Another WIP Wednesday! I’m sick, tired, and very much suffering 😷 Haven’t opened a Word doc in a week, but I still wanted to share something with you guys 🥺💖
Here’s a little KimJun bit from my S3 rewrite (following this one). The mercenaries keep developing personalities and inside jokes and I just know canon is going to hurt even more 😭💔
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Chul-soo was in the middle of one of his stories, voice too loud for the size of the room. “I’m telling you, he really did it. Whole squad lined up, inspection about to start, and Jae-sung here trips over the damn laundry line. Socks everywhere. The lieutenant was red in the face, screaming his head off, and what does he do?” He slapped the table, grinning wide. “He salutes. Salutes with one sock in his hand like it’s a medal.”
Kang burst out laughing, almost choking on his rice. “I still remember the lieutenant’s face. Like he’d aged ten years on the spot.”
Jae-sung groaned, shaking his head but unable to stop the grin tugging at his mouth. “Better than the time you almost shot your own foot showing off to the recruits.”
That sent Chul-soo into another fit, his laugh loud enough to rattle the dishes. Kang egged him on, and the noise filled the small room until it felt like the walls were laughing with them.
Kim rolled his eyes and reached for his glass, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curving faintly before he could stop it. Jae-sung caught it immediately and pointed, triumphant, like he had just won something.
Kim almost told him to shut up before he could make it worse, but the words never left his mouth. The door opened, letting in a burst of cold air that cut through the warmth of the restaurant. The wind carried the smell of the sea and something else underneath it, something sharp and clean.
Boots sounded against the floorboards, steady and deliberate.
Jun-ho.
Kim’s eyes found him without permission. The detective stepped into the light, jacket half-zipped, hair damp from the salt air, his gaze cutting through the room like he was cataloguing every detail before he even took a step closer. When he spotted their table, something in Kim’s chest went tight, the noise around him slipping into a dull, distant hum.
Oh, shit. He’s coming this way.
He told himself to look away, to focus on the food, on the sound of Chul-soo still talking beside him, but his eyes didn’t listen. Jun-ho moved with the same quiet precision Kim had noticed since the first day, unhurried and sure, and Kim hated the way his focus narrowed down to that one small thing.
His fingers twitched around his chopsticks. He set them down beside his bowl, too quickly, like getting rid of them could also get rid of whatever this was crawling up under his skin. His hand hovered uselessly for a second before retreating to his lap.
Stay professional. Focus on the job. Stop staring.
The table fell quiet when Jun-ho reached them. Chul-soo’s laughter trailed off mid-breath, Kang straightened like he was back on duty, Jae-sung froze with his hand halfway to the bottle.
Jun-ho stopped at the end of the bench, calm and composed, but his presence filled the space in a way that made the air feel thinner.
Kim looked up again, just once, and felt that same sharp pull in his chest, something he didn’t have a name for yet.
And that was all it took.
The sound of the room came back to him slowly – the scrape of a chair, the faint clink of a bottle being set down, the murmur of the others trying to gauge whether they should speak. It was strange, the way a single person could change the rhythm of a room without saying a word.
Kim caught himself holding his breath and exhaled through his nose, forcing his shoulders to loosen. He picked up his chopsticks again, just to have something to do with his hands. The table waited, the kind of waiting that came before orders, or bad news, or something you couldn’t quite see yet.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
Kim Do-hyeon gives off "emotionally unavailable soldier" energy but then he goes and gets all soft because he’s got a crush 😭 he’s so pathetic and I adore him!
They came--not for him, but for some need to make Hawkins feel the weight of their presence at the annual charity ball.
Guess you can't hold the title of rich asshole unless your neighbors can watch you prove it.
All it means for him is quiet, stern talks followed by long disappointed looks. Nit-picking comments that attack everything from his life choices to his clothes.
One particularly bad moment has his father, whiskey glass in hand, making a face as he examined Steve's nose.
"I'm not paying to fix it until you learn to stay out of fights." He tells him, voice a mix of disgusted and haughty that Steve himself used to mimic.
"There's nothing wrong with my nose!" He'd snapped but still spent an hour in the bathroom anyway, worrying about it.
Which is what his father had wanted, the cold bastard.
It was the straw that had sent Steve banging out of his front door, uncaring about his parents yelling about appearances behind him.
