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valyrianblooded · 11 months

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We are pleased to announce the arrival of LADY RHAENYS of HOUSE VELARYON to King’s Landing! The TWENTY SEVEN year-old CIS WOMAN is whispered to be IMPULSIVE & MISCHEVIOUS but in reality they are VIVACIOUS & COQUIETTISH. They are also said to resemble { ALICIA AGNESON }. They are FOR a new treaty of peace and unity between House Targaryen and House Stark. Things, however, are not always quite what they seem, are they?

rhaenys is now a velaryon instead of a targaryen! changes will primarily be found in the backstory / head canons section!

BASICS.

name — rhaenys velaryon

nick names — rae ( primarily ), nys ( pronounced ‘niss’ - rarely ),

titles & alias’ — lady of driftmark, the forgotten daughter ( whispered ), the smiling dragon ( by the people - largely due to the bright smile she often wields in their presence )

gender — cis woman

pronouns — she/her

romantic & sexual orientation — heterosexual, heteroromantic

age — twenty seven

place of birth — driftmark

current residence — driftmark, though she spends ample time on dragonstone and within kings landing

PERSONALITY.

positive traits — vivacious, coquettish, kind hearted, graceful, playful

negative traits — mischievous, impulsive, curious, prone to flights of fancy

likes — music & singing ( the woman will often go about a task singing to herself, particularly when alone or under the belief that she is only accompanied by her ladies maid ), dancing ( she will pull anyone and everyone into dancing with her ), poetry & storytelling ( particularly the softer sort — tales of romance more than anything, but she occasionally quotes tales of battles )

dislikes — being talked down to, being kept from her found family/loved ones, the thought of a loveless marriage

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

eye color — lilac/amethyst

hair color — pale blonde, nearly white

hair style — varies daily. tends to wear her hair either loose or in a complex valyrian styling ( often consisting of braids ). tends to weave flowers or gems within her hair.

complexion — pale skin

build — slim

height — 5′3

clothing — dresses and slippers. at most formal events, she’s dressing in red or black, though occasionally she'll wear the aquamarine of her house. she tends to follow the fashions of westros, though she enjoys showing a bit of extra skin, much to the chagrin of her family members. she does enjoy finer, light colors ( whites, lilacs, soft pinks and greens ) as well as darker purples and blues. on occasion, depending on weather, she’ll don clothing of thicker material and fur lined cloaks.

accessories & jewelry — several rings worn upon her fingers ( polished dragonglass, golds or valyrian steel ). she wears a singular necklace that was her mothers of valyrian steel and rubies.

faceclaim — alicia agneson

RELATIONSHIPS.

parents — lady valaena velaryon nee rogare & lord OPEN velaryon, lady OPEN velaryon ( stepmother )

siblings — no full siblings, various half-siblings through her father and his second wife

cousins — house rogare of lys ( there are a plethora of distant cousins that linger in essos ; and while she writes to some of them often, she's never truly met any of them )

romantic interest — to be determined

children — none, though she does want a whole hoard of children in the future.

pets — a hound that she’s named meraxes

MISC.

religion — she largely follows the faith of the seven, however given her slight obsession with old valyria, rhaenys attempts dabbling with the gods of valyria ; given that so much information has been lost about the valyrian gods been the doom ( and later the dance of dragons ), a lot of her practice tends to mimic how northerners pray to their own gods ( quiet contemplation, though often knelt before a fire or on the rocky cliffs of her home where dragons once soared in the skies above ).

known languages — common tongue, high & low valyrian

BACKSTORY.

TW: CHILD NEGLECT, DEATH IN PREGNANCY

house rogare is a house as ancient as the dragons themselves ; holding ties to the once prosperous valyria. but when the doom struck, a house that owned a bank rivaling ( surpassing ) that of the iron bank seemed to falter and crumble as well ( the dragonlords were gone, and the century of blood that followed was devastating ). they managed to sustain their wealth ( but a portion of what they had once laid claim to ) ; living within the upper crusts of society of lys by surviving on favorable trade deals, but not once did they forget what they had once been.

marrying into the targaryens here and there, house rogare managed to forge connections to westeros ( though these seemed to be lost when robert led his rebellion and seemingly killed the last of the dragons ). so when dragons flew over essos and daeneys stormborn turned her eyes toward westeros once more, an offshoot of house rogare ( a man and his young wife ) were quick to pack up their things in order to follow the mother of dragons. it was there they had their first ( and only ) child ; a girl by the name of valaena rogare ; a birth that assisted in integrating them further into the unburnt queens court ( for what house would be more loyal than someone who was with her long before they set foot onto westeros? ). upon coming of age, their daughter would come to serve as a lady-in-waiting.

lord velaryon, much like his ancestors, was a proud and greedy man and upon seeing the ties the rogares ( a house that had once meant nothing in westeros ) had made to the royal house, arranged a betrothal between himself and the rumored valyrian beauty. it was, perhaps, the furthest thing from a love match, but the rogare's who had traveled west saw it as an opportunity.

as the elder two rogare's returning to lys following the passing of their patriarch, valaena grew pregnant shortly after her marriage, only to pass after birthing a girl. devastated at the loss, the now grandparents refused to return west.

uninterested in his lack of a male heir, lord velaryon passed the girls care off to a wet nurse ( and later a septa ) barely waiting the appropriate time to grieve before marrying once more to yet another illustrious house ( his second wife providing him his much desired heir and spare within several years of marriage ).

growing up, rhaenys knew little of her fathers affection, nor her stepmothers care ; their attentions often focused on their own children, who seemed to be favored in all ways. her upbringing was largely due to driftmarks maester and septa ; the staff that riddled with castle and the smallfolks who spotted the land. they showered her with the love her father refused her and taught the velaryon girl everything she would need to survive in this world ( and yet still, she strived to earn some sort of acknowledgement from the man ).

HEADCANONS.

001. when bad weather rolls in to shroud the island of driftmark, rhaenys took the exploring the entirety of her home in the years of her youth. she learned of every nook and cranny; of rooms long forgotten and collecting dust. she came to claim one as her own, calling it a solar when asked despite the fact that it was so dreadfully far from her own chambers. the room is perch high up within driftmark, with windows overlooking both the sea and the greatness of the island as a whole. the room is often flooded with light. cleaning and rightening the space was a task she undertook herself. when she was not sitting lessons wandering about the island she’s come to call home, that is where she often squirrels herself away.

when the sun shines upon driftmark, and when the woman is capable of shaking her servants and sworn sword alike, she takes to walking the island alone. whether it be visiting the small villages that pepper the shores of her home ( by now, she knows all the names of the small folk ; knows of their families and plights ), or walking the vast shores themselves.

002. her septa taught her lengthily about old valyria per the request of her father ( the man wanting all of his children to know where they came from ). it sparked an obsession with old valyria and she has since collected everything from old texts, jewelry, antiques and clothing that hail from the lands. she has a basin she keeps filled with hot coals ; a spot to nestle a petrified dragons egg, should she ever find one ( in the hopes that while cradled amongst the coals it might crack and prove that she truly is a trueborn velaryon ; like a dragonrider of old ). the room she’s claimed as her solar almost a shrine and she meticulously displayed each and every one of the objects she’s found.

if it were not for the rumors of the toxic air surrounding valyria, rhaenys is certain she would visit herself in search of artifacts, dragon eggs and to explore the once great ruins.

003. despite being the first trueborn velaryon, her father has always treated her as if she is something lesser, leaving the woman feeling the need to prove herself worthy of the velaryon name. she tries to excel in all that she does ( her dancing is flawless, her needlework is admirable, she knows the histories of her house and that of the great houses of westeros, she’s more than proficient in several languages and holds herself well ). she tries to wear the mask of velaryon lady well ; and it is only those closest to her that can see the cracks and imperfections ( the wildness that she often restrains, the laughter that is just edging to loud when she’s truly surprised or joyful, the crumbling of emotion when deeply effected, the roll of eyes when recounting a conversation held earlier in the day with this or that lord or lady ). strangers though? to them, she plays any cracks or apparent faults off. attempts to make them seeming charming.

004. she has only asked her father about her mother a handful of times, but given the half-answers the man provided, rhaenys stopped trying to obtain any further information about the woman until one day a servant made an off handed comment about how similar she looked to her late-mother. it was then she began to ask the staff and driftmarks residents what they knew about the former lady velaryon.

it was also this encouragement that led the woman to taking to frequently writing the portion of her mothers family that had remained in lys. she's taken to corresponding with distant cousins and her grandparents alike. though none of them are aware of exactly how lord velaryon treated his daughter, there have been constant requests that she join them for a time ( a thought she's entertained but never dared follow through with ; wondering if she left if she'd bother to return ).

005. her father cared little of her whereabouts in her youth, leading the woman to travel frequently to dragonstone ( driftmarks' sister island ) and kings landing itself.

