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[flowercrowngods]

based on an idea i had about steve getting a bad migraine from the sudden bloodloss after kas feeds from him

post-canon, steddie don't like each other, hermit kas, depressed brain injury steve, kinda gloomy, anxiety & compulsions

Steve cuts the engine with a sigh, feeling heavy and alien, like a lone survivor in a ghost town. He’s not a lone survivor, and Hawkins isn’t technically a ghost town because there’s still enough of them here to build it back up or to watch it crumble and cave in on itself, front row seats to the fourth wave of destruction. 

Maybe the real ghost is Steve, actually, floating through his days just waiting for his brain to decide it’s had enough. Just waiting for the perpetual ringing in his ears to rise in pitch and frequency and for his skull to fucking crack open from the never ending waves of the never ending buzz.

Robin asks him about it a lot, notices how he will stop and listen to his body on every inhale that feels slightly wrong, or every movement that’s just a little too fast or just a little too sudden, the blood rushing into his head or out of it, the doctor’s words ringing in tune with the tinnitus: You watch that head of yours, young man, and do not hesitate to call emergency services when the headache won’t stop after a few hours, or when anything feels off, you hear me? 

The truth is, he barely heard him then. Blood was roaring in his ears, the tinnitus still quiet, but his hearing still dull from impact and screams and shock wave after shock wave of the world sewing itself back together. 

He sighs again, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel and trying to catch his breath. Taking stock of his head, the heartbeat he can only feel in his hands right now and nowhere near his temples, and the quiet little tap tap tap of his finger nails hitting the leather, wanting to make sure he can hear it. Wanting to make sure he doesn’t imagine the sound. 

Always fucking needing to make sure. 

Soon, he breathes a little steadier, convincing himself that getting out of the car won’t be the last thing he’ll ever do. It’s so stupid, too, that fear, all that anxiety living inside him just waiting to boil and spill over until he does something stupid just to spite it.

The cool breeze hits his face, working in tandem with his calming breaths to alleviate his obsessive thought spirals, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he does nothing but breathe for a minute there. 

He’s up. He’s standing. He can walk through the forest to the vamp’s hiding place, it’s fine. It’s fine. Although standing so suddenly makes him aware that he hasn’t eaten much today, too busy hating everything about this town and helping to rebuild it anyway. 

Forgetting to eat and drink is another thing that’s new to him. There’s quite a few things he forgets a lot, but those are the worst. Robin is always on his ass about that, but at some point he stopped telling her. It feels like he’s stopped telling her a lot of things. Maybe that’s something else that comes with severe brain injury, young man. 

He feels plenty guilty about it at least — but not enough to tell her about all the horrible things that are happening to him, or the horrible things he thinks are happening to him. The Upside Down is gone, Vecna is dead. These bad thoughts, they’re all him. But knowing that doesn’t fucking help.

Pushing away from the car and turning around to lock it, Steve decides to wallow in self pity no longer and to just get on with it. As much as he hates it. As much as part of him wants to just go home and claim that he forgot about that, too. 

It’s no secret that Steve never liked Eddie. The boy’s a hypocrite, he’s loud, he’s annoying, and he just likes to shame people as publicly as possible, spitting proclamations of conformity and sticking it to the Man while at the same time turning anarchy into despotism under the guise of rebellion — and he’s the dictator. 

Or, he was. And Steve never cared about him or his larger than life attitude that was worse than any of the smiles Steve ever wore to fit in in high school. Steve mostly ever just wanted Munson to shut up and eat his lunch, stop pretending he’s better than any of them just because he liked different things.

Although it wasn’t even about liking other things, it was only ever about disliking. And shaming and denouncing. Steve always wondered what kind of a miserable life that dude must have lived, shaping himself not from what he liked but from what he hated. Creating an identity that left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth because it was so fragile and contradictory and, frankly, so fucking annoying. 

Still, he’d never wished for Munson to get involved in all of this. He’d never wished for the man to die. And then to come back only to be turned into some kind of vampire, doomed to live an even worse existence than he did as a human, hidden away in some shabby cabin. 

Steve feels a little bad for him now. For Eddie. Or Kas, as the kids like to call him because he never reacts to his name anymore, more monster than human these days, although Dustin is sure they can domesticate him into becoming his old self again. 

“Like Dart, remember?”

“Dude, don’t compare our friend to your sick little creature.” That was Lucas, affronted and annoyed. Steve could relate, although… 

“You gotta admit, he’s kind of a sick little creature himself now.” 

“Steve!” they’d both yelled, and Steve just playfully shoved their heads back before going to grab a coke from the fridge.

And Kas, because vampires are apparently a thing even after the end of the world, needs blood to survive. The forests are void of animals most of the time, like nature has decided to give Hawkins an ultimatum before returning and the day hasn’t come yet. Maybe it’s something to do with electromagnetic fields, or maybe it was something else entirely leading them all to safety while Hawkins was turned into a war zone. Either way, there is nothing for him to feed here. 

Kas can’t just stalk around the woods at night and drink up a deer or two. Nor can he go rob the blood bank at the hospital, they’re running low as it is anyway. That left them all with only one option that Mike so disgustedly pointed out back then: Kas needs their blood. And Steve feels just bad enough for him to play along. 

