thought of, or you might agree that it's a malfunction to normalize the effects of poison without treating it's sickly condition. A trick of the mind.

We rationalize our misfortunes under the pretense that one is better then one, then dare to say we deserve what we have because of who I am. And who are you?

The child of a mother of a mother of a mother, where do you think I came from?

I'm going to share a corner of grief, because under the screen under the stars under the eye lids and empty hellos, I'm really fucking lonely.

I noticed you in my fear of connection, reconnecting, wanting to connect.

I've deleted, blocked and removed myself from all social platforms at least 3 times, and in just that moment of humiliation erased every number, every face, every voice, every friend that ever existed within a 10 year sphere of community. Which sounds just digital but it showed me how badly I keep in touch. That has something to do with being seen, and everything to do with seeing myself. Why is that so disgusting. 12th house sun? 1st house rising? Probably my Mercury in Pisces, something aspects around and around this deep dark pit and it makes me so fucking difficult to be around.

They tried to teach me but I don't think I understand.

And I think that's what I am most pissed off about. From the age of diapers, according to my mom, I had an expression of no fucking way are you gonna control me. Have charge over me. And with that one moment I became free to destroy myself as long as it was safe.

As long as someone could watch.

As long as someone knew.

And I never got prepared to protect myself.

With all the appreciation and gratitude I owe my parents, and the adults that raised me in tandem, and the blessing of a life I was gifted into, today I still I have to stop myself from blaming every figure that just watched me as I walked myself off a fucking cliff.

I was a kid, why wouldn't anyone stop me. Or why didn't they know? I guess they tried in they're own way, even today the way people help doesn't seem to get though my thick ass skull. So it really is still.. me huh.

Because I knew EXACTLY what I was setting myself up for, it just happened to be rooted in slowly slowly slowly ruining myself, my ambition, my hopes, my dreams, my goal was never to succeed, not in a new smart gifted way it was to ruin myself so I could at least now, finally, have a concrete reason for why I just cant get it done.

And that's going to be a whole conversation about privilege.

Right now I just feel failed by myself and anyone who could have guided me. Even typing I'm thinking fuck! I should take it all back!

And this is the feeling, so maybe to forgive myself and everyone else I have to be okay with this feeling. Because I know things now, and I knew parts then, but I stayed quite, silent, dismissive, and willing to see what would happen. Which sounds a lot like eating the poison.

But I don't know where I am now, 10 years have passed and in a very very strange way, I'm back where I started, with a twist, and it's kind of laughable, and I am maybe enjoying this, but there is a lot, a lot to talk about.

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jvstheworld · 8 months

Text

The Buffy Re-watch: S1E9 (part 1)

What's my Line?: Part 1

Career fairs. We had one at my school, never went to it. Those tests weren't a part of it though, from what I know. More just stalls and people chatting.

Even here Buffy does not think she would have have a life beyond slaying and an early death.

Spike has a Latin translation book. Yet he wasn't thrilled at getting a Italian phrase book from his trip in season 5 in Angel.

Spike immediately apologises to Dru for being angry and rushes to help her when she is struggling. He's supposed to be evil but he's a sweetheart really.

He's obsessed with Buffy, we know it even now.

Ermm... Can I be kissed like that? Because that was hot. And then he picks Dru and dances with her. Again, evil but romantic.

Angel just casually hanging out in Buffy's room, cuddling Mr Gordo. The hanging out in Buffy's room is weird, like why not wait on the bench on the porch? But the cuddling the pig was cute.

So in my last post I said that I would make a very long point. It will get a bit personal, so here it is: I hate how schools and parents try to make you have an idea about your future at 16. it's stupid and puts unwanted pressure on teenagers. Let's face it, no one, especially nowadays, knows what the fuck they are going to do with the rest of their lives. I was one of those people that never knew at that age and that was 11 years ago. I've only recently figured it out, which is why I write these posts. Not because it's fun (it is but that's not the main reason) but because I am practicing to hopefully do this as a career. But, with the advent of AI journalism and writing, there might not be much of a job for me, and that's terrifying. It's why I support the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, not just because they deserve to be paid, residuals and have all the safety protocols they need, but for the job security that AI can take away. You should not be able to replace humans with algorithms that churn out mis-mashed, stolen work. Kids and teenagers are still learning about their place in the world, some might have a clear idea of what they want to do, and they should be helped to achieve it. For people like Buffy and myself, we need more time. We need to believe that we might have a future before we can plan for one. I know that Buffy does eventually get a future and a job she is proud to do in the comics, but it is an extremely long road for her to get there. Struggling and finding your place in the world is normal, more so in recent years. I don't know how many times I have listened to my dad talk about how he knew at 18 that he wanted to join the RAF. He signed up when he could after being turned down for working at the local coal mine (this was in the 80s). He knew what he wanted to do and did it. However, I can not ever seem to make it clear to him that I struggle with this and I don't think he approves of my choice to do this sort work because he doesn't understand the interest I have in films and TV. Some of my favourite YouTube channels are Cinema Therapy, Cinema Wins and Dead Meat because they get it. They have that passion for film and TV and that interest into how it's all made. Now if I had the confidence to create and run my own YouTube channel, I would. Unfortunately due to my anxiety, depression and chronic health issues that like to cause me problems I have to stick to just this. But there is nothing wrong with not knowing what you want to do when you're 16 or older. You can work it out as you go, it might just take some time and maybe better circumstances . Just focus on getting through school and go from there. Don't let anyone pressure you into making decisions about your life if you're not ready for it.

If that made no sense, sorry. If it did, yay. I wrote it in my notes as almost one long stream of consciousness. This happens on occasion.

Back to regular scheduled programming tomorrow.

#buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #angel #spike #buffy rewatch #tv show thoughts #btvs s2

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the-down-upside-finch · 6 months

Note

Hi! I'd love to know more about Navigating Peril With a Compass and a God - I love the name and am very curious about it (also about Deck Them All and Half-Hour Identity??)

OH YES I will gladly tell you about them! They are all somewhat older stories that I revisit from time to time, although I would like to brush up on their plots a bit more at some point.

I'll probably include snippets I think are funny, but they're all really old bit so please bear with me ;~;

This... is going to get long, so I'll just put it under the cut now haha

Navigating Peril With a Compass and a God

I know exactly where this story spawned from. There was a writing prompt that I couldn't get out of my head: "You make a sarcastic joke to your friend about them being god-like. They don’t catch the sarcasm part of it and confess that they are, in fact, a god."

The story is in 1st person and follows the protag/narrator, Lupine Rowling, as he goes through his first year in college. (I started this story during my senior year in high school and initially had no idea how colleges worked, by the way.) His roommate, Circinus, is a bit... odd.

“Uh… yeah.” I tried not to rudely stare at the guy that was now glancing up from where he was standing; the blender was disassembled across the counter in front of him with the screws and whatnot lined up from smallest to biggest. “Who’re you?” “Circinus.” “That’s a cool name,” I said, not really knowing what else to say. It’s not exactly every day you walk into your dorm and find a stranger having broken in to take apart the blender.

Long story short, Circinus wasn't taking his duties seriously enough and got dropped on Earth as punishment, but then this becomes a problem when Lupine accidentally finds out that he's a god. (Apparently this is the plot of one of the Thor movies??? I have never seen them but that's what a friend told me.)

So they end up embarking on a quest road trip to appease the angry gods that don't want humans to meddle with their affairs (even though Lupine literally did nothing), which in turn accidentally makes everyone think these two college students have gone missing/gotten kidnapped. SO NOW THEY'VE GOT "Have you seen this person?" SIGNS ALL OVER THE PLACE WHILE THEY'RE TRYING TO BE INCONSPICUOUS.

On top of that, some of the gods naturally place a bet on the situation, so random deities keep showing up to either help or hurt the chances of Lupine and Circinus making it to their destination. It becomes a found-family story pretty quickly haha

Deck Them All

Okay this one. This one. Uhhhhh...

So, in high school, I discovered what stream of consciousness was and became literally obsessed with William Faulkner's writing, and his books are now one of my special interests haha BUT ANYWAYS--

The plot? I have no idea. I started writing it with no plan or ideas, just whatever came to my mind while I was writing. The story POV jumps around the main group of characters, all which have the most random names because I came up with them on the spot.

The characters include: Diamond, Ace, Bean, Trill, Halls, Snow, Jak, Rams, Sheeps, Socks, Verl, June, and Chirp. They're all high school students (since I started writing this while in HS).

The original draft of this story is very style-imitation as I was trying to figure out my own SoC voice, which means I ended up with chaos like this:

My chair is backing Halls if I sit in it properly and face the computer on the desk that the chair is at. Halls would be backing me, too, but he is sitting with the chair back against the desk so he is facing me as he awkwardly sits there. He is looking at his pocket or something in a weird way, fingering the fabric as if trying to tie a knot together; it’s really odd. Halls is a bit odd. But he’s a good friend. Rams thinks so and I think so and the only person that doesn’t think so is Socks and Socks is a jerk most of the time so his opinion really doesn’t matter. Halls said he cheated on a test once and Halls told on him and that’s why Socks hates him but I feel like that’s a really stupid reason to hate someone so it’s got to be more than just that. Not to mention that Socks likes Halls’s sister which is actually really funny because Snow isn’t someone I think would be the right person for Socks but honestly you never know how things will go these days. “Here, help me staple my pants.” My head whips around at Halls’s words. He’s holding a stapler out to me, holding together the fabric of his jeans on his hip that has ripped. What the heck, Halls, I think, What the heck. He imploringly looks at me, so I take the stapler. “Can’t you fix it later?” “I’ve gotta fix this now.” He turns slightly to the side, pulling the denim as far as it will stretch to allow me to staple the fabric back together. I attempt to do so, but it doesn’t hold. I try a couple more times, none which are successful. “Let’s just take it to the sewing room,” I complain. “No this will work.” What the heck, Halls. What the heck.

Honestly? My SoC voice hasn't changed all that much except I don't have as many giant chunks of text like that. I definitely want to find a way to finish it at some point.

Half-Hour Identity

This one is probably the least-developed of my short WIPs, but this is my "magical girl trope" story! It started out as a normal superhero story but then I was like. "What if the powers are transformation based and also run on a time-limit." And thus this story was born.

We've got three main characters, and (you guessed it) 1st person POV but the POV jumps between the MCs. We've got Poppy Mills, Hickory Jones, and Watson Woods, who all live together in a townhouse.

Hickory is clairvoyant, and the only one who was born to parents that didn't have powers (and is known as an "enigma"). Poppy can grow flowers from certain spots on her body, and each type of flower has a different effect when consumed (narcotic, strength-boost, healing, etc.) and Watson... has super speed, but he also gets motion sickness.

The gimmick of the powers is that once you transform, you only can stay transformed for a limited amount of time before you revert and can't transform until that amount of time passes. So, if you have an hour limit, it takes an hour to reset before you can transform again. (This is subject to change if I feel like tweaking the conditions.)

And when I say "transform," I literally mean like a magical girl transformation. It's the only time you can use your powers in this world, and the higher-ranked heroes are ones with really long limits and strong powers, which usually don't go hand-in-hand.

