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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

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The Cabin in the Woods

Eddie Munson x Reader 11,339 words

Warnings: natural disasters, death/dying (no character death), medical gore, medicinal drug use, use of Y/N but VERY minimal, no beta.

Synopsis: Something is very wrong in Hawkins and Eddie isn’t answering the phone. A story featuring heavy metal concerts, medical attention, mutual pining, and a cabin in the woods.

Author's Note: Follows canon except they do defeat Vecna – whose final act is the ‘earthquake.’ Set primarily in Hopper’s cabin. I used this website as a floorplan reference. We're pretending it's not as trashed as it is in the show.

Part One: Chrissy Cunningham was Dead

Chrissy Cunningham was dead. She was beautiful, with slightly crooked teeth and sparkly eyes. Her face was all over the news on Saturday morning. A small town golden girl was murdered overnight. Eddie wasn’t answering the phone.

The next day the news came straight from Hawkins again. Fred Benson wore glasses and worked on the high school’s newspaper. He was the sole survivor of a tragic car wreck only to die at the hands of, what the reporter called, a serial killer. Eddie wasn’t answering the phone.

On Monday you went to work and listened to people filter through gossip. The girl died at a trailer park. Some drug dealer’s house. Eddie wasn’t answering the phone.

On Tuesday your mother came home and said, “Did you hear? Turns out they found the boy on the road right near that trailer park.” Eddie wasn’t answering the phone.

He wasn’t answering the goddamn phone for four days straight and there were two dead kids from his town, maybe from his trailer park. Eddie was entirely M.I.A. while Fred Benson and Chrissy Cunningham were dead.

Part Two: In a Fairer World

In a fairer world, you would have grown up in the same shitty small town as Eddie Munson. Alas, you were banished to your own equally shitty and small Indianan town. It meant you didn’t have Eddie to keep you company during lunch periods or ask you to the school dance. It meant you remained lonely for most of your teen years. It meant that the only time you got to spend with Eddie was when your paths crossed at metal shows in Indianapolis or Chicago.

It was in the depths of a cold 1984 winter that you and Eddie first officially met. You had seen each other around, noting the presence of another teen that had snuck into the show or club, but you hadn’t ever spoken. Then, on a particularly bitter night, you and Eddie found yourselves in the same hiding spot.

You’d clocked the bouncers of the venue doing periodical laps inside, spot checking IDs. They only bothered when the air was stale and frozen like it was then. Annoyed, you swiped an open jar of maraschino cherries from behind the bar and ducked your way into a small storage room, no bigger than a broom closet.

It was dark but warm. You were pleasantly buzzed and snacking away when the door opened and another body jumped in, bumping into you with a yelp.

“Fuck! Sorry!” Eddie said but made no move to leave the cramped space. You listened to him feel around the door and wall, then the space was illuminated. He turned to look at you.

“Huh,” was all you said at the revelation of there being a light in the room.

“They’re checking IDs,”

“Yeah,” you replied. “That’s… why I’m in ‘ere,”

“Yeah… Um. You want me to go… or…?”

You shook your head no. “How old are you?” you asked.

“Seventeen. Just,” he answered honestly. “You?”

“Sixteen.”

You swapped names and hometowns, then when the coast was clear went your separate ways.

Between ’84 and ’85 you and Eddie danced around each other. Polite nods and manic grins when you slammed into each other in mosh pits. By March of ’85, you became friends. When there was a show, you’d call each other beforehand to plan the night. City meet ups before and 24/7 diner fries after. Something shifted by the end of ’85.

While you had graduated, Eddie was repeating again. He was still his usual self, but he had pulled away from you a little. It hurt, because you were desperate to see him. It was scary, finishing high school and tumbling into the adult world. You wanted the routine of Eddie and gigs. Also, somewhere along the line your feelings about Eddie had become different than platonic.

Between the hours of phone calls, the hand holding as you ran through crowds together, and the conversations had while sitting on the curb about all the things the future could hold, you fell in love.

You figured it was one sided. If Eddie loved you back, he would have kissed you. He would have said something, even by accident. He wouldn’t have pulled away at all.

By the spring of 1986 you hadn’t seen Eddie in a couple of months. In the rare phone call, he said he was trying his hardest to graduate. There was one class he had to get credits for, even a D would secure him the high school diploma that had alluded him. Like you always did, you offered to help with homework and edit essays and do anything for him, but like always he laughed the offer off, saying that the teachers would be able to tell his own scribblings from your intelligent words.

You hated when Eddie talked shit about himself. Luckily, it wasn’t too often; given his history and current status as his town’s resident freak, he did surprisingly well at the whole self-esteem thing. There were cracks in the facade though. Deep seated ideas about his worth. Self-deprecating jokes. It hurt to know things like that lived somewhere in him while he lived in a place determined to make his life shitty.

Despite knowing just how much Hawkins misunderstood Eddie, and despite hearing the rumours of a trailer park, you still couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Hiding from parents who were asking when you were going to move out, you had been flicking through television channels on the couch in the basement. The couch was musty, with wet patches that never seemed to dry. The T.V. set was old and staticky. Still, it was better than being upstairs.

You stopped on the news to watch a segment on the violence in the Gulf of Sidra between the U.S. and Libya. There were no American casualties. While you were wondering if there were Libyan deaths, the news anchor was shuffling his papers.

“And now to local news. Small town Indiana has been rocked by another in a series of violent murders. Patrick McKinney brings the body count to three, and with rumours of Satanism, Hawkins, population 13,400, is once again in the spotlight.”

The story played out. A reporter in the field stood outside the boundary lines of Forest Hills Trailer Park. “This is a town all too familiar with murder and mystery,” she said. A photograph of a teenage girl named Barbara. Another of the missing child Will Byers. A mall fire. More deaths. More misery.

Frozen in place, your skin broke out in goosebumps and your mouth went dry. Tears pricked at the edges of your eyes and butterflies scraped their razorblade wings across the lining of your stomach.

“And now, three more deaths can be added to the tally, but what has profoundly shaken this quiet town is the thought of a murderer in their midst.”

It cut to a teenager in a green varsity jacket with a microphone held out to him. “We always knew he would do something like this. Guy’s a total freak,” the teen said.

“And the rumour of Satanism?” asked the reporter, aiming the mic back at the teen.

“Oh, yeah. He listens to that devil music and he’s the leader of a cult. They’re called Hellfire.”

Before your brain had a chance to connect the dots for itself, Eddie’s photo was on the screen. The reporter’s voice was steady and sure as she said, “Edward ‘Eddie’ Munson is a twenty-year-old who attends Hawkins High. He is law enforcement’s prime suspect. The first victim was located inside his residence here at Forest Hills Trailer Park, and a witness claims to have seen Munson in the vicinity of the third victim at the time of their death. Munson lives with his uncle, who has declined an interview.”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you began to rock back and forth in an attempt to self-sooth. You didn’t register it, but you whimpered as you watched the closing of the news report.

“Are the people of Hawkins cursed? Has the occult been attracted to an already traumatised town? Or is this simply the work of a disturbed young man? Law enforcement is asking all residents of Hawkins and surrounding areas to remain vigilant. Do not approach any suspects. Call your local police department or Crime Stoppers with any information you may have. We will keep you updated on any developments.”

The screen cut back to the news anchor, who moved on to banter with the weatherman. It felt like all the air and sound in the basement had been sucked out in a vacuum. You couldn’t breathe. Your vision was blurry. You were going to puke.

Making it to your bedroom, you threw yourself into your small bathroom and curled up on the cool tiles. There were tears but you weren’t properly crying. Every tiny spark of energy in you was dedicated to figuring out what the absolute fuck you had just seen.

It wasn’t possible, you knew that. Eddie had been generous and sweet since you met him. He was respectful and got pissed when people didn’t observe metal gig etiquette. He pulled people out the mosh when they needed help. He’d bought you more bottles of water than you could count. Eddie was so deeply a lover, not a fighter.

So, no, there wasn’t even a split second where you thought he was guilty. It was simply instantaneous terror for where he was and what would happen once the pitchfork wielding townspeople or the trigger happy cops found him.

A knock on your bedroom door snapped you from your spiraling.

“What?” you yelled.

“What’s with all the door slamming?” your dad’s voice yelled back.

“Nothing. Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

There was a pause. “You okay?”

You sat up and breathed out. “Yeah. Sorry,”

“Alright…”

It wasn’t until you heard his boots walk down the hall that you got up and moved to the telephone next to your bed. Eddie’s number was still connected, but it rang and rang like it had for days. You tried it all night, but there was no answer.

Sleep came in short restless bursts. The following day you got sent home from work early for crying in the bathroom. You apologised and made up a story about a death in the family, earning you a week off.

After another sleepless night, nobody picking up the phone, and all the catastrophising your brain could do, you thought it couldn’t get any worse.

When you emerged late in the morning for breakfast, you found your parents in the living room watching a breaking news story.

“There’s only twenty-two confirmed casualties so far but it’s… it’s bad here, John,” the corresponded said. They were crossing from what appeared to be some sort of natural disaster.

“Are we sure it was an earthquake?” John from the studio asked.

“That’s what the authorities are saying. Seismologists say 7.4. The townsfolk though, they seem to be asking questions.”

“What happened?” you asked your parents.

“Earthquake hit… Did you feel anything?” your mum replied.

“What do you mean?”

“It was here. Indiana.”

Somehow, you knew.

“I didn’t feel anything… Are we even on bloody tectonic plates?” your dad said.

“That poor town,”

“Something going on there, let me tell you. I was talking to Bill at work. He’s got a cousin out that way. Says the whole place has been swarming with feds, even before this,”

“Because of the murders?” she asked.

“That and everything else.”

The back and forth between your parents was making your blood run cold, you shushed them and turned up the television.

“We’re hearing now that a suspect is in custody for the recent string of murders, but it seems like Hawkins has bigger problems,”

“Yeah, John, the people are banding together to help neighbours out. We’ve seen federal support mobilise quickly. But nobody has forgotten about Eddie Munson and the occult murders,”

“He’s in custody?”

“We can’t confirm if it’s him, but we’ve been assured a suspect has been taken in,”

“Right, and the earthquake - what can people at home do to help?”

A phone number appeared on screen with a call to donate funds to help Hawkins rebuild. The sound of your parents discussing an appropriate amount to give, then finding their credit cards, then calling the number, then being annoyed at joining a queue, became white noise.

Whatever was happening in your brain was all happening on a subconscious level. You were standing still, not a single thought in your mind. Just a shell, waiting for something to come from deeper within yourself to move you.

Suddenly, “I… have to go. I have to go.”

Flying down the hall and into your bedroom, you were throwing random articles of clothing and toiletries into a bag while your parents were still on hold. When you ripped back through the house, your mum noticed the frenzy and started to trail you. Kitchen, fridge, apple, a couple of cans of Dr Pepper. Cupboard, chips. Hallway, keys. You only stopped when your mum yelled your name.

“What?!”

“What are you doing?!”

“I… I have a friend. In Hawkins. I have to go,”

“No, no you don’t. They’ve said not to go. It’s too dangerous. There’s a number you can call to find friends and family,”

“You don’t understand. I have to go. I have to.”

The expression on your mother’s face was fear. Your dad appeared and his was all confusion. For a second you considered saying that the friend was Eddie, but logic reasoned a second later.

“I’m going,” you asserted, holding the keys in your hand tighter and taking a step backwards toward the door. “I’m sorry.” And you bolted out the front door and into your car.

In a fairer world, you would have grown up in the same shitty town as Eddie. In a fairer world, whatever was haunting Hawkins would have never existed. In a fairer world, Eddie would have loved you like you loved him. Alas, the world was unfair in far more ways than you could have even begun to imagine.

Part Two: The Drive to Hawkins

The drive to Hawkins was long and lonely. The route bypassed Indianapolis and looped around to continue to the other side of the state. Despite the authority’s warning, it seemed like hundreds of people were lined up to get into the small town. The roads were at a standstill and you spent the night behind the wheel.

You caught a few hours of sleep before being woken by the horns of the cars behind you. That process repeated itself until almost midday the next day. By the time you hit Hawkins’ welcome sign, you were close to peeing yourself and exhausted beyond belief.

Parked at a playground and barbeque area, went to the toilet, and made an attempt to wash your face and armpits. It was when you were reading a tourist information board that it dawned on you that you had no idea where to start. Looking around, you felt like you were at the epicenter of chaos.

Smoke was still billowing in the sky on the horizon. The sound of sirens was constantly audible. There were cars and people everywhere. If you focused on the noise, you could hear crying. The news was right – Hawkins was a cursed place.

“Okay, okay,” you said to yourself. “Okay.”

If Eddie had been arrested, it was unlikely he would be allowed visitors. At the very least though, you may get some information. If he hadn’t been arrested, if justice had prevailed in the so-called-land of the free, then you could try Forest Hills after.

Normally, going anywhere near a cop shop was a hard no, but for Eddie, you’d do it.

When you got to the closest station, you realised how hard the task in front of you was going to be. You had to park blocks away, walking through crowds of people looking for missing loved ones, and past tents of what you feared were body bags.

“Sorry, excuse me?” you said to someone official-looking woman holding a clipboard. They were trying to answer multiple people’s questions. You waited patiently until it became clear that manners couldn’t co-exist with an environment like that. “I’m looking for someone,”

“Everyone is, honey. Check the board for names. Black one has photos of bodies. Red one is for missing people. You see someone you recognise, bring the photo to me. If they’re already on the red board, nothing more you can do.”

There was a third possibility that you legitimately hadn’t thought of, one worse than being wrongfully arrested. What if Eddie had died in the earthquake?

You started to cry, but you were just one person in a sea of misery. Nobody stopped to see if you were okay. Nobody looked at you like you were being weird in public. You were just another grief-stricken person.

After powerwalking back to your car and throwing yourself into the backseat to curl up, you sobbed for what felt like hours. When you calmed down and poke your head up, only minutes had been spent. Fifteen at most.

You climbed over the centre console to sit back in the driver’s seat. You wound your window down and rummaged through your bag for some tissues. Wetting some with the last of your bottled water, you washed your face.

There were still people everywhere, and you could make out a conversation happening close.

“What do we do now?” a small voice asked.

You glanced at your side mirror and watched as a man and woman embraced.

“I don’t know… They said search parties are being organised over at the school…” the man replied.

“I just want to find her,”

“I know… I know. Me too… Let’s just… Just go there. Heard it’s been set up with food and water too. You need to eat something,”

“I’m not hungry… I just want to find her.” The woman began to cry.

It felt wrong to be listening to their conversation, but there was nowhere to go. You saw the couple begin to walk. The woman seemed frail and the man had a scarf tied around his leg. Even through the mirror’s reflection you could tell he was injured.

“Excuse me!” you called after them, sticking half your body out the window. “Do you need a ride?”

Maybe manners couldn’t function, but humanity certainly could.

The man nodded and did not hesitate as he pulled the woman along and got her into the back seat. He slid in next to her.

“Thank you,”

“Yeah. No worries… Um, where do you need to go?” you asked, playing dumb.

The man directed you to the school. You dropped them off at the front door before driving back down the block in search of somewhere to park. The drive had been silent save for the directions. Every part of you was crying out to ask if they knew Eddie. Did they know where he was? Was he okay?

As you approached the school on foot, you read the signs someone had made out of pieces of plywood and a can of spray paint. Search parties and missing people information were inside the main building. First aid and immediate supplies were inside the gymnasium. Not knowing what to do, you flipped a coin in your head, and walked in the gym.

It felt calmer inside. Cots were set up for the injured. It seemed this was triage for the not mortally wounded. Nobody was screaming in agony. Volunteers were handing out cups of water and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Across the space more volunteers were sorting donations of blankets, toys, and other items. The room was lined with pinboards covered in missing people posters. There were people in fluorescent vests giving orders and answering questions. It had only been about 36-ish hours since the earthquake, but already the operation to help was well underway.

You made your way around to where the donations were being collated and organised. A girl looked up as you approached the table. “Hi! What do you need?” she asked. “We’ve got pillows and blankets. Jackets too?”

“Oh, ah, no. I’m okay… I was actually looking for a friend.” You saw her face drop and her mouth open as if she was trying to work out how to redirect you. Before she could, you said, “Not like, a missing friend. I don’t think he’s missing. I just, um, can’t get a hold of him… So, I was maybe looking for someone that knows him? Like a friend?”

“Oh… Well, it is a small town. Everyone knows everyone. What’s their name?”

You hated that you hesitated. “Eddie… Munson.”

The girl was startled at even his name. There were people around who looked over at the mention of Eddie too.

“Don’t you know what he did?”

“He didn’t hurt anyone,”

“That’s not what everyone says,” she replied, the earlier kindness in her voice entirely gone.

“They’re wrong.”

The girl’s expression fell neutral and she stared at you.

“Do you know where he is? Was he arrested?”

It was clear she was deciding if she wanted to give you the information or not. “No,” she eventually offered. “Everyone reckons he did some freak witchcraft shit to get out of it. Cops say they have the real killer and everything.”

You bit your tongue. Starting a fight in an earthquake crisis centre was not a good look. “Okay, so he should be at home?”

The girl shrugged. Despite her intentions, she had been helpful. You left her without a word more and headed for the exit.

You didn’t get far before someone was yelling after you. At first you didn’t respond, thinking they were calling for someone else. “Hey! Ah, hey, miss?!” But then they said, “You know Eddie?”

Spinning, you took a step towards the guy. He was around your age and had a pretty face. He wore a clean blue sweater and seemed relatively put together considering everything happening around him.

“Is he okay? Do you know where he is?”

The guy looked you up and down conspicuously. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” you parroted immediately.

“Sorry… It’s just… There’s a lot of people looking for him… Not all, you know-” He shook his hands in a gesture that meant nothing to you. “Not all friendly,”

“Are you his friend? What’s your name,”

“Steve. I’m Steve… I guess, yeah… Yeah, I’d say we’re friends… New friends, but friends. Been through some… stuff together. Really bonds two guys. People! Two… People. Two separate people…”

“Steve? He’s never mentioned a Steve,”

“Yeah, ah, like I said – new friends,” Steve said tilting his head to the side. “You’re not from Hawkins, are you?”

You shook your head. “I see him in Indy. We go to shows together-”

“Oh! Yeah! No, he talked about you… Which, all things considered, it’s gotta mean something. Not a lot of casual conversation in the middle of all this,” he said, motioning to the surrounding chaos. Steve saw your sad eyes, the tiredness written all over your face. The pins on your jacket. The boots. He was sharper than people gave him credit for and was appropriately suspicious of things. There was a feeling though, a flutter of empathy. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes. Please. Is he okay? I need to see him.”

Steve folded his arms across his chest and nodded. “My shift here isn’t over, but I’ll call someone. They can take you to him,”

“Thank you. Yes. Thank you.” You jumped at Steve, holding him in a hug.

He was unprepared and slow to react. “Ah, yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. Just go sit over there somewhere.”

Saying nothing else, just nodding eagerly, you followed Steve’s instructions, walking down the sidewalk to sit near the school’s bike racks.

It took less than two minutes before the sounds of everything started to pin prick at your heart and lungs. Despair and desperation. You wished you had your headphones, a mixtape made by Eddie and sent through the mail to keep you company, but the batteries in your Walkman were long dead after the drive to Hawkins.

Part Three: “Are You Eddie’s Girlfriend?”

“Are you Eddie’s girlfriend?”

Dustin Henderson was exactly how Eddie described. You recognised the boy before he finished turning into the car park on his bike. Even under his Thinking Cap, his hair was trademark. He beamed at you as he came to a stop, asking the question like it wasn’t going to throw you into inner turmoil.

“Ah… We’re friends,”

“That’s what he says but…” He paused to wriggle his eyebrows.

You stood up and brushed grass off your pants. “Where is he?”

“You got a car? It’s too far to go with you on the handlebars.” Dustin smiled when you nodded. He got off his bike and took a long time trying to get it to fit in the back of your car.

