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#anyways. read my fanfic boy
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“If we don’t say anything, and something goes wrong in that house, again…” His gaze drifted down to the red tile floor below him
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koszmarnybudyn · 8 months
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You see the most autistic boy ever and the meanest girl wyd?
Have a Link and Scary drawing i couldnt finish because i didn't have enough time but i think looks cool anyway.
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milf-harrington · 1 year
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inspired by @flashyysins
Two days after Hawkins was almost split open, Robin saw a woman pacing in the hospital waiting room.
There were plenty of other people as well, sitting or standing or walking the length of the room in a similar pattern, but there was something about the woman that Robin noticed. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, which she was- it's that there was something familiar about her.
She was in blue jeans and an old-school Hawkins High Letterman jacket, light brown hair twisted up in a claw clip. Robin had never met her before, she'd remember that at the very least, but still.
Something about the angle of her nose or the gentle waves of her hair felt like something Robin had seen before, something she'd be able to find in a crowded room or across a street.
But Robin had somewhere to be, so she shook off the odd feeling, and followed the familiar path to Steve's room.
---
"Hey Stevie."
Steve's smile was tired, but he was looking more lively than when he'd passed out in the waiting room the other day, so she'd take it.
"Robbie, you left me hanging yesterday."
She snorted and dropped into one of the chairs by his bed, swinging her legs over the arm rest and cradling the bag she'd brought with her in her lap. "You're the one who fell asleep during visiting hours."
He rolled his eyes, and she happily noted the colour returning to his skin. "You should be exempt from visiting hours, you're like...essential to my recovery or something."
She laughed to hide the way those words curled soft and warm around her heart, eyes stinging until she blinked it away. The dumbass had almost over-worked himself to the point of no recovery. "'Exempt?' Someone's been reading a dictionary- did one of your children leave theirs behind?"
"Oh fuck you-"
They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Robin was startled to see the woman from the waiting room hovering behind a nurse.
"You have a new visitor Mr Harrington."
Even knee-deep in confused intrigue, Robin couldn't help but dramatically mouth Mr Harrington over her own shoulder, pleased at the face he pulled in retaliation.
And then the door shut, and Steve looked up to find the woman-from-the-waiting room standing at the end of the bed.
Robin saw his brain grind to a halt at the sight of her.
It was silent (well, as much as it could be in a hospital room, what with all the beeping and whirring) as they took each other in, and Robin slowly brought her knees in closer to her chest like it would shield her from the vague awkwardness chewing at her.
And then-
"Fucking hell, Eve." The woman breathed out, white knuckling the bar at the end of his bed.
At the same time, Steve's face scrunched up as he demanded: "What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean 'what am I doing here'? You're in hospital!"
"I thought you were in New York!"
"Yeah and then I got a call from Hawkins General that my little brother was dying in a hospital bed! Thank you for keeping me as your emergency contact, by the way."
"Well-" Steve spluttered and then crossed his arms over his chest, wincing at the pressure on his injuries. "Obviously."
Several things clicked into place like undone locks. Steve had almost been too comfortable about "feminine" topics for as long as she'd been an active member of his life- and even slightly before.
(He'd once run out of Scoops to buy her pads when she'd started her period in the middle of a shift. At the time she'd figured he was just trying really hard to beat the still a douche-bag allegations.)
Then there were the sweaters that he wouldn't confess to the origin of, the jokes he'd make about Robin "not being the only woman in his life" that she'd thought were about Nancy Wheeler, the vehement denial that the rom-com collection in the theatre room were his.
And, while Robin hated to enforce gender stereotypes, he'd always had the kind of mean girl cattiness that was usually only forged in teenaged girls and merely rubbed off on others.
Of course Steve Harrington had a sister.
Now Robin understood why she'd seemed so familiar in the waiting room.
"What happened to you?"
Simultaneously, Robin and Steve shifted uncomfortably, meeting each others eyes and coming up blank on both ends.
Steve's sister swallowed, jaw clenched and lip quivering as she look back and forth between them. She seemed suddenly fragile, like Steve after a nightmare, or right before he'd collapsed in the waiting room after carrying Eddie inside.
Steve cracked first. "Lou-"
"Don't fucking lie to me, Stephen. This is the third time you've ended up in hospital since your senior year."
Steve blinked, startled. "How did you-"
"I'm your sister." She seethed, and Robin could see flickers of Steve with an axe in his hand in the arch of her shoulders. "You might have told the hospital not to call but I still have friends in this town. If that Hargrove asshole wasn't already dead-"
"Lou-"
"Don't-"
"It was a serial killer." Robin blurted, drawing Steve's sisters' attention to her. "I don't now if you heard about it, but someone was going around killing teenagers. It started with Chrissy Cunningham- she was a cheerleader? kind of cute in a preppy sort of way, but, um- she was killed in our friends living room and then he sort of got blamed for it because, I mean, it was pretty sketchy but he didn't do it! I promise, Eddie didn't- anyway, there was this whole witch hunt, and two more people died which just sort of made it worse for Eddie and a group of us were trying to, like, clear his name, you know? Because we knew he didn't do it and we didn't want him to get killed next, but then one of our other friends - this girl, Max, she's a riot - she was being targeted by the real killer so we came up with this...really stupid plan to catch the killer but everything went sort of tits up and Eddie and Steve both got, well-" She waved her hands at the bandage around Steve's throat and the bruising around his wrists from the vines. "And Max, she broke her elbow and her knee when she fell, and I think Dustin twisted his ankle? So now Max and Eddie and Steve are all in hospital and Dustin has these crutches that he doesn't want to use but, I mean, Steve always makes him because it's Steve, and we don't really know if Eddie's okay yet but no one's come to tell us he's not so we're still hopeful-"
"Robin."
Robin shut her mouth, and took a deep breath through her nose. Steve's sister was staring at her in the startled sort of awe that Robin was used to seeing when she got going. She had the lungs of a trumpet player, it wasn't hard for her to talk until she forgot where she'd started.
"You fought a serial killer?" Steve's sister - Lou? - asked, and Robin hysterically felt like she should offer up her seat.
Steve, bless him, only nodded. Lou stared, lips pressed into a thin line and nostrils flared slightly.
And then, quite abruptly, she was straightening her back and stepping around the bed to hold out a hand to Robin. "Louisa Harrington."
Robin blinked, and shook her hand. "Robin Buckley."
Louisa nodded, like that made sense, and smiled the same cupids-bow smile as her brother. "The best friend- it's good to meet the other half of my brothers brain. Clearly the better half, considering you aren't the one in the hospital bed."
Steve made an offended noise, and Robin grinned.