006. she has a way of warming & charming even the iciest of hearts. the woman is naturally charismatic and will be welcoming ( be kind ) to anyone… until her chosen family or those she cares for are threatened ( then she’ll likely hiss and spit as a kitten might ; the woman has no capability of bringing physical harm to anyone regardless of circumstance, but her sworn sword and the other guards that shadow her are more than capable of swinging a sword on her behalf ).

007. she carries around two small valyrian daggers, one is always strapped to her right thigh, the other is often hidden within her shoes. she’s been taught how to kill someone if the need requires it, but in truth, she’s easily overpowered physically. she relies on those loyal to her house to physically protect her.

008. given her proficiency in high valyrian, rhaenys will fall into speaking the language without realizing it ( particularly when highly emotional, or when trying to have a private conversation amongst her family members without others catching wind of what they are discussing ). she does often assign random little nicknames towards those she likes ( and occasionally those she dislikes ).

009. her favorite stories to be told upon falling asleep each night as a child were tales of great love. she came to idolize these couples and long for a great romance of her own ( it was only once she grew older that she realized each great love made into a song was only due to the tragedy that seemed to follow ). even so, she’s still under the belief that every person is destined for one great love.

her hopes for romance have been dashed with the passing of the dragon queeen and tensions raising within westeros. she knows peace amongst the great houses is nothing but piece of paper ; easily discarded. it’s the marriages that often accompany them that solidify things. and given her fathers greed, the woman knows her husband will not be one of her choosing, but someone the man picks to further strengthen house velaryon and bring it back to its true glory days.

010. her maternal grandparents returned to lys shortly before the passing of her mother due to the passing of another family member ( and despite knowing they have a granddaughter, have not dared return since ). once she was old enough to understand their absence, her septa took to writing letters on the young velaryon's behalf, bridging the connection to her mothers family. she now corresponds with them regularly on her own ( the elderly couple all but begging she visit them in lys before they leave the world behind ). despite the disregard of her father, there is something keeping her tethered to westeros. for that reason, her grandparents tugged a few strings and sent a handful of guards to watch out for her ( not trusting the lord velaryon ). one of them got along well with the eldest of the velaryon children and since swore their sword to her.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS.

her father. the relationship between father and daughter is near inexistent. the man viewed his eldest as a hinderance and burden growing up, but now that she's blossomed into a valyrian beauty, rhaenys is a pawn ; another means to strengthen velaryon ties to great houses and further expand their reach. i imagine rhaenys rarely speaks about against the man aside from the occasional biting remark.

her stepmother. i'm up in the air on this one ; i could picture their relationship rather bitter, seeing as rhaenys might view her as a replacement to her mother, or perhaps the woman is kind to her in little ways on occasion. attempts to act like a mother to her when lord velaryon isn't around but because its only when the man isn't around things are a bit tense.

half siblings. i can see her getting along with maybe one of her siblings but the rest probably aren't great, likely due to the lot mimicking how lord velaryon regards her. they probably carry an air of indifference and mostly ignore one another, but pretend to be a united front in public.

her septa & driftmarks maester. these two sort of were the front runners of raising her. i imagine in secret she refers to them as her mother and father, despite the two telling her countless times not to do so ( they've probably given up trying to correct her at this point ).

staff at driftmark ( cooks, maids, guards, etc ), as well as smallfolk of driftmark. people who watched her grow? who she befriended? whose houses she ate meals in, whose families she asked after? basically people who probably believe in her more than most.

possible betrothal. someone throw a big wrench into her plans with a betrothal. destroy her thoughts of a grand love for something political and strained. she's going to find a way to break it, but just to spice things up and add tension into her life for a bit

lovers. i imagine she’s kept a very, very small number of lovers ( 1 - 2 at most ). i’d particularly like to see someone who made her throw caution to the wind. who encouraged her to shed the ‘perfect lady’ mask to be a bit more reckless. someone she could really picture her life with and maybe they both longing talked about a future they couldn’t have for some reason or another.

sworn sword. probably from a westrosi house ( or perhaps someone from lys ) ; their family had ties to house rogare before her grandparents returned to lys and her mother passed, and her grandparents have since written expressing desires to have a close, trusted ally watch after their granddaughter. this person is well aware that lord velaryon is an utter asshole and has taken their duties very serious.... perhaps they could have been sent as a ward to house velaryon or even to act as a companion to rhaenys and have sort of stepped into the unofficial role of sworn sword as well if you'd prefer they keep a noble title.

hand-maidens/ladies maids. one or two people from houses loyal to house rogare or house velaryon. i imagine they’ve been with rhaenys for at least ten years. maybe they started as companions in her youth. i can see these as being the people ( aside her family ) she’s closest to. they’re her confidants.

friends. given she travels around the crownlands, she’s probably met countless people. she will try to find common ground with anyone and everyone. if they don’t see one another frequently, she’s probably penning letters every few weeks ( or if they’re good friends, occasionally sending along little gifts… or finding an excuse to visit most likely ).

#rhaenys velaryon — * development #//updated little intro now that rhae is a velaryon instead of a targ!#tw: child neglect #tw: death in pregnancy

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mllx-anazra · 2 years

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tis the damn season (part.1)

Here is the Taylor Swift-inspired reader insert fanfiction to hopefully tame the brain rot Eddie Munson has induced since Vol.1 (also posted on Ao3).

TW: smut in later chapters so minors DNI, talk of therapy and trauma in later chapters, Eddie Munson is pinning, so is the reader, mentions of asshole rockstar boyfriends, drugs (the old devil's lettuce), explicit references, reader is a Henderson to make my no Y/N rule easier but is a cousin so hopefully it's ""inclusive"" enough?

Part 1: And it always leads to you, and my hometown

"Jesus, man, can you drive any slower? We're late already!" Dustin pestered for what felt like the hundredth time in the short time he, Wheeler, and Sinclair pretty much begged Eddie to drive them to the other side of town to help you move in.

His curiosity got the better of him, and he not only adjourned the DnD meeting of today but agreed to drop the freshmen on your doorstep, hoping to understand why the hell you were back in Hawkins two years after your graduation.

The golden child, all straight A's, bouncy hair and toothy grins, bedazzled acoustic guitar, and the flare of the next Stevie Nicks, had made it out of bumfuck Indiana through a contract with a fancy Californian label, like some kind of modern fairytale. And yet, as the fall of 85 was settling slowly and surely in this small town, Eddie grew to see as his personal hell, you were coming back, settling back in your parents' small old house not too far from the trailer park, for no understandable reason.

"Remind me again why the fuck is your cousin settling here again?" the metalhead glanced at his rear mirror, catching Dustin's impatient gaze.

"I don't know, something about a job and taking a break from the label or some shit. C'mon, man, it's the SEVENTH red light we have gotten in the past five minutes; for the love of CHRIST, could you speed up!!"

"Calm the fuck down, Henderson and get a grip, jeez; little miss sunshine can wait five minutes for us to move her couch or whatever."

"Steve is probably there already!" the teen whined. "I wanted to be the first to see her!".

At the mention of Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Eddie felt a pang in his belly, immediately remembering the chaste kiss he had seen you exchange with the King of Hawkins during your sophomore year winter dance on Toto, where he had been dying to ask you out. He mentally scoffed at the memory; pretty girls like you frenched and held hands with pretty boys like Harrington, while guys like him, well… Were at best dirty little secrets.

Which is whatever the fuck you could call the first, and in your case last, senior year, you spent in dark corners branding him with scalding lips that tasted like cherry chapstick. After a too-drunk encounter at a Halloween party in 1983, where you had sloppily told him, "Today we're all allowed to be freaks, Munson," and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, you had both sought each other out for the months until your graduation. Official tutoring lessons where you'd wear the shortest preppiest skirts to drive him crazy and jam sessions to "exchange creative ideas" were just excuses to fool around like the horny teenagers you had been. And God, if you were not one little devil behind all your good girl skit. Eddie fought to not get too lost in the raunchiest memory of your skin against his, lips nipping and kissing every crevice of each other's bodies in his van, your car, his trailer, your childhood bedroom, the school's bleachers, empty English classrooms and study halls at the library, Lovers' Lake shores, the movies…

How the hell was he supposed to make small talk with you after two years without so much as a call or letter? Oh, the cruel torture of politeness with a woman who rocked his world and that he still had trouble shaking off, dropping your cousin and his friends at your door when the only thing he wanted was to drop was his knees and see for himself if you tasted like he remembered.

"Turn left on that corner!" supplied Dustin, after five minutes of bickering with Mike and Lucas about the following steps to best approach the brutal campaign Eddie had set up for them.

"I know where the house is, deep shit."

"How?" pressed Wheeler, eyebrows furrowed. Fuck, pestering reporter genes might run in the family. Nancy had provided the same inquisitive tone after Eddie had agreed to drive the kids rather than her at the school parking lot thirty minutes ago.

"Because the trailer park is really close to this neighborhood, and I've lived on this hellhole my entire life?" the mere fact he had to justify himself made him pissed off.