As the kid directed you out of the heart of Hawkins, you were relieved that you didn’t have to think of things to say. Dustin had that covered. It started with a question, “So, earthquake, huh?” It was as if he was testing you.

“Yeah? I’m… uh, sorry? That how you hurt your leg? Is, is your house okay?” you replied.

“It wasn’t an earthquake…” He paused to gauge your reaction. You kept your eyes on the road and said nothing. “You know how people say Hawkins is cursed? They’re not entirely wrong.”

He told the story of three boys searching for their fourth. A story of monsters and heroes, love and hope.

“He was just with the wrong person at the wrong time,” Dustin told you, introducing Eddie into lore. “The first person that died, the one that started all this, was Chrissy. You probably saw her on the news. She went to Eddie’s to buy drugs and that’s when he got her.”

There was a foreignness in how Dustin said ‘buy drugs,’ and even with all he had been through, that alone was a reminder of the fact he was just a kid.

“He?”

“Vecna. The bad guy. He killed her and Eddie was there,”

“Right. And everyone thought he did it,”

“Yeah,” Dustin nodded. “Turn left up here. All of this, the ‘earthquake’ and everything, is Vecna.”

You took the left and slowed down, the road unpaved and winding into a wooded area. As Dustin continued to give you directions, adding more fantastical details about Hawkins and his friends, you began to worry more and more.

“Wait, wait. So, if Vecna is, like, dead or whatever… and Eddie has been cleared, why are we driving into the middle of a forest? Why’s Eddie hiding?”

For the first time in the conversation, Dustin seemed like he didn’t want to speak.

“Dustin?”

“Ah…”

“What’s wrong? What happened to him?”

“Can I just say that you’re handling all this very well,”

“Dustin!”

“I mean, it’s a lot,”

“Dustin. What happened to Eddie?”

Dustin sighed, looking out the window and spotting the end of the road up ahead. “He tried to be a hero.”

You glanced at the kid, then rolled to a stop.

“Maybe he should tell you this part,” Dustin said.

When you looked at each other, you could see the trauma Dustin hid behind a quick wit and years of living in flight or fight mode. He deserved a break; you nodded.

“Yeah, alright,”

“He’s pretty beat up. He’s gotta be in more pain than he’ll admit. Maybe… maybe you can help with that,”

“Should he be in a hospital?”

“Yeah, definitely. He made up some crap about how someone more in need deserved the bed.” Dustin frowned.

Cutting the engine, you got out of the car. The sound of Dustin pulling his bike out drew your attention.

“What now?”

“The path is pretty clear. Just follow it up,”

“You’re not coming?”

“Nah. If I’m gone long, Mom will freak out,”

“Can’t blame her… You sure you should ride that far? With your leg, I mean,”

“I’m fine. Stronger than I look, you know. We’ll bring supplies tomorrow morning. Everyone will wanna meet you too.”

Did Eddie really talk about you that much?

“Okay,”

“See ya, Y/N.”

Dustin rode off back the way you’d come. You stood watching until he was completely out of sight and sound. It was eerily quiet in the woods then.

The walk was only a few minutes. The path led to a small structure that didn’t look like a place for a hero at all.

As you climbed the steps to the cabin, you noted all the missing nails and rotten wood. At the door you held a hand up to knock, then hesitated.

Fuck.

You breathed in deeply then knocked, calling out, “Eddie?” in a weird sort of yell-whisper. The sound cut through the serenity of nature, making you cringe. With a shaking hand, you opened the door, pushing it inward, grateful it didn’t squeak with rust.

The place was small. Directly to your left was a bathroom and to your right a kitchenette. A small living room was ahead, with a door open wide on the opposite wall; you could see it was a bedroom, the bed made and most of the floor space taken up by boxes. The final door, adjacent to the kitchen, moved; you watched it open slowly.

From the darkness, Eddie emerged to lean his weight on the doorframe. His hair was tied in a messy bun, and he wore track pants and a long-sleeved flannel shirt that was at least three times too big for him. Part of his face was covered with bandages, and he had deep lines under his eyes that you’d never seen him with, not even when he was his most hungover.

“Y/N?” Eddie’s voice was croaky, his throat dry. He looked confused and dazed. You were the last person he expected to see.

You were across the room and reaching out for him before he could warn you. As soon as you grabbed him, he winced and made the same sound a puppy does when you accidentally step on his tail.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Sorry. Fuck. Are you okay? Sorry.”

Eddie tried to control the pain, but it kept hold, forcing a contorted expression to linger on his face. You stepped away from him.

“Eddie- I’m- Oh my god,” you breathed out. “What’s happening? What happened? Are you- Fuck.” You didn’t know where to start or what to say. Suddenly, your mouth was moving before you had a chance to censor or edit yourself. “I saw the news. I tried to call but when I couldn’t get a hold of you, I… I freaked out,”

“How-” Eddie tried to ask, but the pain was rolling down his spine.

“Dustin,” you replied. “Um, I was…” Totally and utterly terrified for Eddie. Unable to go on with life without knowing he was safe. No, not just knowing. Seeing him for yourself. “I went to the school, ‘cause it’s all set up as a crisis centre or whatever. I asked someone about you, and a guy named Steve heard. He called Dustin for me. He showed me the way here.”

Eddie managed a small nod. “He outside?”

“No. He had his bike when we met up. We had it in my car and he rode it home. Just us… Should you sit? Back to bed?” you asked, trying to look behind him into the room he’d come from.

Carefully, he turned around and retreated. You followed along behind him, turning the light on as you entered the room. Eddie stood over the bed, and before you could work out how to help, he just let himself fall onto the mattress. He hissed and clenched his teeth, screwing his eyes shut so tightly that it made you shudder.

The single bed was old, low to the ground. You knelt and gently took one of Eddie’s hands. Looking around the room, you began to understand the gravity of the situation.

On the bedside table was a mountain of different medications – antibiotics and painkillers and other things you didn’t recognise. There were bottles of water next to the bed, empty ones thrown about the room. Some evidence of food, but mostly unfinished packets of chips and cookies. Sitting on a table against the opposite wall was a box of medical supplies, and next to that a pile of bloody and gore covered bandages and tissues. The final piece of the puzzle was a bucket under the bed that you couldn’t see into but you guessed was for pee.

“Eddie… When did you last take anything for the pain?”

You thought about what Dustin had said. If Eddie was in more pain than he let on, he probably wasn’t taking a reasonable amount of painkillers.

His eyes fluttered open, and he slowly turned his head to face you. When he glanced at the bedside table, he pulled a face. “Dunno.”

You were confident that it was a significant time ago. “Okay, well, we’re taking some now,”

“M’fine,”

“No. No, you’re not. You’re the least fine I have ever seen anybody in my life. Eddie, whatever happened, this is… insanely fucked. Please, just take some of this and-” A shaky breath in. “And you can tell me what the hell is happening.”

You studied his face. The patch bandage on Eddie’s face wasn’t a clean white. You could see whatever wound was beneath it was still actively bleeding. He had dirt and grime around his hairline. His lips were chapped badly and now close to him, you could see knots in his hair were matted. Whatever happened forty-eight hours ago when the ‘earthquake’ happened, Eddie still wasn’t clean of it.

His big brown eyes met yours and he gave in, opening his mouth. You put two oxycodone tablets in his mouth. He swallowed them dry.

You sat with him, holding his hand for a little while longer. Eventually, when his breathing had settled into a healthier rhythm and it looked like he’d stopped clenching every muscle in his body, you said, “I’m going to, um, clean up a bit, then when those kick in I’m moving you to the couch out there, or the other bed. You need to get out of this room.”

Eddie made the smallest of nods, and you watched him close his eyes and zone out again.

Turning the light off and leaving the bedroom, you closed the door behind you and leaned your back against it, holding in a sob that was trying to claw its way out your chest. It hadn’t been the reunion you’d pictured. You had no idea what had happened to Eddie, or how hurt he was, but letting your mind try to fill in the blanks was a bad idea.

“Okay,” you said to yourself with a nod.

The cabin wasn’t as bad as you had initially thought. It was old and in need of updating and repairing, but it wasn’t leaking or covered in mould. Finding cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink, you wiped down surfaces and collected all the trash into a bag. It became clear that if Eddie was bedridden, other people were spending a lot of time there. The garbage, the blankets and pillows on the couches, and the dishes drying in a rack told you enough.

The sun was beginning to set as you cooked a vegetable stew. A lot of veggies were in their final days of edibleness, and that way you could put some in the freezer for easy meals later. Later? You caught yourself in the thought; how long did you think you were staying? Did Eddie even want you to be there at all?

You set a bowl of stew down on the old wooden chest that served as a coffee table in front of the couch.

“Eddie,” you called, going back into the bedroom. “I’m turning the light back on… Has the oxy kicked in?”

Eddie looked at you, more lucid than before. You could see his pupils were blown. He shrugged a little, trying to sit up.

“Okay. That’s better than no. Come on. Food’s ready.”

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure you were real. When you held your hands out to him, he took them and let you gently pull him up. He walked slowly, then sat on the couch at equal speed.

You moved the bowl from the table to his lap, checking it wasn’t hot to touch.

“You good?”

Eddie nodded as he looked at the stew, picking up the spoon.

The first thing you did in the bedroom was strip the bed. There was no washing machine in the cabin, so you balled all the linen up in another big garbage bag. Next went all the trash and the bucket under the bed. You swept the floor and wiped down the bedside table and the desk. All the medical supplies found new homes in the bathroom, and you went through the duffle bag of clothes to determine what needed washing and what could be folded neatly onto the desk.

The springtime air was crisp, but you opened the window anyway. With the room airing out, you closed the door to protect the rest of the cabin from the cold.

Eddie had eaten all the stew. It gave you an albeit small but no less real sense of peace. If he could eat, he’d be okay. As you took the bowl to fill again, you spoke.

“Dustin is exactly how you described him, by the way,”

“How was he?” Eddie asked.

“I mean, I don’t know him… but… he was weirdly… chipper? No boundaries? Inappropriate?”

“That’s him… He shouldn’t be riding his bike,”

“His leg?” you guessed.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah,”

“What happened?”

Eddie went quiet, took the second bowl of stew you handed him. He started to eat.

“He told me about everything. Well, not everything everything. Just everything before… Whatever happened to you… But about, um, Vecna? And the upside down. And Chrissy.”

Eddie’s eyes looked for anywhere that wasn’t where you were sat on the couch next to his.

When Eddie thought of you, he thought of heavy metal crowds and cheap beer and being the person he wanted to be. He thought of how you were escapism from the shitty life he had. How you thought he was cool and funny and good enough to be a friend. How you sounded over the phone late at night, all sleepy and cute. How you looked dressed for a gig. Eddie never wanted you to be in Hawkins. He never wanted you to see him in the context of his everyday life.

Of all the fucked up things that had happened over the past week, having that pure, beautiful, escapism taken away from him might be the worse.

“You don’t have to stay and… look after me or whatever,” Eddie said. Although there were some bitter tones in his voice, he mostly sounded sad.

He’d been in and out of consciousness for forty-eight hours. Things slipped from the dreaming into reality. Demobats in the corner of the bedroom. Lightning as the fridge opened. You, holding his hands and making him stew. But you were real, Eddie was only just fully becoming aware of it. He was confused by your presence, and ashamed of what you were seeing.

You were meant to know Eddie at his best and most beautiful. Not this. Not this broken and hollowed-out version.

“I know that… And, um, I know it’s kind of weird for me to just show up. Since we’re not like…”

Eddie looked up, afraid you were about to say that you weren’t friends at all. “It’s not weird.”

You smiled. “I’m just saying I know I don’t have to be here. I mean, we haven’t really talked heaps lately anyway.”

That was on Eddie. He didn’t know how to talk to someone he was falling in love with. Still didn’t.

“But I just… needed to know you were okay. And to tell you I know you’d never do the things the news said you did,” you continued.

He didn’t know what to say. “This is good,” he decided on, holding up the now-empty bowl.

“There’s more. You should let that settle though,”

“When did you get all…” He was going to say ‘parental’ or even ‘maternal’ but had enough cognitive energy to stop. “Uh, good at playing nurse.”

Last time Eddie had seen you, you were shotgunning a warm beer handed to you by the singer of a local metal band in Indi. She had pulled you on stage, impressed to see a girl handling herself amongst the big guys. You’d shotgunned the beer, sprayed half back over the crowd like a fountain, then jumped with reckless abandon onto the pit. It was a far cry from the stew-brewing, soft voiced girl he was looking at.

“If you wanna see nurse, I can do nurse. When did you last shower?”

At the hospital, they gave him a sponge bath where it was necessary. Before that, well, Lovers Lake probably didn’t count. And after… Eddie had barely set foot in that bathroom. Bare fucking minimum. He picked at his nails, trying not to focus on the black underneath them.

“Not meant to get the bandages wet,”

“Right… Well, speaking of the bandages. When were they last changed?”

Fuck, Eddie thought. He walked right into that one. “Nancy came yesterday,”

“Is Nancy an actual nurse?”

“No. She’s just, like, really smart. Like… really smart.”

You folded your arms across the chest. “Remember when you said you were fine after you accidentally headbutted the barrier at Sabbath? Then your nose started to bleed later? And it turned out you had a full on concussion?”

Eddie laughed at the memory, but as soon as his chest started to shake, the pain flooded his entire body. He hunched over, whining. He hadn’t laughed since the upside down. It was the most he’d demanded of his body, even if indirectly.

He was incoherent with pain. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t make sense of his surroundings. Eddie didn’t register you rushing over to him and falling to your knees, hands framing him but not touching him.

“Eddie? Fuck, Eddie. What can I-”

His entire perception was clouded by agony. The tears streamed down his face and hit the wooden floor.

There was nothing you could do but wait. Carefully, you rested your hands on his knees and listened to him do his best to breathe through it.

“I’m going to get more oxy,” you said, standing.

“No!” His voice sounded desperate; desperate enough that you knelt back down. “Shit’s too addictive. I don’t wanna-”

“I know,” you interrupted. “I know. But there’s a big fucking difference between your asshole dad, and you needing to be able to function.”

Eddie tried to sit up straighter, but it hurt too much.

“Come on Teddy Bear.”

It worked. Eddie looked up at you through narrow eyes. Even in immense pain, he couldn’t let it slide. You grinned at him.

“Seriously though. Dustin said you should still be in the hospital. So… If that’s a no, then you’re stuck with me.”

You looked at each other for a moment. There was something in both your gazes that scared the other. Quickly, you moved to go get more painkillers. Eddie took what you gave him.

“So, are we gonna talk about why you won’t shower? ‘Cause you’re the cleanest metalhead I know. This isn’t very you.”

That’s the problem with you being there, Eddie thought. You knew him too well. His freshmen buddies only knew him as their over-the-top DM, a contextual friend. Nancy, Steve, and Robin, well they didn’t know him at all. He let all of them make assumptions to hide the truth. Maybe if Gareth, Jeff, or Gene were there, they’d see through it, but he’d been able to trick the rest of them.

“I… I tried… Soon as they left, soon as I was alone. All I fuckin’ wanted was a hot shower. But…” He took a shaky breath in and out. “Couldn’t stand for more than a minute without feeling like I was gonna pass out. And the water burns. I don’t know if it’s some fucking upside down bullshit magic that makes it hurt worse, but it’s not… not normal… And that fucking mirror. Not saying I was, you know, Adonis, but ah… The scars are gonna be… Gnarly.”

Trust Eddie to reference Greek mythology in the midst of a literal nightmare.

There was one other obvious option. “A bath then? Shallow? So the… ah, cuts? Whatever. So they aren’t submerged. Then a strategically placed washcloth?” It was more query than statement.

The image in his mind had Eddie sitting in the rusty old bathtub. The water would be lukewarm. His muscles wouldn’t let him maneuver enough to properly clean. He’d hardly be able to stretch his arms up to wash his hair.

“Eddie…”

He looked over at you. “Uh… I…”

“I’ll help,” you said then.

“I don’t-”

“You do. If you could do it yourself you would have… We can be adults about this.”

Eddie didn’t want to be an adult about this. He didn’t want to have to make decisions beyond what song to learn on guitar and how best to torture Hellfire Club. He was sick of life or death choices. Although letting you bathe him like a baby wasn’t really life or death, it kinda felt like it.

“Fine,” he resigned, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“Besides…” You stood up. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

God, he missed levity. You beamed when he grinned and snorted.

“That was this is? Miss me that much?” he joked.

A messy summer night in the city. Too many beers. Not enough weed to chill the buzz. The plan was to sleep in the back of the van, but it felt like an oven. Item by item, you ripped your clothes off in the darkness. It was entirely innocent and definitely because of the alcohol. When you woke up, you’d been only in underwear and Eddie was entirely naked. You couldn’t look each other in the eyes for an hour after.

The cabin’s bathroom was clean. You let the water go through the pipes and drain away for a couple of minutes. “Good enough,” you muttered to yourself when the water was mostly clear. There was no bubble bath or luxe body wash. You caught yourself looking before you realised it was a stupid act. There was a stack of washcloths, a bar of soap, and a bottle of 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. It was all brand new, still sealed, and sitting on the edge of the bath.

You frothed the soap under the running water, trying to create some modesty bubbles or milky-toned water. With only a little luck, you went back into the lounge.

“Do you want to wait for the pills to kick in?”

“Nah. They will. Let’s just get this done before Harrington or anyone shows up.”

Eddie took your held out hands and walked with you to the bathroom. He quickly sat on the toilet, not out of breath but something like that.

“Shirt,” you ordered.

The flannel was easy to unbutton. You were dismayed to find he was wearing a very fucking destroyed Hellfire shirt underneath.

When Eddie made a small yelping sound during his attempt to lift his arms. You stopped him.

“I’m just gonna cut it off,”

“No! Didn’t let Wheeler. Not letting you. Do you know how much these cost to print?!”

You huffed. “Who’s Wheeler?”

“Nancy,”

“New rule. Every time me and Nancy agree on something, it means it’s the right thing to do. Besides, it’s all ripped up and there’s blood and whatever fucking else on that. It’s never gonna be wearable,” you argued.

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was fighting so hard for the Hellfire shirt. Maybe something about surviving in it. Maybe something about trying desperately to claw a little of the past back.

“Fine,” he agreed through gritted teeth.

It took a little work with dull scissors, but you got there. Whatever you were expecting Eddie’s injuries to be, it wasn’t that. You were too slow to stop the gasp that escaped from you; Eddie looked up frowning.

“I’m sorry, I just… What the fuck happened?”

Like the patch on his face, the ones scattered across his torso were bleeding through. You sat on the edge of the bath and turned the water off, the bathroom suddenly quiet. Eddie said nothing. You nodded, accepting the silence.

“How’s the pain?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “‘Cause I think it’s gonna hurt like a bitch to get these off. They look kinda melted to you,”

“Thanks,”

“Sorry! Fuck. Sorry. I just…”

“It’s fine,” Eddie said. “It’s bad. I know it’s bad. It’s whatever… Can you just… Don’t look at me like that?”

You knew what he meant. Eddie hated pity. He hated when people pitied him for his dead mother and shitty father. For living in a one bedroom trailer with his uncle. For repeating high school. For all the things that made the average folk feel awkward. Eddie fucking despised pity.

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean… I don’t feel bad for you at all. Like, Dustin said you tried to be a hero or something? Do some classic Edward Munson Dumb Shit and end up like this, yeah?”

Eddie smiled. “Something like that,”

“Exactly. See? No pity here. Toughen up, kid.”

God, he loved you.

The first bandage – the one across Eddie’s cheek and jaw – came off surprisingly well. You held your expression steady as you worked, absorbing the excess blood and fluid with cotton balls.

The second bandage was covering a neck wound. Your stomach flipped, sick with the thought that it could have killed him. A little deeper and Eddie would have died.

The third wound was collarbone based and the bandage was a lot harder to move. Eddie’s jaw clenched impossibly tight and he was holding his breath.