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clowningaroundmars · 1 month
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morales twins hcs
i'm absolutely in love with the idea of miles42 and miles1610 being twins, i'm so glad most of the fandom has basically adopted 42 lmao
some of my own twins headcanons, just random stuff to add onto other ppls hcs ive seen:
☆ 42 loves his mamí absolutely but def acts the most like his dad, and haaaates when anyone points it out. it's the most obvious when 42 gets mad, he sounds EXACTLY like his father then lol
☆ in fact, the twins polar opposite personalities is probs bc 1610 takes after his mom's temperament more, while 42 is as stoic, stubborn and slightly dorky as his dad is
☆ whenever the boys made each other cry (by accident or otherwise) they did the typical little kid thing and tried immediately comforting the other. now that they're older 1610 handles his emotions better and is mature when talking about them, but 42 is the one who comforts 1610 more often
more below ↓
☆ as well as staying on top of his academics, 42 also plays basketball and trains in a couple martial arts studios after school. 1610 is taller than 42 bc of the spider bite but 42 has always been slightly bigger and more muscular than 1610 since he's the athlete. whenever the family attends 42's boxing matches, jeff gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu from back when he attended his own brother's matches before
☆ they both got thru school p okay, not many incidents of bullying mostly bc if anyone did try, 42 would put a stop to that nonsense immediately. 42 loves his bro with his whole heart and was glad to pick a fight with anyone who gave him any trouble at all. the whole neighborhood knew it too bc the only person allowed to bully 1610 is 42 himself!
☆ in fact, 42 doesn't win the lottery to enter visions in the first place, which saddened both brothers when they found out. so because they're at separate schools now, 42 makes sure his twin knows that if any fuckery is afoot at visions that he'd be more than happy to roll up and dogwalk any fool who tries it. 1610 laughs him off but knows his bro has got his back for sure
☆ 42 likes to pretend 1610 is the nerdy one, but they are both very big anime and manga nerds. every time they hit up any bookstore, they both make a beeline for the manga section and argue over who's gonna read the newest one first (they have to share cuz those books cost some moneeyyyy, man)
☆ 1610 and 42 love their uncle to pieces, OFC. they both pick up separate traits from him, even. 42 was inspired to start martial arts and boxing from watching videos on old digital cameras that aaron hung onto thru the years. they were of a much younger aaron back in his boxing days, when his family went to his matches and recorded them from the seats. 1610 was inspired to pick up graffiti and then even started doodling in notebooks bc of aaron
☆ 1610 is def the social butterfly and easily the most popular kid on the block by virtue of how friendly and outgoing he is. 42 is more introverted and keeps a small circle of friends, but everyone is cool with him nonetheless since they fuck with his twin bro
☆ since 42 stays at home the most (lol he a homebody) he picks up cooking much better than 1610 thanks to him staying in the kitchen to help his mom make dinner while they watch telenovelas together. 42 also knows how to dance bachata and salsa much better than 1610 too
☆ both twins love physics and math but 42 is more hardware-inclined. 1610 is about software, data, and formulas. 42 is good at taking things apart, putting things together, building and engineering. he kinda takes after his uncle aaron that way, and drove his parents nuts as a lil kid when he got his hands on radios, computers, clocks, etc
☆ 1610 loves softer brighter music like JID, steve lacy, smino, frank ocean, kid cudi, post malone, and nujabes. 42 is always bumping harder shit like pop smoke, waka flocka, zillakami, three 6 mafia, benny the butcher and some oldies like paul wall, wu tang clan, biggie smalls, MF DOOM and big KRIT. they tease each other's music tastes a lot since they're polar opposites in almost every way
☆ they actually have a shared playlist where they add new music they like (probs on some e-1610 spotify or soundcloud equivalent since everything is slightly skewed on e-1610 tbh). both of them check it periodically, and 42 is the more frequent contributor
☆ they both make art but 1610 is the artsier kid for sure. 42 doodles occasionally but he's not as enthusiastic about it as his twin is. they both go around the city tagging walls whenever they have any free time, though. 1610 loves colors, expressive styles and is good at coming up with cool ways to draw text. 42's lines, accuracy and technical skill can never be beat
☆ 1610 has superpowers, sure, but his fighting skills are trash! 42 was always the scrappy one, not 1610, so he shows his twin how to properly throw punches and other useful fighting knowledge. it def comes in handy in the future
☆ jeff loves his sons to death but he often finds himself butting heads the most with 42 since they're so similar, it kinda drives them both nuts. it def gets worse once aaron starts gossiping abt what jeff used to be like when they were kids, giving 42 plenty of ammo. they love each other but their relationship is just as complicated as it is between jeff and 1610, and 42 would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the rift between his dad and uncle himself
☆ the minute the twins turn 16, 42 goes out and gets his drivers license on the first try (computer quiz AND road test aced) and rubs it in 1610's face almost constantly. 1610 likes to throw back that there's no parking space for another car on their block, so he can't even get his own car even if he wanted to anyways
☆ whenever the boys really fight, the whole city seems to know. they squabble a lot obvi, they're brothers. but the very few times they've given each other the silent treatment like for real, everyone in the family tries to get them to make up since it's unsettling to see two peas in a pod be so hostile with each other
☆ and since they've always been attached at the hip, 1610 being enrolled into visions felt. weird. everyone thought 1610 was gonna take it the hardest but surprisingly 42 had a harder time adjusting since he always saw his bro in the hallways at school, and was so used to him knowing the latest gossip of anybody in their grade. without 1610 around as often, 42 becomes even more withdrawn than usual
rio looks up from the pot suddenly, glancing at the time. dinner was almost ready and she… hadn't seen not hide nor tail of her son this evening. he returned home from school a couple hours earlier, choosing to skip going to his boxing class to shut himself in his room.
fine. teenagers can be moody sometimes and rio would rather keep her moody son at home where she can keep an eye on him, rather than worry about what he's getting up to on the streets.
strange thing is, though... rio hadn't heard a single noise come out of that room all night. 42 usually liked to have at least some music playing, maybe video game noises out of his nintendo... oh, what was it called again? whatever, that nintendo thing he played on sometimes.
rio placed the lid on the pot and lowered the flame a bit before making her way over to her twin sons' bedroom door, hesitating a bit when she noticed no light was filtering out from the bottom either. okay... that was weird, too. neither of her sons ever went to bed before dinner. ever.
the one time rio dared to try and send her sons to bed without dinner years ago-- as punishment for fighting right there in the kitchen that time-- both twins hollered so loud they got concerned knocks on their front door from various different neighbors. never again, rio remembered thinking that time.
now, the bedroom door stands oddly quiet and completely hollow without any signs of life behind it. rio knocked anyways, hoping against hope itself that 42 didn't go ahead and sneak out of the house without her knowledge. if he did sneak out, he's grounded for 3 months, rio thinks to herself mostly as reassurance. she nervously picks at a nail and strains to hear anything behind the wood.
she thinks she hears a groan and decides to try her luck by slowly opening the door. hopefully he's not in there... y'know, doing teenage boy things, either. dios mío.
rio swings the door open to...
...a completely pitch-black room, save for the sliver of streetlight filtering in past a crack in the window curtains and casting an eerie yellow glow on anything it could touch. it is cold, and also deathly quiet.
rio is shocked.
she walks over to the right side of the room where 42's bed is pushed up against the corner, next to the windows. on that bed lies a big lump, buried under several layers of blankets. the lump stirs.
rio crosses her arms. "mijo, mi amor. are you sleeping? …pero qué te pasa, papí?"¹
42 rolls onto his back and glares sleepily at his concerned mother standing at his bedside. it's dark in the room, but rio's face is illuminated by the living room lights pouring in from the open door. she's wearing a tilted smile, but coupled with the worry lines on her forehead, it isn't fooling anyone.