"There, there, stop the car!!" Dustin excitedly screamed, unfastening his seatbelt and bolting out of the van to jog his way to your front stairs.

And there you were, dropping the box you were holding to immediately hug your cousin, gushing over his growth, matching dimples on both of your faces.

Were you a sight for sore eyes, all long summer dress and silky shawl, skin radiant and smile beaming, sunglasses pushed back on your forehead, and bracelet clicking as you embraced Lucas and Mike once Dustin had let you go.

Psyching himself up, Eddie summoned his coolest demeanor as he locked the van and strutted towards your porch. Your look of initial confusion morphed to a wide grin, almost feral, making him weak in the knees.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is this you, Munson?" amusement laced your voice, making his heart jackhammer in his ribcage. Same timber, warmth, and spice characterizing your voice after all this time.

"All metal and denim, sunshine." God, he hated how easily the nickname rolled off his tongue, electing strange looks amongst the boys and a glint in your eyes he had thought of so often.

Before you could quip further or embrace him (fuck did you still use the same perfume and conditioner, he needed to know), Steve fucking Harrington interrupted your reunion:

"Now that you cruds are finally here, come help us set the couch, it's super heavy. Oh, hey, Munson."

He was still wearing his Family Video vest, literally having come here from his workplace to help you settle, Eddie interpreting this as an eagerness that immediately gritted his nerves. It was no secret that Steve had chased you before he set his sights on Nancy and did not shy away from what could be qualified as grand romantic gestures to win you over.

"Jeez, Steve, let them grab a drink first it's so freaking warm today. C'mon in, there is a lemonade cooling in the kitchen, help yourselves. You know the house!"

The teens skited towards the entrance of your modest but coquettish home, Eddie leisurely strolling up the stairs to meet you on the last step.

"Long time no see, Henderson. Looking good." Smooth, Munson, keep it smooth.

"You tell me, Eddie." A shiver ran up his spine at the way your plump lips curled around the syllables of his name. "Are you converting my kids to your satanic cult through the impenetrable ways of DnD?"

He smiled at your teasing.

"They say it's better to get them young when they're more influenceable."

You chuckled, a side smirk still firmly planted on your face.

"Well, be my guest, Dungeon Master (his knees buckling again); I have a beer in the cooler if you prefer."

"Hey, why does he get beer and I don't?" Steve indignantly called out, apparently shamelessly eavesdropping on your conversation.

"Because, unlike you, he is turning 21, and you're supposed to be a role model for the kids or something", you retorted, slightly exasperated.

The guffaws the boys made at the implication were enough to bring a delicate warmth to your gaze as you guided Eddie through your corridor towards your kitchen. Fleetwood Mac was blasting in the living room, and his fingers couldn't help but tap in rhythm, reminiscing how you would let it play in the background of your study make-out sessions.

He followed and pretended to look at your walls interestingly as if he had not slammed you there several times while driving you back home after school.

"Cool house, Henderson." He supplied, prompting you to look back at him, eyebrow raised, as if your mind had joined his.

The boys were gathered around your small kitchen island (another fun memory), sipping on your lemonade as you fetched too cooled beers in your ice box. Steve's grumbling only intensified when he figured out the second can was for your sake and not his, prompting you to bonk his head with it.

Eddie tried not to envy the easiness with which Steve and you seemed to interact, probably already caught up with each other's lives as it was.

"So," Lucas started after a very loud sip, "what brings you back to Hawkins after this time?"

"Seeing my favorite people on Earth is not a good reason enough, Sinclair?" you said while leaning on the counter, hands joined. Eddie thought he recognized a glint on one of your fingers. Did you keep…

The unimpressed looks on your audience made you fake gasp loudly.

"Fine, FINE!" you huffed. You mulled over your response for a second, eyes adrift. "I was in the studio when I heard about the Starcourt fire. I was so scared that something might have happened to any of you… I don't know; it freaked me out. So many weird things have happened in Hawkins these past few years I feel like…."

Fiddling with your rings, including the one Eddie gifted you after your marveled at his a few weeks before you left, you didn't register the looks the kids and Steve exchanged.

"Also, I need field experience for my college credits, and Hawkins High has been looking for a part-time librarian and teaching assistant since Mrs. Sinema retired."

"Why the hell you're going to college for? You work", Mike said, disdain clear in his voice. Damn, did Wheeler know damn well how to be annoying when he wanted to.

"Yeah, well, working sucks Mikey, so I'm going back to school," you chuckled.

"Don't ruin it for all of us, Henderson. Some are trying to graduate this year", Eddie quipped, gulping down his drink.

"Are you now Munson? Who will lead your hordes of satanic minions in your absence?"

Mirth was evident in your tone, but Dustin clearly missed it.

"Hellfire is a Dungeons and Dragons CLUB!! Not a satanic cult??? Are you getting your talking points from Jason Carver or something??"

"Jeez, Dusty, can't a girl crack a joke? I know what DnD is, it's all you nerds yap about. Also, ew, is Jason Carver still preaching his choir at school?"

"You have no idea…." Mike mumbled.

"He's not that bad, guys," Lucas started, prompting a chorus of groans from his club.

"He is incredibly entitled and a terrible basketball captain, in my humble opinion," offered Steve, eyeing your still untouched beer.

"Moh, salty about the person occupying the throne you vacated, King Steve?" Eddie snarked with perhaps a bit too much gusto.

The look Steve threw him, a mixture of "who the fuck are you again" confusion and "why are we interacting" that cheerleaders would throw his way, made the metalhead's stomach drop a little.

"Maybe I don't miss high school all that much," you hummed, finally sipping on your drink.

"Well, we sure did miss you," concluded Dustin, hugging your side as you smiled at him brightly, squeezing him back.

"You might less after moving my furniture, Dustibun."

The boys collectively groaned as you jumped back into action, your cousin and his friends making their way to the large trailer attached to your car outside. Eddie lingered, chugging the remanent of his beer.

"You don't have to help Munson, I didn't expect you here," you offered, and was it a twinge of nervousness he could hear in your voice? Oh, that was interesting.

"Always here if you need a hand, Henderson." You caught the suggestive wiggling of his fingers, rolled your eyes, and pushed him towards your front door. He did notice the blush tinging your cheeks.

After what felt like hours of moving boxes – how much shit could you bring back into your semi-empty childhood home was truly baffling –the sun was starting to dim significantly.

"All right, y'all, thank you all so much for your help, but I'm afraid it's time to scram if you want to be back home before dinner!".

"You're still coming over, right?" asked Dustin as he polished the last gulps of the lukewarm lemonade on your counter, much to Steve's dismay.

You nodded enthusiastically and hushed them all to the door. Your hand might have lingered one second too long on Eddie's small back, electing delicious sparks up his spine. You had both danced around each other lightly all afternoon, both sides trying to figure the other out without being too suspicious. It was a skill you had mastered with all these months of sneaking around, for what must feel like a lifetime ago to you, shining bright on stage yet coming back to grace Hawkins with your smile once again.

Eddie nodded at the tall boxes carefully placed still in the large trailer outside, knowing they probably contained your music gear, before inquiring, "You're not putting them inside? Careful, they might get taken."

"You fancy my bedazzled folk guitar, Munson?"

"Depends. Is your name still engraved on the fretboard?" Are my initials still carved on the back of the neck? He was dying to whisper to you.

The laugh that accompanied the slight push you gave him was enough for now.

"Alright, Sinclair, Wheeler, in the backseat. You Hendersons will be okay?" asked Steve, hands on his hips. Since when did Harrington exude this motherly energy, Eddie wondered.

"Yeah, I will just detach the trailer and lock it, we should be good."

"I could drive you."

Eddie had blurted out too fast for his brain to register, the idea of parting from you so soon making his heart lurch.

You and Dustin looked at him quizzically; "The trailer park is literally down the road, my house is on the other side of town," the younger Henderson supplied.

"Rule number one of Hellfire, mini-Henderson; you treat fair maidens gracefully, especially returning ones." He cringe internally, his panicked state at losing his cool making him sound like a grade A nerd.

"I thought the first rule was listening to the Dungeon Master," quipped Wheeler as he settled in Steve's car. Oh, he was gonna make Mike lose during the next campaign if the kid did not watch his tone.

"Thanks for the offer, Eddie, but I'll need to drive back here anyways, so I'll take my car."

"Let me help you with the trailer, at least." He thought he heard Harrington mutter along the lines of "since when is Munson that willingly helpful."

How Eddie hoped the genuine smile you threw him was unique and your lingering gaze not a cruel fabrication of his imagination.

You hugged the kids and Steve goodbye, dress flowing prettily as you turned back to him and embraced him softly. And yes, your laundry still smelled the same, sweet as lavender and soapy, but with a newer distinctive scent, he could quite not pinpoint. Will need to sniff again, supplied his brain. He wanted to slap the creeper out of himself so hard.

