#miss crawly is everything! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smicksstuff · 1 year

Text

welcome to the land down under. home to the poisonous snakes and many creepy crawlies. piping hot tea has been spilt, its brown liquid staining everything it touches. can yn wash the stain away or has become part of who she is ?

The Pitbox Crew Series

read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 here

Upside Down, Inside Out

(f1drivers x yngasly)

⚠️ warnings: alcohol consumption, fighting, swearing, cyber bullying.

a/n: this is a work of fiction. i do not encourage this behaviour. also i apologise for the google translate french and spanish. please ignore the typos, i will edit them soon.

meanwhile on twitter .....

ynusername

Melbourne

liked by pierregasly, paulgasly, isahernaez and 739, 728 others.

ynusername im speechless. i have no idea what race i have just watched 😭😭😭

view 780 comments

scuderiapedrogaseoso i hope pierre is okay !!

yngaslyfans that race was a nightmare but you are still slaying in the paddock

gaslyfc can’t believe i woke up for this race !! all my guys are out 😫😭

formula1girls can we take a moment to appreciate the content provided by yn. girl gave us so many bts to cure our broken heats 💔🥺

formulauno her and danny ric !! we need more of them !!!

spicychilli i mean can we appreciate her and carlos too!!

piastrigirls miss gurl giving love to all the boys!! she and oscar is an unexpected duo. 🧡

oscarpiastri matey you need to learn how to send the photos 😐

yngasly i’ll send it now ! i promise 🤞🏼

oscarpiastri ill believe when i get it 😑

mickschumacher you post all this but not you surfing 🤔

yngasly you promised not to talk about it 🥺

mickschumacher just you wait till your birthday 😁

yngasly thats a threat !!! @pierregasly micky is threatening me with the surf pics 😠

pierregasly @mickschumacher i have more embarrassing ones, i will bring them to the next race for you 😝

yngasly HEY!!!! STOPPP

mickschumacher thats awesome! cant wait!!

pierregasly what are big bros for ❤️

f1fans i like how she is ignoring the obvious! why haven’t you acknowledged the tweets yet!!!!

username7 girl you already did all the shit why are you scared to admit it ?

yngaslyfc omg i made it! You made my year! can't believe I got to meet you.

liked by yngasly and 67 others

f1tea

liked by f1fans, username8, f1fanatics and 6,789 others

f1tea Pierre arrived in the paddock at 8.30am this morning. Melbourne walk was booming with fans having 1 last chance to get their merch signed by their favourite racers.

In non-driver news, the Gasly Princess - Yn Gasly arrived to the paddock at 9.00am alongside Joris Trouche and Charles Leclerc. As they walked through the Melbourne Walk, loud jeering and boos could be heard from the fans. Many were telling her to stay away from Formula 1 and its drivers.

Upon hearing the jeering and boos, Charles Leclerc alongside other drivers Alex Albon, George Russell and Lando Norris who were present at Melbourne Walk proceeded to try and defend their friend yn however their efforts were not enough.

Joris Trouche then took Yn tight in his grip and entered the paddock quick. Sources from inside the paddock say that Yn was in tears and Joris proceeded to walk with her to the Alpine Motorhome. Throughout the Race Day, Yn was not seen as much in the paddock.

What are your thoughts ? Does Yn deserve the backing of the drivers? Let me know in the comments

view 789 comments

f1fans She had this coming.

username8 hate to break it to you but after what she did, how could they not boo her.

username7 she is a bad influence in the paddock. she should be removed.

lordperceval Yall HAVE TO STOP !! this is cyber bullying.

chillichicas i agree! she doesn’t deserve this. yall dont have to like her but at least acknowledge she is human too

spicylovers she isnt your human punching bag

quadrantmania for petes sake. she is just a kid trying to support her big brother at races and yall are coming at her like she committed a huge crime.

landounited lando should ditch her! he doesnt need friends like her

landino and who are you to decide who lando can be friends with

pedromyman what she did was to herself. It does not affect anyone of yall. You dont like it, dont follow her. I for one do not want her to disappear from the paddock again.

vroomvroom why are the drivers even trying to defend her. im sure their teams will not support it.

estiebestie she should just leave. she is not that important anyways.

yngasly

liked by isahernaez, pierregasly, landonorris and 567, 903 others

yngasly i thought i would come here and address the information circulating online about me.

view 893 comments

pierregasly ❤️❤️❤️

charles_leclerc Ma petite sœur toujours ❤️ (translation: My little sister always)

lancestroll always gonna be here for you 💚

isahernaez ¡Mi mejor amigo! Estoy muy orgulloso de lo lejos que has llegado. ¡Siempre estaré aquí para ti! Te quiero. ❤️ (translation: My best friend! I am very proud of how far you have come. I will always be here for you! I love you.)

chloestroll love you baby ❤️

landonorris you can try to get rid of me but you will fail 🙃🧡

yngaslyfans i may not know you personally but im always gonna stand up for you. we all make mistakes in life. its what we do after that- the learning from it that matters the most.

paulgasly ❤️

arthur_leclerc Si heureux que tu sois de retour ! Tu m'as toujours eu ! ❤️ (translation: So happy that you're back! You will always have me!)

carlossainz55 Estoy muy feliz de llamarte mi familia ❤️ (translation: I'm very happy to call you my family)

estebanocon so proud of you 😃

alpinef1team we are proud of you Yn ! you will always have our love and support 💙💙💙

scuderiaferrari one of the strong ones ❤️

lewishamilton so proud of you kid! like i told you in the paddock “dont let the noise discourage you. they dont know who you really are!” ❤️

fernandoalo_official my kid 💚

pierregasly

liked by yngasly, charles_leclerc, f1, alpinef1team and 1,465,010 others

pierregasly Yn Julianna Gasly. My relationship with my baby sister is one of the most important in my life.

From all the pizza parties to celebrate karting wins and her football school team wins, to fighting over the PS3 controllers, to not talking to each other for months, we have gone through it all.

Yn has always been on my side through the thick and thin. At every race she be at the garage or along the fence cheering me on! (charles and anthoine too but thats beside the point) Good day or Bad Day she always made sure she was there for me. She even ditched playdates to travel with Maman to watch me race.

Anthoine’s Passing affected all of us differently. We handled our grieve separately. My biggest regret was pushing Yn away forgetting that she too was grieving the lost of her bestfriend. When I look back, i feel that the road she went down was partly my fault. But with an immense amount of help for her and the family, we got through it together. I hated that my sister was barely with us for those 4 months. But at that time i thought that was best. Looking back, I should have done more. But mistakes were made. Like I told Yn, “Mistakes are OKAY only if they happen once and you learn, and dont repeat it again.”

My sister made a mistake. It is something she cannot ignore. It happened. But she learned from it. We learned from it. Her past does not define who she is now. My Sister is my number 1 Supporter. She is my Person, My Best Friend, My Twin. What has been said online the past few weeks about her the jeering when she is out in public is simply unacceptable. It has to stop. Losing someone you love can make you do incredibly stupid things. But I know my sister, those 4 months was not her.

So please I am hoping that you can understand. The mistakes my sister made in the past is not who she was or is now. Please stop circulating the pictures and videos.

comments have been disabled

taglist: @fangirlika @threedalla @sticksdoesart @ophcelia @gothicwidowsworld @nmw-am @h0e-xoxo @inthestars-underthesun @tyna-19 @champomiel @pitconfirmbutton @clcspeonies @67-angelofthelordme-67 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fulla02 @mehrmonga

credits: all pictures are found from pinterest and instagram

a/n: thank you for reading this far !! If you have any suggestions send them to me!! I would love to hear them ◡̈

if you would like to be tagged when new parts are released, drop your usernames in the comments!! 😁

497 notes · View notes

asgardian--angels · 2 months

Text

Talking on the phone with my mom I finally broke down and cried thoroughly about the cancellation. I think I'd been holding it in for the last two days, or two months. And honestly I've been wondering all along why this show means so much to me. I am not queer, I am not neurodivergent, I am not POC or disabled or any of the groups that this show has been so important for in terms of representation and being treated with respect and dignity. I understand and completely empathize with all of you, and fight for this show and your rights worldwide alongside you, but it still left me wondering why I myself have latched onto Our Flag Means Death. I suppose part of it is that despite being white and cishet and the privileges that have always come with that, I have been treated like an outsider and ostracized my entire childhood and teenage years, for being ugly and having "disgusting" interests (primarily liking insects, reptiles, other creepy-crawlies - aka the thing I literally do for my career now). I was bullied relentlessly from preschool through early college and became a very lonely introverted person - I still am. Undoubtedly Our Flag Means Death gave me renewed hope that I haven't missed some key window for finding love or relationships of any kind that matter, as I sit here typing this at age 28 having never dated anyone.

But it had to be more than that. And with everything that's happened the past couple of months, and the last few days, I think it finally clicked for me.

Followers of my blog may or may not know that I am a conservation biologist, or pollinator ecologist, whichever hat fits best on a given day, they're quite close. I don't make many original posts like this anymore on here because my job is so busy. Basically, I do a variety of things - academic research, habitat management & restoration, and public outreach - to try and preserve biodiversity and ecosystems on our planet. I'm just going to say it: it's a thankless job. Nothing we do ever feels like it's enough, and burnout is common in our field because we sit with the guilt of feeling like we are the only thing between survival and utter destruction of planet Earth, and work ourselves to exhaustion. It's one of those jobs where your work is your life, and your passion is your work, and it's inseparable from who you are on a molecular level. We are often faced, on a large scale, with hostility, from people that don't believe in science and are more than happy to pull a shotgun on us, or rich old men in power who are content to watch the world burn for another penny in their bank account. There are days when sometimes it sinks in just how bad things are, and it's terrifying, and I feel like we will never be able to do enough, to change enough, before it gets catastrophic. It's paralyzing.

My ability to do my job is dependent on hope. Unwavering, unrelenting hope. Hope beyond hope. We have to believe what we're doing matters, otherwise we'd fall down and never get back up again. I'm no big-shot, I give talks to a few hundred people at a time, and make urban pollinator habitat on a local scale. Is any of that going to make a difference compared to the ramifications of a single oil mogul deciding to cut corners and cause an oil spill that kills millions of seabirds and damages ocean food chains for decades to come? If people in my field let thoughts like that linger, we'd be paralyzed to inaction. I have to hope that the people I teach choose to do something good with that knowledge, and go on to inspire others, or that the patch of habitat I make allows a declining species to maintain a foothold instead of going locally extinct. You just have to keep going.

And Our Flag Means Death got wrapped up in that for me. The Stede Bonnet effect, if you will. He set out to do pirating differently, treating his crew with respect and helping them grow. In return, they internalized that mindset, and it spread to how they interacted with others. It changed the trajectory of individual lives, and also at least began to change how the society of pirates operated as a whole. It was a beacon of hope that choosing small acts of kindness did matter, even if you yourself could not see the ripples it made. It renewed my faith that love persevered and would win. That we could all make life a little better for each other and ourselves through kindness, compassion, forgiveness, and mutual support. I think a good chunk of that is from Taika - these are running themes in his projects, and his films move me deeply for that. This show became in some, perhaps subconscious way, a source of strength for me to keep putting myself out there in my line of work to do whatever I was capable of to help the cause.

The cancellation was devastating, but the second cancellation (turbohell cancelation?) was even more so. Because now it's so clear that this is largely the work of David Zaslav and the regime he's built. It's petty, it's greedy, and more than anything, it's cruel. Indifferently, indiscriminately cruel, when one person at the top can have such power to make or break the lives of thousands, millions, beneath them, and though it would have been barely a drop in the bucket, a hand wave, to renew our show or let it pass to another streamer, he actively chose to shackle it to this sinking Titanic of a company WBD has become. I have always operated on the belief that you can do anything if you work hard enough at it, and believed deep down that there was some order, some justice in the universe, atheist though I be. We as a fandom did everything we possibly could, we loved this show harder than anything. The numbers were there, the awards nominations were there, the critic praise was there, and we were loud and loyal every single day. I felt like we could do this - how could we not win when we've done so much, and the show deserves it so much? Surely cause and effect will prevail.

This fight seemed small, though really it wasn't; we fought for the right of artists and creators to make quality, original stories and have them told to their natural end, we fought for diversity representation to be more than a token character - OFMD raised the bar so much higher on all fronts, we fought to shed light on the chaos and impending collapse of this industry silencing art and exploiting writers, actors, and all manner of production workers. It was a small fight from the outside, one that I really felt we could win. And I put my heart and soul into it, because if we could win this, if we could save this simple, kind love story about two guys on a boat, then maybe there was hope for the bigger, badder stuff too. It shouldn't seem an insurmountable task for several thousand fans to convince a streaming service that they'd turn a tidy profit to give our show one more season.

Yet we lost - through no fault of our own. I am so proud of us. But that really struck deep for me. If one peabrained CEO of a media company wouldn't budge on greenlighting a show that was in his every best interest business-wise - perhaps enough to even save Max from going under in the not-too-distant future - my god, what hope was there for changing anything bigger? The 'real' problems of the world? When no amount of ethos, logos, or pathos can penetrate these men at the top, where's that hope to fight? Lately the world seems like it's just going belly up all over. If we gave everything we could, and it still wasn't enough - if it could never be enough - what hope is there? It's like chaining yourself to a tree and the bulldozer plowing right on ahead. And I think that broke something in me. It shook me to my foundations because it broke my rules of how things are supposed to work. We believed hard enough, we worked tirelessly, and we deserved it for how important this show was to so many people. And it didn't matter. Our best wasn't enough. And that caused an avalanche of all of the horrible, scary things piled on my shoulders - we're losing the Amazon rainforest too fast to save, climate change is going to turn the corn belt into a dustbowl by mid-century, a border wall is going to devastate imperiled wildlife in Texas, deforestation and hurricanes on songbird wintering grounds could lead to entire species extinctions, saltmarshes are our lifeline and they're shrinking and we're still building stupid concrete stormwalls, invasive diseases will completely alter the composition of our forests to be unrecognizable to our children, and if you don't make every slide of this powerpoint utterly perfect and you fail to convince every single person in attendance to get rid of their lawn then you've failed and the world is doomed.

I've struggled with being a perfectionist my whole life. This didn't help.

That's where I was a couple hours ago. But I took some deep breaths. I know the world isn't fair. But I really thought if we could win this one battle, then we could win the war.

But here's what I realized. Everything we did mattered. It mattered so much. Because there's the show, and then there's everything that was birthed out of that show. The community, so many of us around the world who have been uplifted by Our Flag Means Death in a real and lasting way that we will take with us and spread to affect those around us. The Stede Bonnet effect goes global. We raised thousands and thousands of dollars for charities around the world, real people whose lives have been improved, or maybe even saved, because of us and this silly pirate show. We brought a hell of a lot of attention to WBD and their shitty practices, keeping the momentum going in a way that I think is only going to build - and I sure hope it leads to Zaslav getting deposed. We have demanded more queer stories, more BIPOC stories, more disabled and autistic and middle-aged stories, stories with exquisite costumes and award-worthy wigs, dear lord, and we are being heard. We have expressed such love and support for the cast and crew, showing them that we appreciate their hard work and that we will be behind them in their future projects. So many of them have told us how the show and its fans have changed their lives. We convinced Rhys that his career isn't winding down but winding up, and to be unapologetic about his wonderful weirdness - we've proven to everyone through this show that your weirdness is what someone out there is going to love you for, not in spite of. We rallied to help writers and actors during the strikes in a way that was taken to heart and remembered. We have been out here talking it through as a crew, and turning poison into positivity, for over two years now, and that impact is permanent. They can cancel our show, they can try and slap copyright notices on our fan merch, and spew bullshit excuses about the numbers not being there. But Our Flag Means Death sparked a movement, the biggest pirate crew the world has ever seen, using our power for good.

