#apparently i've held onto this shit for a year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emara · 9 months

Text

2HA/DUMB HUSKY AND HIS WHITE CAT SHIZUN PRIMER

i'm making this for a quick reference whenever my friends ask me what 2ha is bc i realised i've been repeating myself ceaselessly every single time i try to explain it. this will contain two parts, both with spoilers and without. the without spoilers part comes first. before anything else though, if you plan to check 2ha out do check out the content warnings and if you aren't comfortable w any of it, even a little, i'd suggest you stop rn. i'm serious. if you need an elaboration on the content warnings then you can text me! but please don't ignore any of it and head into it blindly.

this contains:

SYNOPSIS

BASIC WORLDBUILDING

CHARACTER LIST

TIMELINES ft bonus rockstar taxian jun

FINAL THOUGHTS

there are spoilers timeline onwards, the rest is spoiler-free [or mildly-spoilery but i tried my best to keep spoilers out!]

so if you're here and have decided to keep reading, here's the first half of the primer [no spoilers]

SYNOPSIS

Emperor of the cultivation world Mo Weiyu deceived elders and slaughtered ancestors, and committed all crimes and sins known to man. After ending his own life, he was reborn and transmigrated to the year he first became a disciple. In the shell of a boy held an old and weary soul. After coming back to life, truth after truth that had been hidden below the surface in the previous life floated to the top and broke through the waters one after the other. Of all revelations, the one that stunned him the most was that the Shizun he had hated to the bone in his previous life had always been protecting him from the shadows... The heart of a man can change; even demons and monsters can become compassionate and do good. Only, he had sinned deeply. Can the blood on his hands ever be cleansed?

via 2ha wikia

Yet, after having died and reborn, after having lived two lives, the one he hauled back each time to his den in the end was always the one he couldn’t stand at first: that snow-white kitty shizun.

adding the last bit of the novelupdates summary because it's very important to know that the one mo ran always ends up hauling back to his apparent den [this summary is ripe with dog and cat metaphors] is the one who he very passionately hates, chu wanning.

tldr; taxian jun-- aka mo ran, mo weiyu, emperor of the cultivation world-- fucks shit up, is the reason why the word "tyrant" was coined, commits every crime known to man and then kills himself when he knows he's going to be invaded bc he has no will left in himself to live or fight back. and then the world doesn't let him die because he wakes up again in the body of the little boy he used to be when he was first accepted as a disciple at sisheng peak, under chu wanning's tutelage, as a 15yo again. he finds newer more creative ways to fuck shit up, and alongside that, also finds out things he didn't know to be true in his last lifetime. for example: that chu wanning loved him, apparently, and had maybe not deserved to be the subject of his ceaseless violence in his last lifetime.

BASIC WORLDBUILDING

this bit is for my non-danmei enjoyer buddies, for those who aren't familiar with the genre: here's literally everything you want to know about it. it's a very brief intro to most concepts and worth just skimming through even if not actively reading. i am not chinese and i am not an expert so i won't pretend to be one and explain all of this. moving onto the setting of the novel:

CULTIVATION WORLD

Cultivation World is the broad community of cultivators and their sects. It's divided into upper cultivation world and lower cultivation world.

re: the wikia

upper cultivation world: is near the coastal halves apparently, and is overflowing with spiritual energy. most of the great sects in this cultivation world are here, notably (from the novel): rufeng sect, taxue palace, guyue'ye, wubei temple, jiangdong hall, shangqing pavilion, etc -- these are all the important players and they're all here.

lower cultivation world: this area is routinely plundered by ghosts/demonic invasions because of it's proximity to the ghost city. no major sect is mentioned to be a part of it except for sisheng peak, the main setting, home to mo ran and chu wanning, who have taken up the job of guarding the barrier between the living world and the ghost city that lies there.

there is absolutely no difference in ability across the sects around the cultivation world, as sometimes mistakenly implied by the terms "upper" and "lower."

fengdu ghost city is the ghost city mentioned above that lies in the lower ghost realm.

sisheng peak: a major cultivation sect in the lower cultivation world. scenic and among the mountains, it is a main setting in the novel. it's a cultivation sect known to be passionate about helping people, especially those who cannot afford it. this has made them heroic in the eyes of the common people but a subject to ridicule among the other sects of the upper cultivation world. this sect is headed by xue zhengyong, the sect leader who is to be succeeded by his only son, xue meng (xue ziming).

the elders among sisheng peak are the masters that xue zhengyong went out to look for after laying down the foundation for the sect himself along with his brother and he didn't care for personality or achievements, only just willingness to teach and talent and assigned them their places. they were free to accept disciples on their own and disciples were also free to choose whichever elder they wanted to learn under. this gave the masters a specific title, apparently terms coined from the stars of the big dipper or other constellations, for ex, chu wanning is titled yuheng elder (also: yuheng of the night sky.)

red lotus pavilion: chu wanning's home on sisheng peak

loyalty hall: the main hall of sisheng peak, that you can only reach by climbing 3799 steps >:)

mengpo hall: dining hall adjunct

heaven piercing tower: this is where chu wanning and mo ran meet for the first time, the place where taxian jun chooses to kill himself in the past lifetime, and where most ghosts/spirits/demons are locked up after being captured by the sect

butterfly boned beauty feast: a race of half-demons, half-humans that are said to be the descendants of gouchen, a butterfly-boned demon who aided fuxi, the creation god, in trying to save humans against the swaths of demons that pillaged the human realm. they are said to be extremely beautiful but defenseless as a result of the demon realm casting them out after gouchen's betrayal and as a result, horrifically mistreated across the cultivation world. for ex: guyue'ye had created a secret formula on how to "refine" a bbbf for human consumption in order to achieve better cultivation. they are considered sub-human and hunted and trafficked.

thats all for main body. i think.

CHARACTER LIST

this is not an exhaustive list of all major characters that appear but a list of the major characters that i consider important in non-spoilery terms! [all art embedded is official]

MO RAN/TAXIAN JUN: on the left is mo ran, as a disciple, and on the right is mo ran as taxian jun, the first emperor of the cultivation world.

mo ran is described to be hot-tempered and kind, best understood only by the description he uses for himself-- a dog. his repetitive character traits across both lifetimes of his is that he is the type of person who will never forget kindness or cruelty if bestowed upon him once and he doesn't care about nuances. if people are good, they're good. if they aren't, they aren't. he'll always remember the hands that fed him and those that beat him.

taxian-jun is described to be a violent and mad emperor with little to no sense of self left in him. he has conquered the entirety of the cultivation world ruthlessly by what can best be described as hostile takeover and merciless slaughter. he has nothing left inside him that can call back to the kind child he used to be and is absolutely a miserable shell of a man. he dies in the beginning of the book and is transported back into the body of the boy he used to be, however, and that is the beginning of his reckoning.

CHU WANNING: in both of mo ran's lifetimes, chu wanning is described to be a cold, unfeeling man with a ridiculously ironclad spine for justice. he is suggested to be the stickler for rules type but he isn't, clearly evident by how he would rather choose what is good over what is in accord with process/protocol repeatedly in the text. he is among one of the most powerful men in the world, in terms of cultivation prowess, and owns three holy weapons (which is no ordinary feat). he is known to be among one of the most respected elders in sisheng peak, if also the most distant, and extremely selective when it comes to accepting disciples, having only three.

he has such crippling self esteem that at some point you hear his inner narration and go "i need to wrap him up in a heavy blanket and tell him to take a long nap"

hes an inventor! hes an engineer! hes made many little robot adjacent spiritual envoys that protect poor towns free of cost/little to no cost against ghosts and demons called holy night guardians!

he can't organise to save his life. the first time mo ran visits his room he's literally like "damn bitch u live like this" bc red lotus pavilion appears to not have seen a broom in like. months

this tweet is a canon part of his characterisation to ME. in the words of @ciaran "he is so millions autisms" and also:

ciaran, a modern day prophet

SHI MEI: is one of chu wanning's disciples and a close friend of xue meng and mo ran. mo ran is head over heels in love with him becuase he is one of the few who have shown him unconditional kindness. he is described to be incomparably beautiful and elegant and gentle to match. despite his low spiritual prowess, he is said to be exemplary re: his chosen path of medical practise.

he wrote to chu wanning asking to be his disciple after chu wanning had once found him buried under a stack of books in the rain and offered to walk him back, holding an umbrella over both of them. shi mei then noticed that chu wanning had been holding the umbrella in a certain way to protect him from the rain while his own shoulder was drenched. he was particularly moved by this act of kindness as he hadn't been on the receiving end of much of it, if ever.

XUE MENG: if you're a jiang cheng [mdzs]/mu qing [tgcf] enjoyer he's the most character ever for you. i'm one so i can attest to this. if you're a xie lian [tgcf] fan, then i have one for you too: as a young boy, xue meng was said to be "the darling of the heavens" (until of course, sense and reality was beat into him over and over again by the world, sometimes cruelly, sometimes helplessly). he is the young master of sisheng peak, xue zhengyong's son, and chu wanning's first disciple. he and mo ran are always at odds at the start even though xue meng considers him his brother and loves him still.

he calls mo ran his brother when drunk once and mo ran realises that oh, he's really loved here. he remembers the time he had first come to sisheng, freshly traumatised, and xue meng had brought him a box of sweets and despite his haughty nature and obnoxious voice he'd told him that those sweets were for him and him alone, no one else.

i think xue meng and mo ran can compete in a who loves shizun the most contest actually but xue meng will lose bc mo ran's a freak about cwn

ok that's it for the major characters. i could go on for days if you got me started about nangong si and ye wangxi but i won't. a brief list of other characters below:

xue zhengyong: the sect leader of sisheng peak

wang chuqing aka madam wang: xue meng's mother, former student of guyue'ye

nangong si: head disciple of rufeng sect

ye wangxi: .....a disciple of rufeng sect [im srs if i started talking abt them. i wouldnt ever stop]

song quitong: she rules actually. shes mo ran's lawfully wedded wife [the empress] in his last lifetime and shes meant to marry nangong si in this one. shes a bitch but shes so valid. go off king pull some more nails off their nailbeds! and bury thorns in them! cant a woman be violent around here for one...

idc enough about rufeng sect but another one of the main characters is nangong liu, sect leader of rufeng sect. theres also xu shuanglin. rufeng sect a sect made of assholes fr fr

jiang xi: sect leader of guyue'ye [a sect known for both it's abuse of the butterfly boned beauty feast people under the guise of medical research and for being the first medicine sect] [under jiang xi's tutelage the mistreatment of bbbf people is not known to continue, however, iirc]

mei hanxue: omg not to have a meatbun moment but i almost forgot to mention him, he's one of the main characters and the first disciple of taxue palace! he's supposedly a womaniser and has History w xue meng. across both lifetimes, he was among one of the only cultivators to side w him [in mo ran's first lifetime after becoming taxian jun, both xue meng and mei hanxue were constantly a pain in his ass about staging invasions having allied together against him]

TIMELINES, AKA THE NOT SPOILER FREE PART OF THIS ESSAY

that's it for the characters! from this point on i cannot guarantee no spoilers because [cracks knuckles] here we go, the timeline of events across BOTH of mo ran's lifetimes.

a major, major event that must occur on the scale of svsss's cannon event, luo binghe Must Fall Into The Endless Abyss To Satisfy His Character Requirement, is the heavenly rift. it takes place across both of mo ran's lifetimes an in the first one, he loses shi mei-- the love of his life-- and is driven mad by grief, later becoming a man possessed by nothing but violence and hatred as emperor taxian jun of the cultivation world. in the second heavenly rift after his rebirth, however, [spoilers ahead] the person who dies is chu wanning. and that changes the course of his entire narrative.

the heavenly rift is basically a rift in space time, and its been a problem in this world forever. its like something that keeps happening, it tears open the skies and unleashes a swarm of ghosts and demons depending on which dimension lies beyond the rift.

more explanation on what the heavenly rift is how it played such a huge role in mo ran's character dichotomy coming up in lifetime #2 explanation. here's lifetime #1, to start off with

LIFETIME #1: taxian jun doesn't have a good day. or a good life.

before heavenly rift:

mo ran, 15yo, joins sisheng peak after a series of events that leave him traumatised as fuck for probably. the rest of his life [note: his discomfort regarding the smell of incense that lingers throughout the novel and is explained in the end]

meets chu wanning and is ENDLESSLY fascinted by his almost untouchable grace and beauty, wants to take him as his master. chu wanning refuses

chu wanning finds him scooping earthworms one day when it rains and helping them onto the grass and when he asks, mo ran tells him that he didn't want them to get trampled and its a feat that moves him so much that he literally accepts him as a disciple the very next day

at some point, mo ran plucks a flower that was among one of the rarest blossoms in the cultivation world that madam wang had spent years trying to grow and chu wanning, not understanding why he'd done it, punishes him for it by whipping him with his tianwen. he did it because he thought the flower was a lot like chu wanning and wanted to give it to him but the way cwn punished him after left him inconsolable

all his love and admiration turns to hatred in the aftermath. he realises chu wanning is just as cruel, cold and callous as they all say. at some point, shi mei brings him wontons and it is only then that mo ran's horrible cycle of having locked himself in his room w his injuries curb. he falls in love with shi mei because he brings him wontons and sits next to him and hears him talk. he falls in love with shi mei because shi mei is kind.

he doesn't care abt chu wanning or pays any attention to his lessons, making him notoriously dumb despite his high cultivation prowess that later plays a role in him trying very hard to name the years of his reign across the cultivation role and even naming one of them "the year of cock and balls" -- accidentally, bc he was trying to be the cleverest he could get and made a horrible pun instead. hes the biggest joke in the entirety of this plain when it comes to intellect as taxian jun

heavenly rift:

heavenly rift occurs. when the rift opens basically in this cannon event of sorts: the responsibility to close it falls on chu wanning, and for chu wanning to be able to close it requires a lot of spiritual energy. this rift in particularly opens to infinite hells and unleashes a HORRIBLE SHITLOAD of demons that cut through and mutilate everything in its path.

when chu wanning manages to close it, closing it sends a whiplash of magic back in the form of those ghosts and demons that have already escaped and the wielder, basically, who has been closing it is targetted first in a single shot. like a bullet, imagine. in this lifetime, shi mei and chu wanning had been closing it so it affects both of them

mo ran finds shi mei in a pool of blood and sees chu wanning walk away and processes that as chu wanning abandoning them and it is this move that cements his dislike for chu wanning into full blown hatred and marks his descent into taxian jun.

taxian-jun era:

chu wanning watches him spiral and tries to make him wontons the way shi mei did and mo ran catches him in the act and is spews vitriol-filled bullshit when he upends the bowl of wontons and accuses chu wanning of being the reason shi mei died and of trying to take his place now [actually i don't remember if he accuses him for his death. but. shrugs]

he masters zhenlong chess formation [one of the three forbidden techniques because of how they can turn human beings into dead chess pieces vulnerable to manipulation] and uses it to be able to take over the entire cultivation world. then, he annihilates the entirety of sisheng peak and captures chu wanning

he humiliates chu wanning in every way possible: sexually, physically, verbally. the dubcon/noncon here is very... in another world, not like this, this is all that chu wanning has ever wanted. buuuut. it isn't. like that. in this one. he marries chu wanning and gives him the title of chu-fei (consort chu) and his obsession with him grows and grows and grows until it consumes everything.

he is said to be extremely unsettled after every uh.... advent outside [bloodbaths] and only crumbling into chu wanning's embrace [note: the man he apparently hates the most] consoles him then. here's a gorgeous art based on the line that i think deserves a spot in the louvre

what he holds over chu wanning, the reason for chu wanning's constant compliance to each one of his whims, is xue meng's life. when xue meng attempts an assassination that he almost succeeds in, taxian jun has finally had enough and then tells cwn he's going to kill him and cwn should stay put. cwn tells him that if he does go then cwn will kill himself in front of him. mo ran does not budge, he doesn't believe in the threat

cwn makes good on the threat and uses the final bit of his life force to summon his his second weapon, jiuge, stronger than tianwen [his chosen spiritual weapon] to break the effect of mo ran's zhenlong chess formation as he attacks taxue palace and xue meng, and then falls to his death

mo ran doesn't quite process it at first and is in disbelief. as cwn lays dying, he asks mo ran to forgive himself and mo ran doesn't quite know what to do with it. he ties cwn's body to his own spiritual energy and preserves it in red lotus pavilion as he goes off the last possible vestiges of his hinges that he didn't even know he was still hooked onto

at some point in bw, he spirals pretty badly and asks to wear his old disciple clothes that don't fit him anymore and has a breakdown about how he can't go back to the person he used to be.

he then decides to die at the forefront of an allied cultivation world marching into his stronghold by taking poison, ending his first lifetime for once and for all. he is 32, then.

