#I moved to flatland | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jozlyn-moon · 15 days

Text

The Cipher Twins

Ford’s Journal Entry:

(It’s long! And one of the first Journal Entries I’ve gone fully into making!)

“How and Why that devil managed to “conceive”, and I use this term loosely, is beyond me. Especially when it’s taken in mind how careful with planning he chooses to be. But the outcome of two children that share such gains of his power is.. well- reckless, but that does give us a view that he isn’t as on his game as much as he once was, which in my eyes shows as a beacon of hope. Continuing though-

These two have been an eye opening pain in the ass to deal with in all the years that they’ve had to be in my life… and that’s saying quite a bit. From the oddities that sprout from their father’s genes to the oddities that come from each of their unique personalities that stem from their own special quirks, to study them has been an experience. Though, if I shouldn’t lie.. I may have chosen a favorite of the two for one reason or another and even if either manages to get a hand on my writing their opinion would not much matter in the end.

To begin on the first, Lily Cipher, a rambunctious but albeit pleasant kid to be around. An attribute which I could only give thanks to in the mother’s raising of both of the twins which I presumed had fortunately been enough to quell any evil nature that may have been held in her soul. Along with the fact that there had been no contact with the father in her and her sibling’s upbringing. Ignoring that fact- She can be described as a great help around the lab, seeing as age and stress have worn down my ability to keep steady with my motor and cognitive skills… she comes in handy as a shockingly fast learner, but to no surprise really as much as I don’t want to point the praise at where the origin of the ability may have come from, I do have my guesses to who it was passed down from.

She is a very curious and hyperactive child as well, being quite fascinated in the little things and anything that moves, she could only remind me of Mabel in her younger years in the most bitter sweet way possible. I pray for the moment that she’s alright.. but besides that point-

I find that she’s been a large help in also understanding, if not, being able to decrypt the genetics of my enemy, with her ability to shape shift into a form similar to the beings of Bill’s late home dimension, flatlanders as they’re called, she has given key samples of skin and DNA that have properties no normal being can handle nor have. I believe she and her brother are direct keys in Bill’s downfall. And while I wish to be optimistic to the outcomes of their existence at the current time, I do hold dread for whats to come. As while I may have positive outcomes with the more sweet hearted sibling… I have trouble describing the short tempered and snide one as such. Liam is another whole pile of bones to dissect but i’ll get to his summary soon enough.

Lily, and what baffles me the most about her, is how something so, well giddy and sweet by nature, can come out of such a creature that can be so, by choice, dangerously and maliciously evil. But then again, that damn triangle had always had his charms at his hand, so it wouldn’t be a complete surprise if that had passed along to his spawn.

And as much as I want to be paranoid of my enemy’s daughter, seeing first hand her grow up with no influence of her father’s morals and presence due to her mother separating from that devil before either of the twins were born- it lets me ponder on the thought of the nature vs nurture theory and how whether or not natures of the parents pass down to the kin and how much it actual effects their psyche.

Albeit with Lily, she works on her own will with a good moral stand point and natural urge to uplift others in sometimes slightly odd but endearing ways. Though i’m afraid that it’s her brother that leaves me still questioning the nature vs. nurture stand point, as I couldn’t say the same completely for her twin.

Liam Cipher, a more reserved kid but leaning on socially aloof by choice, is one who leaves me sleeping with one eye open. Literally. Seemingly gained the temper of his father along with a slew of other worrying traits that I would rather not be in the presence of while someone has lit his fuse. He is the sole reason why I had to ban or at the least limit the use of both of their magic to the mundane and simple party tricks after an incident with him that cost me half my sight with a fit he threw when he was younger.

Though as his mother insists to me greatly, it’s not the child’s fault for the traits he was born with, he can’t help himself she claims. And while true to some extents I can’t help but feel the dread towards the thought of another Bill like being sprouting due to the “freak accident” of them being somehow made into existence. From the personality to even the damn voice that the kid shares with himself and his devil of a father, I can’t just shake off the feeling of a tense shiver that always crawls up my back when thinking of him growing older.

The only saving grace, and what calms my already paranoid nerves falls upon the ones I could think have a good hand in quelling those unsavory traits, the one’s I label the family buffers. I.e his mother, sister, and at times the cousins that are there to talk him down out of a potential blow out. I couldn’t even dare muster the thoughts to wonder what he’d turn to if his mother nor his “siblings”, if I could even loosely consider the cousins as such, weren’t there to quell his snappy nature. But for the sake of my cortisol levels, I can’t let those scenarios overcome my already racing thoughts because I have enough to deal with now in taking care of both of the twins that have been enough of a hassle on my growing age.

Liam for the most part has made it clear that he has a distaste for me, I believe sprouting from my coldness towards his mother for being deceptive at the beginning of our begrudging guardianship over the kids. And he places it as if I have no good reason, if it wasn’t clear that I have some bother that hiding the children of that damned demon under my nose with what current family I have left wasn’t something to not be chastised for. Not to mention that her withholding from the implicit truth had allowed me and my great great niece and nephew to harbor an attachment to the twins which if I had known before hand their origin… would not have ended well for her.

But I am not heartless, I do understand the fears that may have accompanied the weight of telling the truth at the time. And I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t be one to not swallow my pride and say I know I would have probably acted rashly. But as someone who freshly lost what family they had left at the time I feel as if it would’ve been just.

I don’t hate either of them, even while one may be more a pain in the ass than the other. I do believe I care for them in some sense. Liam is a help to me greatly, I won’t downplay that factor at all, he’s the one that helps me draw in the newer journal entries and goes out to scout with Chloe to do some cartography of the surrounding landscape. A quirk he seems to be great at with a sense of great direction and keen eyesight, something even younger me couldn’t get down right away. My body can only do so much these days as I’ve already made my point earlier that my hands and even now legs can’t do what they did often like they used to.

He’s smart, more smart than he gives himself props for, he knows how to channel a certain charisma and silver tongue that lets him find the best supplies, of course if it isn’t the case that he had stole them in the first place. And like his sister, there is no second thought to where he got that ability from, but it’s better to not dwell on it, just for my sake at least.

Both are a handful in their own ways, but they have grown on me- and they do hold insight in how we may be able to stop weirdmaggedon once and for all.

And I pray that it can be in time.”

(If you made it down here thanks for reading it! I want to make sure I have Ford’s characterization down to some extent 😭 My grammar may not be all that great but I tried lol)

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #gf amber skies #gravity falls concept #alternate universe #stanford pines #lily cipher #liam cipher #journal #journal entry

98 notes · View notes

idle-daydreams · 2 months

Note

Your writing is so beautiful, may i request fyodor with a reader who knows a lot ? She knows almost everything in the world and can talk about it for hours , from science to spirituality but the thing is she is a little bit naive and easy to be fooled .

P/s : i don't know if you still take requests so feel free to ignore this 🥲

[A.N.: Here you go! I hope you like it. Also, obligatory apologies for being late]

This is also kind of in honour of Fyodor in the new chapter :)

Tw: Mild yandere, mild controlling (this is actually pretty mild considering its about Fyodor of all people)

“You know, I sometimes wonder if there are beings other than regular humans amongst us,” you said.

Fyodor smiled. “And what has brought that question forth, my little dove?” he asked, sitting beside you on the bed.

You’d been living with him for a while now, in a secluded little house on the outskirts of Yokohama. While you’d initially been hesitant about moving in with him, you’d lost your apartment in a fire, and finding a new place had been surprisingly hard. You worked remotely, so commuting time wasn’t a problem, and the rent was cheaper than living closer to the city centre, so it had made sense economically.

And Fyodor was the gentlest man you’d ever met in your life, so it wasn’t like he could hurt you.

“I don’t know,” you said, kicking your heels as you leaned back against the headboard. “Or rather, I do, but - I was reading this book ‘Flatland’, about a two-dimensional person who lives in a 2D world, who’s visited by a being from the third dimension. It got me thinking: what if there are fourth-dimensional people walking amongst us right now?”

“A fourth dimensional being?” Fyodor shrugged. “I assume they would look quite odd, for one.”

“That’s the whole thing,” you said excitedly, “you wouldn’t be able to tell. To us, the 4D person would look just like a regular person. They’d only just phase in and out of our plane of existence.”

“Like a sphere growing larger and smaller in space.”

“Exactly!” You sat up excitedly. “Have you read the book too?”

“I have not. You simply explain things so well.”

Your smile faltered a bit at the teasing note in his voice. “You’re making fun of me,” you said. “I know I didn’t explain it that well.”

“I will admit I have come across some of those ideas before.” Fyodor patted your hand before brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “After all, it is known that some people out there have supernatural abilities, that are different from regular humans.”

“Oh yeah, the Ability users. Yeah, I’ve heard of them too. Never seen one in real life, though.”

Fyodor’s lips twitched. “They are very rare,” he said. “Though it is impossible to tell their true number.”

“I wonder if they are from some other dimension.” You tapped your chin. “I’ve seen some of them on social media, and they look quite ordinary. But their powers are said to be extraordinary. Some of them can even bend the laws of physics.”

“A perversion of the natural laws of this world.” Fyodor cocked his head to the side, and added in a curiously soft tone: “What would you do, [Y/N], if you met one?”

“Me?” You laughed. “Well, I don’t know, I’d try to get to know them, try to understand what they’re like. They haven’t pin-pointed the cause of their abilities; the prevailing theory is that it is some kind of genetic mutation, though some scientists say that its due to environmental factors that affect them in the womb.”

“Would you be afraid of them?”

“Afraid?” You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Maybe? I suppose it depends on the kind of person they are. I mean, at the heart of it they are people, aren’t they? They’re capable of good and evil just like the rest of us.”

To your surprise, Fyodor chuckled. “You are truly kind,” he said, reaching out to caress your cheek. “You have a beautiful heart.”

You reddened, touching his hand softly. His hands were cold - he was always cold, thanks to his anaemia - but for the slightest moment a tingle passed through your fingertips, like the static of socks on a carpet. You flinched but Fyodor tightened his grip, pulling you closer.

“Yes, a very beautiful heart,” he repeated. “But it does worry me. You should be afraid of them, [Y/N]; you should be afraid of them indeed.”

“Why?” you said, wishing he wouldn’t hold onto you so tightly. “Have you ever met one?”

“Would you need to meet a wild animal to be afraid of one? Would you wish to experience being robbed before you consider it a bad experience?”

“No, but-” You bit your lip. He had a good point. Fyodor always made good points, common sense ideas that you usually didn’t think of. It would have been annoying, but he never made you feel bad about it. Not too bad, anyway.

As if reading your thoughts, Fyodor ran his fingers through your hair. “It is all right, my dove,” he said. “It is not as though they are pounding down your door. But it is something to think of, yes? Danger exists everywhere, but more so in this world that we live in now.”

“I guess.” You pouted. “You know, you always see the cynical side of everything. It’s not very nice.”

“Oh, I am not nice. You are the nice one, while I am the jaded one. It is why we are so suited to each other.” He sat up, straightening his clothes, a sign that he was leaving. For some odd reason, your heart tightened in your chest at his innocuous actions, even though you knew he was only going downstairs to his office.

“Do you have a lot of work today?” you asked. “I was hoping we go out for lunch, and then get some groceries and-”

“No. We won’t be going anywhere today.”

“Oh,” you said. “Then I’ll just go alone.”

“No. I do not like to be alone in the house.” He turned to you with that soft, sad smile that was so characteristic of him. “You know that too, don’t you, my dove?”