We may not have any more new material for our show for a while, or ever. But I maintain hope that when the dust has settled and streaming has entered its 'new era' that they'll remember us and throw us a lifeline. Because hope is a part of my genetic makeup, and even in cancellation my hope has been renewed that the fight is worth fighting, that our individual choices of kindness are having an effect, and making the world a little easier to live in bit by bit. No one can take from us what we have built out of this show. And thanks to pirating, they can't take the actual show from us either. Despite this, no matter the outcome, I am so happy we got two seasons of this wonderful series. That was more than almost anyone expected. The story belongs to all of us, and it will always live on. We did not truly lose this battle, because in the process we gained more than we could have ever imagined. And I know there's still so much more to come. That gives me the strength to keep doing what I do, every day.

To me, Our Flag Means Hope.

#our flag means death #ofmd #this is a very long post but I need to write it for me #seeing the outpouring of love on twitter today has really been so needed #also realizing after i finish this that my blog name is literally 'There is always hope'#so i mean. this really has been my brand since i started here #personal

196 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 2 months

Note

Hi there! First off, thank you so much for doing what you do, this blog is amazing!

When browsing on AO3, I tend to filter out M and E rated fics cause I’m sex repulsed. As a result, I fear that I’m missing out on some great fics. So I was wondering if you had any recommendations for M/E rated fics that don’t contain sexual content? Could be show or book inspired

Hello! Here are some M-rated fics with no smut. Some may skirt the line, with talk of or allusion to sex, so be cautious if you need to...

Checkmate by UnproblematicMe (M)

On the one hand Crowley really loved the post-apocalyptic – more relaxed – version of his angel. But since Aziraphale felt more comfortable in the demon’s presence now, the arrogant bastard he deep down was showed more often than in the past. He had acquired a liking for teasing his old friend and while Crowley of all people had no business being annoyed about friendly bickering, this time he really was miffed.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by soft_october (M)

"When the ship puts in at port, Aziraphale is hustled away by the captain to the purser's office: rescuing the third son of an established lord will merit him a fat prize indeed. Aziraphale’s face is a pale oval caught between a pair of long blue coats as Crowley, who isn’t anything to anyone - except he thought he was, he thought - watches him go, peeking through the slats in the ship's railing. Those blue eyes - too innocent, too kind for what this world expects of him - keep lock with his until the last. Aziraphale is fussed over, put under the command of the captain who rescued him, gets a letter from his father that he carefully keeps in the cover of his bible, continues his slow rise through the ranks of His Majesty’s Navy. Crowley, he later learns, takes up piracy." Golden Age of Piracy AU.

Trust by GayDemonicDisaster (M)

Heaven has taken a demon prisoner. Aziraphale doesn't think it's right. I added an illustration of Trueform Crawly in this universe.

O That I On Wings Could Rise by wyrmy (M)

"It had been one month since the apocalypse, and Aziraphale was blissfully happy. Crowley was everything- and more- that he could wish for in a boyfriend. Their relationship was an unending source of joy." Why then does Aziraphale feel a lingering unease, an emotional tension that he doesn't quite know how to release?

Getting Lucky by Supergeek21 (M)

As much as Aziraphale has a soft spot for romance, he has never given much thought to sex, that is until an over-zealous acquaintance insinuates he should be having it with Crowley... tonight! Crowley is thrilled to finally be openly dating Aziraphale. He'd do just about anything to make his angel happy, even things he never imagined his love would be interested in. What happens when two supernatural beings love each other very much, but are still very bad a communication?

Velvet darkness, burning bright by hapax (M)

Anthony Crowley is an ancient vampire who is so Done: with immortality, with his human prey, with his fellow vampires, with himself. Then one evening he encounters a gorgeous, mysterious man who finally renews his interest in living. Too bad this same man seems likely to kill him.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #mod d

77 notes · View notes

softichill · 8 months

Text

The Sounds of Nightmares unofficial transcript

Chapter 1 - The Workers in the Walls

------------

[Click]

[Shifting, Otto clears his throat]

Otto: Yesterday evening marked my first true session with the girl. Signs of significant disorder are greater than I initially thought. Her imagination is… vast. But one phrase in particular has become an earworm of sorts.

[Click, this time of a tape being inserted]

Recording of Noone: “He was right in front of me breathing hard… That’s what I remember most. The awful smell, like when sausage goes bad.”

[Click, the tape stops]

Otto: Scent while dreaming is a rarity. An indication of sensory transcendence. She may be a fine candidate for a neurological study… but her health must come first. [Sigh] There are undoubtedly other details I missed in her recount.

Otto: [Deep breath] From the top, then. [The tape begins to rewind] Sleep be damned tonight.

[Intro plays]

[Click]

Otto: This is the Counselor. Herein are my preliminary case notes for tape #54, session #1, patient #1220… [mumbling] referring to children by numbers… [deep breath, normal] Our relationship goes beyond mere ethics, so I can leave that practice to the heartless quacks on the upper floors. But to remain professional, I’ll use a moniker the girl has given herself… Noone. (A/N: pronounced like noon)

[quiet tapping as a drink is poured]

Otto: Noone has been in CPI care for a fortnight. Given her rather remarkable medical history, her mental state seems relatively unremarkable. [stirring his drink] She finds herself in my ward due to worsening, though not recurring, nightly afflictions. Parasomnia isn’t uncommon among patients; not to imply she’s unworthy of treatment, only that there are others worse off.

[Otto shifts in his seat and sips his drink before setting it down]

Otto: Noone also displays signs of mild trauma. As such, Nightmare Disorder is possible. Given her diffidence, the focus for this session is to build rapport. I’m hopeful Noone will open up and we’ll learn what lies inside that little head.

[Ceramic clicking, Otto says “Oh!” at the sound of papers being knocked over. More ceramic, the audio cuts]

[A door closes]

Otto: Take the big chair, Noone. Sit, lie, saddle it like a horse, whatever you please.

[Otto pulls out paper as Noone sits down. The chair creaks]

[quiet jazz starts to play]

Otto: How’s that?

Noone: …fine I guess.

Otto: [Walking to his chair] That look on your face says there’s more on your mind.

Noone: It’s… it’s like the music I used to hear through the walls. In our old apartment. Before we moved into the fancy house.

Otto: Would you like to talk about that? Your old apartment?

Noone: No, counselor.

Otto: Alright. An easier question to start. How are you feeling today?

Noone: …Bit sad.

Otto: For any reason in particular?

Noone: …Um… the red flower… mum and dad left. It went all wrinkled. I tried lifting a petal and… it broke off. But, then I saw why- little crawlies, everywhere underneath the dirt.

Otto: Aphids? How unpleasant. [shift] Must be hard, here all alone. That wasn’t just a flower to you, was it?

Noone: No, counselor.

Otto: Y-Your parents only want you to feel like you again. And we’ll see to that! One day at a time.

[Otto writes something]

Otto: Have you been sleeping?

Noone: Yes, counselor.

Otto: Call me Otto. Sleeping well?

Noone: …Yes.

Otto: Noone? This is a place of honesty. The truth, please.

Noone: …Fine. Middle of the night, I keep waking.

Otto: And are you perspiring?

Noone: …um…

Otto: Sweating?

Noone: Oh. Uh, yes. And, my heart beats like there’s a- pecking bird in my chest.

Otto: Did these nightmares coincide with the onset of your sickness?

Noone: No. O-only after.

Otto: And, do you remember your nightmares or do they disappear come morning?

Noone: I remember. Everything.

Otto: [pause, shifting] …Would you be alright to tell me about them? Now, or, later?

Noone: Yes. Um… The one I had last night, it’s still here. The feeling. But, may I have some juice? My head’s light, and mum says it helps.

Otto: (amused) I’m not sure that’s true. Regardless, you may.

[audio cuts]

[audio resumes. Noone is sipping a juice box.]

Otto: I see you eyeing my painting. I’ve had it since I was a boy. “The Zahir’s Gaze”, it’s titled.

Noone: Why is it so- blurry?

Otto: It’s a hidden image. The trick is to unfocus your eyes. Try it!

[short pause]

Otto: There! Can you make it out now?

Noone: …no.

Otto: I’ve got an idea. Keep your eyes on the painting- let your mind wander. Meanwhile, you can tell me your dream! If you’ve finished your juice.

Noone: [sipping] I have.

Otto: From the beginning, then.

[pause]

Noone: …It started when I woke up. Somewhere I didn’t belong.

Otto: Describe this place, please.

Noone: Everything was white. Only slowly I realized snow was falling on a field. The view was peaceful looking out from so high up. Like I was… one. With the cold.

Otto: You felt this cold?

Noone: Not like the counties in winter, but, more like watching someone who is chilled. Around me, but not… in me.

[the music quietly stops. Ambience for the dream begins]

Noone: I turned away from the window, which was only a hole in the stone wall of the curved passageway, that stretched on a long ways. This- odd feeling, told me to get up. But I couldn’t stand because the ceiling was so low. I crawled ahead and… if not for the tiniest bit of light I would have fallen. Another passageway appeared on the floor. Its edges throbbing in the dark. Suddenly I- I heard a clinking from below.

Noone: That same feeling told me I was lost inside a giant. A huge one made out of stone, and the only way out was to keep going through its veins. I climbed into the pitch dark,

[Dream!Noone gasps, the sound of sliding plays]

Noone: And immediately began sliding down the icy wetness, going and going, faster and faster. I thought the slide would never end and just- and-

[Dream!Noone grunts as she hits the ground. The sliding stops]

Noone: It shot me out.

Otto: …Did it hurt?

Noone: …Not like when you fall for real.

[footsteps]

Noone: I can see what it is now! The painting! A-a tiger, and two moons.

Otto: That’s not quite right.

[Noone walks back]

Noone: (with interest) I’ve never seen a tiger before.

Otto: Keep trying! Remember to unfocus. Continue, as you wish.

[pause]

Noone: An orange glowing came from a candle. But the light didn’t reach the room’s corners. A tiny hole had been cut out of the stone beside me. “The snow,” I thought. “How nice it would be to watch fall again.” I look through, but there was no snow. [ambience picks up] Only a room, brimming with glass jars. Light danced through them, coming from a doorway on the opposite side. Until… a figure stepped through it.

Noone: This HUGE man. Wore a long coat and fishing hat. His face kind of… dripped as he watched me. Then he was gone. W- He was an.... I-I can’t remember. It’s the only thing I can’t remember.

Otto: Could it have been someone you know, your father perhaps?

Noone: (immediately) No. This man doesn’t belong to our world.

Otto: I don’t quite follow.

Noone: That’s just the feeling he gave.

Otto: You keep mentioning this “feeling”. Can you try to explain?

Noone: You can’t understand! Not unless you were there- you just can’t!

Otto: It’s alright, Noone. We don’t have to talk about him. Relax. Breathe.

[Noone takes 3 exaggerated, slow breaths]

[ambience gets slightly louder. It’s faint, clicking machinery]

Noone: Turning from the hole, I spotted an exit on the far wall. That’s where the clinking was the loudest. I started towards it, when a shadow ran out from the corner, that of a child. I shouted “Hey!”

[Dream!Noone: Hey! Where are we?]

Noone: “Where are we?” But, quiet as a mouse, he climbed through the pulsing exit. And carelessly I followed.

[Dream!Noone grunts as she hops through the exit]

[Machinery gets louder]

Noone: The room over was bigger. And the child was gone. All over the walls and floors, were more pulsing passages. Like living ant tunnels. All kinds of springs laid about, and little oil cans and strange tools.

[Dream!Noone gasps]

Noone: Suddenly, footsteps. Approaching, matching the rhythm of the clinking. [sound of a wooden crate] Knowing I didn’t belong I hid behind a wooden box.

[a hoard of small footsteps alongside the machinery]

Noone: Peeking up, I saw other small shadows entering the room. They step by each other silently. Most passed into different doors, but two stayed behind, searching for the springs. They were not children. Not at all. Even in dim light they remain shadows. Things not quite there, as if forgotten, not wanting to be seen.

[Things clicking, cracking, and moving around]

Noone: They held nasty tools and… their empty faces showed they weren’t very bright. Both stood, looked down a passageway… and jumped.

[Dream!Noone gets up and follows them]

Noone: With nowhere to go I did the same, climbing to the platform below.

[Dream!Noone lands. The machinery is even louder now]

Noone: I finally saw what was making all that noise. Golden, spinning wheels. Fat ones, small ones, skinny ones, and they went down so deep I couldn’t see the end! I didn’t know what they were until that faraway feeling came back and told me.

Noone: They were gears. With- teeth which locked perfectly into one another, clicking on and on in a song that never stopped. There were a hundred-hundred of the dull little shadows, working to keep the mechanisms going. Felt… without their doing, the gears would surely stop. And the giant would break apart stone-by-stone... But as I leaned over the edge, distracted, my foot must’ve knocked a wrench.

[a quick clink. Dream!Noone gasps]

[the wrench falls a long way down]

Noone: All the shadows stared up. And a few begin climbing my way. They move separately, but… as one. [Dream!Noone breathing quickly] I panicked and tucked between a set of levers, in the tight space my dress got caught [Dream!Noone grunts] on the tooth of a massive gear, pulled me up and around until my dress tore [tearing fabric, Dream!Noone yelping] shooting me onto a pipe below, where I lost my grip only to hit another platform.

[Dream!Noone lands, breathing heavily]

Noone: The shadows stopped chasing me, working again as… the yank* took the piece of my dress, now stuck between two gears, causing all the others to slow.

Noone: While they were bothered, I took the chance to escape.

[Dream!Noone running, machinery fades out]

Noone: The wall in front of me went… went down and around, f-forever and ever. Along with the mechanisms. I grabbed onto a rod, sliding on, when a big creak [metal groan] groaned above, and the gears went right back to singing their song.

[machinery starts again]

Noone: The ripped fabric floated down before me, passing by a tiny crack in the stone. Painful cries came through it. [faint echoey scream] I shouldn’t have wanted to know what was on the other side, but… I did.

[more screaming]

Noone: A small room with chains covering the floor. And 3 identical nun-like dresses, freshly pressed, hanging by a bed. Then, the chains jangled [Chains jingling, man gasping], and my heart stopped. [Man groans] A frail body slumped against the wall, a chain around his neck. He was right in front of me breathing hard… That’s what I remember most. The awful smell, like when sausage goes bad.

Otto: Hold on a minute, Noone. [Noone gasps. Ambience suddenly stops] You distinctly smelt his breath?

Noone: Not his breath. Him. So rotten, it still stings my nose now.

Otto: How certain are you?

Noone: You told me to tell the truth, no? I am.

[Otto quickly writing]

Noone: Do you still want to hear the rest of my nightmare?

[Otto still writing]

Noone: Otto?

Otto: Hm? O-oh. Apologies. My mind was divided, and that’s not fair to you.

Noone: [quiet sigh] Anyways.

Noone: Looking through that crack, I realized something. (whisper) I was inside the walls. Like a rat. On the other side was an entire world. (normal) And everything got… w-worse from there.

[very quiet ticking]

Noone: Lower and lower I climbed until I had gone- down so deep, that there was nothing but steam and darkness. And louder ticking, back, and forth. Back, and forth. Wanting to give up I sat listening.

[ticking is more noticeable]

Noone: I’d nearly fallen asleep, when suddenly a small shape crawled out from inside the wall below. “Another Worker came for me,” I thought. But… when they looked up… I saw their eyes. A child. For certain, this time. And… their hair was covered in goo, which made it hard to tell if they were a boy or a girl. Still, I climbed down, full of energy.