It was enough that he'd suffered under veiled insults and poor attempts at caring. That they hadn't once asked about anything that had happened to him, hadn't cared to continue the conversation the one time Steve had tried to bring even a portion of it up.
To go after his appearance, the last thing he could fucking cling too?
Fuck them. They could have the cold house they refused to call a home to themselves.
He doesn't have a destination in mind when he gets in the Beamer. Just cranks the music and rockets out of the driveway.
Drives a little too fast.
Takes the next corner hard and almost nails a car laying haphazardly across the road.
Steve stands on the brakes, jerking the wheel sideways. Feels his tires slide in gravel as he narrowly misses a full blown collision with what is rapidly looking to be Billy Hargrove's Camaro.
Adrenaline thunders in body and for a moment Steve feels like he's outside of time, until the Beamer finally slams to a stop.
"Fucking--help!" A voice he knows screams, and Steve's out of his car in a second, ready to square up.
He expects to see Hargrove.
Assumes the idiot is the one causing problems and gears himself up to face the asshole down a second time.
Hopes whatever poor saps got in his way this time isn't a kid.
What Steve doesn't expect to see, is the younger man bolting towards him, blood splattered down his face and face screwed up in wild panic.
Something takes his legs out from under him before he gets even halfway to Steve, smashing him face first into the gravel.
It’s brutal, and Steve flinches back as Hargrove cries out, the sound almost animalistic. It‘s hard to hear over the crunch of gravel, the way his hands had flown down to try and catch himself and were torn along the rough rocks.
Somehow he manages to scramble into movement despite the pain he has to be in, determined in a way Steve recognizes instinctively as a mixture of adrenaline and pure terror.
He has time to process hauntingly familiar red-black vines, like the tentacles of some great creature that’s writhing around Hargrove’s legs as he digs into the ground with his fingers, fighting to escape.
Grunts harshly as the vines go taught and pull.
He's being dragged into the maw of an open warehouse, the open door marred with thick, dark slime, and for a split second wide, tear streaked blue eyes meet Steve's own.
"Harrington!" Hargrove screams, the sound raw, "Help me!"
It's enough to cut through the shock keeping Steve in place.
He springs forward as Billy's hand releases the gravel to reach for him instead.
Not that Steve's going to take it.
Knows better than to get into a tug of war with the Upside Down.
Instead he darts past, starts kicking the shit out of the tendrils as he looks about desperately for a weapon.
His nailbat is in the back of the Beamer, but he needs to free Hargrove before he can get it.
Has the worst feeling that if Hargrove is dragged to the bottom of the dark stairs, the blonde won't be making it back home.
Tendrils strike at his ankles, snakelike, and Steve dances away with a curse.
Billy is howling up a storm, swear words mixing with pleas in between frantic, choked noises that will haunt him for the rest of his life.
He needs a fucking weapon. Is furious at himself for not carrying around a knife, or a flashlight or literally anything.
It's the frantic mental scrambling that does him in, a vine snapping out and embedding itself in his ankle.
It jerks Steve off his feet, and he only evades capture due to his own flailing limbs severing the thin connection as he falls down.
Belts out a string of curse words as pain rockets up his leg, the singular thin vine trying to bury itself back into his leg, stabbing at the jean material of his pants.
He jerks away, kicking frantically at it. Has tje odd thought that at least he had managed to avoid smacking his head this time.
Hargrove is forcefully yanked past him as Steve struggles to stand back up. The slide of his body makes a horrid scraping noise that makes Steve clench his teeth.
The younger man's hands catch on the doorway, blood and tears mixing down his face.
He stares dead into Steve's eyes, and for the first time, the older boy feels like he's seeing Billy instead of Hargrove.
A guy who's barely 18, blood clumping in his hair and face painfully young.
Way too young to die like this.
"Steve, please." Billy whispers it like he's using his last breath to say it, the plea mounting Steve's fury into something monstrous.
Hell will freeze over before the fucking Upside Down takes another person he knows away from him.
"Fuck this!" Steve snarls, then lunges to bite the largest vine.
It's not made of wood.
The taste is vile, but he can hear whatever's down at the bottom of the stairs shriek as his teeth rip a huge chunk out of it.
He manages to find a decent sized rock in the gravel, and Steve wastes no time using it. Smashes it again and again into the vine, still ripping with his teeth.
It tastes a lot like rancid, raw meat, something Steve is doing his best not to think about.
