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rainydaydream-gal18 · 2 years

Note

Hello! If requests are still open (if not please ignore ) May I request cute parental moments each bad batch member has with Omega with reader included? For example, Tech and Reader helping Omega with her first pilot lesson?

(The Bad Batch) Batch x Reader: Parent Moments

Author's Note: This is such an adorable request!! Thank you for dropping this in my box! I decided to do little blurbs to answer this. You are free to read each one individually as romantic xReader, or view this as a collection of platonic moments.

This got me thinking about the Bad Batch doing dad stuff, and some of that fed into this XD Will probably make a separate post about it.

Enjoy!!!

Hunter: Teaching a New Skill

"Alright, kid. You ready?" Hunter asked, arms folded as he noted the eager expression on young Omega's face. You lifted your hand to cover your lips, stifling a chuckle as she practically bounced up and down.

"I'm ready!"

"First, you've got to ease up. Tracking requires patience and focus."

"Right." Omega relaxed her shoulders. "Patience and focus."

"That's right. It's about recognizing the signs. You may not be able to pick up on all the signs I can because of my...abilities. Neither can ________, as a matter of fact." He stole a glance your way. His tone was serious, instructive, but you caught the slightest taunting glimmer in his eye as he continued. "But she learned in her own way. And her skills aren't half-bad."

You rolled your eyes playfully, kneeling down on one knee to survey the ground in front of you. "Yeah, sure." You eyed a branch from a shrub that had been bent in half, most likely stepped on by something large.

"I didn't know you knew how to track," Omega said in fascination. She tilted her head curiously as your eyes scanned the area.

"With him around-" you motioned vaguely in Hunter's direction "-we hardly need another tracker. But Hunter thought it would be a good idea to have someone else know a thing or two just in case."

"And since you were curious about it before, _______ and I thought we'd teach you what we know." Hunter shifted his stance. He looked to you again. "So, what do you see?"

"Looks like some sort of large leaf-eating mammal just came through here about an hour ago."

Hunter lifted a brow at you. "And?"

"Right. sorry. Two leaf-eating mammals. One of them is much smaller. Perhaps it's a mother and her young."

He nodded in approval at your assessment. "Good."

Omega's eyes widened in amazement. "Wow! _______! You're really good!"

"Not half-bad," Hunter repeated, his smirk growing.

"Yeah," you chuckled. "What he said. So, let's get started. Hunter, if you would?"

"Rule number one to tracking is..."

- - - - - - - - -

Wrecker: Protective

You, Wrecker, and Omega were walking through the woods of a strange planet one of Cid’s jobs had landed the Bad Batch on. Omega practically begged Hunter to give her a job on the mission. He finally agreed to let her scout ahead, but only if she took someone with. You volunteered to go, and for good measure, Hunter ended up sending Wrecker along just as a precaution. Though Tech voiced that the possibility of encountering a danger was minimal, there was no telling exactly what was out there.

“Keep an eye out, kid,” Wrecker said, though his tone suggested he wasn’t the least bit concerned. There was a certain confidence he had as the biggest and strongest member of the squad. It meant that things were less likely to want to go up against him.

“Don’t worry,” Omega replied, narrowing her eyes as she looked around her surroundings. “I’ve got my eyes peeled.”

You were both proud and amused at how seriously she was taking the task that Hunter assigned her. It was a good quality to have. She didn’t scoff or complain at even the most mundane jobs aboard the Marauder. She preferred anything to being left behind.

Suddenly, you heard the quietest snap, like a twig. You looked over at Wrecker to see he had picked up on a presence as well. Omega hadn’t quite caught on yet.

Another snap.

This time, she heard it. She looked over at you with wide eyes, and you put a finger to your lips as a sign to keep quiet. You then motioned for her to return to your side, and she started taking careful steps in your direction.

The kid was brave. She’d already faced many dangers and handled them pretty well, but in that moment, the worry was evident. She didn’t like the unknown. After some of the things you’d all faced, could you blame her?

And then the threat revealed itself.

It was a beast of some sort, something Tech had warned about in passing. He’d said that the likelihood of them attacking was very low as they were mostly nocturnal. The creature bared its sharp teeth in a fearsome snarl.

You closed the gap between you and Omega in an instant, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her behind you. The creature bounded toward the two of you huddled together, but its was stopped dead in its tracks by Wrecker, whose shoulder collided with the beast in a hard tackle to knock it away.

He drew his blaster and planted his boots in the ground, shielding you and Omega from the danger, and took aim. “Hey,” he growled. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size instead?”

The creature raked its cold eyes over you and Omega once more, most likely debating whether its prey was worth the risk of dealing with Wrecker. It lashed its tail furiously and gave another loud snarl.

Wrecker took one step closer, and it stepped back.

It finally decided to abandon the hunt. The beast turned and sauntered back into the forest, leaving the three of you alone.

Wrecker let out a hearty laugh. “Smart animal. Knew better than to tangle with me!”

A big smile spread across your face. “Thank you, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Omega said. She breathed a sigh of relief, the fear leaving her features and instead being replaced by wonder and admiration for her big brother. “That was amazing!”

- - - - - - - - -

Tech: Bickering

“Very good, Omega,” Tech praised the young Bad Batcher for her ability to follow his instruction. She beamed at the note of approval in his tone. “What next?”

“We take a look at the systems, make sure everything’s operational.” She squinted at the collection of warning lights flashing across the dash. Her lips formed a small frown. “There are a lot that aren’t…”

“Critical systems are,” he said, raising his index finger pointedly. “That’s what’s important.”

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you, swiveling your chair in a failed attempt to hide your humor from the pilot. Tech looked in your direction curiously.

“What’s so funny?” Omega asked, amusement creeping into her tone at hearing your laughter snowball.

“Oh, nothing,” you wheezed

“I believe ________ finds humor in how I maintain the Marauder.”

You clutched your stomach. “Sorry. It’s just- you’re teaching her bad habits. We really shouldn’t have so many alerts going off.”

Tech’s voice remained even. “Numerous events and projects have prevented Echo and I from doing proper maintenance.”

“Right, right. I’m sorry.”

Tech held your gaze for another few seconds while you bit your lip to try and cover another laugh. His tone was still calm, though you detected that hint of underlying sass. “I don’t suppose you’d like to assist in repairs? Seeing that it is a concern of yours?”

“I’m just saying,” you replied, internally oooohing at his passive-aggressive comment, “that under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t advise Omega to take off with that many alerts.”

“Critical systems are unaffected.”

Omega glanced between the two of you.

“I know, but-” You sighed, grumbling, “I think I will make some repairs. Where’s the toolkit?”

“Maybe Tech and I could help?” Omega spoke up helpfully. “This way, Tech could show me more about the ship, and we can get caught up with repairs.”

“Excellent idea, Omega,” Tech chimed in.

“Yeah, sounds good!” You exchanged looks with Tech, all sass forgiven and forgotten, before diving into the lesson.

- - - - - - - - -

Echo: Fashion Show

“Hey, Echo!”

He looked up from his data pad at the sound of Omega’s usual chipper greeting. You boarded the ship close behind her and waved. Both of you carried a few beaten-up bags from your trip to the market.

“Hey there,” he said with a smile. “Get anything good?”

“Yes! _______ helped me find some armor!”

“At least for now,” you chimed in. “Until we find something more suitable. The kid needed it.”

Echo nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s see it then.”

Omega exchanged looks with you, her eyes alight with excitement, happily taking the second bag and hurrying over to her room. While she got ready, Echo turned to you. His brow furrowed in a look of confusion.

“How’d you manage this? We don’t exactly have a lot of credits to spare after that last job ended badly.”