[Dream!Noone climbing down]

Noone: Nearly the amount I used to have.

Noone: We stood in silence, a moment. Stuck in their hair was… black liquid moving like smoke.

Noone: “What’s in your-” [Dream!Noone at the same time] I started, [child shushing] but they put a hand over my mouth. Not until they pointed at the wall, did I understand why. Its another crack, led to yet another chamber.

[Dream!Noone and child walking over. Metallic hammering starts up]

Noone: It was a hideous workshop. All around were… half-made… projects? Built from wood and metal, with all kinds of straps and cranks. Their shapes made my chest tighten. A collection of… masks was- on the shelves with screws and spikes on them, positioned to fit perfectly into a mouth!

Noone: A tall woman bent over a new project, [faint humming] wearing a familiar dress. Long heavy chains coming out under its tail. [Chains scraping, more humming] She moaned, enjoying herself. I could feel she’d been at it for hours. Her presence alone told that she was the keeper of this stone giant. Of the world beyond the walls.

Noone: Turning to a pile of scraps… I saw her face. Equally… old and young, and her s-skin stretched back so tight that… only her eyes seemed human. I wanted so badly to know what she was building, and to scream all the same…

Noone: But before I could do either my new friend pulled me away. They pointed up.

Noone: From between the planks, a shadow studied us. The child pulled my arm but it was already too late. The Worker leapt down besides me, inspecting my body like a tool, reaching out with its wrench. The child pushed me away, [the sound of burning] letting a sliver of light shine out from the workshop to hit the shadow. Faster than fast, it tucked back into darkness, [sound stops] desperate to keep hidden.

[pause]

Otto: Noone, why have you stopped?

Noone: I’m thinking. …The next bit is hard to describe. The nightmare- it shifted.

[ambience picks up, earlier sound of machinery]

Noone: Steam reached around us. And we came to a place at the bottom of the gears. Between the walls.

[whoosh, tick]

[whoosh, tock]

[whoosh, tick]

Noone: In front of us, a long pendulum whooshed back and forth.

[whoosh, tick]

[whoosh, tock]

Noone: My friend grabbed hold as it swung by. I let it go past one, [tick], two, [tock], three times before finding the courage to do the same. We climbed as the pendulum rocked left and right, making my head dizzy. “Just a little more,” I repeated to myself, until my friend reached out a hand to pull me up.

[Both Dream!Noone and child grunt as she’s pulled up]

Noone: We’d made it. Finally, the center of the clock. The room was round with a spiral staircase, and a machine made of little metallic fingers, tapping a violent rhythm.

Noone: The ceiling was a white- clock face, but… all the numbers were wrong.

Noone: We immediately ran up the stairs [footsteps] and at the top, we stepped out into a courtyard.

[Dream!Noone and child breathing, stepping on grass. Machinery and ticking fades out]

Noone: My body began shaking as I heard them. [Faint screaming] Shouts and shrieks of pain. All I could do was stare up at the circular walls, which I had just been inside. This was the true building. There were a million rooms like the second one I peered into, all the way up, with- hands and limbs reaching out from between the bars that kept them locked in. My heart pounded like one of them. A Prisoner, trying to get free.

[Screaming and shrieking continues]

Noone: I shouted “Wait, please!”

[Dream!Noone: Wait! Please!]

Noone: But my friend was across the courtyard. Then, a jingling. The tall woman jumped down from above [jingling, thump] and with thumping steps, she went after my friend. A chain leapt out beneath her dress, like a snake. It caught their leg and the woman dragged the child through the snow, kicking and yelling.

[child struggling]

Noone: My friend scared to tears [child: Help!] yelled for help, and the woman spotted me. She began plodding my way and fear froze my feet. Getting closer and closer and all I could think was “Who brought me here, and why was I made to know these secrets?!” [chains jangling]

Noone: With skin so tight her mouth opened only a sliver with blackened teeth inside, hungry for something! …Something that swelled inside me.

[all ambience cuts off]

Noone: …Then I woke up.

Otto: …That’s… awful, Noone. I’m sorry. The woman in particular sounds… disturbing.

Noone: Yes. But, she didn’t scare me most. Not after I woke up. It was the Workers.

Otto: Hm… because they were mindless?

Noone: No. Because they were hidden. Nobody knew they existed… that’s how I feel sometimes. Since getting the water sickness, (increasing distress) as if things are in my body but instead of making me tick they’re killing me, like the bugs in the flower pot- Ugh, I can feel them in my head!!!

Otto: Noone. Listen to me. I’ll do everything within the limits of my command to help you, but there’s nothing bad inside you. Nothing.

Noone: …um…alright.

Otto: [pause] I have… one more question, and I think it’s enough for your first day, okay?

Noone: Okay.

Otto: Noone, have you ever heard of mutual dreaming?

Noone: Mutual dreaming?

Otto: Sharing the… experience with another person.

Noone: How could what’s in my head be in someone else’s head? And who would I share it with?

Otto: Questions that have hounded my outer colleagues for years. Your perception of temperature and smell while dreaming is sometimes thought to be an indicator of this transpersonal phenomenon. While I’m not convinced of its ontological validity, I’ve longed to study a case like yours. Unfortunately- I’ve only known one other person to exhibit this faculty, years ago-

Noone: Who? Were they like me?

Otto: …My… (quietly) beloved Cici**... uh- not quite. In any case, my ambitions fell off, I… I lost sight, of… many things. But you’ve stimulated a part of me nearly forgotten.

Noone: Oh. I think I see it now, Otto.

Otto: Yes! That’s right! We’re in this together.

Noone: No. The painting.

Otto: Oh.

Noone: It’s a map. Of stars and two circles around it.

Otto: Yes! Good! An astrolabe, in fact.

Noone: Astrolabe?

Otto: An ancient instrument, used to locate positions in time and space. Now, surely, you’re exhausted-

Noone: I don’t want to go to my room. To sleep. Will… will you walk me back?

Otto: Of course! And we can’t forget your nightly confectionary. [the sound of wrappers] Here now, take your pick.

[Wrapper crinkling]

Otto: Sweets for my sweet.

[ceramic clinking]

[click]

[Outro plays]

------------

*It's a little hard to tell what word she says here

**I have no idea if this is how it's spelled

#little nightmares #the sounds of nightmares #tson #ln podcast #transcript #ln otto #ln noone #otto #noone #GAH there's so many things in this episode alone #Noone choosing the name here herself and clearly being No one.....#The warden/torturer lady wearing a ''familiar'' dress #Whatever the Ferryman was up to #AAAA there's so much to see here!!!!!!!!#Anywho hopefully this transcript helps people know what happens in the episode!!!#the sounds of nightmares transcript

177 notes · View notes

aithusarosekiller · 1 year

Text

A little thing to think about that makes me love the Crowley=Raphael hc. (This isn’t canon and I don’t claim it to be, it’s just random crap I’ve strung together for fans of the headcanon.)

Put yourself in the shoes of Satan. You are, from what we can gather, a fallen Angel, and we can also safely assume that you were previously Samael, a fallen archangel. You fell from heaven to become Satan, ruler of Hell and King of demons. All other demons are fallen angels, you are the only ex-Archangel, which could very well give you more power and influence over them, and, for the sake of this post, that power would stop the chance of revolts against you. They are demons, after all, they aren’t supposed to be kind and loyal. But there is an issue, when your brother Raphael goes missing from heaven, after following your footsteps and -you discover- falling to hell. Partially your fault of course, he always looked up to you, but that is unimportant.

You now have a dilemma. You are no longer the only archangel, and fear that Raphael could potentially overthrow you. You must find somewhere to assign him to ensure you keep your place at the top of hell. You could trust him fully, and keep him by your side. You could pretend he is the same as all the other demons and hope for the best.

Or you could assign him to earth to keep him away from you. Give him tasks to keep him busy, stop him from seeing too much of the other demons. He’s changed his name to Crawly, and then again to Crowley, so nobody knows who he is, not even heaven.

He’s still your brother of course, so you entrust him to go up to Eden and tempt Adam and Eve. You give him more chances than the other demons, letting him get away with petty temptations and tampering that other demons see as lazy. You trust him above all others to deliver your child, the Antichrist, to earth despite everything he has done and everything he has failed to do.

Whether this is truly out of brotherly trust or instead out of fear and desperation to keep him on your side doesn’t matter, because as long as you keep him away from your throne, you don’t care.

#The show and book say Lucifer but Lucifer is not a canonical abrahamic figure so we’re going for Samael #good omens #crowley is raphael #good omens prime #good omens book #this might make no sense but it makes sense to me

251 notes · View notes

coastielaceispunk · 1 year

Text

Another Frontier

Francisco Morales x f!reader (no descriptions)

Word Count: 4.7K+ (back with a bang!)

Warnings: fluff city my loves, language, established relationship, husband Frankie, soft Frankie, Frankie is a menace, Alaska things, lots of kissing, a couple of “good girl”s, nothing graphic but allusions to sexy times.

Summary: Having some vacation days, you travel with your husband Frankie to Yakutat, Alaska, his favorite place ever. His new job takes him many places and this is the one he wants to share with you. The Last Frontier is scary but you have your strong man to protect you every step of the way.

A/N: Yes, Yakutat is a real Alaskan village. It's actually my favorite place! My job took me there many times and it’s a beautifully wild, untamed village of wonder. All of the pictures in this post are my own from Yakutat! Refer to the mood board for the actual lodge I have stayed in and path hiked. Every time I found myself in this village I would think to myself, “Frankie would love it here.” Special thanks to my wonderful beta @lowlights. I hope you all enjoy this little adventure to the tundra with our favorite rugged man, Frankie!

MASTERLIST

+++++

Stale. The air is stale. The colors in the room are stale. How is it that even the lighting in this damn place is…stale? When Frankie wanted you to travel with him on his work trip to his favorite place, this is not what you had in mind. At all. You could not have even imagined this post-apocalyptic looking lodge if you tried.

The lodge you currently find yourself in is located in Yakutat, Alaska. You should’ve done more research before agreeing to join him on this particular adventure. Not that you aren’t into the outdoors, you love to be in nature with your handsomely rugged husband, to watch him in his happy place, he kills all the creepy crawlies for you and keeps you warm, but…this is extreme.

After an early military retirement, early as in he did his twenty years and got out at age 39, Frankie stuck with helicopters doing search and rescue, wildfire response, medical evacuations, you name it, everywhere you lived. His love for flying has brought you both many places but after so many years, it's time to leave it to the young bucks. Sweet man’s eyes are getting worse and you adore him in his thick framed glasses always, even though he hates to wear them. Like he's failing at something if he has them on. If anything he’s winning at the whole aging thing, damn him and his beautiful grays.

Frankie could never fully give up helos, and you would never ask him to, so he found his calling in instructing. You get to live in one spot, finally, finding your way back to you and Frankie’s hometown. Pursuing your career where you want to be, Frankie gets to travel all over the nation training pilots and crews in helo search and rescue tactics. It’s the dream job he never knew he wanted.

With an opening in your schedule he begged for you to tag along on this trip. His absolute favorite place to instruct.

“Alaska?!”

“Mi amor, come on, you have the days, let me share this adventure with you this one time,” he pleaded, tangled around you laying in bed one morning last week. He nuzzled your cheekbone and ear, his forehead against your temple, you could feel the pinch of his eyebrows as he continued, “come on. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon pleeeease.”

You smiled up at the ceiling, traveling with him would be amazing, you wouldn’t have to miss him this time, like every other time, and you do have the off days, so you let out a long sigh followed by, “okay.”

Frankie squeezed you so tight in his excitement you swear your back cracked and then he leaped out of the bed rambling about everything you both will need to wash and pack for the trip to the Last Frontier. You watched his gleeful frenzy from the bed with the biggest smile.

You are not smiling anymore though. Your mouth is a worried straight line. Last Frontier…more like a forgotten frontier. This village right here is the land that time forgot. And this lodge. My goodness. You know it's cleaned sure, but it looks…weathered.

Frankie is currently in the bathroom that is shared between two rooms. He will have to explain the etiquette for that later. He had to “hit the head” after the last long flight on the small eight passenger prop plane you arrived in. Frankie said he was so proud of how you took the flight with such grace, you did actually enjoy it. The flight was all beautiful mountains and glaciers. You enjoyed his praise too.

So, you are standing at the door alone taking in your surroundings. Yep, stale is still the word. Of course this is Frankie’s favorite place, there is barely anything in here. Bare minimum necessities, everything is simple and a shade of brown, more room for gear than anything, and there’s no tv or wifi. Off the grid, literally. Not complicated. Just a place to sleep after a hard day's work. With plumbing? Shit lets hope so, what does shared bathroom mean?

You place your pack down to inspect the rest of the room. Two full sized beds. How does his broad ass even sleep on these? Torn up carpets. Best to keep my shoes on in here. Crooked framed photographs of fish and ducks on one wall. Holy Alaska.

Frankie explained that there are no snakes or reptiles in Alaska but there are spiders and bears and wolverines and porcupines everywhere. Those are the ones you remember him mentioning anyways. He’s been rocketing information at you the whole way up here. His excitement was apparent. Most of the time you were distracted by his beauty when he talked about what he is passionate about. All darting expressive eyebrows, deep brown eyes, plush lips, and shining teeth. You zone out on his good looks often.

With critters in mind you approach the beds to inspect underneath. Like an uncomfortable child looking for monsters. Maybe Frankie should…nah fuck it you’re an adult. You kneel and lean forward to grab the bedding and pause. You rip the thick quilts up and hold your breath like you're going to find a damn moose under there. Nothing. More dirt and rocks and dust.

Frankie steps out of the bathroom to find you searching under the second bed, “Uh, sweetheart, what are you doing?”

You sit back on your heels to look up at him standing by the bags, “I, um, was just checking,” you stand up in your place, “Frankie, my love, this place is…rough.”

He puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight to one side, “not to your standards, princess?”

“Shut up. This place doesn’t meet a caveman’s standards!”

“Hey now,” he mocks offense and you both laugh.

“But seriously, are there bed bugs? I don’t know about sleeping in the beds,” you cringe.

Frankie starts to open the large duffle he brought, “Rule number one in Alaskan villages, always pack your own sleeping bag and blanket,” he spins back around with both items held up in his hands, the sleeping bag unfurling on cue with a flick of his wrist.

“Ah. Smart, very smart,” you cross your arms to avoid the urge to touch anything as you continue to look around.

He walks towards you to place the safe sleeping items on the left bed, “Well, baby girl, I am…experienced,” he winks and wiggles his eyebrows at you. He’s such a dork and you swat him with a scoff to tell him so. Frankie huffs a laugh, you know he’s just trying to ease your nerves about the strange arrangement.

“So, Mr. Experienced, what’s rule number two?”

Frankie’s face goes from playful to serious in an instant as he smoothes the sleeping bag out over the bed. “Rule number two in Alaskan villages…crack the door first to inspect outside before stepping out and keep your head on a swivel for bears, moose, and wolves. They are not friendly.”

You stare at him with wide eyes with your hands clenching your arms where they are crossed. Oh my fucking god he’s dead serious.

He finally turns his head towards you after a moment realizing you hadn’t said anything, he sees your fearful state and leaps into your space to grab your shoulders to bring you into his chest.

“No, no, no, sweetheart, it's ok! I promise!” He peppers you with kisses and holds you tight, “I didn’t mean to scare you, it was a half joke. Besides, rule number three is that You will never leave my side or sight, okay?” Frankie pushes you back to look in your eyes, now softened within the safety of his sturdy arms.

“Yes, um, okay. Good,” you clear your throat and will away the residual fear of this wild place, “you’re going first everywhere as my bait that's for damn sure!”