So now he is out here playing blood bank for the monstrous version of a guy he never even liked, and his hometown is in shambles, and his head might actually sign the fuck off at any moment now, apparently. 

Things are going great. 

Saving the world is just… really fucking isolating. 

Still he has no choice but to announce his presence with a firm knock on the door, the pattern easy but memorable. 

“This is Steve,” he adds as his hand falls to his side, waiting. 

Kas always takes a while to come out and open the door, hiding away from any noise like a feral cat. Steve can kind of relate — he and Kas don’t have the best relationship either. He has no idea how sudden vampirism works, but just like feral cats will be able to tell when someone wants to hurt them and when instincts should be kicking in, Kas seems to realise how little Steve wants to be here and help him. How little he wants to have his blood sucked out of his body leaving his limbs to feel numb and uncomfortably tingly. 

Eventually, though, the door opens with a creek, just enough for a pair of eyes — too large, too wide, too wild — blink back at him. Steve just lifts his eyebrows, really kind of not in the mood to deal with this barely human vampire and his absolute lack of learning curve about this situation.

When he’s sure Kas has blinked at him for long enough now, he pushes open the door and shoves inside rather roughly, immediately feeling bad when he hears the slight whimper. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets again and trying not to grimace at the stale, disgusting air in the cabin. “Jeez, you really gotta open a window every once in a while. Thought vamps were supposed to have heightened senses or some shit.” 

Kas growls at him, mirroring Steve’s move and shoving past him this time, his shoulder slamming into Steve’s with painful strength. Glowering at the stupid vampire, he rubs at his shoulder before crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Listen, buddy, I can just leave and have you deal with your hunger, okay? No big deal for me, I even get to keep my blood.” 

Kas snaps at him, showing his fangs and crossing his arms, too; a laughable copy of Steve’s own stance. 

“Or you could just cut the crap and get on with it so I actually can leave again without taking shit from the peanut gallery. Your choice.” 

The huff that follows is so indignant, Steve wonders if that could be what gets Kas out of Munson’s body and let the human win over the monster. Maybe indignation and annoyance is what will break the spell eventually, lift the curse just enough for Munson to get back into his old habit of monologising and spouting nonsense out of that big mouth of his. 

Steve is half tempted to try, but he really does want to just go home and lie on his large couch with no sensory input whatsoever, tuning out the world and his anxieties that might be about to turn into compulsions just for him to gain a little control over everything again. So he squares his shoulders and takes off his jacket before tilting his head to the side, allowing Kas full access to his neck. 

It’s always a little scary but still oddly fascinating, filling him with that same rush that came with witnessing all the supernatural shit over the past few years. Kas is the last remnant of all that, and somehow, buried beneath piles of rubble and trauma and the teenager he had to give up on being, Steve feels weirdly protective of that. 

Not of Eddie. Of Kas. Of the monster that lies dormant. Of the last bit of danger in his life, because he doesn’t know how to live without it anymore — so much so that he has to make it up.

Maybe it’s a symptom of his self destructive tendencies, as Robin would call it. But Steve might be as fascinated with the vampire as Robin is with fire; so she doesn’t get to have a say in this.

There is always a strange intimacy in the way Kas approaches him. Slowly, carefully. Like a hunter his prey. Steve doesn’t feel like prey, not really, but a part of him wants to. A part of him needs to be prey again, if only for those instincts that manifest with a perpetual tremor and a restless feeling in his chest to be of use again. If only so he can have a point again. Something to fight that’s outside oh his own head. 

Now, his point is standing still entirely and feeling those chapped but warm lips trail up and down his throat a little before Kas finds the right spot that won’t really hurt Steve, the right spot that will make it all go by quickly and without any hiccups. 

Still he shivers, like always, and Kas holds him close when he finally bites down. Like always. 

He stands motionless as he feels his blood flow alternating, rushing in his ears and his head, his heart thump-thump-thumping, putting up a fight against the strange intrusion. He hardly even breathes at all, focusing instead on his body and burying his finger nails in his palm for five seconds before releasing his hands and repeating the process three times before he gets it right. 

But then his head is pulsing, his heartbeat slowing down as his vision briefly blacks out in the same way it does when he gets up too quickly, and his heart falls. It’s too much. Too sudden. 

“Kas,” he says, but the vampire doesn’t hear him, drinking more and more of the blood that must be so thick with how little he’s had to drink today — something he only just remembered. “Kas,” he says again, more urgently this time; but still the vampire drinks. 

And where before Steve had a clear vision of the door in the dark room — the light of day streaming in through the cracks and framing it almost mystically —, it’s spotty now. Just slightly off. Like something is missing but his brain is working overtime to complete the picture anyway, reducing the blind spot to merely an illusion. But Steve knows what’s happening. He knows what the sudden pulsating of his head means, especially when it’s followed by his vision just going AWOL on him.

No, he thinks as the situation really settles in, and he begins to push Kas away. Not like it matters anyway now; the damage is done. No, no, no, no, fuck! 

He frantically shoves at the vampire now, blinking against the blind spot even though he’s painfully aware it won’t help. Kas breaks away from him, wiping his mouth and smearing his face and the back of his hand with Steve’s blood. If he looks just right, he can’t even fucking see it. 