And before you could argue the point, he planted a soft kiss atop your head and exited the room, leaving you alone. You frowned - you couldn’t put a finger on it, but you didn’t like it when he behaved that way - but dismissed the thought. After all, Fyodor was a good boyfriend in every other way. He was neat, responsible and far more intelligent than most men. So what if he was a little emotionally distant?

After all, you figured, it’s not like he’s got me trapped here. I can leave anytime I want.

#yandere fyodor dostodevsky #yandere fyodor #yandere bsd #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #bsd imagines #yandere bungou stray dogs

78 notes · View notes

storiesbyrhi · 6 months

Text

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: We speak to those beyond. 3668 words.

1986

Time was not linear. Nor was it circular. It was an overlapping collage of everything that had ever happened. A compressed murder board. A grimoire swallowed whole. Eddie remembered it all.

A century of Eptesicus fuscus, a shell of consciousness. Hawkins. A sickness. A witch’s healing hand. Before that, the flatlands. A coven. You. Oh, you, his little witch.

“Those are not your apples.” Cleansing crystals by moonlight. Amabel, little witch. Lonely vampire. Collecting flowers and berries. Green milkweed. Unconditional good. A forest gate. “Bloodline magic, far and wide.” A bet, a kiss, and a name. “I envy your world of absolutes. And I love you so.” Marguerite du Bruyeres’ letters to Guillaume du Bruyeres. Unmistakably vampire carnage. Blood of my blood.

Eddie let you slip onto the pillow, then escaped out of the trailer and into the early morning. The sun would rise soon but he needed to move. Run. Scream.

The sisters – Sally and Gillian. Penelope, the spellcaster. “By your hand he is taken and I die on this night, or you let us go and free yourself of this burden.” Transformation. Walking through the grass. Black-eyed Susan, tansy, elecampane, yellow carnation, cyclamen. Blood of my blood.

He remembered who he was before you. And before Roanoke. His accent and gait may have changed, but he was the same sad, doomed soul he’d been then. Still a monster.

Eddie sobbed. He went to the forest gate on the outskirts of town and laid in the grass, looking up at the starry sky, letting the shame and horror and regret drown him.

What was he to do? How would he tell you? Should he tell you? Would you be able to see it on his face?

He waited until the very last minutes of night to return to Forest Hills. Eddie moved slowly through the town; slowly, at least, for him. He could picture it all now, how it used to be. The dirt roads. The vacuum of quiet that proceeded the era of constant electrical white noise.

You slept well into the morning, but roused yourself before midday. Eddie was watching Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope. He seemed immersed, so you went about making breakfast. Assam tea with cocoa husks. Oatmeal with sultanas and brown sugar.

There was an awkwardness to Eddie when you sat next to him, curling up close enough to touch. Your mind cycled through possibilities with rapid fire speed. The notion it kept circling back to was – did he regret kissing you?

“Chewie reminds me of the creatures that live in the woods. Have you seen them? Over in the north-west?” you asked, trying to break the ice.

Eddie nodded. “They are shy,”

“Yeah. The humans don’t know about them. Well. They do, but most of them think it’s a hoax. They’re considered cryptids… Which is like, an animal or creature that may or may not exist…” You were rambling. “When they see one, they call it Bigfoot… But Chewie definitely looks like one.”

Eddie didn’t answer. You hadn’t appeared to notice the significance of him remembering something, even something innocuous like the existence of things in the woods.

You finished eating, washed your dishes, and returned to the couch. Star Wars ended and you had no real choice but to address the atmosphere.

“Are you okay?” you asked Eddie.

He looked at you, something in his expression you couldn’t quite place. He nodded. “Yes… Perhaps on edge regarding what your Witches will tell,”

“Yeah… Well then, let’s not put it off any longer.”

Directing Eddie to sit across the room, you knelt at your altar and lit two candles. A pale blue candle for truth. A darker indigo candle for intuition and breaking through illusion. With paper in front of you and a pen in hand, you closed your eyes.

The Witches Who Came Before were always with you, so you needn’t call for them. Instead, you spoke to them with clear intention.

“It is not my place to question you. But it is your place to guide me. To offer truth. Long ago, you foretold of us leaving the flatlands. Then, you warned me of returning. What would have happened if I had heeded that warning?”

The temperature of the room dropped and the air grew thick. Eddie felt his skin tingle and prickle, a frisson of fear and excitement running through him.

“I know you see him for what he is. Without him, Vecna would not have been defeated. Can you say without doubt that he would have been without my intervention?”

It was a challenge to them. If you and Eddie hadn’t destroyed Vecna, could your coven have stopped him? Could all the witches in the world have stop him? Maybe, sure. However, somewhere deep down you knew the answer. Vecna did not belong to this plane of existence. He wasn’t even of the world he inhabited. And a witch can only fight within the boundaries of the natural world.

If you had not come to Hawkins, if you had not found the bat and restored Eddie to his vampire form, Vecna would have taken the town, then the world.

The Witches were silent. It told you that you were right.

“You said that not all callings are sanctified, but that the voice calling me was coming into focus for you. Do you know what brought me here?”

The flames flickered and your hand picked up the signal. The words scrawled along the paper faster than you could read.

“Life and Death have no voice… They do not come calling in the night,” The Witches said. “Their siblings are to follow suit, yet they are wayward in their youth,”

“Which of their siblings called to me?” you asked.

“Destiny was formed in shattered ruins.”

The letters were so unfamiliar, you weren’t sure which witch was speaking to you. It didn’t matter. You had an answer. Destiny had broken free of the rules and reached out to you, urging you to come to Hawkins.

“If I was fated to return to Hawkins, then I was fated to find him?”

Y. E. S. was written over and over, the word tracing itself again and again.

“Why me?”

“Like calls to like. Fate to fate. Love to love,” they said. “History will not repeat itself,”

“A history I do not remember.”

For a moment, quiet. “Lore must be rewritten. You must remember.”

You looked over at Eddie, who could not see any of the words on the page. He was watching you intently, something so human behind his eyes.

“How?” you asked The Witches. “How can I remember?”

“By definition. Blood for blood. Magic for magic.”

You didn’t understand but it felt like enough information that you could figure it out. There was one more thing you needed to know. “The coven… Did I betray them or have they betrayed me?”

“Knowledge is… a creator’s prerogative.”

The pen dropped and the flames were snuffed by an unseen power. You breathed out and read the pages again. Eddie came to sit opposite you. He took the paper.

“Destiny is… a sentient thing?” Eddie asked.

“It’s not meant to be. Forces like fate and life and death shouldn’t… proactively… change the course of what happens on Earth. Not for good reason,”

“I assume we will not hear this reason from Destiny,”

“No… But… It’s an answer. I was called here to find you so we could kill Vecna.”

It was a hypothesis you had both considered. It should have felt satisfying to have it confirmed, yet it was a shallow kind of resolution.

“And, it had to be you,” Eddie said. He knew why it had to be you. No other witch would have saved a vampire. It pained him to see you confused and lost.

“When I get my memories back, I’ll know why it had to be me,”

“By definition. Blood for blood. Magic for magic,” Eddie read off the page. You nodded. “By definition, you are a witch, you are magic. Therefore, it is through magic that you will find your memories,” he reasoned.

It clicked into place in your mind. “And by definition, you are a vampire… blood… so… Through blood you’ll get yours back?” you guessed.

When you looked up at Eddie, you expected to see your own excited expression mirrored. Instead, there was restraint. He broke eye contact almost immediately and began to nod, standing up and walking away.

“Yes. Although I don’t-” he began.

“Stop,” you whispered.

You got up and followed him across the room, he took a step to move away from you but you grabbed him by the wrist. Eddie was helpless as you squinted your eyes and studied his face. When you figured it out, a small gasp slipped from your lips and you let go of him.

As you went to speak, your voice cracked and you had to start again. “How long?”

Eddie said your name with too much softness.

“No. No. Don’t… Don’t do that. How long have you remembered? Do you remember everything? When… When did you remember?” You felt like you were going to throw up.

It hurt.

Not the nausea or the sudden headache, but the deceit. You had thought you and Eddie were a united front. A team. But he had lied to you.

“Only last night, but-”

“Last night?! Was that before or after we…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Now that your face was contorted with fear and sadness, Eddie’s mirror yours.

“Please, let me tell you. I’ll tell you everything,” he begged. His hand reached out; he wanted to brush the tears from your cheeks.

You flinched and Eddie moved back in response.

Had you been stupid to trust a vampire? Was everything you felt about Eddie misguided? Were all your bad decisions going to lead to a reckoning, where excommunication was the best outcome you could hope for?

Eddie wanted desperately to spill it all out. To tell you everything that had happened in 1836. To warn you against trusting your coven. To help you find your memories, and maybe Kelsey’s too. But the more he pushed, the more you pulled away. He’d never had faith in anything, but he demanded it of himself in that moment. Have faith in fate. Have faith in his little witch.

Your mind was having trouble holding any one thought. Normally, you’d be cycling through them all, but it felt like your brain was empty. Long hallways leading to unfurnished rooms. Cavernous spaces. Haunted. You were frozen on the spot, watching Eddie watch you. Then, everything came into sharp focus at the sound of a knock on the trailer’s front door.

The tension was popped and you choked back a half-sob. Eddie hid himself in the bedroom, closing the door behind him, as you answered. He climbed onto the bed and curled up, regret washing over him as he closed his eyes and listened.

Sunlight poured in as the door swung open, Robin and Nancy’s shadows casting long across the trailer’s carpet. You frowned, at first, confused by their appearance. The grief was so intense that it was almost an entity standing beside them. You understood then.

“Hey,” Nancy greeted weakly.

“Hi,” you replied.

It felt strange following a normal social script with them. Yet, you all persisted.

“This is Dustin,” she introduced, taking a step to reveal a child standing behind her.

You knew who he was and nodded politely in his direction. He was already crying. Sighing, you looked away from them, out at Forest Hills. Life was returning to it, but you had been too busy with your own shit to notice.

“It might be too early for this,” you told them.

“It’s past midday,” Robin countered.

“No, I mean, too early in the grieving process. It’s only been a couple days,” you explained.

“Are you saying that… He won’t… Answer us… yet? Or that we aren’t ready to talk to him?” Nancy asked. “Because, no offense, but you don’t know us well enough to tell us if we’re ready,”

“We’re ready,” Robin added.

You sucked your bottom lip in, forgetting the split. You winced at the pain, tasted the blood. The blood. Was that how Eddie got his memory back? Had he kissed blood from your mouth and found history in it?

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” Dustin squeaked. The boy’s face was pure misery. His nose was red from rubbing it with tissues. His eyes were bloodshot. He was clenching his jaw.

Stepping aside, you nodded. “Okay. Come in.”

Eddie stayed where he was, knowing it was not his place to intrude on such a private event.

You cleared the altar in the middle of the lounge room and directed the teens to sit around it. They watched as you gathered items from around the place and mumbled to yourself while scribbling into a notebook.

“Where there is death, there have always been attempts to commune with the dead. It is not a practice that belongs strictly to witches. Since the beginning of time, humans have sought out methods to speak to those they’ve lost. Where connection has been made, it is usually more to do with the dead than the methods of the living, but nonetheless, it has happened.”

Nancy was listening intently, ever the student. Robin and Dustin both looked at each other, sharing inpatient expressions.

“It’s important to understand history. If you want to participate in the craft, you owe it at least that,” you told them. “Our way of bridging us and them is dependent on the dead. How they appear is dictated by them entirely,”

“What does that mean?” Nancy asked.