“I have my ways.” Your tone was cryptic, but he didn’t miss the glint in your eye or the pendant that was missing from your neck.

“_______….” he began, concerned.

“Don’t worry about it,” you insisted, giving him a gentle nudge. “She needs this more. The kid comes first. Besides, you saw how excited she is.”

Just then, Omega emerged from her room, donning her new (slightly used) armor that you helped her pick out at the merchant’s table. She held out her arms to show it off as she walked over.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Echo nodded in approval. “You look like a Bad Batcher.”

He was right. The pieces of armor had been scrubbed as clean as it could, though it had its fair share of scuff marks and scratches from previous use. She looked battle-ready.

“It does look pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

You tilted your head to the side. “I’m afraid those boots might be a tad too big.”

“They’re perfect,” she insisted. “Oh! I have to show Echo the cloak!” She climbed back into her room, and you and Echo both shared a laugh.

- - - - - - - - -

Crosshair: The Pet He didn’t Want

“Look, Crosshair!” Omega beamed as she held the pup up towards the sniper. “We found a lost voorpak. Isn’t she cute?”

The pup gave a little bark and wriggled around, sticking its tongue out. Crosshair’s already stern face twisted into a look of mild disgust. “It’s ugly.” The pup looked unaffected as he turned to walk out of range, but Omega followed him, holding the voorpak even higher.

“She is going to be named Brandi. And she is adorable.”

“We could use another girl around here,” you joked, resting your hands on your hips. “Come on, Cross. Even you have to admit it’s kind of cute.”

He sat himself down on a crate and began to inspect his rifle, most likely for cleaning. “Don’t tell me we’re keeping that thing.”

“Hunter said we can look after her until we find a suitable home,” Omega replied victoriously.

“How wonderful,” he muttered.

You and Omega exchanged looks, laughing, and took the pup back toward her room so it could scurry around for a bit.

Over the next few days, the voorpak began growing on the Bad Batch. Even Hunter and Echo would smile in amusement watching Omega play with the creature. Wrecker joined in. But Crosshair preferred to keep his distance. He would roll his eyes and offer up complaints if the creature didn’t do its business outside or was in his way.

It was one afternoon that the others went out for supplies. Omega asked you to keep an eye on Brandi for a while, to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble, since you were staying behind to do a few tasks around the Marauder. Crosshair would be around, but of course, he didn’t like Brandi.

The pup followed you around the ship, barking playfully and smothering you with kisses every time you had to kneel down or crawl into a small space. It was a few hours in, and suddenly, you realized that she wasn’t at your heels.

“I’d better check on her and make sure she’s still on board!” you commented to yourself. So, you set your tools down and went looking. There weren’t too many places for her to hide, but you kept your eyes peeled just in case.

Faint yip-yip sounds coming from down the hall caught your attention. You followed it cautiously, realizing quickly that Crosshair had been down there organizing gear. You didn’t want him to be bothered by Brandi, so you hurried your pace. But when you reached the doorway, you were met with a most unexpected sight.

Crosshair was sitting on a crate, staring down at little Brandi, who was hopping around in circles. There was a small huff of air, like a brief chuckle, and Crosshair leaned down to pat the creature.

It yipped again and cuddled up against his leg. He didn’t say much, but you couldn’t get over the soft expression on his face. “You’re not all that bad,” he commented, scratching the little puff ball with legs. “I suppose.”

You felt a presence appear at your side, and you realized that the others had returned from their trip. Omega was standing next to you and peering through the doorway with a smile on her face. She didn’t look all too surprised to see him being so tender toward the voorpak pu, and neither of you had it in you to taunt. You both nodded and backed away from the doorway, pretending to have just arrived.

“Oh, there she is!” you stated. “She disappeared for a few, and I got worried.”

“There she is,” Crosshair said, standing to his feet with a sigh. He looked at Omega. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, we got side-tracked. There was a really cool snack stand!”

#the bad batch #bad batch #bad batch x reader #star wars bad batch x reader #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #echo x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #bad batch fanfiction #bad batch reader insert #bad batch hunter #bad batch wrecker #bad batch crosshair #bad batch tech #bad batch echo #bad batch omega #the bad batch imagine #bad batch imagine

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shibaraki · 3 months

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Do you have any mha fic recommendations? Something long probably? I need some to read after my finals are over

this is a wee bit vague beloved lol I have a lot of long ones but I’ve only really been reading gen or fics with little focus on romance so I’ll throw my favs out there for you and pray something sticks:

the thin gray line [89K + quirkless vigilante izuku]

mean rabbit [104K (ongoing) + quirkless izuku + mentor mirko]

little stars [213K + hawks and dabi deaged in a quirk accident + family feels]

from ash, from dust, from soil [129K + canon divergence: after sekoto peak touya and tenko find each other]

cure to evil [274K + antihero izuku has AFO]

fear no evil [50K + pre canon izuku kidnapped by humarise + dadmight vs dad for one vs dadzawa]

reminder there are also recs collected from my end of year event here(ship/gen) or here (xreader) 🤝 O AND GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR FINALS!!!!!

#asks #recs #I hope you enjoy atleast one of them ^^;#idk if you were looking for specifics #lmkkkk

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thisfanisgonesorry · 1 year

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hi if you're still taking requests, I can't get the idea of arthur somehow being in the epilogue, alive and thriving, working on the ranch with john and his family and just being happy

IM IN LOVE WITH YOU!! omg thanks for the req <3 i hope u enjoy it cutiepie, sorry it took me a lil bit

ending cowrote by @megbimbo loml

tags: yall are in the epilogue, making this an xreader since im basically useless if i dont but its light so dw, canon deviation obviously, high honor arthur. very angsty because my little gremlin brain could not just make him healthy but HE IS HAPPY!! MY BOY IS A HAPPY CAMPER!!; i usually write 1st person but i got possessed so heres a 2nd person fic (never doing this again, sorry if its shit), genderneutral but implied fem reader. milking the cows was the most pleasurable part of the epilogue after the absolute shitshow i had to endure that was chapter 6. arthur milks the cows for that exact reason. some medical terms i know that probably werent viable to use back in the day but idc. some cowboy stuff i learnt as a wee lass when i had a horsey. so many tags ill shut up now. (i got sad at the end of the fic because i realised you cant kiss him. that made me sad.) also water pump distance ref because its.. not as close as i thought it was.

♡

You and Abigail tended the house while Arthur and John were outside, doing god knows what, their manly chores. Jack and Uncle had a day trip to Blackwater, running errands and such, getting groceries, the works. Jack needed to get out of the house and Uncle needed to get out of doing work.

“I’ve got this.” Abigail spoke, taking the plate from your hands. A brisk nod and you wandered off outside to check on the boys, mostly worried for Arthurs wellbeing, as you tended to be. As the years dragged on, the remaining gang had been accustomed to not treat Arthur like he was fragile, which often than not, resulted in him being injured or overworked in some capacity or another.

You knew well enough that John would take care of Arthur and not work him to exhaustion, especially in this blazing heat, but nursing him back to health after things went south all that time ago wasn’t an easy job, and when they were building the house, he had a pretty bad flare up.

There was a slight sound of wheezing coming from the distance, your ears perked slightly, rushing down the main steps and looking around. You could vaguely see them over by the water pump in the distance.

Arthur was sitting on the ground, John hovering over him, rubbing his back slowly as Arthur coughed and spluttered. You rushed over to them, evidently worried.

“What happened?”

John looked over to you, softly speaking. “He pushed himself too hard.”

“Yeah.” He spluttered. “I’ll be fine.”

You kneeled beside Arthur, rubbing his back as John pulled away to fill the bucket with water to continue their water run, also so Arthur could take a handful and drink some, hopefully hydrating his throat enough to stop him from tearing his oesophagus.