You remembered when he took you to get your first tattoo. “It helps if you have something to distract you. Music or talking to someone, you know?” Eddie had said.

“Are these… bites?” You’d been almost too afraid to ask, but your brain couldn’t come up with any alternative conversation topics.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied weakly.

Some of the bites were smaller, but most weren’t. Eddie’s chest was more broken skin than not. His left pec was destroyed, and all down his sides were eaten into. Across his stomach bloomed another wound. Even his arms and hands had not escaped the assault.

“Dustin said the plan was to distract the… bats?”

“Demobats,”

“Demobats,” you repeated, the word feeling alien on your tongue. “What went wrong?”

For a couple of seconds, you thought Eddie was going to stay silent, not answering the question. It would have been more than fair. But, he started to speak in a shaky voice.

“We… did… it… Did what we were meant to do, you know? The demobats were away from Creel House. We were on our way out of there. There were… just so many of them. Too many to distract. I went to climb… climb the rope… but…”

Even with a lot of the story filled in by Dustin, you didn’t quite understand the picture Eddie was painting. You had to assume a lot; the rope must have led out of danger? Out of the upside down? Creel House was where Vecna was? You didn’t stop Eddie to ask clarifying questions.

“I just kept seeing Chrissy. In my head. Nobody deserves what happened to her, but she… She came to me for help and I… I kept seeing her and I kept thinking that this was our one shot at killing Vecna. And what if my part was the part that fucked the plan… What if I could actually do more? So, I didn’t climb the rope.”

Eddie thought for a moment, deep in reflection. Had it been worth it?

“I… I went back out there. Figured I could distract them, the bats, some more. Kill some. And I did. Not enough… There was…” Eddie sharply took a gulp of air in. “There were more than before. They were everywhere. I couldn’t see anything, then I… I don’t know.”

He did know. Even running on adrenaline, he could feel each bite. Eddie had locked onto the memory now. It was so vivid in his mind still.

“All the things from there, from the upside down, they’ve got these teeth. Like, hundreds of them. Their faces aren’t faces, they’re just big mouths and the, the lips, or whatever, they open up in every direction, and there are just rows and rows of fucking teeth. Like… a black hole of teeth,”

“Like a lamprey?”

After one fishing trip, Wayne had come home and told Eddie about the ‘vampire tube’ fish – the lamprey. Eddie was obsessed with them for a while after that, finding a book in the school library with a photo, then telling you about them on the phone. Your own public library had the same book, and you could see why a weird little dude like Eddie was so into them.

Eddie looked at you. “Shit… Yeah… Fuck… That but like, a bat…”

“There were dog ones before, right? Dustin said a few years ago there were dog ones,”

“Apparently… and then the human one.”

You tried to imagine a human figure with no face, just flaps of flesh opening to reveal endless teeth. The imagination is powerful, but even yours couldn’t really conjure a picture. Maybe your brain was just trying to protect you from the pure nightmare fuel that description could produce.

“Then they got you?” you asked.

“They got me. But, ah, as they did, they all just fucking dropped from the sky. And it was so quiet until Henderson showed up. I told the little shit to stay where it was safe. But he was there… Did my whole goodbye speech to him, you know? I could… I could feel the blood pooling in all the wrong places. My lungs were swimming in it. I was coughing it up. No way was I gonna live.”

Eddie’s face was as animated as it always was. You weren’t used to it animating terror and agony though. This wasn’t the kind of story Eddie normally told you. Your eyes had welled up with tears and you’d stopped working on removing his bandages.

Eddie’s gaze was fixed on a spot on the bathroom floor. He stared as he spoke. “The others were still setting fire to Vecna. Dustin tried to get there, but he’d messed his leg up pretty good. They found him halfway there, carried him back. Dragged me back. Got me to a hospital,”

“Jesus, Eddie. Why aren’t you still there? It’s been what, a night? Two if you count that night?”

He nodded. “I woke up the next day. They’d given me blood and stitched up the worst of the bites.”

Everyone had tried to keep Eddie in the hospital, but he was refusing a lot of medical care. He hated the accusatory stares and whispers. He couldn’t stand the noise.

There was no point in asking why he wouldn’t stay there. No point in suggesting he went back. Eddie had looked up and seen both those thoughts cross your face.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just needed a little blood,”

“Aren’t there like, long-term effects? What about the blood in your lungs? And, like, did you actually die? What if you have brain damage?”

“Not like I was a genius with a 4.0,”

“Eddie,”

“Y/N.” It was quick. Snappy. Your name in a warning tone.

The remainder of the bandages came off, and you mopped up the carnage as best you could. When you were done, Eddie stood, empowered by the painkillers enough to take his own pants off. He stepped into the bath and lowered himself in. It was all somehow both benignly clinical and breathtakingly intimate.

The water came up to his waist, lapping at the lowest of the wounds. You waited until the waves had settled before speaking again.

“I’m gonna wash your hair first,” you told him. He nodded, seeming smaller in the bath. Childlike helplessness.

You left the bathroom briefly to look for tools. There wasn’t a single brush or comb to be found. Returning with only the largest cup you could find, you settled next to the tub.

Lathering Eddie’s hair with the 2-in-1, you tilted his head backwards and rinsed with the help of the cup. As the water ran down his back, Eddie shivered. You repeated the process two more times, the conversation pausing entirely.

When his wild mane is clean, you raked your fingers through it bit by bit, gently pulling knots out. It’s a somewhat successful method, although you’d have to go for rounds two and three when his hair was dry.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed. Eddie complied. “Keep them closed.”

A washcloth was soaked in slick soap and you covered Eddie’s face in the goo. With great delicateness, you cleaned his hair, face, ears, and neck. The soap didn’t burn the bites like you’d both expected, but the coarse washcloth wasn’t exactly pleasant either.

As you descended Eddie’s body, dirt and muck washing down and turning the bath water a hazy brown, you cleaned the wounds. They started to bleed again, not heavily, but enough that by the time you were at his waist, you needed to pull the plug out and re-fill the bath with clean water.

Eddie was acquiescent. The drugs had well and truly kicked in, building on the mild buzz of the first you’d made him take. Even with the washcloth pain, the experience wasn’t as horrific as it could have been, he decided.

When he was finally clean, you sat on the ground next to the tub. The water had a pink hue from the blood, but he’d stopped bleeding.

“You look like you now,”

“Who’d I look like before?” Eddie replied.

“I don’t know. You from a different dimension. A really, really fucking bad one,”

“Guess I kind of am now.”

You said nothing to that. Maybe he was. Maybe you wouldn’t know this Eddie like you knew yours.

Eddie looked down at his chest, then his legs beneath the water. They ached, despite being unharmed by the demobats. He thought about Dustin and his leg. How he jumped through the gate with such disregard for himself, to try to stop Eddie. Save Eddie. Dustin fucking Henderson, man. Suddenly, a new thought-

“What you said about Dustin. Inappropriate or whatever. Did he say something?”

“He said a lot,” you replied.

“But, ah, what exactly was it that-”

A small laugh escaped you, and Eddie’s sentence stopped dead in its tracks. He looked at you.

“You seem nervous,” you teased. “The kid know one too many secrets or something?” Eddie’s face was expressionless but you could see his mind working overtime to think of something to say. You put him out of his misery with, “He didn’t say anything. He asked something. Like, straight away. Before a ‘hello’ even,”

“Am I gonna have to give him the world’s worst wedgie?”

“I guess it depends on how embarrassed by the question you are.”

Eddie broke eye contact, looked back down at his body. The entire situation was radically out of his control. Might as well add more spice. “What’d he ask?”

“Kid rolls up. Toothy grin. Busted leg. Happy as fucking Larry. First thing out of his mouth – ‘Are you Eddie’s girlfriend?’”

Part Four: The Cabin in the Woods

The cabin in the woods held warmth better than you would have guessed. After letting the bathwater drain yet again, you left Eddie to sit in hot clean water for the third time, then started the fire in the corner of the living room.

“Whose cabin is this?” you called out.

The bathroom had no door, just a curtain to pull across the open frame. Eddie could hear you just fine.

“Hopper’s,”

“That’s… the Chief of Police, right? The one everyone thought was dead? But was in Russia or something?”

“Dustin really gave you the whole story, huh?”

“Kind of. Don’t know how or why he was there… But isn’t he meant to be dead? Nobody’s meant to know about him?”

It was the first time Eddie realised that you might now be in danger. Although not being privy to the truth about Hawkins wasn’t necessarily a guarantee of safety, being included in its secrets definitely bumped up the ‘likely to die a horrible death’ stats. At the very least, you’d be on someone’s watch list now.

“Yeah. He was gonna stay here, but too many people know about it.”

Made sense, you thought. “So, why are you here? The cops aren’t after you anymore. Don’t you want to be with your uncle? Or your friends?”

The small fire was burning bright and the flames licked around the chunk of wood. You stood up, satisfied with your work.

Eddie hadn’t answered, so you walked back to him.

“Think I should get out now,” he said when you appeared. “S’cold,”

“Yeah. Okay. Here.”

Like he had before, Eddie winced as he moved. He stood and helped you wrap a towel around his waist. You draped another over his head. With his fingers threaded through yours, you guided him out of the bath and back onto the couch.

“I’ll do the bandages before you get dressed,” you told him, going to retrieve what you needed.

Before you sat back down, you ruffled his hair in the towel, making sure it was dry enough not to drip everywhere. Taking parts of his hair in the towel and scrunching them, you worked like you’d done it all before.

Next, you coated cotton balls in antiseptic balm and dabbed at each of the wounds, and checked all the stitches. The bites had stopped freely bleeding, with only dots of red and some evidence of gooey serosanguinous drainage. After each was disinfected, you blew gently on the raw skin to cool it down. Goosebumps iced their way across Eddie’s body.

When the fresh bandages were applied, Eddie leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes.

“How do you feel?” you asked.

His immediate reaction was to be sarcastic. It was a defense mechanism, but Eddie reminded himself he didn’t need to defend against anything when he was with you. “Not… good… but, ah, a lot better than before,”

“I’ll take that… I’ll get some clean clothes.”

Eddie pulled on clean boxer shorts and sweatpants while you binned all the old bandages left in the bathroom. Once everything was clean, you returned to the couch. You helped him pull a t-shirt over his head, then sank down next to each other.

The soundscape consisted of the fire and the odd bird call coming from the woods outside. It was late, maybe even close to midnight. Not too far away, the rest of Hawkins was still assessing the damage and counting the dead. But there, in an off-the-grid cabin, the rest of Hawkins didn’t exist.

Eddie reached over and placed his hand palm-up on your leg. You took it and held it tight. All the emotion you’d swallowed since seeing him barely alive bubbled up your throat and out of your mouth in a small sob. Eddie rolled his head to look at you, expression sad.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You choked out a laugh. “What are you sorry for?”

“I dunno. Making you worry.”

When you tried to let go of Eddie’s hand to clear your face of tears, he wouldn’t budge. You used your free hand, attempting to not let the soft crying turn into anything more.

“I was so worried.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah… I’m…” As he searched for the words that felt right, his eyes stayed glued to your face. “I’m sorry about… not calling in a while. Not returning your calls,”

“S’okay. You’ve been busy with school and-”

“Nah. Well, yeah. Yeah… But, I…” Fuck it, Eddie thought. He still felt so close to death. He was scared it was something he’d never be able to shake. What did he possibly have to lose? “I got scared. About… you know… You. Like, how I feel about you. Just seemed easier to ignore it than have to… do anything about it… When I say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid but… Losing you ‘cause we lost touch would hurt less than if I lost you ‘cause I ruined it by… having a dumb crush or whatever.”

Dumb crush.

A portal between your world and another? Yeah, sure. A girl with superpowers? Yep. Demogorgons and secret armies and lifesaving songs and everything else that had been handed to you that day? Uh-huh, okay. Eddie having a crush on you? Liking you like you liked him? Well, that sounded impossible.

Unless… it didn’t. Unless it made total sense. Unless it explained so much. Unless it was one small thing the world could give you and Eddie to help balance the scales.

With those big brown eyes, Eddie was finally able to look at you with all the love he had. Warmth spread across his body and he took one step towards peace.

“It…” You shook your head. “It wouldn’t have ruined anything,”

“No?”

“No… ‘Cause…” Poetic was the aim, but exhaustion had steeped your brain in stupid juice. “I’ve got a dumb crush on you too.”

Eddie smiled, soft and kind, only a hint of mischief. “Cool,”

“Cool,”

“So, how much time have we wasted? Being dumb?” he asked.

“Um… Years, probably,”

“Well, fuck.”

You laughed together and sat watching the fire for a long time.

Eddie told you about how he was afraid to be in Hawkins. He was afraid that Wayne’s mates would treat him like the uncle of a killer. Afraid his friends would be hurt, like Gareth had been. Afraid that it wasn’t really, truly over.

You listened, letting him speak and not undermining the feelings with logic or counterarguments. When he was done, you said you understood.

“Can you stay? In Hawkins, I mean. When do you have to go back?” Eddie asked.

“Never, if I don’t want to. Mom and dad want me out. And, it’s not like I’m working a dream job. I could stay… If you wanted me to. To help. Or not. It’s, like… Totally fine-”

“Yes. Stay.”

Another step towards peace.

Maybe, in an unfair and cruel world, where Chrissy Cunningham was dead and you and Eddie had lived miles apart and the drive to Hawkins was long and solitary pain was all Eddie thought he deserved, maybe this – this mutual love, was what you got to make up for it. It wasn’t enough. Of course, it wasn’t. Chrissy and Fred and Patrick deserved to be alive. Steve shouldn’t have had to feel phantom vines around his neck for the rest of his life. Dustin was owed a childhood. Eddie should never have been witch hunted. But, if it had to be like that, then yeah… Maybe you could be Eddie’s girlfriend.

After creating a nest of pillows and blankets in front of the fire, you and Eddie laid down and curled your bodies around each other. He kissed you on the temple, and you listened to his steady heartbeat. For a few perfect hours, everything else faded away while you slept soundly in an ex-cop’s secret little cabin in the woods.

End Note: I hope you liked this little fix-it fic. Please, let me know what you think! Reblogs are especially appreciated.

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader

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therhythmafterthesummer · 2 years

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Blessed (M) ~Hyunjin

Pairing: Incubus!Hyunjin x Human!G.N.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Suggestive smut-ish Warnings: MC is somewhere on the ace spectrum, mentions of death, uncomfortable feelings revolving intercourse (not related to Hyunjin), Dampé from Ocarina of Time is mentioned, possible desecration of holy ground, non-graphic depictions of intercourse. Word Count: ~4k | AO3 Summary: Being intimate with someone was something you had trouble understanding. When you steal an alluring, unexpected item, you finally get a taste of what being with someone was actually like.

Author’s note: continuing with October’s theme! this piece came to be after a talk with a friend about physical desires while on the ace spectrum and how our minds worked around that. It might not be for everyone but it was produced with care and love 💕

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

There had always been something odd about you.

Or at least, it became odd to you once you realised you didn’t share certain aspects of yourself with other people.

When you entered your pre-teen years and conversations about boys and girls roamed wildly in your group of friends, you wondered when that’d become your topic of interest, too–so you could participate. In all honesty, all you wanted to do was talk about the new Avatar: the Last Airbender episode that aired the night before, to discuss theories and how much you liked or disliked a certain character, but alas, your friends were only interested in talking about a random class member that they thought was cute, about how they would write them letters and leave them secretly on their desk, and so on.

When you reached teenagehood, you no longer brought up your topics of interest to your friends, for you had been shut down one too many times in favour of talking about their new boyfriend or girlfriend, so you settled to just listen to them talk and pretend like you understood all those urges they told you about. It was almost like you were gaining all your experience on interpersonal relationships from them–they often commented to you in detail how kissing felt like, how touching someone felt like, and it was almost, almost like you could understand.

At some point, you took up the habit of reading. And through the words you read on the paper, through the swift and detailed descriptions, you got your first taste of romanticism. Suddenly, kisses were intriguing, holding someone was intriguing, and soon paperbacks turned to pixels on a screen where a whole world of possibilities opened up to you.

Words were nice.

You liked the way words came together in your head, the letters seemingly changing shape into images as your eyes scanned each stroke, each pixel. Reading about fictional people falling in love, sharing their love, was enticing, exhilarating, and it had made you curious–much more than any of the stories your friends could tell you about their latest partner. So much so that, by the time you turned eighteen and shared your first kiss with another person, you realised you actually liked the act of kissing.

The memory is fond to you–even if it had all been a product of the alcohol running in your bloodstream. However, the moment the other party involved in the kiss started to get bold with their hands, you realised you did not like that part of kissing. You did not want their hands on you, so you had gracefully pulled yourself away from them and returned to your friends to enjoy the rest of the night.

By the time you were a young adult, half-way into your university studies, working a part time job, surrounded by a solid group of friends, you had decided to try finally experiencing all those things you had read about for years, all those things your friends had told you about. You met a good friend who had similar likes and dislikes to yours, who had similar views on the world, who you found objectively attractive, and when they made a proposition to you, you said yes.

The first time you got intimate with someone, you could admit it had been okay–nice, even. But it took a lot for you to not feel slightly ashamed after, not because you had done anything weird or non-consensual, but because the moment the other person had asked you to do it again you had to turn them down, effectively breaking that friendship.

It wasn’t them, it was you.

Your whole body cringed whenever you remembered their hands on you, even if they had been nothing but caring and dotting and great, the second you had reached your climax and the light buzz in your brain dissipated you realised you were not cut out for this. Not with this person, possibly not with anyone. So, you continued to indulge only in your head, only in the fantasies you read.

‘It’s not that odd’, one of your closest friends told you once when you had been brave enough to disclose this insecurity of yours. ‘Sex isn’t that great usually anyway… Some people just aren’t interested in it and that’s fine’, which was something that reassured you–that reassurance letting you carry on with your life.

When your friends decided to host a ‘Halloween’ event in the town’s biggest graveyard you had almost said no, not because you were scared or anything, just because you had a shit-ton of reading to do for your early Monday class. Your friends had insisted, alleging ‘c’mon, it’s Friday night… You can read over the weekend…’ which you supposed was a good enough excuse to convince you.

The event was planned to be a treasure hunt of sorts. ‘It’s like Dampé’s Heart-Pounding Gravedigging Tour from OoT, but without the digging!’ your friend had excitedly told you. So, at 23:00hrs on the 31st of October, with empty tote bags slung over your shoulders, you and other nineteen people set off into this game, moving individually to find the hidden items scattered across the cemetery. The person that found the most items would win a cash prize and an ungodly amount of Halloween treats.

The items you had to collect had a small tag attached with Dampé’s face on it, so it was easy to spot something that was meant for you to pick up and something that wasn’t–none of you actually wanted to take anything from the graves, so they had designed this system. You had a full hour to roam the cemetery, at midnight the event would be over and the findings of each participant would be counted. You had managed to find a total of fifteen items, deciding to spend the last ten minutes of the game scavenging around the mausoleums close to where the ‘referees’ of the game were waiting for the players.

Five minutes before the clock struck midnight, you saw something gleaming in your peripheral vision. It was almost like the thing was calling you, pulling you towards it, so you moved. It was so small, you would’ve totally missed it if you had not been crouching around the area in the first place. After dusting it off, you picked it up to realise it was an antique brooch, a cameo you could not quite make out the features of due to all the dirt and grime.

Two minutes to midnight.

This thing didn’t have a tag with Dampé’s face on it.

You were supposed to take from the graveyard only the items placed there by the organisers of the event.

But the thing was… Oddly alluring.

Glancing towards the referees, you made sure they weren’t looking at you before you stuffed the thing in your jean’s pocket, your body suddenly feeling like it was vibrating, a ringing settling in your ears. It was wrong. You shouldn’t take it, but you had done it already, and you couldn’t bring yourself to back down.

The deafening sound of the horn going off startled you. The treasure hunt was over, and by the time you made it to where the referees were, there were people already dumping the contents of their totes on the portable table they had brought along.