42 slowly closes his eyes, chin still under the covers, and lets out the most world-weary sigh rio has ever heard coming out of someone as young as him. if it weren't coming from her own son, she might have even laughed.
she immediately sits down, lifting the cover off of 42's chin to check his temperature all over his face. he tries to wriggle away.
"maaaaaa, stop..." he grumbles, trying to pull the covers up higher over his head. "'m not sick, mamí, forreal… chill."
rio leans on a hand. "¿si no 'ta enfermó pues qué es?² what's wrong?"
42 doesn't answer for a bit and rio exhales through her nose. " 'moré, what are you doing in this pitch-black room all by yourself? no light, no music, no nothing. what's wrong? you look like you're on a death bed!"
42 finally opens his eyes again, and blinks a few times as he says, "nothing, ma. seriously, i'm just... tired. that's all. i'm fine."
"you don't look 'fine' 42, you look like 2 seconds away from flatlining."
another sigh from the boy. rio rolls her eyes and places her hand on his forehead again, then strokes his cheek.
"is it 1610? hmm?" rio asks 42. she asks so unbelievably gently, as if by only mentioning his brother's name she would shatter something in the room. a mirror or something.
42's heart clenches at the love and care his mother is showing around this particular topic. it was true, and he couldn't even deny it. having 1610 in the house less and less every week, not seeing him in the hallways at their local high school, receiving sparser and shorter replies to his texts... it was all building up in his chest and the dam was pretty close to bursting. especially now as his mom was lovingly stroking his cheek as she checked in with him. how embarassing. rio wouldn't see him cry, not right now. he closed his eyes and willed the tears away, for her sake.
miraculously, 42's voice didn't crack or waver when he said, "yeah. yeah, i miss 'im."
rio crooned something saccharine in spanish and placed a kiss on her son's forehead. she saw right through his cold tough guy act, as expected. with how much of a mama's boy 42 was, it would've been impossible not to. they spent way too much time together for her to miss how he dragged his feet getting ready for school in the mornings, how he's been skipping martial arts and basketball practice more often lately, and how unenthusiastic he's been in general.
rio chuckles as she lays her cheek on 42's forehead for a second before sitting back up. "ay, bendito. 42, you know your brother is just down a few blocks from here. why don't you go visit him soon?"
42 shuffles under the covers. he's unsure if he should even admit this, but he proceeds anyways. "uhm. he's not answering my texts lately, so." he feels strangely guilty about this, like he just snitched on his twin somehow even though he has no reason to suspect that at all.
rio sighs and looks off into the distance, bracing herself for what she's about to say. she looks back down. "yeah. i know. he doesn't answer mine, either. i was hoping he was talking to you, but... well. "
something in 42 stirs a bit. "i bet he thinks he's in some fancy private school, around rich kids, now he's too good for us," it's a weak attempt at a joke, but rio smiles down at him anyways.
"don't worry. the second he gets home this weekend, he's on house arrest. okay? he's gonna be chained to you the whoooole time. and i'm keepin' watch."
it's not much, but 42 still takes that little bit of hope and holds it gently in his mind.
"the second he walks through that door, i'm tackling him. i don't care." 42 smiles at the thought.
rio laughs, kisses his forehead again and stands up. "dinner is almost ready, by the way." she gives him a look. "you better eat with me tonight, because your brother is at school and your dad is doing overtime tonight. okay? okay."
42 sighs deeply to wake himself up a bit more as he sits up and scratches at his durag. "yeah, yeah. 'm comin', ma!"
¹ "but what is going on with you, papí?" (papí being a common term of affection for a boy in spanish, it doesn't always mean "dad" lol)
² "if you're not sick, then what is it?"
☆ until they get "too old" for halloween, the morales twins ALWAYS wear matching costumes. every year. every single year, no matter what. what they usually end up wearing changes every year and they aaaaaalways argue over it, of course. notable costumes so far: batman and superman (age 13), two ninja turtles (age 9) (im thinking mikey and donatello bc of personality but lbr rio most likely forbade either of them to be leonardo bc the twins would deadass get into a fist fight over it), tom and jerry (age 2), mario and luigi (age 7), woody and buzz (age 5), peter pan and captain hook (age 10), and-- rio's favorite-- thing 1 and thing 2 (age 4)
☆ 42 was surprisingly always very popular with the girls at school. in middle school, 1610 was the geeky one with braces and acne. 42 got off relatively easy in that regard and as a result was labeled "a heartbreaker" from the jump, which annoyed him. he has no interest in dating whatsoever and swore to never get into a relationship before graduating high school. he's got his mom and brother to take care of and he's going places after high school, damnit! 1610 on the other hand is a huge romantic and has a crush on a new person almost every year of school, easily
☆ the literal second 1610 set foot in the house after his spider bite, 42 was all over him asking a million questions since they both have that supernatural twintuition, and 42 sussed him out immediately. 1610 obviously had to come clean and tell his brother he was spiderman just like he told ganke, otherwise he was never gonna be able to change into his spider suit at home (plus they share a room, so. there's that)
1610 didn't even get to close their bedroom door all the way before his twin leaped up from his own bed and stalked over.
"óye, bro. what's up? what happened at visions?" 42 circled his brother, squinty-eyed in the exact same way their mom is when she's suspicious. 1610 dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on his sheets, trying to put some distance between them.
"uhhhh what're you talkin' about?" he tries casually, and immediately regrets it.
"uhhhhh what're you talkin' about?" 42 mocks. "don't play dumb with me. you KNOW what i'm talkin' about, stupid. first, you answer, like, none of my texts ever. then dad comes home sayin' you never let him talk face-to-face when he visited you a couple days ago. mamí has been texting and calling you nonstop, no answer either. you are a brand new person now, huh? qué te pasa, yo?"
1610 hunched his shoulders as he got up and slumped over to his desk. he was quietly weighing his options, nervously rearranging papers and sketches on the wooden table, wondering how he was going to break it to his brother that he was--
"lemme guess. you have superpowers now," 42 says easily. he crosses his arms triumphantly when big round amber eyes suddenly turn up to his face.
1610 searches his face for any hint of a joke. no... no way. did his brother just...?
"you're playin' with me. no way. how did you--?"
42's eyes widen. "wait, are you being deadass right now?" he threw his head back and crowed with laughter. "that was just a guess!"
1610 leaped forward and pushed his hand onto 42's mouth, shutting him up. "heeyyy hey hey hey hey shhhhh, man. damn, could you possibly be any louder? look," he took his twin by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "mom and dad can never know anything about this. okay? anything. not a word, you understand?"