“It means, I can send them a message and open the doorway, but if and how they walk through it has nothing to do with me. They could send a single message back. Just an echo I hear. Their form may appear, ready to hold conversation. Alternatively, they may close the door and lock it. You need to be prepared for any of these outcomes,”

“He’ll want to talk to us,” Dustin said. “I know he will.”

You hoped he was right.

If the altar was at the center of an invisible pentagram, you placed an object at each point. A small plate of chunks of cedarwood, burning slowly. Black onyx. Sprigs of vervain. A bowl of moon water. Finally, a white candle burning at where the top of the pentagram would be.

You sat at the altar and used a pin to open a tiny wound in your finger. Closing your eyes and letting the blood roll down your hand, you spoke. “I offer my blood, the blood of a born witch, in payment of passage into the ether.” You opened your eyes and looked at the teens. “You can call to him,” you instructed.

They looked between themselves, silently figuring out who would go first. Naturally, Nancy took a deep breath in. Her eyes glazed over with tears. Her voice was small. “Steve? Are you there?”

She looked to you for guidance; you nodded for her to continue.

“Steve… It’s Nancy… Robin and Dustin are here too… We…” She had to stop to steel her nerves. “We miss you. And. Um. We… we wanted…” It was suddenly impossible for her to say the words ‘to say goodbye.’ Nancy started to cry.

“Hey- hey, dingus,” Robin took over. “Are you there? You’re probably busy… hitting on ghost chicks already… But, um, if you could just… just tune in for a minute…”

Everyone’s attention snapped to the bowl of water as it shook and spilled. You felt him first. Warmth. Steve Harrington felt warm.

“He’s here,” you told them. “He’s listening.”

They all focused, trying to sense what you did. Slowly, his outline was becoming visible to you. He was behind his friends, leaning against the trailer’s wall, by the door. Steve’s arms were crossed against his chest and one leg was folded, foot flat against the wall. He appeared casual, already at peace with his death.

“Your friends wanted to say goodbye to you,” you said to him.

“Are you like…” Steve waved his hands in the air. “Like a witch?”

You nodded.

“All this is… Are you a- a good witch?”

“Was that a genuine question or are you quoting The Wizard of Oz?” you asked him.

Robin covered her face with her hands as Dustin rolled his eyes.

“I thought dying, might, you know, level him up?” Dustin whispered through his tears.

“I can hear you,” Steve said.

“Does he know we tried… we…” Nancy cut through the comedy with her grief, getting stuck on her words again.

Steve nodded. He moved through the trailer, his form semi-transparent and snapping with residual energy. He sat next to you, looking over at his friends.

“He knows you tried to save him. He knows you didn’t want to leave him there,” you told them.

“Tell Dustin that he doesn’t need to feel guilty. I’m glad he wasn’t there,” Steve said.

“It’s good you weren’t there, Dustin. Steve is thankful you were safe and that you didn’t have to see him in the end,”

“And tell him that he’s the coolest kid I ever knew. That I figured that out on the train tracks. He’s cool and he’s so smart. Twice as smart as me. More, probably. He’s gonna grow up and be the kind of man I wish I was.”

You watched Steve as he spoke. The way he looked at Dustin with admiration in his eyes. Like this kid who probably worshipped him was actually the hero of the group.

You relayed Steve’s message word-for-word. Dustin whimpered and let Nancy wrap an arm around him.

“Thanks, man,” Dustin managed to get out. “I love you.”

Steve looked to Robin next. “I don’t know how to explain it to her,” he told you.

“It’s okay. I think she’ll understand,”

“Yeah… That’s it though. She gets me. And I get her. Like… I feel normal around her. I can just be… me. She’s my best friend… I have a shit load of regrets but not knowing Robin sooner is right at the top of that list. Tell her… that she’s so much braver than she thinks she is. And that she’s smart in a way nobody else is… And that she totally deserves to be loved. And not by some girl who keeps it a secret. Nothing like that. She deserves the whole love story movie thing… romantic comedy with the happy ending. Can you tell her that?”

You could and you did.

Robin nodded to herself in a self-soothing action, then pulled her knees up to her chest and started to rock. Steve frowned at her.

“Tell her that she should still go on the trip we were thinking about,”

“He says you should still go on the trip,” you said to her.

Robin barked out a broken laugh. “Sunshine, beers, and babes,” she said.

“Oh! And tell her if someone pauses Fast Times at Ridgemont High at 53 minutes and 5 seconds, she knows what it means.”

Robin laughed again and nodded. “Noted.”

Steve nodded along with her. “Maybe she should take Nancy on the trip. They’d actually make really good friends if they got to know each other,”

“I think they’re doing that,” you told him.

“That’s good…” He looked at Nancy. “I had the chance to tell her everything, near the end. Got some of it… Tell her… Shit. I don’t know how to say it without sounding like I’m blowing smoke up her ass,”

“You’re up Nancy. He needs a second. Says he doesn’t know how to tell you what he needs to without sounding like he’s blowing smoke up your ass.”

Everyone laughed. Except Steve. He held his hands up in question. “What the hell, man? You said you were a good witch!”

You liked Steve.

“Okay… She needs to really believe what I told her. About how she really helped me stop being such an asshole. And that it’s okay how it ended between us. I was stuck in the present but Nancy sees the future. Big plans, you know? She should know that’s a good thing.”

As soon as you started to give Nancy the message, she burst into tears again.

“Tell her that I love that she always trusts her gut. And that she’ll always look so hot with a shotgun… And tell her that I’ll say hi to Barb for her.”

The room fell into silence after the last of Nancy’s goodbye was said. Nobody was ready to move on just yet. After a few minutes of reflection, Steve’s form began to flicker. He knew what it meant. When you sat up straight, the others all looked at you.

“I gotta go,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “Here. Hold my hand.”

Steve frowned, unsure of what would happen. Still, he thought it best to do what a good witch said. He took your hand and felt a zap of electricity or something magic.

“Any last words?” you asked him.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. The others all gasped. Steve looked to them then back to you. “They can hear me?”

Robin started to sob again. Dustin nodded.

“Oh, shit, okay. Shit… Hi… Shit…”

“It’s okay,” you told him, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah… Uh… Just… It’s okay, you know? It… it had to be this way. There’s already plenty of Steves in the world, you know? But there’s only one Dustin Henderson. One Robin Buckley. One Nancy Wheeler. The world needs you guys. So, it’s okay. I’m okay. I love you.”

The others cried and said goodbye. They held each other and let themselves feel it all.

Steve’s hand slowly faded out of yours, until there was nothing left but his warmth and the memory of him etched into his friends' minds like love letters swiped through wet concrete.

End Note: This chapter was written very much in collab with @dr-aculaaa, my resident Steve expert. Thank you so much! I hope you like how the scene turned out.

Chapter seventeen is a little bit of an interlude, it's an ode to both Steve and to the magic that runs through this story. But also... now she knows Eddie knows... yikes.

Grimoire updated!

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel

#Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Reader Insert #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Vampire!Eddie Munson

109 notes · View notes

anathemafiction · 9 months

Text

One for the Road

You're talking to him.

Hadrian can see your lips moving — Lord, he can never not see your lips moving — and he can hear your voice bathing his ears, but as much as he likes the sound, he's not making sense of the words. Hadrian stares at you and notices all the little details about your features. Sunlight comes in shredded shadows from between the branches of the willow tree. It makes a patchwork on your skin, the light and shade creating illusions of ridges and valleys in the corners of your nose, your cheekbones, and the flatland of your forehead.

Your eyes are crinkled, widening, and narrowing as you continue speaking, as animated as your hand, making swift, elegant notions through the air. Your other hand plays with the long, sinking leaves of the tree. It's approaching Autumn, so the leaves aren't bright green but are starting to deepen to a golden yellow. They hang around you like a veil, seeming to glow from a light of their own.

You're seated together below the tree, inside the tree, almost. Its radius engulfs you, and not very far, Hadrian can hear the soft song of a running creek mingling with the cadence of your voice. Birds sing somewhere above, insects with broad, heavy wings and large, colorful butts, buzz from sights unseen, and a tiny, bright red ladybug crawls up your bare arm — thin black feet treading along your skin as if it runs up a mountain.

Hadrian wonders if you feel it. You don't seem to. You're too intent on whatever it is you're describing. Your hand makes another great sweep, almost hitting him in the nose, and your voice pitches... before you settle down again. Your legs are intertwined with his, your bare feet warm against his calves, and your shirt is opened in the middle, gifting Hadrian with a peak of your collarbone and the upper part of your chest.

Hadrian stares at the picture in front of him. You bathed in golden sunlight, surrounded by golden leaves. He wishes he could find a word to describe what he's feeling. Not for the first time, Hadrian laments his lack of vocabulary. But however insufficient, he supposes he has to go with happiness. He's happy.

"Of course, it didn't stop there, it—" You snap your mouth shut and give him an odd look. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Hmm?" Hadrian eloquently asks.

"I didn't get to the punchline," you say. "You're not supposed to laugh yet."

He loves the slight pout of your lips. "I'm not laughing. I'm, uh. I'm just smiling." Your dry look has him chuckling. "Sorry. I like looking at you, is all.”

For a moment, your expression mellows, but then you narrow your eyes and give him a piercing glare. “Don’t think your pretty words will get you out of this,” you say, waggling your finger at him. “If I find you weren’t listening to me again, Hadrian, I swear I’ll— “

You're interrupted by four tiny feet clamoring to get to your shoulder. You look down and notice the ladybug for the first time. Hadrian sees your surprise before it melts into a smile.

And Lord, what a smile it is.

"Hey, little lady. Where are you going?" you whisper, lifting a hand to it. The ladybug hesitates before your fingers, but you wait patiently, and then it crawls to your palm. Your smile softens, as does your voice. "I'm not a great place to be. Here."

You gently put your hand between the grass. The ladybug shakes its wings and leaps down gracefully. "Be safe," you wish it as it crawls away, round butt wiggling from side to side.

You stay looking at the insect for a while longer, but Hadrian is enraptured by you. When you finally look up, you see him staring. "Do I have something on my face?" you ask, fingertips touching your cheek.

"Yes," Hadrian says.

"What is it?"

He leans forward, hand cupping the back of your neck and bringing you to him. "Hadri—"

(…)

Your legs dangle in the air.

Your boots kick back and forth as you swing your legs to the sound of a wordless song. You tilt your chin at the cool wind whooshing atop the banisters and settle your eyes on the brilliant horizon. Sunset is coming, painting the sky in shades of red and making the clouds explode with an orange glow. Tarragona's terraces and ceilings pierce the horizon, the city sprawling before you.

"Striking, isn't it?" you say, eyeing the distant wall. Faint music from an unseen minstrel drifts lazily from the market, and you spy at least a dozen smoke columns rising into the air. Street lamps are being lit, and hearths are fed a good amount of timber.

From your side comes a cool, measured voice. "Indeed."

You grin. "I'm always impressed by your enthusiasm, Alessa," you joke, turning your chin to look at her. She sits with one knee tucked beneath the other while her free leg dangles alongside yours. To your surprise, you don't find her inspecting the horizon but looking toward you.

Her blue eyes are like two frozen ponds, her freckles like minuscule exploding stars against the white of her skin. "'Tis... pretty, one could say. But I do not find the sight of roofs and man-made canopies to be spectacular."

You lean your weight on your hand, considering her for a moment. "What sight would you find spectacular, then?"