Poppy's limit is 30 minutes, which is where the title comes from. Watson's is stupidly long (around 8 hours), and his power is considered really strong, so he's just been nerfed by the motion sickness thing. Hickory's is stupidly short (ten minutes, max), but this means it resets very quickly and he uses that to his advantage.

Anyways... Yeah! Thanks for asking about these stories! I love talking about my ideas haha

#ZootaWrites #Zeta Rambles #About the OCs #Long Post #Snippets #Zeta Replies #the-grim-and-sanguine

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safyresky · 1 year

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YOOO hellooo!!

Okay! It took me awhile to think of some titles, lmao, BUT:

Snap, Crackle, Pop

Road Trip

Lazy Day

Poker Face

Ghost Town

These are all from my braino but I DID at one point consult a fic title generator just to see what it cooked up and the first result was “Case of the Blue Pygmy” which— you don’t have to do anything with, but thought you’d appreciate bc it had me absolutely. HowLING. Catch Mel constantly referring to Jack as “the Blue Pygmy” from this point onwards, lmaooooo.

ALSO ALSO PLEASE tell me about Fino’s orcish rival, they sound fab!!! The Lucy in me is already shipping like mad! 🥺🥺💖

THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT THIS ORCISH FELLOW OF FINO'S (not to sound like my 60 plus year old neighbour) BECAUSE I LOVE HIM TO BITS (orc friend shenanigans under cut)

ANYWAY, HERE'S WONDERWALL PROMPT REPLIES

Snap, Crackle, Pop

Would take place in Pyros House Arrest AU. Could also be called "How Jacqueline Finally Got Used To Having Her Evil Uncle Around".

CRYSTAL SPRINGS SPOILERS ABOUND

In which, during multiple midnight rice krispies cereal excursions, Jacqueline and Pyros start to sort of get along. Sort of. Would include: a lot of roasting (Pyros is like is this how Blaise is going to kill me dead if I don't behave?? His teenage/young adult daughter just roasts me to death with WORDS?!). Unpacking the whole, uh, evil mind control bit, and uh. All that. As well. She doesn't forgive her Uncle for taking away her agency and attempting to destroy everything she knows, however, she can make him see how bad that was. Y'know. Through ROASTING. Until the ice breaks with a shitty joke >:)

CRYSTAL SPRINGS SPOILERS UN-ABOUND

Road Trip

The Legates get de-magic'd and have to road trip cross country (countries?!?!?) to get their magic back in working order.

This one is an ANCIENT idea that popped into my head MANY years ago when I was at the Big Apple. Not New York, no; at the Big Apple, Canada, which is this roadside attraction off the highway in the Trenton/Kingston corridor. It's. Well.

It's a Big Apple.

Google it.

You Will See why I say it is a CURSED OBJECT. The guy who created it was inspired by DISNEYLAND I shit you not. The view from the top of the apple is abysmal. IT'S ON THE SIDE OF THE 401. THERE'S NOTHING TO SEE BUT TREES AND PEOPLE DRIVING BAD AND ANYWHERE FROM 20 TO 40KM OVER THE LIMIT. Their claim to fame, aside from the giant murderous apple that could TOTALLY be a weeping angel, are apple based products. They only got an apple orchard like in the last 5ish years. They have existed for at LEAST twenty.

ANYWAY they have this sign at the front of the shop that just has like, all these locations and how far from the Big Apple they are, and one of them is the North Pole, and every time I see that sign (I regret to admit I have stopped at the big apple too much for my liking), I think of a scenario where Jacqueline tries to poof herself and several legates, but their magic is fuckey so who KNOWS where they'll end up, and when they appear she sees the 401, sees the big apple, and is just like GOD FUCKING DAMMIT. Thankfully a witch she knows has a little shop down the street so they go there for help! (Mel perhaps? Who's to say!)

Lazy Day

Blaise tries to have a lazy day. It does not go well at all. This man is inCAPABLE of doing nothing. Winter catches him prepping dinner and she almost freezes him solid. She's like, this is not how a lazy day works. Blaise is like but we need to eat and Winter's like I CAN COOK, DEAR, BACK TO THE COUCH GO ON NOW DON'T MAKE ME KNOCK YOU OUT

Poker Face

Either Winter enters a poker tournament and cleans everybody out, gets banned from poker tournaments. OR. A 1000 word piece on all of Blaise's tells told from Winter's POV (maybe a stream of consciousness bc I think Winter's thoughts must be very funny) that explains why he's so easy to read (to her) because, believe it or not, Winter doesn't actually cheat at cards ;)

Ghost Town

Diteline kids find themselves in a right pickle when they are trapped in a literal ghost down. It is deserted except for ghosts. Robyn and Eira/Bianca (still haven't decided on which name for her ): won't stop bickering about which one of the two of them got the three siblings stuck in the Ghost Town. Robyn's like you shouldn't have opened the weird door! And Eira/Bianca is like YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WENT hey sis check out this cool scroll, and ACTIVATED IT MISTER OU LOOK AT ME, I CAN WARLOCK!

While the two youngest are arguing, Joy reaches out and touches a ghost and it goes from a passive little floating sad sack to a murderous violence machine, making things about 1000% worse.

So now the three have to fend off all the murderous shades while trying to figure out why they're trapped and if putting the ghosts back in the afterlife will free them from Ghost Town because Mom's making burritos tonight and Mater made an angel food cake with SPRINKLES IN IT and this is one of the FAVOURITE dinner/dessert combos the kiddos have.

Object: Figure out why the ghost town exists, fight the ghosts to get the town fixed, and make it back home in time for dinner!

Their moms have no idea where the kids are today. It's just a fun evening of cooking for them, while their kids are facing The Horrors.

---

"The Blue Pygmy" sounds like some kind of very inconvenient little monster, so I think Mel's onto something with dubbing Jack that lmao. Either that, or it's a weird magibean cold/flu 😂😂😂😂.

DR. MILLER, WE'VE GOT PYGMYS, CODE BLUE and she's like well SHIT! and rushed over to be a bamf doctor witch as she do!

Anyway, thanks for sending this in!

(from this post: send me a made up fic title and i'll tell you what i'd write about)

RIGHT SO ORC FRIEND

I haven't even NAMED HIM YET but he snuck his way right into my heart (and also Fino's! Fun fact! Of all 4 kiddos Fino is the only one to ACTUALLY TELL A PERSON HE LIKES THAT HE LIKES THEM. He's the suave one out of all 4, believe it or not. Jack is like "I'll keep everything bottled up inside until I DIE", Jacqueline is the most OBLIVIOUS mother fucker and then, when aware, an absolute MESS of a magibeing, and Fiera panics hard before finally attempting to take the first step if she doesn't get overwhelmed with uh. EMOTIONS and EVERY WORD SHE WNATS TO SAY EXPLODING ALL AT ONCE while she's trying to do the asking) and I am soft for him and Fino! Ah!

BUT ANYWAY when Fins is in caster school, he meets this orc who always, always, ALWAYS has to get better marks than him. It's like a competition. Very one sided, bc Fino's just vibing and happy to learn. But Orc Friend is like, if I do not surpass this sprite I will surely perish.

Turns out, the orc is under a lot of pressure from a parent to DO BETTER for w/e reason, and our orc friend is very stressed until one day he like, explodes when Fino gets half a mark better than him on an ALREADY PERFECT TEST.

Fino, who has 0 concept of this competition being a thing, is like dude. Okay. Why is this a thing. Why are you so upset, the only reason I got a half mark more was b/c of this doodle here! Like why are you pitting us against each other, that's how you get RANK mental health!

And the orc admits that his parent or parents really want him to be top of his class and DO BETTER and he's really, really trying but he doesn't LIKE it and it's taking the joy out of learning all the magic shit and Fino is, of course, appalled bc learning is SO FUN TO HIM. HE LOVES THAT SHIT. How DARE someone make learning NOT FUN. ILLEGAL

So they become study buds and Fino helps him like, love learning again. Orc friend does a LOT better when Fino is making it fun and helping him not feel the pressures of home life NEEDING him to do good! He's just doing it! And their one-sided rivalry ship becomes a funky two-sided FRIENDLY rivalry that they both ham up on occasion (Fiera is very proud when Fino fake dies when Orc Friend does better than HIM by half a mark, Orc Friend thinks it's gd hilarious) and Orc Friend now has a Fino Friend!

Anyway, they become roommates later on and Fino brings him to holidays and shit and he v much becomes one of the family and is often referred to as Fino's partner :) I'm still debating if Fins is on the aro scale or not, so this bit's a little murky, BUT it is so important to me that you know that when Fino's like oh I like this dude more than normal, he is like to Orc Friend "Hey man, I think ur real neat, wanna go out??" Like. It is SO IMPORTANT TO ME THAT YOU KNOW, THAT EVERYONE KNOWS, THAT FINO IS THE ONLY FROSTY KIDDO TO ACT NORMAL WHEN LIKING SOMEONE. SO IMPORTANT TO ME TO MAKE THIS KNOWN.

okay I opened this ask with this bit but I have gotten uh, carried away with Orc Friend (who feels like a Ken?? But that CAN'T be right), so imma just. Slide this under a cut and pretend I STARTED with the uh, original ask box shenanigan :o

but YEAH. Holidays at Frost Manor are FUN in later years. Fino and Orc Friend are like, sparring together in the backyard, talking smack and shit (it's their flirting). Fiera's latest catch is probably schmoozing the parents, unless it's her one long term partner who is SO fucking normal, he's probably like, grilling with Blaise and Fiera is just sitting at the bench like, ogling him like "my god. my god he is flipping burgers while holding the WORST beer ever. He is so normal. holy shit. I'm love him".

Dite and Jacqueline are being v cute, or, Dite is being a sweetheart while Jacqueline either A) ogles Dite being sunshine incarnate while Fiera ogles mister normal, or, B) doing something absolutely batshit with the Diteline kids (depending where in the timeline we are) and dodging Fins and Orc Friend sparring.

Suddenly Jack goes flying through a window, lands in a heap. Killian sticks his head out the broken window, laughing at Jack's pain.

Just another holiday at Frost Manor ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#long post #sorta #dani answers #definitelyy-not-a-vampire #ask box shenanigans #crystal springs #crystal springs FACTS #fino's orc friend #frost family #I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT THE BLORBOS AS YOU CAN SEE #AND DITELINE KIDS ARE THE DEFINITION OF 'SHENANIGANS'#Blaise has to relax in that scenario bc of either too much work related stress OR he got a magical sickness and needs to rest it off #but refuses to rest #so winter's like. HOUNDING HIM #the BLORBOS. I JUST. AH.

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fandomdaydreamer · 2 years

Text

The Lighthouse and The Ocean

Pt 20

Operación Trasnochar

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Warnings: none, (bad Spanish?) Mexican party written by a non-Mexican

Summary: Pedro senses that what Nini needs is another distraction. They attend their friends' wedding reception before things go slightly sideways.

Notes: Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist and Playlist -here-

Length: 9.5k

Operación Trasnochar

For once they weren't listening to any music. Their CD had finished playing a while ago and they simply hadn't bothered to put on something else. Instead, they simply let the wind rush through open windows, listening to the crickets down in the yellow grass as they drove by. The mild, steady stream of air eased Pedro's mind. He had long grown fond of the constantly changing, sweet or tangy and smokey scents of summer.