"Nice seeing you again, Munson," you whispered in his ear, making him shiver and ache for you only further. The speed with which you could worm yourself back into his body and spirit was frankly concerning, he will ponder later, screaming in his pillow back at the trailer.

"You too, sunshine." He brushed his finger along the thin silvery band adorned with a skull on your middle finger. Telling you, he did notice how you kept it. Did remember – how could he ever forget you –.

You hopped into your car and honked goodbye as the hopeless metalhead watched you drive away, butterflies swarming in his guts, before the stunned look on Steve's face reminded him of hopping back into his vehicle.

Eddie Munson was royally fucked, but so incredibly eager about it if you were the reason. "This really is my year," he muttered to himself as he fished out a mixtape long buried in his glove box, "songs we will fuck to" scribbled on the label with your pink sharpie, the ink fading making the hearts and dick you drew almost transparent. As Eddie drove back to his home, Led Zeppelin blasting in his speakers, all he could hear was the blood drumming in his ears, in time with his pounding heart. God, he had it bad.

#eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie my beloved #stranger things #ongoing #anazra writes #steve harrington #dustin henderson #eddie x you #eddie x reader #henderson!reader #but like cousins #reader insert

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kage-no-sonzai · 8 months

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Sad shit below the cut (tw: loss of family member)

This is the guy I miss. Before the dementia made you forget me.

I like to think I was still there, in your memories, even if you didn't always know who I was. And I like to think that when I went to see you, you recognised someone you loved, even if you didn't know my name.

You'll always be in my memories. As the man who raised, nurtured, and loved me.

I will always remember you taking me to McDonalds on Wednesdays, and nicking my chips. I will remember how me and my cousin used to pop our heads out the sunroof of your car when you were driving down country roads. I will remember you taking me swimming every Tuesday, rewarding us with a chip butty after. I will remember you picking me up from school when my Dad didn't. I will remember yours was the house I got my first set of keys to. I will remember how you were the one to nurture me in my speech therapy, but never weaponised it. I will remember walking around town with you, going to Wilko, and fixing the weight of the pick and mix so it was cheaper. I will remember you teaching me army songs, I still remember them.

I will remember that you always used to call me your 'diamond'.

And I will never forgive the disease that got you, and took you away from us before we were ready to let you go.

I love you to pieces and always will 💕 I love you grandad. Rest in Peace 💕 I hope you're not confused and in pain anymore.

#liz talks

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

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could I maybe request a fix it where reader visits elvis after he’s hospitalized for suffering of exhaustion and when they’re alone the reader insists elvis should fire the colonel and get help but he says he’s fine and the reader mentions that lisa said she doesn’t like Las Vegas because it made her daddy sick and when reader asked to explain herself she said that since he started his residency he looked tired and dizzy and sad all the time (ofc because of the drugs but she doesn’t know). all she knows is that her daddy is suffering and he doesn’t look sick when the colonel is not around. and hearing that his daughter is worried about his health breaks him and he decides to fire the colonel and put steve in charge, and steve makes sure that elvis is clean and healthy before sending him on a world tour and filming more movies that e can actually be proud of (because “I’m not sending you like this around the world, it’ll kill you”)? I just want to imagine what would e’s life would’ve been if he had seen the signs sooner and had fought to get better.

For Lisa

tw: sad reader, elvis, and lisa + mentions of drug abuse || word count: 1077 || rating: Pg

A/N: this is possibly the worst thing i've posted so far, so i do apologize for that 😅 💕

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“Oh Elvis,” you mutter as you walk into the hotel room.

You shield your eyes as Jerry and Cousin Billy lift up sheets of flashy silver tin foil. The sheets are being taped up onto the windows to keep too much sunlight from shining into the room. As you glance at your husband laying lifeless on the bed in his robe with a pair of dark red sunglasses covering his eyes, you sigh. He looks totally exhausted.

You had been at Graceland in Memphis with Lisa Marie, getting her ready to go off to school in the morning when you'd gotten a call from Jerry that Elvis was being hospitalized. Jerry said that your husband was suffering from exhaustion and you had better get there quickly. Of course, you'd jumped on the first flight to Vegas after getting Lisa settled.

"Hi baby," Elvis murmurs, holding his arms out for you.

You approach him, shrugging your bag off and dropping it into a chair in the corner of the room. You take his arms and lean over to hug his relaxed body. You press a kiss to his hot forehead and trail your fingers down his face, stroking the soft skin. You are about to ask him how he's feeling when the Colonel's high-pitched voice interrupts you.

"Yes, as I was saying, Dr. Nick will help you rest so that you can get back on your feet in time for a U.S. tour," the Colonel says, throwing a look of contempt in your direction. You return it without hesitation before he continues. "And I think 15 shows, 15 days, 15 cities will work out very nicely."

You clench your jaw, squeezing your fingers into fists by your sides and glaring over at the Colonel. The anger that rises in your chest moves you to speak before you can stop yourself.

"Can we have a minute, please? I'd like to speak with my husband alone," you blurt out, glancing at Jerry for support. He nods, understanding your meaning.

"Yeah, let's leave the married couple alone for a bit. I think they deserve a little time just the two of them."

You smile at Jerry as he ushers everyone out of the room and wait patiently until the door is closed before you turn to Elvis.

"How are you feeling, baby?" you ask, taking his hand. You stroke his skin with your thumb, noticing how dry and calloused it is. It's nothing like the soft, smooth skin that you remembered.

"Just a lil tired, hunny. It ain't nothin. I'll be better in the mornin."

You nod, averting your gaze from his eyes for a moment as you try to balance your anger, frustration, sadness, and irritation all at the same time. You heave a deep breath before turning back to Elvis. Tears are beginning to brim in your eyelashes. You try to blink them away, but your emotions get the best of you.

"You know I almost brought Lisa with me. I considered it, I really did. But she didn't want to come. Do you know why Elvis? Do you know why your daughter didn't want to come here to see you?"

Elvis says nothing, confusion knitting his brows together.

"Because she's afraid of this place. She told me. She said she doesn't like it here because daddy is always sick. Even your three-year-old daughter can see that this place fucking makes you sick, Elvis!" your voice has risen to a shout. "These drugs, all this performing, the shitty food, it's too much! It's scaring Lisa and it's scaring me!"

"Hunny, hunny, hunny," Elvis has leaned up in bed and is grabbing onto your flailing wrists which you've been using to gesture. "Baby, what the hell is this all bout? I'm just a lil tired, that's all. It ain't nothin."

"No, Elvis. Stop. I'm so tired of this. Lisa needs her father back. I need my husband back. And the Colonel isn't gonna allow that to happen. He won't let it, I know it. Just like I fucking told you, as soon as you got here he had you under ten feet of snow already before you even realized what was happening. He'll never let you go because every time you get away, he finds some way to drag you back. And then you're under all that snow again drowning, suffocating!"

"Nah, baby, the Colonel's helpin me out. I know I was 'posed to fire him back a few months ago, but he just knows how the industry works. He's gonna figure it all out for me. I just need a lil time to rest."

"Elvis, listen to me," you say, grasping at his hands and holding them close to your chest. "Please fire him. For your daughter, for me. I know you think he's the only one who can help you, but I promise, baby, I swear that we'll find another way. What about Steve Binder? I saw you up on that stage during the special. I saw how much fun you were having, and for the first time since I married you, I saw my husband. That was Elvis, not this."

You can see Elvis' eyes soften immediately and you realize just how tired he is when he barely puts up a fight. He opens his mouth to respond, but the nurse bursts back into the room before he has the chance. She immediately rushes to the side of the bed to attend to something, and you release an irritated breath. Within a matter of seconds, the room has flooded with people again.

"I think we should leave Mr. Presley alone to rest now," the nurse says, and you nod although you don't trust her.

You stand and lean over to kiss your husband, hovering on his lips for a moment before pulling back to whisper in his ear.

"Please just think about it," you squeeze his hand.

"I don't need to. Would ya give Steve a call for me, hunny?" he asks before pressing a soft kiss to your hand and releasing it.

He glances up at you with a soft smile and you can see the wink even underneath the dark red sunglasses. You return the expression, feeling a pang of intense hope pound in your chest. You mouth an "I love you" as he slips away into a deep slumber. You don't know if it will work, but you're just happy he's willing to try.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

🦋 mila

#elvis #elvis 2022 #milasthings #milaselviscontent #milasblurbs #milaselvisblurbs

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zxconnelll · 3 months

Text

✦ CASEY DEIDRICK, CIS MAN , HE/HIM ✦ ZACHARY CONNELL the 34 year old has been in willow’s edge for HIS ENTIRE LIFE and was a COUSIN to SARAH/TOBY/JAMIE/JUNE, the deceased family. whispers on the streets are that the OWNER OF NITE LIFE who lives in WINSLOW are said to be LAID-BACK and SELF-DESTRUCTIVE but i guess we’ll find out for ourselves. {JC,27, GMT, HE/HIM. } tw: alcohol

BASICS

Full Name: Zachary Edward Connell

Nickname: Zach, Z, Zachy

Age: 34

DOB: July 4th

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Pronouns: He/him

Parents: Oliver & Margot Connell

Siblings: Penelope Connell, Victoria Connell

LIFE

Occupation: Nite Life Owner.