Water Runs; They were dreaded, the water buckets would get heavy, and in heat like this, you’d need to do the runs multiple times a day to keep the animals hydrated. It got worse if the water troughs were under direct sunlight, the amount depended on the day, the weather and the animals, but the horses needed the extra water this summer, as did the sheep and the cows. All around, it was an awful chore.

Arthur, being the horse lover he is, would be quite adamant in keeping the horses up during the heat, making sure they’re okay. Though, because of the humid air, it was causing his illness to worsen. He slurped up a handful of water, and his coughing let up slightly.

“You need to rest.” You spoke firmly, as John picked up the bucket and walked it over to the remaining troughs, walking over into the sheep pen so he could keep a keen eye on Arthur momentarily.

“I know, I know.” He groaned. “John and I have a lot of things to do.”

“This is John’s ranch, not yours. Sit down for a bit.”

“But the horses—”

“But nothing. You can care for them later this evening.”

Your voice hung in the air sternly and he pouted like a child, he needed to sit down and rest, to be removed from the hot and muggy air. Once the blazing sun begins to set and the air begins to cool, he would be allowed to go back to his duties.

John waddled back over with the bucket, filling it up but lingering before he delivered it to the other animals. “Don’t worry, Arthur. I can do this on my own.”

“I want to help.” He spoke sternly, trying to stand up but weakly clutching his chest as he required the aid of you and John to get to his feet.

“How many other chores have you got today?”

John took the conversation away from Arthur, now more than just on board with the concept of letting him sit down and rest for a while. “Just the water, feeding, and milking the cows.”

“I can milk the cows.” Arthur objected.

You sighed, looking over at him, knowing he would rather keel over than be useless. He was a helper; for as long as he’s been known by any of the people on this ranch, he’s always been willing to help people. His need to work died down drastically since he’d been adopted to live on the ranch, but that didn’t mean the lack of drive didn’t eat away at him.

John raised his hands in a defeated shrug. “Let him milk the cows.”

“Fine, but I’m keeping a close eye on him.”

“That’s probably for the best.” John shrugged, with his shoulders this time, grunting as he picked up the bucket, continuing the water run.

Arthur had a horrendous side eye on him, though he restrained the urge to say something snarky, “I can do this on my own.” He spoke instead, as he began to stride his way to the barn.

“I know.” You responded, following behind him.

He seemed upset at the sudden switch of attitude, even after all this time, he wasn’t used to people treating him like he was sick. For the most part, people didn’t, but, for equal parts, he didn’t often tell people that he was sick, instead playing to be super cautious whenever around anyone new.

He took a seat on the stool beside the cow and you stood behind him, leaning against the pillar.

“I’m fine.” He reassured as he slowly milked the cow, the metal panging sound of the bucket being hit with liquid filled the barns silence.

“I know.” You repeated quietly, not really paying attention to the words leaving your mouth. “Jus’ making sure you’re okay, we’re bein’ careful, ‘s all.”

“I don’t need it.”

“I know you want to act like you’re okay, but you’re not. You’ve had a few close calls. We’re just trying to keep you...” You trailed off, not wanting to say the blunt words that weighed heavy. We’re trying to keep you alive.

He stayed silent as John slowly opened the barn doors, entering almost silently and taking the milk pail as it filled to the top.

“I’ll deal with this.” He said briefly, leaving us quietly to continue our discussion.

Arthur stayed painfully silent as your words lingered heavily in the air, John was quick to disappear into his jobs, and Arthur stayed on the stool, petting the cow softly.

“I get it.” He spoke after a long pause of silence. “I’m sorry, I just...” He rotated his hands in a motion to gesture the continuation of his sentence, not really wanting to finish it himself.

“Just come inside for a bit.”

He sighed in defeat, standing up from the cow and patting her softly as he removed himself from her side. He really suited this life, and it’s a darn shame that he can’t do too much with it.

He walked inside slowly, dragging his feet.

“Don’t get sulky.”

Uncle and Jack returned from Blackwater, pulling up in the wagon. Abigail had left the house to greet them and assist them while John did god-knows-what, something or other to do with the milk.

Jack and Uncle were having a conversation, or maybe an argument, about something in Blackwater, and they were asking Abigail her opinion as they unpacked the back of the wagon.

Arthur didn’t necessarily expect anyone to understand the struggles he had to deal with, he was dealt a poor hand, and partially, it was his fault. His days were numbered, and despite the unconditional love and support that everyone offered him, it only did so much into elongating that timer. It was a silent rule that we all knew it’d happen, and once it did, we’d most likely all point fingers on who’s to blame.

“Arthur.” Jack called out, grabbing his attention from his dreary thoughts and tossing him a fresh notebook. It lifted his spirits almost immediately. “I noticed your old one was getting full.” He responded plainly.

“Thanks, kid.” He smiled, still very clearly unwell and needing to rest but his mood had been lifted slightly. He walked through the front door quickly, wanting to get through before they’d be rushing things to and from inside the house.

He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a cold glass bottle of water, looking over at you begrudgingly as he sat down on the dining room table and flipped through the soft new pages of the notebook.

“Any idea what you’ll do with it yet?”

He shook his head plainly. “No, I might draw some of the horses. Been a while since I drew Boadicea, or Rachel.” He shrugged. “Could draw Neil if he’d stand still.”

“That’s good.”

“Might go up to Owanjila at some point.”

“You could make a day of it.”

“Yeah, I could.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you stop doing that?” You cursed at him, agitated by how he was acting. “Don’t get upset at me over this.”

“I was fine.” He gritted his teeth.

“You were on the ground struggling to breathe.” You bit back, emphasising every word. He didn’t respond, just glancing away from you. He knew you were right, but didn’t want to admit it since it was inherently showing more weakness. “You...” You trailed off briefly.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, interjecting the conversation. “Jus’.. Don’t wanna be useless.”

“You’re not useless, you’re sick.”

“I know but—”

“Don’t you even try to compare yourself to Uncle.” Arthur stayed silent as you hit the nail on the head. “You did enough work today. Relax. Draw, journal, something. You have a few hours until the sun sets.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll make a deal with you.”

“What?” He was beginning to come across as overly defensive, though softened into a defeated sigh as you tried to compromise.

“Abigail gets angry at me, she don’t like how I do the dishes or clean clothes.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll pro’lly try to help with the yard work. You can do more with less hassle.”

“I guess.” He shrugged.

“Weather forecasts think that it might rain sometime this week, means less work here, we can go to Owanjila.” He wasn’t too keen on it being babysat but he accepted it nonetheless.

“That’d be kinda nice...” He trailed off.

“We can do some fishin’ so they don’t think we’re bein lazy.” It was clear who the ‘they’ was in that sentence, which made him laugh in a silent exhale. “You can draw some of the scenery, set up a mini camp and just.. Have a day off. Hows that?”

“But—”

“Stop. You need to stop.”

“I’m bored!” He said, clearly agitated and exhausted. “I need something to do, ‘nd everyone jus’ wants me to rest but I gotta do somethin’ or I feel like shit.”

“I just suggested something.” I said sternly.

He looks around the dining area, chewing the inside of his cheek as he considers the idea. He sucked on his teeth slightly.

“Tch... Fine.” He admitted, like a defeated child.

There’s a long moment of silence, and you reach across the table to hold his hand. He continues to avoid eye contact, and his hand doesn’t hold yours back.

Arthur’s voice is barely above a mumble; so sulky for a man so strong, or so he claims to be. Your eyes flickered between his gaze and him, waiting for him to speak. Arthur, desperate to look literally anywhere else, found himself staring at John’s taxidermied squirrel. If you didn’t know any better, one would probably assume he’s admiring the finest piece of art the 1900s has to offer. He seems to linger on the concept for a while, which worries you. You can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that mind of his.