Nini rested her head on his shoulder, almost pushing her nose into his shirt as she cuddled into him across the shared front seat of their old truck. She was way more clingy and needy than normal during the road back to Durango but he found it to be quite comforting for him as well. No aftercare in the world could make his lingering doubts and bad consciousness simply disappear, even after she refused to accept his apologies for being so rough with her. He could only try to make it up to her by pampering her with constant reassurance. Pedro kept rubbing lazy circles onto her thigh, feeling like they shared sweet nothingness in the same silent space while the road wound on and on.

He had been caught up in enjoying the drive, barely putting any long-time memory on the road behind. He wouldn't drive fast, not if it meant that their trip was slowly coming to an end. But the sun was slowly setting and kept distracting his vision.

He had sought out nothing but peaceful dreaming until he noticed Nini starting to circle her bracelet around her wrist. Instantly, he realised something suddenly went wrong from there as he sensed a low level of distress thickening the air. "Nini?" He asked unsure what was wrong or if her mood swing was his fault. When she retreated from his side and looked outside the window instead of answering, it became an unnerving kind of silence.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her picking at the still healing scabs on her wrist. "Hey, no don't- don't do that." He stilled her hand and worried when her apologetic smile felt a little off. Unfortunately, he needed to shift the gears again and had to let go of her hand. "Are you alright?" Pedro asked and watched her simply press her lips together and nod stiffly. All of her efforts to remain calm on the outside couldn't fool him. She was obviously not fine but looking at the road ahead, she made it appear as if nothing was bothering her at all.

Pedro couldn't be fooled by the act she tried to put up. He looked back and forth between the road and her, training his eyes on her seemingly carefully controlled expression for longer than it was even safe to do so.

Eventually, she shook her head mutely as tears started to gather in her eyes.

"Hey, what-" Pedro let the car slow down until he stopped beside the country road, immediately turning towards her after he had killed the engine.

"I don't know, I don't know." She finally admitted, stuttering. "I don't-" she let out a breath through hollow cheeks in her overwhelmed state. Pedro shushed her, maybe a tiny bit too frantically when he caught her hands. "I'm right here." He tried to assure her but she focused on the stilled landscape.

Nini's movements remained slow. Her breath was slightly too deep to keep up her composed appearance but this wasn't even close to the panic attack he had witnessed. She just seemed like she couldn't articulate her feelings, couldn't put her finger on these dreadful but familiar symptoms that came out of nowhere sometimes. Anxiety. He recognised it, he'd seen it before, felt it before himself. This was what life was like for her sometimes, sadly. He wished he could do more than just be here.

Pedro kept both her hands enveloped in one of his. "Baby, look at me?" He felt startled when her gaze hit his. He was met with a lifeless expression. She wasn't here with him at all. All he could see was the inner turmoil circling in her blank, expressionless eyes that seemed to be drawn so far away from him. Her light and her spunk were just gone. "You don't know?" He repeated calmly but she remained unresponsive.

He understood why she had tensed up and her words would fail her at this moment. The closer they got to Durango, the darker her presence and their way ahead grew. Behind them lay their bubble of sweet escapism and the place they had once thought to be exactly that was filled with people she still felt she had let down. It suddenly appeared too real. They had but a tiny week left before she'd leave that world again to start a new, scary chapter in her life.

They didn't have to point it out, didn't have to remind themselves that they should slowly come to terms that they'd have to adapt. Real life would catch up with them soon enough... then they'd have to figure out how to work outside of paradise. They both knew it wouldn't be the same.

He felt it too, the separation anxiety that was rooted in the fast progression of their diminishing time together. Pedro swallowed thickly but his soft smile still reached her. It was enough for her to return it, albeit thinly. "What?" She asked, somewhat amused about witnessing an idea forming in his head.

He knew just what to do. It was a foolproof method to steer her clear from her enemies when the battle in her head had begun. "You know, I was just thinking that Jenny and Diego will probably only accept our donation if we actually showed up for real." He mentioned casually.

Nini frowned, not able to hide her scepticism when he continued. "I mean, would be a downright shame if we didn't seize the chance to attend a Mexican wedding reception, right?" He said like he hadn't been the one who said they couldn't stop by.

Slowly, the downward curve of her mouth turned into a smile, which broke out into a grin and suddenly she couldn't stop tearing up in relief and sobbing out a laugh. One last stop, a final treat they couldn't actually afford but which he refused to fear any consequences of. Pedro beamed at her, once again squeezing her hand and placing a kiss there.

"That's settled then." It wasn't as much about partying but prolonging their journey. He'd fuck up their schedule and let them celebrate a sweet moment of hedonism until Nini was exhausted enough and ready to close their holiday.

He went to turn the ignition but Nini stopped his hand. "We can't, we'd break curfew." She protested with a tiny laugh and Pedro only pretended to think about her point. "Operación Trasnochar is on." He said sternly and she drew her eyebrows together in confusion until he pulled out his phone and typed Chiwetel a message that contained these exact words. No more, no less. A reply came in a mere second later.

21:46 - Copy

"What are you guys planning? What's operation trasnochar?" Nini chuckled after Pedro had put his device away again in a comically unsuspicious manner.

"Nothing too spectacular, just a little scheme." He answered with boyish naughtiness in the quirk of his eyebrows. "A what?" "Unfortunately, we've seen too many movies and we made a deal that, if anything delays our return, they'd do anything to make it appear as if we're there and basically, lie. Hopefully, Jim will eat it up and we've got a time window of exactly-" He took a moment to count. "Seven hours, hence trasnochar, which means... that we're going to stay up late." As soon as he'd said it, he realised what this meant for his already fucked up sleep schedule.

Nini had listened attentively but then her face started an expression of laughter before it erupted from her. "That's so unnecessarily extra. That's such a 'you' thing to do. Can we get away with it?" She asked in disbelief.

He made a little sound that reflected a certain degree of internal panic. "We better."

Her eyes lit up. "Decoys? Recordings of our voices? Paper cutouts of our bodies?" She rambled out her ideas.

Pedro was impressed. "Damn, remind me to include you next time. No, just a series of eyewitnesses. It's harder now Tilda the brain has left Mexico already but apart from her, the entire gang would conspire against Jim, even his PA."

"You got Laura to lie to Jim?" She asked, alarmed and he crossed his chest. "Girl scout honour."

Nini shook her head. "You'll get absolutely no sleep again because of me, absolutely not."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Come on, I'm gonna be there Tuesday morning to shoot my scene. You know what, they're gonna have to deal with my last-minute appearance." He acted bitchy and entitled on purpose and it made her laugh again. Yeah, he'd be exhausted, would probably be better off with caffeine directly infused into his bloodstream but by everything good on this earth, Nini was his girl and she was absolutely worth every torturous minute tomorrow.

"Okay." She replied unsure and in slightly overwhelmed giggles. "But just a couple of hours."