LIFETIME #2: life drags mo ran back to his 15yo body and tells him to 'get another load of this shit'

before heavenly rift:

everything from mo ran joining to shi mei's wontons happen in the same fashion prior to taxian jun waking up in his 15yo self.

this time he wakes up and is immediately punished by cwn, again, for being a miscreant

xue meng is still annoying

but best of all SHI MEI IS ALIVE<3

this time around, mo ran decides to actually use his foresight from his last life and pay attention-- making him notably smarter! surprise suprise when u do the reading... u grow up to be well read?!?!?-- and as he actually does something to help instead of just being a terrible student all the time, he gets closer to chu wanning too

he notes things he seems to have forgotten from his last life, including how chu wanning constantly puts himself in harm's way to protect his disciples and how rigid his sense of justice is [cwn literally whips the guy who pays him to exorcise the ghost in his house bc he talks to the ghost and finds out these people treated her horribly in life w no remorse whatsoever] [he then proceeds to take on whatever punishment need be, which is being disciplined by another fucking elder-- a humiliating feeling no doubt and no one is even forcing it on him, instead telling him he doesn't have to actually go through this because he's an elder and he's exempt to which he argues that if he holds his disciples to this standard then he will hold himself to it, too. he expresses no regret]

mo ran at first enjoys his punishment but he when he finds out that chu wanning had not informed anyone about the injuries he'd sustained from the mission he finds it so absurd he doesn't know what to do abt it

they have a hot/cold relationship and mo ran quickly grows to understand that ok, maybe he had judged chu wanning too harshly in his past lifetime

heavenly rift:

and then the heavenly rift occurs, which well, the premise is the same this time around. chu wanning needs to close it. but mo ran knows what happens and cant let shi mei die so he puts himself in shi mei's place and offers to help. and in doing that, he is the one who is levelled the killing blow alongside chu wanning

he begs chu wanning to turn one last time as he lies there dying but while he'd afforded shi mei at least one last look, he doesn't look back at mo ran as he leaves him behind. mo ran processes this in disbelief, concluding that no he wasn't partial in his assumption of chu wanning's character and that to him, chu wanning is even worse than a dog in terms of worth

i assume it is his higher cultivation prowess or chu wanning's panicked speed of wrapping the demon shit up but by the time cwn comes back to pick him out of the rubble, he still has some of his life force left in him and cwn channels the rest of his spiritual energy inside him to keep him alive. he takes him all the way back to sisheng peak and then climbs 3799 steps with mo ran on his back while being worse off than even an average human being in terms of ability, injured, bruised and bleeding from the same wounds that are currently killing mo ran and from more additional ones he sustained neutralising everything. when he can't climb, he crawls and crawls until his hands tear open and every single part of his visible skin is marred with cuts.

he reaches loyalty hall. mo ran is heaved off him and into safety.

chu wanning dies.

after heavenly rift aka reckoning:

mo ran wakes up and is at first filled with joy. he's alive! shi mei is alive! the crisis has been averted but why is it that no one looks happy? he makes an off-handed comment about cwn and xue meng loses it-- they have a fight and mo ran is like "why should i be nicer to chu wanning when he's done nothing for me!" unaware of what exactly chu wanning has done for him, and xue meng breaks down into sobs. he holds onto mo ran and tells him "shizun would be so sad if he heard you say that from down below" and mo ran momentarily does not know how to react [i keep thinking about him going soft and sober for a second, telling mo ran, "ge, we don't have a shizun anymore"]

it is like he is taxian jun again, holding the cwn's dead body in his arms as it turns increasingly cold, when he lashes out at xue meng in disbelief. he is told what chu wanning did for him and he is horrified. he is horrified. he cant grieve. he cant eat. he cant sleep.

it is two lifetime worth of a misunderstanding that catches up. he understands that the reason for his visceral hatred of chu wanning, the part he played in shi mei's death, could have never been avoided. and that chu wanning never abandoned them, abandoned him.

it is three days after chu wanning's death that mo ran cries and it's the scene again: shizun, won't you pay attention to me? and its heartbreaking. hes like i wont hate you anymore if you just nod once, just once, and chu wanning lies there unmoving. unhearing. unfeeling. like chu fei did, a lifetime ago, unmoving, unhearing, unfeeling-- cruel and cold as he always had been to mo ran. but he wasn't, mo ran knows now. he wasn't cruel to him ever, and back then he was just dead.

anyw, then master huaizui from wubei temple comes knocking at sisheng peak's gates when he hears of cwn's death and they all find out that he was huaizui's student. huaizui tells mo ran that he knows of a way to resurrect cwn but for that, they will have to gather all his souls, starting with his human soul that will return to fulfill the biggest regret he had in life on the seventh day after his death. he is handed a lantern, the light of which will allow him to see the soul and call it inside.

this is the first part of "everything comes to a full circle" of mo ran's journey. mo ran finds chu wanning's soul in mengpo hall, with no memory of anything but his regret, making wontons. he is blind, here, and is touching everything including the pot on the pyre with his hands alone to be able to tell where what should go. his robes are as white and bloodied as they were when he died. mo ran breaks down and falls to his knees in front of him when cwn senses his presence and thinks he is shi mei, calling him over to take those wontons to mo ran and help him feel better. he realises the one who made those wontons all along was chu wannning, not shi mei and remembers how he had thrown his wontons to the ground post shi mei's death in his last lifetime in a fit of fury as he considered him responsible for his death and trying to poorly imitate who he was. he remembers how chu wanning had picked them up, one by one, and thrown them away without saying anything.

he understands chu wanning's biggest regret in his life was not going to mo ran himself and apologising, which he believed was the reason behind mo ran's twisted and fervent hatred for him.

mo ran goes to the underworld. he brings him back from the dead. he spends 5 years in suffering as huaizui works to merge all of cwn's souls together with his body.

the rest of what happens, i will not continue. this is already far too long. but this much should clarify whats happening for those REALLY in doubt.

i am choosing not to mention some of the real spoilery parts, including chu fei/mo ran's rebirth and the [flower] shit. if you know you know! if you want to know, really desperately, my dms are open.

for further reference regarding the highlights in both those timelines, here is how mo ran's character is referred to across all the stages of his increasing understanding and awareness:

bonus: rockstar taxian jun

FINAL THOUGHTS:

2ha actually is one of the most wonderful things i've read in a long while. it asks an insane unhinged unwell question that takes "would you still love me if i were a worm" to newer, cosmical levels [metaphorically equivalent to "would you still love me if i were a sewer-dwelling rat"] and answers it with "yes" and then goes and to extreme lengths to justify that answer. i love it so much. i don't think i've ever read something i loved this much in a long, long while. i would never work this hard in a bout of insanity for a primer if i didn't love it, first of all, i'm notoriously lazy. i hate doing anything. xx

but yes. so recently i wrote a fic, in trying to write a tribute to how intentionally, how terribly, chu wanning loves mo ran [to the point of death and more] and i quoted the mary oliver excerpt from march, at the end, which i think surmises ranwan perfectly.

TRANSCRIPT: There isn’t anything in this world but mad love. Not in this world. No tame love, calm love, mild love, no so-so love. And, of course, no reasonable love. [...] Something touched me, lightly, like a knife-blade. I felt I was bleeding, though just a little, a hint. Inside I flared hot, then cold. I thought of you. Whom I love, madly. ― MARCH, mary oliver

THERE ISN'T ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD BUT MAD LOVE, FORREAL. NO SO-SO LOVE. NO REASONABLE LOVE. and also, "I thought of you, whom I love, madly."

but another quote i think from salt is for curing by sonya vatomsky is also what i think of when i think of them

TRANSCRIPT: The safest place to bury a body / is another body, / is in your own body.

girls when they are driven mad by horrific love, by undeniable love, by terrible, stubborn love across lifetimes (two lifetimes, they are both yours, no regrets) ok i'm so normal about them

if you actually have read until here u should a) talk to me about ranwan and b) listen to my ranwan playlist that (archie voice) i know holds all the secrets of this universe bro :)

ok i don't know what else to say. i've been writing this for four hours straight and its 3am. i'll do anything but actually write fic fr. anyw! talk to me! goodbye! i'm sorry for being insane about this!

this is actually what prompted this

#this is the mother of all long posts i've made in my life. i've never made a long post #2ha #erha #dumb husky and his white cat shizun #二哈和他的白猫师尊 - 肉包不吃肉 #二哈和他的白猫师尊 #ranwan #chu wanning #mo ran #taxian jun #once again. i need people to see this

48 notes · View notes

licensedqueerio · 1 year

Text

Part One - The Hallucination

I haven't posted in ages, so have something I've been working on for a bit. This is a Eddie Munson ghost AU, where he was in fact a cult leader, some stuff went wrong, and ultimately lead to his death. Now he's trying to fix it.

So far, this is a three part story, I hope this first part interests you enough to keep reading. Happy holidays, and Happy New Years. Last post of 2022, whoo, thank you everyone who stuck with me through the year!

(Side note, there's a random character thrown in. I promise he's relevant later in the story)

—

Word count: 4.6k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Male!Reader

Warnings: some horror stuff, character death mentioned, swearing, mention of drugs

Request Here

—

"Why do I have to go?" You sighed tiredly as you glared at the other three boys wrapped up in varsity jackets. Really, out of the four of you, you didn't understand why you'd been elected to go and check out the supposed 'haunted' trailer park. It was apparently a town legend.

"Because you're the skeptic," Mason, a boy on the team and your friend, said with a casual shrug. "Who better to go check out this place? Maybe it'll finally get you to believe the freaky shit that happened here."

You sighed again, "no matter how many times you say it, I'm not buying the satanic ritualistic sacrifice gone wrong," you droned, "it isn't haunted, I have so many other things I could be doing right now instead of freezing my dick off and trespassing."

"And breaking and entering," Mason completed, and frowned at the looks he received, "what?" He complained, “whatever. Do it, don't do it. You literally have nothing better to do," he claimed.

He was right of course, but you weren't about to admit that to him. You sighed and stuffed your hands back in your pockets, the cold was making them go numb. "Fifty bucks?" You asked.

Mason grinned, his cheeks dimpled, "yep. Fifty bucks, as agreed. Bring back a souvenir as proof."

Bringing back a 'souvenir' sounded like you were begging a ghost to come haunt you. You didn't say this either. You sighed and wondered how you'd gotten here, but also didn't voice that thought because you knew what Mason would say; some smartass answer like 'a car', because he was an asshole.

"Fine," you relented and snatched the flashlight out of his hands. "I fucking hate you," you muttered under your breath and stomped to the fence that sectioned the trailer park off. You got past it with relative ease and held the flashlight like a weapon as you walked through the place. It felt like a graveyard.

Fifty bucks was not worth it, you should have negotiated for more. You pulled your jacket tighter around your body as you searched for the correct trailer you were supposed to be rooting around in.

The story you were told was this; a satanic cult leader tried to murder a cheerleader in some sick ritual a handful of years ago in '83 and it had backfired. The two were both found dead inside the trailer. The inhabitants of the trailer park all soon moved away, including the boys guardian. It's been empty ever since.

Last year, apparently a girl had dared venture into the trailer and claimed she saw the undead cult leader.

When you were told this story, obviously you scoffed at it. Ghosts weren't real, and neither were satanic cult leaders. Not in Hawkins Indiana. It was a ridiculous idea to entertain.

But here you were.

You shined the light onto the trailer and squinted at the old number hanging on it. You had arrived at your destination.

You walked up the three stairs to the front door, the old wood creaked beneath your feet and you prayed they weren't too rotten and we're able to support your weight.

You turned the doorknob, unsurprised to find it unlocked. You pushed it open slowly and grimaced at the creak. You slipped inside and a punched out noise escaped your lips as you shone the light across the small trailer.

Baseball caps decorated the top of the walls, while shelves carried an assortment of mugs, all appearing to be different shapes and colors.

A layer of dust coated everything across the room, and the ceiling had a disturbing looking tear across it, with a dark stain overlaying it. Maybe mold had done it, or water damage. But directly below it was blood, stained into the carpet.

One minute you were staring at the stain of blood, and the next, you were there; in the past, staring down at the two bodies as they bled out.

Soft brown eyes snapped up to you as the boy laid dying on the carpet, his hand valiantly trying to stop the blood pouring from his neck.

Around you, you made out the face of a curly haired boy who stood in a circle with six others.

It did look like a cult.

"What are you doing here?" The dying boy mouthed, but you heard his low whispered voice directly in your ear, startling you back to the present. You whipped around to stare at the empty space beside you.

You exhaled slowly, reassuring yourself that no one was there and you were safe. You were just paranoid from all the stories you'd heard. That's all that was going on.

You shook yourself and continued to look around. Other than the blood stained on the floor it looked like a normal home. The furniture hadn't been touched, and as you continued to walk deeper into the trailer, you noticed everything on the counters had been untouched. Medication bottles, scattered papers and mail, and forgotten dishes.

You urged your feet forward into the kitchen area. Everything smelled…old, and stale. It made sense, considering how long ago everything had gone down. You were surprised to see pots of what had once been food still on the stove and dirty dishes in the sink. Nothing had changed.

"Get out," a malicious voice hissed from directly behind him.

"What the fuck!" You snapped and whirled around, shining your light from left to right, but no one was there. You were going crazy, it was official.

Wonderful. Mason owed you a hell of a lot more than fifty dollars.

You passed the kitchen, not keen on seeing moldy food or maggots.

You soon found yourself in a bedroom. It looked like it had belonged to a teenage boy once. Band and horror movie posters covered every inch of the walls. Nothing about it screamed cult leader. Maybe the metal posters could be taken the wrong way, but his taste in music didn't make him a cult leader.

You frowned as you cautiously stepped forward, sweeping the room further. There wasn't much space for things, but the two desks and the single drawer in the room were covered with things. Small figurines, books with obscure titles—a few Tolkien works, but others seemed darker. The strange thing was, nothing had dust on it. The room was in excellent condition and still looked lived in.

Directly in front of you, hanging in front of a wide mirror, was the most beautiful guitar you had perhaps ever laid eyes on. You stepped forward and reached out to touch it.

"Get out!" The same voice repeated, Louder this time and you dropped your hand.

"Fuck you," you muttered under your breath before you could catch yourself. Great. Now you were talking to your hallucinations.

"You're brave." Mocking laughter echoed in your head, flossing through your ears. "Take the guitar," the voice suddenly urged.

You paused as you stared at said guitar. Why would you listen to a strange voice in your head? It didn't sound smart, in fact, it was probably the dumbest idea you'd ever had.

You reached out and carefully pulled the guitar down, dust sticking to your hands. You looked down at it and shine the light on it to get a better look. It was red and black, and the strings looked to still be in good shape.

It would make a good souvenir to bring back to Mason, and as you turned around to leave, you saw a boy standing in the corner with a grin on his lips.

When you did a double take to see if he was real, you found nothing.

Strange.

You held the guitar by the neck and quickly hurried out of the old trailer. You weren't scared, but you didn't want to spend any more time there than you had to.

Mason and the others whooped with joy when you returned, though they quieted down once they realized you had brought back a souvenir. Almost like they hadn’t planned on you actually going through with it.

“Here,” you said and held out the guitar to Mason, “it’s still in decent condition, might have to change the strings though,” you said and shrugged, “I’m never going back there again, it’s disgusting. There’s still blood on the floor,” you said with a shudder.

“Holy shit,” Mason whispered, but immediately shied away from the guitar, “oh no, you keep that. Bad luck,” he said wisely. He dug his hand into his jean pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty dollar bill, “here. Now come on, you can buy us dinner,” he said with a grin.

“You’re delusional,” you replied with a laugh, you looked down at the guitar, and for a second, you could almost feel cold fingers wrapping around your own. You shook it off though when one of your teammates complained about being cold and climbed back into the car.