Alessa seems surprised by the question. "Oh," she lets out but quiets, then, and lowers her eyes to her lap. Her left hand is near yours, filled with rings on the fingers. She's wearing a golden bracelet with no adornments but the gleam it catches from the dying sun. "I suppose I would find the sunset over the ocean to be worth noting. It has been a long time since I have witnessed one."

She admits this in a low voice, almost akin to a whisper. You smile at her profile. "The ocean, uh?"

Alessa lifts her head, facing you again. There's a familiar defiant glint in her eyes. "Yes," she says, adopting the tone she always does when she shares something personal and feels vulnerable. "'Tis more appealing than city walls, is it not?"

"It is," you agree. "I was just thinking that we're not far from the ocean, Alessa. Actually, you can see it clearly from the Harbor." You point in the direction of the Mediterranean Sea, covered now by a hill. "We could go there tomorrow or the day after. Sit on the docks and watch the sunset over the sea."

Alessa follows your pointed finger, and for a moment, her hair hides her face. She stays quiet for a while, staring out at the city. "What do you say?" you prompt.

Slowly, she turns her head to you. Her face is stoic, a wall as impregnable as the one circling Tarragona, and her eyes hold no emotion. Alessa stares at you, and you shift a little uneasily in your seat. Have you... offended her?

"You mean it," she says then, not a question but a statement.

You frown. "Of course, I do. Why else would I suggest it?"

Alessa doesn't answer. She's stiff, her leg immobile, and her hand curls beside yours, closing in a tight fist. You duck your head, trying to read beneath the ice in her gaze. "Alessa?" you ask, using the same tone one would use when approaching a predator. "You're alright?"

Suddenly, like a snake jumping out of the grass, Alessa moves forward,

(…)

Rafael scoffs.

"That's low hangin' fruit."

Your face scrunches up, and he fights back a smile at the outrage in your expression. "It's not," you argue. You slam your elbow on the table and lift a finger in the air. You almost stick it inside his nose. "It's pretty high damn fruit. It's the highest fruit you've seen in your miserable life. Higher than high. It's fucking tall."

Rafael leans back, making sure to give a disgusted look at your finger before the bastard drags his eyes up to yours. "I already knew your standards are low," he says and curls one side of his mouth in another sneer. Rafael likes to think he has perfected the expression. "But I never guessed it was this damn low."

He's rewarded by your frown. You're slightly tipsy so it's easier to ruffle your feathers. Your eyes aren't as sharp as usual – your gaze is unfocused and your lips part just a little bit, and Rafael thinks you look the perfect picture of an idiot.

He also thinks you look damn good, but Rafael is quick to push the thought away.

"Not gonna defend yourself?" he asks at your silence, giving you another one of his perfect sneers. "Given up already?"

You shake your head, and your gaze focuses. With narrowed eyes, you lean over the table to wag your finger right beneath his nose. "I know what you're doing," you say, then, tapping your finger against his cheek. "And it's not gonna work."

Rafael tries to sneer again, but his own body betrays him because he's pretty sure he's smiling instead. Oh, well, no worries. He'll just make it condescending. "I think it's already workin', sweetheart."

Your eyes widen, and Rafael lets out an internal laugh of victory. He's won this round. The bastard leans on his chair with a smug smile and rests an elbow on the back. "Your turn to buy the next round," he says, shaking his empty mug at you. "And make it quick, will ya? My throat's all dry."

But you simply stare, and slowly, Rafael's smug smile dies. Your face morphs again, but while he expected to see anger or exasperation, maybe, if he's lucky, a little bit of begrudging respect, Rafael sees...

Something else. Something that has his fingers nervously jerking on the mug. You stare at him, your pupils wider than he remembers, but it's not because of shock. And then, you lean even closer, your hand sprawling on the table to sustain your weight. "What did you just say?" you whisper then, and Rafael has never heard your voice like this.

He's heard you furious. He's heard you amused. He's heard you annoyed and joyful and pissed drunk and cynical and melancholic. He's heard you in many different ways, but never like this.

This voice has a fire burning on his stomach, and the hair on his arms standing to attention. "What?" Rafael asks, and fucking hates the squeak in his voice. He clears his throat and tries again. "Whatcha mean?"

"What did you call me?" you say in that voice again.

Fucking hell. Rafael likes it. "I call you many things," he answers, trying to sound nonchalant. It's hard when you press even closer. Your face is right beside his, and he doesn't miss how your eyes are fixed on his lips. Lord in bloody heaven. He feels hot all of a sudden. Why the hell is he so hot? "Was it idiot?"

You drag your eyes to his. "Stop playing, Rafael," you say. The way you say his name has his lower stomach turning. "What did you call me?"

Your hand lands on his, and he hears you dragging your chair closer. Rafael can only look as you fill his sight. "Sweetheart," he mumbles. It was condescending. A bloody insult. You got that, right?

Your eyes flicker down to his lips again. Rafael feels the sudden urge to grab your jaw and—

"Say it again."

"What?" he barks.

(…)

Ysabella lies with her chin in her hands and her feet kicking in the air.

You sit on the mattress beside her, your back supported by a mountain of fluffy pillows with silken covers and long, golden strings etched in the corners. "It's quite frequent in Navarra, especially in the Company’s headquarters. They're located way up to the north, right beside a large mountain range."

Ysabella’s eyes widen to two balls. "Really?" she asks with a gasp. "How frequent?"

"Usually, in the winter, but it can snow early in the year if it's particularly cold. I remember one freezing spring that had the fields painted white."

Ysabella kicks her feet back and forth. "In the spring?" she repeats in awe.

You can't help but smile. "Yes. There were no flowers that year."

The noblewoman extends her elbows and flops down on the bed. "You're so lucky!" she says wistfully, pivoting to lay with her belly up. Her dress gathers near her thighs. Ysabella looks at you upside down. "I've never seen snow even once in my life. It's never cold enough here to snow. The most I ever saw was hail in a particularly nasty storm."

From this angle, her cleavage is bare to you. Her dress hugs her breasts tightly, but you can see the extent of her golden skin perfectly. You clear your throat and look away. "You're not missing much," you tell her, suddenly very interested in the curtains. "Snow is mostly bothersome. And dangerous. I've seen people break their necks trying to walk over it. Plus, it's, you know. Cold."

Ysabella spins excitedly again, back to leaning on her elbows. But she no longer tucks her face between her palms — those are grabbing your forearm. "Describe it to me," she says, lips pouting in a flawless plea. "I've never once experienced it, but I can live vicariously through you."

Ysabella smiles then, one of her dazzling, perfect smiles. "Please."

Her curls frame her face, her eyes shine with eagerness, and her fingers squeeze your arm. You sigh. How can you say no? "Sure."

"Ah!" Ysabella squeals, and suddenly, she leans forward and plush, painted lips smooch yours. "Thank you."

You blink.

Ysabella is smiling, face back on her hands, feet kicking the air.

(…)

The entire piece is available on Patreon!

Part One — Hadrian, Alessa, Alain, Ysabella

Part Two — The Pirate King, Neia, Lance, Rafael

#Hadrian #Alessa #Rafael #Ysabella #The Golden Rose #patreon

292 notes · View notes

ckret2 · 4 months

Text

@bluefrostyy said: How did bills eye moved from his corner to his center XD

That's a terrific question I actually have a serious answer to!

So for context this comment was left on a post with this image:

About the writing system used in Bill's home dimension. I also illustrate him with an eye on his corner in other posts about his home dimension.

Small diversion: I actually do also occasionally illustrate him with an eye on the inside of his body to represent "psychic" perception (that is: the ability to see the third dimension)—

—as in his home dimension, having an "eyeball on the inside of your body"/inner eye is a non-literal visual metaphor for psychic powers (equivalent to how humans use the phrase "third eye").

But that's just supposed to be a visual metaphor to represent him looking at the third dimension; in reality his eye's in the corner where it belongs. Diversion over!

So I've mentioned recently that one of the consequences of living in a 2D universe is that to someone looking in from "above," a shape's perimeter is their outside/skin, and their internal organs are all on the inside of their shape—completely open and visible to the third dimension. (This is backed up in the original Flatland novel, where the main character Square mentions the visiting Sphere touching his "insides" because the sphere can reach it through the third dimension.) So if you were looking down on Bill's dimension you'd see this, exposed organs and all:

(just an illustrative example of the concept, I don't actually think their guts look LIKE THAT.)

Which means that for Bill to become the Bill we know today, at some point after he left the second dimension, he got skin or armor or an exoskeleton "over" and "under" his body to hide & protect his guts from being poked in the third dimension.

All of which is to say: since leaving the second dimension, Bill's had to make some SERIOUS surgical alterations to his body to accommodate living in the third dimension. Covering his guts is just one of MANY changes he continuously made over the eons since burning his universe.

Relocating his eye from a corner to the center of his body is just another thing he's had to do to adjust to 3D existence. An eye on one corner that's designed primarily to see in a thin horizontal line and that requires him to hover horizontally to see isn't as useful as an eye on the "inside" of his body that faces flat out toward the world and allows him to hover vertically. The new position WOULD look grotesque to a normal shape from his own dimension... but, hey, they've been extinct in the wild for a trillion years, so who cares.

For my writing needs I don't think the exact mechanism by which it was done is relevant. (Surgery by another shape doctor who'd moved to the third dimension? Snapped his fingers and did it himself automatically because he has godlike power? Slowly migrated as his body adjusted itself over time to accommodate his needs, the same way humans' muscle structures or bones can gradually change in response to how they live their lives but extended over billions of years?) What matters is: it was done deliberately, in response to living in the third dimension, because that's where he needed his eye to be.

The other survivors from his dimension—Kryptos, Hectorgon, Amorphous Shape—also have eyes in the middle of their bodies and also started off with eyes on their corners. (Hectorgon appears to have a mouth instead of an eye, but as Bill showed us in the penthouse scene those are the same organ for his species. Kryptos kept his eye in the original place, but it IS now forward facing, and he added a mouth in the middle of his body like the others.)

I think Bill was an early adopter of the new eye position: because being stupidly OP means it was easier for him; because he's not afraid of looking like a freak to his peers; and because since childhood a large part of his identity has been being "psychic"/"having an inner eye" so the idea of making that literal came naturally to him, it's making him a freak in a way that also highlights what makes him special.

#bill cipher #headcanons #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #bluefrostyy

63 notes · View notes

katiekatdragon27 · 5 months

Text

More Flatland stuffff~~~

[Cursive transcript: I'm so sorry this is so sudden, but I had to keep my Chosen safe!]

So, uh, the 4th dimension, am I right?????

So, on my last post, people were more interested in A. Tesseract than I thought. I did not expect her to stir so much interest, but here you go lol.

More under the cut lol / lots of notes:

Some basic information on 4th dimensional beings:

They refer to themselves as "hypersolids" and "polytopes". Only Tesseracts prefer a different name than just "hyper(insert shape here)". When talking to other dimensional beings, they call themselves "Spacelanders".

They usually keep their eyes closed, and they do not emote much.

Their bodies naturally morph as they talk. They are also partially transparent, so you can see their inside movements. Not organs or anything, but the next emotions or actions they are going to express. Sort of like key frames or a fade in effect.

They call "Spacelanders" "Heightlanders".

Their civilization is located in space. They are able to breathe through little pockets of air on their rings that recharge when they enter the atmosphere of other plants. (This is why they are spotted relatively frequently)

Buildings are constantly moving spirals. They also fly everywhere, so they require a lot of energy to maintain their health. Luckily, any stars nearby tend to charge them up just fine.