He started the car up, winked at her and steered it back onto the road. They continued their journey, only this time, she seemed to feel much lighter-hearted now their destination was altered.

~~~

At the end of a path sidelined by colourful paper lanterns, a crowd of laughing and dancing people were celebrating underneath rows of white papel picado. The atmosphere seemed to capture the beauty of Mexican culture in its vibrant and gorgeous colours and made them feel like they had entered heaven alive. The night hung low with light and spicy smells as they were taken where there was music and laughter.

Fireflies danced away into the darker parts of the night and the closer they neared the party, the louder the thrumming of live music became. It felt like waking up inside a cinematic fantasy that seduced them to feast and unload their minds.

Especially for Nini, this was a nice distraction from the things that were too overwhelming for now. Pedro watched her spirits reignite at the sight of this turbulent celebration. The culture shock caused the lights to sparkle in the reflection of her wide eyes as she stared with an open mouth. She seemed to refuse to exhale her excited gasp but suddenly, her face fell. "Those are a lot of people." She choked out and stopped in her track, noticing they were the only late guests.

Pedro placed his hand on her lower back to make her feel a bit safer. "You up for it?" He asked and smiled when she cringed and then nodded at him, letting him lead her towards the crowd.

Family and friends were gathered underneath the fairy lights, alternating between leaving for another fill of an enormous variety of foods and going back in to participate in the most exquisite flamenco dancing. The music played loud and rhythmic, danceable classic songs played by a band that consisted of several elderly men Pedro envied for their energy as well as their moustaches.

The men and women were mostly engaged in boisterous chatter and Pedro found this very typical for large Latin American family gatherings. It spread a familiar, warm feeling inside his chest. People nurtured their glasses and cursed when the occasional child ran through the crowd to chase after the other. They were beautiful people in a beautiful place, honouring what it meant to be essentially human as they swayed their hips or twirled around with joined hands and laughter on their faces.

They approached feeling as somewhat awkward strangers but soon noticed they were neither underdressed nor unwelcome. People they'd previously met at the farm yelled out their names and toasted their glasses to them after they had barely breached their bubble. For a brief moment, they became the centre of attention and were already shaking hands and sharing hugs and kisses before they realised what was happening.

Just when the band had finished their song, he felt like they had finally arrived at the heart of the party's fantastic buzzing energy.

"Where?" Jenny's voice rising above the cheering applause made them whip their heads around and grin widely. "Oh! Nini, Pedro! You came!" The bride hugged both of them at the same time. "I can't believe you two!" She yelled furiously.

"We couldn't let this pass, of course, we did." Pedro chuckled. Diego followed and joined next, first draping his arms around their group hug and finally hugging Pedro individually. He then picked a squealing Nini up from the floor when it was her turn.

"Congratulations, to both of you. This is amazing." Pedro gestured around excitedly and Nini joined in once she was at his side again. "Jenny, you look beautiful, you both look so happy." She complimented her wonderfully arranged hair and wedding dress.

"Isn't she?" Diego agreed, slightly glowing from the drinks he had already consumed. He pressed an affectionate kiss onto his new wife's temple and nearly tipped her over.

They laughed until Pedro sensed Nini looking down. Someone was tugging at her skirt and she gasped when she saw their little girl grinning up at her. "Rosie, Rosie, Rosie!" Nini chanted at her goofily and picked the giggling child up to hug her close.

Pedro's cheeks hurt from smiling too hard. "Hi, Marcus!" Rosie offered her tooth-gapped smile to him, which Pedro gladly returned. "Hey there, flower girl!" He ruffled Rosie's head and chuckled, putting his arm around his girlfriend's waist after Rosie had run off again. A sigh got stuck in his chest and he reminded himself that there were better times to sort out the paternal instinct invading his feelings whenever he'd seen Nini interact with the little girl.

"I'm so glad you came but now we've got a serious problem, I mean it." Jenny's face went from elevated to furious. She had led them away from the crowd and as soon as he'd seen how urgent her need to get away had become, he already knew what this was about. "Listen, we really- the donation, it's too much, we can't accept it."

"What do you mean?" Nini played dumb but gave Pedro a fond side glance.

Jenny looked bewildered, she scream-whispered at them. "The anonymous donations that went well past anything two normal earning people could afford to contribute?" she assumed correctly, with flushed cheeks. Her hair shook violently. "Our crowdfunding went through the roof after we posted your picture anyway and-" Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked back and forth between them but the words got stuck in her throat. "I don't-"

Pedro smiled encouragingly but sounded strict. "Remember, you said you'd accept anything we'd offer if we joined the party." He reminded her. "Yes but you-" "No buts. It's our wedding gift." "For the planet?" Nini added and took Jenny's hands in hers. "Please, accept it. We support everything you do."

Jenny took another breath to continue their argument. She still wouldn't budge and tried to argue in rapid Spanish, more to herself than anyone else. Pedro interrupted her. "Jennifer, no le escucharé más." "Por favor! Eso es lo que hace la gente rica!" She eventually cursed passionately.

Pedro treated her with a moment of silence while an idea formed inside his head. Slowly, he started nodding when he came up with a solution that could possibly save the day. "Alright, how about this." He folded his hands and looked up again when Diego joined them cluelessly. He grasped the man's shoulder. "What if you used our donation for something that's not directly to your financial benefit?"

Everyone frowned. "What do you mean?" Nini asked, an intrigued and contagious smile tugging at her lips.

"You could buy farmland back for a poor community? Give land back to the people and create a non-profit project." He was suddenly buzzing with energy. "You guys know how to do it, now you have lots of money to spare... which you clearly don't want to accept so..." He added. "Win-win!"

Jenny and Diego shared an amazed look but their quiet exchange slowly turned into determination. The bride then turned towards Nini with a quiver laced into her voice. "Is he always like this?" Jenny asked in a mixture of mortal betrayal and utter adornment, making the group laugh.

Nini wrapped her arms around Pedro's waist tenderly. "He is in my opinion, the nicest person in the history of the universe." She replied softly and Pedro felt a huge blush heating up his face. He stammered out his gratefulness at her opinion but ended up letting out a sound of embarrassment instead.

Nini helped him out. "But don't let his charm fool you completely, he's quite the menace too."

"Ouch," Pedro commented but got distracted when Diego stretched out his hand for them to shake. "Thank you, Pedro, Nini." Finally, someone who was easier to win over. Diego made a dramatic pause as he painted an imaginary rainbow into the air. "To Pedronie communal gardens, qué dicen?" He grinned and raised his glass to their new project.

Pedro stood jaw-slacked, exchanging a shocked expression with Nini. "That's..." He stuttered overwhelmed and started over before he could burst out in tears at the selfless act the couple had committed themselves to with their money. "A terrible name." They could only laugh together, snatching drinks from a nearby tray someone brought up to them.

"Make sure you come visit the project," Jenny ordered them in a strict but choked voice, seemingly about to cry as well. She dabbed her eyes, nodding at them before offering more hugs. "Thank you." She squeezed them and they cooed and comforted each other.

"Vámonos, we have to dance the entire night!" Diego announced loudly and earned approval from the crowd. "Papa!" He yelled above their heads and a man on stage with a guitar and a mighty grey moustache looked up. "Mi Linda Cachita!" People cackled and whistled at the naughty song suggestion when Jenny and her husband stepped onto the dancefloor. They kissed as soon as the band started to play and everyone clapped and cheered for them while they danced, first alone and then together with their three children.

Pedro felt Nini squeeze his hand. "You did well." She passed her words between them and Pedro hummed in protest. After all, it was her money too. "Give yourself at least equal credit." He reminded her. Both sighed as they saw the newlyweds radiating their happiness into infinity, watching them with love and perhaps, a tiny amount of self-satisfaction.

Pedro turned to his happily smiling girlfriend in their somewhat secluded corner of the party, keeping his voice low. "How happy they are." He said, leaning against the exposed bricks.

"I'm glad we came here." Nini admitted after a while of watching them, causing him to turn towards her curiously. "Yeah? Are you enjoying yourself, mi amorita?" He flirted, turning completely and backing her into the wall.

She giggled. "Pedro love, you know me at parties... plus you being kind to people is so fucking hot." She gave back with a rasp in her voice and he felt her sneaking her hand up his wrist, connecting with the sea glass on his bracelet.

"Gotta know what turns you on." Pedro grinned widely, his eyes skipping between her plush lips and charm around her neck. It was too dull to cast any real reflections in the dark and remained tinted in the deepest brown. He rubbed at the pendant hanging from her golden necklace and watched her pupils dilate for a brief moment before she pushed herself off the wall to rise onto her tiptoes. When she tipped her chin up, he cupped her cheek and smiled with her, never able to feel tired of the euphoria that burned inside at any chance he got to kiss her.

A near second later he felt a tug at his shoulders and waist and disconnected from Nini's lips as he was forced to step back. He opened his eyes, confused but also amused at the female giggles around him. A look back made him realise Nini was staying behind while he was being tugged away by a group of cheering women. Her surprised expression was soon followed by a yelp when they came back to grab her hands as well, dragging the both of them amidst the dancing people.

She practically crashed into his chest. "Uh, we can try dancing salsa, I mean this looks-" She carefully analysed the steps. "-doable." Nini assumed and Pedro beamed at her first attempts to mimic the woman beside her. She showed her the basic steps and Nini varied as she twirled in place to make her skirt flare out and dance unlike the other women, presenting her interpretation to her sceptical spectators as she made her lack of Latin dancing skills up with enthusiasm.

Pedro could only stare at her, feeling his heart beating in his throat in affection for her until she came back to him to convince him to join. She tugged at his hand with a toothy smile and in the end, it wasn't hard to give in. He moved quickly to jump scare her before he grabbed her by the hand and began to lead. She danced a lawless salsa with him. It drew their bodies together and apart as they stepped with each other or took turns with all these lovely people.

Nights like these answered the universal question, why they existed and what their purpose in life was. Sharing and affecting the energy of every person they came in contact with, raising the vibrations of the earth together and channelling this very energy. Loving, nurturing friendship and compassion and celebrating.

They partied the night away until well past one in the morning, until no dish was left untasted and the sparks of open fires flew into the night air and faded between the stars.

Pedro was leaning back against his chair at some point, entirely too exhausted from the commotion. While busying himself with tugging air into his shirt and loosening another button, he watched all unmarried women gather behind the bride. Nini failed to catch Jenny's bouquet, of course, and Pedro widened his eyes dramatically into someone's old video camera. It zoomed in on his staged, relieved and shocked expression. The bouquet had sailed far away from its destination and into the lap of a widowed, ninety-eight-year-old lady who winked at him and exclaimed that it was never too late. It was too endearing and the camera caught him getting over there and placing a kiss on her hand, which made her blush and beam at him across her entire wrinkly face.

Back at his chair, his grin fell when a weird, incoherent whining sound came from above. He whisked around to explain himself to a theatrically pouting Nini. "Hay muchas tan hermosas mujeres aqui." He complained loudly to a cackling crowd before cocking his head at his shocked girlfriend. Pedro placed his palm over his heart. "Baby, you're the only one for me, I swear." She giggled at his attempt to catch her and relieve her of her crossed arms but instead, she stumbled into his chair and dropped back into his lap with a tiny scream. He made room for her, surprised but certainly welcoming her here.

"Well, don't start thinking you could have done better because I'm a bad catch." She explained and made him frown at the double innuendo.

Better? His jaw dropped. "Never." He said, scandalised. Out of sheer inability to display any kind of aggressive reassurance in a crowded place like this, he reminded her of his undying idolisation of her character with a firm pinch around her ankle. "I guess the fact that you didn't catch the thing just means you are already married to me and it doesn't count anyway." He purred into her face triumphantly and grinned when she attacked him with a long kiss on the cheek. "You're right." She replied and let him sink his head against her shoulder. Pedro closed his eyes contentedly when her fingers began scratching his beard.

After a while, the band had toned down a bit. The men resumed with their quieter, slower songs, drawing a mellow mood out of everyone and painting the night in muted colours. The music grew more magical as the night progressed and leaned more into soothing and passionate gitano tunes. Now that the early morning hours had begun, a few kids stubbornly refused to go to bed and remained splayed out across some spare chairs. Pedro watched Silas staying sound asleep with a candy wrapper in his limp grasp. It reminded him of his own childhood, the universal act of kids napping while the adults kept partying and nursing their fine drinks.

While Diego's father tuned his guitar, the people dimmed their voices. It was only him this time as he performed a song on his own. His voice was carried by a passionate kind of Latin guitar play that held a deep connection to his roots. It could drown their minds and fill their hearts with yearning.

Nini's hand stopped curling his hair, transfixed by the sounds the old man with grey hair and crooked fingers managed to pluck out of his instrument. It was jarring. Everyone stared at him, truly hypnotised. Pedro realised he'd never heard anything quite like it before either. The man had the most archetypical male flamenco voice and flawless technique. His music flowed like a river and his fingers moved quick and effortless. Everyone stood amazed by how this true master musician could play such a complex melody in perfect rhythm with only six strings. While pouring his soul into the words he sang, his voice sounded like he had lived his life to the fullest. He could hear the hard days of labour in his smokey voice, parties drowning in tequila, like the musician had suffered heartbreak and found true love again, like a thousand cigarettes, many days of laughter and entertaining grandchildren, day after day after day.

Pedro hugged Nini closer, snaking his arms around her waist to rest his lips on her shoulder for a moment and feel her lean back into him.

Some people were going on with their activities while the rest of them listened attentively, sharing similar stances with their partners or close relatives. They remained indefinitely fascinated by the guitar and gentle taps of the man's fingers on its wooden corpus.

Very carefully, Pedro sensed Nini turning towards him. "What is he singing?" She whispered gently, genuinely curious about what had driven the musician to write such a beautiful song.

Pedro sat up straighter and concentrated on listening more closely to the meaning of his words. After a moment, he began to pass the song lyrics to her in a hushed, quiet tone.

"It's knowing there's someone else who lives-" he lowered his tone and could feel an electrical charge pass through them as his voice dripped into her ear. She closed her eyes when he continued his free translation. "I go through your fire, walk on your river and when I climb your hills- you're the gods' finest creation." The lyrics conjured up the image of her soft skin underneath his hands and he felt the strong urge to nip at the exposed length of her neck and barely resisted. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

The man had amplified his voice, playing in full strums now that stole her breath away and Pedro passed on the meaning of his words to her, feeling them resonate within his soul and reflect his feelings. His nose grazed her cheek while his eyes remained fixed on the musician. "Your passion is an enormous force. You are my dream, you are my thoughts," Pedro took a tiny breath of air, let the man finish the last verse and come to a yearningly heart-wrenching end. "I keep missing you and I can't stop... loving you."

Her gaze turned towards him and after their intense silence, they shared a continually growing smile. Another of these indirect love confessions he was sure he'd turn into a real one when the time was right. Her eyes shimmered wetly and he felt their exchange to be mutual, a tender gaze passing through them. It could speak a million times more than words. A promise of infinite kindness towards another as he savoured the way the softness of her eyes lingered on his.

The guitar thrummed one last time and the applause lasted for minutes, tearing their eyes away from each other and joining in. "That was beautiful," Nini said, whisking a thin veil of tears from her eyes between clapping.

Pedro had been sharing some quiet time outside with Diego's mates when he began to feel the night coming to an end. The guys had tried to insinuate some juicy details regarding his new relationship but he had carefully avoided giving even the slightest cue. They already knew more than the general public anyway. "No importa lo que se diga, somos oficialmente una pareja." Pedro replied, maybe they hadn't made an official-official announcement to the world yet but they didn't hide their relationship anymore.

"Ay, sí, yo comprendo. Pedro aprecias un poco de privacidad y... un buen trasero?" Diego's best man commented with a contagiously dirty laugh and promptly received a clap behind the head from the groom himself.

Pedro gasped. "Oye, ten cuidado, viejo. That's my girl, okay?" He ignored their laughter and toasted Diego a thanks with his espresso cup. Even though he would love to brag, he really did because everything about Nini was amazing... including her ass. They snickered at his inability to argue with that statement but he wouldn't objectify his girlfriend. One warning glance later he broke out into a smile but kept their teasing mood in check. He wouldn't kiss and tell. Instead, Pedro planned to go inside and find the woman in question but quickly ground the rest of his cigarette into an improvised ashtray when he watched Nini stumble out of the house.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted him, disrupting the company with a brilliant smile. Pedro exhaled the smoke into the night air above her head, not able to hide the blue clouds but she didn't bat an eye at the bad habit.

"Did you know tequila is not a thing?" She asked loudly and he raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"If it's not, then what have you been drinking?" He chuckled, judging by the fedora she was wearing and which didn't belong to her but Diego's father. The men were cackling again.

"It's always named after the city it was made in!" She exclaimed. "I thought it was just tequila but no. Like champagne is only made in the Champagne."

"That makes much more sense, now that I think of it." Of course, Pedro had known but he wouldn't dream of dampening her amazement.

"I think I'm ready to go now." She said suddenly, changing the topic.

"Alright, baby. I think we should call it a night then." He said and returned her smile when she nodded. "Okay." She closed their distance and granted him a tiny peck on the lips. With all their spectators around, he was painfully aware of how exclusive she was to him and how lucky he was in the eyes of the world. He ignored the group of chuckling men who stood as observers.

Fuck it. Pedro couldn't let the opportunity pass to absolutely boost his ego, kiss her in front of the other guys and let them watch their exchange with noises of strong, brotherly machismo. It was a bit unnecessarily intimate and invasive enough to must have bothered her but it fulled his pride and possessiveness. "What is this about, hm?" She whispered past her grin while they wolf-whistled at them and called them names.

"Let me?" Pedro simply squeezed her side with a heated glow in his eyes, not knowing what possessed him.

He'd picked the wrong woman to play this public game with. "Don't push it, papi." Nini winked at him and then made a show of sharply slapping 'his' ass and walking away with a playful sway in her hips. Of course, everyone stared after this banging hottie who made him have a taste of his own medicine.

Pedro didn't allow their mocking catcalls but his stern reminder for them to behave remained friendly when they welcomed him in their midst. They patted him on his shoulders, confirming that he was the luckiest guy on earth.

They spend an eternity longer saying their goodbyes to many people Pedro would miss. A very emotional newly wedded couple told them how welcome they were anytime and eventually, they were allowed to finally depart.

"We'll be in their wedding clips forever now," Nini whispered giddily as they walked away from the party hand in hand.

She gasped and let him go to rush towards the truck. "Wait, I haven't driven in reverse yet, I could try now!" "No, the fuck you're not." Pedro hooked his fingers into the back of her skirt's belt just in time to stop her. The tipsy woman kept leaning forward. She struggled and huffed but he simply caught her beside him again. After giving her an amused stare down, he roughly pushed the hat down her face to plunge her into complete darkness.

"Ah, lul!" She cursed and thanks to the lessons on Dutch insults, he understood her perfectly fine, thank you very much. He owned it and let out an evil laugh as he took off for the car. A nearby cactus received a fedora and she dashed after him.