You ended up buying an extremely late night lunch anyway before heading home. You snuck back in through your window so your parents wouldn’t know you’d been sneaking around and hid the guitar in your closet. You would make up a lie for it’s sudden appearance tomorrow, but now you just wanted to sleep.

You fell face first into your bed and passed out.

—

There were fingers trailing across your cheek. Gently grazing your skin with featherlight pressure. It sent a chill down your spine and an involuntary shudder racked your body. The touch halted, before it disappeared entirely.

Later, you chalked it up to a dream, that you’d still been sleeping and had a strange dream that involved you and a stranger. Despite that, it weighed on the back of your mind all day and led to a split lip and bloody nose from taking a baseball to the face.

Lucky for you, this meant you were able to go home early, which you did gladly.

Then things got weird.

You walked into your bathroom, a wad of toilet paper pressed to your nose to stop the profuse bleeding. Your eyes still stung with tears brought on by the pain and with a frustrated growl you wiped them away. You missed the reflection of a boy standing behind you.

You sighed and pulled the toilet paper away from your face. You grimaced at the bruises that had already formed and sighed. You bent your head and scrubbed the blood off your hand and then wiped it off your face, careful not to aggravate your wounds.

You lifted your head back up and a startled yelp escaped your lips at the translucent boy standing over your shoulder. With a racing heart you whipped around but saw nothing but the wall. You exhaled sharply and muttered, “what the fuck?” Before you wiped your face and tried to shake the feeling of terror that had flooded you.

You leaned forward to examine the mirror and swiped a hand across it. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, or the tears in your eyes. Or a ghost. You shook your head and dispelled such silly thoughts. Ghosts didn't exist.

“Your pretty face got messed up,” a chilling voice whispered into your ear, almost as if it could hear your thoughts and had to prove you wrong. You spun around again with wide eyes and only saw a flash of translucent clothing before it was gone.

You quickly fled the bathroom with a pounding heart. You hurried down the hallway where the voice taunted, "don't be scared, darling."

You made it into your room and slammed the door shut. You pressed your back against the painted white door and heaved for breath through your panic. You tried to reassure yourself that you were fine, that you were tired and needed some sleep was all. Everything you heard was a sleep deprivation hallucination.

"Oh sweetheart, a closed door can't stop me," the same voice whispered in your ear. You held your breath as ice cold fingers grazed the back of your neck and down your spine. You could feel the chill through your shirt.

Mocking laughter filled your ears, and it got louder and louder. It overlapped itself until it was a chaotic cacophony of harsh noise, you had to slam your hands over your ears in a desperate, vain attempt to drown it out. It didn't work of course.

Your ears rang that entire night. You laid in bed, paranoid as the shadows of your room seemed to jump out at you. But you would have rather died than risk getting up and shutting them back on. So, you suffered through the night until the sun came up.

—

"You look like shit," Mason said, accompanied by a low whistle. "You good, man?"

No, you were not good. Your nose bridge was bruised and it had spread to your eyes. It hurt, and you still couldn't completely hear. Oh, and you were exhausted due to your restless night.

"Fuck off," you mumbled and dropped your head onto the cafeteria table. It was so loud, you were beginning to regret coming to school. "I feel like shit. Fucking face hurts you fuckwad," you grumbled under your breath.

Mason only laughed and clapped a hand on your shoulder, "I wasn't the one to hit you in the face, that honor falls on Sinclair," he responded.

"What did I do?" Sinclair asked as he sat down. He was a senior, two years older than you.

"What didn't you do," a new voice snorted.

"You busted Y/N's face up," Mason responded. "He looks like shit. Shame, his looks were the only thing that saved his shining personality."

You lifted your head, intending to punch him in the shoulder before you violently startled when you made eye contact with the boy besides Sinclair. You stared unblinking at the head of curly hair, disbelieving. What the fuck.

"Dude," Mason said, "what's wrong with you?" He asked with a frown.

"I have to— I have to go, I'm gonna, I'm gonna go," you stammered out. You nearly face planted when your foot got caught on the table's bench, but Mason grabbed your arm to steady you. You said nothing and instead tugged your arm away from him and hurried out of the cafeteria.

He had been there. The boy with curly hair was there when that kid died. He had been standing in that circle, watching as he bled out. What the fuck.

"Scared of Dustin?" The chilling voice breathed in your ear, and you stumbled. You caught yourself on the wall and ignored the looks you had received. You choked on your breath as you shoved the door open and stepped outside.

"Kids harmless," the voice taunted, "don't be scared, darling," it continued, sending a chill down your spine.

"Fuck off," you snapped and ran to the field, then past it and into the trees. You didn't know where you were going, you were just trying to outrun the voice.

"Ouch, that's not very nice," it hissed.

Suddenly, you felt something in front of your leg at the same time something shoved you from behind. You tripped and flying to meet the ground, landing on your front and wheezing for breath. "Fuck," you ground and rolled onto your back. You sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm your hammering heart.

"Get up."

You flinched and sat up instantly. You whipped your head around and tried to look for whoever was speaking. "Show yourself!" You demanded, "who the fuck are you!? Just leave me alone!" You shouted and clambered to your feet, brushing the dead leaves off your body and from your hair.

"No," the voice whispered, drifting in through one ear, then the other.

You flinched away and slammed your hands over your ears, "then go fuck yourself," you snarled and whirled around and stomped back the way you came. A chilling presence on your back alerted you to your doom half a second too late. You went sprawling on your front once more.

"You piece of shit," you groaned into the dirt.

"You aren't being nice, darling," the voice cooed, "haven't you figured it out yet? No? Well, you'll figure it out soon enough," it said and disappeared.

You stayed on the ground for half a second longer before you shoved yourself to your feet. You sighed and brushed more of the leaves off of yourself. You were going insane. That was fun. Even worse, you had talked to your hallucinations and it had responded, which was vaguely terrifying but you were much too tired to deal with it.

—

You got little more than an hour of sleep that night and the bruises on your face seemed to have only gotten worse, which was just great.

"What happened yesterday?" Mason immediately asked when you sat at the desk besides him. "You freaked then disappeared. And you look like shit again," he said before sighing, "I'm worried."

"Don't be, I'm fine," you responded. "Just having trouble sleeping."

Mason narrowed his eyes, "okay," he said slowly. "If you need anything, let me know, yeah? Or I can hook you up with some stuff to help you sleep," he offered.

"Naughty naughty, darling. Friends with dealers?"

You flinched and looked over your shoulder, but like always, nothing was there. God you needed to sleep. "Yeah, do that. I'll stop by your place after school," you said before he could ask what was wrong.

Mason sighed. But he nodded and turned his head to the front of the room when the teacher walked in.

You dutifully copied down notes without any incidents. Until, you looked back up at the board and saw him. He was leaning innocently against the board, staring at you with curious brown eyes.

Oh.

You stared back at him. Well. That's what you get for going into that damn trailer, you were so paranoid you were hallucinating a dead boy. Something was wrong with your head. Maybe your parents dropped you on your head when you were a baby, you'd have to ask.

"Mr. L/N!"

You jolted and looked at the teacher, "sorry. What?"

"I hated her," the boy said matter of factly, though he was on the other side of the room you could still hear him directly in your ear. "She kept failing me."

You glared at him, willing him to be silent. It was your hallucination wasn't it? It could at least shut up when someone was talking.

Speaking of which, you heard nothing the teacher said and looked at her blankly. "What?"

Giggles erupted around the room and you frowned.

"Mr. L/N if you're having trouble focusing in my class, perhaps you'd do better in the office," she suggested.

"What? No, no. I'm fine," you denied. "I'm fine, I'm focusing. Sorry."

"See? Bitch," the boy hissed and glared venomously at the woman.

You ignored him.

"Well then come up here and solve this problem. Let's go," she said sharply and held out a stick of chalk.

You stood up and made your way to the front of the room. You took the piece of chalk from her and stared at the math problem at the board. After a moment, you began to write.

"Well aren't you smart, darling?" The boy purred in your ear and you shuddered, but otherwise ignored him.

You hurried to finish the problem before quickly heading back to your seat, staring at your notebook instead of the boy.

"You good? You were spacing out there, man," Mason whispered.

"I'm fine," you snapped under your breath.

Mason impatiently sighed, "whatever, dude," he muttered.

You frowned at him before sighing too. Whatever was right. Once you got your head back on straight you'd apologize, until then, he would be fine, you had more pressing issues than his hurt feelings. Like the dead boy staring at you from across the room, distracting you for the rest of class.

—

You didn’t see the hallucination for the rest of the day, which you were thankful for, you were going to go crazy at this rate. You knew moving to this middle of nowhere town had been a mistake. But did your parents listen to you? Of course not.

You drove out to Mason’s house in the evening, cash in your pocket from hard earned money that you deserved to spend on…pharmaceuticals. And Mason was one of the only dealers in school, and because you were friends, he was usually willing to give you discounts on the goos stuff.

It was perfect.

You walked around and into his backward and knocked sharply on his window. It took two seconds before his curtains were being yanked open and he appeared in the glass. He smiled and pulled his window up and open, “hey.”

“Hi,” you responded, head tilted back so you could look at him, “how much?”

Mason held the sealed baggie out, “free of charge,” he answered and leaned against the windowsill. “I feel bad,” he explained.

You frowned and furrowed your brow at him. Why would he feel bad?

“Because we forced you to go into that trailer. Now you’re not sleeping, I feel bad,” Mason explained, “we shouldn’t have made you go in.”

You took the baggie from him, not one to turn down free goods, and stuffed it in your pocket before you looked back at him. “Not your fault I’m going crazy,” you laughed, like you weren’t genuinely concerned for your mental state. At his curious stare you continued, “I’m hallucinating. I think because of the lack of sleep, I keep seeing that dead kid,” you confessed and scratched your jaw.

“The…dead kid?” Mason slowly repeated and frowned, expression twisting, “...Munson, you mean? That was his trailer. Why…How do you know what he looks like? You have to know what he looks like in order to hallucinate him,” he said and frowned at you, like you had said something wrong.

“Oh, go on, sweetheart. I want to hear you explain this,” the boy—Munson said in your ear, you could feel his cold breath fan over your ear and shuddered. At least you hadn’t flinched this time.

How did you know what he looked like? You didn’t know him, had never seen any photos of him. So how would you hallucinate him? Was it even possible? Were you actually seeing Munson or did your brain just tell you it was Munson and you were hallucinating a stranger you saw on the street?

“He’s waiting,” Munson unhelpfully informed.

“In-in his room,” you quickly stammered and stepped back, away from his window and judgemental facial expressions, “I saw a picture in his room. It’s where I got the guitar. I’m gonna go,” you said and nearly tripped over your own feet as you tried to get away, “thanks,” you belated called over your shoulder and hurried out of his yard and back to your car.

You made it down the street before ‘Munson’ reappeared with a “boo!” that scared you so bad you had to pull over and take a deep breath. You didn’t realize you were shaking until you took your hands off the steering wheel.

“I could have died,” you said and stared at the wheel. Was it suicide if your hallucination caused the wreck?

“It’s not as scary as the movies make it out to be,” Munson drawled from the passenger seat, and when you looked over, you saw him sitting there like it was perfectly normal. Like he wasn’t see through and a hallucination. He turned his head to stare at you, “hi.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Munson raised a brow and pushed long, curly hair out of his face. After another second of this, he frowned and leaned forward, across the center divider and into your space.

He inspected you up close for a moment and in your bewilderment, you let him.

“So,” he said, “why can you see me? I’ve been trying to get people’s attention for the last three years and suddenly you come into my trailer and see me? Why?” He demanded.

“...you’re my hallucination, of course I can see you,” you said slowly, “I think I may be insane. Damn. My middle school bully was right.” You frowned at him.

Munson didn’t seem to find this funny and stretched a hand out and poked you in the forehead.

To both of your surprises, his finger made contact with your forehead, rather than travel through you.

“Huh,” Munson said and looked out at his hand, “I thought earlier was a fluke. That was weird, I can’t touch anyone, it’ll go through…” His voice trailed off and he poked you in the forehead again, “and I’m not a hallucination, sweetheart. I promise.” He faked a smile, “I’m a ghost. A very annoyed one. You’re not insane.”

You jerked away from his hand, “no, I’m definitely insane. You’re not a ghost. You can’t be a ghost, because ghosts aren’t real. You aren’t real.”

“Hey!” Munson said sharply and stuck his finger in your face, “I’m real. I can touch you! How am I not real? Also, who doesn’t believe in ghosts?”

“Me!”

“Well, now you have to believe because I’m sitting right in front of you,” he hissed and poked you in the cheek this time.

You narrowed your eyes at him, which he mirrored half a second later. The two of you stared at each other until finally, you sighed. “Fine. Let’s say I believe that this isn’t some insane hallucination slash dream my mind concocted, what do you want? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

Munson took his hand back and victoriously smiled, “I’ve been stuck like this for three painful years. I know exactly how to be human again and leave this ghost bullshit behind, but I can’t use any of my knowledge because no one can see me. Until you.”

You mocked his fake smile, “what. Do. You. Want?” You repeated.

“I need your help in getting a body. A dead one, specifically. But you have to kill him in a certain way or else it won’t work and I’ll remain a ghost. Got it?”

You recoiled, “you want me to kill someone!?” You shouted, “No! What are you, crazy? No, absolutely not, no way.”

“Yes way,” Munson said, “he’ll only be dead for like, a minute tops!” He promised, “then I can take over his body and boom! Human again!” The excitement in his voice made you pause in your panic. If, and that was a big if, he wasn’t lying, if ghosts really did exist and he was one of them, he had been stuck like this for years. Unable to talk to anyone, unable to be seen by anyone, unable to do anything but exist in the balance between life and death.

It sounded awful.

You dropped your head and stared at your lap. With a heavy sigh, you murmured, “fine. Fine, but I want you to know this is crazy. Level ‘I believe the earth is flat’ crazy,” you said and lifted your head to glare.

Munson only grinned back at you, “I know,” he excitedly laughed and punched his arms in the air, “I’m gonna be alive again. I’m gonna be alive again!” He screamed and whooped, laughing the entire time.

You couldn’t help but smile at his attitude and nodded, “I’m going to drive home and you are going to be silent. Then, you can explain everything to me and we can set up ground rules. Deal?” You asked and looked at him expectantly.

Munson stuck his hand out, after a moment, you took it. “Deal,” he echoed with a warm smile.

#ransomswriting #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #x reader #male reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x male y/n #reader insert #ghost au #writing requests open

69 notes · View notes

omniblades-and-stars · 4 months

Text

following the current, circling the drain

read on a03 | spotify playlist for good vibes

Well, shit, this certainly complicates things. Found myself in a bit of a conundrum now, haven't I? You probably have too, since you're also sitting in this shitty little cracker box of a "prison cell" in the basement of self-proclaimed warlord and arms dealer Sitis Epirian's sort-of-mansion. Or what counts as a mansion on this blessed rock called Omega. It’s more like a mercenary compound with fancy art tacked up on the walls than an actual mansion. Big and fortified, just like any hobbyist warlord should have.

Name's Inonsi, I'd say it's good to meet you, but the circumstances being what they are ...

Shit, will you calm down? Stop freaking out, it's not so bad here. They even put a bucket in here so you can piss somewhere other than your pants or the floor. I've been stuck in worse, comes with the territory. If you wait patiently, everything will work out, you can trust me on that. I've never let something like six-inch bulletproof glass with kinetic impact barriers, high tech security systems, locks, and a literal mercenary army stop me before. And if you so happen to slip out when I'm done ... well, that's none of my business, now is it?

I know what you're thinking, how did the drell with beautiful shining scales and eyes like endless obsidian pools end up getting manhandled and tossed into a man like Epirian's torture dungeon? Well, I could tell you the entire story from start to finish in exacting and exhaustive detail, right down to the number of buttons on my father's dinner jacket that he wore one time when I was five years old (seven brass buttons that caught the light and shimmered like small stars, by the way), but I won't do that. You humans don't have the attention span for that kind of biography.

But we've got some time to kill, I love talking about myself, and you seem like you're on the verge of a stroke. You need a distraction. Put your feet up friend, relax and let the tide flow out to the sea.