Hobbies: Partying, Jogging, Shopping.

Likes: Whiskey, 70s Music , Motorbikes, Sex.

Dislikes: Early Mornings, Hangovers, Rude People, Cats.

Muse Inspo: Nick Miller(New Girl), Connor Walsh(HTGWM), Jackson Avery(Greys Anatomy), Tony Stonem(Skins), Lip Gallagher(Shameless).

FAVORITES:

Movie: Stand By Me

TV Show: Law & Order

Artist: Elvis

Song: The Wind by Cat Stevens

Book: The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A Fuck by Mark Manson

Food: Steak(Medium Rare) & Fries.

Drink: Whiskey Sour

BIO

It was clear from the start that Zachary's parents didn't quite know how to do the job at hand right way. They would often leave him with the babysitter most nights whilst they went out to some fancy dinner party in town but their son never minded much.

He liked it when his parents weren't there. They could be quite pushy and strict, especially his father so at least he never got that from the babysitter.

His dad was extremely hard on Zachary. Nothing the boy ever did was good enough. If Zach played well in a sports match, Oliver always wondered why his son hadn't played better. If he got a good grade, he always thought Zach should have gotten higher. It was never ending.

Even when his sisters were born Zach hoped things would change, but his dad's attention never shifted. If anything it only got worse.

Zach found a brand new freedom in the form of high school. The pressure he felt at home found it's release when his father wasn't around to keep an eye on him, often leading Zach to get kicked out of classes for fighting or mouthing off to his teachers.

He still managed to maintain his grades though, much to the surprise of his teachers. Always in fear of his father getting mad at him and cutting him off for going below a C-

The young boy did everything in his power to spend as little time around his dad as possible. So when he wasn't at school, he'd either be at his part time job collecting glasses at a local bar or at some wild house party, which often led to Zach getting a lift home in the back of a cop car, once again having to experience his dad's disappointed look.

Zach graduated High School with good grades, making it into a great college almost halfway across the country and eventually getting into law school. He had a talent for bullshit, arguing and getting his way, so becoming a lawyer only seemed natural, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't do it to just please his dad.

After graduating he moved back to Willows Edge and began looking for a job in a law firm, but had no real luck.

After venting his frustrations to his parents who were constantly asking about when he was going to get a real job and getting the usual bullshit from his father, Zach lost it.

The two argued for hours and it got quite heated, which all led to Zach storming out of the family home with all of his stuff packed into the back of his truck ready to leave this town for good.

But he didn't. Deciding against leaving his sisters and his mother and all his friends again, he just drove to the nearest place that played music and sold alcohol, which happened to be Nite Life, hoping to drink his sorrows away.

Zach got drunk. So drunk, more drunk than he had ever gotten in his entire life, and the next morning awoke to a banging hangover, almost one hundred missed calls from his mother and sisters, and an email from the clubs owner, confirming his purchase of it.

In the early stages of his drinking the night prior, Zach had discovered the place was up for sale and the verge of closure, so he did what any sensible man would do. He took all his savings, set for an apartment in New York, Chicago or even Washington and decided they'd be better spent buying Nite Life.

He knew deep down he truly never wanted to live that boring corporate life and was only doing it to appease those around him.

So maybe this was it, this was what he was destined to do, and though he still has doubts every single day about his decision, he wouldn't change things for the world, even if he thought it would make his father happy.

Head canons/Other Bits

Zach hasn't spoken to his father since he purchased the club almost eight years ago. Even at family events the two avoid each other like the plague and Zach honestly couldn't care less about it.

He loves his sisters more than anything and will do all he can to protect them, though sometimes he feels a bit like his father and takes a step back from having such a watchful eye over them.

He loves his job though over the years has become less of shot loving a party boy and more of a quiet whiskey behind the bar type.

Often gives out free(And sometimes unwanted) legal advice to his patrons after they spill their worries to him at the bar. Usually debating if one day he'll put his law degree to some good use.

He lives in a two bed home in Winslow with his room mate. They often get complaints from neighbours for their Nite Life after parties, but Zach manages to talk his way out of it going further.

He's a hopeless romantic. He would love to settle down one day with the right person and is constantly on the apps and going on dates, but he just hasn't made it work yet.

He was not closet to his aunt's family in the slightest. He found them quite a annoying, and spoilt and knows they're practically the reason his parents are the way that they are.

tba

#willowsedgeintro

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cyncerity · 1 year

Note

Dream is a shifter (at least from what I'm inferring based off your most recent chart update and some previous posts). Dream and Tommy are cousins, so Dream is one of two children on the bottom left of the new labeled family tree. In an earlier post you mentioned that Dream moved with his mom and brother, which confirms he has a sibling. Later in that post you mention Dream telling George about his little! brother having his first day of kindergarten. Which makes Dream the first born and therefore the shifter! (I think lol)

tw: gun violence, non-sexual nudity, description of graphic violence

Glass shattering. That’s how it had started. A completely average day turned on it’s head by the sound of the front door being broken and a man screaming orders. A gun in his hand. Others started screaming, customers ran for their lives as the rest of the employees tried to help them escape. They tried to remain composed, tried to remember their training on how to deal with this safely, but the man was still there. Still shouting orders, still pointing his gun at anyone in his range of vision, now stalking the store looking for anyone he could get something from.

If you’d have asked Dream that morning if he thought he would die that day, well, he’d probably have been very, very concerned about what the question implied, but obviously he would have said no. But here he was, an armed robber in his store, some customers running and hoping to avoid the gunman, some ducking to the ground for cover, his friends all trying to help any innocent patrons while also keeping themselves alive. He couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t just stand by.

All of his training went out the window as he ran past anyone still in the store and directed them to the nearest exits, just praying he wouldn’t run straight into the robber, dumb luck being his only survival strategy. His employees refuted as silently as possible as to not attract the gunman’s attention, tried to convince him to let them stay to help. His little brother especially. Foolish had always been too kind for his own good. Nonetheless, he begged him to leave, along with the rest of his employees. He refused to let them die. They were his closest friends, practically his family, the people who had come to help when he took over this little store and the people who had stuck by him through thick and thin. If he had to be a martyr for them, so be it.

He had tried to get them all out. He thought he did. All his employees were accounted for, right…?

…shit, Nick. He was still in the store. Dream hadn’t seen him leave.

As quickly as he could run quietly, he tried to find Nick, only to no avail. Now, they weren’t exactly close friends, per say, but Dream would be damned if Nick had to die today. Just because he was a newer, more shy and soft spoken employee didn’t mean he deserved to be left behind with an armed robber. He turned to a different aisle, running through into an open area, just searching for any sign of his friend.

Cold metal touched his neck.

He didn’t have to move his head to know that the gun was on him. The barrel was pressing uncomfortably hard into his skin, sending shivers down his spine. He heard a gruff voice behind him tell him to lift his hands. He slowly obliged. After all, what more could he do? The man roughly patted him down, taking his wallet and phone out of his back pockets. Dream tried to think through anything he had on him. A pen in his front pocket, a pocket knife, a little notepad with his to-do list in his apron…wait a second.

He was stupid, wasn’t he?

The green switchblade was in his front right pocket. And, ok, maybe those were illegal to own, but they were damn good in a quick life-or-death situation like this one. If he timed it right, could he hit the gunman and run? Did he have time, or would he pull the trigger before then? Did he have time to think it through any further?

The hand reaching for his front pocket said no. So, he acted.

In a blur as his life flashed before his eyes, Dream’s hand came down quickly, grabbing the knife and quickly flipping the sturdy black tinted metal blade out. He thrusted his hand back as hard as he could and felt it hit something, his hand and knife quickly becoming covered in a warm, sticky liquid; but not before he heard a click from right behind his head.

***

Sapnap ran through the store. He had heard the shattering of the glass, had seen the man come in. He hadn’t understood immediately, but he knew crowd panic when he saw it. People running, screaming, crying, it all sent him back into some…unfortunate memories.

He eventually, thankfully, found someone he knew helping a small family out the employee only door in the back of the store. “Punz!” he called as loudly as he dared, trying to keep his voice low since that’s what everyone else seemed to be doing. Punz looked around for a bit before spotting him. His eyes raised and he quickly helped the family the rest of the way out before running to Sapnap. “Nick!” Punz said, voice wavering and hands shaking as they brought Sapnap into a hug. “Thank god you’re ok, you’re one of the few people i wasn’t with when this all went down.” Sapnap held onto his friend for a moment before gently pulling away and noticing that Punz looked terrified, more terrified than he’d ever seen a human look. He didn’t like seeing them like that. “Yeah, and speaking of ‘this,’ what’s going on?” “You didn’t see? Or hear?” “I saw the door break, and there was a guy. He was holding something and screaming and everyone started running, what’s going on?” Punz quickly shushed Sapnap before grabbing his wrist and guiding him to hide in a corner hidden by some shipment bins. “That guy was a robber and that thing was a gun. He’s here to fuckin mug us and kill anyone who gets in the way.”