Frankie belly laughs with you as the lightness reenters the room. Almost brightening the whole space before your very eyes, everything will be just fine. Frankie has always got you.

“Alrighty,” he pulls away to put his jacket on, you already miss his warmth, “the sun doesn’t set around here until 10PM so I want to spend the remainder of our free time today somewhere magical. Get your day pack and your jacket, I will grab us some water, and we will stop by the general store before heading there. Sound good?”

“Forgot about the forever sun, hm, okay. Where here is magical?”

“You’ll see, sweetheart, let me show you what’s past all the dust and danger,” Frankie sends you a hopeful smile which you return then go about following his instructions.

When you are ready to go, Frankie opens the door and commences with rule number two. He gives you the okay, no danger this time, and you follow him out the door. The damn thing doesn’t close properly so he has to help you pull it shut. It put up a good fight because even Frankie grunted to lock it.

“Alaska is hard,” you mock complain and he laughs.

Momentarily you relaxed and forgot your surroundings. Turning towards the beat up rental, Alaska roads are even rougher apparently, sensing a pattern between the cars and buildings here, you’re thinking to yourself as you round the car to get in the passenger side. Out of the corner of your eye you see something black as night and furry. You YELL.

“OH FUCK SAKE!” you cover your whole face when the animal comes into focus. A damn dog.

Took you a second to notice that Frankie was already beside you with…his handgun out? That’s right he packed that. Also smart. Form of deterrence, nothing more, he told you while packing. He's giggling at you as he tucks the pistol into the back of his waistband…why is that hot?

“It’s just a pooch,” the dog runs to him happily as he kneels down to give the large mutt a couple hard pats, “this good girl is here to protect us, yea? Yea she is, what a good girl.”

The gun handling, good girl…this man. You shake your head, no, you have to stay alert out here. Frankie can’t be distracting you like that, goodness.

“I really keyed you up with rule number two, I’m sorry, just stay alert and I am right here. I’ve got you, mi amor, I promise,” Frankie opens your car door and places his hand on your lower back to help you inside. You can’t handle this man, your protector…he's everything.

Once seated in the SUV he shuts the door with a slam because apparently all doors in Yakutat hate people. Has to be the harsh weather, you reason. You buckle up and turn to watch your tall, broad husband fit himself through the driver side door and into the seat. He stretches back and rolls his hips forward to situate. Oh God. The small swell of his soft tummy rests above the belt in his jeans as he settles. Fuck.

“What?” Frankie asks when he finds you staring at him, “You alright?”

“Hm? Hmhm. Yes. Fine.”

Frankie flashes you a smile, puts his seatbelt on, and starts the vehicle. You’ve turned back towards the cracked windshield when he reaches his right hand to look over his shoulder to back out of the dirt parking lot. You swear he’s doing all of this on purpose now, damn him. In your heart though you know this is all just Frankie being Frankie, he never has to do much of anything to get you all riled up for him. Large hand and fingertips lightly brushing past you, strong arm and shoulder supporting his turn, and then his long freckled neck on display. Again…fuck.

You start the journey to find magic with a stop at the village store, the only store, the store that was the grocery, clothing, hardware, appliance, and everything else you can think of store. Then with road snacks in hand, the SUV started down the road into the wilderness. It was instant, the transition from almost civilization to nothing but the outdoors. Chilling but beautiful.

Either side of the dusty gravel road is framed by tall evergreen trees. Acting as the two thick walls that prevent the human race from affecting the untouched nature any further. Sentinels for the pristine environment that is the Alaskan tundra. The seclusion and forced direction is eerie. You lean forward to place your camera in the dash to capture the beauty of the empty road.

“Incredible isn’t it?” Frankie states breaking the appreciative silence that fell over the bumpy ride.

“Yes,” you breathe in awe of your surroundings, “this is magical, Frankie.”

He smiles at you and turns back towards the road ahead of him, “you’ve seen nothing yet, sweetheart.”

He says it with such hope and finality you couldn’t possibly think of what this surprise will be. You’ve already flown over snowy mountain tops, seen glaciers even with it being the middle of July, gasped at the clearest ocean waters you’ve ever seen, and watched him is his element. There’s more magic? You are starting to see why he wanted to share this place with you. Despite the unsettling lodge that somehow erased some of the awe. Hey, it’s a scary beautiful place. Some darkness and uneasiness within a stunning wild atmosphere. Oh. Now you are really seeing why this is Frankie’s favorite place.

He feels you staring at the side of his face again, “You ok? Really, tell me, is this all too much?” He reaches across to place his hand upon your jean covered thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth in comfort he thinks you need.

You hadn’t even noticed how long you were looking, the time passing quickly while you were stuck within your thoughts, you cover his hand with yours and squeeze, “I am more than okay, Francisco, I promise. Just in awe of where we are…and of you.”

Frankie blushes, “Good. We are just about there, after we drive across a little rickety bridge then we are at the trailhead.”

“Trailhead?”

“Right, sorry, it’s a very short hike to the magic.”

“Frankie…our definitions of short hike are very different!”

He laughs as you shove his shoulder playfully, “It’s your definition! I swear!”

Both of your laughing fades as the SUV approaches the bridge. Oof Alaska, caring for your roadways must be real tough. Frankie retracts his hand so both are back on the wheel for full driving focus. Um, yep necessary, because these guardrails don’t look like they would help much. You brace yourself and he grunts as the shitty rental bounces over the first severe pothole…his poor back and also, damn him for sounding like that in broad daylight. Night light? What time is it?

The bridge was so horrendous you barely noticed the rushing water beneath and at the other side is a small gravel turn around. The end of the road. Like, that's all the road of Yakutat, you’ve seen all of it already. Village life.

Frankie scans the area around the vehicle and you wait with bated breath. You don’t see anything but he's the trained one so you are going to follow his lead. You’d follow him anywhere, to the ends of the Earth, do anything he tells you. Ok, getting distracted again, pay attention this is actually scary.

“Rule number two is clear, let's go sweetheart, stay close,” he winks at you as he climbs out. First thing he does is stretch with his hands pressed into his lower back, a sliver of his skin showing and you forget how to use a door handle. As you struggle with the door you realize it's actually like the lodge door, thank god. Does he really make you that stupid? Well…yes. Frankie comes around to help you out as you laugh to yourself.

“Alaska is haaarrrd,” he mocks you from earlier, chuckling, and you roll your eyes.

“Yea, yea, Alaskan doors hate me. Ok…” you throw your arms out, “magic me, Mr. Experienced!”

A devious look flashes across his features along with one that looks like surprise at your words, hm that did something, file that away for later when we are sharing his sleeping bag.

“Careful what you wish for, baby girl,” Frankie abruptly pulls you close by your backpack strap to smash his lips to yours in a heated kiss that could melt an Alaskan glacier field. When he pulls away you are breathless, how are you going to hike now? He holds you close as he slams the shit out of the car door getting it to shut, with one strong arm, did it just get hotter out here? Shit.

“I am so happy you are here with me, mi amor, my favorite person in my favorite place is making my entire life right now.” You can feel the warmth of his words above you as he continues, “I am also happy no one else is out here currently so we can have all of the magic to ourselves. Let’s get down the trail, stay right behind me ok?”

“You got it, handsome,” you lean up to quickly kiss the patch of grays in his beard before he walks away towards the entrance of the forest. You follow behind as instructed trying to keep up with his long confident strides.

The trail is absolutely incredible. The canopy of the trees creates a natural tunnel and the low moss and ferns give it a bright green, almost prehistoric vibe. Again, the only human touch being the trail, like the road, but somehow showing a little more care and maintenance. Starting to see the Alaskan priorities more clearly.

Your tall, broad shouldered husband fills the whole space of the narrow path. His presence is natural. He’s comfortable and you can tell by the way he's walking, he is at ease completely. His gait opened, planting his feet heel to toe. On alert of course, but his spirit is still. In his element of the calm outdoors, Frankie is serene. Your eyes begin to water in the happiness of this realization. No matter what he is taking you to see, this right here is the magic. This man has worked through so many traumas, struggles, and hardships, he deserves whatever good in the world he can find. The world owes it to him. Frankie always shares with you that you are his peace, he is yours, but you are proud to see him find it in something else too. Just for him. And he wants to share it with you.

You go to wipe the one errant happy tear that slides down your cheek and slam directly into Frankies pack, “OOF! What is it…”

“Shh,” Frankie cuts you off as he throws his arm around your shoulders and takes you with him as he drops to one knee, “sorry, heard some rustling, trying to locate from where.”

Panic. All the panic hits you as you cover your mouth with both hands, your breathing suddenly way too loud in your own ears. He is scanning the woods calmly as your eyes are darting every which way. You are safe though because he is holding you so close. His even breaths start to calm you. That's when you see it.

“There?” You say as quietly as you can and point straight out into a small mossy clearing, something big, round and spiky.

“That’s my girl!” Frankie shouts lifting you up into a hug keeping an eye on the creature in the distance. “Good girl! Good eyes! Wow, look at that porcupine, it’s huge!”

“Why are you being so loud?! Is it safe?” You are muffled in his chest with your hands on his sides, shaking a little bit because you’re still scared as shit and oh yea, you got a good girl. Shiver.

“Yes! It’s safe because that big boy is in this area, meaning nothing else will be. He’s scary to other animals but harmless to us. What are you gonna name him?”

“What?”

“You spotted him, eagle eye, you get to name him,” Frankie smiles down at you then turns to watch the animal waddle through the clearing.

You also watch the gorgeous guy as a respectful trespasser to its home, its slow waddle is so cute, “I’ve got it!” Frankie turns to take in your sly smile, “Pope!”

Frankie cracks up, shaking you both with his deep laughter, “oh my god, I can’t wait to tell him that!”

“Let me get a picture,” you giggle at your cleverness and break away to get a good photo. Pope looks right at you as you call his name and it's the best wildlife photo you’ve ever taken.

After a few minutes of watching the safe, wild animal from afar, Pope disappears and you continue your hike, Frankie promising it’s only a few more minutes. The hike is nearing his definition of short.

You can see an opening in the distance, is that water? You did cross a bridge so it’s probable. You don’t really notice when Frankie lets you take the lead as your curiosity takes over and you hike the rest of the way with him right behind. The constant tunnel of greenery gives way to a large rocky path. You have to look at your feet to be careful where you step, bigger pieces of granite and quartz leading to a short course gravel shore with subtly lapping water. When you're more sure of your steps, you look up.

Then…

Fucking MAGIC.

All you can do is open your mouth to gasp, but no sound comes out. Standing stalk still with hands by your side you marvel at the majesty of what you are standing in.

From the gray rocky shore you take in the crystal clear lake that is filled with snow white and chilly blue floating icebergs of all shapes and sizes. What’s even more magical is the absence of any noise. The silence is all encompassing. Beyond the lake are the largest and barest mountains you’ve seen yet. The high night sun coloring them in purplish grays and highlighting their snowy peaks. They protect the silence of this valley lake filled with moving ice. The air is still and cool. Goosebumps. Refreshing after the trek out here. All that is heard is your heartbeat and it starts to sync with the rise and fall of the floating, pulsing, changing ice on the water. It is, in fact, pure magic.

You realize you are crying and it is just your body’s reaction to the scenery. You aren’t sad or happy, you are even. That’s when you turn to face Frankie who has been letting you take it in on your own. He is already looking at you. Your crying eyes meeting his own watery ones.

“Francisco…” you finally speak after who knows how long, “I have no words.”

Frankie finally approaches you, the sound of his footfalls upon the rocks cutting sharply through the silence, he takes your pack off your shoulders to place with his on the shore and pulls your back flush with his chest. Both facing the magic. With his warm arms around the top of your chest he hugs you close, resting his chin on the top of your ball cap. Your hands hold onto his forearms as you lean into him further.

After a few more silent moments together, Frankie speaks quietly, “I wanted to bring you here for a specific reason, besides just liking my favorite place more, my love.”

The emotion in his voice causes you to turn around in his arms, looking up at him, quietly waiting for him to continue.

“Your reaction to seeing this place, same reaction I had when I found it,” Frankie swallows what seems to be a lump in his throat matching his glistening eyes, “this is exactly how I felt the first time I saw you all those years ago. Comfortably still. At ease. Silent. Calm.”

Now you are full on sobbing as you take his face into your hands and jump up to kiss him desperately. Frankie swallows your cries with his soft lips as you both murmur I love you’s into each other's breaths. The action causes both of your ballcaps to fall to the ground, never breaking the silence around you.

As the deep kiss continues, you both pour all of your emotions into it and that's when Frankie’s legs give out, sliding you both down into the pebble shore to kneel directly in front of the other, arms around waists, hands grasping shirts, his tummy pressing into yours. Crying gasps turn into heated pants as you climb into his lap to straddle his narrow hips. Frankie starts kissing down your cheeks and neck, licking away your tears. Your arms fall around his shoulders and your fingertips find his curls to pull his lips back up to yours. He whimpers into your mouth and you quiet him with your tongue, making both of his hands drag up your torso, your arms, up your neck to spread his large hands over either side of your face. Frankie holds you still with his fingers in your hair to lick even further into your mouth as he tilts his head. Now you are the one breaking through the silence with a moan that is not appropriate for the pristine environment you are in.

Suddenly, a thunderous sound makes you jump within Frankies arms and yelp. He laughs breathlessly holding you close to his chest. “It’s okay, gorgeous.”

“What the hell was that?”

Frankie taps your thigh and maneuvers you to turn and sit between his legs facing the lake again. Damn you almost forgot where you were. When did we get down here? Frankie leans you back again and points out across the lake.

“See over there, between those two big ass mountains?” You nod your head smiling as he continues, loud as hell because he's excited and can’t control his voice in the quiet. “That sound was the glacier calving. That’s where all the chunks of ice come from and float out onto the lake to later melt small enough to flow down the river.” You’re following his finger, biting your lip as he explains the path. Oh there’s more. “The bluer the ice is, the newer it is because it turns white the longer it sits out exposed to the sunlight.”

“That’s incredible, baby, thank you for showing me all of this. I am so happy I could come with you.” You feel him smile into the crown of your head at your words. You could listen to him all day.

After an appropriate amount of time of appreciative silence, admiring the magic within each other’s arms on the cool rocky shore, you finally stand. Frankie stays sitting, legs sprawled out in front of him as he watches you take some pictures of the scenery. It is breathtaking to be here.

Frankie brings your pack to where you are crouched touching the clear, chilly water, “hey beautiful, are you ready to head back?”

You let out a long yawn as you stand and give him a nod as he helps you situate your straps over your shoulders. It has been a long day and he's got an early morning. Frankie scoops your ball cap back on your head and gives you a quick kiss before leaving the most magical place ever. You both turn around at the entrance to the trail to take it all in one more time.

“Back to the stale lodge I guess, farewell magic!” You wave at the iceberg lake and Frankie giggles, taking your hand to start hiking back to the rental.

“It’s not that bad, sweetheart.”

“Francisco…we are about to share a sleeping bag on top of a full size bed.” You deadpan stepping over a tree root trying to keep up with him.

“Ohh, we’re sharing are we?” Frankie raises his eyebrow and you realize you’ve given yourself away.

You shoot him the same raised eyebrow, “you can’t make out like that with me in the most magical place ever and not expect me to want more! You’ve been making me burn all day for you, lover,” you stop him and press your hands to his chest grasping his shirt, “my confident, capable, intelligent, protective, strong…Mr. Experienced.”

Frankie licks his bottom lip and shudders at the way you husk out the last few words. He pulls you against him and you can feel his want.

“Come now, my good girl, let's go make our own magic.”

When you arrive back at the lodge safe and sound it doesn’t seem so scary anymore. Frankie brings light to anything and everything in your life. His very own magic.