The silence blares in your ears for a bit too long. Clearing his throat, Arthur looked you in the eyes.

“We’ll see how things go.”

#asks #arthur morgan #fluff #angst #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan angst

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fang-and-feather · 8 months

Text

Ikemen Vampire - Jean d'Arc x Vincent van Gogh x Reader

Words: 1,132

Summary: Jean can't help but still question his feelings for these two little lights that kept coming back to illuminate his life, but he also can't help but be drawn to them

Notes: this first chapter is a little angstier than my usual due to Jean's internal conflict. I don't know what possessed me while writing this one or to even have the idea to start this in this way...

Written for Polyam Shipping Day Prompt: Conflict from @polyamships

The Jean/Vincent pairing was inspired by @koco-coko (although I vaguely remember reading something with them on AO3, back before I was even a writer for this fandom) and I've been meaning to write it for a while, hope you don't mind me going along with the idea and that I went along with a xReader triad (is it a surprise to anyone at this point?)

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Jean had never been in love; he wasn’t sure what it felt like. But if he had to guess, that was exactly what he was feeling. He could give no other name to this.

Except that this couldn’t be love. Love was supposed to be such a pure feeling. This? This was temptation. Sin.

First sin was to fall in love with someone else’s woman.

You had been forced back through an incident; he didn’t expect you to return to what you had before, as if you had never left, but you did. What changed was for him when, by a twist of fate, Jean found himself spending a lot of time with you as you tried to teach him to write.

Vincent didn’t seem to mind so much. Although it wasn’t unusual for him to bring his sketchbook, sit at a distance and stay around until you were done. Jean felt a little guilty for taking so much of your time, but both of you were very reassuring whenever he voiced said guilt.

Then he found out what Vincent was so intently sketching. Most of his drawings were of you, but there were some of Jean himself.

Second sin was to fall in love with another man.

Vincent had already asked to paint Jean before, a little after Jean arrived at the mansion. He’d been a little insistent, until Theo got angry at Jean for continuously refusing his brother.

After the sketches, Vincent asked again, with you supporting him. And Jean couldn’t deny the two of you. Although you would say he didn’t need to, he thought it was a way he could repay you for all you were doing for him.

And that led to more time spent with both of you. And all the time spent with either of you was conflicting for Jean. You kept telling him how beautiful he was, or kind, or that he deserved forgiveness, deserved to live, and sometimes Jean caught himself wanting to believe.

Then he would realize his feelings once more, and how could he?

But was it still wrong when he wasn’t exclusively interested in him? When they would share a woman?

Probably.

Third sin was probably to fall in love with two people at the same time.

In fact, he wasn’t even sure if that was a sin, but it had to be wrong somehow. There was no way it was normal, and he would have judged it impossible had it not happened to him.

Was it so wrong, though? How could love be wrong?

Was it even love? How could a monster like him love someone?

He tried to run away then. From these questions. From your light and all its - in his mind, false - hope. He tried. But he was attracted to your light like a moth, and you reached back for him.

How could loving you be a sin, when you were so close to angels? That was how anyone would describe Vincent. And although that wasn’t attributed to you in words, they all loved you, and you were a light in everyone’s lives, helping each one of them heal from their own darkness.

But he was the one both of you chose to give your love to.

So, how could it be wrong? Would you make that choice even if it was wrong?

“Love is not a choice. Neither is it right nor wrong.” You spoke up, and Jean realized he’d asked it aloud.

“Is it another difference from your time?”

“My time is more accepting, but I won’t say it’s considered right. And maybe they’re right. Maybe it is wrong. But, as I said, it’s not a choice. Neither is it enough to condemn us.”

“I was conflicted too, when I started noticing these feelings. We’re not trying to say your views are wrong.” Vincent added. “We will understand if you don’t want to do this. But love is love, and our love is true. Never doubt that.”

Jean looked away from the two of you, with your bright, hopeful eyes and your all encompassing light, which was always too bright for him, but he couldn’t escape this time.

His gaze landed, unfortunately - or maybe fortunately, he would find out - on the painting Vincent had just presented him. The picture Jean thought looked nothing like him. Too bright. Too happy.

But Vincent said that was how he saw Jean, and doubting that would be doubting everything Vincent lived for. Because that was how Vincent painted; with that light he saw in everything.

“How do you know?”

“Because it is the same love we have for each other. I wasn’t sure it was possible, but this is the truth, and it will never change. But we’ll pretend this didn’t happen if you want to.”

“We just want to see you happy.” Vincent took one of his hands; his grip light enough for Jean to pull away if he wanted to. “But we had to let you know. To see our side of the story.”He motioned at the painting with his other hand. “And I wanted you to see the you that we see. Beautiful, body and soul.”

This time you reached out, hand resting on his cheek, thumb wiping away a tear.

“And even if you step away now, we’ll still be your friends.” Your hand aliped down slowly, coming to rest on his chest. “We’ll protect your heart. Your light. For as long as you live. Because we’ll always love you, at the distance you deem appropriate.”

You always said such hopeful things to him, which made him feel happier every time. But now, his heart felt so full, almost overflowing with love for you.

A part of him still wanted to run and hide from all your light. All the hope. All the love he didn’t deserve, and that he wasn’t so sure it was right. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, his hold on Vincent’s hand tightened, and he pulled both of you to him, then hugged you.

Maybe he was a fool for it, but he wanted to accept your love and tell you how he felt. He wanted to hope for the future by your side.

He couldn’t formulate the words right now. Maybe it would take some time before he could. But here, with you, he believed both of you had been sent into his life to give him a second chance.

Could he believe that? Could he dare hope for tomorrow? Would he really be forgiven?

Maybe he would always be conflicted like that, but you would always be there for him to reach out to whenever he had doubts. Whenever the darkness wanted to consume him again. The two people he loved more than anything.

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#PolyamShippingDay #ikemen vampire #ikevamp jean #ikevamp vincent #ot3: jean d'arc x vincent van gogh x reader #polyamory #ikevamp #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic

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goldfeizh · 6 months

Text

"Harold with a Goth Reader!"

PAIRING : Harold/Reader, established relationship

FANDOM : Total Drama, headcanons

CONTAINS : Fluff, words like "pretty" and "gorgeous" used in a gender-neutral way

He ADORES you; He loves looking at you, watching you do your makeup, he loves it when you show him your outfit. Harold just genuinely thinks that you're really really pretty.

Harold would learn anything and everything he can about Goth Subculture. Like, the moment he realizes that he has a crush on you, he is gonna spend his whole night searching the internet for information to impress you with.

He often thinks about what he would look like if he was Goth, but he's also extremely reluctant to try it out. Although, he'd be secretly ecstatic if you offer to put makeup on him.

He has tried listening to Goth Music before, but he couldn't really get himself into it much. He definitely finds it cool, though, and he enjoys discovering new songs that he thinks you would like. PLEASE make playlists for this man, he doesn't even care if it's genres he actually listens to, the mere fact that you thought of him while listening to music already makes him so happy.

This man would defend you with his life— not as much physically, but he can and will talk anybody's ear off if they call you emo. He would ramble on about all the differences between Emo and Goth Subculture.

To be honest, Harold was probably intimidated by you at first. Like, he thought you looked cool, he was just a little nervous around you.

Once you actually talk to him, he becomes even more nervous— not out of fear, but because WOW, do you look gorgeous up-close. Mans is stuttering so much that you can't even understand what he's trying to say.