Finally the fucking thing tears apart, and Steve spits everything in his mouth out angrily.
This gets at least one of Hargrove's legs free.
Later Steve will give credit where credit is due because Billy wastes no time picking the fight back up.
Watches as he jams a hand down his pockets and yanking out a Swiss army knife. It's not the switchblade Steve's been wishing for, but Billy uses it like it is.
Flexes his upper body in a show of power, proving his muscles aren't just for looks.
Holds himself up by his core alone as he stabs down at the remaining vine that's trapped him.
Together they're close to freeing Billy when two slimmer, darker vines shoot up from the gloom. One pierces Hargrove in the shoulder, close to his chest.
The other goes through Steve's hand to nail Billy's leg.
They scream in unison, Steve attacking instinctively with his teeth while the shorter boy under him bucks and withers, hand and tiny knife trying to dislodge the tendril in his shoulder.
Steve succeeds first, biting clear through his vine and yanking it out of himself and Billy.
He rises to a crouch, uses his good hand to help wrestle with the second tendril as it wiggles its way deeper into Billy.
Rips it out with Billy's help, and prays none of it stays in him as Steve wings it down the stairs.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!' Billy pants, bloodied hands grasping at the ground, his head tipping backwards.
They're not safe. Not until they get away, or kill whatever larger horror the damn vines are attached to.
"Come on." Steve pants, moving behind Billy and getting his own arms under his, trying to pull them both up and back.
Away from the damn warehouse door.
Billy tries to help, legs kicking and scrambling as they half crawl half fall their way in between the Beamer and the Camaro.
It seems his legs are fucked (likely more fucked than Steve's ankle, if the vines been stabbing at him) and pain makes them both curse until they hit the door of Steve's car.
They crouch together for a moment, breathing hard and bleeding on one another.
Hargrove has a death grip on Steve's arms, holding him like a lifeline, back resting against his chest.
Steve's partially kneeling behind him, his good hand fisted on Billys shirt. Both stare at the warehouse door, fighting pain and praying for a few seconds just to let the waves of it pass.
Nothing happens for one breath.
Two.
On the fifth draw of air, Steve starts trying to stand, tugging on Billy to go up with him.
On the seventh something makes an inhuman roar, shaking the ground beneath them.
Hands fly out, reaching for the Beamers back door. Everything's slick under his blood but Steve manages to get it open anyways, hustling Billy inside before slamming it shut.
Crashes sound, growing louder as Steve dives for the driver's door.
Thanks every deity he can think of when he finds he never shut the Beamer off.
Her wheels squeal angrily as he slams her into reverse but he'll apologize for the abuse later, too focused on getting them the hell out of there.
"No hospital." Hargrove half pants, half moans, strewn across the backseat. Steve risks a glance at him in the rear view, and tries to make out how bad the other boy's injuries are. "Harrin-urk--gton, no hospital-!"
"I heard." Steve says.
Billy's hands are pressed into his shoulder, his shirt so stained with dirt, grime and blood it takes Steve a moment to realize it's been ripped open, bearing a toned, golden chest.
He doesn't want to go to the hospital either.
"You gonna die on me?"
Hargrove snorts.
"Had worse." He grunts out, then smiles around a bloody mouth. "Not even unconscious."
Somehow Steve believes him.
In the other direction, sitting on a nearby park bench, Eddie Munson is finishing up the last drug deal of the night.
He's too far away to hear any of the noise. Has a beaten and busted stereo playing a Judas Priest cassette, the noise a little fuzzy but good enough.
Definitely loud--which was why he never heard the vines coming.
hi, a friend of mine is making an edit where rose remains ten’s companion for s3 and she’s taking any ideas for inspiration!!! how do you guys think things would have gone if the doomsday events never happened and rose had stayed with ten?
if you got some headcanons you’d like to share, that would be extremely appreciated. 🤍🤍🤍
A/N: I’m sorry I literally failed at posting everyday so quickly. It’s been a few days but I wanted to try and give more insight into Y/n and Ben’s history. I hope you like it please let me know what you thought (I’m sorry if some bits feel rushed I tried to avoid that but honestly I don’t know if I succeeded) Please enjoy.
The next time I looked out of the dust coated window I saw the street lights and dark night sky. Most of Butcher’s crew must’ve started making tracks to either go home or just outright go somewhere else because when I entered their main room only Butcher and Hughie where there, Hughie’s arm was finally in a proper cast too.