+++++

Another A/N: I want to apologize for my absence and lack of posting fics. Last year was a rough year of insane change and moving. This year my goal is to be more present! Just saying, there is lots more to come and I am excited to share it with all of you <3

Join my TAGLIST!

#my fic #a little adventure for my loves!#frankie fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

154 notes · View notes

picapicamagpie · 10 months

Note

What do you reckon the timeline is for Sing 2? like,how many days do you think it takes place over?

Oh man this is a PERFECT question for someone who likes analysing tiny details like me!! Thank you!! Of course, I mainly used the Klaus/Johnny scenes the gauge the time passed…

The film starts with a performance at the theatre, and we see Buster trying to sleep later that night. That same night he rallies everyone together to get a bus to Redshore. The bus scene only transitions once from night to day, so we can assume it took them a good 6+ hours to get into Redshore. They arrive in Redshore the following morning, so that’s 1 day already just for travel.

Once in Redshore they immediately get involved with Jimmy Crystal. He gives them a deadline of three weeks to complete the show, but here’s where the timeline gets iffy. I’m pretty sure everything goes to shit before those three weeks are up. We then cut to the next morning because Buster opens with “Good morning” and claims Steve stayed up all night making the pop-up book plan for the show.

So that’s 2 days so far.

Later on we see Norman and the piglets arrive and it’s night time, and when we see Miss Crawly driving to Clay’s it’s daylight. So 3 days.

It’s night when Miss Crawly returns, but then in the immediate scene we have Johnny in Klaus’ class. We can see daylight through the windows and Johnny says he “was practicing all morning”, so it’s daytime. 4 days in.

Johnny spends all day in Klaus’ class, because when we see his panic attack, it’s night time. It then cuts to the next morning when he’s repaired his skateboard and meets Nooshy. 5 days.

He’s with Nooshy all day, and it’s evening/night time when he has a private dance practice with her. The following scenes involving Meena and Clay and Buster are during the day, so that’s 6 days now.

Once Buster leaves Clay, the rest of the film takes place all the way up to the same night, when Out of This World is performed. Then the time gets really inconsistent. It’s night time when they are performing, because we see Jimmy rushing to the theatre in his limo during the night. It seems to still be night when he’s arrested too. But it’s morning as the group leaves Redshore? So were they putting this show on at like 4am?? How did they fill a theatre of random animals wandering around at 4am lmao. That part doesn’t really make sense. Unless there was a huge time gap between Jimmy getting arrested and the group getting on the bus. But it takes us up to 7 days. Then we see them at the Majestic, but it’s probably a time skip as I doubt it’s that same day. We have no way of knowing how many days it takes for the Majestic show to happen.

So the film takes place over at least 7 days. It could be more if they did time skips, but that’s just based on what we see. So in a week, Buster manages to:

- Get his entire group to travel to another city

- Score a show

- Plan the entire show from scratch

- Locate Clay Calloway, who has apparently been impossible to find until then according to Ash

- I guess mad kudos to the stage hands who manage to make all these props and costumes in less than a week. Klaus had to choreograph the whole show in a few days; no wonder he’s so angry lol

- There’s a bit of a plot hole with how Marcus and gang got there so quick. We see him take Johnny’s phone call from his garage, which is in Calatonia. But we also see it takes a long ass time to get from Calatonia to Redshore, so I’m not sure how the gorillas got there in like… an hour max? I guess Marcus could speed the whole way there but it still seems a bit of a stretch. Honestly after watching this again and paying attention to the times, it feels like Illumination were making sure to be consistent right up until the final show, and then they just went with whatever.

TL;DR - 7 days from start of the film to leaving Redshore. Impossible to tell when the final show at the Majestic takes place.

Thank for the nice ask, good anon 🥹💖

#and I got to watch the film again in the name of research #*oggling Klaus on screen* hmmm yes research #a nice mini dive like this is a good way to relax #bird chatter #sing #sing 2 #sing movie #sing 2021 #sing headcanons #klaus kickenklober #sing klaus #sing johnny #sing buster #Buster moon #clay calloway #sing nooshy #jimmy crystal

58 notes · View notes

crappymixtape · 1 year

Text

something infinite • part two

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART TWO P E R F E C T O N T H E S U R F A C E

part two of something infinite – you start your summer job at the library with your aunt only to find your new coworker is someone, an annoying someone, you’ve met before | ( 2k, angst, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader – find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here )

J U N E 1 9 8 7 🎶 to be young ( is to be sad, is to be high ), ryan adams

“So its super easy, just reference the library ID numbers here on the spine with the section and author name and voila! Back on the shelf.”

Joyce was hunched over next to you as you stared at the rolling cart full of book returns.

“Okay, sure,” you nodded to yourself, turning one of the books over in your hands and looking at the little numbers printed on the label wrapped around the spine. Seemed easy enough? You’d probably find a way to mess it up though. “I’m gonna have like, a million questions,” you gave her an apologetic smile.

“Of course you will!” Joyce’s bright laugh made a few people look up in annoyance and she gave them a sheepish wave as if to say, sorry. "I’m just here at the desk if you need anything,” she half-whispered, then gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before turning back to her computer to leave you to it.

Sure, great, you sighed under your breath, fingers drumming on the stacks of books as you pushed the cart toward the non-fiction section.

The library was a lot quieter than you liked, uncomfortable and stuffy like when you used to go to church with your grandma on Sundays. Like you didn’t quite belong there. Like even just breathing annoyed the people browsing the shelves.

Glancing up to look out the long bank of windows on the other side of the aisle, you could tell it was getting hotter by the minute. It was only 9am, but the summer sun was creeping higher in the dusty blue Indiana sky, promising popsicles and turquoise water and snuck beers once your shift was over. Strange as this new place was, you were settling in surprisingly well.

Will and Jonathan had been a little shy at first, but after a few days the three of you discovered what you’d been missing out on all those years away. Duran Duran screaming at you from the speakers in Jonathan’s room as you thumbed through his vinyl, helping Will come up with new creepy crawlies for his latest campaign storyline, and El. Well. El had quickly become a fast favorite.

She was younger than you, but only by a couple of years, and while she could be odd at times she was witty as hell and after a late night up eating cold pizza and watching The Thing it was like she’d always been a part of it all.

It was painfully obvious the three of them were incredibly close. You’d been afraid to fit in, but they welcomed you with open arms, and that included everyone else too.

Everyone else.

Eddie and Robin. Nancy and Mike. Max, Lucas, and Dustin. More than just neighbors. More than friends. Their found family. Their heart. Their everything. And as every Indiana sunset painted the sky cotton candy pink and soft peachy oranges you felt more and more like this was home.

“Hey, sweetie, sorry to interrupt. Do you think you could show Steve how this works?”

Joyce’s voice brought you hurtling back to the library and you blinked a few times, not quite registering what she’d asked. “Steve?” looking over your aunt’s shoulder you saw a familiar mopey boy poking and prodding at the books on the end of the aisle.

“Yeah, Harrington. A sweet boy, really, just–” she stumbled over her words unsure of how to describe him and instead settled on a small hand wave in his direction.

Steve. Of course his name was Steve.

Your heartbeat fluttered against your neck as you tried to maintain a neutral expression, but the irritation and anger from earlier in the week licked like a flame in your chest.

Shouldn’t you apologize?

“Yeah, sure,” you tried a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes as your aunt beamed up at you.

“Wonderful! Steve, come on over, hon. It’s really easy. I’m sure you’ll catch on quick, but in case you have questions–” and she took your arm, dragging you front and center as the boy finally looked up and froze on the spot at the sight of you.

“You?” fell out of his mouth and a flush crept up his neck and across his cheeks as he realized how it had sounded.

“Oh! You know each other? That’s great! I’ll just leave you to it then. Thanks, sweetie,” Joyce gave your shoulder a squeeze and hurried back down the aisle to her desk leaving the two of you staring daggers at each other.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered under his breath, huffing a laugh.

“Nope, just me,” you sniped, turning away to run your hands over your face. Unbelievable. Why in the hell did this guy have a job at the library?

“Real cute.”

When you finally felt like you could look at him without being a complete asshole you turned around to see him leaning lazily against the returns cart, fingers bumping across the book spines. Even the way he was standing irritated you. Like he owned the place. Like he no matter what you said he was going to do what he wanted.

“What are you doing here anyway?” came out and it surprised you almost as much as it did Steve, but he recovered from your words quickly and jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“None of your business. Now are you gonna show me how to–to do whatever the hell it is you do here or what?”

You scoffed, unable to do anything but stand there smiling incredulously for a minute. “Are you serious?” you finally asked, stalking forward a few steps. You wanted to be mad, wanted to shove two fingers into his chest, but you were close now. Close enough to catch spearmint gum and cedar, fresh laundry and boy. Close enough to catch his eyes all burnt caramel and warm honey and it was infuriating how your heart fluttered in your chest, like hummingbird trapped in a cage.

“Wha–yes?” he gave you a shitty look then loosed a sigh, “This is so stupid.” Pinching the bridge of his nose he shook his head and tried again, “Look, I don’t want be here, so the faster you show me how to put these dumb books away the faster I can leave.”

“Why is it always about you?” you felt heat rising in your chest, cheeks growing pink despite the air conditioner rumbling above you. Taking another step closer to him, your brows knitted together in anger, “What’s your problem?”

“My problem? You’re the one getting all bent out shape, princess,” the way he talked down to you was so casual, so practiced, and you snapped.

“Don’t call me that.”

It was Steve’s turn to take a step toward you. The toes of your shoes nearly touching.

“Oops, did I hit a nerve? Princess?”

“Okay. You can figure this shit out on your own,” your face burned as you dumped the books you'd been holding on the cart and stalked away, leaving Steve to stand stupidly between the shelves. You needed air, even if it was too hot and the Smack! your hands made on the cool metal push bar as you went out the side door was deafening against the quiet of the library.

“Hold up! Wait!”

Now he was following you? Did the boy have a death wish?

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t an invitation,” you snapped, rounding on him, hair wild and caught up in the thick, sticky summer air.

“I have to be here,” he flung his hands out at you, exasperated, the look on his face expectant, willing you to connect dots you didn’t know were there.

“To do what? Torture me?”

“God dammit,” Steve loosed a sigh, jamming his tongue into his cheek, as if talking to you was like pulling teeth.

“Why did you come out here–”

“I have to do this. The library. Community service. For…shit...that I did.”

Your anger flickered, dampened a bit, and your expression softened as you considered what he’d just said. Community service? What could Golden Boy have possibly done to get landed with community service?

“Can we please go back inside?” Steve practically begged, throwing a hand toward the door as tiny beads of sweat gathered along his forehead.

“You’re the one that followed me,” but you didn’t fight him on it and instead shouldered past him as he held the door open into the air conditioned building.

Steve grumbled something under his breath as he followed after you and you had half a mind to dig into him, but then he took your hand and everything went blank.

Something between you crackled, like fireworks on a hot July night, and your stomach flipped over. He pulled you past the bank of windows to a smaller, more private corner in the sci-fi section and when he let go of your hand your chest ached.

Clearing your throat you crossed your arms, tucking your hands away from him, and fixed him with a scowl trying your best to look peeved, “Spill.”

For a split second doubt flashed in his eyes, a chink in his armor exposed, but it was dashed away when he opened his mouth, “I tried to steal a car. Sheriff’s car. So, you know, not a great look.”

Your face did something funny to not give yourself away, all scrunched up in a muddled mixture of shock, amusement, and confusion, but Hawkins was small. Too small for more than one sheriff and the only sheriff you knew was Hop. As in Joyce and Hop. As in your aunt’s husband and a memory surfaced then of one of the first things to happen after you arrived.

Hop had been so angry and he’d moved so fast out the door he spilled his beer all over the living room carpet. You’d watched through the curtains as two boys ran from his rig for dear life into the trees behind the house, but one unlucky bastard got tackled there on the front lawn. Hop practically shoveled dirt into his mouth. It wasn’t the best angle so you couldn’t tell it'd been Steve, but he’d been tossed like a rag doll into the back of Hop’s Blazer and taken down to the station without a minute to spare.

“That was stupid,” maybe it was harsh, but it got a small grin from Steve and your stomach flipped over again.

“Yeah. Fifteen-hours-a-week-til-the-end-of-summer-stupid,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, but he kept his eyes on yours and for a minute you thought maybe you didn’t hate him.

“There you are! Is everything okay?” Joyce startled both of you as she appeared out of nowhere, apparently a skill of hers.

“Yep! So great, I was just, you know uh–”

“–showing me the different sections!” Steve finished for you and you shot him a look of thanks or surprise or maybe both.

“Wonderful, well there’s someone wanting to open a new account and I thought it’d be good for you both to see,” her expression shifted slightly as she looked between the two of you, like she knew something you didn’t, but before you could say anything she was walking back to the front of the library. “Tacos okay for dinner?” she called over her shoulder as both you and Steve hurried to catch up, “Your cousins’ favorite.”

And Steve stopped right there in the middle of the aisle, mouth dropped open in a little ‘o’ as he looked at you. “Joyce is your aunt?” he hissed.

Cheeks flushed bright pink it was your turn in the hot seat and you didn’t say anything. Instead, you half-jogged after your aunt, leaving Steve behind with the books to put the pieces together.

SOMETHING INFINITE SYNOPSIS: hawkins, indiana, 1987 – your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington. ♥️ find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #steve harrington x gn!reader

102 notes · View notes

randomfoggytiger · 6 months

Text

"We'll Think of Something"

(Fictober, Day 15)

*****

“We’ll think of something.”

How many times had Scully heard Mulder utter those words, and how many times had he counted them as a clean victory after both of them had narrowly squeaked by death yet again.

The truth-- the ever elusive one Mulder ran away from rather than towards-- was that he was absolutely retched at changing plans. If Fox Mulder Plan A fell to pieces, he and she drifted in the wind until their metaphorical sails were snagged, usually accidentally, on the next creepy crawly or escape hidey hole they tumbled into; and regrouping usually fell to her as naturally as a knack for getting into trouble fell to him. Then he followed along for five steps, pivoted wildly left, and ran off into some thicket, tumbling into other dangers.

Somewhere in-between adventures in prehistoric bug-infested woods, drug-happy Texan RV towns, and Bermuda Triangle ghost ships, Scully decided some ground rules needed to be set.

Of course, you couldn’t pitch it that way to Mulder-- he’d sense intent coming a mile away; then he’d hover and ask a ton of pesky, invasive questions: Is everything okay, Scully? and Did something happen last time? and Miss me that badly, partner? And that was the last thing she wanted. (Well, not the last thing. At least he’d take half a second to ask about her experiences without something dire like death looming over their heads.)

But the thing that really got her goat, raised her hackles, drew her ire was that renowned Spooky Golden Boy Fox Mulder-- who knew better-- had called her in to work on a Saturday, made her do all the heavy lifting, gave her heavy lifting a cursory two seconds of attention between his box scores and her ice cream, and took off to chase another lead.

Without me. Fine. Whatever.

Scully spent the rest of the day cleaning up spilled ice cream, lugging books back to their original location, and mumbling to herself to, in, and from the ice-cream shop for a second cone.

Then she sat in the park, determined to stew and not to look at her phone.

Then she got up and went home, wondering if there was a message on her answering machine.

Then she fell asleep by the phone, waiting, hoping for a call.

The room was dark, quiet, peaceful; and Scully felt it must have been so for some time because that tranquility was sharply broken by a sudden, electrifying holler from her answering machine-- “THIS IS FOX MANTLE CALLING--”

She bolted upright, disoriented (and vaguely aware there was a drool mark on the couch arm) while her prodigal partner continued to ramble a mile an hour to the drumbeat of his fast, giant-like stomps (and covering a lot of ground, if the quickly changing background noises were to be believed.)