He's the type of guy to find some random object at a thrift store or a cool shiny rock, and he would bring it to you and be like "This reminded me of you! :D"

If you like literature or poetry, Harold would write poems for you. Most of it is really sappy and maybe a little cringy but it's cute.

Cemeteries freak him out, but if you like going to them, he would still accompany you. His hands are shaking while you hold them, he's jumping and flinching at every sound that he deems creepy, but he is staying by your side.

Concerts. He's never been to one but he thinks they're awesome and he would be over the moon if you asked him to go to one with you! He'd be happily holding your hand in the crowd. He's also rather tall, so he'll hold your phone for you up high to record the concert.

Harold enjoys celebrating Halloween with you. He has always wanted to dress up like a vampire, it is a childhood dream of his, and he will not admit it until you actually tell him that you wanna dress up as Vampires for Halloween.

He's a patient man but he can't deny the fact that it takes you so long to get ready. Like, if you guys are going to an event with a set time that you should be there by, he's waking you up atleast 2 or 3 hours earlier than the usual time you wake up so you can start getting ready earlier because he does not want to be late— unless it's an event that he doesn't really wanna go to, then take as long as you want.

For the Goth Harold lovers. I don't see enough xReaders for this man, he's one of my favorite characters and I think he deserves some love!! I'd also like to note that I'm not Goth, I tried to do as much research as I can, and also tried to keep some things genera and maybe a little vague because I didn't want to end up offending a group of people. Please tell me if I got anything wrong, constructive criticism, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #goth reader #x gender neutral goth reader #total drama x reader #harold total drama #harold mcgrady #total drama harold #Total drama Harold x Reader #Harold McGrady x Reader #Harold x Goth Reader #Total drama Harold x Goth Reader #Total Drama x Goth Reader #fluff #tdi harold #Tdi Harold x Reader #Tdi Harold x Goth Reader #Tdi Harold x Gender neutral reader #💌 feizh writes

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damagedintellect · 1 year

Text

Dazai Osamu x reader

💌 Reading into the palms of isekai bullshit: Chapter 6 💌

Summary: You were no stranger to isekai bullshit. It’s not like you had a problem with it. The genre took over the anime scene for years now but you try to stay away from thinking about how you would handle the situation. The last time you thought about inserting yourself into your favorite show you wrote a 100k word xReader fic for your favorite characters and you didn’t want to spend all your time consumed by the brainrot again. Never again, you promised yourself that was the last time you’d let the devil on your shoulder win. You clicked on chapter 1 to start the adventure over again but when you opened your eyes and saw Dazai O-FUCKING-samu getting choked by Kunikida you honestly hoped it was a dream.

Notes: Another isekai so I can play around with BSD like dolls.

This will be the last update for a while because Artfight starts in a few days and it takes place during the whole month of July. The theme is Vampire vs Werewolves which has me laughing my ass off, IT'S LITERALLY BSD THEMED I CAN'T IT'S TOO MUCH!!! I'm planning on siding with Vampire's since *SPOILERS* home boi is under the vampirism.

💌 Word count: 2,457 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

Everyone celebrated the fall of the guild that night. You shared a few drinks with Yosano and Kunikida but noticed that Dazai was missing. He must be at the art gallery with Hirotsu. Things were only going to get harder moving forward. This will probably be the only time you could have a drink and relax. You don't even want to think about it because you have a feeling Ranpo is going to threaten you for answers during the cannibalism arc but at the same time he’s seen that your knowledge isn't always indefinite. It's either that or once again Chuuya is an outlier. Before you could refuse it, one drink turned into two and the next thing you knew you were sitting in Yosano's lap as your arms were tangled with hers as you shot back your sixth or seventh bottle. Both of you were cackling about something Ranpo said as Kunikida was bringing you both water. You don't think you drank the water either. You only vaguely remember sharing another drink with Yosano before attempting to get back to the dorms. Kunikida was escorting Yosano while Ranpo begrudgingly helped you up the stairs. He was complaining that his room was directly below yours and he would have to walk twice as far. You told him you could make the ten feet on your own as he cheerfully bid you farewell for the night. The last thing you remember was inserting your key into the lock before you passed out.

Dazai decided to grab a drink at Lupin's after meeting with Hirotsu. There was a lot to think about after the fall of the guild and he knew he needed to take a break before looking into the rats. He had an eerie premonition he'd be crossing "his" path again but for now he needed to de-stress. Feeling the smooth burn down his throat calmed his active mind somewhat but it wouldn't be enough alcohol to get him tipsy. He rarely let himself get that loose so after the drink he casually strode home taking in the quiet walk observing the interesting nightlife.

When he got to the top of the stairs he knew something was off. He felt a presence but who could be out and about at this hour. All he knew is that thankfully it wasn't Chuuya. When he turned the corner he saw (Y/N) on the floor, key in hand just outside his room. Dazai couldn’t help the chuckle that passed his lips. She must have had drinks with Yosano. The doctor had a knack for drinking everyone under the table. Odd that you were on the floor outside his room but if he had to guess Ranpo got lazy. Dazai knelt down beside you to see if you were awake. The moment he was eye level with you he lightly tapped your shoulder as he spoke.

"Silly little Belladonna, you can't sleep out here. Let's get you to bed okay?"

You slowly stirred from the movement but it was clear you were too far gone. "Dasaiiii!" you slurred as you threw yourself on him nuzzling into his warmth. It had been cold on the floor. You were sad after your key didn't work and you were too exhausted to go to someone else's room. Thinking back you had your phone in your pocket you definitely could have called for help but it slipped your mind until right now. Once you lost your ability to stand you opted to sit down for a bit. That's when you fell asleep so this must be a dream. "Of course I'd dream of Dazai. God mmm pathetic." You scoffed at yourself, not hiding your smile because you didn't realize you were thinking out loud.

The brunette laughed at your outburst but quirked an eyebrow at its context. Past his name you mumbled the rest. "You're pathetic?" He was curious as you shuffled closer to him pulling away enough to look him in the eyes, he didn't move.

"I'm pathetic cause mmm in love with Osamu,” You said it so soft and gentle he thought he misheard you until the panic set in your voice. “Dream-zai you can't tell him! Because-" You stopped talking trying to come up with a reason. Ultimately you didn't know why you shouldn't tell him. Yeah of course rejection was a possibility but the way you see it your love is more unconditional. At this point you would rather Dazai be Dazai than have the feelings be mutual. You wanted him to know someone cared without expecting anything in return and that he can have what he wants without it being taken away. Or at least you think that’s what he wants, wait what were you talking about? Oh right! "I hav to tell hm so don't say anyfing or I’ll kill you myslef!" You pushed your fist to his chest as a threat.

Dazai blinked. You love him? Why? He's tried to threaten you, teased you and has tried to annoy you at every opportunity since you started working beside him at the ADA. It worked well for everyone else to be kept at arm's length but he guessed your little game was the difference. It did mean that you both shared some, moments. Why were you always so difficult and why did he feel warm like he wanted to believe you. His heart was beating erratically and not by his doing, he hated it. "We should get you to bed, you're already speaking nonsense." He helped you off the floor but you clung to him. It was cute but it made ushering you inside his room harder than it needed to be.