42 pushes his brother off. "ok-ay man, cool it. i promise. we can shake on it, even."
wordlessly, they did their super secret handshake they came up with and perfected in the 4th grade in lieu of hooking their pinkies together. it was the morales shake, a move that binds them to secrecy and keeping promises til death. this was serious business. 1610 relaxes a bit once they're done.
"... okay. and i mean it, pencil braids. if you even breathe a word about this, or even think about--!"
"if you don't just tell me already, goddamn."
with a meaningful look thrown at his brother's way, 1610 raises an arm silently. 42 looks back expectantly.
1610 shoots a web up. he jumps up, using the web as a bungee rope to help him flip and land feet-first onto the ceiling. once his sneakers touch their ceiling, he stands up... upside-down. he stares at his brother and his brother stares back, mouth agape.
"niiiiiiice," 42 leans back and grins up at his twin brother, spiderman.
☆ 1610 is glad he has someone besides ganke to talk to about spiderman stuff, though. his brother listens way more attentively than his roommate anyways, and even tries to help sometimes esp when 1610 needs a quick distraction so he can switch from spiderman back into his regular clothes before the parents notice
☆ 42 is surprisingly cool abt his twin bro being spiderman, actually. even when they're texting 42 is careful not to imply 1610 is spiderman, and often calls stuff in to the police station if 1610 webs anyone up and lets him know. he also gets very good at bandaging up wounds quickly
☆ 42 is a hardass on the outside and contains his emotions much better than his twin, but he's kinda different around his family, since he loves them a lot. he jokes around a lot with them, esp around 1610. they also love pranking their parents, and are p creative at coming up with ways to make everyone laugh
☆ i personally picture 42's personality being sort of like huey's from the boondocks, especially around other adults. he becomes withdrawn and speaks very clearly and directly, and is very shy around strangers. some ppl mistake that as him having an attitude problem but his friends and family know better. only difference between huey and 42 is that 42 isn't nearly as woke lmfao
☆ meanwhile, 1610 becomes a motormouth around strangers and is quick to hug and kiss random family members at family reunions. as a lil kid, he'd always be the one up at the counter ordering for the both of them and chatting with the cashiers, or bus drivers, or whoever. as he gets older and used to the spiderman thing, he chats and jokes with randoms a lil less. he has to save the good material for when the mask is on
☆ 42 is a better writer than he is an artist, actually. he has notebooks filled with poetry and lyrics he scribbles down on post-it notes just to stick them in there for safekeeping. he's also been working on a sci-fi story since he was in 6th grade in absolute secrecy; he doesn't want a single soul to see it. he'd be mortified if anyone saw the nerdy shit he comes up with
☆ even tho 1610 has never fought anyone or been scrappy with anyone else, he's very good at wrestling and dodging punches thanks to his brother.
☆ 42 is the more fashion-inclined twin, even tho they're both sneakerheads. 42 just pays more attention to accessories, the fit of his clothing, how to pair the right shoes with the right jacket. 1610 throws on anything comfortable and calls it a day, and it gets even worse after he becomes spiderman. 42 clowns his brother SO HARD after he finds him wearing yellow sweatpants with an oversized red adidas hoodie and a green puffer jacket once (it was when 1610 came home from fighting a shapeshifting lizard that tried to take over cypress hills. the sweatpants were on backwards)
☆ 1610's sense of humor is geeky and he always tries too hard with his quips and jokes. he usually gets "secondhand embarrassment" chuckles from ppl. 42's style of comedy is a mix of dry humor and unintentionally being funny. this dude will say something clever with the straightest face ever and have the ENTIRE room in stitches without even meaning to
☆ just to nail home how different they are, even tho they share a room, you can tell EXACTLY which half of their room begins and ends. 1610's half is cluttered, vibrant, covered in posters and action figures, collages and trinkets on every available surface. 42's is as clean as a hospital room, and he ALWAYS makes his bed every morning. 42 has a poster or 2 hung up but he's not much for decorating in general. he's more into alphabetizing his bookshelf and looking for more efficient storage to put under his bed
☆ when jeff looks at his sons, he sees aaron and himself and sometimes it scares him. when the boys were around 12 (the Evil Year) he made SURE to sign them up for camp trips that summer and keep them close together as much as possible. he hates to see his boys drift apart at all and is the 1st one to call it out if he sees it. he just doesn't want his boys to end up like he and his brother did…
☆ … and then other times? it genuinely makes him feel a combination of irritation and also fondness bc sometimes 1610 and 42 really really remind him of aaron and himself, esp when they were young. ESPECIALLY when they argue. in every playful slap on the shoulder, every arbitrary competition started out of nowhere, every sleepy brother slowly sliding onto the other's shoulder during nighttime car rides, he sees it. he sees them, and then he sees his past. and with every little difference between the boys slowly cracking open like a chasm with each passing day, sometimes he thinks he can even see his future.
☆ 42 is cool or whatever but i also hc he's kinda… weird sometimes. it gets worse when his twin bro goes off to visions, he keeps staring at walls while sitting in dark rooms and eating at weird hours of the day. rio caught him fast asleep practically hanging off the window sill one night, and another time jeff found him having an entire conversation with a brick wall once while on patrol. 42 refuses to answer any questions
☆ after 1610 gets into visions, becomes spiderman, tells his parents abt his plans to go to princeton, etc... 42 eventually starts feeling a type of way (a jealous way…) their parents also seem to pay attention to 1610 more whenever he's home just to add insult to injury. he knows he's not supposed to, but he often finds himself thinking about the prowler gloves and schematics aaron left behind. he managed to grab them and hide them in a gym bag one day while helping his parents clear out aaron's apartment. the tech currently lives under his bed…
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crispycreambacon · 3 months
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Spice In, Time Out!
— ☆ —
Wanna read a semi-crack fic about Beef Boy hanging out with a bunch of puppets? Maybe even do a little ramen challenge with his little blue fuzzy nerd friend? You're in luck, 'cause I wrote 6500 words of exactly that!
Among those thousands of words are a bunch of cool stuff such as:
Puppet shenanigans! Two of them may have planned to kill their friends (disclaimer: that murder will not be shown in the fic)
Actual history??? Yeah that's right you're gonna get hit with a Puppet History-style question so STUDY UP ON THE HISTORY OF RAMEN (or not) 👹
God being the worst! Again! They may have actually killed someone (disclaimer: that murder WILL be shown in the fic)
God/Professor allegations. Whether those allegations are true or not will be up to you
Overall a (hopefully) funny and wholesome bonding time between everyone at this table. They're all friends! :]
If all of that sounds like a jam to you, you can read the fic via clicking here, clicking the title, or searching up "Spice in, Time Out!" by crispycreambacon on AO3.
I hope y'all will enjoy this fic! I'm pretty proud of how it turned out especially since I was honestly not feeling it at the start and even contemplated not publishing it at all. Even if you don't read it, I hope you enjoy the art (bonus doodles down below btw!) and I hope you'll have a schmaculous day!
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Note
Hey, you remember all those vague asks about someone angrily writing a Sans x Barnaby fanfic?
Yeah, well, I did it.