Also, everyone goes by they/them along with another pronoun if they choose. Gender constructs be damned (or certain groups are fighting for that).

There will be more once I think of it, but that's what I have in the world-building department right now.

Some basic information on Angelica "A." Tesseract (she/they):

She tends to say "I'm sorry" after anything they might think could have been of inconvenience or offensive.

They are relatively soft-spoken, but they are incredibly smart compared to her peers.

Her quiet nature causes others to disrespect and step all over her.

She overthinks LITERALLY EVERYTHING. You could tell her something that is even the slightest bit vague and they have the chance of spiraling.

She KNOWS there are more than four dimensions, but they are struggling to prove it with science.

They are much more emotional compared to other hypersolids. They tend to cry easily.

She chose A. Sphere because of his confidence and drive to get his points across. They admire him for that.

Some basic information on A. Sphere in this:

He's much less snarky. His whole vision of the world was destroyed in the blink of an eye, and he's stuck in another world completely unknown to him. He's going though it currently.

He's still blunt about everything. If you suck, he'll tell you. If you are cool, it'll take a little longer, but he'll tell you.

He got his eye busted after the attack on Messiah Inc. When getting removed from "Heightland", his eye got caught in the blow last minute and it got damaged. He can still open it slightly, but he can't see out of it.

He was relatively indifferent to seeing his body transparent. He was more worried about his eye injury over anything else.

At first, he did not like A. Tesseract (cuz kidnapping), but he learns to appreciate the gesture and does his best to help her out.

[Cursive transcript: For now, I'm afraid so... sorry. / I'm so sorry. If I was just a but faster, I could have saved your eye.]

Yeah, their friendship starts out really rough.

A. Sphere adjusted to the environment very poorly at first. He was very standoffish and snappy, but it then soured to just sorta feeling sad all the time. He gets better eventually the more he learns about the world, but it takes a lot of effort out of A. Tesseract to get him there.

I mean, he expected to die, lost his eye, everyone in "Heightland" hates him now, he lost his business and research, and he fails to take the blame for anything for a while. I would also be super pissed and sad.

A. Tesseract was not any better. She feels an incredible amount of guilt for not stepping in in time to prevent A. Sphere's eye damage, and she constantly apologies to him for everything. This sucks for A. Sphere since he finds it super annoying.

[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: You weren't supposed to bring them HERE! / A. Tesseract: I'm sorry, I had to save him- / N. H.Sphere: I should fire you-!]

N. H.Sphere is a mega grouch. He is A. Tesseract's boss who treats her terribly. Discrediting her work, ignoring their research, and just not valuing her opinion cuz women, he is not fun to talk to or just be around in general. No one knows how HR lets him stay in charge, but some theorize that he pays them off or something.

Despite all of the traumatic crap A. Sphere has gone though in this story, he still does not stand for disrespect from anyone. When he learns that A. Tesseract is constantly being pushed around by her bitchy boss, he decides to defend her.

This solidifies their friendship and later science partnership when the story ends. This also makes N. H.Sphere more resentful towards both A. Tesseract an A. Sphere. This leads to A. Tesseract actually getting fired from her job. Thanks A. Sphere.

[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: Why are you so scared? He's fine! / A. Tesseract: It's my un-medicated anxiety!!]

One of the downsides of being in the 4th dimension and living in space is that the gravitational pull is super sporadic with no real patterns. Some areas have super powerful gravity while others have zero. 4th dimension beings have learned to adjust perfectly fine.

The pressure changes and general lack of oxygen negatively impact A. Sphere's body, however, so to help him be okay, he sits in those vacuum boxes that allow for added pressure to be put on him to help even his breathing. He usually isn't put in unless he is fading in and out of consciousness, since he hates the confined space. It freaks out A. Tesseract every time it happens.

Her boss thinks she's stupid for worrying so much and using company tech. A. Tesseract worries more for A. Sphere than keeping her job, so she ignores N. H. Sphere.

[Cursive transcript: Care to see him again?]

Outside of the partial angst and stuff, this dimension is the reason why A. Sphere shows up in A. Square's hallucination.

During A. Square's trauma-induced hallucination, he shows up in the 4th dimension briefly with the Monarch of Pointland. A. Sphere and A. Tesseract take notice, and she offers him the ability to talk to A. Square one last time for closure reasons.

In this version, this scene would be longer, with A. Sphere possibly apologizing for denying the existence of the 4th dimension and not being able to assist A. Square in the way he wanted to. It's more wholesome and conclusive than transactional like in the movie. The other stuff is there too, but having more sentimental moments would be so cool.

----------

I am very sorry how messy these particular doodles are, I was drawing all these super late at night during my shift, so I was not paying much attention to the flow of the images. When the inspo hits, you don't really realize how incohesive they are until you start photographing the images to post lol

Thank you once again for reading this whole thing, and have a wonderful day :)

#once again i apologize for the terrible camera quality #i really hope this is cohesive enough #i got my siblings to and dad to watch flatland #this would be a win if they didn't fall asleep 🙄#except for one of them but they thought it was too weird #uncultured #stupid ass au i made b/c i can't cope with my favorite character dying like a normal person #anyways im really starting to enjoy a tesseract and the story she can tell #i don't think anyone has made a character that acknowledges that there are multiple dimensions without experiencing the horrors #so i think im original in that aspect lol #if not please tell me so the two can meet and complain about society and geek out about science or something #flatland #flatland 2007 #flatland the movie #a square #a sphere #a tesseract #flatland oc #flatland fan art #katiekatdragon27

50 notes · View notes

theautismgoblin · 3 months

Text

Dusk of Flatland Page 1

Okay so you remember when I said I was making a comic, WELL I kinda sorta maybe,

FINISHED THE FIRST PAGE!!!!

The second page isn't done, but I don't wanna wait to post this!! SO HERE IT IS!!!

Tw- Character death (both Implied and shown), Eye trauma and blood, racism, and ableism

Please read with caution!!! This is very heavy and dark..

--Lines spoken-- From each panel (Just so folks know where something is)

Yin-yang "Hello to all Denizens of Flatland"

Yin-yang "It has come to our attention many are frustrated"

Bill "Scuse me"

Yin-yang "With our rule"

Yin-yang "Especially with the recent "Clean-up"

Yin-yang "So we gather today with an offering"

Yin-yang "For the untimely demise of one "Liam"'

Yin-yang "We offer up one of our own"

Yin-yang "For execution"

Crowd- Murmers and whispers

Crowd "A defect?!" "They're an imperfect??" "Who knew?!" mixed with Murmers and whistles and a gasp

Bill "Wait defect, but?"

Bill -very quiet - "no"

Bill- gets louder "NO NO NO NOT THEM NO"

Crowd-"Hey" "Watch it"

Celeste - *Heavy breathing*

Yin-yang "An eye for an eye as they say"

Bill "STOP THE EXECUTION"

Crowd "What?" "Watch it" "HEY"

Bill "CELESTE"

Celeste's eye is impaled by the spear from behind.. Scattering out their blood.

Guard circle "Hey ya' ain't allowed up here TRIANGLE"

Bill "MOVE IT" and a shove

End of transcript

Click for better quality

Ooohhhh boi, this took too long to make.. And I STILL GOT ANOTHER PAGE to DO!!!

Also I am sorry to all Celeste lovers, it had to happen..

Part 2--- HERE

#art #gravity falls bill #bill cipher #gravity falls #oc x canon #oc #oc art #I LOVE SHADING #angst #trauma #fire #dusk #flatsona #flatland oc #flatland #Au????#yin yang #(they're terrible)#eyes

25 notes · View notes

arthurdrakoni · 8 months

Text

Flatland is an underrated classic that imagines life in a 2-D world. This is my review.

You’ll get a lot of answers when you ask when speculative fiction was born. Some will tell you that it began with Hugo Gernsback and the pulps. Others will say that it goes as far back as mythology and folklore. Personally, I go with those who say that it began with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, though I don’t discount earlier works such as Gulliver’s Travels or The Tempest. I say all of this because I’m taking us back to the 19th Century for today’s review. We’re going to review the classic novel Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by Edwin A. Abbott.

Imagine, if you will, a sheet of paper that is infinitely large and stretching to all sides. Now imagine that on this sheet of paper there are a series of geometric shapes, but instead of staying in place these shapes move about and have complex social lives. Welcome to Flatland, a world of only two dimensions. There is width and length, but there is no height or depth.

The book follows A. Square who is…well, he’s literally a two-dimensional square. He acts as our guide to the realm of Flatland and relates to use the ways of his countrymen and their doings. There are two main events that serve to completely change A. Square’s world view. The first is his contact with Lineland, a world of only one dimension, and the second is meeting a figure known as Lord Sphere. Lord Sphere claims to come from a strange world of three dimensions called Spaceland.

The book goes into great detail about how life works in a world with only two dimensions. For example, it is customary to meet someone by feeling them in order to determine their shape. It’s also considered polite to give directions to the way north when meeting a traveler on the road. Societal rank and job are determined by the number of sides that one has, with circles being at the top of things. Each successive generation gains an additional side, except for the low ranking isosceles triangles, though there are exceptions. Women, being incredibly sharp and pointy lines, have restrictions placed on them so that they can avoid constantly killing people by accident. We also learn much of the history of Flatland, such as why colors have been banned by the upper classes. There is some pretty great world building in this novel.

That having been said the fact the citizens of Flatland are all living geometric shapes does limit the amount of exploration that can go into their biology and physics. A. Square does hint at future explanations, but he decides that it will take up too much time and bore the reader. Or to put it another way, if you wonder how they eat and breathe and other science facts…well, I’m sure you all know the words to the Mystery Science Theater 3000 theme song. You’ll also notice that Flatland society bares more than a passing resemblance to the society of Victorian Britain. This is intentional, as Abbott intended for Flatland to be just as much a satire as a compelling story. For example, the class system of Flatland is rather absurd when given further scrutiny, but Abbott was making about about how the British class system was absurd and ultimately rather arbitrary.

Since it was written in 1884 Flatland has long since fallen into the Public Domain. As such, many other writer have tried their hand at tackling the subject matter Flatland is built upon. Usually they will focus on one particular aspect while ignoring the others. Admittedly I haven’t read any of these books, but of the ones I’ve heard of thanks to TV Tropes I’d say Planiverse sounds the most promising. It attempts to look at how biology, chemistry, physics and culture would function in a realistic 2-D world.

Have you read Flatland? If so, what did you think?

Link to the full review on my blog: https://drakoniandgriffalco.blogspot.com/2017/02/book-review-flatland-by-edwin-abbot.html?m=1

57 notes · View notes

scorchieart · 9 months

Text

Stuck in Traffic Jam

Genre: Comedy

Characters: Clavis Lelouch & the foreign affairs faction

Wordcount: 600

Prompt: Stuck in a traffic jam

A/N: My gift for the 2023 Ikemen Exchange over on @flash-exchange for @spoopy-fish-writes! The request was for Clavis, but I think we can all agree his stories are infinitely more entertaining with the squad in tow.

The carriage lurched left, knocking Clavis’s arm from its perch on the windowsill and jerking him awake. He stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes, blocking out the sunlight while taking in the familiar scene before him. Over the years he had grown accustomed to road trips passed without words, although those were typically the consequence of indifference among his faction members. But today’s was a stillness Clavis did not often experience in the company of Noble Beasts.