~~~

A deep rumble escaped his vocal cords and he stretched after another hour of driving. Pedro growled into the direction of the morning sun. "I'm tired as fuck." His eyes burned from exhaustion but he still nourished a sheer infinite supply of light and happiness inside. It kept him going. Lazy scratches soothed the itch the seat belt had left on his chest and he yawned. Nini exited the car shortly after, stepping onto the street a precautious block away from the hotel.

She hung limply against the car and slumped against the window. "Me too." She replied pathetically... after her nap.

The audacity. "I'm running on zero hours of sleep and caffeine, nicotine and one duvalin." He complained in return after Nini had eaten all the rest of the sweet and sticky sugar pods.

"Well, I am running on high functioning anxiety." She contributed and Pedro deadpanned at her cheerful smile. "I'm sorry, you clearly win this competition." She furthermore sarcasmed and he was only glad she had already turned her back to his spontaneous eye roll. Back at the hotel, the gates were open and they automatically took their favourite secret path around the gardens.

Pedro draped his arm around her shoulders but their amused chuckles died on their lips when the static crackling noise of a walkie-talkie ripped through the air. She stopped dragging her suitcase and they ducked out of sight instinctively, bags and all hidden behind some larger bushes.

Nini was first to spot security by the main entrance of the hotel and stopped Pedro from peaking his head above the greens. Carefully, both resumed watching the security guards through the hedges.

The short one gave a bored answer into the walkie.

"They're looking for us?" He translated after he'd assumed the meaning of her words and cursed.

The frown between Nini's brows deepened. "How many people are in on this operación tres noches, you said?" She asked and ducked further behind the bush again.

Pedro ran his hand over his moustache and lowered his voice conspicuously. "The cast, a couple of insiders in the crew," Pedro answered slowly, mentally counting who was trustworthy. "But non of the security as far as I know. I'm not sure, better be safe than sorry and avoid them."

"Let's try the back door," Nini whispered and Pedro turned his head towards her, very slowly and extremely intrigued. Her jaw dropped in disgust at where his r-rated thoughts went but he couldn't stop himself from grinning at her when she became all flustered. "Don't." She warned him, pointing a finger at him. Pedro kept his mouth shut but they both knew he had poor control over his shit-eating grin. His cheekiness earned him an amused wink anyway and he'd be lying if her consideration didn't make his jaw drop or make him follow her like a puppy. "Wait, do you-" he began but before he could voice his question, she interrupted him.

"Let's just not get caught." She said, completely unbothered by his short brain malfunction. Pedro tried to focus when the guards' instructions to look out for their arrival echoed towards them.

As soon as Pedro and Nini walked around the corner, the scratch of a needle on vinyl stopped them in their tracks. Tom Waits had sat up straight in his lawn chair and the spasm had rendered the record he'd been playing on a portable device mute. The cocktail he had been drinking by the pool sloshed over the rim and he made some kind of desperate, wild gesture for them to hide away. Everything happened so fast, they didn't move a muscle in their confusion but it was too late anyway.

"I can't believe I have to put up with this shit again." Pedro and Nini froze when Jim stalked outside the building, followed closely by Chiwetel. The moment Jim checked his watch, they realised they were prey moving in their predator's immediate vicinity. "They still didn't show up, I'm telling you, I asked for one thing. One thing!" Jim shrugged his shoulders, his voice indicating that he was running on his very last bit of patience.

The only reason why they hadn't been pounced upon immediately was because Jim had his back turned... for now. As long as they stood frozen in place.

Nini didn't even dare to breathe and Pedro clutched her hand while Tom pretended to have merely swatted away a bee.

They eyed each other in panic when Jim gestured out around the terrace. Very slowly, Pedro inched Nini backwards with him, aiming to get behind the corner again. They retreated behind the chipped wall while Jim was held up with a friendly grasp onto his shoulder. Just as he turned to take a look around, they had disappeared behind the wall again, cringing at each other at a scheme failing to meet its one goal. "Shit." They both mouthed at each other.

Chiwetel fought to sustain the pillars of a backup plan that was beginning to crumble. "I don't know. Listen, Jim, I'm not their babysitter either. I could have sworn someone mentioned they were on their way downstairs. They still must be in one of their rooms then. Tom's seen them, right Tom? They were here all night." Chiwetel asked nonchalantly and Tom clicked his tongue, convincingly annoyed as well. "Yeah, man. Whatever."

He couldn't stop her from peeking around the corner again. Pedro glanced over her head too, spying on the scene unfolding before their eyes.

Jim sighed. "You know what I think? You're full of shit. If they're here, then where's the truck? They should have been back by now, I am officially done with the shit they're coming up with on a fucking daily basis. I should fine them for breaching contract, 'fire' them and go for the alternative ending. I've had enough of this!" Chiwetel followed as their fuming director stomped into their view on his long, skinny legs.

Pedro held Nini back instinctively. No wall could protect them from this position. Jim didn't see them, not yet but Chiwetel widened his eyes for a split of a second when he spotted the couple.

Jim became curious enough to follow his gaze, turning slowly. "HAAH!" Chiwetel burst out before Jim could look their way, successfully distracted but only temporary. Chiwetel corrected his slapstick outburst and slapped his arm. "Lots of mosquitoes." The Brit explained dryly and Pedro watched Nini clasp her hand over her mouth. Before she could snort and give their location away, he pinched her nose in foresight and just in time before she twitched and would have given them away with her signature piggy noise.

Pedro put his finger to his lips and she still held her breath until she had calmed down and he released her. "Pedro said-" Jim began and Chiwetel snickered. "Yes, they're such a pain in the arse. I get it."

Nini tugged him back, almost ripping his shirt to make him move in the opposite direction. No way he'd go back to the main entrance with the security still watching out and he made it clear to her by staring furiously and shaking his head.

They relaxed a little when Chiwetel managed to lead Jim back, leaving them protected by the wall again. Nini sighed deeply, thinking hard while she pressed him to the wall by the lapels of his shirt. "Maybe it's time to stop being sneaky." She whispered barely audible above the sound of Jim and Chiwetel arguing. "Time to own up to my mistakes and just come clean? This is what we should do, right? It's what you told me is progress."

"That's a very sweet sentiment but 'such' bad timing!" Pedro hissed and stopped her from moving even in the slightest. "Ah-ah." he kept her close by her upper arms, narrowing his eyes. He let out a deep sigh. "Maybe this is not the right time to start working on your honesty?" He suggested, definitely not willing to risk them getting fired and for Jim to change the movie. "In fact, now is the right time to be sneaky and avoid conflict. Do your worst."

"My worst?" She repeated, a bit too harshly and they talked over each other furiously until Pedro clasped his hand over her mouth. "Shh." He warned her and waited until she stopped glaring at him.

Carefully he released her, as well as a huge breath. "Shit, I wish Tilda was here. This would have run a lot smarter." He said panicked but barely audible.

"Doesn't change a thing now." Nini mouthed back heatedly.

Their partner in crime, on the other hand, stayed calm. "I'm a hundred percent sure they're upstairs. They were definitely in her room all night. They're just late, as always." Chiwetel lied, thanks to his profession, very convincingly. You couldn't but take this actor incredibly serious. Pedro gave him a free pass to look like he absolutely loathed their guts right now. Fair enough.

"Crap." Pedro muttered under his breath "If we don't somehow, magically teleport into your room right now we're f-"

A weirdly unfamiliar bird noise came from above their heads and when they looked up, they spotted Bill from his balcony on the second floor. The older man cupped his hands in front of his mouth. "Plan-B." He whispered from above as silently as possible. Their jaws dropped. Plan B? What plan B?