I'm working on the rest of the fic, gonna have at least 10 chapters with a bunch of lore sprinkled in between, but here, have this snippet for now:
All was peaceful in Home, as it always was. That's what Barnaby loved most about it. Everyone was friendly, playful, always willing to listen to his jokes (even if some of them were bad, and he got a tomato or two thrown at him in response.) He especially enjoyed spending time with Wally and Howdy, always willing to teach Wally a new joke or two, before using those new jokes in Howdy's Bugdega.
This particular afternoon, however, Barnaby was lazily lounging under a shady tree. Howdy was busy with some new stock in the shop, and Wally was playing a new complex game with an excitable Julie and a reluctant Frank. As for the others, Eddie was busy delivering mail, and Poppy was helping Sally with a new playscript. So, here Barnaby was, alone and letting out a loud yawn while coming up with some new comedy acts.
“Hm… maybe an airplane joke? Nah, nah, I've already made plenty of those. Something about bones? That could work, but how would I include the topic into an act…?” He mumbled to himself, putting a paw up to his chin in thought.
Then he felt the ground under him… shift.
Sink.
Slowly sinking deeper beneath him.
“What the..?” Barnaby looked down, confused as to why the grass seemed to be growing higher around him.
The sinking began to grow faster now, panicking the big beagle.
“W-Woah, woah, what's going on?!” Barnaby tried to scramble off the ground, but before he could, the grassy ground fell under him all at once. He yelped as he fell beneath the tree's roots, falling down a tight twisted tunnel. Barnaby reached his arms out, in the hopes of latching onto a stray root to climb his way out, but to no avail. He let out a grunt as his head harshly hit a rock on the way down, and his vision went black.
Barnaby didn’t know how long he was out for. However, he did know that, instead of waking up at the bottom of a dirt tunnel like he expected, he woke up in… a snowy forest?
“Ugh…” Barnaby groaned, wincing as he slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head. With another wounded groan, he looked around in his new environment. The sky seemed to be replaced with a rocky roof, indicating that he was still underground, but… that doesn't explain the evergreen trees or the snow that seemingly fell from nowhere.
“… the hell..?” He mumbled, confused and unsure what to do.
“Hey, buddy.”
Barnaby stiffened at the sudden voice, turning around slowly. There stood a… a skeleton?
“I think you dropped this.” The skeleton spoke in a lazy voice, wearing a blue hooded jacket and a seemingly-permanent toothy smile on his face. In his left hand, he held Barnaby's hat, tilting it out to the beagle. Barnaby must have dropped it when he fell down here.
“Uh… thanks.” Barnaby hesitantly took the hat from the strange skeleton, trying to offer a friendly smile in response, before putting his hat back on.
“No problem,” the skeleton replied simply, putting his hands back in his pockets. “The name's Sans. Sans the Skeleton. What's yours?”
“… Barnaby. Barnaby B Beagle.”
“Nice to meet ya, Beagle. So, what were you doing on the ground? Didn’t look like you were making snow-dogs or anything.”
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mustangs-flames · 20 days
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What Matters
"Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “Well then. I suppose that’s that.”
Anakin’s anger still roiled in the Force, but it was subdued, resigned. He stared down at his hands, “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
It should have been horrifying to know that there was no getting out of this one, that they were going to die slowly suffocating in the vastness of space… and yet it only settled between them quietly. No fanfare, no daring heroics in the line of duty - no going out in some last great hoorah. It had landed suddenly and silently: these were their last hours."
-
It's been 7 years since Anakin Skywalker cut Obi-Wan Kenobi out of his life entirely following the deceit of the Rako Hardeen incident. Due to a series of coincidences, the Clone Wars still rage on and Dooku is now the Sith Master. During a mission gone horribly wrong, Anakin and Obi-Wan are forced to discuss everything that happened and, hopefully, find common ground.
It's just a shame that they're almost certainly going to die by the time they reconnect.
Or: Obi-Wan and Anakin 7 years post-Rako Hardeen. Obi-Wan is sure he can feel the Force laughing at him.
-
A Star Wars: The Clone Wars Canon Divergence AU
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youchangedmedestiel · 22 days
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)
Rating: Mature 
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 
Words: 1,410
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester 
Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester 
Additional Tags: Canon Universe, It doesn't happened in the show, but I guess it could have happened at some point, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Cooks, well he's trying to but cas is distracting him, Dean Winchester Calls Castiel "cute", his tongue slipped, It happens, but it's a good thing here, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Miscommunication, because it wouldn't be them otherwise, Fluff, Castiel Cooks (Supernatural), like he helps dean, Castiel's Head Tilt (Supernatural), it's cute and dean agrees 
Summary:
Dean accidentally thinks out loud and lets out that he thinks Cas is cute. That’s the story of his struggle, but it was worth it because it ends well.
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fanaddicted2000 · 10 months
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Kaz reads to Inej
"Why?" you may ask, to which I shall answer, "Why not?"
Sharing a bed is a milestone they both fought for, and it only worked thanks to a precise organization - separate blankets, long sleeves, Inej with her back to the wall, Kaz with the easiest way out. And yet the struggle continues, some nights harder than others. Tonight they both sit - it's safer than lying down. Talk to me, she asks, and he rambles on for a moment about the latest addition to the Dregs, but he can feel it's not enough tonight, his words aren't enough. Without thinking, he reaches for a book on his nightstand - some forgotten poetry lying around the club that he had intended to throw away. Maybe if he can gently jolt her out of their usual script... He picks a random page and reads Good Morning, Midnight / I'm coming Home / Day got tired of Me / How could I, of Him? His voice feels strange, unused to the way words demand to dance on his tongue, but her breathing slows and her hand slides closer to his. He reads each stanza, growing more confident with each line.You are not so fair, Midnight / I chose Day / But please take a little Girl / He turned away! With a sigh, she lays her head on his shoulder and murmurs Again, please?. So he does - how could he not? He starts from the beginning and the rasp of his voice coupled with the softness of the words slowly lulls her to sleep.
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rotisseries · 8 months
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I'm so unbelievably susceptible to the famous secret relationship trope it's unreal actually
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flufallo · 1 day
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DID NEIL GAYMEN WRITE DBD
He wrote the comics yes
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jouyato · 2 years
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ratatouille pig
also bonus kuuno doodle while im here lol
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soliska · 1 year
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If We Fall Anyway - Chapter 34
She weaved around the vendors, squinting a little in the bright sunlight to find a stall that might have bundles of dried plants and the like. Though he was somewhere behind her, Kagome wasn't at all worried she'd lose Inuyasha, what with his superior senses and everything.
What drew her attention however, was the loud taunt from a man not far down from where she stood.
"What in the world is manning this booth?" The raspy voice continued apparently on a tirade. "Seriously, do you even know how to talk?"
CONTINUE
__________________________________
Summary:
What if the Shikon jewel didn’t exist and Naraku never came to be? What if Kagome fell down the well anyway and met a gruff, young inu-hanyou. Would they still become friends? What would be their story?
A tale told in snippets.
Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 |
Tags! @alerialblu @hopidoodle @redflamesofpassion @lavendertwilight89 @zelink-inukag @superpixie42 @four-letter-girl @anisaanisa @amethystablaze @lordofthechips @kawaiichan67@born-for-eachother @dawnrider @holi-holy @liz8080 @ruddcatha @lavendertwilight89 @mylindylady @inusmasha @lostinfantasyworlds @heynikkiyousofine
Message if you want on/off the tag wall :)
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writereleaserepeat · 1 year
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So, I finally dove back into some great writing by @peachy-panic after some chapter updates to their stories Do No Harm and Fifty-Eight Days. I really adore the setting and characters in Fifty-Eight days, and anonamously received the blessing to write some fanfiction, so I did! Spoilers for Fifty-Eight Days below the cut - please go read their work if you haven't already!
There's a nameless woman mentioned in the flashback that starts "Reconvergence," and I thought it would be interesting to see the rescue scene from a different point of view (and perhaps from the point of view of someone who is mostly lucid at the time). It's obviously a fan work, so there are some canon divergences and creative liberties just to make it flow, but I really love the characters and hope I did them a bit of justice.
Spoilers for Fifty-Eight Days by peachy-panic
TW: implied non-con, aftermath of non-con, nudity mention, strong language, kidnapping, blood mention, gore mention, violence mention
---
“You should be prepared for anything,” the Lieutenant Colonel had said. As any dutiful officer would, Eleanor Martin took those words to heart, and prepared as well as one could. Naievely, she thought she had prepared for anything. But that pre-mission briefing felt like a lifetime ago now that she was staring at the gore-soaked aftermath of the compound raid. 
Voss’s men had put up a fight, just as they had expected. The winding halls were lined with bodies of the nameless henchmen, grey brain matter collecting in puddles alongside skull fragments, crimson splattered up against the walls. Ivory paint was pock-marked with countless bullet holes, and the smell of gunpowder lingered alongside the pungent odor of copper. Death permeated every pore of her body. 
It hadn’t been hard to find Voss’s room, an elegant suite tucked away at the heart of the sprawling compound. He had thought himself a king, and the bedroom had clearly been built to reflect this sentiment. 
The only crown Voss wore now was a ring of liquid red. His eyes were already glossed over with the pallor of death, and he was gazing up at the ceiling with a permanent grimace etched in his leathery skin. For a man who had been hunted by authorities for years, a man turned into a monstrous specter that rivaled the devil himself, he seemed so small as he slumped lifeless against the bedroom wall with a bullet hole between his brows. 
But it wasn’t Voss that had seared an image in Eleanor’s mind when she entered the room. It was the two young men, the very ones they had also hoped to find in this place, caught amidst the gunfire and the chaos. Naked, soaked in blood, the whites of their eyes showing like frightened dogs. They hardly resembled the two photos that authorities had received six long weeks ago, but it was unmistakably the two missing missionaries. And amidst the flurry of uniformed men entering the room, it was clear that no one knew what to do with the surviving victims. Perhaps this was because they were never expected to be found alive. 
“Gordon, call the medics in,” Eleanor barked at her colleague. He nodded, shoving his pistol back in its holster before running out of the room. Eleanor tried to ignore the fact the other soldier looked as though he were about to be sick.
Movement caught her eye, and Eleanor turned her attention back to the victims. The boy she recognized as Grayson Dawning scrambled off the bed, his face stained with tears and blood, an expression of hopeless despair frozen in place. Alive. He was alive, unmistakably, honest-to-god alive. 
While finding both victims alive was better than any of the authorities involved had expected, Eleanor could already tell that survival was not a kindness to either of these young men. The near-catatonic one—Elijah—was still facedown on the bed and gagged. Even among the armed men reorganizing themselves to sweep the rest of the compound, his cloth-stifled soft sobs still filled the room with heart-wrenching pain. 
“You- you gotta help him,” Grayson mumbled as he staggered to his feet beside the bed, hands pulling at the cloth gag that was stuffed in Elijah’s mouth. Grayson didn’t seem to care that he was still exposed, burdened by the stench of sweat and sex across every inch of his skin. Eleanor’s stomach turned. 
Be prepared for anything.
“Easy, Mr. Dawning,” she murmured, unsure of what else to say. After all, what could she say? It didn’t take an expert or a medic to understand what they had stormed in on. 
Blood streaked down Elijah’s legs, across his face, all over the sheets of the bed. From the mass of wounds on his back and his thighs, it was hard to tell which injuries were fresh and which were just gnarled scars. But rather than attempt to stymie the bleeding, she took to pulling Grayson away, trying to get a handle on the situation until the medics arrived. 
“I’ll get that,” she promised as she nudged Grayson’s trembling hands away from Elijah’s head. The young man didn’t offer her any resistance as she carefully undid the knot buried within the unruly curls. She couldn’t help but wince as her own fingers shook, but soon the knot loosened, and the crude gag finally came undone. With as much caution as she could muster she eased it out of his mouth. 
“Elijah, please,” Grayson cried softly, his hands touching Elijah’s shoulder, trying to break through the fog that had overcome the younger of the pair. But as Eleanor could clearly see, Elijah’s eyes were unfocused, welling with tears, vacant but for the slightest spark of life. She wondered if he could even hear his companion at all. 
“Well, shit,” Adam muttered as he looked at the two boys on the bed, the medic suddenly having appeared at Eleanor’s side. He dropped the medical bag to the floor and began his usual procedures, pulling the zippers open to reveal his instruments and supplies. There was no mistaking the urgency with which the man had gotten down to business.
“Adam, this is Grayson and Elijah,” she said, gesturing to them each in turn. She wasn’t trained to interact with patients like Adam was, but the least she could do was give them a name to attach to a face. Maybe she hoped it would give them some comfort, ground them amidst the chaos that had just rained down. It just seemed like the right thing to do. 
She wasn’t even sure there was a right thing to do in a situation like this. 
“Hey, Elijah,” Adam said as he settled down by the bedside. “My name’s Adam, and I’m here to help you out.” Elijah didn’t respond, eyes still staring off into empty space, tears leaking freely in streams through the blood and grime. 
“Please, you have to help him,” Grayson said, pleading. “Please, Elijah, I’m so sorry. I’m- it’s going to be okay. I'm sorry.” It was impossible to miss how Grayson’s hand wrapped around Elijah’s, squeezing tight. Whatever they had gone through, they were the only ones that could understand each other now. 
“I’m checking your vitals now,” Adam continued, narrating his actions to Elijah softly beneath Grayson’s panicked chatter. “We’re going to start with your blood pressure and your heart. Eleanor, can you finish untying him?” 
Shit. Eleanor hadn’t even thought to undo the restraints binding the boy’s wrists. She made quick work of those so Adam could slide the blood pressure cuff around Elijah’s recently-released arm. Moments later the rest of the medical team arrived, two gurneys and more medical supplies in tow. 