Now, Sapnap didn’t know what the fuck a “gun” was, but he knew what kill meant. It meant he and everyone in this store were in terrible danger, he had to help people get out, what if someone was stuck in the aisles alone with a killer, what if…

his fiancés. Oh god, his fiancés. They were planning to borrow from the craft section, since Quackity had gotten some of his clothes torn and dirtied and wanted to make some new ones anyway. Were they out there? Alone? Oh god, if the thought of a relatively normal human finding and taking them was bad, the idea of a murderer finding them was so, so much worse. It made him feel sick.

He barely heard Punz’s scared whisper of his human name as he sprinted out of the corner. Punz could hide if he wanted. It was probably better for them anyway so they didn’t get hurt. But Sapnap couldn’t wait around for some killer to find his fiancés first.

***

Dream didn’t know what had happened. One second, he heard a gunshot, painfully close to his ears. He felt the heat behind his head and heard the trigger be pulled on him. He shouldn’t be alive right now. Was he even alive? Where…was he?

He felt like a little kid in a giant tent, like those parachutes that he played with in gym class. But this was bigger. Much, much bigger. It was a thicker stitching and fabric, and it was bright green, like his store uniform. Actually speaking of that, Dream realized he wasn’t actually wearing anything. He felt his face start to heat up. Well, that was…definitely pretty fuckin embarrassing, wasn’t it? Thank god he was alone wherever he was. Maybe he was dead. After all, you probably can’t take what you were wearing when you died to the afterlife. But the still warm blood on his hand from stabbing the gunman told him otherwise.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard something above him, something loud and seemingly confused. Was he crazy or did that sound like the gunman? All of a sudden, the world around him was tossed around, leaving him to helplessly flail around before he found some semblance of a way out.

There seemed to be a hole in the fabric, so without much of an idea of what else to do, he climbed for it. He made his way out into the open and saw what looked like miles of giant craft supplies. Glues, markers, scissors, fabrics, and little charms and knickknacks that seemed to go on forever. This…this was the craft aisle. He’d restocked it himself only a few days ago, but…why was it giant? He felt himself start to sweat and his hands started shaking as he fully took in the scene around him. In a panic Dream turned around, if only to not have to look at the giant supplies anymore only to see what he had crawled out of. And oh god, did he wish he had just kept looking at the craft supplies.

His work uniform. His shirt, now hundreds of times bigger than him, was unceremoniously crumpled beneath the aisle border after…whatever this was had happened to him, and he’d been stuck in it as it had been shoved around. What had happened to him? What if the gunman had done this to him? How could he have though?? Dream looked a bit farther down the floor and saw everything else he had had on him. His pants, his belt, his apron, and the necklace he had gotten from George. He carefully took the thick handmade blue and green braid that his boyfriend had made and tied it around his waist in a quick form of some cover. George had always insisted that he wear the mushroom pendant he got for Dream on the braid, it was tradition to his culture or something, and so they could match, given that George had made one for himself to hold the sword pendant Dream had sent to him. He didn’t have much from George, he’d never even met him in person, their necklaces had always been something they wore to remind themselves of the other until they could finally be together in person. Both of them rarely took it off. If there was anything he wanted to make sure he didn’t lose, it was the necklace.

The blue shiny mushroom pendant hit against his leg as he carefully walked from under the craft aisle border to the aisle he had just been in with the gunman only for his heart to practically stop. Hundreds of feet (well, feet to him) above him was the gunman, gun and bloodied knife left forgotten on the floor, as he ripped part of his shirt off and pressed it against his stab wound. A giant. Dream paled as hundreds of thoughts of what this man could do to him if he was found flashed through his mind, panic almost overtaking his mind almost enough to block out the sudden all too loud shouting…

wait, what?

***

Sapnap sprinted back to the craft aisle where he’d been trying to get for far too long. God dammit, why did he have to be such a nice person sometimes? He’d been helping people get out safely for a while, after he thought all the other employees had cleared out. But every time he thought there was no one left, someone else showed up and he couldn’t find it in him to leave someone else behind. But he still didn’t know if Karl and Quackity were ok. They had to be. He couldn’t live with himself if something had happened to them.

He was only a few aisles away when a loud bang rang out. It was somewhat familiar, he used to hear it occasionally when he lived in the forest colony he was born in. His dad had said the sounds were from hunters, humans with strange death machines that could kill an animal from far away. He explained them like over powered one handed bow and arrows. And now Sapnap had heard one in the store where his fiancés and possibly other humans were hiding.

Sapnap sprinted over full speed and froze where he stood. The robber stood right in front of him, back turned to him gun held out at open air. Sapnap could see the wall he was facing had been shot, if the minor crumbling was anything to go by. The gun in his hand was still smoking. But, why had he shot it at nothing?

Sapnap watched the man look around, mumbling incoherently and seemingly just really, really confused and then look around at the floor. Sapnap followed his eyes and it felt like his breathing stopped. Clothes. Not just any clothes, a work uniform, identical to the one he currently had on. What was that doing there? He watched the robber kick it around a bit before he saw it.

The white smiley pin on the apron and the little extra name tag that read manager. That was Dream’s. That was Dream’s uniform. Dream, who he realized he hadn’t seen leave, who he hadn’t heard anything about since the robber entered the store. He watched the man kick the uniform partially under an aisle and just shrug. He dropped the gun and physically pulled something from his side with a grunt and a wince, dropping that, too. He proceeded to take his jacket off and rip a part of the sleeve away and press it against his side, the dark fabric quickly becoming soaked and dripping with blood, Sapnap could smell it from where he stood several feet behind the man. He took that time to venture his eyes to the floor again.

A knife. That’s what the man had pulled from his side. A bright, almost neon green knife with a smiley face carved into the handle. That had to be Dream’s. Dream had stabbed the man, stabbed him good enough to cause a substantial amount of bleeding. Sapnap could guess who the man shot at.

So, where was Dream? If his knife was there, and his clothes where there for some reason, where was he? What had the robber done with him?

Sapnap ignored his anger and confusion for now. He could find Dream and make sense of all this later once the stranger with the gun was dealt with. But what could he use? There wasn’t much useful artillery in a craft aisle and the aisle next to it was where they blew up balloons for birthday parties and stuff…

wait a minute.

***

“HEY FUCKER!!”

Dream knew that voice, as loud as it was and as much as it hurt his ears at the moment, he knew that voice. Nick had always been so quiet, never really wanting to talk to people, and Dream couldn’t have even imagined him being loud moments prior, but damn if he wasn’t really loud right now. He also couldn’t have imagined how angry Nick could be.

Dream snapped his head in the direction of the scream at about the same time the gunman did, but only really Dream got to see what went down, since the second the robber turned his head, he was forcefully knocked backward with the full brute force of a helium tank to the face. He looked up farther to see Nick, face contorted in rage, face red and chest heaving, probably from having thrown a helium tank full force a moment earlier. Jesus, how strong was Nick? Dream backed up further at the thought. After all, if he had the strength to chuck a 30+ pound helium tank, what could he do to him right now?

He wanted to smack himself for thinking about that right now. Nick wouldn’t hurt him, he knew that. Sure, they didn’t know each other great, but he knew Nick was a nice guy. More than a nice guy, he was one of the sweetest people he’d ever met. Nick stayed with him after hours constantly, always helped anyone with what they needed, never complained and always did his best to work well with others. Why would he hurt Dream now? Why would he want to? But yet, the thought of drawing Nick’s attention to himself make his knees weak. He was just…so big right now. He was an absolute giant, sue him for being scared of someone who could kill him so effortlessly.

He watched Nick walk over to the robber and make sure he was unconscious, as if anyone could stay awake after getting decked that hard. He watched Nick lift the man’s head a bit and if Dream wasn’t scared enough earlier, he certainly was now. Dream could hardly breathe as he watched literal teeth fall out of the man’s mouth as Nick sat him in an upright position against the wall he had apparently shot when he hadn’t hit Dream. Along with that, he nose was broken to an absolute pulp, and his entire face was an ugly blend of purples, reds, and blacks. He watched Nick take in the damages himself and he at least looked somewhat concerned, as if he hadn’t meant to do that much damage. Dream kind of wished that was true. Nick had never seemed all that violent.

After a moment of kneeling and surveying what he’d done to the robber, he stood and walked back the way he’d come down the aisle, freezing to stare down at Dream’s knife. After a few moments of hesitation and an expression that Dream couldn’t quite read, he knelt down to take it and, after a few seconds of looking it over, flipped the switch to slide the blade back in.