Heart falling further, Steve buries his hands in his hair and pulls, hoping that by some kind of miracle he can just pull the migraine out of his head before it can really settle. It’s his only chance. He can’t drive like this, he shouldn’t walk like this, and soon he won’t be able to do anything at all. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” be hisses, hearing the edge of desperation in his own voice and caring very little about that right now. 

Kas is on him again in a second, and Steve waves him off, tries to shove him away but the vampire is stronger and persistent. 

A high keening sound builds in Kas’s chest, and Steve knows he doesn’t really speak, doesn’t really use his words, ever — maybe he doesn’t know how. But the keening sounds more like a whine, and the way he pulls at Steve to look at him is as much an indicator of worry as he’s going to get.

But Steve doesn’t want Kas’s hands on him, wants to just get out and away before the pain comes. So he takes another step back and holds up his hands, hoping that the vampire will just fucking take a hint. 

A little too quickly and a little too frantic, Steve shakes his head, his eyes flitting about the room to see if there’s still pieces of it missing or if phase two is about to start. He has about twenty minutes left before his body will be composed of nothing but skull-splitting pain that is only equal to someone ramming actual nails into his head — and even that would be preferable right noe, because at least that pain he wouldn’t need to explain. Or justify.

Another keening sound interrupts Steve's burgeoning spiral, and his eyes land on Kas, who really looks like a kicked puppy right now. 

"I gotta go," he says, voice a little unsteady with apprehension and panic, but just as he's about to rush out of the cabin, Kas crosses his path and won't let him move. 

A strong hand lands on his chest, and Steve really, really doesn't want to deal with that right now. He tries again, tries with more force to sidestep and push past him, but Kas won't let him budge. 

"Let me go." But Kas doesn't let up. "Kas. Please. You gotta let me go, I gotta get home, I—“ 

The first flash of white in his peripheral vision catches him off guard, moving his focus away from the clawed hand on his chest and toward the flickering line that cuts through the left side of his vision right now. 

Curious or worried or maybe just really fucking stupefied at having Steve act so weirdly, Kas inclines his head and ducks to catch Steve's eyes. 

"Move," Steve says again, as assertive as he can manage with his brain and body scattered between following the flickering lights that are invisible to everyone else and the pain that is about to consume him, leaving him incapacitated for several hours at least.

Instead of moving out of Steve's space and allowing him to leave, Kas shoves him backwards with that superhuman strength he has now, forcing Steve to stumble back helplessly. Fear rises in him again, and it's a different flavour this time that mixes horribly well with the anxiety and apprehension and all the waves and waves of blinding panic he feels out of nowhere almost all the time now. 

His knees buckle when they hit something rather violently, and then he's falling, landing on the worn couch with a breathless gasp, his instincts running wild. He needs to fight, he needs to run, he needs to get home and be safe and get the fuck away from this monster who won't let him go now. Steve doesn't know Kas as someone who will just take what he wants, but, well, he is Munson, in a way. So that tracks. 

But instead of attacking him, instead of going for his neck again and sucking the rest of his blood, instead of beating Steve to a pulp to keep him pliant and unmoving and turn him into some sort of personal livestock, Kas just... sits down next to him. Hands in his lap. Worried look trained on Steve, who needs to catch his breath and calm down.

"Hurt." 

It startles Steve. Kas has never spoken to him. But what’s more, Steve shouldn't be that obvious. He doesn't want to be that obvious, especially about hurting and being hurt. 

So he shakes his head, his hands coming up to press into his eyes, hoping to get rid of the flickering lights even though he knows that once they stop, the pain will come; and it will come badly. 

"'M not hurt," he says, lying through his teeth and the heel of his hand. "I just gotta go home." 

"Hurt," Kas says again, and it's more assertive this time, less of a question. Like he's telling Steve rather than asking. Like he's making him understand. 

He reminds Steve a little of Robin in that regard, and he almost has to smile. He would, too, if he wasn't so aware that it would become a horrible grimace, wavering and pale even by vampire hermit standards. 

So he sighs instead, letting his hands fall into his lap and wringing his fingers. There are about ten, maybe fifteen minutes left. Not enough to get anywhere safe on foot, and he sure as hell ain't driving when his vision is halfway through its rendition of a TV without signal, zig-zagging in white and red and green, flickering and flaring and leaving him a little disoriented even when all he's doing is sitting on that dusty old couch. 

"Hurt," Kas repeats for the third time, and Steve tenses, ready to snap at him to shut up, that he's not hurt yet but will be any minute now and that Kas should really just shut the fuck up and leave himself if he won't let Steve go anywhere. 

But looking at those wide eyes, he doesn't snap. He deflates. His shoulders fall and his eyes close, which only makes the flickers worse, he feels.

“I’m… I’m gonna have a migraine," he sighs, letting that hang in the air between them, letting the words take up the whole room and suffocate him while he knows that they won't touch Kas. That he won't understand. Nobody does. 

It's just a headache, Steve, get over it. 

They leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and he's just waiting for the huff to come. 

But it doesn't come. Instead, Kas just keeps looking at him; same worried expression, same unobtrusive posture, same everything. Right. He probably doesn't know jackshit about what that's supposed to mean. 