“Yeah, we’ve got to load them up and get them out of here as soon as we can,” Adam said as he stood up to look at Eleanor, face taut with a newfound urgency. Whatever numbers the paramedic had pulled from his devices, they hadn't been good. “Our team will take Elijah here, and Joe’s team can take Grayson. We’ll take them both to the predetermined hospital, but it’s up to your folks to get the American authorities down there.” 
“Fuck, right, I’ll let the Lieutenant Colonel know,” Eleanor answered, reaching for her walkie-talkie on her belt. The fact that these boys were alive was going to spare something of an international incident. She was supposed to let the Lieutenant Colonel know as soon as there was any definitive contact with the boys, dead or alive. Somehow, that had slipped her mind upon seeing their condition, that scene she had walked in on. If word of what truly happened got to the press, she wasn’t sure it would be much better than if they had been found dead. 
After she made the call to her boss—yes, they were alive, and they were about to get brought out to the awaiting ambulances—she helped pull Grayson away from Elijah. This gave the other paramedics enough time to get to work on Grayson, running a rapid assessment of his vitals and responsiveness. As soon as he had lost contact with Elijah’s skin, Grayson seemed to disappear in much the same dissociative state. 
This older one of the pair, supposedly a group leader that had pursued Elijah after he went missing, was barely more lucid than his catatonic companion. And as Elijah was rolled out of the room on a stretcher, bodies cleared out of the way as they went, Grayson seemed lost in a fog. Eleanor kept her grip on his upper arm as he looked around like a lost child. 
“Where is he?” Grayson asked, panic renewed as he came back to himself, if only just. “Where did you take him?” He pulled himself from Eleanor’s grasp and stumbled towards the hallway, past the broken door, feet passing over the puddles of blood without hesitation. 
“Where is Elijah?” He called out into the nothingness as Eleanor and the other paramedics followed after him, prepared to intercept and bring him to a gurney of his own. 
“Mr. Dawning,” a shorter paramedic pleaded, “You need to sit down and let the medics look at you. We need to get you to the hospital.” 
It was obvious by the full-body tremors that Grayson wasn’t particularly amiable to that suggestion. Eleanor, not versed in the art of comforting, and without a maternal instinct in her body, again attempted to soothe. 
“It’s over now,” she said as she prepared to guide Grayson out of the winding compound. “It’s over, you’re safe.” He seemed to flinch when she reached for his shoulder again, so she drew her hand back. It would have to be enough to walk by his side. So she did, walking close by his shoulders, the paramedics rolling the gurney and their supplies a few paces behind. But she may as well have not even been there as they navigated the winding halls, Grayson still calling out Elijah’s name, eyes darting to every face they passed. 
Once they were outside in the driveway, washed in the bright white of industrial grade lights and the flashing of emergency vehicles preparing to depart, Grayson seemed to snap back into focus. Of course; it seemed that Elijah was about to be loaded into one of the waiting ambulances, his body atop a stretcher and draped in blankets. 
“Elijah!” Grayson cried out, voice cutting above the fray of uniformed officials trying to make some sense of the carnage that was unraveling inside the compound. From the chatter on Eleanor’s radio, it seemed that these wayward missionaries were not the only victims to be found in the recesses of Voss’s personal playground. More ambulances - and coroners - would likely be on their way in a matter of minutes. 
Grayson nearly tumbled to the ground as his foot caught on the edge of the gurney, but somehow the emaciated boy caught himself and continued to propel forwards towards Elijah. That spark of desperation pulled again at Eleanor’s heartstrings. She watched the paramedics try to ward Grayson off, refuse his entry into the ambulance, their faces stern. Even Adam seemed prepared to put his foot down and protect the patient in his stead.
For a moment, Eleanor was lost. She likely would never see these boys again, not in person. Perhaps on the news or in her nightmares. But even if she would never see them again, she would remember these moments for the rest of her life. Perhaps they would too. What kindness could she afford them now? 
“Let him,” she said, walking a few paces towards the waiting ambulance. “Let them go together.” 
One of the paramedics looked like he was prepared to argue, but Eleanor knew that her rank was visible on her chest patch. A short tilt of her chin and squint of her eyes was all it took to make them fold. 
As soon as wordless permission was granted, Grayson grabbed onto Elijah’s hand, both of their knuckles white. Fear still danced around them, but in the last few moments that Eleanor saw them before the doors closed, she knew she had made the right decision. Whatever awaited those boys in the future, and whenever they had to reckon with what she had glimpsed upon breaching that door, that would be saved for another day. For now, for these few short minutes before they were subjected to a thousand questions and countless doctors prodding at them, they would have each other. Maybe that would be enough.
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finch-the-foolish · 1 year
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Ok so uh @rose-lizzzy apologies for taking so long on this (I got distracted by an absurd amount of fae Jim brainrot) but uh. Here it is! My scrunkly little AU about my silly little eldritch bois having a certified Bad Time. Gem is one of the main characters, being a Celestial (which I'll talk about in a separate post), alongside all my other creatures cause it's fun to mess with my little guys. Anyway they're all eldritch horrors and doing a shit job of hiding it.
So here ya go! Enjoy ig! If ya like it I'll continue messing with everyone!
The Horrors and The Heavens
TW/CW for anxiety, paranoia, a mental breakdown/panic attack, themes of death and fear surrounding it, themes of lying, despair, fears surrounding others hatred
Gem had long been hiding the truth.
It wasn't like she was the only one doing it—many of her friends had secrets, some more terrible than others, though everyone had something to hide. It was impossible not to, what with how varied and rag-tag their server was.
Regardless, Gem was living a lie. One weaved in careful half-truths and false memories, a well-crafted backstory built on a foundation of nothing. She had been parading these lies for years, burying any remnants of her past, any portions of her life she knew she couldn't share.
Gem knew how the other hermits, the other emperors, how anyone and everyone would react upon her discovery. She had seen it; flitted through countless terrible otherworlds, containing a harsh future she refused to make real. Even as much as it was her nature.
Gemini Tay, a being of the stars, wanderer of the cosmos, wholly capable of burning out in a beautiful flame and taking her systems with her. She was a Celestial, a creature of light and ruin, something she would hide away till the end of her days. Whatever it took to keep herself safe—to keep her friends safe.
She had taken precautions to ensure nobody knew her past, to ensure nobody discovered her second existence on either server; she couldn't bear to stay in one place, that innate need for orbit and movement drawing her away to a second realm, sometimes more when the draw of wanderlust grew too strong.
These precautions had held for over a year, her twin lives moving peacefully through their own realms. Sure, there had been… incidents—the presence of False had posed a threat at first, though she didn't seem to recognise Gem as anything but the Princess of Dawn, same with the old Saint Pearl before her untimely death. Beyond that, though? She'd kept her mask well; better than some, certainly.
It wasn't until she heard of the Rift that she got concerned. Only slightly, at first—she recalled slipping into the cavern one day while Grian was off doing something, recalled staring up at that swirling wall of fabric and code and being struck with the terrible knowledge of its being. A portal, a rip in the universe, releasing energy of the inner code like some slashed, festering wound.