You didn’t win that night, but the extra weight in your pocket almost made it feel like you did.

When you got home, you took the thing out of your pocket to rinse it under some warm water. It was not enough to remove the caked mud on it, so taking the old toothbrush you kept under your sink for moments just like these, you started to softly scrub the thing, adding a bit of dish soap to help with the dirt.

Somewhere in the world, there was probably an antique collector having a heart attack as you used a fucking toothbrush and some random white label dish soap to clean an antiquity. But you had to make do, so you tried to be as careful as you could, your fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.

Rinsing it under water one last time, patting it dry with a paper towel, you looked closely at the cameo. It was even prettier now that you could actually notice the details, the chiselled profile of a young man carved into nacre, framed by an intricate border.

It really was pretty.

Really pretty.

Once you had finally scrubbed yourself clean in the shower, removing all that death dust and grime off of you, you got yourself into your comfiest pyjamas, leaving the cameo resting on your windowsill, right under the moonlight. As you looked at it from where your head rested on your pillow, you felt your exhaustion of the day clinging to your bones, dragging you into a semi-asleep state.

‘It’s okay, keep it’ the words danced in your subconscious, spreading warmth within your chest, right as you fell asleep completely.

Misty wisps clouded your vision, all images going through your eyes muted by reds and yellows, the scent of incense luring you to move forward, to find what was calling you, pulling you. Your body felt light, almost as if you were gliding instead of walking, staring at tall columns with intricate patterns carved onto their surface. You could hear water trickling, faintly, but close to you.

“What do we have here…?”

The sudden sound of someone talking startled you, the voice smooth, velvety, going into your system like the sweetest honey you have ever tasted on your tongue. Your gaze sought the source, frantically looking around you until the fog around you dissipated, letting you see the end of the room you were standing in.

Plush carpet and even plusher pillows were stacked on one of the corners of the room, all warm, inviting colours scattered around a young man. He was lithe, graceful, his body covered in gold, with fire red hair and piercing cerulean eyes staring back at you, almost as if he was looking right into you. You couldn’t look away from him, and–slightly alarmed–you realised there was a foreign feeling brewing quickly within you. Something you had never felt when you looked at a person, something you’d only ever felt when you were immersed in your books.

“Thank you, little human”, his voice was doing things to you, things you couldn’t explain. “Thanks to you, I’m free once again”.

When he stood up, you couldn’t help but admire his stance. He walked towards you, his movements slow but so smooth and fluid, your eyes didn’t know where to settle as he came close, you wanted–needed–to take him all in as much as you could, admire him as much as you could.

“My name’s Hyunjin”, with your hand in his, he brought it to his lips, placing a soft, delicate kiss on your knuckles. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance”.

Words would not come out of your mouth, your eyes frantically jumping from one of his eyes to the other as he looked back at you, an amused expression painting the features of his face as he noticed your struggle. “It’s okay, darling. You don’t need to say anything, I already know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours”, he finally let go of your hand, moving instead to cup your face between his palms, his thumb softly drawing patterns on your cheeks as he looked deep into you, heat spreading over your face as you melted into his touch.

“Since I truly am grateful, I am going to give you a gift. You should feel lucky, darling, this is not something I get to give often…” He took a step closer, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his body, while the other cradled the back of your head–the sudden contact making your heart flip in your chest and making that feeling of warmth grow between your legs.

“I’m going to give you the freedom of choice. Tonight, I’ll let you sleep. I’ll even help you have the best sleep you’ve ever had. Tomorrow, you’ll have to decide… If you don’t want to partake in what’s to come, you must take the cameo and drop it where someone else can find it”, his face moved close to you, your breath hitching in your throat as his lips brushed yours lightly. “But… If you do wish to partake in what’s to come, you are to keep the cameo, keep it with you when you go to sleep tomorrow, and I’ll give you all those things you’ve always wished for but never had the courage or drive to ask for…”

With that, he leaned in, connecting his mouth fully with yours. You had kissed people before, but never had you felt like this, like your knees couldn’t keep your body up, like your whole body was on fire, like you couldn’t think.

‘Horny…’ Your subconscious mocked you, the voice in your head sounding eerily close to Hyunjin’s.

You held onto him, feeling his heated skin under your palms as his tongue made his way into your mouth. The slow movement of his tongue against yours had your head spinning, your body pressing itself further into him, which made him chuckle against your lips.

When Hyunjin parted from you, your lips chased after him, the action bringing a smirk to his face. “That’s just a taste of what you could get, little human. Should you decide to keep the cameo with you when you sleep, I can give you that and so, so much more”.

Waking up was hard today. Sleep clung to you, feeling as if you were floating on a cloud. When was the last time you slept this well? You couldn’t tell, but your body felt light, and slightly tingly. The early morning sunshine peeked through the drapes, its warm touch falling onto your face.

With a hazy mind and the coolness of the bedsheets clinging to your frame, your eyes opened slowly, only for you to realise your hips were grinding on the pillow you hugged every night to sleep. Your movements halted as soon as you registered it, puzzled at the wetness you could feel between your legs.

It wasn’t like you’d never woken up feeling this way before, just that never had your body reacted this strongly to it. Warmth spread all over you, a desperate need threading in every fibre of your being as you laid there on your bed.

You swallowed thickly, ignoring the ache between your legs completely as you sat down on your bed. You couldn’t help but feel like you should be doing something, like there was something you needed to remember, as if you had a sentence on the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t quite fully let out of your mouth. Shaking your head, you decided to push that feeling to the back of your mind, standing up from your bed to start your morning routine.

With a fresh face full of your favourite skincare products you remembered you didn’t have any coffee left in your pantry, so, on a whim, you decided to head over to the nearest café to get some coffee and breakfast–you were used to doing all this at home, but indulging every once in a while wouldn’t hurt, would it?

As you got dressed, your eyes landed on the cameo on your windowsill, flashes of last night’s treasure hunt crossing your mind. What if it had belonged to someone that was buried there? Or if it was dropped by one of their loved ones? Then again, it looked like it had been there for a long time so you shouldn’t feel guilty for having taken it… Or should you?

The thing felt warm in your hand–from being under the sunlight, you figured. The tip of your thumb traced the profile carved in nacre and a feeling of familiarity spread within you as your eyes took in the face of the young man. Had this person existed? Or had it been just created in the mind of a skilled artist for them to carve it and frame it in such a pretty piece?

In a last minute decision, you shoved the cameo in your pocket, feeling almost as if you had to take it with you. Maybe you should return it to the place you found it, leaving it to rest with the dead, with the person it had probably belonged to.

When you stepped out of your building you were greeted with a welcoming sunny day. The streets around your building complex were bursting with life, with cyclists driving by and people hurriedly walking along; yet, you couldn’t help but feel like something was amiss.

As you moved along the busy streets, your hand reached inside your pocket, taking the cameo out to admire it under the sun. ‘Are you going to keep it or leave it?’ Your subconscious told you, the voice in your head sounding almost foreign, but familiar at the same time. Moving your gaze from the cameo to the fountain you were walking by, your movements halted.

You wondered briefly if you should leave it on the fountain rim, maybe leaving it there for someone else to find would ease that anxious feeling of guilt you harboured since you had picked it up. Maybe someone else would be more worthy of keeping such an intricate piece, someone who would be able to appreciate its beauty to the fullest… You didn’t like that thought. Somehow, you didn’t like to think about someone else having it. You had found it yourself, why couldn’t you keep it?

There was something about this cameo… That made you feel like you wanted to keep it. Maybe you could be that worthy person that could appreciate it as it was.

In therapy, you had learnt that anxiety came from indecision, from lack of acceptance towards the decisions you took in life. So, you made a decision, completely ready to accept that decision fully.

You decided to keep the cameo.

“So, you kept it”.

Recognition washed over you as you found yourself in that room again. Suddenly, you remembered why you wanted to keep the cameo in the first place, and as you stood there, looking at Hyunjin, you were more than certain that you had made the exact decision you needed to. How could you not? With his presence alone you had felt more than what any other person had made you feel, you felt an odd sense of curiosity that ached to be satisfied, and it was clear to you he knew it, if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

“It’s okay to feel the way you do now, you know?” He commented as he walked closer to you, getting into your space. Your eyes never left his, your hands itching with a sudden need to reach out to him, to touch him. “It’s only natural, it’s the effect I have on people, little one. Even when I don’t do it on purpose like now”.

Hyunjin stood right in front of you, so close, but somehow too far away for your liking. “I must say, though… You are quite the interesting case. So many unexplored areas in that brain of yours, in that body of yours, too…”

He walked closer, but he made no move to touch you. “In a way, you’re far from those that I’ve engaged before, but humans, my darling, tend to have the same needs at their very core. Although, I’ve come to learn that the means to fulfil those needs can be vastly different from person to person”.

Hyunjin was so close, you could feel his body heat seeping into you, the proximity making you feel slightly dizzy. So many different feelings and thoughts roamed freely inside of you, curiosity, eagerness, worry, and–as shock revelation to even yourself–lust. A feeling of lust so strong it had your nerve endings on fire, the fine hairs on your arm standing on end as you stared deep into his eyes.

You’d felt lust before, it was not a foreign feeling, you knew how it felt like, but you’d never felt it towards another being before, and it puzzled you. A smirk crept onto Hyunjin’s lips, the action making you look at his mouth and letting your mind wander. “I can understand why you would feel confused. But, as you might have noticed, I am not from your world, my dear. I exist, and I don’t at the same time. Only a mere presence in your mind for as long as you keep the cameo with you as you fall asleep. As it is right now, I’ll only exist for you for as long as you want me to, for as long as your body can take it, and if you’re good to me, you’ll be able to take it for a long time. Let’s call it a mutually beneficial agreement…”

“However, if you’re not good to me, you’ll slowly wither, you’ll become sick and brittle”, Hyunjin’s face was impassive, completely void of any emotion as he stared at you. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You did, so you nodded. There was something in you pulling you to him, that curiosity you felt the first moment you saw him blooming quickly within you, aching for fulfilment, and you were ready to accept any consequences doing just that might bring.

“Touch me”.

The certainess in your voice should’ve surprised you, but it didn’t. As soon as the syllables left your mouth you knew that was exactly what you wanted, just as Hyunjin seemed to know, too–if the smirk on his face, again, was anything to go by.

His hands found your waist, pulling you close to him. His warmth engulfed you fully, and the moment his lips descended on yours, you felt your mind go blank, completely void of anything other than his lips on you, his hands on you, and his tongue in your mouth.

When Hyunjin moved you towards the corner of the room, laying on the carpet and pulling you to straddle him, you couldn’t help the noises that escaped you. It was almost too much, but not in the way you were used to feeling when someone touched you; instead of feeling like you wanted to pull away from his roaming hands you pushed yourself to his touch, sometimes going as much as holding his hands on yours and placing them where you wanted them on your body, making him chuckle, entirely amused by your desperation.

Clothes were discarded, heated flesh pressing against heated flesh as Hyunjin left open mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands feeling you up, warming you up. You had your fair share, too, groping and holding and caressing anywhere and everywhere your hands could reach, enjoying every single sound that came from his mouth.

Once your bodies connected at their very cores, with your hips grinding down on him, your mouths devouring one another, you couldn’t help but ask against his mouth between pants, “will I remember this when I wake up?”

Hyunjin simply chuckled, his hands caressing the planes of your back only to dip, holding your hips, assisting your movement. “Only if you’re good to me”.

And you wanted to.

You desperately wanted to be good to him, to give him anything he asked you for, so you did. Feeling nothing but extasis and satisfaction any time he filled you up, any time you felt yourself let go under his touch.

For once, you didn’t feel disgusted or ashamed. For once, you were able to enjoy yourself, to enjoy him, and when you woke up the next day a panting, sweaty mess, with the remnants of your very much real and tangible climax on your skin, you couldn’t help but feel thankful.

Thankful that, in a way, you had been blessed by this demon, for he had helped you find a way to feel all those things your friends had ever told you about in the confines of your mind, without any restraints.

Constructive feedback is always welcome :)

#stray kids fantasy au #stray kids supernatural au #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fanfiction #hyunjin x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #✨🌙✏

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bug-decal-kissing · 3 months

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Hey friends!

Sowing The Seeds, by Mezzmer, was updated today, with 4/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Hurt/Comfort, Character Growth, journey to love yourself bro, Enemies to Friends, maybe more wink wonk, past grudges, Humor, oh my god they were roommates, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Reflection, Lots of it, Tags May Change"

You can read it here:

THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGGGGGGG They are so stupid, I love them so much, besties please just communicate and listen to each other <3 But alas, one cannot have proper and good homoeroticism without a little bit of arguing/silly

#prohibitedwish #prohibitedwish fics #sowing the seeds

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 2 years

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tuesday again 10/25/22

fairly short bc i have either been sleeping or manually cleaning a database (upside down smiley face emoji)

listening ruby (instrumental) by hovvdy. this is a rare song where i like the instrumental version much more than the full song-- the lead singer has a bad case of early aughts indie frontman voice (get well soon). this sounds like (stay with me okay) the background music to some of the old american girl flash games, specifically the dog walking game. i think it's the combination of the drum machine and the dense, rapid loop under the melody.

it sounds faded but not in the volume sense, in like a mellow sense? it sounds like driving to go apple picking. overall it is laidback but peppy. courtesy of my discover weekly.

youtube

reading mervyn peake's titus groan, the first in a trilogy about the inhabitants of the baroque yet medieval Castle Groan. i am reading this book in a way i do not normally read books, to wit: one or two chapters at a time a week apart. i sit by a river until i get bored, i think "oh right there's a book in my bag" and read until i get bored again. i am falling more and more in love with the prose in this thing-- the lady mother of the castle has a billion white cats, and they all rush into her room until (i am not getting up to quote this precisely) "every shadow in the room was blanched with cats". MWAH. love it. i have just met the teen lady fuchsia groan. DREADFUL child. excited to find out what her whole deal is.

i also need you all to look at the PBS site for the two-season adaptation they did in the year 2000. this is the most 2000s shit ive ever seen this is incredible

watching if for some reason you want to watch a response to rio bravo (an extremely tiresome movie which is in itself a response to high noon) Assault On Precinct 13 (1976, dir Carpenter) is really your only option i think? fun hour and a half tower defense, fun effects, this movie takes place either in evening or actual night and i can still see everything that's going on bc carpenter shelled out for the best processing money could buy (to the detriment of actually uhhhh paying his talent).

one of the more charged smoking scenes ive seen in some time. god laurie zimmer is hot

i markov chained my way to this film bc i am always interested in responses to westerns (usually this means reinterpreting them as cop dramas, bc most american cowboy movies are propaganda pieces about trusting law enforcement and how imperialism is good, something something civic religion/manifest destiny/reach for the sky pardner) and i want to watch more things that feel like The Taking of Pelham 123 bc by god was that movie fun to watch. maybe i do like hostage movies??? this is a weird development for me.

playing despondently puttering about in the fourth fallout. really wish i found the companion deacon endearing, but i do not. this game has several too many sad dead wife guys, and if there was anything interesting under the very obvious front he's putting on deacon would be a much more interesting (to me) character. alas.

making fallow week

#the watching is more of a rehash of a post i made earlier this week #but i simply have not been watching very much #tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Youtube

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ansixilus · 6 months

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@humormehorny Eh, close enough. You did ask, even if it wasn't via the ask function, so it works for me.

Keystone Research

When I was a teen, my friends and I were quite fond of the games Second Sight and Geist. The paranormal that creeps all too close to home, the morally bankrupt corporation researching supernatural weapons, and the lonely, haunted feeling... perfect recipe for firing up the imagination. I wanted to turn this into a video game, but alas it's rather quite beyond my scope. And so, I wrote down some of it, bits of lore and character concepts.

A sprawling, underground research facility, seemingly with endless staff and yet clearly a skeleton crew for something of this size. Security checkpoints and scanners everywhere, yet the place has glaring holes for simple lack of manpower. Streams of new equipment somehow don't dispel the pervasive feeling of slight grime, as if everything is just slightly outdated and had to have the dust blown off a moment ago.

And of course, the test subjects, the prisoners, the victims. They who would be the player characters. Captured and stolen from their lives for no greater crime than their psychic potential, imprisoned and experimented upon without justice or recourse.

There's the boy who can start fires. At first, he was grateful to be somewhere that his powers couldn't hurt innocents, couldn't hurt his family or friends. Couldn't kill anyone else. His opinion changed all too quickly. Once they knew how to prevent him from burning them, they had no need to be gentle, nor kind. At least complying is less painful than resisting them... for now. Who knows how long it will be before they decide to biopsy his brain. He wouldn't be the first.

There's the girl who can see the future. They think she's telekinetic, which she is a little, and a mind reader, which she also is a little. But she's been trying to figure out how to escape. Death after death, gunned down or beaten or victim of grenade, caught in a flamethrower a couple times, once she fell into a chasm and broke both legs. She hasn't escaped yet. They think she's plagued by nightmares, and that's why her mental health is deteriorating. If you acknowledge that her life is a nightmare, then they're right about that too. They don't know she's trying to escape. They don't know she knows they'll kill her before too long. They don't know she's both desperate and resolved to live.

There's the man who's telekinetic. They don't experiment much on him. He doesn't trust them. He's killed more than one so far. He knows there's no getting out of this for any of the test subjects, not without violence. He just doesn't want to abandon the other subjects, but he doesn't know how to break them all out yet.

There's the woman who's blind, but can see through other people's eyes. She's not used to being blind, she's always had other people to see with. People, cameras, animals, bugs, and even plants to a small degree, she's always had a way to navigate. Being in such an empty place is new, and would be bad enough without her looming doom. She can hear the girl who sees the future, so she knows that they all have so little time.

... I hadn't gotten so far as to figure out the third act yet. There's got to be some reason for the seriously short time limit, some reason for why this corporation is killing their golden geese. I just haven't figured out what yet. The demon curveball from Geist always struck me as way out of left field.

Semiautomagic

What happens when you play video games while listening to audiobooks? Your brain invents crossovers, of course! The Dresden Files crossed with, of all things, Terraria.

If you take it as canon that the player characters from Terraria are fundamentally different from NPCs, and that this is common knowledge, worlds of possibility open up. Literally, perhaps. If "heroes" are the few people who can return after death, who have the power of Creation, and who can jump between different worlds... then what happens when one comes to the Dresden verse?

This is clearly a Quiet World. Heroes have little power here... well, little compared to the power in a Fated World, though most heroes could well be heralds of apocalyptic destruction in a Quiet World if they set their mind to it. But heroes have no need for power in Quiet Worlds either, their name is for a reason: Quiet Worlds are not besieged by corruptions, or undead plagues, or incomprehensible monsters from beyond the stars. They're quiet. The only things the people in such places have to fear is each other, which prospect doesn't much scare a hero. These are the places heros go to take vacations.

So why does this world have a wizard in it? Why does this world have monsters? Why are the people here doomed and fated? Why are they hunted by creatures of night, why are they besieged by evil? There is something terribly wrong with this world. And heroes confront the wrongness, destroy that which is evil so that which is good may flourish. This Wizard is clearly the fated champion, whom the hero must assist. No matter the sharp limits this un-Quiet World puts on their power of Creation, a hero can fight through any attrition and win in the end.

Now if only the fated wizard would stop being quite so suspicious of them.

The Monarchs

In the mid 90's, there was a game called Total Annihilation. It was quite successful in its own little strategy niche, and wound up being able to launch a spin-off, which was just... odd. It was fantasy instead of sci-fi, it was in many ways simplified in bizarre directions, and it was largely unknown for a host of reasons. That said, it still left a fair impression on those who played it, especially the surprisingly good story.