“…Dream? Are you here? Are you ok?” Nick asked, sounding concerned. He kept looking around as if Dream would just appear out of nowhere at his call, never thinking to look down. Of course not, why should he? No rational person would assume the person they were looking for was all of a sudden mere inches tall for no reason. And as Dream heard Nick call out his name over and over, sounding more frantic every time, he hesitated. He knew he should want to go out there, he knew his friend would help him through whatever had happened. But something kept him where he was, hiding under the aisle.

Fear. He knew it was fear, plain and simple. Thousands of worst case scenarios came to the forefront of his mind as he watched Nick pace up and down the aisle, and he couldn’t bring himself to step out where he could be seen.

How could he know what Nick would do? How could he guess how Nick would react to…this? How could he be sure he wouldn’t regret it? He liked Nick a lot, he really did, but he’d be putting his life and his well-being in the hands of another person, and there wasn’t a single person he thought he could trust enough to do that with, not right now, now while he felt so…vulnerable. So, he stayed put, and watched Nick sigh and give up, pulling out his phone. It took him a few seconds of muttering to himself before he seemingly remembered something and tapped at his phone a few times. He put it up to his ear and Dream could only watch helplessly as Nick reported everything that had happened to who he could only assume was the 911 operator. He seemed to move past the initial break in pretty quickly, so someone else had already probably called about that, but he listened in on how Nick reportedly “captured” the gunman and how his friend was missing.

It took a lot not to break down then and there as Dream listened to Nick recite everything he knew into the phone. Gunshot in the wall, clothes on the floor, his knife in the side of the assailant, and no sign of him beyond that. He heard tears start to threaten Nick’s voice as he continued and repeated the confusing details, probably at the request of the operator. Dream was sure he’d be on the news by the next morning at the very latest, once the relatively small town learned that the owner of one of the most popular stores in the area was missing. God, when his mom found out he was alive and ok, she’d kill him. He didn’t want to make her worry this much.

…Well, that is, if she ever found out he was alive and ok. He didn’t know if this was temporary, or if it could ever even be reversed, or if he’d just keep shrinking until he disappeared or something horrifying like that. Maybe someone he knew would accidentally step on him or squish him if they didn’t notice him at his new size. Then maybe it would be a good idea for his friends and family to think he mysteriously disappeared, so they couldn’t blame themselves. He tried not to let his thoughts on that particular matter go any farther. Instead he put his focus back on Nick, and saw him make his way into the craft aisle as the operator seemed to take over talking, Nick only responding every once in a while with a nod or a hum. He seemed to be searching the aisles for something, which seemed…odd, given the circumstances.

It was only when Dream heard quiet, almost inaudible voices that Nick turned slightly away from him and towards the noise, apparently having heard it himself. Or maybe he was hearing the operator’s voice and Nick was looking random places and he was losing his mind. He wouldn’t be too surprised after what had just happened. He was already tiny, why not add a little bit of hysteria and insanity on top? Dream watched as Nick started to move some boxes on a higher shelf, and he seemed to find what he was looking for. His eyes went wide as he quickly stuck his phone between his shoulder and head and turned fully to the shelf, lifting both hands high and seemingly taking something.

Dream saw the tears from before start to pour from his eyes as he pulled whatever it was down from the shelf and held it up to his face, and Dream thought he could hear Nick whispering quiet reassurances to it before moving it to one hand and pressing it against his chest and picking the phone back up. He quickly turned his back to Dream as he continued down the aisle, and Dream could only catch a glimpse of…a tail? Did he really see a tail sticking out from Nick’s fingers? Whatever, if Nick had a pet mouse of something in the store, that was none of his business. Not right now, anyway.

As soon as he was sure Nick was far enough away, he walked into the craft aisle, looking around the various strings and fabrics. He sighed and made his way over to their scrap pile, finding himself a long green sheet. Foolish had always made fun of him for wearing predominately bright green, but what could he say, he had a brand. Besides, for the time being, he was stuck like this, and he’d rather not be completely indecent. And after all, this was his store, he knew where the necessities were, all he had to do was survive until this wore off. It was gonna wear off. It had to wear off eventually, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life like this. He didn’t know what he’d do if he could never return to his old life. But that was a thought for a far later, more desperate Dream, because this was only the beginning. He’d start to be concerned at the permanent nature of this if he wasn’t normal again in a few days. He’ll have an existential crisis about how all this happened later. For the time being, he had to stay positive, he couldn’t afford to panic when everything and everyone could so easily kill him. He needed gear, things to hold supplies, someplace to call a base for the time being, he had so much to do. But…not before clothes, those should probably come first.

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fitzyshusband · 4 months

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So I recently came home to find a lovely package of bsd Volume 11. It single handedly is my favourite volume of all time, asides from around 3/4 to 10 (aka Guild Arc). The obvious reason is, well Fitzgerald: my name isn't Fitzyshusband for nothing.

To nobody's surprise, this is my Fitzgerald Ramble: (I've decided to add images between like each convo so you don't have to feel overwhelmed with so many words)

(Apologies if there's any spelling errors I've not proof read this...yet)

Were going to name the chapters 'Fitzgerald's rising' collectively because that's the name of the Anime episode (I watched the anime first before reading the manga). One thing the anime fails to accomplish is establish a deep personality and completed story for Fitzgerald. I noticed there was so many more little convosations and scenes in the manga that the anime took out that quite frankly should've stayed in. I know budget wise and from a business stand point nobody really wants to see Fitzgerald they're more focused on the major characters such as Atushi, Aktagawa, Ranpo, Fyodor, tw Dazai, Chuuya because those are the fandom Favourite (not mine personally, asides from Fyodor and ranpo, but I can see why they're liked so much).

What is so good about Fitzgerald rising is that it draws in so much from The Great Gatsby that it stimulates my brain and makes me giggle and kick my feet and feel overwhelmingly happy emotions. I haven't really looked into many of the other characters but I do believe that Fitzgerald is one of the only characters that has his book referenced so much in a way that you have to actually be aware of the plot of the Great Gatsby to know.

To briefly summarise the plot of The Great Gatsby, Nick caraway is the cousin of Daisy who is married to Tom Buchanan. Nick moves in beside a truely amazing house and meets the owner Jay Gatsby. Gatsby and Daisy are past lovers, because Gatsby has to go off Daisy ended up being with Tom. Gatsby got all his wealth and everything he has to win Daisy's love and attention, to which he does before she caves in and decides she should stay with Tom. This all ends in Gatsby dying (murder) and showing that nobody asides from Nick actually cared about him.

I'm bad at explaining so I hope that this somewhat helped.

Now, onto the symbolism with Fitzgeralds Rising.

First of all, T.J Eckleburg is a character in the Great Gatsby. His name is on a billboard with two peeping eyes, owning the 'eyes of god'. In BSD, It's Tom Buchanan who owns Eyes of God and Eckleburg is merely the enjineerer behind it. I like that Tom Buchanan is seen as an asshole and horrible man in bsd because he definitely is in The Greag Gatsby. I'm also glad that Tom Buchanan meets his demise to Fitzgerald (Gatsby) because its the opposite of what happens in the actual book.

I'm not the only one to agree that Fitzgerald is the only character deserving of the book that everyone is like hunting for. Not only is his reasoning family orientated but he shows signs of caring for others, despite John Steinback saying he doesn't care. I think there is a darker side to Fitzgerald, this would be in line with the Authors life as a whole; raging alcoholic with a very messy life, often making a fool of himself and evenchually dying alone. I don't believe this should be an outcome for BSD Fitzgerald because I think I wouldn't be able to recover mentally, but I do enjoy the idea that Fitzgerald is alone.

It sounds twisted but from a character development stand point its such a good concept. This man that is Extroverted, known to be very big and have all this wealth; a lovely wife, so many good things that most people don't have, but deep inside he has this lingering loneliness. This is so apparent because although he is surrounded by so many people his more impactful scenes are one on one or one on two. Francis V Atushi when he walked in on Francis Phone call, it has such a big impact because it gave us his motivation to why he does everything he has.

Fitzgerald rising is very much him one on one with other people, we see more of him and he's such a like cool character. His friendship with Louisa ,though people assume is very One sided, is so much more than what people assume. Fitzgerald recognises Louisa's intelligence, he gives her the space she needs to use it and although she obediently does as he says she's so happy doing it. He knows this, otherwise he would value her so much. One detail I overlooked until I read the manga was Louise's ability. It isn't one that enhances her intelligence, its one that slows down time. Her plans are all based on what she knows and her predictions are always right.

Louisa is on par with Ranpo and because she is so overlooked people fail recognise this.

Fitzgeralds rising is the recognition that Fitzgerald holds people he cares for so highly that you could argue he values others more than himself. Everything he does is for other people, something Gatbsy always did, and to simply call him a character that lacks connections with others is a clear mischaracterisation.

Don't get me wrong, this can be countered with Lucy easily. He dropped her almost instantly and even says that Fitzgerald can discard people easily, yet she still got to stay working for Francis until she betrayed him. Only then does he fully discard her. He knows that everyone has a purpose and he helps them find it, he's had Louisa by his side so it's no doubt that she's been able to research all this and tell Francis what people are good for and he does exactly that.