“You’re on V!” I hear Hughie snap as Butcher wraps up the kitchen roll he’s holding.
“Temporary V. Barely lasts twenty four hours.” Butcher responds with the usual gruffness in his tone his eyes flicking over to me acknowledging my presence.
“Where’d you even get it?” Hughie asks not noticing I’ve entered the room.
“One of those websites, boners for days.” I fight the urge to laugh at his response.
Hughie makes it a hell of a lot easier to resist when he gets worked up
“No, no, no, no, no. None of your smirky shit!”
“I only had one dose. All right? Gunpowder’s dead. We know what we need to know, end of.”
My breath was stolen. I take a moment to recover and harshly swipe a quick tear away. I’m not surprised Butcher killed him but, I didn’t know he was dead. I naively believed Butcher only beat information out of him. He idolised Ben. He was trained by Ben and me. But he apparently was far too reckless and immature when it mattered if Mallory’s right.
“Wait, wait, you-you-you…you killed…Gunpowder?” Hughie stammered even though his voice seemed calmer than it had been previously. “With powers? You had superpowers?”
“Oh, look, let’s just give it a rest, all right? It’s over. I’m fine.” Butcher says brushing past him.
“Wait, wait do the others know?” Hughie asks turning around noticing me his eyes widening like a deer in the headlights.
“I know. Not because of this but yeah I think it’s just us three.” I say giving him an awkward smile.
“And if they find out, I’ll put you both in a fucking coma.” Butcher states menacingly.
“Good luck with that.” I respond smirking up at him, folding my arms.
Butcher glares at me harder once again watching as I don’t back down before letting it go. He’s not stupid he’s been made fully aware that I’m the one that gets him his temp V. Next thing I know he’s out the room and I’m left with a dumbfounded Hughie.
“Yeah, n-no you’re right. You seem totally fine.” Hughie says practically to himself.
“You alright over there?” I ask walking over to him.
“Yeah. I mean…I just wasn’t expecting that. Butcher of all people willingly using temp V.”
“I’m pretty sure he only sees it as a means to an end. He wants to even the playing field a bit. Ya’ know having a fighting chance and all?”
“How did you only get the job of a PA, you’re wasted in that position.” Hughie says with a laugh of disbelief and I smile back up at him before making my way home.
“How I actually got a job at Vought, would’ve been a better question if I’m completely honest. Actually how did I get that job? Yes at the time Vought announced the death of the beloved female icon Amphitrite, but the merch kept selling, posters still existed I know I wore a mask but like Soldier Boy’s it only went across my eyes, I mean it was what forty years ago, surely some of Butcher’s crew should vaguely recall the hero, right let alone all of fucking Vought? I mean there’s still a memorial of Amphitrite in that fucking tower! Maybe everyone nowadays is truly that stupid or…maybe I’m over thinking this…yep definitely over thinking.” I rant pacing and frantically waving my arms around in the apartment I moved to after what happened. “Shit.” I huff glancing to my water pipe seeing that I’d once again burst it, “I really need to find somewhere else to rant.”
I place a bucket under the burst and call up my landlord.
“Hey Lionel, my water pipe burst again.”
“That was literally fixed three weeks ago tops.” Lionel argues.
“Well you need to hire a better plumber then don’t you?” I sass despite knowing the truth.
“Fine I’ll get someone to look at it tomorrow.” I hear him huff before he hangs up.
I take a shower and get ready for bed not forgetting to kiss my finger and press it to one of the only photo’s I have left of Ben and I together, on my bedside table. I take my sleeping pills and fall asleep.
“Make me a cup of coffee would ya.” I glance up seeing a fluffy mop of brown hair and forest green eyes looking at me as if I was a pathetic disgrace.
“Excuse me?” I answer my forehead frowning.
“Are you deaf as well as stupid?” He mocked his dazzling teeth bite a sneer at me.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I snap marching up to him prodding his chest with my finger.
“Look sweetheart I’m Soldier Boy leader of the newly formed team Payback, and you you’re someone that’s come in here during our training time, so unless you’re gonna start helping out the rest of the refreshment crew I’d say get out.”
“Oh you’re one of those pricks are you?” I say not hiding my smirk. “I bet you believe women should stay home, do housework dote on their husband and produce babies then when we’re no longer useful die.”