But I thought, "Well, the story is good, but it's very high scope. It's about kings and generals, and other grand bits of history. Can we talk for a moment about people? Spare me for now the story of the Trojan War, the heroes and sieges and tallies of the dead, and instead tell me about a complicated man. Let me see the moment when the messenger from Queen Thirsha, a bold and cunning harpy who has never til this day needed fear any human, truly realizes the enormity and power of the sorcerer-king before her. Let me plumb the motivations of King Lokken, let me explore the mind of a well-intentioned extremist, truly understand this man and the doom he sought to avert."

And then we moved and I couldn't find the dang game discs for several years, so I couldn't actually finish the story to write the fanfiction. I recently purchased it from GoG, but getting a twenty-four year old game working on a modern computer's alien OS is a challenge which has thus far bested my modest computer skills.

#asks answered #tag game

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todayisafridaynight · 10 months

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NO LISTEN. LISTEN. I CONCEALED THE TITLE ON PURPOSE BECAUSE... IDK what it is but I have a tendency to like things that would be hard to watch for one reason or another for MOST of the runtime but then by the end it's like Oh So This Was GOOD Actually? Oh So My Brain Is Rewired?

And then it just becomes IMPOSSIBLE to recommend because I have no idea if The Majority Of It would actually be worth the conclusion to anyone but me😭😭😭SP is along those lines, sort of, but I've at least seen success with that... but this is also the case for my favorite Tsutsumi movie of all time, actually... alas...

Nevertheless. The show is called After the Rain! I think it was originally a manga and it has a live-action adaptation too [criminal not to actually cast Tsutsumi in either In My Opinion but FINE I GUESS]. It's about a former track star in high school, Akira Tachibana, who works part-time at a restaurant and has the MOST EMBARRASSING crush on her manager, Masami Kondo, the character I showed you before, who is Tsutsumi But As A Middle-Aged Divorcee With A Son. They befriend each other and help each other come to grips with the future and the past, respectively.

I was afraid of the obvious because a lot of media that tries to do this ends up making it fucking weird... like, this sort of dynamic means a lot to me for personal reasons and I've been burned too many times by characters I'd come to love and trust... but naw... my man Kondo is Normal About It that's all that matters to me... I had to breathe SUCH a sigh of relief...

I really don't like that the camera is sometimes not normal about Akira, though, it undermines the actual themes of the show a bit. IDK, I'm hypersensitive, I expect it's nothing super egregious compared to a lot of other media, but it's just disappointing because SOMETIMES there's artistic merit in terms of representing what Akira's feeling and other times it's just totally unnecessary and introduces a tonal clash... SPEAKING OF THERE IS A GUY WHO IS NOT NORMAL ABOUT AKIRA AND THE ENTIRE PLOT THREAD IS BASICALLY JUST DROPPED BECAUSE HE'S HARDLY EVEN IN THE SHOW AFTER THAT... I WANTED CONSEQUENCES...

But if nothing else, that's not even exactly why I said it's a hard watch, the actual reason is the NUCLEAR levels of secondhand embarrassment for like two thirds of the show. Like GIRL he is NOT INTO YOU AND HE SHOULDN'T BE... GET A GRIP OH MY GODDDDDDDD................. but like, I was That Girl when I was her age, right, so the fact it had me imploding thinking back on everything is a testament to its accuracy overall. Probably.

And NGL that type of dynamic is basically how I conceptualize RGGJo and Arakawa when they first met... Jo and Akira may be cringe-ass teens but I got a soft spot for it I do... it can be FUNNY... it can be WHOLESOME...

All of that being said, the last third or so might as well be a different show, and it kind of blows the rest out of the water for me. Maybe because it focuses on Kondo and Akira separately? But it's free of literally anything I could possibly complain about. I ain't mad about the first two thirds, it does set up a lot of what made the last third so enjoyable... buuut...

ANYWAY that's ENOUGH OF THAT I am CUTTING MYSELF OFF THERE I've gone on for WAY TOO LONG ABOUT SHIT NOBODY ASKED ABOUT☠️Not like you can say anything to All That I just don't have anybody to talk to about it☠️and despite the fact I'm still not REALLY Recommending It and don't think it sounds appealing from my description, I feel like I probably shouldn't talk about the endgame stuff I'm obsessed with so☠️☠️☠️Anyway. If NOTHING Else. Funny as hell to have Tsutsumi as the basis for The Perfect Middle-Aged Man... SOOO true...

YAYA the DQXI demo goes like, up to just after you get the? Twins? in your party. And you can keep playing the game without progressing the story + continue your save in the full game so technically speaking I COULD grind until I'm overpowered... but I shan't... I'm not positive when I'm getting it since I still wanna play the series in order... For Ichiban... [<- see this is RGG-related now]

It is SO sick to actually get to play though, that's awesome! Toriyama's worked on some bangers what can I say... My first DQ was one of the DS remakes, probably DQV, but the only DQ game I've ever actually finished was the Rocket Slime spinoff. Very Fun By The Way genuinely one of my favorite DS titles... but THAT'S NEITHER HERE NOR THERE... regardless... Arachtagon is not in the demo but I can believe he's a bitch to fight given one of the top results is this ☠️

So I'm glad you're past it and are having fun with the game :] I loved your comic SOOO SO SO much so having that bit of background on makes it all the more enjoyable! I had my own comic about RGGJo losing his mind "babysitting" Ichi and watching him grind for hours on end which was also lowkey about my experience with DQI... lol... lmao even...

I'M SORRYYYYYY THOUGH I TOLD YOU SP WAS SLOW TO START FOR A REASON 😭😭😭😭It took me a while to notice but title sequences are always something like Episode III Part I so they're almost all multi-ep arcs... threw me for a loop... Okay that's enough from me Jesus fucking Christ I am SORRY for going on this long but just I have to say:

inoue's chara is so funny like He's Super Human um doc… i think he's just autistic lowkey….. he still a baller regardless tho

REAL AND TRUE AND REAL AND TRUE AND REAL AND

and i've already added it to the To-Watch list :) NO BUT REAL I UNDERSTAND HOW YOU FEEL- in trying to sell something but having to be like Here Me Out I Swear on it BUT I BELIEVE YOU THAT ITS GOOD. i know i can trust your word on something and i def appreciate the preemptive notes given before watching. im sure i'll enjoy it in the end: it looks cute and im glad it sounds like it's doing something better with a Touchy trope ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ biggest RIP to no tsutsumi in the live action but... cant be helped.....

NO BUT IT'S SO FUNNY CAUSE FOR MY COMIC I WANTED TO SEE WHAT OTHER PEOPLE'S 'HARDEST BOSSES' WERE AND I FELT SO SEEN IN SEEING ARACHTAGON AS AN OPTION..... funnily enough tho when i redid the fight it wasnt nearly as nightmarish as it was when i first did it but Again i think i was just better prepared... (also during my first attempt i had Literally the most fuck ass luck where my team kept getting stunned and dying but rab kept bringing them back to life and i Just Couldnt Die or even move so... Horrible First Experience Ruined A Game For Seven Months For Me ( ￣▽￣ ;;;;)). the first instance of DQ i remember seeing was DQIX and being liek 'hey they looks familiar :)' and ive just been watchin it since 🤭 ROCKET SLIME IS SO CUTE THOUGH if you had to finish ANY of the games im glad it was that one... i wish i got to play the series in order since I Like Doing That but im annoying about wanting to play things on The Official Console...

AH BUT IVE ALWAYS LIKED THE IDEA OF JO WATCHING ICHI PLAY A GAME i mentioned i had an abandoned comic about it but its still such a silly and cute idea.. id very much like to do something with it someday if not see others have fun with it cause i think they should have them silly family moments too..

NO IT'S OK I JUST FOUND IT FUNNY AN ARC WAS LIKE. 3-4 EPS WHEN AT MOST THEY'RE LIKE TWO i'm just about rapping up the ohashi arc and its SOOOOO good... i also love how the drama has a pretty diverse soundtrack that i notice a lot of other jdramas lack so thats DEF been a bonus plus all of the choreography (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) and real. inoue Is Just Neurodivergent that got solidified within me after seeing him mess around with that riddle book ☠️

#long post #snap chats #but SPEAAAAKING of cutting of asks im cutting it here good GOD this is long #its accurate that tsutsumi is just Iconic for being A Middle Aged Man that's just accurate.. cant explain it but i know its true..#i mean to save most of my chatter for the tags but. oops LMAO so i have nothing else left to say #other than im gonna start ep 8 now :) i really wanna see how this arc ends...#and then i just have three more episoes weh... but then i can start After The Rain :)#GETTING BACK TO THAT NOOOO ITS SOOO FUNNY cause i remember seeing the title of this drama #and being like 'what in the fresh hell is this' thinking itd be weird or just. What The Fuck #and i mean it WAS to an extent but no overall i left it just. ABSOLUTELY in love with it... it was really touching and light hearted #no freak shit moments either.. just ended up being a I Think This Is Whole story..#so uh yeah. i totally get how you feel tryna talk bout this LMAOO BUT AGAIN i know not to judge quickly #i always stick out to the end of shows and movies before making an opinion and Again i trust you for it to be good....#plus masami really is cute 😔 who am i to turn away an endearing middle aged divorced father 😔#OK I GOTTA GO NOW IVE REALLY GON ON TOO LONG BYYYE #THANK YOU FOR THE NEW SHOW REC :)))

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marjiandco · 2 years

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12. Miss the boat

Time/Place: Stormblood. Zenos laments his small cage when he runs into the Warrior of light. Written from Zenos POV

TW: Thoughts of suicide, mentions of abuse, Blood, Violence, choking

Word Count: 1522

Everything was so...dull.

The metal of Garlean soldiers stood rigid in salute, reeds in a grey water. Not quite alive, but not quite rotten. Magitek ground in the back as the automatons atop moved them around. They had to keep the gears warm, ready for the assault on the savages encampment.

As the crown prince, he’s followed his father’s orders to the letter. Learn techniques of the battlefield, learn to be a solider. Act as Viceroy, prepare conquered nations for homogenization. Little freedom from the collar that tightens at his every thought. It weighed heavy on him, and he planned to slough it off, head and all, soon after this mundane battle.

He’s already given his Viceroy title to an ex-doman, and trained an Ala Mhigan to cultivate her hate. They would wield his shackles nicely once he’s left. Even the irritable little one, who dogged his steps and licked at his heels, would make for the next strategist. His father will of course look at him in disappointment when he’s realized his son’s departure. An ordinary, useless emotion glued to the man’s face at each meeting would certainly not change after death.

Zenos turned his helmet up and counted the seconds as he watched the clouds. Barely any movement.

“Move in.” He said hollowly.

The fodder headed down a bath to rocky outcrop, where the mages removed the glamour, and he listened to the sounds of battle. The sounds used to thrill him; the hunt, the capture of prey and the glorious balance of life and death. To walk that knifes edge, unsure which way it would tilt.

He used to feel that rush on the hunts his father would allow him on. As a teen he would chase after predators larger than the last, more dangerous. Those that would corner him with little else but a blunt dagger and he would come out covered in blood not his own. He would bathe in those moments, the few times he could feel life course through him, hot and energetic.

The days were over. It was unbecoming as his days have grown long and his responsibilities kept him docile. Immobile. Sure they gave his caged life enrichment in these little spats with the other nations, but it was never more deadly than the possibility of wasting more time than not.

“Viceroy we need you down here.” Fordola said bluntly in his ear.

He sighed, and moved into the fray.

Fires burned, their makeshift tents blackened with smoke. Bodies, mostly the Ala Mhigans, littered the ground. It seemed things were going as planned. Irritation colored his gait until he spotted the girl fighting against a small group.

Eorzeans. Embers of interest hummed in his stomach. So the rumors were true. If the Eorzeans were here, the possibility of it’s champion not far behind. Perhaps one more sport before the inevitable. Something to linger on his tongue before the taste of steel.

Yet they proved little more savage than your average soldier. He knocked them aside with ease. As he grumbled to himself, a lalafellin man stood in his away, an arrow pointed at Zenos’ heart.

“I am the Warrior of Light, and you will not harm them anymore.” He said.

His voice was high, and he could see the bow shake in the man’s hands. Sweat dripped down his brow, creating a sheen over an overly freckled face. Zenos wasn’t sure who this man thought he’d fool; did he simply believe that the Crowned prince of an enemy nation wouldn’t know of the Eikon slayer?

And yet.

And yet someone so frightened would stand in a Garlean’s wake unless he’s buying time. The champion might make an appearance after all, and Zenos would still get his hunt. So, he indulged the creature.

A languid swing of the sword, a tightening grip to catch arrows before they could hit his armor, and he chased the lalafell in their makeshift arena. He couldn’t dodge even the simplest of attacks, and Zenos slowed his movements to accommodate, annoyance in having to wait for so long.

He would let the lalafell crawl away before giving him a new cut, and would hit the surrounding area to let the beast live. Just long enough, he could wait, but his patience wasn’t a bottomless well. He caught the man on his back and pressed a boot down on his stomach. There’s no use pretending at this point, he couldn’t fake letting the lalafell out of his grasp anymore than he wanted to continue this little charade.

He pointed his sword above the man’s stomach, and he jealously watched the veins in his neck pump life through his body. How he wished he could feel that same warmth, the same need to continue this piteous life.

“Fuck off of him.” A guttural shout exploded behind him, and Zenos turned at the heel to face who called to him.

The lalafell grunted beneath him, as he took a step backwards to avoid a mage’s wind attack. No, it was a summon’s attack, and it reared back for another, and another. A twist at the waist, and a cut of his sword was enough to rebuff the magicks, but it wasn’t the casters goal. With his focus on the egi wrapped in smoke, the lalafell was dragged away from him.

He laughed to himself, and bent at the knees. A charged cut sliced the egi in twain, and he followed the sounds of a dragging body. There. He used his own learned magick to drive his sword into the ground and let the aether burst beneath rock.

The lalafell’s would be savior yelled out, and he leapt towards it. A kick connected with flesh and bone, and the savior was thrown yalms back.

“Enough of this.” He whipped his sword overhead, and the smoke spread apart, enough that he could see a miqo’te woman panting as she stood back to her feet. She bared her teeth at him, but it was a mechanical move.

Her eyes were as dull as him. Empty as it hid her away behind her own cage he’s sure the savages have placed her in. She stood in a default position, her grimoire in hand, eyes barely registering her opponent as her mind wanders elsewhere. Surely he could get her attention. He could test her, from one caged beast to another.

She attacked first. She cycled through different summons in an attempt to test his weaknesses, and he in turn used some of his more disused attacks. His blade caught against her skin, and a thin wave of blood arched from her forearm along his blade.

A growl escaped from her, and her eyes glowed blue. He waited for her spell to work through, and aether crackled around him as a great blue dragons fire enveloped him. Inside he marveled at the burst of color. Something not grey, or black, or dark red. It was beautiful and hot. It burned the metal surrounding his body, but he basked in the pain. It suddenly dropped him into the present, and burned the embers inside of him.

When the attack ceased, she was smiling, and he saw it in her. Life, and present attention. As soon as she saw he was safe, he watched that light start to disappear. He panicked, and rushed forward to grab her by the collar and force her too look directly at him. He can’t lose it, not this fast, not when he just saw it in someone else.

She struggled against him grip, her nails scratched into his armor as she kicked at his stomach. He couldn’t feel it as without her weapon there was little power behind her hits. He pulled her close, and waited.

There. She was seeing him, she was standing on that knifes edge with him, wondering which way it’ll twist. She had that sparkle in her eyes as she searched for meaning in his movements. One purple, one red. Blood started to trickle down her temple and onto his glove, and he shivered at its warmth. Even now, as he squeezed her neck and watched her choke she would not remove her attention off of him.

“Marji!”

The present look was gone. He could almost see the shackles wrap around her again and pull her towards the voice. Anger roiled in his stomach as a elezen girl rushed forward, hands in little fists as she pulled on the champions bonds.

He pulled Marji in close enough so they were barely an inch apart.

“You’ve provided some sport little savage. Yet, they’ve dulled your claws. Removed your fangs. If you want them sharpened, to taste blood on your tongue, seek me out.”

He tossed the warrior at the elezen and knocked both of them to the ground. Perhaps it would be enough to cut through the haze of entrapment they’ve placed on her. Perhaps not. Yet even the possibility of meeting a worthy beast again was enough to miss his proclaimed end date. He would wait for her, if only to find out if they truly were of similar circumstance.

#ffxivwrite2022 #marji #zenos #tw suicide #mentions of suicide #stormblood spoilers #Ive been thinking alot about what would make marji in particular a point of fascination #so used ffxivwrite as an excuse to work on it #pardon my edge #and a haphazard attempt to write for an npc

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vampirerosearin · 2 years

Text

Say Hi To Larry (Chapter 14 1/2)

Book Title: Widowed Willow Warnings: DO NOT REPOST MY CONTENT! YOU MAY REBLOG BUT DON'T REPOST! Story Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

JENSEN ACKLES PLAYS ALARIC SALTZMAN

──────────────────────────────────────────

Walking up the porch, Amari knocked on the door waiting for the woman she knew was inside to open the door. After a moment, the door opened and an older black woman opened the door, “Amari, what brings you by?”

“Hi, Ms. Shelia.”

──────

“It’s not my fault she’s a bitch!”

Amari could list maybe 5 other places she’d rather be than here, walking with Caroline and Elena towards the school. Her blonde friend was complaining about their Bennett friend because she refused to give a necklace back. Amari didn’t blame her, the necklace was from her ancestor and Grams told her to keep it safe.

“I’m confused, why are you mad at her again?” Questioned the taller teen, she was sure Caroline said something about it before judging the offended look she gave. “I kinda spaced out.”

“She stole my necklace, I gave her it and she refuses to give it back,” The blonde grabbed Amari’s arm, looping her other arm with Elena’s. Elena shook her head in amusement, “Caroline you gave it to her, you told her she could have it. You can’t just take it back.”

The blonde narrowed her eyes at Elena who raised her hands in surrender, “I tried.”

“Okay, listen to me, and listen to me clearly 'cause I’m only gonna say this once,” Amari demands, grabbing Caroline’s face and bending slightly to look her in the eye. “Be the bigger person, you’d hate it if I gave you something and then took it from you, so don’t do that to Bonnie.”

Stubborn, the slightly shorter girl turned to Elena, “Anyway, where’s Stefan?”

Amari looked to the ground, she remembered last night no matter how hard she tried not to. She’d tried getting high and even drunk, which wasn’t a good thing to do but she didn’t want to remember. Just from meeting her last night, Amari knew Lexi was an amazing person. The ringing of the bell broke her from her thoughts, “Bye Care.”

───────

Now in class, Amari noticed Stefan wasn’t there, again. Quietly sighing in disappointment, the curly brunette takes out her sketchbook to bypass the time while waiting for her new History Teacher. A gust of wind blows Amari’s hair into her face, glancing around she notices the windows are closed and there wasn’t any air strong enough to blow in through the door. Glancing around to see if anyone felt it, she sees Bonnie looking freaked out by something. Pulling out her phone, she shoots Bonnie a text.

Did you feel that

The wind? yea

“Morning, everyone,” Looking up, she sees a tall man 6’0 ft man with kind green eyes writing on the board. Alaric Saltzman, this man’s name has salt in it. She heard him sigh before he turned around glancing around at the kids, “Alaric Saltzman, mouthful I know.”

“You’ll probably want to pronounce it ‘Ala-ric’ but it’s actually ‘A-lar-ic’, alright? But you guys can just call me Ric. I’m your new history teacher,” He finishes with a warm grin, and most of the class responded with chuckles or grins of their own. History was going to be a lot better now than before.

───────

“That sounds like stalking and you should get a restraining order.”

Bonnie glares at Amari while Elena turns away to hide the laugh threatening to slip out. Not bothered by the glare, Amari pushes the food around on her tray, mindlessly continuing her rant. “I mean surely there’s a spirit cop or police station, priest station. Elena, you’re laughing but I’m being serious. Bonnie could go poof and become one with the ghost, say hi to Larry the turtle for me.”