So Steve explains. “I, well. I kinda can't really see right now, but that'll pass. That's when the pain comes. I won't want to move. No light. No noise. No nothing. And all I can do about it is wait it out, which is why I need you to let me leave..." 

It's one of those moments where he hates that he's the only one of their group with a license; that he can't just radio with a code red and have someone come get him no questions asked. 

"I just wanna go home, man," he sighs, hating his voice for the weak whine around the edges. 

A beat passes between them, and Steve pretends like he's not counting the seconds. Like he doesn't notice that the flickering zigzag line is getting smaller and dimmer, and that agony is imminent. 

"Here," Kas says then, and somehow it's both an offer and a command. "You. Here."

Steve blinks, the words not really translating through the tired fog of his brain. 

"Huh? Sorry, uh, what?" 

"You," Kas says, shuffling closer to him, like that sort of helps him translate what it is he wants to say. 

"Me." 

Kas nods, then motions around the room and pats the couch cushion, releasing a cloud of dust from it. "Here."

“You—“ Steve frowns. "You want me to stay here?"

The nod is decisive and in another world Steve would have called it eager, with the way Kas is shuffling on the spot. 

"Kas," Steve sighs, rubbing his face, not quite sure how to make the vampire explain that it's gonna be bad. Really, really bad. The flickering shimmer is already waning, and phantom pains are already setting in, settling along his skull like little pinpricks of warning. 

A clawed hand reaches for his wrist, making Steve flinch away, but Kas doesn't hurt him. He pulls Steve’s hand away from his face almost gently, slowly, and makes sure Steve looks at him. 

"Safe." And he looks so genuine about it. He looks like he knows what that word means. "Safe." 

With a sigh, Steve accepts his fate. Kas isn't gonna let him go anytime soon, and at this point Steve really doesn't want to face the gloomy weather outside, stuck as it is somewhere between drizzle and downpour and so endlessly grey for days. 

Still he feels pathetic about it. Vulnerable. Exposed. Like a last bastion falling, the castle walls crumbling, the fragile house of cards finally falling, because suddenly this agony isn't something he keeps only to himself. 

Even if it's only Kas who witnesses it. Kas, who’s endured worse than that, Steve knows. Brainwashing, manipulation, the agony of shaping human into vampire so excruciating his mind has gone into hiding still. 

"Okay," Steve breathes at last, pretending that his voice didn't break on that single word. "Okay."

Kas hums, the sound resembling more a gurgle than anything else, and before Steve knows what's happening, cold hands are pulling him up and off the couch. 

"Jesus," he mumbles, barely catching his footing and pulling away from Kas's grasp, but following nonetheless, not even thinking about fleeing now. "I'm coming, I'm coming, man, don't touch me." 

Miraculously, Kas does stay away, walking just one step ahead of Steve, turning towards him every two steps to make sure he's still following. It reminds Steve of a mama duck herding her ducklings across the street and making sure they're all still there. It's weirdly endearing. 

"Why do you even care?" 

He doesn't get an answer, but that's no surprise, and he doesn't really mind either. It was more about wondering, about putting that question out there and letting it take up space for future contemplation. 

Kas leads him to an adjoining room, the north-facing windows all barred shut, ripped and moth-eaten curtains drawn to block out the last of the light. Right. Fitting, for a vampire's lair. 

The bed in the middle of the far wall is surprisingly large, though, and looks surprisingly soft. It's unmade, but that's just as well. There are no belongings in the room otherwis that Steve can make out, the framed pictures on the wall look as dusty as the rest of the cabin, so they can't belong to Kas. Or maybe he likes them enough to keep them, to claim them as his own now. 

It’s a heartbreaking thought. 

Stupidly and out of nowhere, Steve wonders if he could take care of this cabin. Dust it and clean it and only fill it with things Kas likes. Maybe things Munson used to like — surely the kids would know how to go about that. Or Wayne. 

He's about to ask; about the pictures, about the stuff, about Wayne — if he's been around lately, if he's still telling stories to bring back the dormant Eddie parts of his modified and manipulated mind.

But just as he's about to turn to the vampire and ask, the blinding flickers disappear from his field of vision in the dark room, and within seconds something inside his skull bursts, leaving his body awash with pain that nearly has his knees buckling. A whimper escapes him that he tries to steer into a groan, but then his hands are flying to his head and he stops caring about how he expresses this immediate agony to the world. 

Kas is on him again with a whimper, suddenly just as fucking tactile as his once-human form. 

“Don’t touch me,” Steve rasps, wrenching himself free from the gasp once more. He really wishes Kas would stop touching him. "You want me to lie down here, yeah? Take your bed?" 

Kas nods again, looking at Steve with those wide eyes that seem to glow in the dark — or maybe that's his migraine-addled mind seeing things where they aren't, making up for the blind spot and the flickering. 

Steve looks away, the motion hurting his entire face, and he closes his eyes as pins and needles are moving along the inside of his face, pricking up against the skin but never breaking through. 

"Right then," he whispers, his voice barely audible and still too loud, making his ears click and pressure collect around them, making him wonder if they're going to burst. "'M gonna lie down." 