Bill stared down with a deranged visage and waved for them to step forward. It was risky. The only thing that kept them from being seen was Chiwetel's success at keeping Jim from turning around. All the while, they watched Bill produce some kind of thick, knotted cloth that became longer and longer the more he threw over the bannisters. Surely, this wasn't what Pedro thought it was.

Mutely, Bill gestured what they were obviously supposed to do in his opinion. He pointed at the rope made of bedsheets and at them, back at the rope and then at Pedro's balcony below his own.

This game of charades could only further infuriate him. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." He yelled without a pitch of volume in his voice, punching the air at the man but his outrage was quickly calmed by his much gentler, better half. "What the fuck?" He wasn't nearly loud enough to reach anyone else's but her ears but he cursed to her nevertheless. He stared at the older man on the balcony, back to Nini who couldn't believe her eyes either but at least she had the state of mind to consider it.

Both Pedro and Nini covered their open mouths with their hands to stop themselves from laughing at the most inappropriate time. It was absurd.

Pedro ignored the atypical delighted noise that came from the uninvolved man by the pool. Waits controlled his amusement and leaned back against his deck chair again, enjoying the show with his cocktail in hand. 'Really'? Pedro's eyes seemed to tell him.

Chiwetel was gesturing calmly, but anyone would have been able to deduct the absolute mortification in his eyes when he watched Bill adjust the rope.

Unfortunately, Jim's next intentions were not helping with their current predicament. "And if I went up there myself right now, I'd find them up in her room, right Laura?" Jim asked his PA in a sceptical tone while the girl quivered in her boots. "I'll check and report back to you, sir." She chirped out.

"Do you all think I was born yesterday? You're all in on whatever this is!" Jim yelled, scoffed at their silence and went to leave inside. "Fuck this, I'm checking myself."

Bill grimaced as he put his shoe onto the knot he made on his balcony and pulled, looking every bit like the entire operation depended on his strength. "No! They're probably clapping cheeks or whatnot, urgh, I wouldn't disturb them now." Chiwetel pulled a face of pure discomfort. "They're just late. You know how they are. All they wanna do is smash all the time." He said in annoyance.

Jim continued arguing with him while the couple carefully assessed their position. "What do you think this is? Some Indiana Jones shit? I'm not breaking my fucking arm again." Pedro whispered while Nini tried to convince him to come around and face their only option.

"What choice do we have?" Nini grabbed the rope and their entire interaction happened mutely with aggressive gestures. She tried to convince him to do it while he tried to reason with her that this was the most stupid, craziest way to die. "No fucking way!" Pedro protested mutely, putting his foot down in what he thought was his most convincing gesture and expression of authority. Maybe she could manage to climb up, she weighed nothing but he was not ready to climb two feet into the air and drop on his back and break it. How did she think this would work?

Nini made him understand they were screwed if they didn't, urgently pointing towards his balcony. She pointed at the rain pipe next and raised one finger. 'One floor of a climb from there. Just one. Our friends' credibility is depending on us now, don't be a fucking coward.'

"Shit, fuck it. Just do it!" Nini ordered in a non-yell and Pedro sighed at both Nini and Bill. He paid Tom one last glare while the man slurped his cocktail and finally, tugged at the rope to make sure it was safe.

Somewhere by the pool, Tom started blaring some eighties rockabilly music from the vinyl turntable beside him at a much louder volume, drowning out Jim's and Chiwetel's argument as well as any noises they could produce while climbing the hotel wall.

'You first'. Pedro gestured and offered her to step onto his hands and hoist her up halfway. Nini didn't hesitate and silently climbed up onto his shoulders surprisingly fast. She squished his face with the palm of her hand before she managed to stand on his shoulders. Pedro stabilized her ankles until he felt her weight being lifted off his shoulders. He looked up, ready to catch her if anything happened but the way she set on foot after the after onto the hooks along the rain pipe made it look easy. In a relatively short time, the middle of the rope was in her grasp. One daring jump later she was hanging on the rope and wounding her legs around it.

Her entire body shook after she had pulled herself up the last bit of rope and could finally set foot onto the edge of his balcony. Pedro stopped the hiss from escaping him when her knees scraped against the rough wall. Right, totally a band kid, not a sports club one.

She swayed her legs over the bannisters and almost knocked off a flower pot, catching it at the last moment and nearly giving every spectator a heart attack. Slow breaths, Nini sat the flower pot carefully back down and Pedro ducked behind the bush when Jim turned. Their director took their argument into the building and continued to elaborate how he'd make sure to warn every other director to reconsider hiring the both of them at the same time.

Pedro held his breath when he heard Jim's final blow. "For fuck's sake. If I'm going up there and I find out you were lying-" Jim was too blindsided with annoyance to notice them. "They don't need to bother coming back." He could only hold his breath after Jim seemed to have disappeared under both Chiwetel's and Laura's protest.

Pedro calculated that he had about enough time to climb up there as it took Jim to walk up the stairs and knock on the door.

Tom did nothing, said nothing other than blaring music and sucking on his straw while Bill was sweating unnecessarily to keep a rope in place that was secured enough.

"Here goes nothing," Pedro muttered to himself before he planted his foot onto the pipe and climbed up. This was the easy part since the act of changing climbing methods became really scary a few feet off the ground. One brave swing later, Pedro struggled to pull his weight and push his feet up against the wall. Much under Bill's dramatised efforts, he climbed up one step at a time.

Nini found the balcony door unlocked and stopped to listen. "Come on!" She said too loudly and then adjusted her tone. "I think Jim is at my door, he'll check for your room next!"

His arms hurt, he was too heavy to hoist his weight but he bit through and pulled, gritting and crunching his teeth and breaking out in sweat.

Under Nini's urgent motivational chants that he was almost there, the balcony was finally within his grasp and all it would take was one swing for him to step onto the edge and reach for the metal bars.

He huffed and panted, and groaned while he pushed himself off the wall and missed the bars.

Several knocks interrupted Nini, who had stretched her hand out to help. "Hey! Are you in there? Open the door, now!" Jim's voice had been loud enough for Pedro to hear.

"Almost there!" Nini praised his efforts and made a little triumphant jump when Pedro finally managed to get a hold of the balcony. "Yes! Just a little bit more, come on-"

Pedro groaned when he could finally put his feet onto solid ground. The metal bannisters pushed into his chest and he felt his muscles shake.

"What was that? Do you think they're... what? No." Jim's muffled voice behind the door took a beat before it rose in volume. "Fine. I'm gonna count to three and you better come out or else-"

His arms were weak when he swung his legs across. He whimpered pathetically but at least he was still alive. Nini nearly pulled his shirt off when she tried to hoist him over the rest of the way. Fuck, everything hurt.

"Are you okay? Your knees..." Pedro heaved out with worry at the sight of her red bruises that screamed pain but she dismissed him. Violent bangs shook the door as they went inside. Pedro went to reach for the handle but Nini held him back. "One!" Jim started from outside.

"Clothes off!" Nini said, already ripping at the button and zip of his trousers and yanking them down.

"What?"

"Naked! Right now! Quick!" Pedro didn't know what her plan was but he decided to blindly trust her and got rid of his soaked shirt, arms still numb from effort.

"Two!" Jim raised his voice towards the end.

Nini ripped the sheets off his bed, pushed him towards the door and hid out of sight before he could somehow improvise the sheets around his waist and rip the door open.

"Thr-" Jim interrupted himself. Pedro was panting at the door, bracing himself onto the frame with one hand while he held the sheets with the other. Everything was pain. His lungs burned as if he'd run for miles. The sweat ran down his torso and back. His body screamed from being overheated and he suppressed a groan of agony.

Oh, now he understood. Smart girl. He barely opened wide enough so Jim couldn't see what would have been going on in his bed.

"Jim." He gulped out, using his heavy breaths to put on his best 'caught in the act' posture. He knew the sweat was glistening on his skin, rolling down his temples. By the looks of it, Jim had interrupted an excessively passionate scene. "What-" Pedro faked suppressing a frustrated groan. After all, it looked like they had been viciously fucking and he had been so close before they were interrupted. He ran his hand through his damp curls and sniffed, just staring at Jim in a mixture of annoyance and quiet patience.

Jim glanced between him and the door. It was an awkwardness he welcomed for a change. "I'm sorry, we're kind of in the middle of something." Pedro started like Jim had appeared in the most inconvenient moment.

"Oh, I was just... checking if you were really here." "Why wouldn't we?" Pedro asked in a confused tone. "Well, you do realise we were waiting, again?" "What?" "Briefing was an hour ago." "Shit, sorry. We thought we had at least another hour." "Well, alright. I was... Leonie's fine too?" Jim asked, eyes briefly glancing over his shoulder but Pedro closed the door a little further. He looked back and took in her appearance, scraped knees, dusty clothes. No way she passed. "Um- she's um... a bit... tied up at the moment." Pedro implied their activities to subtly make Jim as uncomfortable as possible. There were definitely better ways in using ropes, at least better than to boulder a fucking wall.

The man's eyes widened just when Pedro's smile thinned out apologetically. "Oh, Jesus." Jim was visibly impressed and nearly chuckled. "You dog."

Nini whined from somewhere inside the room. "Baby? Why did you stop? Come back to bed." She sounded desperate and very convincingly, frustratingly horny.

"It's Jim," Pedro explained to her and heard a surprised yelp. "What?" She yelled nervously. "Don't come in!"

"Alright, take it easy." Jim raised his hands in defence. "I just wanted to check, that's all-" he began while Chiwetel appeared behind him with wide eyes and whatever expression remained hidden behind his hand. The man left as quickly as he'd come. They owed him big time.

Pedro adjusted the bedsheets and made it look like he was politely refusing to get extremely annoyed about his supposedly waned erection. "Okay, give us five minutes to clean up, we'll be right with you in five."

"I'm sure you can do better than that," Jim replied convinced. "I'm happy you guys are... 'talking' again, seems like a vacation was duly needed." He could hear the grin in their director's voice when he had already turned and walked away. "God knows I'd need one myself." The man mumbled to himself as he left down the corridor.

As soon as Pedro closed the door, he walked straight past Nini to collapse onto the bed. He groaned into the pillow, adrenaline still pumping through his veins as he started sobbing.

He only looked up when he noticed the bed shaking. Nini was gasping for breath, laughing tears while he just processed and simply watched her. Pedro remained stunned out of his mind until the entire situation eventually started to catch up with him. Slowly, he joined in and it took minutes for them to stop laughing. They only quit to exchange a high five and a huge sigh of relief.

Part 21

Translation notes:

papel picado - (traditional Mexican decoration made of designs cut into tissue paper)

(sp): "Jennifer, no le escucharé más." "Por favor! Eso es lo que hace la gente rica!" - (eng): "Jennifer, I won't hear of it anymore." "Please! This is what's rich people do!"

(sp): Qué dicen? - (eng): What do you say?

(sp): Vámonos - (eng): let's go

(sp): mi amorita - (eng): my little love

(sp): Hay muchas tan hermosas mujeres aqui - (eng): There are so many beautiful women here

(sp): No importa lo que se diga, somos oficialmente una pareja. - (eng): Doesn't matter what they say, we're officially a couple.