The moment you got inside you flopped down on his futon unprompted. The look you gave him at the prospect of him joining you was adorable and it made his heart clench as he frowned, getting you some water. You were much more honest when you were drunk. He almost missed the playful banter to get you to spill your secrets. He still couldn’t put a finger on how your intuition was flawlessly comprehensive or at least from what he’s tested and witnessed. Chuuya refused to give him any details of your meeting. He expected as much but there was a sliver of hope that Chuuya might spare a few details. Instead the redhead didn’t bother which could only mean that you were able to answer his questions otherwise he would have given Dazai an earful about how he was just wasting his time. Which brings him back full circle at how much could you realistically know by looking at people’s palms? It’s been eating at him slightly every day because there was no logic behind it. The fact that you know so much about him and his past yet you so proudly claimed to love him vexed Dazai. Which begged the question,

“Why do you love me?” He handed you the glass as you happily gulped down every last drop. “Dream-zai has to promise not to tell Osamu first.” You held out your pinky for him to take. Everytime you called him by his first name he felt miffed, there was this incessant tingling across his skin that made him feel warmth in the pit of his stomach. He knew you were only using it to distinguish between what you thought was the real and fake Dazai but it was starting to drive him up the wall that you couldn’t tell the difference. Then again he couldn't tell if he liked or hated the way hearing his first name from your lips made him feel. When he extended his pinky he noted how sweaty his palms were. Why was this happening to him he didn’t understand.

“For the longest time he couldn’t see the value in living and I can sympathize with that, I don’t know if he still doesn’t but he thinks he isn’t worthy of it and for someone so intellectually gifted and self aware it’s cute that he’s so emotionally inept. With his smile he could get away with murder and he knows it, he knows he’s not a good person but still chose to side with helping people and is willing to sacrifice everything for it. But it must be lonely to push everyone away because deep down he’s terrified of losing everything important to him. He refuses to have wants and desires without trying to rationalize or justify them in some way and that’s stupid.” You laughed eyes half lidded, not even sure if any of this is making any sense to Dream-zai. The water seemed to help sober you enough to speak in full sentences at least but you still slurred a few words here and there.

Dazai on the other hand has been marveling you wide eyed at a complete loss for words. Where did all this come from? He’s even more confused now and his heart was working overtime to the point it ached. He needed you to stop talking before his “symptoms” got any worse. He couldn’t fight the urge to reach out as you were blissfully unaware continuing your line of thought.

“At the end of the day I don’t think he knows that love can be unconditional. That people don’t need a reason to care for him-”

It barely registered that he placed his lips on yours but when it does you smile. Your eyes slipped shut as you slumped backwards on the futon. It took Dazai a minute to process everything that just happened as he threw himself on the floor next to you both hands clawing at his face as the realization hit him like a bus. It was the only way to get you to shut up. That was a lie and he knew it but it’s what he kept repeating to himself as his blood ran cold. He wanted to run away but if he did then you’d get suspicious. Would you even remember? This was supposed to be a simple game of chicken. It wasn't supposed to end with him developing feelings of any kind, but no one has ever been so painfully honest with him before. His heart was still racing as he was trying to find an out. He got up and started pacing. He looked back at you, he knew what he must do.

The next morning your head was killing you. It was a mistake to drink with Yosano but at least you can say you did it. You tried to sink back into the covers but you noticed it was hard to shift your position almost like someone was holding you in place. You remembered Ranpo accompanying you back to the dorms. Your eyes shoot wide open as you fight the dizziness. The more you moved the more you felt the need to purge the contents in your stomach. You took some deep breaths as you weighed out your options. You decided to slowly remove the hand around your waist first but when your fingers felt bandages your mind was sent into a different panic. Part of you was relieved it wasn’t Ranpo but this wasn’t any better. The more you woke up you realized you were only wearing your undergarments. WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT!

Before you could spiral any further, strong arms pulled you closer as Dazai’s sultry morning voice almost lulled you back to sleep. “Good morning love~” he kissed the crook of your neck “How’re feeling?”

You leaned into the pleasant sensation for a moment as you snapped back to reality. You could panic all you wanted in your head but you couldn’t let him have the satisfaction. “Like shit but I really should have seen this coming honestly.” You shifted to lay on your back feeling the liquids slosh around. You were going to be sick. Dazai was laying on his side using one hand to prop himself up and using the other one to curl your hair behind your ear and out of your face. He was looking at you like you were his world. It was charming if not almost unsettling since you don’t remember anything from last night at all. “So Love~” You mimic the pet name “Care to fill me in on what we got up to last night?” Based on Dazai’s current lack of shirt and snarky demeanor you could only imagine that you guys finally had at it but it doesn’t bridge the gap for how you ended up here with him.

“Ah so you don’t remember.” Dazai acted smug but hearing that was a huge relief to him. The last thing he needed was for you to remember him being mildly flustered by your words alone. He let his finger trace along your jaw tipping your chin up at him. “Want me to jog your memory?”

“Depends on who caved, but you could always give me a demonstration.”

How peculiar, he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction. You must genuinely not remember anything from last night. Out of all the ways he planned for this to go down he half expected you to see through him immediately as you have in the past. Maybe the alcohol was to blame? Whatever the case he intended on using this to his advantage as he leaned in to close the distance between you. The longer you guys spent fooling around the more time Dazai had to ignore his responsibilities. Victory was sweet, the kiss however taste of stale liquor.

He smirked as he pulled away “Last night you waited outside my door and threw yourself at me confessing your undying love for me-” You started laughing but stopped feeling a wave of nausea. You sat up gesturing your hand for him to give you a minute to assess whether you should go throw up or not. Even if you could keep all the fluids inside you it was probably better that you did. It would be less for your liver to process later. Dazai seemed to understand as he helped you to the bathroom. He even helped get your hair out of the way and rubbed circles on your back while he mentioned this is why no one drinks with Yosano anymore. Once you got most of it out, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Going back to last night, I call bullshit.” He was being too overly dramatic for you to gauge any semblance of what really happened.

“Aw but I thought you trusted me~”

“I do, which is why I'm not even going to bother with what I don’t remember.”

He frowned, you weren’t playing fair at all.

#the BSD isekai au that no one asked for #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd x reader #bsd imagines

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ronearoundblindly · 6 months

Note

hi!!

after hideout 4.2, i wanted to know: where is the motel located in the universe? whenever i read it, i see it more out west in the US, like california/nevada/utah/arizona area, maybe even within the four corners. I see more ruralness and a little more desert and rocks than grass and trees.

ily and this series thank you for creating such a unique universe <3

😳

I suppose I see it similar to the American west, but since I do try to keep Reader Fics as ambiguous as possible, I hope it's, yeah, open for interpretation. For the advantage of 'cover,' I do have the general description of woods and hiking areas out behind the motel. It is definitely rural but maybe vague enough to feel like there are different states/countries/continents this could refer to? Idk, I'm newer to xReader stories, and it is not possible to mean everyone with the exact same words, like an enormous age range or language barriers, etc, without being specific.

I'm struggling to figure out how little to include other people/plot in the last two chapters because that would involve family details. That feels like it's pigeon-holing the "this is you" part of the story. I struggle with this for every Reader Fic though; you can only say so much about anybody, however, without giving some personality, which is shaped by our experiences. Blargh. Humbug. Big shock, I overthink it.

Thank you for asking!

I've absolutely adored your comments for each part, and I hope I can keep up the excitement through the end 🥹😅🫡

[Hideout Series; Main Masterlist]

#ro answers #hideout series #x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #reader insert #x female reader #captain america x reader #😘🫶

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jo-harrington · 1 year

Text

As Above, So Below - Chapter 1: Illumination

Previous Chapter: Prologue - Annunciation

Summary: You embark on a long journey and you face the ghosts of your past.

Word Count: 10k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Mentions of Death and Injury, Mention of Suicide, Established Relationship, Romance, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Difficult Family Relationships, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: As we start getting into the meat of the story, I would like to remind everyone to read the Prequels. Especially Purgatory as we will be stepping in right where Purgatory left off.

The categorization for this story is also no longer xReader, but xOC; however, I will still be writing from the same POV and I will still be vague about our Knight's physical characteristics and name. Please see either the Prologue for the note about her background to set the expectation for yourself before you begin to read the this chapter as we will be getting further details of her origins.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” — Christopher Reeve

October 5th, 1987

Don't be afraid.