He gives people purpose.

Fitzgerald rising makes me yearn for more Fitzgerald content, which we do get in the form of Francis vs Nathaniel and Atushi seeking help from Fitzgerald, sure he guild trips Atushi into agreeing to get Yosano to heal Margaret because she's the only person to stop Nathaniel. Yet, his actions comes from a place of protection.

To make me love Fitzgerald and BSD even more would be adding Nick Carraway and Earnest Hemingway because quite frankly I would explode and die and cry and giggle and sob and go absolutely crazy. There's so much to explore with these two potential characters, Nick being someone who admires Francis and can be hired into the new guild and Earnest being a counter to Francis, the potential is endless.

I would expect that if they chose to add Nick, then Fitzgerald would be meeting his end: going off The Great Gatsby.

If they chose to add Hemingway, then I would expect that he would either be just another person wanting him dead. He would probably be teaming up with John Steinbeck to expose Francis. This would introduce us to a darker side of Francis, a side that has only ever been mentioned and not actually seen.

There's so much more I could talk about, like the wedding ring and the possible theory that Zelda has died or divorced Francis and how that links into Author Fitzgerald. The relationship between Fitzgerald and Hemingway that has hints of homosexual feelings: Who would be the Daisy equivalent because Tom Buchanan is a Canon character to BSD, T.J Eckleburgs role beyond just being someone Fitzgerald saved.

However, I have a tenancy to ramble so much nobody can even recognise or remember what I started of saying in the first place. Therefore, I will leave it here.

My final words: Fitzgerald needs more recognition and to be seen beyond funny money man.

#bsd guild #bsd #bsd fitzgerald #bsd francis #the guild bsd #bsd rant #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd louisa may alcott #bsd eckleburg

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oftatteredwings · 1 year

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⸻ NICK ROBINSON. HE/THEY / have you ever heard of RADIOACTIVE by imagine dragons, well, it describes EVAN PHILLIPS to a tee! the twenty-eight year old, and BARTENDER AT THE WOLFE’S DEN was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say HE/THEY is/are more quick-tempered or more BROADMINDED instead? anyway, they remind me of a fresh start, running away from almost everything, tobacco stained nails, an honest smile and scuffed up timberland boots, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

time in notting hill ; 9 years.

tw: body dysmorphic disorder, alcohol abuse, violence, enbyphobia

ABOUT.

Name: Richard Evan Phillips Age: Thirty-eight Date of Birth: 10th May 1995 Birthplace: Mayfair, London, UK Occupation: Bartender at the Wolfe’s Den Romantic/sexual orientation: Biromantic/bisexual

Evan, or Richard as he was known then, was brought up in London’s Mayfair to a family that had more money than they knew what to do with. Every single one of the Phillips children was spoiled beyond belief, growing up thinking that they could have whatever they wanted. It didn’t make for the most polite of people.

High school age meant Eton and the point in Evan’s life where they began to start questioning things about themselves. They didn’t feel entirely comfortable in their skin, but the place they were living now probably wasn’t the best place to voice that.

So instead, he acted out, became callous and cruel, developed quite the attitude —- something he had very much picked up from his father. He used his money for absolutely everything and as a way to get ahead in life.

In the end it didn’t work, it wasn’t the person that Evan wanted to be, so instead they began to focus on their school work.

By the time he reached sixteen, he’d found a new passion: partying. Okay, not exactly partying, more drinking himself into oblivion. He would be left unconscious ( as good as dead ) by friends, who didn’t care for him, only for his money. It was no life, not really. He drank to forget, to curb the confusing thoughts swimming around in his head.

Their destructive behaviour continued on over a couple of years. Word getting back to their teachers, senior staff and his parents, trouble following them absolutely everywhere.

Things got out of hand shortly after that and nights out ended up violent. His friend was caught up in a lot of unsavoury stuff and Evan found themselves in a mess, the police knocking on his family home’s door. Shortly after that his parents began to pull away, there was talk of his trust fun being cut off.

During the Easter holidays that followed, they made the choice to speak to their family about some of the thoughts they’d been having while away, the confusion about their gender that seemed to be taking over. Rather quickly they were shut down, both of Evan’s parents keen to move the subject on. There was no support there.

By summer an incident and a major misunderstanding during a night out left him with someone else's blood on his hands. He was kicked out of Eton, his was kicked out of his home, trust fund taken away entirely. For his father this was the perfect excuse to get rid of the child who went against everything that he believe in. Quite simply, Evan was no longer wanted.

For a short while they lived from couch to couch before eventually settling down in their cousin, Andy’s place, very gradually making a new life for themselves. They’ve been in Notting Hill ever since.

There is still a small part of him that screams spoilt rich kid, but he is trying to break away from that, to really discover who he is —- something that finally seems to be working now he’s twenty-eight.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

- siblings (0/4). - cousin who took evan in. ( andy imanuel. ) - roommate. ( rory conor. ) - close friends. - old school friends from eton. - exes.

#✧ evan ( about )#nottinghillintro #body dysmorphic disorder tw #alcohol abuse tw #violence tw #enbyphobia tw

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crackedfm · 1 year

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muse name. mikey hargrove fandom. stranger things faceclaim. dacre montgomery / nick robinson (verse dependent) important links. verses - headcanons - mains & exclusives

MAIN VERSE - ABOUT.

full name. michael anderson hargrove

nicknames. mikey

gender & pronouns. cis male, he/him

sexual orientation. homosexual

age. verse dependent, 18-22

dob. march 29

astrological sign. aries

place of birth. california

personality traits. loyal, stubborn, protective, confident, irresponsible, impulsive, addictive personality type.

tw. death, physical, emotional and sexual abuse, drugs, alcohol.

notes.

i will not write mikey as anyone’s billy hargrove twin, other than breakthings’s billy.

when the fc being used is nick robinson, mikey is instead billy’s cousin, and i will write this against any billy. please read this verse information here.

growing up in california wasn’t too bad. sure, he didn’t like it as much as his brother did but it was somewhere he felt like he could leave the house and actually escape. it was huge. one turn and he could be heading in the direction of an out... but to a little boy, that thought was perhaps more terrifying than what went on at home. the older twin boy to neil and lori hargrove, but billy was always their mothers favourite. before she left, they would go surfing together or on days out to get billy out of the house and away from neil. lori made no effort with mikey, who didn’t enjoy the same things as billy and her, and instead left him at home with neil. she knew he was abusive, but to her getting one son out of the house for a little while was enough.

whenever they would go out surfing (and then to dinner afterwards), neil would invite his friends over to drink, smoke and gamble. it was always worse when his father had been drinking, and it took a disgustingly small amount of time for him to get his friends involved. his father never sexually abused him, but he didn’t put a stop to the abuse that mikey went through at the hands of his friends. it was only a year or so after it started that lori left, and mikey hated her for not taking them with her. the boy could even understand if she only took billy, but she left both and ran, leaving them in a household full of abuse.

years later, when they were seventeen, neil met recently divorced susan mayfield and the boys, plus susan’s daughter max, packed up and moved to hawkins, indiana. it was a shitty little town, where everyone knew everyone and with that dooming sensation of having no escape... but it was better than all the reminders that california offered him. the physical abuse from neil still continued, and still no one did a thing about it. mikey stood up to him more than billy did, though he didn’t care about his own beatings, he just wanted to stop billy’s. he would always step in to protect his brother... especially when he realised no one else was going to.

when billy was killed at starcourt mall, mikey went off the deep end. no matter how bad things had gotten before, he knew they wouldn’t get to an all time low because he would always have billy. he didn’t even think about what his life would be like without his twin until he was forced to face that brutal reality. mikey mourned billy, in his own way. after that day you would never see him sober, he would always be intoxicated in one way or another. if it wasn’t alcohol, it was drugs or both at the same time. he would go out and party to forget his grief, and sleep around as a fuck you to the daddy that left as soon as one of his sons died.

months later, he was informed that billy was not dead and had been in a coma, held in a lab so that they could study him, but they weren’t getting anything useful from him any longer and so they were going to be releasing him to the care of the local hospital. mikey sat by his twins side for months before billy woke up, barely even leaving to shower and still perpetually smelling of booze. he was terrified that they would switch his twins life support off without consent, having heard what a lost cause the doctors and nurses thought that billy was. if he wasn’t there, he made sure someone that cared enough was. he was still destroying himself, right up until the day that billy opened his eyes. he helped get billy rehabilitated, which in turn kicked his habits but now billy is all healed up and doesn’t need mikey anymore, he finds himself struggling. old habits die hard, and with nothing else to fill his time with he’s finding it more and more difficult to resist the call of his old vices.

#⤷ mikey hargrove; all #⤷ mikey hargrove; biography #⤷ mikey hargrove; main verse #⤷ mikey hargrove; verses #abuse tw #alcohol tw #death tw #drugs tw #⤷ verses; all

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