An invitation… to a ballpark. For her very early or very late birthday.

And if she was not mistaken, he’d dragged a kid out there with him at who knows what hour for who knows what reason at who knows what price (likely very little, knowing him and his stingy pocketbook.)

Scully sighed, smiled, decided not to look at the clock as she gathered her shoes and headed out to see what all the fuss was about.

As she reached the door, it dawned on her that the Mulder Punishment had been quite easily set aside for another day. Scully shrugged, grabbed the doorknob, and muttered, “I’ll think of something.”

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

#Fictober #2023 #Day 15 #mine #“We'll Think of Something”#The Unnatural #Scully's ruminations on Mulder and his less-than plans

25 notes · View notes

cutekoala1001 · 3 months

Note

What is your favorite head canon for all characters in sing?

Favourite head canon for ALL the characters?? Well, if you’re interested, I do have lots of hcs! These are just some of mine (so it’s ok if you disagree!) :

Buster - He’s physically small, but as someone in charge, he prefers to be seen as bigger. So he stands on the moon prop or stands on objects to be closer to others’ eye level, or even to have them look up at him.

Eddie - I suspect that Nana isn’t the only diva in his family. And his father either runs some sort of successful business or is in show business himself. His father is never around.

Meena - She comes from a very supportive, and very religious, family.

Ash - Doesn’t have a good relationship with her parents; comes from a rough upbringing. Moved out and in with Lance as soon as she could.

Rosita - Has a “live, love, laugh” sign somewhere in her home. Family is everything. Thanksgivings are nuts.

Gunter - has ADHD and is quite a talented creative.

Mike - did not survive the bears 💀

Johnny - Was popular with the girls at school, but hesitated to date anyone seriously. Or maybe he had a serious gf once but because of heartbreak (and family gang stuff) he needed time before getting into another serious relationship.

Alfonso - is interested in “Eastern philosophies” (he’s wearing those beaded bracelets) and is probably into meditation.

Porsha - Mother left when she was young and her rich father spoiled her in place of being there for her. She’s been given anything she wants in place of the attention from her busy father, but her father’s attention is all she ever really wanted. A daddy’s girl and will probably find a sugar daddy to support her.

Klaus - I’m 100% with @picapicamagpie ‘s hc on his history and upbringing! She explains it very well in her fic.

Clay - He went on to do solo tours and reunite with old friends in the industry. He’s healing and moving on from his past.

Nooshy - Also from a rough upbringing. Was homeless at one point.

Miss Crawly - She has been with Moon Theatre longer than anyone else in Sing. She has seen a lot. She has also forgotten a lot.

Nana - Buster’s business partner and, I would assume, oversees the financial aspects of Moon Theatre seeing as it was through her fortune that it was revived. Has had a dynamic life in showbiz. Divorced. Has a lifetime of working hard to acquire fame and fortune. Past experiences have left her bitter and resentful; it’s difficult to trust others; she isolates in her retirement; lives in the past when she was in her prime; is self-absorbed; and has high standards for others and herself. But underneath it all she actually does want to help and give back to the world.

☆ I hope we’ll get a glimpse of a little more into the character’s pasts in the 3rd movie!

#sing movie #sing 2 #sing headcanons

42 notes · View notes

samwinchesterpregnant · 1 year

Text

this is just a little unfinished something (i’m not going to post it anywhere else until i edit it it’s literally a notes app fic so i’m sorry for everything)

sam is jealous of dean’s small-town girlfriend while dad goes off to hunt a ghost in missouri. he resorts to bad behavior to remedy this.

sam is a teenager but it’s sfw

they’re in pike county in the dead, dry peak of summer and there’s nothing but corn fields, fire flies, and casey’s gas stations as far as the eye can see.

but dean’s found something to do, he always does. some pretty little thing who’s dad worked at the button factory in pearl and left her alone all day to find her own fun.

looking at her makes sam want to spit. she’s got this farmer’s daughter thing going on, with long, sun-streaked hair down her back and freckles all over her nose and her shoulders. she shows dean around town, they make out at an abandoned house the neighborhood kids are scared of and she takes him to a dusty old lake where al capone supposedly dumped his mistresses aborted babies— or something nasty like that. sam tags along, because of course he does.

dad is checking out a haunting just across state lines in missouri making some old lady’s walls bleed. he told them to stay put and lay low. sam’s days stretch on; long and endless and tepid. there’s nothing better to do besides trail behind dean like a lost puppy and shoot bethany or becca or becky or whatever her name is rude glances over dean’s shoulder when his head is turned.

he just doesn’t like her. if she weren’t hanging around so much, sam reasons, everything would suck marginally less. they would still be in butt-fuck midwest nowhere, but at least they’d be able to do whatever they wanted instead of whatever she wanted. and dean wouldn’t be tripping over himself like an idiot trying to look cool to impress her.

in any case, sam took no measures to disguise his disapproval, because becca or brinley or brianna seemed to have reached much the same conclusion.

she bristled visibly when sam answered the door to the creaky, old, half furnished-by-a-dead-lady house they were renting for dirt cheap in pittsfield. sam had overheard, in muffled protests, her suggestion that sam not join them on their trip to the movies that evening:

“wouldnt it be nice, yknow, to just go somewhere just us? get some privacy? i mean—“

“i don’t see what the big deal is. sammy likes ghostbusters, he won’t talk through it or anything.”

“dean, i just think—“

and then, there was the way she sometimes (sam swore) really truly startled when sam entered her line of vision. as if he was a snake in the yard hiding under a garden hose, one you couldn’t see until you were way too close. like he was a creepy crawly scaly sort of thing.

and it was true that this summer he had been feeling more like a creepy, crawly, scaly sort of thing than anything else. oftentimes, laying out in the grass in the flat midwestern heat, he felt like something was shifting beneath his skin, lurking like a latent disease— a gene gone wrong that just needed a flip to switch and activate something nightmarish inside him.

his outer appearance revealed none of this. he was, maybe, more comely than he’d ever been. freshly grown out of his puppy fat; legs impossibly long and lean, the bones in his face suddenly coy and cervine, skin golden and eyelashes sooty and downturned like a calf. it was almost as if these two developments went hand in hand. this latent urge— this dark feeling under his skin, and his sudden metamorphosis into something desirable. he surmised that maybe a missed tick bite had given him lyme disease. or maybe it was prions from curiously prodding roadkill on the lucky occasion. either way, sam winchester felt positively terminal.

regardless of all that (ticks and prions and snakes and bethany/breanne/brenda or whatever), what it really was about was dean, dean, dean.

sam was out of school for the summer, dad hadn’t taken dean with him to missouri, and so, thusly, naturally, it was time for dean to shine upon his brother with the unwavering and uninterrupted attention he was fully capable of giving.

this had been the way, ever since they were children. their summers were famous.

last summer, somewhere in nebraska, they’d stayed for two weeks in an abandoned house sam had broken into with a pair of pliers. dad had gone to find a werewolf in the neighboring county, and the boys, tired of the stuffy motel, had made their own vacation with a mattress pad and a flashlight and the hole in the ceiling on the top floor where they could see the stars. they’d found an old calendar from 1946, and some weird canning jars in the basement that looked like a science experiment.

it was still fun even when dean stepped on a rusty nail and sam had to pull it out (with the same pliers) and swore that if dean died of tetanus, he’d take himself out, too. unfortunately, it hadn’t come to that.

summer was supposed to be their time together. not dean and brittany and their third-wheel. sam latently wished they were sewn together.

to remedy this, sam made preparations.

the next time they were at breanna’s dull little rambler in griggsville, sam snuck off into the bathroom (which smelled vaguely of jasmine, cat piss, and mildew) and rifled through the drawers until he found a lavender conair brand hairbrush with a jelly handle covered in fine blonde strands. surreptitiously, he tugged a clump free from the bristles and shoved it into his pocket.

he returned to the living room where ghostface flickered on the television that sat on the tan carpet, feeling sort of smug. it wasn’t a difficult task, but he’d gotten what he needed.

smiling wryly in the way he knew revealed the dimples on his cheeks, he climbed back onto the couch and slung his bare legs over dean’s lap, socked-feet kicking in brenda’s direction. she shifted away with a frown as dean slung his arm around sam’s shoulders, his other hand coming up to rest on his bruised knees, drumming his fingers there.

bethany sat her chin in her palm, seeming to be withholding a look of mild disgust. sam beamed.

later that night, the hair went into a jar with:

a handful of graveyard dirt

a rancid lemon

shards of glass

a rusty nail

a few drops of blood

sam pissed in it and buried it in the backyard which should, allegedly, solve the problem.

#samdean #wincest

28 notes · View notes

myfairstarlight · 6 months

Text

Tearful Angel Scars

AO3 Link.

Rated: G

Length: 1.2k

Canon compliant: Missing scene / Hurt/Comfort / Post-Scene: s2e2 Job minisode.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

He doesn’t recognise the sounds at first, so foreign coming from a celestial being made of love and everything good She has ever created. After all, Crawly had witnessed the holiest of angels have their wings turn to a dusty grey at the smallest hints of doubts or anger in their souls before they were cast down into the sulphur pits of Hell.

But Aziraphale is crying and the angel doesn’t even seem to realise himself.

“Angel, you’re crying,” Crawly states, perhaps a bit dumbly, because he does not move from his spot and watches from a safe distance instead as the angel startles, idle hands immediately reaching for his cheeks.

Aziraphale chuckles wetly, half-heartedly wiping away the tears with the back of his hands. “I apologise, they just don’t seem to want to stop now. I’ve been so good at holding them back before…”

Crawly frowns at the statement. “Should I…?”

“Not to worry, it will stop eventually. Let us just enjoy the sunset.”

Several moments pass. The tears still refuse to stop pouring and Crawly can feel his corporation itch to move slightly closer.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale laments, promptly hiding his face again and radiating such confusion and fear that even Crawly’s demonic soul shudders at the stench the feelings exhume into the air. “I'm fine.”

“You're lying, angel.”

“Well, I can get better at it the more I do it, then,” the angel huffs, trying his best to look pompous but failing miserably.

Crawly groans — it is only for the facade because inside, he can feel his soul break at the sight before him. Carefully, he stands up and lets his feet drag onto the sandy dirt as he walks towards the angel, leaving him all the time needed to distance himself if desired. Instead, Aziraphale stays put although he doesn’t even look up.

“Here,” the demon says as he kneels down and through a demonic miracle, a piece of dark cloth appears in his hand that he presents to the angel.

“I cannot—”

“Shut up, angel,” Crawly sighs and with his free hand, he gently grabs Aziraphale’s chin and starts wiping his tears with the cloth. The angel’s breath hitches and almost at once the tears finally stop pouring.

Silence envelops them once more. Aziraphale’s eyes are looking anywhere but at him. At the same time, Crawly feels quite grateful for the shades currently hiding his gaze for it cannot be taken away from the angel’s gentle star-shaped freckles spread across his cheeks and nose. Nebula dust still clings to his eyelashes and Crawly’s heart aches as a distant memory fights to resurface in clear images.

“You’ll be alright,” the demon says, breaking the silence when he’s wiped away the last tear, “crying doesn’t suit you.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Crawly just looks at him and their eyes meet in a first silent conversation of many more that will come over the thousands of years. And then, Aziraphale smiles and suddenly Crawly finds himself pulled into warm angelic arms.

The demon squawks, out of instinct. “You’re suffocating me—”

“Shut up, silly serpent.”

And so he does and breathes in the smell of sunshine and sea salt upon the angel’s skin as Crawley’s face finds shelter in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. To his own surprise, his body relaxes against the tension he hadn’t even realised he was fighting, and he melts right into his angel.

His angel. What an odd thought.

Ah. He needed the comfort too, he realises, as he breathes in and feels Aziraphale squeeze him ever so closer. Slowly, he brings his arms to hold Aziraphale back, fingers clinging to the soft fabric of his robe. A part of him feels like it is suddenly burning, but the gentle, warm and comforting kind of burn, like bathing in the midday sunlight and waking to the quiet sunset.

It almost makes him go back on his own words, that selfish part of him wanting to cling on and bring this angel with him to Hell so he can never stop feeling this warm and lo—

He snaps out of it at once, pulling back abruptly and upon the look of utter disappointment and hurt Aziraphale gives him, Crawly awkwardly coughs and pretends to be looking around while he urgently makes his way back to the other rock he was previously sitting on.

“You’ll be alright as well, dear,” Aziraphale says eventually and he sounds so sincere, Crawly almost believes it. “We’ll be alright. I hope.”

We. Crawly could not dare to even think about it. This angel… this naive, surprising, stupid but oh so lovely angel, who looks at him with no fear or disgust but utter trust and devotion. Who just went out of his way to disobey God directly, having full faith that Crawly wouldn’t have killed either goats or children instead.

The demon wonders how he could have ever doubted him, back during the Flood. The fussy angel who just sat back and obediently followed orders was so unworthy of, so unlike the angel who gave away his divine flaming sword so two humans could be comfortable. Perhaps something else must have happened back then that made Aziraphale so compliant, Crawly muses and now he feels slightly guilty for being so quick to judge.

(That was Her thing, to judge unfairly.)

“Now, how do I know if you’re not lying?” Crawley teases, or at least he hopes his tone doesn’t sound accusatory, and fortunately Aziraphale chuckles lightly.

“I guess you will have to trust me, as I do you.”

The demon almost smiles. “Trust you.” Demons don’t trust, it’s in their nature.

It turns out, just as Aziraphale isn’t a typical angel who shouldn’t be able to even be able to express sorrow or regret, Crawley isn’t a typical demon either.

Suddenly, a flock of crows fly over their heads. Both angel and demon look up, the latter wondering if he forgot to turn some of the goats back into, well, goats, when one of the crows seems to falter, wings failing it as it falls. Aziraphale gasps and, with no hesitation, leaps forward with his own wings sprouting out of his back so he can catch the poor animal. Then, gently, carefully, Aziraphale sits back down on their shared rock, soothing the poor creature.

“There there, dear, I will heal you, don’t worry.”

As he watches the angel’s delicate fingers caress the damaged feathers of the crow now happily curled up in his lap, Crawly ponders some more, eyes lost in the sight before him.

He’s been thinking of changing his name for a while. Crowley may have a nice ring to it, he decides and hides his smile behind his palm. Yes. He’ll tell the angel next time they cross paths, for now, he’s quite content just sitting in silence and admiring the glorious setting sun shining just behind the angel’s head, brighter than an actual halo.

Ah, quite a lovely sight. Crowley secretly hopes he will get to gaze at it for eternity. He does not voice the wish out loud, nor will he ever.

(Later, Crowley will rub his hands as he finds odd patterns all around them, lightening the skin yet emanating not even an ounce of pain. Scars born out of angel tears, he would guess and marvel at the flickers of gold etched into his skin. His colleagues will assume he confronted an angel who was brought to tears and won a glorious battle. He will not deny nor will he confirm. His toughest battles would be of another kind altogether, but involving the same angel anyhow and tears. Many, many tears.)

#good omens fanfic #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #my fics

9 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 1 year

Note

I know this is probably very run-of-the-mill ask but can you think of any complete, angst-free, SFW Crowley-was-Raphael stories? Everything I can find with the tag recently is either E or Extremely depressing.

We have loads of fics on our #crowley was raphael tag, so do check that out. When searching on ao3 you can also filter things out, so here is a search for you that includes the 'crowley was raphael' tag while excluding the 'angst' tag and any fic rated explicit. Here are a few that appeared in the results...