You waited restlessly in what could only be described as a receiving line as a black car pulled up and a figure in red emerged from the back.

Don't back down.

With every step he took, another person shook his hand, bowed to kiss his signet ring in respect, and you could feel your resolve begin to crumble.

Don't show weakness.

Finally, he made it to you.

There was no real greeting, no pleasantries. He could put on a show, but it wasn't hard to detect everything rotten beneath the surface.

The newly-appointed Cardinal Jinette had no fondness for you.

"It's good to see you being useful in a time of need," he greeted backhandedly.

Nor did you have any for him.

"I'm only meant to do as I'm told, isn't that right?" you countered trying to hold back the venom in your voice.

He held his hand out and you shook it, but avoided the show of respect. You didn't even look at his ring. He wasn't entitled to it. You gripped his hand tighter as he tried to move on from you.

"We need to talk."

The serene expression that he had schooled himself to give turned hard and impatient, and he reluctantly motioned for you to follow him as he continued down the line.

As he led a prayer for the congregants, you reflected and prepared yourself for the battle ahead.

It had been a few days since the earthquake rocked Los Angeles; countless buildings were damaged and destroyed. The death toll was low, but the number of people injured and missing got higher by the day. The church, of course, became a beacon of hope and refuge as it usually did. People flocked, people prayed and lit candles, they begged God for mercy.

So one would think that you, acting on behalf of the church—on behalf of God—would be put to use in the best of ways. To heal, and fix, for once, instead of strike and destroy.

You had been eager for it, craved it.

But for someone like you there was a line that couldn't be crossed. Rules that couldn't be broken. And when you had shown up at the cathedral amidst chaos after returning to the city from your hike, you had been told to stay out of the way. To let the people who could help in a meaningful way do so.

There would be no healing, no peace, no comfort for those afflicted by tragedy.

"An act of God," Jinette began, because there could be no other explanation. "An act of God requires no miracles; there is nothing to fix."

Miracles?

Was that what he thought they were?

Your nonna always told you that you were destined for miracles. It was in your blood. You'd follow in your father's footsteps and your grandfathers. Save the world from darkness through miracles.

Your father would laugh, though, as he packed his bag to leave on yet another mission for a God that damned him. You'd sit, too young to truly understand her hopeful devotion and his cynicism, and ask what Nonna meant. What miracles he was going to perform.

"Miracles are for Saints. Not for us."

You could have put up a fight. You should have. You should have pushed to make a difference and end someone's suffering but Jinette knew what buttons to press to get you to back down.

Especially since you carried the guilt that the earthquake was your fault in the first place.

Jinette sent you away to a place where he didn't need to look at you, where you could make the least amount of noise.

If only he knew the irony in his choice: the Misión San Gabriel Arcángel.

You swore you heard Gabriel's stiff, judgmental hum as you stepped through the gates. A warning that he could watch you here...watch you anywhere. A reminder that the clock was ticking and fate was waiting.

You helped with disaster relief efforts for days. Walked through the neighborhood passing out food and water, helped set up shelter in the rectory building, and prepared care packages.

Some of the historic buildings on the property had sustained damage in the quake; plaster gave way to show concerning cracks in the adobe below. So you volunteered to go into the chapel to survey the integrity of the building and see if it could be used to safely shelter people who had been displaced from their homes. If an aftershock occurred and the building collapsed, you could get yourself out when others could not.

You had done it before, after all.

However, the most important task you undertook was answering the rectory phone, and it was the reason your eyes burned a hole through the back of Jinette's skull.

He said his final amen, offered some additional handshakes, and then turned on his heel and started towards the cemetery on the grounds. You were quick to follow.

There was an uneasiness that filled you as you stepped past the cemetery gates and onto the grass, an unsettling energy. Not aimed towards you...but at Jinette...

You had always been receptive to the dead, but it had never manifested like this before.

It was a Mission, after all. What else did you expect?

"So," Jinette began and sat on one of the small stone benches. "What have you done now?"

"W-what have I done?" you choked on your words. You shouldn't have been surprised by his dismissal of you. "Why would you assume it's something I've done?"

"Because it's the truth of your soul, child. You sin again and again, you ask for penance, you're sent on another task to find it."

How dare he speak of penance. How dare he set foot on their graves. How dare he disturb their rest. How dare he talk about miracles and healing and peace and sin and forgiveness.

Thoughts bubbled up inside of you like heartburn and fed on your internalized wrath. Thoughts that were not your own.

You pushed them back and tried to focus on the task at hand. You wouldn't get anywhere if you weren't careful.

"I haven't done anything..." you explained. "Yet."

"Ah, you see?" He smirked and clapped his hands, triumphant that his assumption was correct.

"I need to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Father Arnold had me on the phones yesterday," you began your explanation. "People calling for supplies, to help arrange funerals...standard calls you might expect in this circumstance. But there was one call that...was interesting...concerning.

"Someone from the Geological Survey. Calling to let us know that someone would be out, to the mission specifically...to survey some kind of fault line that might have contributed to the damage. I'm not entirely sure; my father made sure I knew scriptures not science. What was interesting, though, was that he said this earthquake wasn't the only one that happened on Thursday.

"There was another one. Several, in fact, In Indiana. Hawkins. And that—”

Jinette's laughter cut you off and your stomach turned. You could hear the hissing at the back of your mind as the spirits grew restless once again.

"That's what this is about?" he asked incredulously. "Your...silly fascination with Hawkins?"

"It's not a fascination."

"Obsession. With that boy."

"It isn't about Eddie," you scoffed. "Hawkins was already the sight of an atrocity. The...the monsters...the portal...I told you all about it. What if this is related?"

"You didn't seem to think the last earthquake was an atrocity."

No, you hadn't thought so.

There hadn't been a reason for you to think otherwise.

Your thoughts were only on Eddie, not Hawkins. Who cared about the town when he was gone? When he waited for you? Your focus and determination was to undo the curse so you could be with him. More determined than your predecessors ever had been, surely, to reach the ultimate prize.

Love. Forgiveness. Salvation. Rest.

You toed the line between life and death countless times over the past 18 months, you never declined a mission. You became the mindless sword you were destined to be...and it still wasn't enough.

The weariness you had felt before Eddie's death had only increased tenfold. There seemed to be no end in sight.

Then the Earth below Hawkins shook and cracked and split open once again. For 7 days it had been rumbling with some frequency, unexplained.

But there were no such things as coincidences. For Gabriel to show his face here, after something happened in Hawkins again...

"I've changed my mind," you finally answered. "It must have been related. Something infernal. I have a gut feeling, I have to follow it."

"There's a proclivity to temptation in your blood. You know this."

How dare he speak of temptation. Ask about his temptation. Ask him what he did to earn the scarlet robe. He's hungry for power. Power over you.

"It isn't temptation," you argued. "It's a genuine concern. We should at least investigate."

"Have you tried calling? Any of your friends in Hawkins? Called anybody?"

"I have. The phone lines are down. Everywhere. Even the Pizza Parlor. Hawkins went dark...over a week ago it seems."

"Because of the earthquake. There is nothing nefarious there."

"But what if it is? If you're not going to let me go, ask someone else," you begged. "We can contact the Order. It wouldn't hurt to ask."

The two of you talked over one another to convince each other to see reason. You knew you needed to go, and Jinette was desperate for you to stay.

"You have no connection to Hawkins anymore," Jinette raised his voice and stomped his foot down in finality as he rose from the bench.

The anger bubbled up inside you once again and your throat tightened, the hissing of the spirits just as loud in your ear as Jinette’s.