Disappearing Apprentice

I was a special child, training under a specialist known far and wide for her skills in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat. Why was a child training under someone like that? Easy enough answer, the Compact. The hanar saved my people two centuries ago and now there's some long-held belief that all drell owe a debt to the hanar for it. And so sometimes, promising young upstarts with apparent skill in sneaking around and good balance get plucked from their parents to be trained as assassins, soldiers and mercenaries, and they're supposed to be thankful for it.

Etensan Laon was a difficult mistress, impossible to please.

"Again!" She shouts. A crimson scaled hand flies out and wraps tight around my ankle. One short tug topples me from my perch on the worn balance beam, the fading vinyl covering over the center evidences the apprentices of times past. I land hard on my back, my breath comes in short, painful gasps, her fingers are still digging around my ankle. She sneers down at me, lips turned up in the left corner with disdain. There are white stripes running from the crown of her head to her neck. "Balance and attention, Inonsi! Simply remaining upright when you land your jump is not sufficient. You will fall to your death if a strong breeze catches you unaware, as I have just done."

I am only seven years old, but she will not let go of my ankle. I know I must free myself from her grasp. One cannot depend on never being caught. Her talons scrape against my scales, still sore from the last two days we have been doing this exercise, repeating this exact scenario. "Yes, Sera Laon," I say before I swing my other leg beneath hers and attempt to pull her down. She does not fall to the ground, her knee only buckles, but her grip around my ankle weakens and I roll back, pulling myself free.

It is sloppy, unskilled, but it works. I leap back onto the balance beam to start again. I must be perfect. Etensan Laon does not tolerate imperfection.

Oh, sorry about that. Happens sometimes. You get used to it.

Well, I trained with Laon until I was ten years old. I was great. At ten years old, if something had a neck, I could theoretically snap it. If there was something to climb, leap from, hide behind, or twist myself into, I could do it. You know that thing in all the spy movie vids where the spy disappears into a crowd or into a passing shadow? Well, I could do that too. But I wasn't perfect, and I hated that as much as Laon seemed to hate me. It worked out in the end though.

Because I got to leave.

I was allowed to visit with my parents sometimes, and one of those times, my world went upside down. You see dear old dad got involved in some political scandal, the nature of which is quite embarrassing if you know anything about hanar-drell politics, which you don't, so don't worry your head about it. Suffice to say, he and mom elected to leave Kahje and well, they weren't going to leave precious little Inonsi behind. I waved goodbye to Kahje from the private passenger cabin of a very pricey transport shuttle. I was ten and to my mind it was an exciting adventure. Besides, I'd gotten in trouble with Laon because I had been caught stealing yetae blossoms from the tree in the meditation garden, and my parents were in such a rush to get off world that she never had the opportunity to tattle on me.

How was I supposed to know you weren't allowed to pluck them straight from the tree? It's not like there were signs posted around the ancient tree that I willfully ignored from the moment I arrived at the training center to the moment I left it. The blossoms smelled so sweet. If they didn't want me taking them, maybe they shouldn't have smelled so good. Following the rules has never been my strong suit.

If my parents had known then exactly how often I was stealing they might have kept a better eye on me once we landed at our destination, because flowers from a tree didn't even really count as stealing, there were other things. Mostly Laon's things. I didn't even keep them, I would just sneak into her quarters or pick her pockets and take things. Datapads, credit chits, clothing, incense burners ... whatever I could get my little hands on. I threw almost all of it into the ocean. She never caught me stealing anything that mattered. Just those fucking flowers that she treated like holy relics.

Urchin? Sort of.

And then, middle, middle, middle. You don't want to hear about the quiet years on Teyolia, where father dearest conducted secretive business, and I definitely did not make a habit of listening in on his conversations or hacking his computer terminal and reading his encrypted emails. I most certainly didn't bug his office. Nope. Not Inonsi, she never ever would have done that.

Just kidding. Let's just say that perhaps nature versus nurture might lean more toward nature in my case. My poor, long-suffering mother.

I kept to myself at school mostly, I stuck out like ... well a bright orange and purple thumb in a sea of tall, blue and beautiful girls. I was easy to mock, short by asari standards (and also drell standards, but that's neither here nor there), and very, very different. It's okay though, the meanest of the girls, Paresya, found a lot of her school supplies missing. A lot of her girlfriends too, as we got older. What can I say? I have a certain mystique about me, it would be a shame not to leverage that to my advantage.

Oh please, don't give me that look. You're in this cell too. Don't tell me you've never done something juvenile and vindictive like stealing someone's girlfriend or boyfriend out of spite. I don't believe it.

When I was sixteen I grew dreadfully bored of school and of teenage asari superiority, so I started skipping classes frequently. It's incredible how long you can get away with that if you know how to hack into the school's attendance system and reprogram the VI that calls the parents when you're absent. All those phone calls went to some takeout joint in the next city over. By the time my parents were contacted by a real person, I'd missed approximately a quarter of that year's lessons.

You know, those asari do a very good job of making their colonies and cities look like marvelous, utopic jewels. If you stay on all the main thoroughfares, in all of the tourist centers, you might even find yourself believing it. But at sixteen, I found my way to the seedy underbelly of Iare, a moderately large city in the main colony of Teyolia. I found a group of kids, far more diverse than I'd ever been exposed to before. I was used to living first around drell and hanar exclusively, and then mostly asari. They were poor kids, a pair of turian siblings whose parents were day laborers, a salarian whose dad was sort of like mine, but unlike mine had recently had the rug pulled out from under him, and an asari who didn't talk about her family at all.

I pulled the same trick. They were fun kids, and I didn't want them to know that I got to go home at night to a nice apartment with flawed, but loving parents. Zelthatea, Zel to anyone who didn’t want to get socked in the face, didn’t talk about her family for much darker reasons, but I was sixteen, and using her method seemed like the best way to fit in.

We were tight, those kinds of bonds formed by committing small acts of theft and property damage together. The kinds formed through spending whole days together rough housing and running away from cops, shrieking with relieved laughter as we narrowly escaped capture. And then they found out I could do tricks. I could scale a building, leap from rooftop to rooftop, and I started teaching them how to do some of it. Soon enough, we had ourselves a little gang of roof running hooligans, we would do beer runs on convenience stores, and escape into alleys and up and away from prying eyes, that sort of thing.

We got too big for our ill-fitting pants, though. I wish I could tell you that I don’t remember whose idea it was to break into a corporate office and try to make off with company secrets, but if a drell ever tell you that, you know they’re lying. Only one of us had a dad who was in the corporate espionage business, so you do the math. There I was, in the CEO’s office with Zel, Apus and Catiae were our lookouts and were pretending to be janitors. Dex (the salarian, he didn’t like us using his real name) was our man on the outside, he was supposed to keep an eye out for security and police activity. He lost his nerve the first time he saw someone who looked like she might have been security and darted off without telling us!

“Shit, something’s up, get out of there!” Apus calls into the room right before tossing the trash cart over on its side and dashing down the hall towards the fire stairs. Catiae is hot on his heels. Her secondhand boots crash against the tile floor noisily as her footsteps pound heavy, sounding her escape. They don’t quite fit her yet. They were her mothers, one of the buckles hangs loose, it clinks mockingly as she ducks through the door.

Zel looks at me, panic in wide, ocean blue eyes. She is already crying, but she doesn’t want to leave me behind. She is always so sweet, usually quiet. Three emerald lines draw down over her pointed chin, the only facial markings she has. “Zel, hide! I’ll run a distraction. Don’t leave until it’s safe,” I say. Out of all of us, she doesn’t deserve to get caught committing a real crime.

I snatch the OSD I was using to transfer a clone of the CEO’s terminal on and beat feet out of the door. Four guards turn the corner, they wear heavy armor, deep blue, accented with gold. I wave my hand at them, making sure they see the OSD held in my fingers. “Genteux gives his regards!” I shout. Genteux doesn’t exist, or at least, I do not believe he does, I’ve never heard of anyone named Genteux. I run for the elevator and dart inside. I send it down to the first floor, climb out of the maintenance hatch and pry open the doors on the second. One, two, three, four running steps to the window. It is not the kind that opens. Shit, I panic. I pick up a chair and send it hurling through with a neon biotic burst.

No hesitation, I leap through, tuck and roll to the ground. It hurts, but I haven’t broken anything. I land right in the center of a congregation of Iare’s finest, guns raised and trained on me.

Everyone but Dex got caught. I did my best to take the fall for it. It was my big-brained idea after all. But well, my dad wasn’t exactly a paragon of upstanding citizenry, as I have alluded to already. Money floated into someone’s grasping hands, and I was let off with a slap on the wrist. Despite my desperate pleading, daddy dearest did not extend his kindness to the poor kids who got wrapped up in my ego.

Well, my days as an up-and-coming criminal mastermind were cut quite short at that point. Mom was furious, dad was embarrassed, and apparently lost a lot of business (judging by the angry phone calls I was still horning my way into) because I allegedly chose my target based on some conversations that were very private. Allegedly.

We picked up and moved again. I won’t tell you where to, dad still lives there, conducting his business.

They say there’s no honor among thieves, but I am daddy’s little girl. I never put his lifestyle in jeopardy again, and I will not do so now.

Mom eventually wised up to his shenanigans, by the way, and is living the high life in the tropics. Last I heard, she’s started seeing a nice young drell. Good for her. I believe you humans would call her a cougar. She seems happy, and that’s what matters.

Hey, settle! The guard’s just cranky because of the little surprise I left in one of the bathrooms. I mean, maybe some people think a flashbang rigged up so that the pin gets pulled when the door opens isn’t a good prank, but those people aren’t tormenting assholes like these guys. This guard’s a pussy, he’s just trying to rattle our cage a bit. Keep it together, will you? Losing your cool because the guy is threatening to pull our fingernails out one by one because he has a migraine and moderate to severe hearing loss now is a surefire way to miss our chance.

Now, where was I? Oh, don’t answer that, it’s hypothetical. I know exactly where I was.

Actually an Acrobat

I was kept under lock and key right up until my parents could no longer do so without it being considered false imprisonment or kidnapping. I mean, I still got out. Often. Civilian security is child’s play, and it’s frankly embarrassing that more people don’t know how to hack open a regular old apartment door and slip out into the night.

This story has to, of course, touch on tragic young love. All the great stories do. And mine is pretty good, if I do say so myself. And I do.

Upon gaining the freedom afforded by adulthood, I immediately tried my hand at the nightclub scene. I learned two things right away, club goers are easy pick-pocketing targets, and that the cocktail called the “Rough Tide” is the best alcoholic beverage to be crafted by clever asari mixologists. Its main components are lunassa, a very strong asari liquor, and juice from the olan fruit native to Kahje. There are other things mixed in it, but I’ve never bothered with the finer points of cocktail mixing. The sweetness of the fruit masks the surprising strength of the liquor, and when you stand up the tide sweeps you off your feet.

I’ve made some of my best bad decisions under the influence of a Rough Tide … or three … or four. My favorite best bad decision was Tertus Achaso, even when you account for the aforementioned tragedy. I was sitting at the bar, pleasantly drunk but not out of my mind on it, when a barefaced turian with a charming smile, chipped third tooth, and sharp, honey eyes slid onto the seat next to me. His first words to me were, “So do the colors go all the way down?” Very charming. Very smooth. It should have been very off-putting. But what can I say? I’m a sucker for a good smile.

“Buy me another drink, and maybe you’ll find out,” I answered. I was looking for a good time, and it seemed I had found it. What? Oh, the answer? I am all the colors of a desert sunset from my head to my toes. You should be so lucky to see me in my full glory.

Stop distracting me.

We talked for a while, and he did buy me a drink, another Rough Tide. He laughed when I told him that I couldn’t stand the taste of hard liquor. He laughed even harder when I admitted that I had (still have, thank you) a terrible sweet tooth. One thing led to the only place this was ever going – a cheap hotel room.

He smells of fresh cut lumber and canvas. There is a scar cut deep into the keel of his chest, long healed. Dark brown hide, patterned with sandy, rough plates. He’s surprisingly gentle for someone so large. Fingers tenderly trace down-

Ahem, sorry. That’s not the kind of memory that one should share, especially with a stranger. We’ll just gloss over that by me telling that he worked for a traveling circus, and I happen to be very flexible. I made an impression on him, and he made an impression on me.

So Inonsi runs off with the no-so-smooth talking turian to join the circus, right? I had stars in my eyes, like all young women do. Tertus could do no wrong, and I became enamored with both him and the idea that I could make a living of being an entertainer. I wowed audiences with suicidal feats of acrobatic grace, tight ropes, swinging on long swathes of cloth, leaping from heights that made most people sick. Finally, I was putting my training to use. No more petty thievery for me, and breaking and entering because I was bored, I was going straight.

Ha!

See the thing was that those kinds of circuses, the ones that are not owned by multibillion credit entertainment conglomerates, are filled to the brim with criminals and rejects of every stripe. Beautiful, gentle, and sweet Tertus was one of them. A criminal, I mean. He was probably a reject too, but he was my, admittedly very small, world so I didn’t see him that way. Some nights, he would step away from the other stagehands to go make phone calls. I’ve always been too curious for my own good. I listened in on those too, I am ashamed to say. I am capable of some shame, not much, but some.

Look, I didn't listen because I didn't trust him. I just like to know things. People are always having such interesting conversations, don't you think?

If only listening in on his conversations drove me to some sort of action. But it didn't. He had the kind of debts a lowlife criminal with a former drug addiction came upon. Tertus did more crimes to make creds so he could pay those debts, circus work does not pay well, and in the process, he pissed some very bad people off. This place wasn't like Omega, where you can't throw a rock without hitting some wannabe mob boss, so he thought he would be safe traveling with a planet-side circus.

It was the morning before our first show in a new city, I'd been with the circus and Tertus for several months at that point (eight months and four days according to the local calendar, to be exact). We actually had an auditorium to perform in that time, and I was excited do all of my tricks. There were poles to climb, flowing fabrics to spin around in, things to dive off of. It was going to be magnificent, and people were going to learn my name. And Tertus and I were going to live happily forever. And he was late to meet me at a diner for breakfast. That wasn't very unusual, circus folk run on a different sort of clock - the kind that's always late.

But after an hour of waiting, I decided to go looking for him. As I was crossing over a foot bridge heading back towards the hotel most of us were staying at, I heard boots slamming on concrete. Have you ever heard a sound that's innocuous, an everyday sound, but it's so wrong it sets your teeth on edge?

Sun is warm on my back. One, two, three, four rushing steps, panicked breathing. I look up and see Tertus running full speed toward me. He doesn't see me at first, too focused on watching his feet to make sure he doesn't trip. His eyes meet mine, halfway across the bridge, eyes wide with fear. "Go! Run!" he shouts as he grows nearer to me. But I can see what he cannot.

Three men carrying assault rifles are gaining on him. Two turians, one krogan.

I know something that Tertus doesn't. You can't outrun a bullet. The world slows to a crawl. Fear roots me to my spot until it is too late to do anything to save him. I have never heard a gun fired outside of a range or without protection for my ears before. Three, four, five muzzle flashes. Cobalt blood like rain splatters across the ground, Tertus falls forward as though he has been pushed.

My training spurs me to action. I’ve never actually taken a life before, but these men hurt my Tertus. I run towards them, using my very unimpressive biotic talent to generate a barrier. Dodge to the right, jump onto the railing of the bridge, leap from the rail, use the momentum to snap the neck of the turian closest to me. Maintain my momentum, stay in fluid motion. There's a gun in my hand and the second turian falls with the sound of automatic gunfire filling my ears. It's too fucking loud.

Something burns in my leg and my stomach, but I can’t stop moving. If the krogan gets his hands on me, I'll die. I leap onto his back, I nearly drop the assault rifle, it’s too big for me. I launch myself from his crest plate and fire down into his neck while I’m still in the air. It's sloppy, it's messy, it's too fucking loud. He’s still coming, and I just keep firing. It's over. I'm covered in blood, indigo, cadmium orange, and my own emerald. A cruel painting in brilliant organic color. I run to Tertus.

He's already dead. Honey eyes glassy. Jaw lax, mandibles hang limp next to his dear, sweet face. I scream, everything hits me all at once. The fear, the anger, the heartbreak. But I have no time, I hear more boots on the ground, and I am surrounded by bodies and covered in blood.