“Amari!” Bonnie exclaimed, huffing out a chuckle and glancing between her two friends. “I’m being serious, I think I’m being haunted.”

“Boo.”

Elena shook her head, ignoring Amari’s fingers playing with her hair, and asked, “But why Emily?”

“Grams said she was a powerful witch back in the Civil War days and the necklace is actually a witch's talisman,” Bonnie said, taking the necklace off her neck and placing it on the table.

“And this all started when you got the necklace?” Elena asked, cutting Amari’s sandwich into two triangles.

“I think she’s trying to communicate with me using the necklace,” Bonnie nodded.

“She’s trying to possess you,” Amari declared, nodding her head while picking at her sandwich. She glances up at Bonnie’s terrified face, “Maybe tell your grams about it, I know you haven’t.”

“No,” the younger girl shook her head, “She’s gonna tell me to embrace it, and if what you say is true then I don’t want to embrace it. I want it to stop.”

“OoOoOOoO.” “Shut up, Amari!”

───────

“Hi.”

“Shataki fried mushrooms!” Amari yelled running away from whoever spoke before turning around and seeing a laughing Stefan. “I’m gon shove my foot so far down your throat, you’ll be shitting toenails.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” The blond assured, standing from a bench and walking towards her. Amari shakes her head, eyes trailing around his face, “You’re not staying.”

“No,” he confirmed, and she nodded looking down before looking back up. “Is Damon, you know?”

“No, I stopped myself before I could do it.” Stefan shook his head, smiling when she sighed in relief, she shuffled in place for a moment before breaking the comfortable silence, “You’re leaving leaving?”

“No, not yet,” he responded, Amari huffed rolling her eyes and slinging her bag on the ground. “Why?”

“I’m gonna back off and keep my distance, it’s the right thing to do,” Stefan replied with a shrug of his shoulders causing Amari the glare at him, “Back off from school? Or Elena and me?”

Sighing, Stefan shrugs avoiding her eyes as he spoke up, “Be angry, it’ll be easier.”

“Yeah, easier for you,” Amari glared at him, stepping forward until he was stuck between her and the bench table. “If you think you leaving is gonna protect me and Elena, then you’re a fucking idiot.”

“But then again, it’s you so I guess I should expect you to do something stupid,” She tilts her head, seeing him frown she gives him a small smile. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she hugs him close. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Stefan said, his head resting on her shoulder before lifting it to smile at her. He felt her drop her arm and reach down to grab her bag and walk away, “Bye, Sunshine.”

“Bye, Bambi.”

───────

“Hello, Damon.”

The raven-haired vampire frowned in irritation, turning away from an uncomfortable Bonnie and towards a smirking Amari. “Hi, asshole.”

“I thought I told you to leave my friends alone.” Tilting her head, Amari raised a brow and watched as Damon nodded his head side to side. “Wanna repeat of what happened when you bust into my house?”

“Not really,” Damon glared at Bonnie before disappearing, Amari walks around her friend's car to the passenger backseat. “Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

“What?”

“To my house, we’re going to my house. Holy, we need to have a movie night.”

───────

“He’s dangerous, Elena. God knows what he would’ve done if Mari wasn’t there,” Bonnie spoke, driving them home, Elena shook her head as she looked up from examining Amari’s English homework. “You need to stay as far away from him as possible.”

“I thought we already established that when he hurt Care and broke into our house,” Amari spoke from the back seat, she was half paying attention and half doing her algebra homework. “I fucking hate this, I’m boxing whoever added letters to math.”

Amari slid to the side, almost slamming her head on the door and drawing a line across her paper. Bonnie had swerved the car to the right, parking it beside a field. “Well damn Bonnie!”

Bonnie climbed out of the car, mumbling an apology, she yanked the necklace off her neck and threw it into the field before climbing back into the car. Amari leaned forward, her brows raised as far as they could go, “You okay, baby?”

“Now I am,” Bonnie answered, giving her friends a grin, shifting her braids out of her face as she sighed in relief, “Can’t believe I didn’t do that sooner.”

“Aren’t you worried what your grams is gonna say?” Elena asked, handing Amari her homework and taking the algebra homework, huffing when she sees the giant line.

“Grams isn't the one being haunted by a 150-year-old ghost, now is she?”

“Fair, but knowing her, she’d probably find a way to set it on fire and kill it again,” Amari spoke, chuckling at the snort from her friends.

Now driving slowly, Bonnie glanced back at Amari, “Grams told me you went by her house last night. I guess I was sleep, I would’ve come down and spoke.”

“It’s fine,” Amari reassured, placing her Art project rubric in her book bag. Elena glanced back, handing her Algebra homework to her, “What’d you even go over for?”

Movements slowing to a stop, Amari thought about an answer. She could tell them the truth or she could lie, she chose the former. “Well, I needed help with what happened yesterday.”

───────Flashback───────

Inside Shelia’s house, Amari sits in the living room waiting for her to come back with tea. “You have a lovely home, Ms. Shelia. I miss coming over.”

Hearing a close chuckle, Amari turns her head and sees the older woman placing a tray with tea on the coffee table. “I remember you chasing the girls around my house. Even though you knew you might have an asthma attack, you still tried to play with them. Always making sacrifices.”

Amari smiled, looking down into the cup of tea. She looks up when Shelia sits next to her, “What’s wrong, dear?”

“Yesterday, something happened… to my friend,” Amari started, placing the cup down and playing with her fingers. Feeling the dark-skinned woman rubbing her back, she continued. “Right before it happened, I heard someone tell me to help her, but there was no one around.”

“When I went outside, I saw her-” Shifting in her seat, Amari leans her head into her hands. “I was too late. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I have a feeling I know what’s going on,” Grams said, smiling when Amari glanced at her. She sighed softly, running her fingers through the teen's hair. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, I know Bonnie told you about her and I being witches. I’ll see if I can find something in my grimore.”

Sheila wrapped her arm around Amari, pulling her into her side and leaning their heads together, “I’ll try to find anything I can. I’ll reach out to some old friends if I have to.”

─────Flashback Ends──────

“So, grams is helping you find out what’s up with you?” Bonnie asked, pulling into their neighborhood while glancing at Elena who was staring off into space. Amari shrugged, looking out the window and sighing, “Yeah, she told me not to get my hopes up though. She didn’t want me to be disappointed if she couldn’t find anything.

“Well, I’ll help her find something,” Bonnie promised, looking in the mirror to look Amari in the eye. Elena turned around to smile at her as well, “I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do, but I’ll be here for you either way..”

Giving her friends a smile, Amari turns away a few seconds after they look away. She sighs as she slowly rubs her stomach, it was growling, loud. She’s surprised the pair in the front hadn’t heard it, she’d just have to eat something small when they got home.

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psijic-toast · 2 years

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FFXIVwrite 3: Temper

Ao3 Link if you’d rather read it there! [Cw adult Language... I think] T’ahria didn’t know what Fray was getting at, sending her down to Thanalan at a time like this. She had explained that she was in a similar position to him, right? “Hey, the local authorities of that area want my head on a pike, just like the temple knights wanted yours”. She had told him leaving Coerthas would be a bad Idea.

So, by Menphina, why did he tell her to, and, By Azeyma, why did she listen.

Even without the looming threat of false charges and punishment, she had zero enthusiasm for this trip. She had only just acclimated to the Ishgardian cold, and was now roasting in the Thanalan sun. Her armour did little to help, only being a hindrance, leading her to shuck off what she could; which meant her greaves, cuisses and sabatons clanked about in her pack, irritating her just as much as the bugs.

It can’t much worse than this at least.

“You there! Halt!”

Warden give me strength

Briefly, she wondered how she didn’t spot them; Their blue jackets and hats stuck out like sore thumbs. They appeared to be manning a checkpoint, set up at the crossing between Sandgate and Broken Water. Three Crystal braves took note of her, an Elezen, a Lalafell and a Hyur on the younger side, possibly a teen.

She didn’t recognise any of them, hadn’t met them in person perhaps. Which was good, as while she had styled herself differently -hair dyed, cut and styled, eye patch to hide her echo-touched iris, plate mail in place of a woollen doublet- she didn’t want to test her disguise against familiar eyes.

“What can I do for you, gents?”

“We’re taking record of all who pass this point” The elezen was the one to approach her. In one gloved hand he held a clipboard, in the other a pen. “Please state your name”

“Dawn Lhezenjy” the lie rolled out easily, pre-determined and practised.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Gridania”

“What’s your purpose in Thanalan?”

“I’m meeting my instructor just outside Little Ala Mhigo”

He scribbled all her answers down efficiently, seemingly mulling them over for a moment before nodding. T’ahria took it as a sign to move on, only to be stopped by the Hyur man holding a stack of papers out to her.

“Do you recognize any of these people?”

They were wanted posters. A thick stack of them too. Y’shtola , Thancred, Yda, Papalymo, Minfillia, Hoary, Coultenet, Alphinaud, even Tataru. Her real name was in the stack too, though the picture was of a woman she didn’t recognise: A Miqo’te girl with black hair and two matching blue eyes. Briefly she wondered if she had an ally in the printing press, aiding her by keeping her appearance a secret -or if her name truly did shield her so much.

“None of them, really. Think I saw him at the Quicksand once, but that was a while back”

“These are the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, they are wanted for treason against the Sultanate, and the Eorzean Alliance as a whole” the elezen started explaining. T’ahria held her tongue. “All are considered armed and dangerous. If you see them, it’s advised for you to keep your distance and alert the closets Braves squad you can find”

“I’ll keep that in mind-”

“Good for nothing Scions” The hyur kicked off, voice low, like he didn’t want to be overheard, but not low enough. “Dirty fucking traitors, the lot of them. Probably all on the Imperial payroll”

“One of them was revealed to be an Imperial Spy already, wasn't he?” The lalafell now joined in. “And they didn’t do anything about him! How much more obvious could it be?”

“I heard that warrior of light absorbed Primals just like that ultima weapon thing did. That’s how she got so close with all the higher ups; She tempered them”

“Here I just assumed she was sleeping with ‘em. I mean, how do you know the Ultima weapon was even a thing? They could have just made it up! Blew up that Garlean base to hide the evidence”

“That’s enough! Both of you!” The elezen finally cut in. “I was at that battle. I saw the weapon. The Scions served us well then. But they are a power-hungry lot who only want Eorzea for themselves. We are lucky that Captain Ilberd managed to put a stop to it before the Sultana got - Ma’am are you alright?”

No, was the correct answer. Her blood was boiling; She didn’t know whether to yell, cry, or just laugh at the absurdity of it all. She wanted to scream at them - Thancred wasn’t a spy, she didn’t temper people, they just wanted to protect Eorzea - she just wanted to help people! Ilberd was lying!

“No” T’ahria answered. “I think the heat is getting to me. I’m still not use to my armour”

“In that case, you would take a rest” He moved a hand to her shoulder -it burned where he touched her- and directed her gaze over to the shade provided by the outcrop. “Feel free to have some water from our waterskins. The crate’s just there. Someone will come check on you in a bit”

Ten minutes later, when a Brave went to check on her, Dawn Lhezenjy had already moved on, and a large slit had been cut down every single waterskin in the box.

#FFXIV #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #T'ahria Lasa #prompt 3: temper

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ben-the-hyena · 2 years

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So I have the headcanon that like for Pierre and Pierrot and le Gros and Petit Gros in real life le Teigneux and Petit Teigneux are 2 separate beings, father and son too, and it just happens the son looks and acts similarly to his father, and is the one we see in real life being part of the kids who listen to Maestro and attend Peter's class, he just imagines himself as an adult looking like his dad in the stories he hears or his dad himself when the 2 are featured. And even if we never see a Petit Nabot in the stories we can imagine since there is a kid looking like him in real life among those listening to Maestro and Pierre and imagining himself as an adult that he is different from le Nabot and could be his son even if in canon he has no kid, so like for Petit Teigneux he alternates between imagining himself grown and his dad

And it's funn because last night I has a dream that respectey HC and actually opened my eyes on a ship I actually did consider before shrugging it off because canon contrasted with it but now holy fucking shit it can fit

So in the dream Psi and Pierrot as kids have a kid crush on each other and as teens and young adults dated like we see in Il était une fois... la vie. Problem is Petit Nabot also crushed on Psi but secretly and just fantasizing only once like in that episode in which he does as Narive Americans (which had me root for him but alas) but that aside just played bullies with Petit Teigneux (who I suppose has a crush on Petite Pierrette since he often tries to woo her or Pierrette as adults in stories and is happily surprised when he gets his cheek kissed once). But the crush would NOT fade with age, on the contrary with puberty it woumd intensify with actual love and desire but also anger since she was with Pierrot. But in the dream, since after all one rarely stays together forever from childhood, Psi and Pierrot part ways to if I remember well live their own lives (new studies, or new work, or moving out). I suppose Petit Nabot JUMPS on his chance and moves in the town she moves in ("OH HI PSI IT'S BEEN LONG I DIDN'T SEE YOU THERE HAHA WHAT A COINCIDENCE) and perhaps Petit Teigneux made fun of him openly ("HAHA YOU SIMP"). I don't remember the details, just a few flashes but it was like Psi and him being the only 2 people from their childhoods knowing each other here they would instinctively see each other more (a reflex we have in an unknown place even if we weren't friends, humans love familiar faces), I think I even remember them cheering with 2 beers at a bar in a party, I suppose that far from the influence of Petit Teigneux and determined to please her NOT the good guy way but genuinely he would be less tricky (plus again it feels like neityer him or Petit Teigneux nor le Nabot and Teigneux are evil and just are depending of who they are as antagonists of authority figures in stories they imagine), and even if I don't remember well how she would end up falling in love back it does happen and himself could hardly believe it since he is used to be a karma slapstick antagonist in that universe real life included lol, if I remember well they even hug at some point. And something I do remember well ! A flashforward of him older like his dad is in real life and stories, waiting in a cold rainy street wearing a coat and mindlessly scrolling his phone before being joined by a 13 or 14 years old girl with a warm coat too, a purse/bag and looking like a FUCKING MIX OF HIM AND PSI (pretty with petite face traits, a small nose, manga eyes and dark skin like her, a red nose, pointy red hair and short like him) who seemed to be in a hurry as if late or knowing he had been waiting for her "hi dad !" "Ah, you're here." he puts his phone back in his coat, pats her head a little and holds her back as they go on with their day. Meaning that my dream fucking made them a fankid before I would even decide to ship it or not. Not precising if at this point they were married or divorced or never were married and just dated and broke up or if still dating but one thing is sure, they had a daughter

And while yesterday I'd have LAUGHED at you if you told me I'd ship it one day given how it comes out of nowhere (well not exactly out of nowhere he does crush on her in that one episode) and since she is officially with Pierrot and since it is quite cringey to imagine this ugly bastard and this pretty girl in some... situations (GEE THANK YOU DREAM I DID NOT NEED TO PICTURE HIM PLEASURING HER WITH HIS MOUTH YET YOU DID ANYWAY I DIDN'T MENTION IT EARLIER BECAUSE I'VE BEEN STRUGGLING AGAINST IT ALL DAY NOT TO SEE IT AGAIN SO NOW PEOPLE MUST SUFFER LIKE I AM I SAID SO), my dream fucking offered me a fanfic that fit my preexisting headcanon to make it work, even for how it ended with her and Pierrot without ruining their ship either. I love it when my brain does that and as much as I FOUGHT not to give in, it was too cute (THATSCENEASIDE) and too detailled/complete to ignore. Even a fanchild, can you imagine ?

So I am Bobo the clown and sorry to admit and hating myselg for being so weak and coming up with the weirdest ships no one else will agree with, I have a new crackpairing : Psi X (Petit) Nabot

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i-cant-sing · 3 years

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Platonic Yandere RE8: TRP part 5

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Summary: Platonic yandere RE 8 characters for a teen reader, who is trying to save her family and also not trying to have a mental breakdown every 5 minutes.

"Okay, did you check the top floor?" You asked Handsome, who nodded in reply.

"Hmm, well I cleared the ground the floor. And I don't wanna go to the basement alone. So, let's go- actually, you go first. I don't have a weapon except for this... sack with rocks." You said, shaking the burlap sack you found and filled it with heavy pebbles and rocks.

Hey, its better than having no weapon.

You followed Handsome down into the damp basement, probably due to the lake, and immediately covered your nose at the mouldy smell. A few lightbulbs poorly illuminated the basement, the corridors down here were long.

Perhaps it was the mould that seemed to grow more the deeper you guys went, or more likely the depleting oxygen down there, but you were once again washed over with the feeling of impending doom that was about to bitch slap you and Handsome soon.

You kept your eyes peeled as you looked for any signs of Rose or Ethan. Unfortunately, you didn't find anything.

Well, not anything. You did find... someone?

You and Handsome stared at the big mass of... honestly, you're not sure but you guess... mold? Yeah, probably a big mass of mold that was sobbing in one corner of the room, which was decorated with a couple of old movie posters and some damp books that had green stuff growing at the corners.

The thing was- well it was sobbing like a man, and he was so grief stricken that he failed to notice you and Handsome standing there for the last 5 minutes. You nudged Handsome and signalled him to move along quietly- better to avoid trouble than to face it before necessary.

Alas, the odds are not in your favour, because in the next second, Handsome slipped on the slimy mold and fell on his ass, startling himself as his drill buzzed off loudly.

And if the situation wasn't potentially life threatening, you would've laughed at him. Smart cyborg lol.

You knew you had alarmed the sobbing guy, but you still turned around slowly for the dramatic effect.

"Huh-?! What- who are you?!" The moldy guy said, his eyes wide as he looked at you and Handsome. You were about to reply when you looked at what he was holding- a pink blanket, much like the one Rose was swaddled in.

"You- where is Rose? What did you do to her?" Your eyes were fixed on the blanket. The thing began tearing up again. "I- I didn't do anything! I was just keeping her safe for Mother Miranda!"

"The crow bitch?! Keeping Rose safe for her? She's going to sacrifice her!"

"Crow bitch?" he gasped, before pointing at you. "You're the girl who attacked mother! How dare you!"

"How dare I? Listen here buddy- I've been attacked by several creatures beyond my understanding, I have come near to death many times, I have been taking a shit in the woods for the past couple of days with my ass freezing in the snow, risking hypothermia, and I'm high on pain meds right now- so yes, I do have a whole lot of courage to beat the shit out of anyone who's trying to hurt my sister, no matter what species they are."

The guy cowered at your booming voice, but you didn't care, as you walked slowly towards him, swinging your sack of rocks at him threatninngly. "I'm gonna ask you this only once. Where. Is. Rose?"

The guy fell onto his old chair and broke down crying. "I don't know! We were having such a good time here- she even liked all the movies we watched. But then that pest- Ethan Winters- he took her away from me!"

Wait- Ethan? Dad was here?

You snapped your fingers in front of him to get him to focus on you. "You said Ethan Winters- where'd he go? Was he alright? Did he say anything about me?"

But he just shook his head. "No, I don't know where he went. I- I tried to stop him. But he took her away! Mother is gonna be so disappointed in me- oh god, she's gonna get rid of me, isn't she-" The guy rambled on but you were focused on the fact that Ethan had gotten Rose- which meant he was going to come back for you and leave this village.

"-and then he swooped in and took the flask containing her arms-"

What?

You looked at him confused. "Flask? What are talking you about?"

The guy slapped his hand over his mouth as he shook his head. "N-nothing!"

Yeah, right.

"Handsome." You called, eyes fixated on the creature before you. "Listen here...?"

"S-salvatore Moreau."

"Salvatore Moreau. This is my friend, Handsome. And he's going to drill holes into you until you tell me the truth- oh and believe me, I'll fucking know if you're lying to me. These pain meds have awoken a genius in me, so... get talking."

Moreau looked at you, then at Handsome, then back at your dead serious face, before he began wailing again.

"God! I- I don't know- Mother Miranda gave us- gave us all a flask each, containing crystallised parts of Rose- and she gave me the arms! Alcina was lucky! She got the head flask!"