The shaking disturbed Luke’s slumber for a moment, but whatever the boy was dreaming of proved superior to the aftershock of a bumpy road as he shook his head drowsily and muttered something about a legendary beehive before resting his head against Clavis’s shoulder and resuming his snoring. Nokto slept soundlessly across from the pair completely undisturbed by the wobbly ride, his arms and legs folded so tightly against himself he resembled a hibernating hedgehog. But it didn’t take long to discover why Nokto had squished himself to take as little space as possible as directly beside him sat several miniature towers of books, the steadfast arm of Chevalier wrapped protectively around them. Chevalier’s other arm was preoccupied with keeping the book he was reading steady as the carriage traversed through the rough terrain, and the sight made Clavis heckle on dried saliva as he cleared his throat in disdain.

“We’re not there yet?” Clavis asked, his voice grainy with sleep. Without waiting for the reply Chevalier certainly would never give, Clavis carefully lowered Luke’s head onto the seat beside him and stuck his head out the window.

With all the jerking and jostling the carriage was making, Clavis was sure their snoozing squad had stumbled upon some obscure mountain path on their way to the Jadean Royal Gala, but one look outside showed flatlands as far as the eye could see. Puzzled, he looked at the ground and watched the thin wheels of the carriage violently rise and fall as they rolled over hundreds of randomly-shaped chunks of wood scattered across the road, each one battered and chipped as if a tree had been ripped apart. The carriage bucked and jolted as it crossed each piece, and as Clavis turned his head to ask the driver why they were taking this path he spotted dozens more carriages lined up in front of them slowly bumbling over the woody route in turn.

“Apologies, Your Highness!” the driver called when he noticed Clavis’s top half dangling outside the window. “A herd of sheep have broken out of their pen and are blocking the path ahead. This is the quickest route to Jade, I’m afraid, so we’ll have to wait until they settle.”

“How obscene!” Clavis yelled, crawling back into the carriage and frantically poking Luke’s arm. “Get up! No, I don’t have any honey, but this is no time to eat! I bet exclusive selling rights of my next entry in the Lelouch Trap Series on us getting there before Prince Silvio— Nokto! Up, up!”

“How come Chevie doesn’t hafta go?” Luke whined blearily as Clavis latched onto his and Nokto’s wrists.

“He’s not complaining,” Clavis said, forcing open the carriage door with a sharp kick. The carriage lilted at a snail’s pace, but that didn’t stop Clavis from leaping out with boundless flourish and bolting towards the Jadean palace. Onlookers from within carriages watched with awe at the manic prince dragging two half-asleep men in his wake, but in all the commotion Chevalier merely sighed, laid his books out more evenly on the now-emptied seats, and casually flipped to the next page.

I admire and envy anyone with the superpower to read books in a moving vehicle. I nearly vomit when I so much as read a text on my phone.

Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar @my-day6

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri fanfic #flash exchange #clavis lelouch #ikepri clavis #luke randolph #ikepri luke #nokto klein #ikepri nokto #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #scorchie writes

67 notes · View notes

irregularbillcipher · 8 months

Text

something that i think a lot about is a square just casually mentioning that his grandfather was isosceles and was only allowed into the equilateral class very shortly before his death, because i don't think a realizes how incredibly bizarre what he's saying is

like okay we have a few possibilities here

one:

a is just wrong. like let's get that outta the way, a lot of times a is just straight up wrong, or assumes propaganda he's been fed is true. he tends to be more wrong about larger societal things-- ableism against irregulars, misogyny towards lines, classism towards isosceles (and especially specimens, which falls into ableism again as specimens are isosceles considered "unintelligent" because of their angle size,) etc.-- and is less likely to be completely incorrect about his own family history, but, well. a is a. we can never discount that sometimes he just doesn't know what's up

two:

this is his maternal grandfather, and his equilateral father just married the daughter of someone who was, at the time, classified as isosceles. not impossible, but pretty unlikely considering flatland culture. the lower the classes are, the more stringent they are in marrying within the same class, in the hopes of producing a son that elevates the family name up a rung, and remember, equilaterals aren't high class. they're middle-- lower middle, arguably, since they aren't yet counted as "gentlemen" and are still considered part of the "acute rabble." they're afforded some degree of humanity but they're still only one step above the lowest class able-bodied shape. they're still counted as some of the lower, "least intelligent" of their species, and it's stressed pretty hard that they need to do whatever they can to move out of that class

so could a's equilateral dad have married an isosceles-born girl? sure, there weren't any laws explicitly against it, and i'm sure most isosceles families would have been absolutely thrilled to hear an equilateral wanted to court their daughter. would he have married someone in a lower caste?

i really, really doubt it. especially since a is so incredibly brainwashed-- he would have mentioned his mother being lower class, or his father "foolishly" choosing a marriage out of sentimentality when talking about marriages that are "less carefully" arranged. (no insult to his own mother, i'm sure, but he is just stating facts and all!!! <- heavy sarcasm)

three:

a's dad was isosceles-born and "adopted" by equilaterals, and somehow found out that his birth father was promoted to being an equilateral before he passed.

not super likely, imo, but i figured i'd toss it in here. maybe someone fucked up somewhere along the way and let him know he was adopted, maybe a's dad got in contact with his birth father, maybe said birth father was remeasured and declared as Actually Equilateral.

the thing that makes me really not believe that-- other than these "adoptions" being very, very closed-- you would think a would discuss this when talking about the process of isosceles children being stolen by the board and given to equilaterals. if that was a part of his family history, and was a known part of his family history, he would likely bring it up there... so i think we gotta try again.

four, and, i think, most interesting:

the grandfather was on a's dad's side, and he was promoted to equilateral... and so was a's dad.

lemme explain.

like i implied in the theory above, if a's grandfather had truly been an isosceles who had a child who qualified as an equilateral, he would not have been allowed to keep his son. that's how flatland works, because flatland is terrible!

so, a's family is just a normal isosceles family. a's father wasn't taken from his grandfather because there was no reason for him to be. a's dad grows up with his family, marries someone... and then has a.

and a is a square.

a being a square is far too big of a leap in class ascension for the circles to be able to justify. an equilateral from an isosceles is to be encouraged! (within reason.) it keeps hope amongst the lower classes after all, but a square? the implications of an isosceles being able to produce a square poke too many holes in the laws of configuration.

so they backtrack. a's father was an equilateral after all-- he has to have been! he couldn't have had a square otherwise, of course he was... and his father was too, to avoid the generational caste jump from being too severe. they missed an equilateral birth amongst the rabble a generation or so ago-- it was probably the grandfather's parents' fault, somehow. they're gone, after all, it's easy to blame them.

that "moral shock" from the isosceles many years ago who accidentally skewered a polygon definitely stunted your family's growth and you've all been slowly earning it back, and we missed it! it usually takes so much longer after a mishap, so we didn't think to keep our eye on you, whoopsie! but gosh, you guys did it, you earned it, you're such go-getters, so here, we'll make it right-- you both should have been equilateral, you poor things, so here's the votes saying so... and good news! you get to keep your boy! no pesky adoptions necessary because we don't want to have to explain to a square family what's happening, we don't have protocol for this just make sure he knows how Good and Just the laws of configuration are-- and maybe keep this little ascension to yourself, you know, as your start your new business career with your oh-so-promising son

and a's father does keep quiet, for himself, but maybe mentions that his father was given a certificate-- very soon before he passed, very soon after a was born-- as a sort of motivational thing. and a's only real memory of his grandfather is him explaining that if it only hadn't been for that stupid relative, generations ago, he would have been declared an equilateral so much earlier!

and a, like always, is just so brainwashed and has so few critical thinking skills that he doesn't stop to think why his father would have been raised by an isosceles if everything were actually above board

35 notes · View notes

ofeverykinnetre · 5 months

Text

So uhhh my headcanons on feminine clothing in the “main four” Westerosi regions in my mind, ie the four regions that are right next to each other with the majority of influence in the Seven Kingdoms and the most similar cultures. The Riverlands, Westerlands, Stormlands, and Reach. In my head they all wear various forms of clothing from roughly the late middle ages, with specific styles for each region

The Westerlands are a pretty basic Tudor shape. They’re all about ostentatious displays of wealth in every possible way, rich fabrics, rich jewels, time consuming constructions, etc. The flaunting of wealth extends even to things like wider sleeves that use up more fabric. In general, the idea is not just to show off, but also to sort of stand out against the landscape. With lots of flatlands, Westerland women prefer deeper, richer colors and textures. Plus it means not very much floral or nature motifs in fashion.

The Riverlands are similar to the Westerlands in silhouette as they are right next to each other, but are much more subdued when it comes to extravagant jewels. They’re a more down to earth culture, so narrower sleeves and modest necklines, more gloves and hats as you get further north. That being said, as they are practical people impracticality is their version of wealth flaunting - ie, clothing that is time consuming to make, costs a lot of fabric and material, and/or is difficult to wear and move in. Ruffs, even small ones, are a staple amongst all nobility. For their highest born ladies, especially on special occasions they’ll break out the French farthingale. And of course, the whackiest of shapes for headgear.

I envision that as you get further south in Westeros the clothing becomes less structured. The Reach is the epitome of the romanticized medieval period, where they believe in true knights and chivalry. Their clothes are all designed with a romantic aim in mind. The silhouette allows for a flattering structure no matter your body type, and the skirts get to flow freely around you. The Reach style is the epitome of fashion in Westeros, and it’s influences are being seen all over - even Cersei Lannister as queen occasionally veers away from her staunch loyalty to her homeland’s styles for the sake of staying fashionable and attractive. The Reach is a massive chunk of Westeros, so the border parts of the reach do bear similarities with styles from other regions. Go north and you’ll see some Westerlands decor elements on Reach silhouettes, go towards the Stormlands and the fabrics get thicker and more durable, more similar to houppelandes.

The Stormlands have been wearing the same styles for years and years, as they have less care for frivolities like fashion (so they say - they still very much like to dress wealthy). That’s only recently started to change, what with a Baratheon on the throne bringing an eye to their region for more than just their port trade. Less dress structure in the south, and a cage skirt like a farthingale is incredibly impractical in stormy weather. Instead, it’s a lot of layers of very heavy fabrics. Richer women show off with more and more expensive damasks and velvets, along with more fabric. Using more fabric than is necessary is the ultimate showing of wealth, and skirts being so long and heavy that the noblewomen have to actually carry them shows how little they have to work for that wealth. I think amongst younger people, Reach styles are starting to have an influence as they are right beside the Stormlands. Burgundian gowns have become all the rage, especially as you can add fur linings to it (both useful and showy in the windy Stormlands). In general more defined and higher waists are becoming much more commonly seen, especially once Renly married Margaery and his supporters in the Stormlands start to emulate her.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #asoiaf hair and clothing #asoiaf headcanons

22 notes · View notes

dayo-doodles · 1 month

Note

Dayo, can you tell us more bout' the horses?

Dayo: "Well, they're my favorite animal ever! They're mainly used to help move things around Flatland, make deliveries and drive carts so citizens can go everywhere, that kind of thing. Plus they're really gentle and will eat out your hands!! I read about it. Oh and they love sugar squares! I wonder if one has ever mistake Dr Poly for a sugar square?"

Dr Poly: "Thankfulky most horses are well trained. Did you know there are also royal horses used for ceremonies and the royal guards to ride on? They're the most well fed i have ever laid eyes on."

Dayo: "Heh, just say they're fat! Like the Circles!"

Dr Poly: "Dayo!"