I don't hesitate. I leap into the river and follow the current to somewhere new.

Please, don't apologize. Everyone on this station has a tragic backstory. I bet you have one that's a real doozy. The river flows out to the sea, and so too I've learned that you have to keep living. You humans have a saying, "Go with the flow." It fits very nicely with my personal philosophy. Which is why I have to insist that you keep your pants on and stay calm, our time will come. If you try to take your chance too soon, it fucks things up. Swim with the current, not against it, friend. You'll just make yourself tired fighting the undertow, and then you'll sink to the bottom.

We wouldn't want that, now would we?

Star System Hopping Woman of Mystery Thief

If you have to ask how or why I ended up on Omega, I'd have to ask you if you've been listening at all. True, I don't live here full time. I'm sort of a star system hopping woman of mystery. But I do end up on Omega very often. You'd be surprised how many art sellers and antique collectors are just straight up criminals. Or maybe you wouldn't be. You are in the same basement holding cell as I am, after all. Or did you come here for something other than stealing priceless relics from a murderer?

Please don't tell me you came here to steal his weapons! How uninspired.

Anyways, of course I mourned Tertus. But I was scared, possibly wanted for the murder of three people, maybe four if you account for the possibility that it would have been very easy for the local police force to pin the whole disaster on me. I was naïve, but I wasn’t stupid. So I did what every young, unfortunate fool who gets tangled up in big time criminal activity and is too stubborn to ask dad for help does: I caught the first transport to Omega I could get. (I snuck aboard some mercenary gang’s smuggling vessel. I fit into crates quite nicely, don’t you know?)

Here's what I learned my first week on Omega:

No one gives a shit about you. They don’t care who you are, who you were, or what you did. Minding your own business is a matter of survival here.

The pickpockets here don’t even try to hide what they’re doing. They just run real fast when they get caught. I always catch them.

The bartenders here have never heard of a Rough Tide. At any of the bars and clubs.

There are a lot of assholes here who think they’re hiding the fact that they have goods that are worth something.

Hallex is a great time if taken in moderation and while dancing with bright lights and pretty girls.

Oh, don’t give me that look. Go back to lesson number one and mind your own fucking business. I was dealing with the traumatic death of my boyfriend, and the guilt of killing people. Besides, you learn to have a more relaxed view of party drugs when your own skin secretes a toxin that makes people see sounds and hear colors. I’m a walking party drug. What? No, you can’t try! What, am I supposed to let a stranger suck on my fingers or lick my face just because they’re curious? I don’t know you well enough for that. There’s a two drink minimum for that kind of talk.

Besides, you’ll need a clear head to get out of here. Or did you forget that we’re in a warlord’s torture cave?

It didn’t take very long for me to grow bored of partying my feelings away, and even less time for me to start planning a heist. Eh, less of a heist, and more like I broke into some rich pirate king’s hideout and stole anything I could carry that was worth something. I also hacked his terminals and wiped all of his accounts and infected everything with a computer in the building with a virus. His operations came to a screeching halt, and I gleefully lined my pockets with his ill-gotten gains.

Oh, you thought I was one of those do-gooder thieves who robs the rich to feed the poor or whatever? You’re too funny! I have rules against stealing from poor folk, and I don’t use street kids and beggars in any of my schemes like some others of my ilk. But I’m in this business for myself.

Breaking into low security hideouts and penthouse suites when no one was home lost its luster very quickly. I’ve always loved a challenge, and I’m prone to acting unwisely when I’m bored. I started traveling again, I’ve hit museums, government archives, art galleries, even corporate research facilities. Sometimes, someone pays me (I come pricey) to steal something for them, but mostly I hear about something I really want to touch (or fence, whatever,) and I go and take it. If my marks don’t want me to steal it, they should secure it better.

Oh, you’ll love this. Once, I received word that a relic of one Earth’s ancient royalty was going to be up for auction at some high society party in Paris, yes that Paris. Collectors have been shuffling around Marie Antoinette's pearl and diamond pendant for literal centuries. It was one of those “benefits” that the rich and famous throw that never actually benefits anyone but their own image. Stealing it was surprisingly easy. I stole it before the display case ever made it to the auction floor, but they didn’t even notice it was gone until they unveiled it to start the bidding. It was my first, and only, taste of champagne.

A waiter wearing a tuxedo hands me a fluted glass filled with golden, bubbling liquid. I taste it, and I’m very unimpressed. It’s very bitter for something that looks so tempting. A warm chuckle takes me by surprise, and I turn to see a handsome young man, dark curly hair, very dark skin and wide brown eyes, who is watching me. “Not a fan of the beverage offerings, I take it?” he asks jovially.

“No, I’m afraid not. The drinks on the homeworld are much sweeter,” I respond. There’s a slim-to-none chance that a random human on Earth would know anything about Kahje, and an exactly zero chance that he would know about Rakhana at all. I could tell him literally anything about my “homeworld” (one which I had not been to since I was ten, the other a place that was more cautionary tale and myth than homeworld), and he would have to believe me. I set the glass on a nearby table.

"Are you here for the auction? There aren't very many aliens here." He nods his head back toward to crowd starting to form on the bidding floor. He's right, there are a few asari here and one salarian, bright yellow skin with emerald speckles on his horns and the backs of his hands. I know my time is coming soon. The man smiles, teeth shining pearls, his left incisor is too high on his gum, giving it the appearance of an animal's fang. I like it. It's a shame I'll be leaving soon. I never learn his name.

"I am as a matter of fact, here on behalf of a hanar friend. He has an interest in antiques from other cultures, but sadly, could not make the trip himse-" My lie is cut off by first worried tittering up at the stage and the chaos and panic erupts as they open the secure vault container and find it empty.

The man looks around frantically, trying to piece together what is happening until his eyes fall on me again. More specifically, to the necklace hanging framed by the daring neckline of my suit jacket. A single tear-shaped pearl hanging beneath diamonds arranged in a ribbon’s bow, and above that one large round diamond, all hanging from a cheap silver chain I nicked from a department store jewelry counter earlier that day.

I press my finger to my lips and whisper, "Watch this." I take off running for the open balconies, pushing party goers out of my way, one, two, three strides before I am standing on the balcony rail, the small barrier to a long drop and a messy death. I rip the pendant free of the necklace and place it in a secured pocket sewn inside of my suit and step off the balcony.

With a twist my body I am hurtling towards the ground in a dive. A press of a small button on my bracelet as I spread my arms, my daring fashion choice turns from a strange, webbed cape sewn into the arms and body of my jacket, into semi-rigid wings. Soaring between skyscrapers is one of the most freeing experiences I have ever had.

It took a little doing, but I managed to sneak off Earth the next day. I still have the pendant. I wear it to parties sometimes. What do you mean, why do I wear it? It's jewelry, isn't it? I don't have an art gallery, friend. I don't typically keep things in glass cases. But don't get it twisted, even if you found out where I keep my things and occasionally live, you wouldn't be able to get in. That pearl stays mine.

Oh! That's our cue. That sound that just rocked the very foundation of this building is how I'm getting out of here. If you would be so kind as to press down on the bench over there with your boot while I - uh - change positions here to - uh - get better leverage with a good kick. There's a cotter pin in there I can use to break the lock.

Alright, on three be ready so you don't eat it when the bench collapses. One, two, three!

Beautiful! Now while the guards are all going to check out the giant hole in the wall- why did I plant bombs? Rule number one of thieving, always have a plan for if you get caught. I wouldn't have been caught if it weren't for some clown getting caught with their grabby little hands in Epirian's weapons cache just as I was heading to my original escape route. Funny that. But it’s no sweat off my back (mostly because I don’t sweat) but also because I always have a secondary escape plan.

Though they aren’t usually quite so … explosive.

But all is not lost. These idiots couldn't do a successful pat down on me even if I was naked as sin. There's an OSD in a hidden pocket with clones of all of Sitis' terminals and datapads.

What? Oh, you thought I was here for the art or his antiques? Ha! I guess I did allude to the art quite often. No. Dear old dad needed a hand. Family business, and all that. Do you know how many creds those corporate bigwigs at companies like say ... Armax Arsenal will pay to keep proof that they've been dealing super advanced weaponry to pirate king arms dealers an ugly little secret?

So much it would make your head spin. Let's say that good ol' Sitis deals with a few of these bigwigs. Papa dearest collects the blackmail money from those nasty weapons manufacturers, and dear, sweet Inonsi helps collapse Epirian's little criminal empire. For purely selfish reasons, of course. (Dear, sweet Inonsi also makes a fat stack of creds in the process.)

Now, stop interrupting. This is a Saronis Applications Securitron-X78 model haptic interface lock. A baby could open this with the right tools, but I do still need to focus. Just insert the pin into this little gap here, use it as a conduit for a little biotic pulse like such and bingo! We're almost home free, my friend.

If you’re going to stick with me to get out of here, you’ll need to do what I say, when I say it. We go with the flow, take our opportunities as they come to us, not a moment before, not a moment after. If we play our cards right, we’ll slip out unnoticed. And hey, if you impress me on our way out, maybe you’ll get the pleasure of being another one of my best bad decisions. What do you say?

#mass effect #fanfic #drell #ocs #daisy screaming into the void #i'm just having fun with this one

13 notes · View notes

george-weasleys-girl · 2 years

Text

North Star Series

Chapter 12 - The Letter

Warnings: cursing, child abandonment, feelings of inadequacy

Summary: Y/N receives some surprising news from her mother. Depressed Y/N, protective, sweet George.

Start Here:

Y/N's note told him where to find her. She was sitting by the Black Lake, poking at the dirt with a stick. He sat down beside her, his pulse quickening when he saw her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. 'Ok, who's ass am I kicking?' George wondered.

He pushed a strand of hair from her face. She scooted closer to him and handed him the letter.

"I'm such a fucking idiot," she uttered.

~•~

Earlier that morning at breakfast

Y/N sorted through the letters she'd received in the post that morning.

"Hey, look," Y/N showed George a postcard with a pyramid on it and the words, Chichen Itza. "Grandma's on another cruise."

"Didn't she just get back from one?" George chuckled.

"Yep, a Christmas cruise to the Bahamas." She smiled, continuing to read the postcard. "Says they went to the Yucatan and got to tour the Mayan ruins. Very cool."

After her granddad's death, her grandma continued to take care of their small apiary business for a few more years, before retiring to Key West with a couple of her widowed friends. Y/N said they were the real life Golden Girls. George had no idea what that meant, but it was apparently a good thing.

Several minutes later, while he was talking with Fred, he heard Y/N sigh. 'Oh dear.' He knew that sigh. "What is it, love?" He asked, turning back to her, his hand squeezing her thigh.

"Mother." She held up the envelope before shoving it in her backpack. "I'm not in the mood for her nonsense right now. I'll read it later.

~•~

"Damn," George said, folding up the letter.

"Yeah."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "You're not ok with this at all." It wasn't a question.

She shook her head, still poking at the dirt. "I convinced myself I didn't give a shit about my parents or what they did to me. Turns out I've been lying to myself the whole time. Because I do care. Way too much. And I hate it." Her hands shook as she pulled a photo from the envelope and handed it to George. "She could barely be bothered to spend five minutes with me. And now here she is, so fucking excited to be adopting her new husband's kids."

The photo was the epitome of the picture perfect family. Maybe a little too perfect. Gleaming smiles, hair perfectly coiffed, their clothes immaculate. He was about to mention it, when Y/N spoke again.

"I just can't help but wonder if my father is out there somewhere being the doting dad. Blissfully doing all the things he never wanted to do with me." She shoved the stick harder into the ground, breaking it in half.

"What's so great about them?" She gestured to the three kids in the picture. "And what was so wrong with me, that I mattered so little to them?" Y/N shoulders sagged as she curled into herself. "I guess I just wasn't enough of whatever they wanted."

George's grip on her tightened.

"No."

His commanding tone shocked Y/N out of her downward spiral. "No? I don't--what do you mean?"

"Fuck'em. Fuck both of them. That's what I mean. It's not your fault your idiot parents were too stupid to realize the treasure they had in you. You are enough, Y/N. Enough for yourself and enough for me. To hell with anyone else." He caressed her cheek, his voice softening. "So, no. You will not blame or belittle yourself. I won't allow it."

A bemused grin spread across her face. "I love your determination, Georgie, but do you really think you can silence that little voice inside my head?"

"Yeah, I do." He pulled her onto his lap. "Because I am the George Weasley and you are mine. I refuse let anyone make you feel like you're anything less than the Goddess you are, including yourself," he replied, a plan formulating in his mind.

'I don't know what I did to deserve this boy, but I'm glad I did it,' Y/N thought as she relaxed into his embrace, smiling in spite of herself.

~•~

*If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know*

~•~

Next Chapter:

#george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley

91 notes · View notes

jackdaw-kraai · 2 years

Text

So I've been told to post this here, and I hope y'all like it because shit was wild tonight. I had the weirdest fucking dream. Like, you know how sometimes movie get a shitty spin-off with a completely random topic? That happened. It was like being one of the human characters in Space Jam and things got just as wild as that statement implies.

First thing I can remember was wandering through the hallways some semi-industrial, semi-ancient manor building and hearing both loud music and raucous cheering. “What’s that?” I think to myself, because apparently dream-me is a whole lot more curious than I am, so I go to check it out. And fam, it’s the biggest fucking college party you’ve ever seen in your life and things are off the shits.

Somehow I find out that it’s the start-of-year party shared by two rival campuses, and there’s a semi-drunken basketball tournament going between the teams of the two schools. Then, somehow, through the pushing and pulling of the crowd, I end up in the middle of the basketball court. “Fucking wild” I think to myself and somehow don’t melt into the floor when everyone starts staring at me and I realize I stumbled in at the start of a break between the two teams. Instead I stare back, in my full 5’7/170cm glory, because my dreams cannot give my short king ass a break, and the players stare back, each the size of fucking giants as far as I'm concerned.

Now I want you to picture the scene. My dream cut me no slack, so I am exactly as I am irl most of the time, which means I’m dressed in blue-black slacks, floral pattern button up, quilted waistcoat, and just a whole lot of attitude packed into a pretty small body amongst giants dressed in full basketball attire. I Do Not Belong. But somehow, like drunk college students do, someone in the crowd starts yelling “Hey! You! Make a shot!” Which soon gets picked up by all the other drunk students and that’s when the heated debate begins.

Apparently, the team in red with white trimmings, the hawks, is all for it, but the team in white with red trimmings, the marvels, is against it. And tbh? I can’t blame them. I barely knew what the fuck was going on, even in dream, so I Get It. But it ended up escalating until suddenly a bet was made.

If I could make a shot, into a basket that was held up by one of the players, straight across the court, with a balled up tshirt, I would get put on the hawks team who would spend the season training me up in an effort to prove that they could make anyone into a competent basketball player. If I failed, I’d probably just be laughed out of the room along with the team because drunken college kids are stupid and don't think things through. Then both teams and the entire audience silently looked at me, and I don’t know what dream-me was thinking, but I distinctly remember going “hey, I did say I wanted to do more sporting. It’s cheaper than dance classes, I guess” and agreed. So I, a tiny man, promptly got hoisted up onto the shoulders of one of the hawks and taken across the court in order to make sure I didn’t make a run for it and got a fair shot, or something, while a marvels player hoisted up the basket.

I was given a balled up shirt to chuck, and the game began. Now, I don’t know what dream-me was doing, or if it was some sort of tactic, but every time I tried to throw my impov ball it promptly did that thing where it unravels in mid-air and kinda floats. Thankfully, I could catch it every time almost immediately so by drunken-student logic it didn’t count. But the marvels were starting to laugh at my incompetence and kinda heckle me, to which the hawks, and especially the player who’s shoulders I was riding, got kinda upset.

“Hey, man! She’s just trying her best!”

What.

“Oooh! Is the little girl trying her best? Is she trying?”

What.

So yeah. That’s the moment dream-me realized I was being misgendered. In dream. And I got so mad.

When the next time the marvels guy with the basket started doing a silly little mocking dance, I waited until the basket tipped forward, and, in a hulk-rage at being misgendered, I chucked the shirt like a star fucking baseball player.