Arms? Head? Wait-

"Don't- don't tell me you chopped up Rose!" Your face went pale as Moreau nodded. "Well, yeah. That's how we're supposed to protect her from Ethan-"

"Protect her? YOU KILLED HER!"You bellowed, making his quiver in his seat as he violently shook his head.

"No! You've got it all wrong! She's still alive-!'

"You chopped her head and limbs! How the hell is she still alive!"

"Because she's not a normal human!"

Not normal? Heisenberg said the same thing- something about her being a vessel for crow bitch's dead daughter.

"Tell me everything. Starting from Miranda and the lords and this village and everything that's wrong here."

20 minutes later and you fell on one of the old chairs with a thud, trying to process the pandora box that Moreau had opened up at you.

So far, these were the facts that he'd told you:

Rose was still alive, and Ethan was running around the village collecting her parts to reunite her- at the Ceremony Site.

Crow bitch is gonna sacrifice Rose and she actually does have some weird powers, as do all the lords.

And all of this was 100% not a bad acid trip or hallucinations caused by your pain meds. Because they were wearing off and you were definitely starting to feel the pain from the lycan attack. Yeah, fuck you Heisenberg.

"Fucking hell." You whispered under your breath.

You closed your eyes as you leaned your head back against the wall.

What do I do now? What do I do?

"Do you know where Ethan went?"

"N-no. I- I swear, I don't know."

"Well, did he say anything?"

"Not really- just that he was gonna get Rose back!"

Hmm, so he's probably going to all lords to get all of her fragments. So, I should follow his trail too. He's already been at Heisenberg's factory, and you definitely didn't see any flask at Beneviento's estate, and he's already taken the flask from Moreau... so, that leaves Dimitrescu.

With a huff, you pushed yourself off the chair. "Lord Moreau." You got his attention. "We're leaving now. Do you plan to fight us?"

The man shook his head. "No- but if you don't mind me asking, w-why do you care so much about Rose?"

You looked around his room and replied. "She's my sister."

"You're a Winter too?!" You nodded.

"Maybe- maybe I should kill you. Yes, that- that would please Mother greatly-"

"Why do you care so much about that bitch?"

Moreau tilted his head. "B-because she created us. Made us into what we are- one big family!"

"Yeahhh....I don't think she really cares about anyone of you guys."

"What? No- no, she does care about us!" Moreau shook his head. "I mean, sure she doesn't invite me to family meetings a lot. And perhaps I have overheard her say that I am an idiot and- and useless and a burden and-" He looked at you ashamed. "But that's because I am. I do make a lot of stupid mistakes, and I am- not exactly easy on the eye."

"Dude... stop that."

"Huh?"

"I love self depreciating as much as the next guy. But you're just plain out insulting yourself." You plopped back in the chair. "Look, this woman, she does not care about you. At all. And I can tell you now, she's just using you for her own means. She's gonna dispose you off at the first chance she gets."

"No- no. She won't do that. And even if she does, she probably has a good reason too!"

"Would she do the same for you?" Moreau looked perplexed. "Would she put herself in danger for you? Isn't that what family is supposed to do?"

"Well, she can't- she's the strongest one of us-"

"What do any of you get from killing Rose? Miranda gets her daughter back, but you guys? What do you get?"

"Eva will be a part of us- a new member of our family!"

"No, Lord Moreau. Once Eva comes around, its just gonna be her and Miranda on one side, and all the lords on the other." You got up again, bending in front of him. "If she really considered you guys family, why would she put you all at risk for Eva? Aren't you guys enough for her?"

"I- I am- maybe I am not good enough for her?"

"No, you are. You're just chasing after her impossible standards, seeking her approval. And you don't need to do any of that." You ran a hand through your hair. "Look at what she's done to you. All for her own selfish reasons. Don't you have your own dreams? Something that you want?"

You sighed. "Lord Moreau, there's nothing wrong with putting yourself before anyone else. Its not selfish." You looked at the shelf behind that contained all these movies- all love genre. "Don't you want love? What? You don't think you deserve it?"

Moreau slumped his shoulders. "Who would love me?"

"A lot of people, but why don't you start with yourself. I mean sure, you don't exactly look like Prince Charming, but there's no use crying over things you cant change. And judging by your movie collection, you're definitely a romantic dude, who wears his heart on his sleeve. I know people judge someone by their looks, even I do, but appearances can be deceptive! I already have a feeling that you're a very interesting person to talk to, and all you need is a little more confidence in yourself- and some new clothes, and a whole lot of air freshener. The ladies may not be lining up outside, but I can guarantee that you'd feel a lot better about yourself. And who doesn't love a confident guy- confident, not egoistic, the line is very fine."

For the first time since you arrived, Moreau actually cracked up a smile. "Look at that, you have a good smile too. Tell you what- do you have wifi here?" You weren't actually expecting him to nod. "Yeah, Heisenberg got it for us, and this big TV- which is smart, according to him, on my birthday." You chuckled at his attempt at explaining smart TV. "Okay. Give me the remote." Moreau and Handsome watched you press a couple of buttons, eyes fixed on the screen in front of you.

"And... there!"

"What? What did you do?" Moreau asked, worried that you'd messed with his video player or something. "I gave you my Netflix account!"

"Huh? Netflix? What's that?"

Once you'd explained the streaming service, and how he can watch a whole new selection of movies and shows, Moreau's eyes widened in surprise. The world had really come far in technology!

"Thank you- but why did you do that?"

You shrugged as you began walking towards the door. "So that you could discover modern romance, and explore other genres. I already added some of my favourites on the list. Enjoy, my dude."

Moreau thanked you again, and you left with Handsome.

"Lord Moreau?" He hummed. "Its okay to be selfish."

And with that, you and Handsome left the reservoir, leaving the moldy man in deep thought as he watched this movie called "Twilight".

It was night by the time you and Handsome had left the reservoir. The weather was getting worse by the hour, and your pain meds had completely worn off by now. Handsome had graciously offered to carry you and you tried to walk on your own first, but then one of your ribs poked something inside you and you fell on your knees, clutching your side as you struggled to breathe without it feeling like your lungs were being scratched by razor blades.

Now you were piggy back riding on Handsome's back, one eye on the map and the other on the path in front of you.

"I think we should reach the Dimitrescu castle by morning, so like in... 5 hours?" you said, more to yourself than to Handsome. "I just hope that we don't run into more trouble."

After another hour through the snowy path, the night had finally gotten darker, and the moon was the only thing that was barely illuminating your way. You had fallen silent, opting to keep your eyes and ears open to see if anymore lycans were being sent your way.

But instead of lycans, you caught sight of a very familiar looking carriage that had lanterns dangling around its side. You merely pointed in its direction and Handsome was quick to walk towards it.

"Ahh, Miss Winters! I've been waiting for you!" Duke exclaimed, watching you get off Handsome's back and trudge over to him. "Yeah" you winced, "how'd you know I was gonna be here?"

Duke grinned. "I keep track of all my loyal customers. Besides, I have already made a bag for you!" He said, handing you a black backpack.

"Yeah? What's in it?"

"Everything you'd need for your journey ahead! No weapons though."

You smiled lazily. "hmm, I'm intrigued." You pulled out the coin pouch Heisenberg had given you. "Well, how much for the bag?"

"2 silvers!"

You handed him the coins before looking at all the guns he had behind him.

"Duke." He hummed. "I need good guns, like really good guns with high damage and a lot of rounds. And also some scopes. A knife and shotguns too. Oh and can you add some bandages and painkillers?"

Duke showed you a couple of guns, and some of them were very expensive, but you had a feeling you were going to need it. They were kinda heavy too, so you made Handsome carry them too.

"And these are the painkillers for you." He said, handing you a bottle similar to the one Heisenberg had given you. "Be careful though, Miss Winters. These are very strong." You nodded, before popping one in your mouth.

You looked at your coin pouch again. You still had some coins to spend.

"So... you got some new stuff?"

Duke thought for a moment before gasping and nodding as he pulled out a burlap sack, dropping its contents in front of you, one of them immediately catching your eye.

"I'll take this. And that too."

Duke grinned. "Interesting choices, Miss Winters."

You nodded. "Oh and for my friend here, I want to buy some clothes."

Duke looked at Handsome and his drill arm, before pulling out a large shirt. "Well, this is one of new my shirts. But they may be a little big on him."

"You got a needle and thread?" Duke nodded. "Then give me those with the shirt."

"On the house, Miss Winters." Duke said, happy as he'd already made a fortune today.

"Thanks." You nodded before putting the shirt in your backpack, along with other purchases.

"Lets go, Handsome."

You both continued your journey, hoping to reach the Dimitrescu castle before you freeze out in the cold.

After walking for another two hours, you decided it was time for a break, and the medicine you took earlier was making you feel tired too. You both found a little wooden cabin in the woods, and after checking out, you found it was completely abandoned.

Handsome lit up the fireplace before joining you on the rackety sofa, where you were looking through the bag Duke had made for you.

"So... we've got some nuts, water, chocolate and- garlic?" You said, pulling out multiple bulbs of garlic, all tied together by a strings. "What am I supposed to do with so much garlic? Its not like he gave any other ingredients to make a dish with."

Everything you'd need for your journey ahead!

Dukes words rang through your sleepy head, making you chuckle.

"Yeah, like I'd need garlic to fight off someone with my bad breath. Or maybe impress someone with my cooking skills."

You chuckled to yourself before opening up a nut mix, savouring the salty flavour that you washed down with water. You offered Handsome some chocolate too, but he shook his head. "Alright, you'll get your solar power soon. In like 2-4 hours?"

You sighed before pulling out the shirt you bought for him, and told him to wear it. "Hmm, okay, I got it." You made him take it off again, and Handsome watched with curiosity as you ripped off one of the sleeves, and made him wear it again, then pulled out the thread and needle.

"Just hold still. I'll make the shirt fit you perfectly."

And after 25 minutes, you really did. You clapped your hands and stood back to admire your work.

"Ahh you look so handsome, Handsome!" your eyes twinkled.

Handsome only tilted his head in confusion, still T posing like you'd ask him to while you altered his shirt.

You pulled his arms down and grinned. "You know, with a shower and this shirt, I'm sure your crush is gonna be head over heels for you." As soon as you said that, Handsome blushed slightly and looked away, making you cackle. "Hmm, what's wrong loverrrr boy? Why are you being so shy?" You teased as you tried to make him look at you. "Aww look at you! You're red as a tomato!" He wasn't, he barely had any blood circulating through him, but you continued. "You know what lover boy? I'm gonna kill some more lycans and steal some more shit that I can trade for you. I'm thinking our next purchase for you should be some cologne. Wait no! A RING-" Handsome cut you off by pushing your face away, making you stagger and fall onto the sofa, but you continued to laugh.

"I promise you, Handsome! After I find Rose and Ethan, I'm gonna make your crush fall in love with you. But let me take a nap first."

After resting for another hour, you both were back on track and with some energy now, you both reached the Dimitrescu castle fairly quickly. As you watched the castle from behind the woods, you told Handsome the plan, handing him some gear.

"Okay, Handsome. This is what we're going to do. Our main objective is to find Ethan and Rose or well her flask. If you find either of them, do not harm them. If you find Rose, pick her up and bring her to me. Even if you... find flasks containing parts of her. If you find Ethan, you give him this note." You handed him the piece of paper you had written a little message on, telling him that Handsome is a friend and would guide you back to him safely. "I think you know what these are." You said, showing him the ear comms you had bought from Duke. "This is how we're going to communicate. since we're going to split up. If either of us run into trouble, we'll run towards each other. But we have to be stealthy too. Avoid enemies at all if you can, okay?" You both placed the ear comms in and nodded.

You took the new guns you had bought earlier, quickly loading them and putting the extra ammo in your pocket. You placed the scope on and looked through it at the castle's windows, breath hitching as you saw him.

"Dad!"

Fucking finally.

It wasn't long until you had gotten inside the castle, managing to find a way in. "Are you inside yet?" You asked Handsome through the comms, and he groaned in confirmation.

"Alright, you start from the basement. I'll start from the ground floor and work my way up."

You had your rifle slung over your shoulder, knife in your pocket and shotgun in your hand. With a deep breath, you slowly walked up the stairs, eyes peeled for danger.

After clearing the ground floor, you walked up the stairs to the first floor. As soon as you heard voices, you immediately snuck into one of the nearby rooms, holding your breath as you waited for whoever it was to pass by.

You looked around the large room, the furniture was bigger than you'd ever seen. Everything in that room was far bigger than a normal sized human would need, even the hairbrush.

You were still looking around when you heard voices again, and this time they were coming towards the room. Without thinking much, you dove under the bed, just in time for the door to slam open.

You watched from under the bed as 3 women in black robes drag in- ETHAN!

Your eyes widened at the sight of your father- they had dragged him in with a sickle embedded in his hand. You can't even imagine the amount of pain he's in.

"What a weakling!" One of them said.

"And ugly too!" Another said.

"Doesn't matter. Its his blood we want." Blood? Wait, don't tell me their vamp-

"Darlings~ What do we have here?"

Your breath hitched as you saw another lady walk in, but she was so tall that you couldn't even see above her legs from under the bed. You pulled yourself a little closer, careful not to expose yourself.

"Mother! We've brought you a present! Its-"

"Man blood!" One of the girls interrupted the other, and both got into a little bicker, but you were busy watching the shock on your father's face as he looked at the woman in the white dress.

"Hush now, my daughters. You have brought me such a nice gift- Ethan Winters. I see you've escaped my brother's stupid traps."

"Where is Rose?!" He groaned in pain. "Tell me now or I'm gonna kill all of you fucking freaks!"

Dad, dude, what the hell are you doing? Yelling at women who can literally kill you, all while you still have the sickle embedded in your hand! Not to mention you already look like you're halfway into your grave!

"Shut it, man thing!" The tall woman bellowed. "Before I inform Mother Miranda about your whereabouts, I will have a taste." You watched in horror as the woman grabbed Ethan's non injured hand and slit it open with a knife. Ethan yelped and you covered your mouth with your hand, watching as the woman leaned down and licked the blood of hand, before smacking her lips in disgust.

"Ugh. Nothing special." The tall woman, who you have a pretty good guess is Dimitrescu, said as she wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, your father's blood staining it.

"We want a taste too, mother!" One of the smaller women said, but Dimitrescu laughed.

"You will, my Cassandra. But let me call Miranda first. For now, hang him up."

"Yes, mother." The girls said in unison, giggling as they stabbed meat hooks through Ethan's hands before stringing him up, while he yelled in pain.

You felt tears escape your eyes as you watched them hurt your father.

The girls mocked him more before they left with Dimitrescu, promising that they'll be back soon to drain him of all the blood.

What the fuck just happened?

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down from the oncoming panic attack.

Y/n, girl. Calm the fuck down. You need to go and help Ethan before they come back. Now.

Nodding to yourself, you finally rolled out from under the bed, making Ethan look in your direction.

"Wha- Y/n?"

You smiled, wiping the tears out of your eyes.

"Hey, dad."

So, thoughts?

Part 6 is here.

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acrossthewavesoftime · 3 years

Text

Ok, folks, hear me out: (country) dance scenes in novels and period dramas, particularly 18th/early 19th century, miss so many opportunities.

I mean, some have a certain level of authenticity to be sure and the dancing looks great, but there's so much more to dancing than the aesthetically pleasing coordination of several people.

For starters, there is so much hand-holding involved. And eye-contact. Eye-contact galore. Sometimes end up with a partner you don't really know and have never spoken to, but you just harmonise perfectly on the dance floor. And for authors of couples that aren't straight, there are many figures in which the women and/or men of a set dance among themselves- so your romantic couple of lissome ladies or dashing dukes can absolutely have a moment on the dance floor holding hands, even if the social norms of the day dictate they can't officially dance together as a (romantic) couple.

But, what really gobsmacks me is how those pretty melodies the gentlemen in white stockings and ladies in muslin-dresses always end up dancing to are never named. ...And some titles are just... something else.

Here are some of my favourites:

Imagine some Regency teens huddled close to the DJ (aka the harpsichord/piano-person), asking them to play Hey ding a ding and they don't seem to know it, to which one of the youngsters tries to explain what tune they mean not by humming it, but by singing the melody to the words of "Hey ding a ding" with their friends either enthusiastically joining in, or shrinking back in embarrassment.

Or:

Captain D— has been an odious, wicked fellow all his life, and is definitively extremely interested in the beauteous Miss H—['s fortune]. The only thing is, Miss H wants nothing to do with him, which is why the only dance she condescends to grant him is this one:

...Then perish, Captain D—.

Or:

Consider Miss C— and Miss M—, who really can only see each other in public because otherwise, their families might suspect they're more than just best friends, which in turn would jeopardise their chances on the marriage-market, which of course their fathers aren't particularly keen on- their little girls are supposed to be wealthy countesses one day after all. Not being able to spend time together alone is really, really hard for them, and in her yearning, Miss C— requests the band to play the following for Miss M—, looking at her with long, meaningful glances as they stand next to each other all lined up for the dance:

As the night progresses, Miss M— has hatched a plan; she requests

...and softly whispers "the library" into Miss C—'s ear as they turn past another dancing.

Or:

imagine a couple having a bitter fall-out. Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so had a fight over whether to colour-coordinate their outfits for the evening, which has alas sparked the fire of a dispute as old as their marriage (possibly some decades at this point): Mr. So-and-so never listens (says Mrs. So-and-so), and Mrs. So-and-so never compromises (says Mr. So-and-so). They've ridden the carriage to the party in silence, and as soon as they arrive, they alternate putting in requests:

They're both fully aware what the respective other requested, but as much as they want to be angry with another, they never really can remain so for long, and so, the tune of their requests changes:

Or:

The Duke of W— has espied his lover, the Earl of R— in the crowd. The hour is late, the company is slowly dispersing. As they 'accidentally' brush past each other, the Duke hums the following melody before waiting meaningfully by the garden door, where the shadows of the night shall veil any and all things that may happen there...

I got those gems from Volumes 1-4 of Thompson's Compleat Collection of 200 Favourite Country Dances perform'd at Court, Bath, Tunbridge & all Public Assemblies with proper Figures or Directions to each tune set for the Violin, German-Flute & Hautboy, dating to ca. between 1750 and 1780.

Maybe somebody else would like to take a look at them- be it to bemusedly study titles, try playing one of them, or get inspired for a story of their own...

#historical dancing #ballroom dancing #historic dancing #dancing #18th cenrury #19th century #regency #georgian #1700s #1800s #jane austen #nonsense #fun #history #creative writing #writing inspiration

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literally-inlove · 2 years

Text

Okay. I'm a bit bored so I've looked at prompts that I could write about and found one. I hope you like it!

(I also have the strong urge to write a Shousuke Komi oneshot but I need a prompt. Requests for him are greatly appreciated! <33)

Socially Incapable

Denki Kaminari x GN!Reader

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Summary: The reader has a resting bitch-face that makes it look like they hate everybody. Do they even want any friends? Do they want to be a hero? That was something Denki wanted to find out. Turns out, they're actually... Super nice?

➛Tenya Iida version!!

➛Tamaki Amajiki version!!

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Fear.

Whenever someone looked up at you, all they could feel was fear.

Your face was always in a cold glare, almost like you didn't want to be spoken to. And whenever the teachers spoke to you, you gave the same look. You had to be crazy to disrespect Mr Aizawa (Not like he has the same look).

There were a few people that tried to befriend you. They either got ignored or got scared when you opened your mouth. In the end, most of them ran away before you could even say anything. It was always like this.

Everybody thought you were a delinquent. You didn't like anybody. Your grades were probably bad. And you most likely did drugs. That wasn't the case however.

You're just a normal student attending Yuuei High School with perfect grades and looking after your sick grandmother. Your mother was scary herself but actually a massive sweet tooth. Your father owns a cafe which you work part-time in. Over all, life is pretty good.