Struggling with the heavy blanket, Steve is close to giving up and just lying on top of it, but Kas is quick to help him once he realises that Steve needs it. He pulls back the blanket, still looking so damn stricken about everything, like he's genuinely worried about Steve. It doesn't make sense. 

He doesn't have the strength for a Thanks or even a smile, but he nods just once, just barely, before sluggishly falling onto the bed and fumbling with the blanket once more. Every movement hurts. Every twitch of a muscle is too much, and just moving his pinkie is enough to douse his body in never-ending pain that travels from his skull all the way down.

Something Steve has always wondered is why migraines make his body shut down like that, leaving him in a state where all he can do is lie down and fall into a near-catatonic limbo until the pain has lifted enough to face the rest of the world again. Fighting inter-dimensional monsters and posing as a feast to demonic, modified monster bats was also agony. It also made him lose his footing and almost pass out from blood loss and pain, his back scratched open completely where the bats dragged him across rough stone. 

Migraine pains don't really compare to those, though, and it scares him. Because he knows that's all up in his brain. His fucked up, mangled, thrice-concussed fucking brain he never got cared for because the government goons never took them seriously. Never took him seriously. 

And now here he is, lying in a stranger's bed in a pitch-black room that's still somehow too bright, unmoving, too weak to even pull up the blanket, and hoping to pass out from it all. Hoping he won't hallucinate again this time. Hoping that he won't throw up this time, his body convulsing because it knows it shouldn't be feeling like this. 

Throwing up from pain. There's really nothing more fucked up than that. Or, there is. Throwing up from pain and begging an invisible man to make it stop, only to realise hours later that the most painful migraines can also make you hallucinate. 

He doesn't want that. He doesn't want any of that ever again, and certainly not in a strange, dark cabin with a vampire forged from a human he never even liked. 

Tears spring to his eyes, but they're not the kind that'll fall and bring relief. They just stay in the corners of his eyes, his only way to express the waves and flares of pain washing over him, wishing he could just pass out now. 

Kas tucks him in. Steve didn’t know he could do that. It strikes him as extremely non-vampiric even in this state he’s in. Steve doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as blink his eyes open as the pain travels up to his hairline and settles there, flaring over his forehead to his eyes and down to his cheekbones and then up again, a never-ending motion that he never stands a chance to get used to. 

“Safe,” Kas says again, and it zings through Steve’s body with violent force that doesn’t match at all with the gentle tone he’s using. 

Scrunching his forehead to stave off more words, Steve hopes that Kas will take the hint and know to shut up. 

But he has no such luck. 

“Here.” 

“Shhh.” He shakes his head minutely, shushing the vampire with a barely there noise, keeping the damage to a minimal amount. “You can go,” he slurs, trying not to speak at all. “Please.” 

A beat of blessed, blissful silence, before there’s shuffling again. Kas does walk to the door, but then stops in the doorway. Steve doesn’t want to look. 

“No.” Kas sounds surprised about it. Mystified. Like he wants to leave but can’t. 

What?

“Stay. Here.” 

Whatever you do, just please be quiet about it, Steve thinks desperately. Instead of saying any of that, he shushes him again, hoping that the thump he hears means that Kas is sitting on the floor now. Though he doesn’t understand why. 

Why do you even care? 

“Safe,” Kas says again, whispering the word into the room, and it doesn’t zing through Steve this time. 

With Kas refusing to leave and his pathetic state of existence so blatantly on display, and with waves and waves as his nerves fire signals to his overworked and tired brain, more tears sprint to his eyes. And this time they fall. Silently, and without a sob, without even a sniffle of acknowledgment. But they fall. 

And Steve just wants to go home.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @hammity-hammer (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

part 2 here

[bloodinmymilkshake]

Roleplaying with my wife got me thinking about this AU.

What if in one of the parallel universes, when Cassandra was injured, Percy went back for his sister and they were both brought back to the castle. The Briarwoods were going to execute Percy, but Anna Ripley unexpectedly stood up for him (she needed an assistant and was not used to throwing away engineering minds). Delilah planned for Percy to be the one sacrificed by Vecna ​​because she had become attached to Cassandra.

But Ripley had plans to betray the Briarwoods. By letting Cassandra into her plan, using her connections with the revolutionaries and her and Percy's joint inventions, she was able to bring it to life. Cassandra became the rightful ruler of Whitestone, and Anna Ripley became her chief advisor.

Percy was horrified to see revolvers ubiquitous in Whitestone and imagine what consequences this could lead to. He tried to explain this to his sister, but she was completely enchanted by Anna and in love with her. So Percival became a prisoner in his own castle. He was forced to continue developing new weapons, as well as training the Whitestone police and the castle guards.

Anna Ripley soon waged a war for resources with another city-state, and easily subjugated and plundered villages and small towns engaged in mining operations. She built a weapons factory in Whitestone.

Realizing what he had done, Percival fell into depression. When he was about 25-27, he managed to escape from the castle, having no place in the world and not knowing where to go.

Vax, who has never met Percy, wanders the world with his sister, trying to survive and earn them more money. But you can't run from fate, and in pursuit of the artifact, Vex falls victim to a trap in the abandoned temple of the Raven Queen. Having exchanged his sister's life for his service, Vax falls into depression and goes into self-imposed exile. He rebuilds the temple of the Raven Queen in a city almost destroyed by war and lives there near a huge cemetery, helping restless souls, of which there are many here, to go to the afterlife.