This Don’t Even Feel Like Fallin’ by GravityFallsGirl13 (T)

Crowley, now calm, scoffed. "Of course, Angel. Of bloody course, that's the reason why I called you. Remembering that day, it made me feel as terrified as I was back when it happened."

Crowley fell a long time ago, but not in the way you think.

The Evolution of Crowley by Cashmire (G)

Before Crowley was Crowley, or even Crawly, he was the archangel Raphael. He created the stars and eventually fell for asking too many questions

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves by DonttellNightwing (G)

Before the fall, Crowley and Aziraphale knew each other. Though, Crowley went by another name.

A Matter of Identity by Luinlothana (G)

There was no denying that the utter failure of the apocalypse left the archangels facing many questions. One of them being: Didn’t that red-headed demon look oddly familiar?

After the failed apocalypse Gabriel realises that one of the archangels has been missing for a while and decides to get to the bottom of this. Meanwhile Aziraphale and Crowley are just trying to enjoy their lives now that they are finally free to do so.

the archangel raphael by ImJustPassingThrough (T)

Crowley helped build Alpha Centauri, but who was the other angel who helped? I mean, it is an odd phrasing, 'I helped build that one', isn't it?

Secrets by NebulaEyes (T)

After their conversation on the wall of Eden, Aziraphale remarks on how strange Crawley is. Then, the demon surprises him by taking a lightning bolt for him. After healing him, and after four days of the demon being asleep, he waits patiently for the demon to wake up, but when he does, the eyes aren't that of a demon, but of Raphael. Then, after being confronted by Gabriel, and after Raphael sent him away, Raphael fell asleep, and woke up to be Crawley once more. The problem is...Crawley doesn't remember changing from himself to Raphael, but Raphael and Aziraphale remember. How will they protect this? Why did it happen? Why are Raphael and Crowley's memories out of sync? Who caused it to happen? What will Aziraphale learn about both Crowley and Raphael? What happens when Crowley finally knows about Raphael? Read and find out! :)

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley was raphael #mod d

64 notes · View notes

depressedbagpipe · 2 years

Text

The Freak and the Jedi (Eddie Munson x female!Henderson!reader)

Chapter seven: The Massacre of Hawkins Lab

Words: 4393 Warnings: foul language, mentions of blood and Steve's injuries, very brief allusion to periods, parental abandonment and neglect, canon-typical violence, mentions of guns, poor writing on my side. reader has cold hands. if i missed anything else, please let me know :) A/N: GUYS I'M SO SORRY, this took forever to write. I've been having some problems in my life so yeah, thank you for waiting! also, i completely made up dustin and reader's lack of a paternal figure, as it's never explicitly mentioned on the show (that i know of, maybe i missed something) to explain reader's protectiveness Taglist: @authorlovers, @angiewhoohooo, @thatsamegirl, @lizzy-95, @elleeeee21, @tanyaherondale, @le-who-zer-her, @toobsessedsstuff, @vingtetunmars

Series masterlist Previous chapter <;> Next chapter

Chapter seven: The Massacre of Hawkins Lab

The five of us had found refuge at Skull Rock, crouching beneath the huge rock formation hoping the demon bats would soon leave. We had run to the woods after saving Steve, who still bled profusely out of the injuries caused by the creatures. Robin’s hand firmly grasped mine, both of us shaking in fear at the sight. With no weapons to defend us with, there was no way we could ever outrun them.

When the flock of bats had left, Robin took a couple more deep breaths, coming out slowly off the rock to check they were gone.

“Oh… okay, that was close,” she said, dusting herself as she stood straighter, her gaze still fixed upwards among the trees.

“Yeah, too close,” Eddie was out of breath, still under the rock.

Steve stumbled forward, barely keeping himself up on the nearest rock. “Oh… shit.”

We all looked at him, remembering his wounds. “Steve?” Nancy called him, her eyes widening at the sight. “Jesus,” she ran to him, helping him up.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tried to reassure us, but Nancy was already panicking.

“No, no, no. You’re not. You’re losing blood. Come on, sit. All right?” she guided him to the floor as Robin, Eddie, and I stared, not knowing what to do next.

Thankfully, Nancy had everything under control. She started cutting pieces of her shirt off to bandage him, while Robin crouched in front of him.

“Okay. So the good news is, I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a common symptom of rabies, but if you start having hallucinations or muscle spams or you start feeling aggressive, like you wanna punch me, or something, you should totally let me know,” she rambled.

“Robin,” Steve called her.

“Yeah?”

“I kinda wanna punch you.”

Robin laughed. “Sense of humor’s still intact. That’s a good sign,” she smiled, although her hands were still trembling.

She got up and walked to me when Nancy started patching Steve up. As soon as I heard his groans I turned around, the situation making my stomach turn. “I hate blood,” I said with my hand pinching my nose, trying to block the smell.

Robin frowned next to me. “You see blood every month.”

Eddie coughed violently from my other side, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes met anything but me.

“That’s different,” but I didn’t have time to continue, for Nancy was already finishing patching up Steve behind us.

Eddie was now climbing up one of the rocks. “So, uh… this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Pretty much,” I answered, helping Steve up alongside Nancy.

“Wait, watch out for the vines,” Nancy called to Eddie before he could step on one. “It’s all a hive mind.”

“It’s all a what?” Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw the vines moving slowly around the rock.

“All the creepy crawlies around here, dude, they’re like, one or something,” Steve explained. “You step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.”

Eddie nodded his head. “Shit.”

He proceeded to walk down carefully, guided by my directions to help him down without stepping on anything.

“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except for people, obviously?” Robin asked too.

“As far as I understand it, yeah,” I answered her question once Eddie was safely by my side again.

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate,” Robin concluded.

“Yeah, I highly doubt that the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin, but guns, yeah, sure,” Steve said, clutching his side.

“Don’t forget flamethrowers,” I added. “Fire seems to be the public enemy number one around here.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns,” Nancy suddenly called. “I have guns in my bedroom,” we all stared at her dumbfounded.

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?” Eddie voiced everyone’s thoughts.

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin said nervously. I would’ve laughed at her remark were it not for the situation we were all in.

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver,” she said to us.

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one,” Steve came closer to her.

“You almost deserved it,” Nancy smiled at him.

Nobody failed to notice their little flirting going on. Despite Robin’s smirk at them, I frowned deeply, seemingly the only person worried about Jonathan.

Eddie, in a quick motion, took off his vest and threw it to Steve, a hard expression on his face.

“For your modesty, dude.”

Nobody said anything else, for a quick unexpected rumble threw all of us to the ground. I fell on top of Eddie, whose arm quickly snacked around my waist to keep me in place on the ground as we all stood unmoving, too frozen in fear to do anything else rather than wait until it passed. Creatures snarled not far from where we stood.

“Yeah, so guns seem like a pretty good idea to me,” Eddie said from behind me.

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed, getting up and pulling Eddie up with me, still looking around for any bat that may come our way.

Steve put on Eddie’s vest with some difficulty. “So, what are we waiting for?” He took his flashlight and led us away into the unknown of the Hawkins woods.

“How you holding up?” I asked Eddie.

His hair was still damp, his curls framing his face unceremoniously.

“I’ve been better,” he shrugged his shoulders. His back was tense, almost forcing himself to walk forwards, looking around with a vague look. I had walked like that once.

I grinned slightly, knowing he was trying to put up a strong front, but failing.

“It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared all the time,” I confessed, looking straight ahead at Nancy and Steve.

“Then you’re really good at hiding it,” he exhaled with a low chuckle.

“Yeah, well, this isn’t my first rodeo,” I shrugged.

A comfortable silence fell over us, but my brain kept craving Eddie by my side, his voice, his presence.

“I saw you talking to Steve,” I offered.

He smiled. “He’s a good dude,” he said.

“I know.”

Eddie coughed. “So, uh, have you guys… you know… dated or..?”

I groaned. “Oh god, not again. I’m not interested in Steve. Never have been, never will be, thank you very much,” I said, not looking at Eddie.

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I don’t know. I’ve seen you guys together a lot so I thought… either you, or Robin, or…”

I laughed. “No, not Robin either. We’re all friends. Guys can be friends with girls, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I don’t have many girl friends,” Eddie said.

“You have me,” I replied after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah… friends…”

Another silence fell upon us, only this time it was tense, charged with meaning.

“I don’t know how many times I’ll have to apologize for bringing you into this mess,” I said.

“Hold up, I brought myself into this mess. You just happened to be there already,” he said, adjusting his black leather jacket as he almost tripped over a vine, his hands flailing around slightly as he fought to regain his balance.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” I agreed. “Still, it’s really unfair it had to be you.”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed. “Eddie, you’ve been through so much. This was never supposed to happen to you. You were going to be a rockstar. Go to New York. Play the biggest stadiums around the world.”

“Who’s to say that can’t happen now, princess?” Eddie lifted an eyebrow, but his eyes were screaming in concern.

“Eds, I’m being serious,” I frowned at him, trying to get him to meet my eyes.

Eddie smiled softly, looking back down to the floor. “I missed it.”

His voice was soft, whispering. Uncertain.

“What?” I asked confused at the sudden change of topic.

“You calling me Eds. I actually missed you. Like, a lot. Period,” he wasn’t looking at me, his eyes too preoccupied with missing the vines that moved slowly around our feet.

I smiled, nostalgia tightening its grip on my lips. “I missed you too.”

“You know,” Eddie started once again. “I beat myself up for so long, thinking about what I did wrong. And the answer was always the same: no idea,” he scratched the back of his head, awkwardly. “But now… I feel like… it all makes sense.”

“Does it, really?” I asked him, fixing my eyes on him.

Nancy, Robin, and Steve kept walking ahead of us, seemingly engrossed in their own conversations, but still, our voices were low, barely whispers. This was only meant for us to hear.

“Yeah. What you told me at the shed, about protecting your family… I mean, even if I’ve seen what Vecna can do with my own eyes, all this… Upside Down thing? It’s enough to drive someone mad,” he pointed briefly to our friends walking at the front. “Hell, I’m even glad you’ve got them to look after each other.”

There was longing in his eyes.

“Eddie, you’re one of us, too. Don’t forget that,” I placed my hand on his arm, comfortingly, squeezing it tightly before letting go, the warmth on my cheeks too hot to handle.

“I guess I’m not used to having people,” he admitted.

My heart ached for him, but I also knew what he referred to.

“I know how you feel,” I said. Eddie’s head shot up, meeting my eyes.

“What do you mean?” his questioning gaze was fixed on me.

I sighed. “I never told you this while we dated, but uh… our father… he, uh… straight up left,” I took a deep breath.

“What?” it was now his turn to grab my arm, only he stopped walking.

I stood before him, pulling the side of my pant out of nerves. “Yeah… he kept having all these fights with our mom. He wasn’t home that much, either working or having affairs with younger women at his job. He was barely around, and when he was he wouldn’t stop drinking. He, uh… never got violent with us, but I feared it’d only be a matter of time. Every night I’d sneak into Dustin’s room and play music with him and keep him entertained, just so he wouldn’t listen. We never talked about it, and I’m positive he knew what was going on but, yeah… And, one day, he just… disappeared. Left a note, said he was leaving town, took the money, and ran. My mom was a complete mess… And she too just… I don’t know. She was present and loved us to death, but the impact his absence had on her was too much. So I stepped up and took care of them both. Got a job, took extra shifts, made sure Dustin got to school, did most of the chores… Even got my mom a cat, well, two,” I grimaced at the thought of Mews. “And then, Will disappeared and the world went to shit,” I concluded.

Eddie didn’t say anything for a few minutes. We had both resumed our walking after a low shout from Nancy to hurry up, but we both ignored her.

All of a sudden, Eddie dragged me into his arms, fully embracing my body in his, and squeezed me tighter.

“I’m so, sorry, princess,” his words came muffled, for his mouth was resting directly on my hair. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

My lip trembled slightly, although I forced my tears not to fall in front of him. “I don’t know. I guess I was… embarrassed? And I already told you, you had your stuff too, with your dad and your uncle. It didn’t seem fair to put that burden on you, Eddie. You always came to me when you needed comfort and I’m sorry I took that away from you, but I could barely keep it together anymore after everything that had happened,” I said, feeling a hot tear fall down my cheek.

Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel you could come to me when you needed to,” his voice was yet again a whisper.

One of his hands gripped the back of my head, keeping me close to him. The sudden comfort left me craving for more, missing how his body felt around mine.

We pulled away after a couple of minutes, enjoying the silence, enjoying our time together despite the strange world around us, with every nightmarish danger looming in the air.

“Does Dustin know? Everything you’ve done for them?” Eddie asked me as he brushed the tear off my cheek.

I shook my head. “No. I never told him,” I said, once more walking towards Nancy’s house.

The rest of the party walked even farther away, but none of them bothered to look back at us. I had a feeling they all knew what was going on.

“You should. The kid loves you to death. He deserves to know,” Eddie took my hand in his, keeping me close as we sped our walking.

Our fingers intertwined, the blush more prominent than ever on my face. The warmth of his hand contrasted with my cold one, sending chills up my arm at the sudden temperature change. But the feeling was indescribable. It felt right. It felt like home.

I shook my head again. “He deserves to be a kid, too.”

The ground kept trembling around us, sending us to the ground over and over again. Thankfully for us, Nancy’s house wasn’t far, and it only took us a couple of minutes to get there.

Nancy opened the door slowly, the five of us walking inside as we looked around. Vines crawled everywhere, particles flying all around as we took several glances at the interior, checking we were alone.

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler,” Robin sarcastically said as she took in her surroundings.

“Come on, I don’t wanna stay here longer than we have to,” Nancy called after us, walking up the stairs to her room.

Despite having spent so much time at the Wheelers’, the place was giving me chills, with everything so familiar yet so different.

Nancy opened her closet and retrieved a small box, walking to her desk decisively. Robin, Eddie, and I simply followed after her, curious to see what she had in store. But when she opened the lid, we were met with Nancy’s old white heels she had used at our Homecoming dance.

“Those aren’t guns,” Eddie was altered as he stared in horror at the box.

“These heels are a bit pointy, but I was hoping for something along the lines of a deadly projectile,” Robin added, while Nancy shook the box around, staring at it in disbelief.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Maybe you left them somewhere else,” Eddie argued, trying to comfort himself, especially.

“There’s a six-year-old in the house. I know where I keep my guns,” Nancy’s stare was deadly.

“Alright, alright, let’s calm down, there’s gotta be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this,” I said, standing between them. Tension was rising, and we couldn’t afford inner fights.

“And also, I threw these away years ago,” Nancy added in a smaller voice.

I frowned. “Wait, I remember that, you asked me if I wanted them and I said no,” I looked at her, remembering our conversation.

Nancy kept looking around her desk, her eyes widening as she noticed the books and papers in front of her. She grabbed the written cards, her fingers expertly shuffling them. I recognized her handwriting, and the many cards she wrote for our sophomore Chemistry class.

“Aren’t we seniors now?” I asked, knowing Nancy was thinking the same thing I was.

“I get that grades are important to you, but perhaps studying can wait till we get out of here?” Robin said to us.

“These are from sophomore Chemistry,” Nancy answered. I nodded at her. “And this… this wallpaper, this is old wallpaper,” she said as she walked around, pointing to different things that no longer existed within Nancy’s bedroom. “And this mirror, this went to a yard sale. And you,” she picked a doll by the foot of her bed. “You’re not supposed to be here. No, I gave you to cousin Joanna two years ago,” she put it down again, walking to her bedside table and grabbing her old pink diary. She quickly opened it, turning the pages rapidly until she got to the last written one. She shook her head in disbelief once more.

“What is it?” Eddie asked, clearly lost.

“Well, shit,” I said, connecting the dots.

“Guys? You’re freaking me out,” Robin too called after us.