Dayo: *Laughs*

#dayo #flatland oc #flatland #askdayoanything #gravity falls #dr poly

9 notes · View notes

storiesbyrhi · 9 months

Text

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Chapter Summary: Violence comes twofold. 2909 words.

Notes: Since canon Eddie doesn’t exist in the 1986 timeline, Chrissy’s death went down differently. This chapter explains what happened to Hawkins’ sweetest cheerleader. Stranger Things terminology you’ll need to know: The Void.

Credits to @jo-harrington, @toomanyacorns, and @somnambulic-thing for helping with this chapter, and a huge thank you to @munson-blurbs, who helped map out the action sequences of this chapter and the next.

1843

Penelope’s powdered spell was like anthrax to the vampires, and it was the turning point in the battle for the flatlands. The coven lost not another member from that year forward, but the colony of vampires grew more feral and savage when faced with their new mortality. They burned and pillaged just as fast as you could give and take their breath.

Some of the coven focused their time on helping the humans rebuild structures and acquire new seeds to plant. Some of them worked tirelessly, tinkering away at the collective memory of the flatlands, ensuring vampires and witches remained folklore and scary stories to tell in the dark. Some, like you, felt emboldened by a bloodlust that could only be satiated by killing evil.

“Did we fail her?” your mother asked your aunt as they watched you arm yourself with pockets of Penelope’s powder and blessed blades.

Sally and Gillian had borne the weight of their decision differently. For sister, they were not much alike. Sally, your mother, was burdened with regret whereas Gillian grew harder with each difficult choice she made.

“This is holy work,” Gillian stated.

“Is it?” Sally was grief-stricken. You used to be gentle, feeding wildflowers to deer and making mischief by moonlight. Now you slept, ate, and killed.

“The Witches Who Came Before foretell of us leaving this place. The humans will remain on consecrated ground and we will retire to where no sisters have been dissected by beasts. We will not live on their graves. When we leave, she will heal,”

“Will she ever know?”

“No,” Gillian answered. It has been seven years of not knowing. “Not ever.”

…

1986

Between the burning yarrow spell that had not stuck and the magic bath that brought Eddie back, you felt practiced in the healing arts. There wouldn’t be time for any rituals though. You would have mere seconds to take the twisted, pulsating flesh Henry Creel grew into in the Upside Down and restore it. The spell would take the inner magic you possessed and would force you to deliver it by touch.

A potion, though, could help the cause. All the plants you’d used before became paste in your mortar and pestle. Echinacea and elecampane. Rue, sweetgrass, and yarrow. As you worked, you spoke freely, writing a spell into the air.

“Seven years of cheated death,

Felt deep pain but kept his breath.

These plants I crush and bend to will,

Impart my magic,

Let me heal to kill.”

You scooped the paste into a pouch and then stood at the kitchen bar on unsteady feet. There was more to be done. An easy spell to hide the night from anyone who went looking, witches or monsters alike. A candle and an old spell uttered, you could finally crawl into your bed and close your eyes.

…

Like your body was set to a nighttime alarm, your eyes snapped open as soon as the sun had set. You moved quickly through the trailer, expecting Eddie to be there. No vampire. No bat. Just a groggy head after only a few hours of sleep and a pouch on the kitchen bench reminding you of what the night would bring.

After pacing and trying to telepathically call Eddie home (home…?) you settled your nerves with tea and tried to stomach some food.

Hand. Spoon. Bowl. Mouth. Hand. Spoon. Bowl. It was mechanical until the taste turned bitter. You pulled the spoon from your mouth to find a pen. Before you, the bowl was pushed off the bench and instead, your notebook sat open.

“A witch cannot fight alone,” was scrawled out.

The Witches Who Came Before had never initiated contact before. They’d never taken your hand for automatic writing without you calling first. You watched helplessly as your arm moved on its own accord, the pen gliding along the paper.

“He knows,” came the next caution.

“I know,” you said. “I know you’ve warned the coven. I know what’s at stake,”

“It is coming into focus. The voice that called you to consecrated ground.”

You paused, reading the words a couple of times over. “You said I should have never come here,” you reminded them.

“It is coming into focus,” was repeated. “A witch cannot fight alone. So, a witch will not fight alone.”

Did they mean the humans? El and Will and their own coven of sorts?

“You were wrong?” you asked them. Could they be wrong? Was that possible? “What… What do you see now? What’s coming into focus?”

The words were ripping from the pen too quickly, letters stacked on top of one another. Your hand hurt, the grip too tight.

HISTORY WILL NOT REPEAT A witch will not fight alone A WITCH WILL NOT repeat history will not repeat history LORE WILL BE REWRITTEN A witch will not fight alone a witch will not fight alone HISTORY REWRITTEN lore lore lore rewritten a witch will not fight alone a witch will not fight alone he knows he knows he knows A witch will not fight alone We Are Superstition a witch a witch A WITCH will not fight alone He came calling He came for help Not alone. Not alone. Not alone. History will not repeat.

The pen flew from your hand and across the room, embedding itself into the cheap plaster wall of the trailer. You were breathing heavily.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath. They were gone, leaving no comfort nor clear warning, just a hollow sort of fear and sense that maybe now the calling to Hawkins had indeed been sanctified.

You cleaned the mess off the kitchen floor, then considered leaving Eddie a note. Something in you said that if he wanted, he could find you. With one last look at the trailer you’d barely had a fortnight in, you locked the door and got in your car.

…

Vecna had ripped Hawkins apart using each of the four gates as a starting point. The gateways to the Upside Down represented a place of death, but not all of them were accessible. Max’s death (and subsequent resurrection at the hands of El) took place inside the Creel House, which was reduced to rubble, burying gate four too deep to get to. Patrick McKinney died over Lovers’ Lake, making gate three underwater. Both Nancy and Robin were violently against that option. Fred Benson’s road top ending left gate two hidden under thick layers of asphalt and concrete, the street having caved in entirely. That left the first gate, the one that had festered open under the corpse of Chrissy Cunningham.

Haunted and hunted, Chrissy had been chased into the woods near Hawkins High by visions of her monstrous mother. There, her body broke and the end of her life had ushered in Vecna’s dark hold over the town. The gateway left in the wake of the murder was the one you, Nancy, and Robin climbed through.

The Upside Down was eerie. It felt like a place that had absolutely no right existing. Doomed from inception. It smelt of ash and sulfur. The bodies of what looked like malformed bats were rotting everywhere. And it rained a kind of soot you’d seen slowly appearing in Hawkins.

Vines covered a lot of the landscape. They moved, like pulsating appendages. The motion of them, sliding and crawling over one another, reminded you of the squirming desperateness of garter snakes as they ball themselves together for days on end.

If your coven believed Hawkins was no place for a witch, what would they think of the hellscape you were marching through with only teenage girls for backup?

“What if he’s not in there?” Robin asked, her eyes glued to the ground as she carefully stepped over hivemind vines and other ghoulish obstacles.

Nancy stopped so abruptly that you bumped into the back of her. She turned around quickly, eyes wide. “What if he’s not in there?!” she repeated. “How… How did we not think-”

“He is,” you interrupted. “I can feel him.”

Their looks of relief lasted only a second before the fear returned and you all continued.

Treading a similar path in the real Hawkins, the rest of the humans were already coaxing Vecna out. Will’s skin prickled with goosebumps, the hairs on his arms standing on end. El could hear that voice in her head. “I can see…” he began. “I can see all. All your plans. All your hopes… Soon to be failures… I told you… It was just the beginning.”

The staircase in the Upside Down Creel House was covered in writhing tentacle vines. “These attacked… last time we were here,” Nancy whispered. She shared the same raw bruise as Robin. Steve would have shared it, had he survived.

Steve. He was all the girls could think about. How he’d led them up those stairs. How he’d stood and watched in awe as Nancy fired her sawed-off shotgun and Robin threw Molotov cocktails. How it was meant to be the three of them.

You stood in his place and sooner than they would have liked, you’d arrived in front of Vecna’s sleeping body.

“Shhhesh,” Robin hissed quietly. “Didn’t think he could get any uglier.”

The bullets and flames slowed him down but they hadn’t killed him. The scars became part of him, as all of his scars had. They shaped him. Built him. Powered him.

“Stay at the door,” you whispered to them. “If it looks bad, fire once then run.”

Nancy and Robin nodded in unison.

The room was quiet. Ironically, it felt cleaner than anywhere else in the Upside Down. It smelt of dust and human life. Had Henry carved out a small piece of normal there? Was there a soul beneath the horror?

You moved towards him. Each step was measured and you watched him for any twitch of movement. He felt sedate, but Vecna had mastered trickery long ago.

He was held high by the attached vines. “Per magica, oriri me,” you cast, levitating from the ground steadily until you were close enough that you could see the veins and tubing pulsate, you stopped. At the room’s threshold, Nancy and Robin held hands.

“Seven years of cheated death,” you whispered. “Felt deep pain but kept his breath.”

You covered your fingers in the potion and reached out swiping it across Vecna’s chest.

“These plants I crush and bend to will,

Impart my magic,

Let me heal to kill.”

The room held its breath, waiting for something.

Back on Earth, El and Will were laying side by side in the dirt near the rubble of Creel House. Jonathan knelt beside his brother, Joyce next to El. Their eyes were closed but they weren’t asleep. El had pulled them into The Void. It was quiet.

There, El and Will – siblings for all intents and purposes – stood facing Vecna. “A vessel,” Vecna almost crooned, reaching his clawed hand to Will’s soft face.

El stood between them. “Do not touch him,”

“This is done, Eleven. Look around. Hawkins is in ruins. Your friends have fled... those that still live,”

“It is not done until you are dead,” she spat back at him.

Vecna almost laughed. Almost.

You repeated the spell again and again, covering Vecna in the thick potion of flower and magic. His skin was changing, clearing.

“Ho-ly-shiiiiit,” Robin said.

Nancy’s eyes glazed over with tears.

It was working. It was fucking working.

Vecna reached out for Will a second time, but froze in place as he felt a burning sensation. The children in front of him both stumbled backward, staring at his body. He looked down and watched scar tissue heal in real time.

He roared; El and Will covered their ears, screaming at the sound.

“What! Is! This?!” The force of his anger knocked them off their feet and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

“Where’d he go?! El?!”

“He’s- He’s-” But she was too panicked to say it. Vecna had returned to his physical body in the Upside Down.

Will and El bolted upright, panting. Their families embraced them. It’s all they could do. It was all up to the bravest teenage girls they knew and a witch they hoped was stronger than Vecna.

His eyes snapped open and his hateful stare bore into your soul.

You don’t know how you did it and neither did they, but your voice was loud in Nancy and Robin’s heads. Run. It was too late. Vecna’s arm shot out and held them frozen in place. The slithery tentacles peeled off the wall and wrapped around the girls’ wrists and ankles. They struggled to no avail.

“Your fight’s with me now. Let the humans go,”

“What are you?” Vecna asked. The healing magic was spreading slowly, a thin line of porcelain skin and a brilliantly blue eye twinkled with curiosity.

“You want to talk? Let them go.”

Vecna looked over at Nancy and Robin. With a flick of the hand, one of the tentacles tightened, breaking Robin’s wrist. A sharp intake of air let him know it hurt you too. “All you… heroes… You and Eleven… So much power wasted on loving the humans…”

It wasn’t going to work. You knew it then. The healing was happening too slowly. He’d kill the girls before he was Henry enough for you to use witchfire to any effect. He’d never let them go.

The only bargaining chip you had was the one thing you could never offer – insight into the craft. Even if you could save Nancy and Robin now, handing that over would doom them and the entire world later.