“Obviously, it’s a woman’s duty to-” I punch his stomach sending him back into the wall behind him.
His face morphs to shock before quickly shifting to rage as he storms back towards me.
“I’m sorry it seems like you’ve forgotten there’s female supes, which is quite shocking considering there’s two of them on your team and you’re allegedly dating one.”
“Who do you think you are?” He says back to me.
“Amphitrite, solo supe, because I don’t need a team to cower behind.” I sass once again before Stan Edgar enters the room.
“Payback. This is Amphitrite.” He announces observing the cracked wall, stunned faces and the death glare match Soldier Boy and I are having. “I believe you’ve met.”
“What is this bullshit?” Soldier Boy snaps approaching Edgar.
“Calm down Soldier Boy, remember who signs your cheques.” Stan says in his usual calm but stern voice. “Amphitrite will not be joining your team, she’s the new face of feminism. Think of her as the new Rosie the Riveter.”
“What’s your power then?” Crimson Countess says positioning herself next to Soldier Boy, “What makes you so great?”
“Well unlike you guys, I’ve actually been helping people. Not strutting around posing like an uppity peacock. My power, well…want to spar?” I ask confidently fully aware of her little explosive fireballs.
“Fine.” Edgar and Soldier boy stand with the rest of Payback as Crimson Countess gets in her paparazzi pose prepping her hands to make a triangle. “Bring it.”
I wait until she launches her fireball at me before flicking my hand instantly putting it out with a small wall of water as my eyes briefly flashing a stormy blue. Crimson Countess scowls at me firing multiple at me before I create another slightly larger wall of water.
“So you’re good at defensive manoeuvres, why don’t you go on the attack?”
“Because your defence abilities aren’t strong enough.” I answer shrugging my shoulder dismissively.
“Try me.”
I lower my right hand to my side slowly twisting my fingers and wrist in a circular motion. My eyes glowing once again as a constantly swirling whirlpool like human size ball swirls beside me. I watch as her face turns whiter than a sheet.
“You sure you still want to do this?” I ask, I can feel the fear oozing out of her.
“I-I-I um…” I watch her send a glance to her team leader/ boyfriend.
I can’t resist the urge to sneak a peek too his reaction was hilarious, the disgust and complete disgrace he had directed to her actually made me laugh. However I can clearly see he won’t willingly let her back down so, I decide to be nice, well sort of.
“You know what, you’re not worth it.” I say dispersing my water.
Stan Edgar sends me a look of approval filling me with a sense of pride. I never got a look like that from one of my own parents. It felt nice? I don’t know if I’d use that word exactly but, it was definitely a reassurance. Crimson Countess wanders off the wrestling mat completely embarrassed but partially grateful I called it off.
“Pathetic.” I hear Soldier Boy grumble.
“Wow. That’s excellent motivation for your team.” I can’t help but chime.
“The way I run my team has nothing to do with you.” He snarls towering over me.
“Fine. Great way to speak about your girlfriend.” I retort.
“That also has nothing to do with you.” His hypnotic forest green eyes remain locked on mine.
“I’m just speaking out for another lass. Unfortunately she’s too afraid to do it for herself, but she’s not alone the rest of your team are too.” Soldier Boy glances up at his team and sees the fear on their faces.
“Good. That’ll keep them all in line.”
“Fine if that’s how you see it, who am I to say otherwise.”
“Payback, your publicity shoot is coming up.” Edgar says emptying the gym.
“Run along. Don’t want to miss your chance to be centre of attention.” I tease my e/c eyes remaining locked on Soldier Boy’s as he sees no fear in me.
“How’s your hand to hand combat?” He asks out of the blue.
“S’alright. Not great why?” I ask suspiciously.
“I could train you up, no powers though.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Fine. It’s a good thing that all supes get super strength, shame you got a bit more though.”
“See you around, Amphitrite.” He says strolling out of the gymnasium confidently.
There’s a montage of training and sparring with Soldier boy everyday for at least four hours for a total of six weeks. I remember him gradually becoming less and less annoying throughout our sessions, don’t get me wrong he didn’t remotely change anything about himself it just became more amusing than annoying to be around him. From the glint in his eyes and sneers turning into grins I could tell the feeling was mutual. I guess you could say we became friends, we exchanged our actual names, didn’t constantly wear our suits around each other and we willingly spent time together outside of Vought.