The Rift worried her, though she didn't attempt passing through; there was always the chance of slipping into some other realm with some other her, causing some world-crashing paradox. That had happened once, years ago, back when her powers were new and her mind foolish and far less stable. She refused to let it happen again.
Gem found herself more on edge, keeping a careful hand on her grasp of the Empires' code, desperately praying there would be no tear, that she could live on in her own little lie forever. Her god was not so kind, though, and it wasn't long before a second Rift tore through. She was on Hermitcraft when it happened, but even then she could feel it, feel the terrible ripping of reality's cloth, reverberating through her own code, her own soul, that ever-present link to the stars dragging the feeling through her.
The lie to conceal that was rough, barely coherent in that rush of feeling, but she couldn't bother to care then. She cared now, though. She cared as the Hermits ventured through the Rift, as she found herself trapped in one world with the people she'd tried so hard to hide from. It wasn't that she didn't love her friends—no, it was this love which drove her hidden existences; she couldn't risk their discovery or their harm. And yet here she was, her double life on the edge of discovery.
She went along with the other Emperors' confusion, trying desperately to ignore the near-hurt looks of Impulse and Pearl as she acted as though she hardly knew them. She acted and fibbed and lied, lied, over and over and over again. They couldn't know. They couldn't.
It didn't help how the Hermits pushed, questioning and pestering like some horrid, eternal interrogation, just waiting for her to slip up. Some part of Gem wondered if they already knew, if they were just waiting to reveal her for what she truly was. Perhaps they wanted her to confess—perhaps it would be easier if she did.
What would she do if they found out? Would they ban her? Kill her? She was dangerous—a known murderer in one realm already, a powerful princess in another, and a being capable of destroying them all in both. She wouldn't put it past them to simply end her existence, snuffed out like a star dragged into the dark of a black hole.
The thought scared Gem, scared her more than any she'd had in a long time. And so she became avoidant, lying on a habit, covering up every bit of her other life that she could, even as the glaring marker of truth which was the Hermits remained.
These lies came to a head one day, within some building of Dawn. She'd been working away at this build, distracting herself in the joy of creation, a side of her coin she much preferred to land upon.
It was just before noon when Impulse and Pearl arrived, wandering into the latest addition to Dawn.
"Gem? Gemmmm? Gemmy? Gemmy Gem? You there?" Pearl's voice rang through the small building, drawing Gem's attention from the wall she'd been decorating.
"Pearl?" Gem replied, turning away from her wall as the pair rounded one of the doorways. "Oh. Hi. Do you… need something?"
Impulse shrugged, taking up a spot against one of the other walls. "Eh. Just.. wanted to stop by, see how you're doing."
"Oh, alright. Uhm, I'm just kinda building right now- tryna decide which wall design I should go with." She gestured to the indented wall behind her, letting the pair focus on that. It was easier when they weren't staring at her.
"Ooh, I like the one on the right. Kinda reminds me of one of the other patterns in the castle—y'know, that one?" Pearl looked back at her, awaiting an answer Gem knew she couldn't give.
Some part of Gem wanted to tell them; she'd been holding in all these hidden truths for so long, all these lies she'd had to weave to survive. Some part of her wanted nothing more than to ramble out everything she'd been hiding.
But still. She couldn't. She never could—it would risk everything she had worked for. And so she awkwardly shrugged, mumbling a small "No?"
Her friends shared a look, and, watching them, Gem nearly gave into the urge to agree, tell them yes she knew, yes she understood, yes they had been friends, they were still friends.
"Gem, are you sure you don't remember anything? I.. I know we're pesterin' you a lot, but- our Gem hasn't shown up since we passed through the Rift, and- well, you're her- sorta- I-" Pearl shook her head. "Void, none of this is coming out right. I.. we just wanna know. Are you.. you? Or some other you? Are you the Gem we know?"
Gem tensed, drawing in a breath. They weren't going to leave her alone, were they? They didn't understand what she had to do, why she had to lie to live the way she did, to even live at all.
As her thoughts slipped, she faintly heard an instinctive no, hesitant as it was, fall from her lips. She shook her head, focusing again on her friends—no, they weren't her friends, they were the Hermit Gem's friends, different friends from a different world which should never have met her at all.
"Are you certain? You.. you hesitated. You can tell us, y'know, even if you aren't completely our Gem."
"No, I can't," Gem muttered, just a tad too loud. She tensed, eyes widening at the indiscretion. That.. that was foolish.
She could already tell that this was a fatal error, could already feel the horrible aftermath pounding through her skull, countless realities shrieking of betrayal and fear and death. Death. Gods, that scared her. Faintly, beyond the swirling multitudes of her mind, Gem could hear her own panicked breaths, worried voices and hands on her arm and-
"I.. I'm sorry- I- I lied, I lied about everything- oh stars I'm such a fool- I- I'm gonna die I don't want to die oh stars- I had to do it I had to I don't want to implode I can't hurt anyone again- oh jeez- pl- please don't hurt me- I didn't wanna hurt everyone I didn't want to fake it all but I had to- I-"
A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders, firm, accompanied by two blue eyes staring into her own. Gem drew in a shaky breath, staring into the endless night those eyes seemed to contain.
"Gem. We aren't going to hurt you—we just wanna know what's goin' on. I.. we're worried about you, Gemmy, and ya can't just bottle everythin up. So please. What's wrong?"
Gem sighed, gathering the few shreds of nerve she could manage within her mind. "I.. I'm- I've been hiding my.. second life here. And my past. And… and everything else. I.. I lied about so much-" A sharp sob bubbled up in her chest, releasing itself in a nearly painful whimper. "Everyone's gonna hate me.. oh stars, what am I gonna do-"
"They're- they're not gonna hate you, Gem. We'll make sure nothing bad happens. Right Impulse?"
Impulse, who'd at some point crouched down next to her, nodded, before pulling Gem into a hug, which Pearl joined only a moment later.
"Th.. thanks guys.. promise you won't tell anyone, though. I… I've seen how people react to everything and…" she trailed off, shuddering at the images which flitted through her mind—anger and fear, destruction and death, all the things she'd worked so hard to avoid.
Pearl nodded. "I.. I get it. I've had a rough go of it too, if I'm being honest. We'll keep you safe though."
"Yea, we'll make sure nobody can lay a hand on our Gem, no matter what. We love ya, and aren't gonna let someone hurt one of our own." Impulse paused a moment, before adding, "Besides, if you're gone, who're we gonna play soup roulette with?"
Gem let out a soft laugh at the question, head shaking with an imaginary disdain. "Oh, Impulse."
She was safe for now, hidden behind the love of friends who barely understood what she'd done. Some part of her knew they'd hate the full her, knew the disgust and fear she'd earn upon admitting her crimes. She'd already said too much, even without the knowledge of what she was. It had been a mistake.
Silently, between the laughter of friends she knew would turn away, she told herself she would say no more, vowed silent to bury the truth as deep as she could and never touch it again. It…it was for the best. It was for their safety. Right?
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Not me over here writing a story about Peet that is going to end up being split into two smaller stories because it just got so long and spiraled so far out of my control-
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