You had answered the call to come to Hawkins.

You had done what you thought was just and kind.

You had loved the humans for all of your years.

You would die with them, fighting with them, for them.

The coven would intercept him. They could do together what you could never do alone. Not alone echoed in your mind. The Witches Who Came Before. Not alone.

As Vecna held his claw out, hellbent on snapping Nancy’s left ankle, a loud and revolting squelching sound ripped through the room, followed by a howl spilling from Vecna’s mouth. He thrashed, hitting you hard, sending you toppling to the floor. He crashed down next to you, quickly standing to face his new enemy.

You followed his gaze to where something – moving so fast it was like watching static – was shredding through the tentacles holding the girls up. Suddenly, they were free. Both their faces were red and covered in tears. Before taking in any new information, you yelled, “Go!”

Robin pulled Nancy up and they were gone. In their place stood a figure with blood and Vecna-goo dripping from their face and hands.

Eddie.

…

1836

It was unmistakably vampire carnage.

They had come in the night and stolen a child. They’d left her father, the village’s best apple farmer, weeping and wounded. He was bleeding out, the only way to save him would be to let him turn. That was a fate worse than death though.

“It begins now,” Gillian spoke to the coven. “Witchfire at will. Penelope, all your focus must be on finding a true death for them. We will create closer borders. Accompany the humans whenever they leave. We will hunt them… Make no mistake, sisters… This is war.”

Eddie met you by the stream that night. The grief was written all over your face and it shattered him to see. He held on tightly, arms squeezed around you, and kissed the top of your head.

“I can’t leave now,” you whimpered, crying softly into his coolness.

“I know, little witch, I know.”

“No. No! You do not understand. There’s no way both you and I survive this! There’s no… No… No us… anymore.” You hit at his chest and pushed him away, only to let him pull you back into his embrace.

Eddie was stoic, but if he was honest with himself – a little pissed off that he was able to feel heartbreak when his heart didn’t beat at all. He hurt more then than he ever had before. Dying hurt less.

“And I, for my part, cannot stop them. The chasm between them and I has grown. They are… becoming suspicious of me. If I-”

“I know. I know. I don’t… I don’t want you to…” But you did. You did want him to be able to stop the colony from reigning hell on the flatlands. You knew he couldn’t, not if you wanted him to live. “You have to leave. You must go somewhere far away from here.”

There was no more discussion for there were no more options. Eddie could not fight against the colony; it would be suicide. He couldn’t and wouldn’t join them either. Not if it brought harm to you, or your coven and human charges. So, he would run.

“I would die again and again, my love, if I meant I met you again and again,” Eddie whispered. “I have loved you more than I have loved life, than blood and the night.”

Eddie took your face in his hands, pushing his forehead against yours. In your last kiss, he split his lip and bit down on yours.

“Blood of my blood,” he said. “My little witch.”

Tears poured down your face. Between shaky breaths, you replied, “Blood of my blood. My lonely vampire.”

End Note: The Grimoire and timeline have been updated. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings! xo Rhi

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Vampire!Eddie

160 notes · View notes

neopronouns-in-action · 5 months

Text

Neopronouns in Action #069: First Day of School

Neopronouns: zo/zol/zov/zolself which follow the same rules as he/him/his/himself

Replace he with zo

Replace him with zol

Replace his with zov

Replace himself with zolself

EX:

"He is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as he gets a fence set up around his yard so the puppy can go outside without him having to walk it. His uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting him use, since he lost his. He's going to buy toys and train the puppy himself.”

Becomes:

"Zo is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as zo gets a fence set up around zov yard so the puppy can go outside without zol having to walk it. Zov uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting zol use, since zo lost zov. Zo's going to buy toys and train the puppy zolself.”

= = =

Another Flatland short story, which will make a lot more sense if you go read Flatland.

Trigger warning for child abuse and police brutality.

= = =

069: First Day of School

“Alright, students, when I call your name, you will come north one at a time, and feel the angle on this specimen. Then you will return to your seats and write south what you think the answer is. You all remember your lessons from before your break, I hope? Eating lunch hasn’t erased your memories?”

“Yes.” Finley said, along with a simultaneous chorus of other yeses, nos and confused, “uhhs...” from the rest of zov classmates.

Zo had started out confidant with zov answer, but now zo was confused. Was zo answering yes that zo remembered zov lessons, or yes that lunch had made zol forget? This was zov first day at school, zov first day somewhere without zov mother there to supervise. It was frightening and exciting and fun. Right at this moment it was mostly confusing.

But Teacher Benami didn’t seem to care how confused the class was, because he started calling names. And because no one in the class had a byname that started with A, “Finley Brytye.” was the first name to be called.

Finley obediently moved to the front of the classroom, carefully maneuvering around the angles of zov classmates, and approached the blurry, almost imperceptible point of brightness that zo recognized only as Teacher Benami’s eye through sheer habit, and the brighter point that zo could only assume was the eye of the specimen. Since Finley sat at the back of the classroom, zo could only see the dim lines that were the backs of the rest of zov classmates.

Only because zo’d navigated this route dozens of times now did zo manage to avoid bumping into any of zov classmates as zo made zov way to the front of the large classroom where zov teacher was waiting. Everyone else made it look so easy, zo was constantly ashamed of zov clumsiness and did zov best to hide it.

This would be the first time Finley actually tested out zov educated Feeling skill. North until now, it had been nothing but theory, with Teacher Benami explaining the different kinds of angles, the scale from .5 to 59 degrees that indicated a wretched Isosceles--

(Any time zov parents talked about Isosceles, they always referred to them as ‘wretched’, so Finley now automatically placed the word ‘wretched’ in front of ‘Isosceles’ without even thinking about it)

--and how the students were to carefully feel along the angle of the specimen with their cillia, making sure not to press their side against it, or they might hurt themselves.

The specimen was, of course, a wretched Isosceles, which wasn’t a person, but it would give them practice for Feeling real people to tell their angles.

Finley’s mother had taught zol how to feel to recognize certain people, like zov siblings, father, and herself, but zo’d never thought about the measurements of their angles before in numbers, or anything besides a personal marker.

Finley approached cautiously, not wanting to bump into the specimen or zov teacher now that zo was closer. Finley’s angle was 60°, which was less dangerous than the angle of a wretched Isosceles (or Nature forbid, a Woman), but still much sharper and dangerous than that of a Square, or Pentagon, or any of the more elevated classes.

Zo was very close to the specimen and Teacher Benami now, and Finley paused for a moment, suddenly nervous. Did zo really have to touch the wretched Isosceles? What if its acute angle was contagious? Finley’s parents sometimes worried about zol and zov brothers being “infected” by too much contact with wretched Isosceles, it was why zo and his brothers always had to walk the long way to school, to avoid passing the work sector where the wretched Isosceles lived.

“Go on, son,” Teacher Benami said, chuckling a little, as though reading Finley’s mind, “It’s chained so securely, it couldn’t bite even if it wanted to.”

Finley still hesitated. North until this moment, zo’d never been this close to a wretched Isosceles before, let alone been preparing to touch one. “Can I wash my cillia afterward?” Zo asked, afraid of the infection zov parents were always whispering about.

Teacher Benami’s eye brightened in a smile, his laugh was louder this time, and Finley felt a ripple through the air as Teacher Benami waved his cillia in a gesture of mirth as he laughed, “Yes, yes, you may, Finley, and good on you for asking! That’s the spirit! But hurry on now, everyone needs to have their turn. Feel the angle right there where the eye is, figure out what degree you think it is, then you can go wash your cillia.”

With Teacher Benami’s urging, Finley gave in and scooted close to the brightly glowing eye, reaching out with zov foremost cillia, stretching it so much it started to hurt.

Zov cillia connected with the smooth line of one of the specimen’s sides, and zo almost felt zov heart stop with fear, expecting pain, or for some terrible mutating disease to sweep over zol, changing zol into an unrecognizable monster--

But nothing happened, except that Teacher Benami told zol to hurry north.

So Finley hurriedly brushed zov cillia forward, towards the now hidden glow of the specimen’s eye, wanting to get the experience over as quickly as possible--

And on the way of zov cillia’s slide south the other side of the point covering the specimen’s now hidden eye, zo felt his heart leap again, but this time not out of fear, but of surprised recognition.

“Felix?!” Zo cried automatically, instinctively shoving forward with zov other cillia to feel the familiar spot again to make sure zo wasn’t wrong. Zo wasn’t. Right there, to the left of Felix’s eye, was her birthmark, the small dent in her otherwise smooth side that had allowed Finley to recognize her for as long as zo could remember.

Finley’s mind was whirling with bewilderment and sudden anger. Why was zov cousin tied north and being called a specimen? Felix wasn’t a wretched Isosceles, she was a respectable Equilateral!

Not thinking about anything except the injustice of it, Finley began tugging violently at one of the chains constricting zov cousin to the wall, thinking to zolself, because zo couldn’t speak when zov mouth was latched onto the bitter metal of the chain, ‘I’ll get you out, Felix!’

The loud clacking of the heavy chain and Finley’s sudden, overwhelming rage made zol immune to the reprimands of zov teacher and the confused laughter of zov class, until zo felt the sudden, sharp jolt of the lance in zov side, before Teacher Benami shoved zol with one of his flat sides, so that Finley went crashing backwards away from zov enchained cousin, reeling from the shock.

Teacher Benami’s enraged voice roared so loudly Finley could feel the ripples of air against zov bruised skin; “What in Nature’s sight has gotten into you, young man?!” His eye was suddenly all that Finley could see, right in front of zov face.

Zo jerked backwards, and shouted back, “That’s not a specimen, that’s my cousin, Felix! Let her out! She’s not a wretched Isosceles! She’s an equilateral just like me!”

The room fell dead silent for a few heartbeats, then Teacher Benami jumped to the alarm button and snapped out, “Guards! Room 17! Get in here!”

Then Finley was being shoved again, this time until zo was squashed back against Felix, the large chains bruising zov side, pressing the two of them together until Finley thought zo would burst from the pressure.

Zo didn’t even know how long this lasted before the pressure was suddenly released, and for a few precious moments, zo could breathe again – then there were spikes of pain in all three of zov sides – the sharp stab of the guards’ lances, pinning zol in place.

Finley was dizzy, terrified, and felt sick. The lunch zo’d just eaten was threatening to come back north, hurting zov eye, which had clamped shut instinctively in self-preservation.

Teacher Benami whispered something to one of the guards that Finley couldn’t understand past the terror suffocating zol.

So zo didn’t see anything as zo was forced out of the room at lancepoint, shoved roughly and lanced any time zo stumbled or faltered, with the guards snarling and swearing each time.

Finley was forced backwards into a cell so small zo could literally feel zov back corners being crushed and bent out of shape. Zo still couldn’t convince zolself to open zov eye, so all zo could do was tremble in pain and fear as the sharp stench of distress pheromones filled the tiny room.

Hours passed where Finley had nothing to do but wallow in zov own misery, trying to understand what had happened. The temperature began to drop, signaling the fall of night. Zo began to shiver, feeling claws of ice wrap around zov insides.

Everything had turned into a disaster so quickly, zo still couldn’t process it or understand why these horrible things had happened.

Felix had been chained up in zov room like a wretched Isosceles, even though she was a respectable Equilateral. Equilaterals weren’t specimens, they were respectable tradesmen. They were supposed to grow up to be artisans.

This was Finley’s first day of school.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

13 notes · View notes