After separation from her brother, Vex returns to Singorn, where she reconciles with her father and builds a career in politics.

Percy, looking for a place to stay, accidentally wanders into the Raven Queen's temple and meets Vax. Vax is furious when he learns where Percy is from and who he is. But after listening to him, Vax realizes that Percy is just a victim of circumstances in this story and agrees to give him shelter.

So they gradually fall in love with each other and help each other cope with depression.

[rumriverautos]

Wondering why is the service engine light blinking? Ask an engine repair specialist to check out your vehicle as soon as possible.

[expresscareautomn]

Wondering what causes service engine soon light to come on? Ask an engine repair specialists to check out your vehicle as soon as possible.

[clausenauto]

Wondering what are the causes of engine failure? Recommended engine service will keep your vehicle running strong.

[praxcrown5]

Moments in Time: Chapter 2 (sneak peek)

Should have this done in the very near future, just gotta finish editing the part where it jumps back to Doc and Lightning...

Cycle 9: August 12th, 1936

“Annette?”

A Cadillac series 62 Sedanette looked up from the engine that she had been rebuilding, her striking, Dartmouth green paint hidden beneath a bulky, leather tool belt.  There were splotches of oil and grease all over, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

Idling near the breezeway was a blue Oldsmobile model 30E coupe, one Otis Glenrunner.  Otis was Annette’s father, and patriarch of the once-sizable Glenrunner family in Dawsonville.  He was also the proprietor and chief mechanical engineer of Glenrunner’s All-in-One, a full-service garage and convenience store serving all of Dawson County, Georgia.

“Oi, Pa,” Annette said happily, stowing her tools on the magnetic strips of her tool belt and rolling over to meet him.

He smiled as she nuzzled his front right fender affectionately.  “You know…you should still be resting.”

“I’ve been cooped up for three weeks, Pa,” She pursed her lips “My platin’ has been hard for 24 hours, almost double the recommended time, and this engine ain’t gonna rebuild itself.” She gestured behind her towards a disassembled 221 cubic-inch, flathead V8 that was spread out across the entirety of her workbench.

“Alright, if that’s what ya wanna do…”

“It sure is.” She smiled, broadly.  “It’s so much easier to work on things, now!”  She made a graceful turn before pushing herself as tall as she could with her front suspension.  “I can actually look down into an engine without havin’ to get me up on a lift!”

Otis beamed at her proudly.  Annette had just finished her 11th-year growth spurt, and though he knew right from the start that she would mature into the newest model of the 62-series, he was expecting something more in keeping with her brothers: An egg-crate grill, protuberant hood, big, rounded steel fenders reminiscent of a truck, and large bumpers.  But Annette’s model, the sedanette, was sleek and stylish in a way that he’d only ever seen in Packards and Talbots, with in-line front fenders, a smaller, rounded grille, opulent chrome stylings and gorgeous, upturned fins on her rear fenders…a novel design element that would, undoubtedly, make its way to other makes and models in the future.    

“So…what’cha need?” Annette asked, suddenly, snapping him away from his thoughts. 

“Do ya have a minute to talk?  We…um…” He paused, unsure of how to bring up a topic that he’d been dreading for the last four months.  “…We gotta discuss somethin’ important.”

Annette nodded.  “It’s about me bein’ eleven now, right?”

“Yeah…”

She chuckled.  “I was wonderin’ when you’d be bringin’ it up.” She looked around the garage.  It was Monday and all of Otis’ appointments, thus far, had been quick and easy—oil changes, wheel alignments, and the like.  He didn’t have any afternoon clients, but there was always the possibility that anyone shopping next door could hear them.  “Do you wanna talk about it here, or…?”

“Not here,” He gestured down the breezeway beyond the shop.  “Figure we could talk in the kitchen,” He smirked at her.  “You still craving moss and crab?”

“Moss, more so,” She admitted, sheepishly.  “Crabs are cute…I feel bad every time I gotta eat one.”

Otis chuckled as they started down the hall.  “At least you ain’t craving bitumen...”

Annette laughed and gave her father a playful bump on his front fender.  “Wait…you craved bitumen?  Really?”  Bitumen was the sludge left over from petroleum distillation.  Despite being edible, fresh batches had the same pungent smell and texture as the waste products that their own bodies produced.   

They rolled into the kitchen.  It was a quaintly-decorated space with a single window illuminating wall-to-wall chestnut cabinets, a pantry, marble countertops, a small washbasin-stove combo, and a table large enough to accommodate their whole family at the same time.

As Annette crossed the threshold, she took note of the table and froze, sapphire blue eyes wide in disbelief. 

The entire thing was covered in letters…and they were ALL addressed to her. “What…?”  She gave the older car a questioning look.  

Otis frowned.  “Well, you’re eleven, now…” He averted his gaze.  “Them’s marriage proposals…”

[cienie-isengardu]

Tor Vizsla and “hire your own enemy”type of trap

One of the most ironic details coming from sources focused at conflict between Jaster Mereel (True Mandalorians) and Tor Vizsla (Death Watch) that I will forever find hilarious is that the ideological split happened between Mandalorians Mercenaries...