And made the fucking shot.

Bullseye.

I have never in my life experienced the sheer satisfaction of silencing an entire room of people like that as dream-me did in that moment. And then, I shit thee not, the crowd went wild. Like, “blow the roof off the damn building” wild.

And this is when things get wild.

So the marvels were checking if the shirt now really was in the bin, the hawks were celebrating with me still on their shoulders like they’d just won the championships, and the crowd had fully lost it.

But remember how I said this was a tie-in?

Well.

While everyone was posting the video of me hulk-raging myself into a victory (even in dreams I can't escape the hell that is social media) and trying to add me to the campus group chat (ew) and the hawks trying to figure out how to tell the school what they’d done, I eventually got put back on the ground. So during the celebration, and while I was wandering around the party as now the guest of honor, I stumbled across one of the lady hawk players (my dreams apparently believe in integrated sports. Right on.) and she greeted me, white-girl wasted, with “hey little girl! Nice shot!”

And I, still being peeved about the misgendering, corrected her that she was, in fact, speaking to a gentleman. I remember seeing the gears turning in her drunken little head in dream and then witnessing a literal lightbulb moment as she realized something.

“Oh! So like—hic—you’rrre like… transgender?” “Yes, miss.” “Fucking rad. HEY! HEY GUYS!” “WHAT?” “GUESS WHAT?” “Oh no.” “WUNDERKIND LITTLE GIRL IS WUNDERKIND LITTLE GENTLEMAN!”

And I shit thee not, the raucous cheering I got at that announcement nearly knocked me flat. Apparently, it had been an honest mistake, because dream-me, just like real-me, also wasn’t on T yet.

But.

Do you know who wasn’t cheering?

Do you know who really wasn’t???

The fucking spirit of an insane campus-student-turned-serial-killer-turned-executed-vengeful-ghost haunting the buildings bell tower clock.

And now we’re at the wildest part!

Because this spirit, this guy, was the personification of every internet alt-right joker stan troll and ho-lee shit it showed.

So this guy manifests out of his clock, literally in a bout of lightning and colored fire, and starts cackling maniacally. And I remember squinting at him cackling there in the courtyard from the balcony, beckoning over my new basketball buddies, and going “Hey guys, I think we may have a problem.”

And these guys, drunk off their tits, dutifully stumble over, squint at the still-cackling spectral serial killer wreathed in what I presume to be hellfire, and literally have the following conversation.

“I don’t remember inviting him.” “Dude. Dude, I think he may be, like… crazy johnny?” “Ohhhh. Yeah, but like, returned from the grave?” “Yeeeaahh bro.” “Crazy johnny?” “Oh. Right—hic—newbie wouldn’t know.” “Right. So, like. Crazy johnny, right? Weird guy, liked hanging out with the bad people like, waaay too much, bro.” “I see.” “So like. When he came here, he was starting shit bro. Like, really starting shit. And with all the cool people bro.” “Yeah, remember when he called Fernando a faggot when he tried giving him a homemade quesadilla?” “It was bad, bro. You don’t—hic—you don’t turn down free quesa. Esp—espec— damnit.” “Especially.” “Thanks, bro. Yeah, that, when he made it with his boyfriend. That’s like. Mundo rude.” “And then he brought, like, a gun to school once? And started shooting while shouting craaaazy stuff. But like, mans got knocked out by a falling bell when he shot out the supports.” “*snort* Really rung his bell.” *drunk laughing* “And then he got, like, arrested? And the the popo went looking and found out he was, like, real crazy man. He hooked up with guys and then murdered them, man, instead of doing some loving.” “Wild shit, man. He got ex—exe—“ “Executed.” “Yeah, thanks bro. He got that for it.” “Well then. It seems we now have a problem, gentlemen.”

So yeah. This basketball flick suddenly had a spectral homophobic and transphobic serial killer involved who got summoned by me correcting misgendering. And believe it or not, how we got rid of him was even wilder.

So we now had a spectral serial killer called crazy johnny haunting the party, and he was after my ass. Thankfully, I was still angry, my new basketball buddies were still drunk and/or high off their rocker, and johnny was still crazy. So what ended up happening is that I would act as bait while one of the less drunk and high basketball buddies went to fetch the murder weapon. I wormed my way through the crowds of people who’d started gathering to watch this nutjob shout transphobic slurs in the courtyard while trying to find me, and eventually found myself on the ground floor in the courtyard.

“Hey! Asshole!” I shouted, more angry than brave and also high on the feeling of having new friends, “Looking for me!?”

And this guy, he lived up to his name guys, he shrieked like a banshee and tore off after me. Thankfully, dream-me wasn’t updated with a cane yet, and so could still sprint without issue, luring this guy further into an open section of the courtyard, in front of the gate. I stood there, facing down this lunatic, as he came flying at me and—

BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—

With the battle cry of a car horn pressed continuously, basketball buddy crashed the delivery van used for beer kegs into Crazy Johnny, pancaking the fucker instantly.

“Did I get ‘im?” not-that-drunk basketball buddy yells while rolling down the window. I go check, and lo’ and behold, this fucker is trying to resurrect himself and is already peeling his skull back up off the pavement while grinning wide at me.

“I am the think you cannot escape,” he cackles at me, body undulating oddly, “I am your fears and your nightmares and that which stalks you in the dark.” And I watch as this fucker grows scales and fangs and a cobra hood and yes, he’s turning into a snake. “I am the horror that will haunt you with the fact that you do not deserve to exist—"

“Give it another couple of reverses, Frank!” I yell at Frank-the-not-that-drunk-basketball-buddy.

Frank shoots me an okay sign, throws the truck in reverse, and then rolls back over now-a-snake Crazy Johnny. He does this a few dozen times, crunching resurrecting bones over and over again while Johnny tries to get a word in edgewise.

Eventually Frank’s masterful use of car-fu tires out even an undead-serial killer and he stops resurrecting for a moment but is evidently still alive, even if he is rather... gooey.

“Hit the brakes, Frank!” I yell, hands on my hips as I look at this mess that’s now in our courtyard. “It’s not gonna be enough!”

So there we are. Me, a few basketball players who are starting to sober up a but but still far from it, and a pasted serial killer groaning on the pavement in a mess of his own scales and many, many ribs. “What do we do now?” I muse.

“…We could try dissolving him in acid?” one of the buddies suggests. “Where would we get acid, bozo?” “Well, like, don’t stomachs have acid?” “…You can’t be—“ “Yoooooo! They do, bro!” “Right??? They totally do!” “Guys, this isn’t—“

“YO! WHO WANTS TO TRY GHOST BARBECUE!?” one of the buddies yells at the drunken crowd of college spectators watching this all unfold. And being a crowd of drunken college spectators, they naturally all want to try ghost barbecue.

So that’s how dream-me watches in complete bafflement as a barbecue is wheeled out of the building and someone else produces garnishes, toppings, and other stuff alongside the paper plates and solo cups. Because apparently you couldn’t just eat ghost au natural like some sort of barbarian.

So Mike, another of the basketball buddies, starts grilling up a still living Johnny while Tiger starts dressing up grilled slices of Johnny on slices of artisanal bread with pine nuts, jewel lettuce, and sashimi, because “you can’t just waste this shit, bro.” I remember those sandwiches very well because dream-me stared in baffled horror as people started to eat them despite this clearly being a Bad Idea.

Sure enough, within the next fifteen minutes everyone who had a meal of Johnny has puked him back up again and dream-me is facepalming. But the stomach acid did seem to be effective. So, with an exasperation I didn’t know I could feel in-dream, I asked “guys. Why don’t we get some hydrochloric from the labs?”

“Ohhhhh... Yeah, we could do that too.”

Which is how the entire college party gets even drunker because they needed a few of the kegs to dump both the acid and Johnny in and we watched that fucker dissolve into colored fire that provided the closing entertainment.

Now sipping on my own solo cup of probably-spiked-punch, I grin as the basketball buddies plop down next to me, watching the fireworks.

“Y’know, newbie?” Frank says. “You’re pretty cool.”

“Yeeaaaah…” the other basketball buddies chorus, still drunk off their tits while watching the fire.

“Thanks,” dream-me says, “I think so too.”

And that’s when I woke up to my sister blaring ed sheran in the living room at 9.30 AM with a volume that shook the floor boards. Thank you and good night.

#the basketball dream #jack rambles

195 notes · View notes

crsinclair · 1 year

Text

So I reblogged this post about vampires a few days ago (a week ago? some time ago idk) and it made me remember this book I read back in junior high and I've been thinking about it and it's been bugging me because I can't remember exactly what it was called and I have no idea if I'll ever find it again.

Every time I tell people about this book they call me crazy, but I swear to god it's real: It was a non-fictional encyclopedia about Vampires that I checked out of the school library. I remember finding it, thinking it'd be a cool read, and taking it home with me.

Absolutely wild shit in there, y'all.

There were a few different ways for making vampires but one I remember the most because it stuck with me the longest: If you walked over a dead man's grave that was one way to wake them up and turn them into vampires. I remember going to a funeral a few years after that and walking over a grave because apparently there's no organization to graves and people nowadays just don't care if you walk over them or the memorial stones?? and thinking to myself "well these people are gonna crawl out of their graves and start sucking up blood".

There was an entire chapter dedicated to recognizing Vampires on sight, and I distinctly remember a whole page talking about when you saw a vampire in daylight you would be able to tell just by looking at them because there would be this other-worldliness about them, this unnatural beauty and light to them that would be almost impossible to describe. And I recall that page specifically because a few days later there was a discussion in my friend group about how "unrealistic" it was that the Twilight Vampires sparkled in daylight, and all of my friends laughed - but I spoke up and I started quoting that book I had just read and that if one put it into the context of "they sparkle because it's like looking at someone with other-worldy beauty then yeah, it makes sense to me", and all of them looked at me funny like "what the hell are you smoking you psycho?"

Also no mention of garlic that I remember. Definitely mentioned stakes! Don't remember in what context, but the book definitely mentioned stakes. Also silver. But not garlic. Sorry people who think garlic keeps vampires away, but apparently it don't.

And that book was old. I mean that thing was falling apart. The pages were yellowed and thick, they weren't cut by some machine - all of the pages were rough on the edges. If I close my eyes and think back I can almost feel the texture of them in my hands. The cover was red, the corners were rough, the binding was bent and a little bit broken. The title was simple, there wasn't any imagery on the book.

It was an encyclopedia of vampires, and I found it in the non-fiction section of my school library. I held onto to it for a week, and it was through that book that I discovered that when you checked out non-fiction books from the school library, for each day you held onto one the library would fine you $2.

For a 14-year-old whose family was on food stamps at the time, $10 was a lot of money.

(I was very, very lucky the librarian liked me because ho boy. I did not have a way of getting $10 guys.)

Anyway, I've never been able to find that book again. Nowhere. Anytime I try to look up "Encyclopedia of Vampires", I just find some newer books about vampires in mythology or in film or they've been interpreted throughout the years. But I distinctly remember this book being about Vampires as if they were real things, that could and would attack you, and that might need to be hunted down. No idea why a book like that would be in a school library and hiding in the non-fiction section among all the books about science and history, but there we have it.

I wish I could read it again.

10 notes · View notes

crinkled-emotions · 1 year

Note

I love your fics so much!! They are the perfect combo of whump and angst. And honestly, in my opinion each one is 100 times better when paired with the other😂

So I was thinking..we all know Rooster would want Mav to stay with him if he got sick or hurt, but what about Mav wanting to stay with Roo. Like he actually HAS to be there all through the night or waves of guilt come back for all the times he wasn't there over the years. He's afraid to sleep and wants to be as close to Roo as possible, literally camping out next to him as he recovers. And when Rooster gets really bad, Mav moves onto the bed next to him just so he can make sure he can hear each breath and see that Rooster is in fact still there and alive. The Daggers find them like this one morning and just swoon at the cuteness, not realising the gravity of the situation. And then a resounding Oh Shit hits them when they find out what's going on and get SO upset seeing how vulnerable the two are🥺

Hey anon!! Thanks for your kind words! I've been having a bit of a shit week so I held on to this for a little longer. Hope that's okay!

After losing Rooster to his own actions (which were completely understandable when you know the whole story, by the way) it makes sense that when he gets really sick or hurt, Maverick probably wants to hang around, make sure Bradley's okay, but also to make sure he isn't going anywhere. As much as Rooster has lost those he's loved, so has Maverick and I think it would definitely show at times like this when they're both vulnerable.

Presenting... a fic with these feels. *glares at wip spreadsheet* yes I'm aware I have other shit to do. I would rather do this right now.

"Mav, I'm okay," Rooster whispered, voice hoarse and it was obvious it hurt to move. He winced, grimacing as he rolled on to his stomach.

"I know you're okay kid, but I really think I should keep an eye out. We don't want a repeat of ‘98, do we?" Maverick replied as he moved around the room, shutting blinds and starting the fan in the corner of the room. Bradley always slept hot as a kid and it was no different now, only made worse by the fever he was sporting.

"Mav, c'mon, I was sixteen."

He winced again, apparently stuck in a cramp.

"God, I wish I was sixteen again," he muttered. His head shot up, and he cleared his throat.

"Mav, I didn't mean-"

"-I know kiddo. C'mon, if you're so okay you can't lie like that. You know what sleeping on your stomach does to you."

Bradley made a noise of complaint but shifted on to his side after a minute.

"Mav?"

"Hm?"

"You're not going anywhere... right?"

"That's right, I already called us out. If you want to be alone, though-"

"-no! No, I don't- please don't leave."

Maverick's eyes softened, sighing as he closed Rooster's bedroom door.

"Okay, I'm right here. What do you feel right now?"

"Everything hurts," Rooster complained. It was a very rapid turnaround from his earlier insisting that he was okay.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you eject. It's lucky you didn't break something."

"I did," Rooster mumbled, "my pride. And my ass, remember?"

"Sorry Roo, I didn't want to assume it would be okay to talk about it. Butt, I'm glad you feel comfortable to share the pain."

"Mav," Rooster huffed, but his shoulders were shaking. He was laughing.

Maverick knelt by the bed, brushing a hand through Rooster's curls.

"Try to get some sleep."

Maverick stirred when he heard a whimper, frowning as he scrubbed at his eyes. Glancing at his phone he saw it was 11pm- Bradley would have only just gone to sleep any other day but the ejection had wiped him out. The whimper echoed in the silent room and Maverick got up, making his way to the side of Rooster’s bed. His face was pinched tight, in pain or fear, and he shifted uneasily in his dreams.

“Bradley,” Maverick started softly, frowning when he put his hand on his shoulder. Rooster’s hand shot out to whack Maverick away but he caught it just in time, pressing it to his chest.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s just a dream, kid.”

Rooster cried out, eyes finally finding Maverick’s in the dark.

“Are you with me?” Maverick asked him. Bradley sniffed, shaking his head. His eyes were completely unfocused, but he seemed to recognise who was standing by his bed.

“Mav? What are you doing here? Where’s mom?”

There it was.

“Uh... she- she had to step out for a minute, okay? I promised her I’d watch you. She was real worried about you.”

That much was true.

“Oh.”

Bradley winced, scrubbing at his eyes again.

“Mav?”

“Yeah, kid?”

He wasn’t a kid anymore, but the way his brown eyes looked up at Mav- he was fifteen again, watching his mom lose every sense of herself to her disease and there was nothing Maverick could have done. Sighing, Maverick took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“How about you close your eyes, huh? Go back to sleep, it’ll be okay when you wake up.”

“You’re still gonna be here, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Bradley.”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Fanboy who cracked the shits at breakfast the next morning.

“Okay, guys, we gotta go see if they’re okay. No one has heard anything, not even Rooster’s favourite over there.”

“Do you want to still have your dick attached?” Phoenix threatened in retaliation. Bob winced, sitting next to her. Fanboy raised his hands in surrender.

“Steady! Geez. Uh, so... where would he be if he’s not at the infirmary?”

“Mav’s,” Hangman said through a mouthful of bacon. When everyone stared at him he finished his bite and put his fork down.

“C’mon, guys, y’all saw Mav’s face when Roo’s plane went down and you know how Goose died. It all makes sense.”

“Has anyone asked Cyclone where Mav is?” Bob suggested. He’d scooted away from Phoenix slightly just in case.