(sp): Ay, sí, yo comprendo. Pedro aprecias un poco de privacidad y... un buen trasero? - (eng): Oh, yes, I get it. Pedro likes a little privacy and... a nice ass.

(sp): Oye, ten cuidado, viejo - (eng): Hey, be careful, man

(dut): Lul - (eng): dick

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal rpf #pedro nation #pedro pascal/oc #pedro pascal fanfiction series #pedro pascal ff #pedro pascal ao3 #pedro pascal actor fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic

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autumnalwalker · 1 year

Text

Empty Names Side Story - There Are No Dogs At The Dog Park

Author's Note: Ringing in the new year with a side story set a couple years before the main plot, shortly after Eris and Lacuna met. Inspired by this sx-year-old post by @helloitsbees. Masterpost here. Word Count: 4,256 Content Warnings: Brief appearance of blood. Stream of consciousness narration of someone turning into a werewolf, panicking, slowly loosing sense of self, and chasing someone.

“Yo, Lacuna, sorry about this but I’m gonna have to bail on seeing that movie tonight. I just remembered tonight’s a full moon and I’m volunteering at the Dog Park. Err, right, rebranding - I’m volunteering with NALSA.

“Actually, if you’re interested I could probably get you on the volunteer roster for tonight. Could be something you’d be interested in so long as you don’t mind staying awake until sunrise. I’ll send you the link to their site.

“Call me back when you get this. Laters.”

*******

The sound of the wind is her first clue that she was somewhere else now. The drop in temperature is her second.

The sound of a woman’s deep voice addressing her is her third.

“Yo. You must be Sarah.”

She opens her eyes to find a muscular man towering over where she’s sitting on the bus stop bench, silhouetted by the sun. She blinks in surprise. No, wait, that voice, and something about the jawline. A woman, just the tallest she’s met.

“How’d you know?” Sarah asks.

“Gita told me we were getting a new first timer today and I know all the regulars,” the woman says. She notices the look on Sarah’s face and takes a step back, better illuminated now. “Ah, shit, I’m looming again, aren’t I? Sorry ‘bout that.”

With the woman no longer blocking her view, Sarah can see just how obviously she’s no longer at the same bus stop she sat down at. Behind the woman - “Eris” and “Volunteer” the nametag sticker on her shirt reads - is a long, low concrete building with grass growing on the roof and adorned with an emblem above its door depicting the stylized red outline of a howling wolf overlaid on top of a blue moon with the letters NALSA in white. The same emblem is replicated on the volunteer’s t-shirt with “North American Lycanthrope Sanctuary Association” in smaller print around it. In any other direction is nothing but empty scrub-covered prairie as far as the eye can see, broken only by the faint outline of dirt road the bus stop is situated on and the tall, inward-curving chain link fence extending out from either side of the building.

“Welcome to the Sanctuary,” Eris says as Sarah stands up and brushes off her jeans. Was that dust from Tennessee or… wherever this is? The other woman puts out a hand and says “I’m -”

“Eris,” Sarah says as she shakes the proffered hand and nods at the nametag.

Eris glances down and then back up, flashing a grin that Sarah can’t help but think of as feral. The moment passes and Eris chuckles, all friendly volunteer guide again. “So I am,” she says and lets go of Sarah’s hand. “Anyway, Gita’s in the middle of setting up for tonight, so I’ll give you the tour.”

Sarah hesitates for a moment, watching Eris walk toward the building’s entrance. She’s not exactly tall herself but not even being eye level with another woman’s shoulder still feels strange to her. And those muscles; she’s known guys that would kill for that. Is she going to end up looking like that? She’s not sure if that thought scares or thrills her.

Following along, she finds herself wishing she’d looked up more about this ahead of time. But there was just so much contradictory information out there. And if she was being honest with herself, she was afraid to. Maybe that guy who recommended she come out here was wrong and nothing would happen tonight. Maybe she didn’t actually even need to make this bizarre trip to…

“Where are we anyway?” she asks as she catches up with Eris.

“Dakota.”

“Which one?”

“At the moment, I’m in North and you’re in South. The bridge you came in through’s right on the border. Same for the visitor center. The liminality here made it easier to set up shop, mostly for the bridge, but a few other things too. And for extra oomph Montanna’s like half a mile that way. The Park extends into all three. Sorry, the Sanctuary,” Eris corrects herself as the door slides open. “We rebranded back at the start of the year. ‘There are no dogs here, only people,’” she says, holding up a finger and adjusting her voice for a startlingly accurate impression of the elderly woman Sarah had spoken to on the phone the other day, “‘so there’s no reason to call it the Dog Park.’” She shrugs and returns to her normal voice. “That’s what Gita says anyway.”

In contrast to the blocky, utilitarian appearance on the outside, the interior of the visitor center greets Sarah with carpeted flooring, nature scenes hung on the walls, and meditative music softly playing from unseen speakers in the ceiling. Examining the paintings and photographs they pass by as she follows Eris, she notices markedly fewer wolves in the decor than she’d expected. Just landscapes and close-ups of plants.

The tour Eris leads her on is as straightforward as the building’s layout; several spokes of hallway wings extending out from a central entrance, each clearly labeled in multilingual signs. Overnight Accommodations, where Eris sets her up with a small bedroom with a shower, a lock keyed to her voice for the next forty-eight hours, and what looks like a paper hospital gown hanging in the closet that Eris tells her is “to change into later so you don’t ruin your clothes.” Maintenance and Administration, skipped by for now but promised to return to later. Cafeteria and Recreation, containing a small library, gym, and lounge “to help unwind and recover after transforming back.”

As the two of them eat a complimentary lunch, Eris finishes explaining the benefits of a large, early dinner to lessen the likelihood of “chewing on something during the night that you’ll regret in the morning” and asks Sarah if she has any questions before they move the tour on to the Medical wing.

“Where is everyone?” Sarah asks, taking the opportunity to bring up something that’s been increasingly striking her as being off since the tour started. “This whole time I haven’t seen anyone but you and Pete over there working the kitchen.”

“Well, it is barely noon,” Eris replies, “most of the regulars won’t be here for another few hours and the rest of the volunteers and staff are busy with last minute safety checks. To be honest, I was surprised you showed up as early as you did.”

“Well, I know that sometimes you can see the moon during the daytime and I didn’t know if that would…” Sarah trails off in a mixture of nerves and embarrassment, “do things to me?”

Eris nods, understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But nah, from what I’m told as long as the sun’s up the most the moon’s gonna do to ya is make you a bit restless. Maybe amp up your hearing and smell a little bit while making colors weird if you’re real sensitive to it.”

“From what you hear?” Sarah starts at the realization. “You mean you’re not… not a…”

“Werewolf?” Eris finishes her question with a grin. “You’re allowed to say it, you know. But nah, I just show up once a month to provide a pair of opposable thumbs while you all have fun running around under the moon. My job’s mostly to drive you all out to the middle of the Sanctuary just before sundown, help steer anyone that wanders off away from the fences, and pick you all up in the morning with a change of clothes.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. I just -” Sarah cuts herself off, realizing there’s no good way to end that sentence.

To her relief, Eris just laughs. “It’s fine. You’re not the first to make that mistake and I doubt you’ll be the last. And honestly, it’s far from the worst thing I’ve been called.” A shorter laugh, this one more forced to Sarah’s ears. “Sure as Hell beats getting accused of steroid abuse. But if you’re worried about your condition ruining your figure, don’t sweat it.”

“Okay.”

“No, seriously, don’t worry about it. Gita and Rani - her wife, you’ll meet her when we go to the Medical wing - can tell you more about it, but the gist is that they’ve spent decades studying this stuff and as best as they can tell any physical changes outside of the lunar transformation are purely an autogenesis thing.”

“Autogenesis?”

“You know, the whole thing with exposure to and knowledge of things Backstage causing subconscious internalized self-image to manifest externally?”

“What?”

“Oh wow, you are new to all this, aren’t you?”

Sarah nods. “So you mean there’s more out there than just werewolves and magic bus stops.”

Eris lets out a long breath. “Hoo boy… I’ve never been good at intro spiels, but yes and you have no idea how much. But back to what we were talking about, the short version is your lycanthropy isn’t going to affect you outside of the full moon unless you expect and believe it will.”

Sarah is still trying to process that when a vibrating buzz comes from Eris’s pocket. The larger woman looks just as relieved as she feels for the interruption, especially after checking the text message.

“Looks like Gita’s back in her office,” Eris says. “If you don’t mind, we can go ahead and cut the tour short here and I’ll take you to her. She’ll be able to fill you in on what to expect tonight better than I can.”

Sarah assents and follows her to the Maintenance and Administration wing. Eris’s phone buzzes a second time along the way - longer this time, indicating a call rather than a text - but after a quick glance she silences it without comment.

Before long, the two of them stop in front of a door with a frosted window bearing the label “Dr. Gita Patel - Sanctuary Director.” Eris knocks on the door and a voice bids them to come in.

On the other side of the door Sarah finds a small, tastefully decorated office with small pieces of religious iconography on the walls and shelves that she thinks might be Hindu but lacks the knowledge to identify more specifically. Altogether the effect is cozy rather than cramped. An impression further reinforced by the warm greeting from the short elderly woman in the center of it all.

“You must be Sarah,” she says as she shuffles around from behind the desk to shake the newcomer’s hand. “So glad you were able to make it.”

“Thank you ma’am. It’s a lovely place you have here.”

“Please, call me Gita. No need to be formal just because I have a sign on my door. Come, come, take a seat. Eris already gave you the tour, I take it? Well, I’m sure you still have questions about your first moon. Everyone always does, but never you worry. You’re safe here.”

Sarah struggles to suppress a smile at the accuracy of Eris’s earlier impression. Nervous as she still is, the combination of Eris’s nonchalance about Sarah’s condition, Gita’s enthusiasm, and the entire existence of the Sanctuary gives her some hope that tonight won’t be as bad as she feared.

*******

“Hey, uh, so, I guess you’re already at the Sanctuary. Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass tonight. Not sure I’d actually be able to help much and it feels… I don’t know, voyeuristic? Objectifying? Something like that to just show up and gawk.

“Also, long day at work so I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay awake all night anyway.

“Might be cool to talk to Dr. Patel though sometime though without a deadline of the sun going down. I’ve only skimmed it so far, but her paper on the mechanics of the transformation was, well, it’s got some stuff that’s interesting. To me. Is that awkward to ask for an introduction like that? Sorry. I’m rambling now, aren’t I?

“Hanging up now. But let me know if you want me to come pick you up and help you get home in the morning. Or is that awkward to offer too? Blah, I’m bad at this. Hanging up for real this time.”

*******

Howling. All around her. Inside her. From her. From her?

Lights growing so bright. Nearly hurts. Colors warping draining distorting. No more red. No more green. Wash of blues and yellows and grays.

So loud. Noises deafening. Too much all at once. Smells too. So many. So sharp. Sickening.

“She’s panicking!”

“First time’s always a trip. She’ll get through it.”

Skin crawling. Stretching. Bones cracking, extending, filling in. Doesn’t hurt but feels wrong. Alien. Itchy. Where’s the mass coming from? Can’t think about that. Itches too much. Outside and in. Try to scratch. Skin feels too soft. Scratch feels too sharp.