“You seem distracted.” Ben says throwing a punch as I duck swiping his leg out from beneath him.
“Me what about you, you didn’t jump.” I say backing up.
“Yeah well it’s honestly like you’re not even in the room.” He replies jumping back up to his feet delivering a round house kick to my stomach.
“Fair enough.” I wheeze slightly gripping my stomach with one arm, blocking his next kick with my other wrist, grabbing his ankle with both hands and pushing him back knocking his balance off, pushing him to the floor pinning him to the mat.
“Tell me what’s wrong Y/n.” He asks genuinely concerned not fighting back.
“We’re friends right?” I ask staying in my straddled position on top of him.
“I’d say so. Why?”
“Well why didn’t you tell me you and Crimson Countess broke up? Noir told me.” I ask feeling like a hurt child.
“It’s not important, we’re still being posed as a couple to the public but…”
“But what? Why don’t you think that’s important?”
“The reason we broke up was you. I haven’t loved her for a long time and the things she was saying about you…blaming you because I didn’t want to be around her.” I felt my heart speed up and begin thudding harder, before Ben flips us so I’m pinned beneath him. “I couldn’t pretend anymore. Somehow… somehow you’ve wormed your way into my heart.”
The sincerity in his tone and the look behind his sparkling eyes was enough for me to see how much he meant it. I could feel teas well up in my eyes, I don’t know what they were for, what they meant I just…I don’t know anymore. My heart hurt like physically hurts with anticipation of what will happen next.
“I think I love you Sweetheart.” Seeing Ben this vulnerable isn’t something I know how to handle, him seeing me this vulnerable too, I feel so weak. “Please say something.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.” I feel a tear trickle down the side of my face as he smiles sweetly at me gently caressing it away with his rough thumb.
He leans his face closer towards me and my eyes flutter closed as I feel his perfectly chapped lips kiss me the scruff of his beard scratching against my face soothingly.
I wake myself up feeling tears rushing down my face, I reach for the photo frame clutching it to my chest. My dream depicting how we met, I still find it hard to believe that it only took us about six or seven weeks to get to that point considering our initial reaction to one another. A small laugh escapes me boarding on the line of being a hysterical one as it once again reminds me just how much I truly miss him.
It takes me a while to settle back down and I’m still clutching the photo. I lean over the side of my bed dragging out a box from underneath it and grabbing one of my joints putting it in my mouth as I rummage around for my lighter igniting it as I take a deep drag. Giving time for the relaxing feeling to wash over me as I sit against the headboard knees against my chest still firmly gripping the frame.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 14/?
Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington's Mother
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Bites, Bisexual Chaos, Dancing, Steve Adopts a Cat, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Protective Steve, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, vampire powers, Season 3 rewrite, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Scoops Ahoy Steve Harrington, Pining, bit of a slow burn, Flirting
Series: Part 1 of Dracula Has a Mullet
Summary:
The discovery that Billy Hargrove is a vampire came at a weird time in a weird way. But there were stranger things in Hawkins, unfortunately.
Unfortunately? How fortunate is a vampire? Especially when it's Billy Hargrove.
The Curse of the Golden Griffin Glyphs is finished! Going to be working on a new story soon. It will be based on questions that plague my mind. Probably going to fandom Hell for writing such a thing. Anyway, AHEM.
What if in S3 E1 Varian took responsibility and ‘cleaned up his own mess’? What if due to the Quirinian explosion he lost his right hand and had no choice but to build a robotic one to replace it. The story will have some dark topics. Learning how to use a functional prosthetic, facing disability discrimination, learning to cope after loss of an appendage, depression, and learning to accept one’s disability are very difficult subjects to write about. Wish me luck; this will be my greatest challenge as a fanfiction author yet. Stay tuned for the new story, Love Is No Accident!
so i've been planning a s3 rewrite since around january (did not know there were so many of those in the works as i was not on hoa tumblr at the time lol). the problem is i have no self control so i've also half-planned a tor rewrite to come after and multiple one shots and ficlets that are set in between the two, including one where they go on a school trip to thorpe park, and i just really wanna write the thorpe park fic now because i'm very fond of it and the s3 rewrite won't be completed for literal years, if at all, but it will spoil certain things about the rewrite. do not know what to do :/