⤷ source: Jango Fett: Open Seasons #1, 2002

⤷ source: The History of the Mandalorians, Star Wars Insider #80, 2005

⤷ source: The Complete Star Wars Encycopedia, 2008

and then the original source Jango Fett: Open Seasons never showed Tor Vizsla doing any mercenary job.

And sure, this does not cross out the possibility he was a merc in the past who simply changed his ways according to what he thought the Mandalorians should be (warriors / conquerors) or that he didn’t do side jobs between planning how to destroy Jaster & Jango’s group but it is hilarious to know Tor Vizsla - indirectly, but still - hired True Mandalorians to lead them into trap. TWICE!

And so we have KORDA VI and Jaster Mereel’s talk about the mission:

Listen up! Since this is Jango’s first mission as a squad commander, we’re keeping it simple. The job’s a routine extraction mission. Our employer: The Korda Defense Force. Our target: a rookie security squad pinned down by hostile locals on Korda Six. Korda recon suggests only minimal resistance. The natives are poorly armed and have no standing army. The security squad is holed up near our landing zone. Coordinates have been uploaded to your helmet targeting system. This should be easy credits. (Jango Fett: Open Seasons #2, 2002)

Only for True Mandalorians to learn in hard way it was a trap set by Death Watch:

With additional information from Fact Files #124 (2002):

GALIDRAAN seems like the closest thing to mercenary job Vizsla did  - or at least Jango thought it was the case, as he assumed governor of the planet harbored the Death Watch, accusing him of funding their rebuilding (what implies that Tor was working for said man to gain the money)

⤷ source: Jango Fett: Open Seasons #3, 2002

however once Tor revealed himself, the comics made it clear the governor of Galidraan was doing Vizsla’s bidding, not the other way. Tasks like begging Jedi to interfere and save his people from True Mandalorians (whom he hired in the first place)

and this interaction raises a question about the previous scene - did the man was so afraid of Jango Fett or Tor Vizsla whom he supposedly kept under his protection?

Because for me that does not feel a bit Tor was the merc at governor‘s service - and even if this is how their working relationship started, it is hard to see it that way at this certain moment. Tor is the one giving orders and the man in question is complying even if he already regrets being part of Death Watch’s plan to eliminate Jango and his group.

The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia (2008) even further dispels this doubt by stating the governor had been paid by Vizsla to lay a trap for Jango’s Mandalorians:

And you know what is the most hilarious and ironic thing about that? It is not even that Tor Vizsla was tied by sources to Mandalorian Mercs while working solely for his/Death Watch own interest instead just for money as far as original material presented back in 2002 and being the mastermind that TWICE managed to hire True Mandalorians, using their mercenary mindset against them. No, the best part is that Boba Fett did the same. The son of Jango Fett, the supposedly Legacy of Jaster Mereel? He went with Tor’s tactic - set the trap and hire the mercenary you want to kill off, as happened with Jodo Kast in Boba Fett: Twin Engines of Destruction (1997).

The man in question was pretending to be Boba Fett to collect better payment but he wasn’t as good as the older Fett. Once Dengar noted Boba about Jodo’s activity, the Bounty Hunter hired the pretender through the Benelex Guide, gave a localization when the target was supposedly be

and

only for Jodo to walk into a trap and die by Boba Fett’s hand.

There is too little information to tell about Jaster Mereel’s methods, but Jango Fett as far as I know has never pulled a stunt like that. He spent years tracking Death Watch which led him sadly to Galidraan. When he ran away from slavery and settled the score with the Government that called for Jedi assistance, Fett went straight after Tor Vizsla. When he fought Montross, the Mandalorian comrade that betrayed Jaster Mereel on Korda VI, they were both on the same hunt and it was clear sooner than later they would face each other. Meanwhile Boba Fett decided to settle the score with the rival by using Vizsla’s logic: set a trap and lure the mercenary into the environment you control. And either Boba simply came to the same conclusion as Tor did decades ago or Jango - intentionally or not - passed this knowledge to his son. And so I’m laughing at the idea that Boba Fett, the successor of Mandalore Jango Fett and Legacy of Jaster Mereel, carries also Vizsla’s trademark cunning logic and even sort of passed this wisdom to his own granddaughter, Mirta Gev in Legacy of the Force: Sacrifice (2007):

"What's the best way to find another bounty hunter?"

    "Think like him?"

    Fett shook his head and set the speeder down with a thud [...]

    "No," Fett said. "You hire him."

So I guess, Tor Vizsla really got the last laugh at the end of the day if the latest Fett generations are following his logic.

[garysautorepair]

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[muutosarchive]

I BET YOU'D STICK YOUR HEAD IN A FIRE IF I TOLD YA' YOU COULD SEE HELL.. meanwhile, you're too stupid to realize you got a demon stickin' out your ass singing, "HOLY MISS MOLEY, GOT ME A LIVE ONE!"

he's out of the game files. the company shuts down yet again due to jeremy's death, & the corruption of the code and glitchtrap goes between you and his plush containment when necessary. however, you were ready. he's strong but diminished slightly. will grow, but you have time to adapt and develop blocks. you continue to present yourself as the sweet, reluctant little follower. the wide eyed, eager to please little vanny that is under his thumb. making sure you can keep as much of what he doesn't need to know, out of his line of sight. if he knew what was going on, he'd have thrown you away. but you cannot have that. he wins you over. becoming a cult of one, he convinces you you're special and beautiful. he's manipulating you right back. a dance of the twisted, and of two kindred souls.

YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF DRY SPELL I'VE HAD HERE.. total block, total block! BUT BILL? he's okay.

fazbear entertainment, the stain. the wash. you are able to swipe it cheap at an auction with his guidance, and now through you - afton has control of his operation again. he needs you. you are his savior. you are what tethers his plans together... through his possession of you, you've gained skills and proficiency in engineering. you purchase a cheap warehouse using assets and royalty money, and start-up the fazbear funtime service. that which rents out animatronics to birthday parties and other events. it's all to raise money for the mall. you build base animatronics with whatever money you have, and make the skins to cheapen the operation and increase profit. it works, and you also use it to collect remnant as you had previously known he'd conducted through circus baby's rentals, in the past. you collect it, and store it and help afton conduct experiments on metal. minor ones. nothing compared to what would come later. he lives his fantasies through your hands, through your eyes. forces you to be present. to learn from it. to love it. new victims with new life. you've been waiting... you're ready. meanwhile you collect and scam those who send in salvages to gather parts for aftons suit. everything is coming along.

PLEASE BE QUIET, I DON'T WANNA SLIP. OK, one more. you get this right, i'll let ya go. If you get it wrong you are fucked! OK, WHO'S MY FAVORITE MOVIE STAR

you can finally buy the property on the sight of the old pizzeria, that contains his body. finally, since fazbear's fright... you see him for the first time. you're taken by his flesh. actually seeing and being a part of him... the real him. the man who had existed so long ago. it was intimate for you... as was his tutelage. luring, harvesting and killing nine children once the mall opens, while you let his glitch loose in the pizzaplex. posing as a security night guard, a-la undercover boss. he hides your records, replaces you with a fake name and you operate behind the scenes. of course, it takes a while for them to have to strength to excavate down there. it wouldn't be unearthed until the pizzaplex was nearing completion, and freddy fazbear was constructed. patient, until afton was inside all of the animatronics. able to possess strength for you. you are weak, he's told you. he has no strength to give, in his current state. you begin to use freddy to dig you down to the pizzeria, and that's when you set to work. however throughout the final weeks of construction, you begin to have aspirations too big for your bones. you build shrines to the family he should have with you. you understand him. you love him. you begin to rebuild his family for him, mistaking his wants and needs. you made his son. you rebuild evan afton anew! but you use your blocks to hide him. all a surprise. gregory knows who he is, and he's excited. but something happens.

I'm the one who brings the christmas candy. [...] I'M THE ONE WHO BRINGS THE DEVIL'S BRANDY. [...] I'm the one who beats you when you're bad... [...] AND I'M THE ONE WHO LOVES YOU WHEN YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!

you've weeks prior began to take springtrap out for test-runs, with afton's consciousness now shared between you and the electronics. the robots. the pizzaplex has been open for a while, and generating wonderful revenue. it seems the brand's loyalty is refurbished! you've done it. you've brought glory back to his name. and you'll bring him all of that and more. even continuing to collect remnant through the funtime service. you even suggest for afton to work the alligator, aggression and the like already built-in with bot's jealousy. you lead monty to bonnie bowl. and you start monitoring everything as officer vanessa, the night guard. his updated claws giving him the ability to do some tinkering himself, though he still primarily uses her due to the need for his collecting power. infusing himself with remnant as he gains his strength, that you collect. luring children to your secret hide-outs throughout the mall. (one of which he doesn't know about, being the room from fnaf 4). this allows afton his access to you and your abilities to fix his suit, while by the time the pizzaplex is open his glitch is infecting every inch of the systems. her charade means that she has to go to mandated therapy, something that's always been mandatory since henry stole the place from william. something it would look fishy if you didn't implement. but william is present with you during these sessions, as i explain in other posts.

THERE ONCE WAS A WOMAN who lived with her daughter in a cabbage garden; ALONG CAME A RABBIT AND ATE UP ALL THE CABBAGES; the woman said, "Go into the garden and drive out the rabbit. "SHOO-SHOO" SAID THE MAIDEN !

that night on stage gregory had seen the show. their electromagnetic waves interfered with one another, in an anomaly that you can not explain. he and freddy both malfunctioned, and gregory forgot his memories. scared, he retreated and as a result you and afton lost your control over the bear. your most needed asset, and the one who could ruin everything for you. and afton... he's slowly built a relationship with you, he knows you want. sending you flowers, and chocolates from your own login... your journals are filled with your conversations, and he whispers sweet nothings of sadistic manipulation... but he's dependent on you and you know it. he's none too pleased, you must tell him what you've done. his anger rising above you, you must be the one to find him. he sets his control to all four corners of the pizzaplex with his best little bunny on the case. the clock is ticking to try and stop gregory and freddy before it's too late. you cannot lose everything now. you can't.

WHATEVER YOU NEED TO DO, YOU DO IT! there is no wrong. If someone needs to be killed, you kill 'em. THAT'S THE WAY.

PART ONE / OF TWO