As you walked past, everyone watch as your hair did soft bounces while framing your face perfectly. "Funny how they look after their skin and hair. Huh?" Mina sweat dropped while whispering to the group.

The pinkette was heading to class with her three buddies, Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari. All four of them together were complete morons. They all shared a single braincell that they don't even use. Except for one time... Do NOT interact with (Y/n).

Something about how they would get thrown to next year if they interacted with the first year. They knew that the teen was "bad news" cause even some of the higher up students at the school were afraid. This kid owned the school. It was their playground.

"I've always wondered where their friends are at though." The electric boy tilted his head, imagining what their friends would look like. Just a bunch of motorcycle guys with scars? Fat old dudes? The entire "Baku-squad" had their own wild imagination.

A shiver went down each of their spines as they thought about what their appearances would be. Eijiro shrugged it off and said, "C'mon. We're gonna miss first period. We don't want to miss that."

The group agreed and went on their way, with Denki staring in the direction (Y/n) went. Now that he thought about it, did they even have friends at Yuuei?

When they entered the classroom, Kaminari announced something to his group in a loud tone. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the class heard it too. "I'm gonna talk to (Y/n)!!"

Silence. Everyone was just staring at him until Jirou put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen. I get it. You're dumb. But are you insane?!"

"Yeah. You're gonna get yourself killed, man." Sero butted in, agreeing with the musical girl. Kaminari watched as the closed nodded in unison, urging the boy not to do it. But alas, he is stupid.

So he went to do it anyways.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Denki surprisingly did some observations. He noticed that you left school after most of the students went home. But... Why?

Turning the corner he bumped into someone with purple hair. "Oh. Hey Hitoshi! What are you up to?"

The sleep-deprived first year sighed before answering back. "Had to help out a classmate with taking paperwork to the teacher's lounge. They offered to do it themselves but Vlad King insisted I helped them."

Right. While he was still in class 1-C, Shinso was now considered to be a pretty big deal. Almost beating Deku and his quirk was super strong when put to good use.

"Really? Who?" Not like it mattered. Kaminari knew quite a few people in his year level so maybe it's someone he's familiar with.

What he didn't expect was- "Oh. It was (Y/n)." The reserve course student pointed behind him, indicating that they're still back at the teacher lounge. "Sorting the papers now I think."

The blonde stared at the male with shock in his eyes. That teen was... Being helpful?

He thanked Hitoshi and ran off to the teacher's lounge to catch the student walking out. "(Y/n)!!" They looked up and met his electric yellow eyes. "What's up, buddy?"

They just stared at the hero course student, wondering why he was talking to them. They looked around, seeing if anybody made him do a dare. They looked at him and just shrugged before walking away.

He waved at them while running and slinging his arm over their shoulder. "C'mon. You and me should hang out. You know... Like friends do!" (Y/n) turned to him with shock. "I've noticed you walking the halls alone.. You must not have many friends, huh?"

The student looked down before shaking their head. "Great then!" They heard him exclaim. "Guess I'll be your first!" His smiled shined to them. They always thought their face was scary but maybe... They only need one person to feel special.

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

That day, they exchanged numbers and hung out over the weekend. They went to the park and then the next weekend, they went to the beach. The boy found out that (Y/n) didn't really have many friends to begin with.

But really, they're just a big softie with a scary face.

And then, came school once again. In the cafeteria, Kaminari sat with the group he normally sits with. Sero was blabbering on about how his favorite gamer got canceled again, and nobody was really paying attention.

That was until Mina brought something up. "Hey, Denki." All eyes went to her. "How come you haven't been hanging out with us lately?"

"Oh. Been hanging out with (Y/n)." Everybody just stared at him with confusion. This guy really was dumb enough to talk to them.

Bakugou then spoke up with, "Your definition of hanging out according to (Y/n) is probably invasion of privacy."

That was not true at all. A lot of the times they hang out was the 1-C "delinquent" inviting him to hang out.

He went over to their place after school a couple of times and met their milf mother and their dilf father. Now he can see where they got their looks from. (Y/n) parents were extremely nice and let him stay the night whenever he wants.

He later found out that (Y/n) is a hard worker to look after their grandmother who is sick in hospital at the moment.

"Like you would know that, Kacchan! You've never even spoken to them yourself!" A shiver ran up Kami's spine when Katsuki gave him a glare with his cold blood-shot eyes.

Kirishima tapped Denki's shoulder. "Dude. For all you know, they are planning your demise. You are pretty dumb." Picking up his cutlery, the red-head went back to eating his food. Not knowing the blonde was staring at him dumbfounded.

"No. They're not."

"Dude. Their dad probably owns a drug store." Sero laughed.

Denki pointed the ravenette. "Aha! There! You said probably! But it's not true. According to you, it is. But it's not."

While the group were having a small quarrel between them, they didn't notice the 1-C student approaching. All the other students shrunk down into the chairs or backed away, seeing as they had a white plastic bag with them.

Eijiro eventually saw them coming towards their table and hit Denki. "Dude. They're coming to kill you." He shook the electric boy by the collar and shook him.

(Y/n) stopped at the end of the table where Kaminari was at as he was finally released from the Kiri's grasp. They didn't really look at anyone else at the table. Only Kaminari.

His entire friend group started sweating, praying this guy was going to make it out alive. "What's up, (Y/n)?" He spoke to the student so casually.

Carefully, they leaned into the bag they were carrying. The tension in the air rose as the pulled something out. A small box. "I accidentally made more than what I had to at my part-time job in my dad's cafe. You should come by and visit some time. I sure my dad would love to give you a discount!" A smile was planted on their face.

Everyone surrounding the table didn't know what to say. Part-time job... At a cafe?

When the blonde opened the box, he saw oreo cupcakes. "Sweet!" He fistbumped the air before asking where (Y/n) normally eats lunch.

"I mostly sit outside under the big tree. It's peaceful out there. Sometimes I feed the birds that come down for my lunch." Okay.. This was weird.

They watched as they waved back to the dumb 1-A student before looking at him. He had his face stuffed in the sweet delicacy before he gave a small smirk. "Should've never judged a book by its cover."

Sero leaned over and tried to steal on before Denki slapped his hand. "Dude! You gotta share!!"

As (Y/n) walked away, a small chuckled left their lips. It wasn't a scary one or an evil one. It was quite soft.

That's what friends feel like..

── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──── ･｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Done! You probably saw that the reader was based off the mc of Toradora. Bro. I love that anime sm. It's so good!!

I do take requests!

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eclairia-monarch · 2 years

Text

Amongst the Dandelion | Diluc X Reader

Living life has been super hard as a depressed anxious Asian but writing has kept me going. BUT WHY CAN’T I WRITE ANYTHING OTHER THAN ANGST-

[Warning] This story is based on events prior to the main events in-game.

Born with a weak body, you grew up only within Mondstadt City and Dawn Winery, knowing just a handful of people, mainly Diluc and Kaeya. You were extremely close to them since you had no siblings of your own, and your parents died protecting you from bandits at the age of seven. Ever since then, you grew up with the two brothers. At age eleven, you received the blessing of Barbatos, being granted the Anemo Vision in the form of a brooch, the only jewellery left by your mother. Even so, you knew you would never be able to wield it to its fullest potential, and your dreams of being an adventurer were thrown out the window quickly after being diagnosed with a large hole in your heart, which lead to fatigue, skipped heartbeats and frequent episode of shortness of breath.

Because of this, you were treated like a delicate dandelion, as if the gentlest of breeze would blow you away. You were never the typical “don’t treat me like I’m fragile, I can protect myself” kind of girl since it was evident just how unhealthy you were. Diluc and Kaeya both showered you with care and love, and Master Crepus commissioned adventurers to seek suitable herbs and potions to get your vitality up to an average level, but alas, it came to a dead end every time. When you turned thirteen, you requested for the search to come to a halt, consigning yourself to your ill-fated life.

Seeing your dreams withered and died at such a young age pained Diluc, so the young teen ensured you smiled every day, be it making silly jokes or allowing himself to be the butt of Kaeya’s pranks, just to hear your bright giggles and flush face of happiness every day. He made sure you ate well every meal and have an ample amount of rest. He also kept an eye on every servant that interacted with you; he needed them to know to treat you like royalty (Kaeya used it to tease Diluc to no end).

Despite being unable to be an adventurer, you were not as disheartened as everyone else thought. Every day you would read books written by seasoned adventurers, learning about the vast world through those tiny words written, and your mind painted a scenery you craved. Your utter admiration for those adventurers brought so much joy in your life that Diluc simply fell in love with your smile, which was the epitome of bliss and positivity.

On clear days, Diluc would walk around Dawn Winery with you, sharing tales and events that happened in Mondstadt whenever you were unable to visit. In turn, you told him about the most recent literature that has caught your interest. He listened to each word attentively as they brought forth the liveliness you were holding back most of the time in exchange to remain calm and demure to not overstimulate yourself.

“Diluc, over there!” A gasp of amazement escaped your lips as you glanced up as you lifted your dress to jog closer to the sight you were looking at. To Diluc, you, amongst the dandelions, were like a Cecilia. So pure and delicate, gazing into the bright azure sky, awed by the slightest things, fascinated by the tiniest creatures. “Oh, how those birds fly so freely.”

The young thirteen-year-old Master Diluc had his heart crushed at the simple sentence and came kneeling in front of you. “[y/n], I promise you that I will become the strongest knight and guard you. So that if there is anywhere you want to go, you can go with an easy heart.”

You smiled and patted Diluc’s soft red hair, one you thought was akin to that of a squirrel’s tail. “Then I will be more audacious in my request. When you become a strong knight, let’s visit Fontaine! I heard they are absolutely a place of culture! Oh, Liyue and Inazuma have always been popular, let’s go there too! You know what? Let’s travel the world! You, me, Kaeya and Master Crepus!”

Diluc smiled melancholily yet fondly at you, pulling your hand into his, kissing your knuckles. “Your every wish is my command,” he pledged. Your melodious laughter was all he needed to fuel his motivation.

Just like that, Diluc became the youngest Cavalry Captain of the Favonius knight at the age of fourteen. The praises from Crepus and yourself continued to fan the fire within Diluc. Throughout his missions and patrols, the residents of Mondstadt progressively came to know this young and passionate Cavalry Captain. No matter what the tasks demanded from him, Diluc always maintained his composure and his passion. No matter how big the challenge was before him, his boundless courage always led him to the front line. Because he knew when one day the two of you set off on the promised adventure, he would be your knight, the one who would always be at the front to guard his princess.

“Diluc, my knight in shining armour,” you would tease. Unbeknownst to you, they were some of the words that spurred him on.

Kaeya would sometimes compete with the red head, stating how he would also protect you from any monsters when he follows you and Diluc on your future explorations. Sensing an endless argument coming, you quickly grabbed each of their hands and brought it to you, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Kaeya soon cracked into his own laughter, seeing how he successfully riled Diluc and brought you joy. “Looks like I can make you laugh just as much, huh, [y/n]?”

“Oh Kaeya, you know how much of a joy you are! As long as the three of us are together, no one will ever dare say there are better jesters out there!”

“J-Jesters…?” Kaeya recoiled in feigned hurt before laughing and owning his new occupation in pride. Such were the simpler days that you lived - waking up to Crepus greeting you as his new daughter, spending the day tending to the beautiful gardens and taking notes on the wine industry, and finally, welcoming Diluc and Kaeya back from their hard work at the Knights of Favonius headquarters.

But those days would never return.

Today, you were celebrating Diluc’s coming of age birthday. Although you were not yet of age yet, the Knights all knew how cherished you were by the Ragnvindr father and son duo, and so there you were in the Tavern, surrounded by the smell of alcohol of different varieties. Soon, grey clouds rolled over the city of Mondstadt, and Crepus informed his children that they were going to head off before it the downpour and pointed out that your eyes were barely opened after staying up all night to perfect Diluc’s gift.

“Yes, father,” Diluc smiled and helped you up. The knights whistled and teased their Cavalry Captain for his chivalry, and though Diluc quickly shut it down, he was unable to hide the growing blush on his face.

After Diluc and Crepus helped you into the wagon, your tiredness became too hard to suppress. “Sleep, child. You must be tired after today, right? Don’t push yourself and get some rest,” Crepus smiled, patting your head.

“What about Kaeya? Isn’t he coming with us?”

“That boy said he will be coming along shortly after, don’t worry and just look after yourself more, [y/n].”

“Then…I guess a quick shut eye wouldn’t hurt….” Your sight began to blur as you slowly drifted into slumber; the moist air pulled you into a peaceful rest fairly quickly.

Just as fast as the impending doom that struck.

The wagons rattled violently as screams of terror and a fearsome roar pierced the air. Your eyes flung open, instinctively looked out, only to came across multiple hilichurls. “We’re under attack, [y/n]! Stay inside!” Crepus warned, pulling out a box, but you had no idea what it contained, though you suspected it was something significant.

Knowing the people that guarded the goods were visionless, you immediately wielded sharp blades of wind, laying those monsters to rest. “I’ll keep them away from you, sir!”

Before Crepus could stop you, the vision on your brooch let out a bright glow. Despite your weaker constitution, you immediately went out of the carriage, blasting the monsters away, knowing you must protect the man that took you in. With each violent gust you produced, the air in your lungs felt as though it had been vacuumed out, but you fought on, that was the least you could do.

“Wait- Diluc…? Diluc!!” You ran to the front, hoping to find the red-haired knight, only to spot Ursa the Drake, the monster that had terrorised Mondstadt for centuries. Diluc was on his knee, clutching his abdomen, unable to place even a scratch on Ursa. Multiple bodies were lying motionless, blood splattered everywhere.

“Of all days…why must you show up today…!” You glared at the draconic creature with rage, showing your ire for the first time as vicious wind revolved around you, your eyes contested against the monster, not backing down.

“[y/n], what are you doing?! Get away!” Diluc hollered, but you knew running proved futile for a multitude of reasons. Before Diluc could warn you of the incoming attack, you whipped the winds into Ursa’s eyes, hoping to blind it, even if it was momentarily as you sensed more hilichurls coming, seemingly acting as back up. Once again, you sent out a burst of gale to your surroundings, scaring off the hilichurls, but it only agitated Ursa even more. Its giant claw slashed forward, dispersing your Anemo powers and stabbing through your legs as it slowly gained back its sight.

As much as you wished to put on a brave front, this was undisputedly the worst pain you have ever felt. You let out a piercing scream, horrifying Diluc as he crumbled, berating himself and yelling internally to move. You were in danger, and he, the one who vowed to be your knight, was useless and powerless to save you. He stared motionlessly as Ursa flung you away, crimson beads flew across and painted Diluc’s white coat in your blood.

Before Diluc could even register what had happened, Crepus appeared as their saving grace, a pyro delusion donned on his hand.

You reached your trembling hand out, wanting to stop Crepus from getting close to Ursa, but no matter how hard you tried, not even a groan was audible from your throat. All you felt at that moment was numbness and cold in your legs, blood staining your eyes from the large gash from your forehead.

It was all just flashes of images as Crepus lost his life right before your eyes, the last thing you saw before you passed out completely.

It was one of the rare times where you cursed your ill-fated body.

The darkness that enveloped you felt like an eternity, numerous sun and moon cycles repeated before any positive news echoed in Dawn Winery.

“S-She’s awake- Miss [y/n]’s awake! Someone…!”

You have no idea what happened, but right now you simply wished to make sense of your surroundings. It became obvious very quickly that you were in your childhood room, but you were unsure of how many days had passed. As you tried to access the situation, the door flung opened. “[y/n]!” Kaeya burst in as the hefty burden he felt the past few days were thrown aside in exchange to be by your side, his sole focus only on you.

“…Kaeya…” You reached out slowly; your body still felt weightless yet heavy. Kaeya grabbed hold of your hand tightly, a frown etched on his face as he breathed out words of relief.

“You scared us, [y/n]… Gosh, you sure know how to make us worry, huh…” The young knight painfully chuckled, dropping his head. You took slow breaths and stroked his head before asking about Crepus’s and Diluc’s whereabout. Expecting an answer, the silence that you received only caused you to panic. Sensing you were about to jump out of bed, Kaeya harshly held you down; there was another tragedy that you were not ready to find out just yet.

“Kaeya…! Answer me, please…!” Your hoarse voice only pained Kaeya, which caused him to delay the truth about it all. You kept begging over, and over again. Endless tears pouring out your eyes, but Kaeya did not break his silence. The stubbornness within Kaeya won as he watched you lost all energy, falling back onto the bed – your fever was relentlessly harassing your temperature for so long. He apologised and called in the doctor that has been looking after you, telling him to make sure your fever was treated immediately.

Knowing Kaeya’s lips were sealed as tightly as the cork in a wine bottle, you made the doctor spill the truth, nothing could be any worse than the fact that both Diluc and Crepus left without even saying goodbye to you and the man, too, refused to say anything. Those eyes as clear as glass gradually dulled as the light in your life dissipated, unsure of who you could seek comfort from anymore.

Diluc was gone, Crepus was dead, his body gone with the wind, and the doctor informed of how he was unsure when you would be able to walk again, if you could ever.

By the time you had learnt the truth of all that had happened, Kaeya had already made a name for himself in the Knights of Favonius whilst your view on them had slowly turned into one of abhorrence and cynicism, albeit you trusted a good few within the ranks. Now, stuck in a wheelchair, you took over Dawn Winery under Diluc’s written request, assisted by Adelinde and Elzer. Kaeya had already moved out by the time you made decent recovery progress, stating how it was better that way, and you never stopped him. It was not because he told you of his identity but simply because he was a capable knight. That being said, Kaeya still visited regularly after dark, making sure you still held the same smile as before. He took it upon himself to be your personal escort when you travel between the city and Dawn Winery, he dared not have any tragedy repeat itself, be it with the bandits or any monster attacks. By now, you were one of the strongest caster in Mondstadt but even so, Kaeya was your self-proclaimed knight. Both of you maintain the same relationship despite it all, and for that, he was more than grateful – he joked about his loneliness too often for you to not worry about his emotional state.

Whenever you were in the city, many would spot you entering the Favonius Cathedral, your hands always interlaced in a prayer. You wished for many things, and sometimes even Rosaria wondered if you stayed in the cathedral longer than her, rare overtime hours. She would ask you in pessimism, questioning your faith in the Anemo Archon to which you let out a wry smile and the fellow lackadaisical lass could see the dwindling spirit within that was still clinging onto the last few threads of sunray. At that moment, the clergywoman sighed and sat next to you, making it her routine to watch over you in a form of ‘payment’, if you would – those wine you served her on the house rather frequently had to be repay somehow, no?

“My Archon, Barbatos, my keeper, your faithful and humble follower, I seek for your ever benevolent blessing to keep watch over Diluc…and guide Master Crepus to where the wind flows free and may he find eternal peace…” Such prayers were never left unheard by many sisters in the cathedral, and Barbara would volunteer to pray on your behalf whenever you could not make it to church, hoping to ease your mind even a little; even she knew how important Diluc was to you, notwithstanding she had never interacted with the young master.

On days you did not visit Angel’s Share and had some breathing time, you would paint to your heart’s content, illustrating what you read onto vast canvases, pining for the day you could travel to the rest of Teyvet. The Dawn Winery Manor were filled with your work; Elzer and Adelinde were adamant to have them displayed instead of stacking them in the attic. You could care less about where they were placed, honestly, because you only cared that Diluc saw them when he returned.

But when will he returned?

You have repeated this prayer for three years, how long more must you use this as an excuse to handle this stress of yours? Not a single word from Diluc in the last three years, and it felt as though the world was testing your own faith in him. At this point, your hope of seeing him again was but the size of a crystal core that was soon crumbling in your fragile touch.

“Where are you, my love…?” With your lightest breath, you gazed up to the orange sunset. A gentle gale enveloped your body and the dandelions neath your feet caressed your ankles, as if keeping your lonesome form company, waiting for your red hair knight to return to you.

Amongst the dandelion, stood the strong Cecilia that went by the name [y/n].

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