“I think… the reason that my guns aren’t here… is because they don’t exist yet,” Nancy answered.

Eddie kept on asking. “They don’t… exist?”

“This diary should be full of entries,” Nancy turned to us, holding the diary for us to see. “It’s not. The last entry is November 6th, 1983,” Nancy looked at me.

I widened my eyes. “The day Will went missing.”

“The day the gate opened,” Nancy confirmed. “We’re in the past.”

I shook my head. “Right, that isn’t a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

Steve’s voice suddenly yelled from below. “Dustin? Dustin!”

With a start I ran down the stairs, finding Steve yelling in the middle of the kitchen, walking in circles, yelling for my brother. We all stared at him confusedly.

“Maybe he really does have rabies,” Robin whispered, eliciting a laugh out of me.

“Hello! Hello?” Steve kept going, ignoring us.

“Steve, what are you doing?” I asked him.

He turned to us with a small jump, pointing his flashlight at us with a wide expression.

“He’s here. Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like… he’s in the walls or something. Just listen,” he explained, walking away again calling for him.

“Definitely rabies,” I whispered back to Robin after we were met with silence, beside Steve’s yells.

And like a miracle from above, Dustin’s voice was heard in the silence. The sound was faint, distant, and static. We all immediately trailed after Steve, walking and screaming his name around the house as we tried to reach him, but nothing indicated he heard us at all.

“All right, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag,” Steve declared, breathing heavily.

“Will found a way,” Nancy said.

“What?”

“Will. He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights,” her voice was loud, walking around to turn on the nearest lamp, yet no electrical current seemed to power the house.

“Lights?”

“Yeah.”

“The switch, try the switch,” Steve informed Nancy, but darkness still enveloped us.

Steve looked around with his flashlight, his movement halting when the beam of light fell on the chandelier above the dining table, the bulbs lighting up faintly.

“Guys? You seeing this?”

I walked closer to the chandelier, seeing how the object ethereally lit up under the beam; Dustin’s voice, although still faint, sounded much closer. The dark particles around the bulbs were shining golden, casting a powerful aura around them, a ray of hope amid the chaos.

We soon were touching the air around the chandelier, warmth spreading through our fingers, as if touching a soft veil that surrounded the object. It tickled in all the right places.

“It kinda feels good,” said Robin, her hand still moving around.

I noticed the bulbs shone brighter when our hands touched the chandelier.

Nancy lowered her hand. “Does anyone know morse code?”

Robin and Steve’s answer was immediate. “No.”

I looked at her. “Only the basics.”

Eddie answered last. “Wait, does SOS count? Is that good?” he asked again when he saw all of us looking at him with hopeful glances.

“Go for it,” I said, leaving space for him to send the signal as many times as needed.

“I’m really counting on your brother not being an idiot,” said Steve as he watched Eddie move his hand around.

After a couple of minutes, Dustin’s voice sounded closer and stronger. His words were now clear.

“Hey, uh, remember when I said they wouldn’t be stupid enough to go through Watergate? I overestimated them.”

It was thanks to Holly’s Lite-Brite toy that we managed to contact Dustin, Lucas, and Erika. It was also thanks to Dustin that we knew what we had to do next.

Eddie led us to his trailer, struggling to bike faster due to my added weight on Mike’s back.

“You sure this is safe?” Eddie had asked when he noticed I had slung my leg over the back seat.

“Yeah, I’ve seen Mike ride El around before,” I nodded my head encouragingly, motioning for him to get on the front as soon as possible.

“But they’re kids,” he argued, yet sat on the seat and maneuvered us off Nancy’s garage.

“Aren’t we all?” I breathlessly answered as I put my arms around his waist, pulling my feet off the floor and trying to keep my balance as Eddie started biking away.

Creatures kept screeching in the distance, but nobody bothered us as we approached Forest Hills Trailer Park.

“Right here,” Eddie called to the guys as we reached his trailer, leaving the bikes on the floor outside as we walked to the door.

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record. Most miles traveled inter-dimensionally,” Robin noted, sounding way too out of breath.

“Just inhaled a bunch of that crap,” Steve complained as he coughed violently. “It’s stuck in my throat.”

The inside of Eddie’s trailer was, too, filled with vines, but our attention was immediately drawn to the big awaiting gate on the ceiling, the familiar squelching sending shivers down my spine.

“This is where Chrissy died,” Eddie said in a quiet voice. “Like, right where she died.”

His expression was vacant, the horror of her death replaying in his mind. I put my hand on his shoulder, hoping I could somewhat comfort him, even though I too had seen that same horror with my own eyes.

“I think there’s something in there,” Robin said with a disgusted face, her eyes fixed on the red gate before her, and the pulsing fiber that covered the opening.

Something sharp and thin poked around the other side, the fiber extending downwards.

“What the hell is that?” Eddie asked as we all stared at it, the movement unfamiliar.

Whatever that was retreated, only to come back down forcefully again, breaking the gap completely. We all yelled and stumbled backward in surprise as what appeared to be a wooden stick made the opening bigger. The stick disappeared once again, and Steve, rather slowly, walked closer to the gate, his shoulders tense as he began to peak upwards at whatever had opened the gate completely.

“No way,” he said with a big smile, inviting us to follow him.

Dustin’s smiling face came into view, laughing and waving at us as if we had accidentally run into each other in the street, standing upside down on the other side of the gate.

“Bada, bada, boom!”

“Those stains are, uh…” Eddie tried to explain, but we were all already looking at him with disgusted glances. “I dunno what those stains are.”

“Mmm,” Robin nodded.

“Still gross,” I agreed.

We were all standing there watching the kids put Eddie’s mattress on the other side right below the gate and tying up his sheets to create some sort of ladder for us to go up–or down.

“Not quite sure how these physics are gonna work, but, uh… here goes nothing,” said Dustin before sending the sheets our way. They fell on our side while Dustin held tightly to the other end. “There we go. And if my theory is correct…” he let go of them, and they thankfully stayed in place, suspended in the middle of two different worlds as our only bridge. “Huh, abracadabra.”

“Holy shit,” Max exclaimed.

“All right, pull on it! See if it holds!” Dustin yelled to us.

Robin volunteered to pull, the sheets successfully staying in place as we cheered.

“This is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen some crazy shit,” Erika said as she too stared at the sheets with an awestruck face.

“Guess I’m the guinea pig,” Robin commented as she grabbed the sheets once more and started climbing up.

“Oh, shit, I was terrible at climbing the rope,” I groaned as I stared at her, seeing how she reached the entrance, only to fall rather gracelessly on the mattress on the other side on her back.

“Oh, thank god, that was fun,” said Robin with a small laugh, getting up and clearing the landing pad for me.

“Your turn, princess,” Eddie said as he hoisted me up without notice and helped me reach the top quickly.

My cheeks burned from the surprise, but I still held tightly onto the sheets and, with some effort, climbed through the gate and, too, fell gracelessly on the mattress.

“Ow,” I said as I looked up, but Dustin’s hands quickly helped me up to my feet, and his shorter arms were enveloping me in a rather desperate hug.

“Please, don’t ever do that again,” he said into my chest. “At least without me.”

“I promise,” I chuckled softly as my fingers lovingly scratched his curls.

Eddie soon followed after me, landing on the mattress with a big breathless smirk.

“That was fun,” he agreed with Robin.

I grinned at him as I offered him my hand to pull him up. Once again, Eddie was accidentally pressed against me, our chests touching and our cheeks flushed.

“Sorry, I, uh…”

“No, no, it was me, I…”

“Yeah, well, uh…”

“Right, uh…”

We mumbled our apologies, looking anywhere but at each other, and trying to ignore everybody’s eyes on us as we stood on opposite ends of the circle.

“Shut up,” I said to Robin when she opened her mouth before she could say anything.

But Steve’s screams brought us back to reality. Nancy stood frozen next to the ladder, completely unresponsive, while Steve shook her around. I shared a look with Eddie, knowing what was about to go down.

Next chapter

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #dustin henderson #steve harrington #eleven #eddie my beloved #stranger things #eddie munson fic #the freak and the jedi

53 notes · View notes

georgie-abhrams · 3 months

Text

biography / connections / headcanons / pinterest / statistics

ABOUT

Full Name: Georgia Mae Abhrams

Nickname: Georgie, GMA (In her sister’s phone, does a great Robin Roberts impression), Gigi

Age/DOB: March 3, 1992 (31)

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Gender: Cis Female

Place of Birth: Covington, GA

Neighborhood: Avonlea Terrace

Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Bisexual / Biromantic

Religion: Christian

Occupation: Personal Assistant

PERSONALITY

Goals/Desires: Above all else, Georgie's biggest desire is to be loved, to be wanted. It's all she's ever wanted since she was a child, love and affection. And her utmost desire is to have that piece of herself fulfilled. Outside of her never ending need for acceptance and love, however, she wants to make her family- specifically her siblings- proud of her. She wants to make her life worth something, prove she's worthy of the Abhrams name even if she's hated living in its shadow her entire life. She just wants to matter.

Fears: Dying alone, snakes, heights, forgetting to brush her teeth before leaving the house, never hearing the words "I'm proud of you" from another Abhrams

Hobbies: Going for long runs, cooking new recipes, sleeping until noon, redecorating the pool house on her parents' property she lives in, sending 'accidental' nudes to people she shouldn't, trying to find where she left her epipen, staring at the night sky and making up her own constellations with their own tragic backstories

Likes & Dislikes: high heels, sunlight, anything smothered in cheese, pickles, ice cream, sparkling wine, the sound of her niece's laughter, the warmth of a prolonged hug, smiling until her cheeks hurt, 'self care' days, spending the day in bed, cashmere sweaters, fuzzy socks, hydrangeas, surprise visits, hot showers, men in grey sweatpants // unbrushed hair, ill-fitting clothing, complete darkness, creepy crawly animals, shooting ranges, loneliness, feeling helpless, hot coffee, having to drive herself places, ebooks, mismatched patterns, being told what to do, the way the smell of fire stays in your clothes and hair, the fact that she'll never be a mermaid, chipped nail polish

QUICK FACTS (quick is subjective tho bc idk how to tldr anything and summarizing isn't really my strong suit)

Trigger Warnings: Missing Person & Child Abuse Mention

Born and raised in Covington, Georgia “Georgie” Abhrams is the youngest of the four Abhrams children and if she had to give herself a label- she’d say she’s the black sheep, the family disappointment

She was never her parents’ favorite, despite trying her hardest as a child to get their love and affection, Delilah and Benjamin already had their focus on their eldest children. Georgie did everything to try and make her parents proud, following in her eldest sister’s footsteps in learning the piano and attending cotillion. Ensuring she didn’t act out in public to affect their father’s political image, always looking her best. But it was all to no avail.

So when falling in line and doing everything she could to be the best Abhrams she could didn’t work, Georgie realized what did work was acting up and acting out - it started simple, throwing a fit in the store or making faces during public appearances - anything her young mind could do to get their parents attention. Because despite the fact that it was bad attention, at least they were acknowledging her existence.

As she grew older, Georgie grew more bold, more wild. She hung out with people too old for her adolescent self, got brought home by the cops a few times. It was during those times she’d garner her father’s coveted attention. Sure, it was pure anger- raised voices and hands- but at least he was acknowledging her. Georgie didn’t care what kind of attention she got from her parents, as long as they were speaking to her. At least then she could trick herself into believing they cared.

Despite everything, though, Georgie loved her family and was loyal to them to a fault. A loyalty that was put to the test when she was just 17 years old. She’d met and fallen in love, feeling wanted and appreciated for the first time in her life really lightened the wild blonde’s personality and things began to fall into place for her. Until, that is, her father found out. He normally wouldn’t have cared who his youngest daughter spent her time with, proven by his past indifference, but the boy the youngest Abhrams had fallen for was the son of the man who’d beat Benjamin for mayor and he made her choose. Her boyfriend or her family. An impossible choice, but one Georgie made without blinking, her loyalty shining through the cracks of her broken heart as she ended the relationship she’d come to treasure.

So she went back to her chaotic ways, doing whatever she could to heal her broken heart until she left Covington for college at 18 years old with no intention of ever looking back. If Covington didn’t want her then she’d find a way to make a name for herself elsewhere.

Georgie took to college like a fish to water- not academically, but socially, joining a sorority her first semester and finding people who didn’t tie her worth to her last name. Sure, a lot of her popularity came from the way she showered her friends with gifts, but Georgie finally had the love she’d craved her entire life. And then she met him.

It was only her second semester of freshman year when she’d gone to a rodeo with her sorority sisters and a flask full of tequila. She may have been halfway through the flask when their eyes locked, but she felt instant sparks. He was a bull rider, all danger and sex appeal, and Georgie was powerless against his charms. In usual Georgie fashion (acting on impulse), after a whirlwind courtship the youngest Abhrams left college before finishing her first year and took off on the rodeo circuit with her new beau.

It was everything she could have ever hoped for, the adventure, the romance, the sex. It was perfect, at least until his wife surprised him on the road one day and suddenly Georgie was forced to hide away for two days in another rider’s fifth wheel. When his wife finally left, Georgie was incensed. The fight that ensued was loud and aggressive, but at the end of it Georgie didn’t leave. When faced with the choice of going back to college, or worse, going back home, and staying with a man who’d only ever be able to keep her as his dirty little secret? Well, Georgie chose to stay. At least there she had the attention and adoration she’d sought out her entire life.

And stay she did. For a year and a half, until his wife forced him to make a choice. Their marriage or his mistress. And he chose his marriage, a choice that tore Georgie up more than she’d ever like to admit. And she ended up coming back home with her tail between her legs, moving back into her childhood home with the parents that continued to ignore her. Back to her life as the invisible Abhrams child at 21 years old.

For the next decade or so, Georgie floated through life just as she’d done her entire life. Despite being the only one of her siblings who came back home and stayed with their parents, she continued to be ignored by Delilah and Benjamin unless she was causing havoc that made their family look bad. She continued to hope that one day she’d be good (or bad) enough to garner her parents love and affection, but the older she grew the dimmer the hope was- even if it never fully went away

But then, another twist of fate brought her the attention and affection she’d always wished for from her father when she started dating a man nearly twice her age. Pierce Montgomery was made of old money and older political ties that Benjamin, upon hearing of the relationship, instantly felt he could exploit

Suddenly, the dad Georgie had always wanted was in her life. Interested in her relationship without trying to end it. Asking how she was, inviting her and Pierce to dinner with him and Delilah. She had everything she’d ever wanted and, despite knowing deep down that her father’s attention came full of strings and wouldn’t have happened without Pierce being in her life, Georgie reveled in it. Which was why she stayed in the relationship months longer than she should have. She couldn’t remember the charismatic politician everyone spoke of when they talked about her father, but suddenly there he was. Because of her. Because of a choice she made. And despite having her own job, she got behind her father and his decision to get back into politics.

But as quickly as Benjamin’s affections came, they were gone when her relationship with Pierce inevitably came to an end. And no matter how hard Georgie tried to stay in the loop, to be useful to her father and his rejuvenated political aspirations, she was once again cast to the shadows. So when Benjamin turned up missing, it was easy for Georgie to turn on the waterworks and pretend to be the worried, grieving daughter for the public. Just like her mother wanted her to be, but deep down? Georgie couldn’t help but to feel relieved. She may never have gotten to know her father, but now she didn’t have to worry about fighting for his attention and he was finally back in the spotlight like he’d always wanted.

#covingtonintro #intro.#about.#this is hella long and i'm sorry about it #but idk how to shut up???#child abuse tw #missing person tw #the ca is only mentioned/alluded to but adding it in anyways #sorry in advance about her and her chaos

4 notes · View notes