“If we don’t know, there’s no way Cyclone will.”

“Yeah? Okay Hangman, who would Maverick call if he was taking today off?”

“Guys none of us are on today; let’s go check on them. The least we can do is bring by some milk.”

“Let’s go,” Coyote agreed with Payback, everyone abandoning their breakfast.

“Hey, Rooster? Are you here?”

Bob knocked on the front door, listening for any signs of life. Frowning when there was nothing he put his ear to the door.

“Scoot.”

Phoenix elbowed Bob, digging in the pot plant by the door for half a second before she produced a key.

“Really? Who else knew that was there?” Hangman huffed.

“Me,” everyone replied. Hangman scowled ever so slightly.

“C’mon, me and Bob will go upstairs. You guys do a sweep of the living area and the kitchen. Check the back porch too; I found Rooster asleep out there once and I think I scared the shit out of him.”

Phoenix took charge, taking Bob’s wrist and he dutifully followed his pilot. Hangman opened his mouth to make a comment but Coyote quickly whacked his arm.

“Forget it. C’mon, we can check the back deck.”

“Rooster? Hey, Br-”

Phoenix stopped dead in the doorway, Bob accidentally walking into her but righting himself at the last second.

“Look,” she whispered. Bob glanced up, eyes widening.

“Uh-?”

"Oh my god.”

They finally saw the extent of the ejection injuries on Rooster’s chest and shoulders, considering he was passed out against Maverick’s side. Maverick was sitting up in bed, eyes closed. It didn’t look comfortable.

“Should we move them?” Bob whispered. Phoenix frantically shook her head.

“No way, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bradley that peaceful.”

“I thought he broke his ass.”

“He did, and I’m sure he’ll regret the way he’s sleeping later, but for now...”

Phoenix sighed, glancing at the way her best friend instinctively searched for his father in his sleep.

“For now I think we should get everyone else out. Hangman would never let Rooster live this down.”

“I thought they were close in flight school?”

“Oh, that’s a story for another time.”

#top gun: Maverick #top gun maverick #tgm #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Callsign: Rooster #Pete Maverick Mitchell #Pete Mitchell #Maverick #hurt/comfort #a hint of whump #here's to Rooster's broken ass

11 notes · View notes

wastelandersjournal · 10 months

Text

September 6th 2007

Few nights ago I found out that

I happen to own an old, ragged copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles. On my journeys, I always stumble upon a trinket or piece of trash and think it will be useful to me in the future. Be it scrap of cloth or a wire, I lay my eyes on it and think, "fuck yeah I could use this for -------". I throw it into one of the boxes in my car and promptly forget about ever owning it. And so it happened, when I finally decided to clean out my trunk, I soon found out my habit would cause me a bit of trouble. I happened to stop in front of a so-called 'charity dump', a place where other wasteland travelers such as myself leave stuff they acquired on their travels. In the few months I lived here, I managed to grab all kinds of shit I then realised I have absolutely no use for.

I arrived in the early morning, just before sunrise. I slept though the whole day prior and felt unbelievably lazy and drained. Leaving the dreamworld was something I hated doing, even if I frequently had nightmares. For some reason the nightly terrors were more comforting than the heavy weight of reality. And some movement would do me good.

I wandered around the dump, looking though all the junk other people left. Amongst honorable mentions belongs a big folded pile of decorated jackets and band shirts, a statue of a frog who's colours have already faded, a big box of keys that somebody had stolen over the years, a weird ass plushie with a huge nose- I swear it reminded me of someone- and all kinds of plant seeds, separated in little glass jars and thrown into a big, torn up bag.

As tempting as it was, I took none of it, leaving it behind for another lost soul to find and take for themselves.

I returned to my car and spilled out all the contents of each box onto the ground, spreading it out by gently nudging it with my leg and sat down in front of the mess, determined to clean it once and for all.

I started in the early morning and by the afternoon I had two thoroughly rummaged through piles of junk. I did meet a couple of travelers who stopped by to grab some things they needed. They actually helped me quite a bit by rummaging through the "fuck this shit" pile and taking a good third of it with them.

By the time I finally put away the last box, the sun was just about to set. And there I found it, laying in the trunk. An old, withered book, caked in dust. I took it out to inspect it closer. To my surprise, it was readable. The print held up against the trial of time, and the end of it. Some of the pages were glued together. I, of course being the chronic cynic, immediately thought of the worst possible as I pulled the pages apart. Inside, pressed thin, was a flower. A forget-me-not. Its original colours were long gone, seeped into the pages of the book. Carefully, afraid of it crumbling in my hand, I peeled it off and put it into my own journal. Many more, glued together pages held more pressed plants of all kinds. Weeds, flowers, herbs.

I found a dahlia, valerians, marigolds, clovers and oh so many more I did not recognise.

I read it in one sitting, in the trunk of my car. I didn't sleep that night, captured by the two stories it told: the one of the authors, and the one of it‘s previous owners. They didn't like the book that much, or maybe had two different copies, otherwise they wouldn't let it get this stained.

It seems to me that they wanted to preserve the beauty of nature before it all ended. Might have been foresight, or it was a hobby, but they did a good job preserving those flowers.

As I now write this, the book lays next to me on my seat. I've read it six times since I found it in my trunk. The day is clear and sunny. Yet I can't help but shiver. I'm cold. I have felt this way for few days now, every day the feeling only getting more intense.

As I sit here, cold and shivering for no apparent reason, I finally realise.

It never belonged to me, I was foolish to think it did. I should give it back.

#journal pages #unreality #horror #wasteland #dreamcore

2 notes · View notes

marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years

Text

Talking About It

Summary: After spending the last few years ignoring the second half of her brother's town-famous duo, Connie is more than shocked to find him at her door - on a weekend noless.

This is a Steve Harrington x OC (but feel free to interprate yourself as OC)

Pre-S4 but Post-S3

Slight warning - mentions of nightmares/terrors

Might do a Part 2? What'dya think?

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

When Connie first found out the truth about what happened to the family cat, not much shocked her.

A mall explosion that was actually due to some upside-down creature? Nothing. A kid going missing and contacting his mother through a bunch of Christmas lights? Just another Monday.

But the one thing that did shock her was a knock on her front door on Saturday evening when she wasn't expecting anyone.

Dustin's friends knew he was away for a week visiting Suzie at an anual camp get-together. Their mom was also away for a week after she won a get-away cruise at work.

So Connie was left home alone and wasn't expecting a soul.

That was only a fraction of why she was shocked though.

Taking hold of the baseball bat, she slowly made her way over to the door.

She made sure no shadow was seen under the door as she looked through the peephole but when she did, she was more shocked at what she found.

Not a dead cat. Not a D&D named creature. Not even the Pizza guy - not that she had order a second pizza.

What she found was rather the fallen King of her high school who was now the babysitter or her brother and his friends when they went in search for danger.

"Harrington?" Connie whispered, confused, under her breath before she unlocked the door and he turned back around.

"Good, you're in."

"Yes, I'm in. Dustin's not home."

"Yeah, I know."

Connie knitted her brows together. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Well, as much as Mail is so much fun, I'd rather not have to read another five page letter from your brother only to get the same words in phone call an hour later."

"What?"

Relaxing his shoulders, Steve explained. "Dustin is worried about you. He asked me to keep an eye on you."

"An eye on me? Why?"

"Well, and I'm just spitballing here so correct me if I'm wrong-"

"Happily."

"You've been having nightmares and not sleeping. Now, I'm no shrink, but I do know movies so, while you're up, you might as well watch them."

"...okay? Still doesn't explain why you're here. Why you? Dustin could have called anyone else."

"Apparently, I'm the best option since I managed to keep those shits safe for, like, three years. So? You gonna leave me standing out here freezing or are you gonna let me in?"

Connie thought on it for a moment.

Even though Steve and Dustin seemed to be inseperable, herself and Steve had never really spoken much before. They hadn't even known one another in highschool. They were never in contact. But whenever he was in school, she didn't much like him. He was an asshole after all. But Dustin always vouched for him that he had changed. And he wasn't wrong. Steve had kept Dustin and his friends safe - well, as safe as he could get them.

"Fine."

"Thank you." Steve said, raising his arms up as he held a plastic bag in each, lowering his head a little.

Moving aside, she allowed him inside, which was when he spotted her weapon of choice.

"What? You gonna attack me or something?"

"Just wasn't expecting anyone s'all."

Steve gave her a look. "Okay...?"

Connie moved back, locking the door behind him whilst he escaped into the kitchen to grab a few bowls for the snacks he'd brought. Dustin's letters were very detailed.

"So, since I'm here, you wanna talk?"

"You're not my shrink."

"Hey, I'm doing this as a favour for Henderson. And I don't really want him chasing me with a baseball bat because I didn't help his sister. So, talk."

Sliding onto one of the kitchen counter seats whilst Steve unpacked the bags, Connie folded her hands together.

"There's nothing to talk about. I've been having nightmares. End of story."

"End of story? Really?"

"Really."

"Okay, so...cold sweats, vivid images and shaking shivers are just something Dustin made up?"

"Wha..How did you-"

"His letters are very detailed."

Connie rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"So?...Look, we could go round and round in circles or you could just talk to me. I can be a good listener."

Connie kept his eye contact for a short while before sighing and giving in. "Fine."

"It's nothing major. Just my memory reminding me of things."

"Of what things?"

"Will going missing. That..thing eating the cat. The mall, Billy-"

There was a brief moment of awkward silence. "Billy and I were never close. In fact, I was ready to beat the shit out of him almost as much as you did. Maybe more. But when I saw that thing go through him...it was like it was in slow motion, you know. And it's not like it's the first death I've witnessed. You know. After all, Hawkins is becoming famous for it. Land of the dead and what-not. But it was the first that felt...real. Even if everything around us doesn't seem like it is. It was just so...real." Connie's mind seemed to wander for a moment before she finally snapped back. "I-I don't know. It was just a lot to process. I was fine for a while after - no nightmares, no nothing. But then we had fireworks at Halloween and the lights and the sounds...I guess they just brought back memories. One's I thought had gone."

"I get it."

"You do?"

Steve nodded, the pair now walking into the living room. "Sure. I kinda felt the same after those fireworks. We've all had a fair share of night terrors."

"Have they ever felt real, though? As if you're living it again. That you don't know if you have the opportunity to wake back up?"

This stunned Steve into silence. They all suffered with nightmares every now and then. Who wouldn't? People seemed to die left, right and centre when it came to the holidays. But they knew they were nightmares.

"It started with Dustin. I'd be dreaming of when we were kids with mom and dad setting off fireworks. He was only a baby, but it was one of my best memories of us. But then...I'd be back in the mall. And rather than El, it would be Dustin." Connie explained. "I knew they were nightmares then, but after that...it was like being stuck in time. I couldn't move fast enough until finally I came sliding around the corner and grabbed Max before she could go and throw herself into danger and get herself killed."

Then after a few moments of silence: "It just impaled him."

Steve didn't really know what to say. What do you say to someone when they've told you that? What do you say when you can see it in their eyes that they're reliving the moment as they talk about it? How do you make the pain go away?

So, after a long silence, Steve finally held up the movie case.

"Grease?"

"Sure."

And everything seemed to go back to a comfortable slightly new normal.

"I wouldn't have took you as a musical's guy."

"I'm not. But Dustin sent me a list he and Suzie put together. I figured we'd work from the top."

Connie gave a small smile. The first she'd done in weeks - months, maybe.

"Sounds like a plan."

46 notes · View notes

pizzapasta23045 · 1 year

Note

SO VERY THRILLED YOU BROUGHT UP CREPUS BEC I HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT HIM

(Also minor correction he didn't Give Diluc his delusion, Diluc took it off his corpse bc he didn't know what it was and then spiraled down his like three year long revenge path trying to figure out it's origins)

The way I've structured it in my mind, Diluc's mother died in some like. Accident or something that scared Crepus because, yk, his aspirations had always been to get into the Knights and protect people but because he never got a Vision and was apparently not trained enough to pass the exam he was never able to? So he turned to the Fatui out of anxiety centered around keeping Diluc safe, took Kaeya in so Diluc would have a friend and company to watch his back, and then sort of pushed both Kaeya and Diluc into the Knights so he would be certain they would be able to defend themselves (while he made deals with the Fatui to try and keep them safe in the background) (Which obviously backfired)

The way Crepus died specifically was the Fatui using Ursa the Drake as a baited weapon (which I have separate theories about that I won't get into) to go after Crepus... which is interesting because it means that 1) It was pre-meditated 2) Crepus had to have done something for the Fatui to suddenly want him dead

SO. My theory is that because Diluc and Kaeya were older now, (Diluc yk, turning 18 the night that Crepus resigned himself to giving up his Delusion (as seen in the comic)), he decided that he didn't need the Fatui to give him a sense of security for the ragbros. They can properly defend themselves in ways he can't, and they don't need him watching their backs anymore.

The Fatui, obviously, didn't like that. Maybe Crepus knew too much, maybe they just didn't actually like him, but one way or another they killed him,,,

Which on a side note, makes me wonder if Kaeya knew something about Crepus' dealings with the Fatui. If he could sense the power the Delusion held, or if he, wanting to be aware of as much going on around him at all times, caught onto some things that Diluc missed (Fatui stamps on mail, Schneznayan diplomats saying things like "The Harbinger(s?) send their regards", listening in on snippets of meetings through Crepus' office door, etc). Because I think Kaeya wouldn't try to get in Crepus' way with the Fatui, I think he'd understand having secret dealings with alternate organizations, because that's basically what HE does, so he lets it be.

Which also makes me wonder if the reason we don't hear Kaeya's praise of Crepus is because he considers Crepus to be similar if not the same as him,,,

In the manga, I think, he says he was planning to give Diluc his delusion (or a different one but still a delusion) but didn't because he got a vision and didn't need it anymore. That's what I was referring to, obviously it didn't happen but he did consider it and stuff.

And yeah, I don't know, I feel like shit's more shady than we see in game currently, imo. Like, I don't know, I just have a feeling.

Mostly because of Diluc's overwhelming rage when Kaeya confessed whatever he did. Because his rage feels a little bit out of proportion, to be honest.

Like, what does he know about the socio-political shit in Khaenri'ah. He'd definitely still be upset but not physically maiming irreparably him kind of upset. But he would've been if Kaeya told him something more fundamental to Diluc's life,like something about the state of the world itself or a question of Crepus' innocence.

But yeah, they're definitely parallels of each other, Crepus and Kaeya. Both of them hiding secrets from family and being related to shady networks.

#sorry if this ain't very coherent #I'm at a party and deeply overwhelmed as we speak so yeah #textpost

4 notes · View notes

klaineownsmysoul · 2 years

Note

G/Lee practically limped to thr finish line at end of S6.. they had a reduced no. Of eps coz of decreased viewers.. they had nonsensical and absolutely ridiculous SLs.. Dalton burning?! Dedicated eps for a spoilt brat who non one liked, seriously who looked at that character and Said oh he's so inspiring!... Why are there rumours of reboot swirling is beyond me..

I believe the industry term you are looking for with regards to glee's ratings towards the end is "dumpster fire." Oddly enough, that term also covers the storylines and plots those of us who were left had the distinct displeasure of enduring. "Clusterfuck" would also be applicable here. Everyone I knew IRL - including my bff who turned me onto the show in season 1 - had long since abandoned it, which is why I was pretty sure it was just like me and 3 other people watching by the end.

Season 5 was dropped from the usual 22/23 episodes down to 20 and season 6 was limited to 13 eps and held until mid-season: that doesn't really inspire a lot of confidence in the direction of the show, does it? If show quality is any measure, it was pretty clear that RIB was done with glee by that point. They were completely checked out and just wanted to get this over and done with so they could move onto other things. Between them not caring, RM's love affair with his golden girl LM (more on her later), and his immature vendetta against the best thing he accidentally did - Klaine - there was very little to enjoy over those final 13 eps. When you focus so heavily on a main character who is as unlikable, selfish, and just downright horrible as Rachel, shit gets old real fast. I'm also pretty sure they had some kind of competition going in the writers' room to see who could come up with the worst storylines that allowed them to continually push Klaine to the backburner. Every week it was some new bs to focus on that wasn't their core couple: an out of left field sort of "romance" between Rachel and Sam that ended just as fast as it began but made sure to suck up plenty of story and song time while it lasted, that awfully stupid plot with the screechy 11 year old that made no sense at all but was the focus of an entire show, Kurt getting to do exciting things like holding Rachel's purse for her and continuing his lot in her life as second fiddle and ego booster, and let's not forget adding in a whole bunch of new kids no one asked for as the show moved back to a place (Lima) that no one wanted to see again, and of course the piece de resistance: the terrible horrible no good very bad thing with Blaine and DK.