Look down. Flinch back up. Down again. Arms covered in fur. Hands end in claws. Muscle growing as she watches. She whimpers.

“Sarah. Sarah, look at me.”

Look up again. Piercing eyes. Solid face. Holding her in place without touching. An anchor.

“You’re going to be alright. Just breathe. Take it slow.”

Nod. Try to speak. To say “okay.” Hear a bark instead.

Clap hands to mouth. Hit her face too soon. Mouth and nose are too far out. Don’t think of the word for it. Don’t make it real.

Try to stand up. Stumble. Center of mass is all wrong. Joints don’t bend right. Body so heavy. Struggle back up. Look around. Surrounded by wolves and things that are almost wolves but wrong. Where is she? How did she get here?

“Sarah…”

People here too. Staring at her. Why are they looking at her? Please stop looking at her. Go away. Get away. Need to get away.

“She’s running!”

“It’s fine! She just needs time to work through it. Follow but give her space!”

Keep moving. Two legs? Four? Which works better? Find a rhythm. Pick up speed. Just need to get away. Can’t get away from herself. Something wrong inside her. Need to get it out. Get it out!

Fence ahead. Trapped. In a cage. Need to get it out. Need to get out. Need to escape.

“She’s going for the fence!”

“Should I tranq her?”

“Jeez, calm down guys. Don’t worry, I got this.”

Hand on the chainlinks, furry and clawed. Is that really her hand? Who else’s could it be? Feels wrong. What does right even look like? Stop looking. Just climb. Pull to climb. Pulling rips the metal away. Breaks the links. Snaps and pops hurt her ears. Too loud. Everything is too loud. So strong. Monstrously strong. She’s a monster. She’s a monster. She’s -

“Sarah…”

Is that her name? Is that her?

Turn around. Someone right behind her. Looks familiar. Looks too small.

“I know yer freaking out right now, but I’m going to need ya to get away from the fence. Can’t have you getting lost out there.”

Solid presence. An anchor. Remember to breathe. A hand extended. Reach out to take it.

“That’s right. Now let’s get you back to the others.”

Lips part underneath those anchoring eyes. Teeth shown. Barred. A smile threat! Danger! Swipe at the hand. Leap back. Growl deep. She can be dangerous too. Go away! Get away!

“Dammit…”

Teeth disappear. Come back more numerous. Lips stretched back and curved up. Eyes are eager now. Hungry. No longer an anchor.

“Screw it. The fun way it is then. You two go see what’s taking Gita so long.”

Hunker down. Ears back. Growl continues. What’s coming?

Blur of motion toward the torn fence. Hand waving in front of her face. Liquid dripping from a finger and smeared over the palm.

That smell! Enough to make her sick. Enough to make her slaver.

“That’s right. Go ahead and let go. Run wild and get it out of your system.”

Barred neck. Unprotected belly. Vulnerable. Tempting. The hand liquid smears across the face with those eyes.

“What are you waiting for?! Come get me!”

Howl. Lunge. Chase. Across the grass. Over the gullies. Pant. Run. Revel.

Close. Jump. Catch!

Catch?

Caught.

Redirected. Thrown to the ground. Land on back. Barely feel it. Stars are so beautiful tonight. Has she ever seen so many? And the moon! She could stare at it forever.

Movement nearby. That’s right. Hunting. Roll over back to her feet. Resume the chase.

Mouth noises from the other one. Words? Those meant something once, didn’t they? Laughter now. She still knows that.

Catch up again. Rear up. Bear down with jaws and claws.

Hands around her wrists. Or are they ankles now? What’s the difference? Drawing in. Nose inches from the prey’s. But prey doesn’t snarl back. Prey doesn’t laugh. Prey doesn’t have eyes shining with joy.

So what is this?

Spinning around until they’re forced apart. Regain balance. Repeat the chase. Panting harder now. Limbs heavier. Slowing down but so is the other one.

Bite! Catch something! Pull down to the ground!

At last!

Standing over her catch. What to do now? Ah, yes! There’s only one th-

Suddenly pulled down and to the side. Rolled. Positions reversed. Struggle and roll again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Claws flail. Jaws snap. Wrestling.

Stillness.

Pinned to the ground. Weight on her back. Strong arms around her. Holding her tightly but not painfully. Somehow calming. Protective.

Hand running through her fur. Stroking from head to back. Whispers soft even to her. What are words again? She’s so tired. Tired, but satisfied. This is nice.

One sound keeps coming back up. One that means something.

“Sarah…”

Oh. Right. That means her.

A soft padding on the grass. A contradictory smell of wet soil and dry leaves.

The weight eases off. The arms slide away. One last pat on the way out.

Look around. The other one is still here, sitting next to her. On the other side of her an old wolf, thin and white-snouted. The old one nuzzles her and she feels peace.

The old one turns to leave. She gets up on all four legs and pads along behind to follow. She can smell others nearby in the dark now. Waiting for her.

Spare one last glance back for the not-prey other one. That one waves.

She disappears into the night.

*******

“Eyugh?”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“‘S’fine… alarm was going off in… seven minutes anyway. I’ll be there in a bit. Will bring coffee.”

“You’re a saint.”

“Uh, thanks? How’d it go by the way?”

“Pretty chill. Nothing too exciting.”

“Huh. Well, I’m heading out. You can tell me more about it when we’re both more awake.”

“Sounds good. See ya.”

*******

Sarah peeks out of her room, still disoriented in spite of Gita telling her what to expect yesterday. It’s one thing to be told that you’re going to black out and wake up in an unfamiliar room, but it’s a whole other bea- a whole other thing to actually have it happen. At least there had been a shower at hand and all her clothes on a hanger.

She’d been afraid to look in the mirror at first but once she’d worked up the courage to do so she found she was still her. Maybe tired despite sleeping past noon and disheveled with a few light scrapes and bruises, but otherwise none the worse for the wear. Easy enough to believe the hazy memories of last night really had been a dream.

“Yo, you’re up,” comes a voice approaching from down the hall. Eris, carrying a cafeteria coffee cup in each hand. “I was just coming to check on you. Sleep well?”

“Like I just ran a marathon without stretching first.”

“Heh, that’s not too far off from the truth,” Eris says and then offers one of the coffee cups. “Caffeine?”

“Yes please.” She steps all the way into the hallway and takes the cup. As she brushes Eris’s fingers in the process, some memory, some impression of emotion flickers and disappears before she can grasp it. For some reason she feels a slight flush to her cheeks, but she writes it off as still being tired from last night.

Last night…

She pulls the cup to her lips and the smell and taste derail whatever that train of thought was turning into. She’d briefly worried that there’d be some lingering amplification of her sense of smell that would make it intolerable, but it’s no more than what she would expect from cheap instant coffee. The taste is just on the tolerable side of bad and there’s a mild sourness to whatever powdered creamer got added in, but frankly that’s doing as much to wake her up as the caffeine so she counts it as a blessing.

“Unfortunately the guy in charge of stocking the kitchen has a major tea bias,” Eris says in response to Sarah’s flinch upon her first sip, “so that’s where most of the caffeine budget around here goes.” She settles against the wall opposite of Sarah and nurses her own beverage for a moment before adding, “That, and there was that one time a guy got the bright idea to do like ten shots of expresso right before sundown. Rani was this close to switching the whole stock to decaf after that fiasco, but I’m pretty sure half the permanent staff would have walked out if that happened.”

Sarah suppresses a laugh while she tries to swallow. “Stop, you’re going to make this go up my nose.”

Eris chuckles. “It’ll probably taste better that way.” She takes another gulp of her own drink and puts on an exaggerated grimace. A moment’s pause and her face goes more serious. “But really, how are you doing? Things got a bit rough last night and I wanted to apologize for that.”

“I’m fine. It all just feels like a dream really. I figure I’m as tired and sore as I ought to be from running around all night. What is there for you to…”

Locked eyes in the moonlight. Strong arms around her. Throwing her. Grabbing her. Calming her. Comforting her.

“Apologize…”

A broken fence. The scent of blood. Chasing down prey. Pulling it to the ground.

“For?”

Eris cocks her head at the way Sarah trails off into a long pause before suddenly gasping and clapping a hand to her mouth.

“Oh my God! Did I bite you?”

“What? No. I mean, you got my pant leg pretty good, but that’s why I bring that old pair on these nights.”

“Are you sure? I think I was trying to. I’m so sorry. I was - I tried - I -”

“Hey, it’s cool. I’m pretty good at not getting bit and I’ve got some protections of my own in place in case that happens.” Eris shrugs. “Besides, it’d hardly be the end of the world if I did wind up as a regular here instead of a volunteer. If anything, it’s my fault for intentionally provoking you.”

“But your hand.”

“Cut it on purpose on the fence. But look.” She transfers her coffee cup to her other hand and holds up a fingertip with a barely-visible scab. “I heal quick. Long story. Honestly the worst thing I got out of last night was a dressing down from Gita and Rani this morning about recklessness, tetanus, and putting you under undue stress. Apparently trying to give you an excuse to let go so that you weren’t stuck in that halfway conflict state isn’t considered best practice. Or at least, not my way of doing it.”

“What do you mean ‘not best practice’?”

“Like I said, putting you under more stress than I should have. That’s the big reason I wanted to check on you. I figured I’d throw you in the deep end with the thing most likely to make you lose control so you’d know you can get through anything.” Eris hangs her head, breaking eye contact. “In retrospect, that was a dick move. I’m sorry.”

“I’m… well, I’m not sure if I am fine. I’m still processing it all. But apology accepted anyway. I figure you at least meant well. And,” she pauses, embarrassed, “I think I did enjoy some of the parts that I remember.”

Eris chuckles softly and flashes that grin again; wilder for a fraction of a second than anything Sarah was last night and then taming itself into amiability. “Glad to hear it. Just be careful about which parts you enjoy. You don’t -” The buzz of a text message vibrating her phone cuts her off. “Well, that’s my ride, so I should get going. Feel free to hang around and recover as long as you need. It was nice meeting you.”

“Thanks. It was nice meeting you too.” More than nice? No, don’t go there. “Will I see you next month?”

“If you want, and the good doctors aren’t still mad at me.” Eris turns to walk off, and pauses. “Oh yeah, speaking of them, Gita’s going to want to talk to you to see how you’re doing too. Don’t be afraid to let her know if she starts going full psych eval on you, she gets carried away like that sometimes worrying after the newbies.” Her phone buzzes again, longer. “Well, laters,” she says and walks off toward the visitor center’s exit with a wave.

Sarah sips her terrible coffee and waves while watching her go.

Next month then.

*******

“Hey, Eris. I hate to be that guy, but I think I’m lost. What were the directions to get there again?”

#writing #original fiction #urban fantasy #Writeblr #WIP #Empty Names #writing practice #writers on tumblr #creative writing #fantasy #fiction #my writing #emptynameswriting #Yes the title is a Night Vale reference but the similarities don't go much further than that #Also the NALSA emblem is a wolf-ified version of the NASA “Meatball” logo because MOON #and also Gita and Rani are low-key space nerds #Unfortunately there is no safe and ethical way to test the effects of sending a werewolf to the moon

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