Anyhoo...to your question about why rumors of a reboot are swirling around now? Its fairly simple I think: another stop on the LM Redemption Tour and a trip back in time for RM to his biggest hit. 2 birds, one stone. LM's career and image have taken a massive hit over the last couple of years and so why not go back to the role that made her a household name and work with one of the few people who not only tolerated her awful behavior but seemed to actually reward her for it with whatever she wanted, no matter how much the overall product suffered. RM could use a hit and so why not reboot his biggest and most lucrative one? The problem is that people are a little more hip to things now: consider the massive backlash he got when RM posted that little rumination about a reboot a while back on Insta. It was so bad he ended up deleting the post so you would think he'd have learned from that but apparently not. If he's involved and if the show goes forward with something resembling the idea posted in the blind - focusing on a Rachel-like character - that would be the easiest and quickest no I've ever uttered. No second thoughts necessary. No hemming, no hawing. Just No. No No No.

How would that be any different from the show we watched the first time around? I've had enough of Rachel to last me 3 lifetimes so there's no effing way I'd want to start a new show that I know going in will center around someone as insufferable as her.

No Klaine = no me. Its a simple equation. I don't think C would ever want to work with RIB again so no C = no Kurt so I'm out. You cannot recast them because no one else will have the chemistry that C and D shared as Klaine which is what made them special. We all know there are people out there capable of giving Klaine well written and meaningful stories to tell but those people do not include the ones who created them in the first place. The idea of someone else getting praised and cheered online for giving Klaine the kinds of moments they deserved would be such a massive hit to the oversized ego of RM that I don't see it happening.

I truly don't know who would watch this except for the Rachel and LM stans who think both are perfect angels. This is a bad idea that doesn't need to happen. Its nothing more than a pathetic attempt to relive old glory and the irony of it all is that the person wanting to go back is the one responsible for the original show's own downfall.

#lol glee #lol rachel berry #fuck you rib #just let this show lie as it is #not everything needs a second life #klaine #anonymous

17 notes · View notes

kangamommynow · 2 years

Text

Odd things about anxiety

I'm more anxious now than when James was alive. Is that because 1) his depression and anxiety meant I needed to keep mine held real tight so I could be his safe place 2) his death, and my dad's, and the whole trauma of Covid years have worn away my resilience. Possibly both.

Or maybe I'm fooling myself and I've always been this batshit anxious. Not always. Not as a kid or teenager. I don’t know when. I don’t know why. All I know is that I have a hyperactive adrenal system.

James’s anxiety always seemed to be about hypervigilance, being on guard for a threat. That’s not what mine looks like at all. Mine is intrapersonal and interpersonal.

I have come to understand, a little, that the physical manifestation of anxiety comes first for me. Hormones go into overdrive. Then my brain, being a brain and trying to make sense of things, goes “hmm, we are on alert. Let’s look around and see what might be the source of the problem”. My dumb ol brain latches onto whatever it finds and suddenly this is causing me anxiety. It could be work, it could be relationships, it could be that the kitchen isn’t clean. My brain, being a human brain, says to itself, “you’re a total loser and you ought to be doing so much better than this. Why can’t you get your shit together?” Or “Clearly he’s just not that into you, and why would he be? What have you got to offer anyway?” Or “well of course you’re anxious, the kitchen is a mess, and the laundry isn’t done, and you can’t manage to do anything”. You see?

Anxiety doesn’t remember that five minutes ago I felt fine. It doesn’t remember that I already accomplished fifteen tasks today. It doesn’t remember that I got snuggles and reassurance of affection not three minutes earlier. It doesn’t care that I’m a grown ass, intelligent, independent, thoughtful human. It doesn’t care that he smiles beautifully every time he makes me laugh. It doesn’t care, it doesn’t remember. All it knows is that there’s a surge of hormone in my system and it’s job is to keep me alive by figuring it out.

For the people who care for me, this means sometimes I freak out for very little apparent reason. It means sometimes I need extra help, or extra understanding, or extra forehead kisses.

For me, it means I have to work on finding the correct meds to control that extra hormone dose. It means I have to be careful. Be aware. Pause. Breathe. Hormone surge does not equal life crisis and it’s up to one part of my brain to tell the other part of my brain to chill the fuck out.

12 notes · View notes

natashasfilms · 2 years

Text

Chapter Fourteen - Skull Rock

Summary: Returning to Hawkins for spring break, Aria is finally glad to be back at home to see her mom and friends. However, she soon finds out that the danger they’ve all faced before, is back yet again. This time, she may or may not fall at the center of it.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Original Female Character

Warnings: This story contains mature themes such as sexual content, strong language, violence, mentions of alcohol and drugs, blood, gore, and death.

Note: I imagine Aria Kaul as South Asian but I have decided to let you, the reader, imagine her appearance, hence the reason why I have not given her a face claim. However, her race does not affect the story, whatsoever. You, as the reader, are free to imagine her however you want. If you don’t see her as South Asian, then that’s fine. It won’t affect the storyline.

Series Masterlist

“Not to be a wimp, but can I sit in the car?” Robin asked from the backseat, next to Max and Lucas. “'Cause this is gonna totally and royally suck.”

Aria’s eyes darted towards the rearview mirror. “It'll be fine.”

“I can't stand to see those dull eyes of Eddie's break again.” Robin said softly. “I really, really can't.”

“At least he can drink himself into feeling better.” Steve said from the trunk, voice muffled from the chips in his mouth.

“That's what my mom does.” Max sighed.

“Why don't we give it a trial?” Robin said. “‘Hey, Eddie. Uh, good news first this time. We got you some Dustin-approved junk food and that six-pack you requested. Oh yeah, and we found Vecna and apparently Aria saw you in one of her visions. Bad news is that he's in that other, darker, much scarier dimension, and the gate's closed, so we have no way of getting to him. He's entirely shut off to us, so basically you're screwed. And, no, I know you were already screwed, but now you're doubly, triply screwed.”

Aria and Nancy side-eyed each other from the front seats, rolling their eyes.

“Wait. Maybe we don't put it like that.” Lucas responded.

“How about, ‘We're one step closer to finding Vecna.’” Nancy suggested. “That's what we say. That's what's important.”

“I agree.” Arian said. “It’s better to just keep things short and simple instead of making things worse. After what I saw last night, let’s just hope he’s still where he is, at his hideout.”

“See, Robin? Positive spin can make all the difference.” Steve told Robin.

“Uh-huh.”

As they were getting closer to Eddie’s location, Aria widened her eyes once she took notice of the scene in front of her. “Oh shit.”

She parked the car close to the house, everyone carefully getting out. They walked up behind a van, their eyes falling onto the many officers and people.

“As many of you know, the Roane County line received a call a little after midnight…reporting a homicide here on the lake.” Officer Powell said. “Officer Callahan here and myself arrived first on the scene. We made our way to the shore of Lover's Lake, about ten yards from that house you see behind me. It was there that we found the victim, an 18-year-old senior from Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney.”

“I think that was him…” Aria whispered.

“We have also identified a person of interest.” Powell held up a photo. “Eddie Munson.”

Aria shook her head. “No, no, no, no, no…”

“Oh man.” Steve mumbled. “This is not good. Really not good.”

“You've got a lot of questions, and I'm going to answer as many as I can. Two o'clock at town hall, where anyone from the Hawkins community is welcome. But right now, I've got work to do, and I appreciate your understanding.”

Suddenly, Dustin’s walkie-talkie went off. “Dustin, can you hear me? Kaul?”

The group walked further away from the van so no one would be able to hear their conversation. “Eddie. Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“Nah, man. Pretty…Pretty goddamn far from okay.”

“Where is he?” Robin asked.

“Where are you?” Dustin asked Eddie.

“Skull Rock. Do you know it?”

“Uh, yeah. That's near Cornwallis and—“

“Garrett, yeah.” Steve cut him off. “I know where that is.” They all quickly ran off to Aria’s car, getting in and driving away to Skull Rock.

They walked through the woods, using Dustin’s compass to find Skull Rock. Dustin and Steve were in front of the group, leading the way. However, Aria was starting to become irritated with all the directions they were taking.

Aria was walking with Robin and Nancy, the three girls overhearing Max and Lucas’ conversation. “Oh my God, they're so adorable. I just wanna squeeze 'em, you know?” Robin stated, making Aria smile. “If I'm permitted to see a silver lining in this end-of-the-world doom and gloom, it would be the rekindling of old flames that never should've been snuffed out.” Aria furrowed her eyebrows, turning her head to look at Robin. “I didn't mean that as a hint or anything.”

“Right.” Aria nodded her head, narrowing her eyes.

“But if I did mean it as a hint, would that be so terrible? To wish for happiness for my friends?” Robin questioned, motioning between the two girls.

Nancy was bewildered at her comment, scoffing. “You think I'm not happy?”

Robin widened her eyes. “I…I'm sure you are.” She stuttered. “It's just, the other day, I mentioned Jonathan and you flinched or winced or something like…”

“I didn't flinch or wince.” Nancy said, getting defensive.

“Okay.” Robin nodded her head.

“Jonathan and I are fine.” Nancy exclaimed.

“Got it.”

“We're good.”

“Right.”

Aria pursed her lips, the thought of Jonathan causing her to become upset.

“It's just…” Nancy sighed. “He was supposed to be here for the break, and then he backed out at the last minute for some vague, mumbly Jonathan reason. And, to be honest, I'm not that surprised because I've been feeling him pulling away. And I don't know if it's because we're 2,000 miles away or if he met someone new or what. And now I can't find out why because apparently he's blown up his family's house phone or something. So, yeah, if… if the mention of his name caused a slight muscle spasm on my face, that's…probably why.” Nancy admitted.

Aria’s eyes softened, using a hand to rub her back. “Well, if it makes you feel better, Jonathan hasn’t written back to me in months.” She laughed. “It’s fine though, because someone else gained the best friend title now.” Nancy blushed, a smile creeping on her face once she heard Aria’s comment.

Robin grinned at the interaction. “Seems like a perfectly reasonable reason to flinch, wince, or something.”

Aria looked at Robin, feeling a sense of comfort with the girl after all these days. “You said, ‘the happiness of your friends.’” She motioned between the three of them. “So does that make us friends? As in, officially?”

“Uh, yeah. I…I mean, right?” Robin responded, beginning to smile.

“Right.” Nancy said. The girls continued to walk in a comfortable silence, feeling comfortable in each other’s presence for once.

They finally made it to Skull Rock, listening to Steve make fun of Dustin for being wrong while he was right. “Skull Rock. In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face.”

“Doesn't make sense.” Dustin said, looking at his compass.

“Yeah, yeah. Even with it staring you in the face, you can't admit it. Can't admit you're wrong, you butthead.”

Eddie jumped down onto the ground from the rock. “I concur. You, Dustin Henderson, are a…Total butthead.”

Dustin hugged Eddie, embracing the man he looked up to these last few months. Aria could sense a hint of jealousy from Steve, a little annoyed with the fact that Dustin has a new older best friend. “Jesus, we thought you were a goner.”

“Yeah, me too, man. Me too.” Eddie’s eyes glanced at the group, landing on Aria. “Kaul.”

Aria lifted an eyebrow. “Uh, hi?” She had never spoken to Eddie before besides on the walkie-talkie, this being their first interaction in real life so she was a little confused when he solely addressed her. Steve noticed the interaction and his jealousy became stronger, not being able to stand Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson.

Aria still had her walkman on so she temporarily paused the music to listen to Eddie. “When I got to the shore, I tried calling you guys, but, uh…My walkie was busted, man. Drenched. So, uh, I did the thing that I do now, apparently.” He chuckled. “I ran.”

“Do you know what time this was?” Nancy asked. “The attack?”

“Yeah, no, I…I know exactly what time it was.” He took off his watch. “My walkie wasn't the only thing that got soaked.” He threw the watch into Nancy’s hands, the girl catching it.

“9:27.” Nancy said.

“Same time our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin said. “And the same time Aria had her vision.”

“Which means what, exactly?” Steve asked.

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.” Aria answered. “My vision wasn’t just a coincidence. It happened at the exact moment.”

“But how come he showed you Patrick dying?” Max questioned. “It’s weird how you had the vision at the exact time Vecna attacked him.”

“Maybe he was trying to tell her something.” Dustin shrugged.

Aria nodded her head. “Like a, ‘It’s almost your time, so take a look at what’s going to happen to you’ type of something.” She said in a deep voice.

“Well, at least we're one step closer.” Robin added in. “We know how Vecna attacks.”

“And where he attacks from.” Lucas said, a hand on his hip.

“So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.” Max chimed in.

“If he has a heart.” Said Robin.

“A stake? Is he like a vamp? Is he a vampire?” Steve asked.

“It was a metaphor.” Max sighed.

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie asked the group.

“I say we chop his head off.” Lucas suggested.

“All of the above, but we can't do any of that 'til we find a way into the Upside Down.” Aria cut in.

“We need El to get her powers back.” Max said.

“Everything was way easier. We had this girl. She had superpowers.” Steve started to say.

“Superpowers. Yeah, you mentioned her.” Eddie added. His eyes fell on Dustin who was pacing back and forth. “Hey, uh, Henderson's not, uh, cursed, is he?”

“Cursed? No, no. He's fine.” Steve answered. “Mental? Absolutely.”

“Boom!” Dustin shouted, causing everyone to turn towards him. “Bada… bada… boom. I was right. Skull Rock was north.”

“Seriously? You're serious?” Steve exclaimed. Dustin hummed. “This is Skull Rock. Okay?” Dustin hummed once again, nodding his head. “You're totally, absolutely, one hundred percent wrong. Right now.”

“Yes.” Dustin responded. “And no.”

“Oh my God.” Steve sighed.

“This worked correctly when we left the Wheelers'.” Dustin explained. “It was correct when we got in the car on Curly. But it started to slip the further east we went. Now it's way off.” Aria furrowed her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest. “When I was leading us here, I wasn't wrong. The compass was.”

“So you're using faulty equipment. You're still wrong.” Steve told him.

“Except it isn't faulty.” Dustin defended his argument. “Lucas, remember what can affect a compass?”

“An electromagnetic field.” Lucas answered.

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry. I must've skipped that class.” Robin cut in, confused.

“In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power.” Dustin continued to explain. “So either there's some super big magnet around here, or…”

Aria’s eyes widened in realization, her lips turning into a grin. She snapped her fingers, pointing at the boy. “There's a gate!”

Dustin and Lucas nodded their heads, smiling, while the others looked at her bewildered. Aria noticed their stares and avoided their gazes, biting her lip.

“But we're nowhere near the lab.” Nancy spoke up.

“But what if, somehow, there's another gate? A gate that we don't know about. It'd have to be smaller. Way less powerful.” Dustin said.

“Snack-size gate.” Said Robin.

“How? Why?” Steve asked.

“No idea. All I know is that something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we've seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is because then we'd have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Max and Aria from this curse.” Dustin began to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked. “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.” Dustin stopped and turned around. “Eddie's still a wanted man. We can't just go hike in the woods.”

Dustin held up his compass. “This little steel capsule might be the key to saving Max, Aria, and Eddie.” He looked at Eddie. “What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Everyone’s eyes landed on the man. “I say you're asking me to follow you into Mordor, which, if I'm totally straight with you, I think is a really bad idea. But, uh, the Shire…The Shire is burning.” Dustin started to hop, beaming in happiness. Eddie stood up, finally making his decision. “So Mordor it is.”

Aria tilted her head and sighed, resuming the music on the walkman. The group followed Dustin but for some reason, Aria had a weird feeling. She couldn’t tell if it was good or bad but her intuition was trying to tell her something.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington series #angst #fluff #reticent series #steve harrington x aria kaul #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic

14 notes · View notes