Tell him. Tell him that a power greater than him demands your presence.

"Your little...boyfriend is dead. You have work to do elsewhere. You're better off doing work here, helping people here."

Tell him his rotten little existence is eclipsed by the majesty that awaits you.

“Instead of playing into your little fantasy where you can make up for being unable to save him.”

Tell him to go to Hell and then let us drag him there.

You let out a screech for them to shut up, all of them. Your voice echoed through the cemetery, bounced off headstones and monuments and columbariums.

Then the ground began to violently shake.

You began to shake.

You trembled with fury at a frequency that easily penetrated the earth and rippled out from you.

Jinette lost his balance and fell back on the bench as he stared at you in shock. Frantic shouts could be heard from beyond the walls that enclosed the graveyard. Cars beeped and crashed on the road as drivers lost control.

Across from the mission was the Civic Theater; it was another historic monument in devotion to your Guardian, with three bell towers situated proudly atop it. As the tremors increased, the bells started to sway. The distressed ringing emulated screams and cries for help as the adobe began to crack and give way around them.

“Please,” they seemed to beg in harmony. “We are innocent.”

But their cries fell on unsympathetic ears, and you watched with a dark, sick glee as one of the bell towers broke and crashed through the roof into the auditorium below.

You knew no one was hurt. You could feel it.

But Jinette did not.

"Stop this, stop! Enough" He shouted, pleaded. You recentered yourself and the tremors stopped.

“What have you done?” He asked in disgust. “What have you done?! You’re meant to save the innocent, protect them. You’re a monster!”

You quickly closed the distance between you and he flinched.

“If I’m a monster, it is because you made me one Father,” you hissed at him.

“Then may God find the mercy to save you,” he whispered.

"God isn’t going to save me. I’m going to save myself.”

October 7th, 1987

It was unfair to say that you didn't have any supporters within the church; there were a few people who could even be considered as having a fondness for you. A handful of nuns, the old priest at the parish back home, maybe maybe the Pope if you were really pushing it; he remembered your name once.

The other members of the Holy Order itself...well that was complicated.

However, as soon as you effectively burned bridges with Jinette, the number dwindled even further. And it was evident as you set foot on the grounds of the cathedral to collect your things.

You had only grabbed the bare minimum to go to the Mission on Jinette's orders and the rest had been stored away in some spare room in the rectory. But no matter who you asked, you never got a straight answer.

"The Cardinal had us put your things in storage."

"Your bags? We were told they were to be donated."

"Are you sure you didn't bring them along with you? Maybe a prayer to St. Anthony if you've misplaced them."

One of the nuns who usually had a sweet smile and prayer for you even made the sign of the cross as you went to ask for her help.

You stared at her in shock as she scurried away from you as quickly as she could. You covered your face and groaned.

You shouldn't have done what you did, you knew it...it was just...enough was enough. And you couldn't undo it now. You just...you knew you needed to get to Hawkins, desperately, and if Jinette wasn't going to loosen your leash enough to let you go, after you destroyed yourself for the church—for him—you knew you needed to break free.

But you also needed more than a dirty change of clothes and the handful of bills you had tucked into the glovebox of your car.

"UGH! For fuck's sak--"

"Sorry, did you need help?" a soft voice interrupted you, and as you peeled your hands away to see who the newcomer was, you found yourself vaguely remembering the woman. "Oh, it's you."

She looked different from the last time—the only time—you saw her. She had a coif and veil covering her hair now, and a maroon apron over her blouse and skirt. Not a nun yet, still a novice.

"Mary...Victoria, right?" you recalled. She smiled and nodded, then glanced to the sides.

"I, uh, don't think you're really welcome here anymore," she whispered conspiratorially. "The Cardinal is...really mad; he might have...banned you from the Cathedral."

"Tell me something I don't know." You rolled your eyes. "I just need to get my stuff. I'm making a run for it."

"Oh?" Her eyes brightened. "Where are you going? Official Knight's Business?"

"Less official and more..." You took a breath and tried to find the right words.

She had already been kinder to you than anyone else you'd come across, and could potentially get herself into trouble just for talking to you. It was strange, though, how clearly you remembered the mischief in her when you met.

"...more the exact reason I'm banned from the cathedral in the first place."

Mary Victoria laughed wickedly and nodded.

"Quick getaway, got it. I've been kinda looking for one of those myself."

She was?

She motioned for you to follow her and she led you through the maze of hallways in the rectory to a room that only a select few would see: the sacristy.

It was the room where the priests would prepare for mass, and especially now that Jinette was a Cardinal, it held a larger array of vestments and vessels. Atop a cabinet in the middle of the room was a white cassock and stole...and your duffel bag, the contents of which had been spread out along the cabinet, obviously rifled through.

Mary Victoria quickly tried to make some sort of excuse, that the Cardinal was just taking a tally of your things, maybe to return everything to you...but you both knew she was just doing it to spare your feelings.

Jinette was never intending to return your things.

You wondered, as you scoffed and shoved your clothes and books back into the bag, how many times this had been done before. By how many "well-meaning" priests and bishops and cardinals. They never took anything—they might have been assholes but they never broke a commandment...besides you would have noticed—but it still made you feel...less than.

Could you be surprised though? Over the years it had been made obvious to you that you weren't...a real person in the church's eyes. Especially to those like Jinette. Thus, the things that belonged to you...weren't really yours either. You were not allowed nice things, not allowed a life.

You hoisted your bag over your shoulder and the two of you made a quick getaway out of the rectory.

Mary Victoria hesitantly asked questions as you walked to fill the silence—where you were going, what you were planning to do when you got there—and you wanted to answer her as truthfully as possible, but you didn't really know what would be waiting for you in Hawkins.

"I'm sorry." She sighed and shook her head when you took a little longer to answer. "I know you can't say much."

"No it's not that," you tried to explain, but she continued.

"The first time I heard about the Order, I just thought it sounded so interesting. Fighting against evil, like something in a movie. But then we weren't allowed to ask any questions. We were told to avoid you unless you needed assistance. That's it. Not who you were or what you did or how to become one."

That was another surprise.

"You want to...be a Knight of the Holy Order?"

"I mean I gue—"

"Sister!" a stern voice echoed from behind you and the two of you stopped in your tracks. Mary Victoria suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Mother Superior!" Mary Victoria greeted the older woman in shock. "I was just showing my friend here the way to the exit."

You recognized her. For most of your acquaintance, she had been Sister Kathleen; she was a severe woman and incredibly devout. She'd come to Los Angeles from Chicago, which is where you met her, once upon a time. She had known you for longer than she would probably ever admit, and disliked you for just as long.

She had been your kindergarten teacher.

What had taken her from teaching children to running an abbey...well that was between Kathleen and God, but somewhere deep down, you liked to think it was because of you. She was not the kindest woman, and you weren't like all of the other children under her care.

You were young and not in control of your abilities yet, but you suppose that was just your Mother's excuse for the number of fires that had been started...one for each of the lies that Kathleen had told.

Because of this Kathleen, much like Jinette, had never been your biggest fan, and it was made obvious as she pushed between you and Mary Victoria, as if to form a barrier. She narrowed her eyes at you in distrust, but you just smiled innocently.

You were leaving; what more could she want?

"I think she can find her own way out," Kathleen concluded sharply. "Mass is starting shortly; we shouldn't be late."

"Oh but, we were discussing the Holy Order," Mary Victoria explained. "About her next mission."

"How many times have you been told to leave the Knights alone, Sister," Kathleen hissed at her, then her eyes slid to you. "Especially this one. Now, we must go."

Mary Victoria nodded solemnly, and followed after Kathleen without another word.

It didn't take much effort for you to reach out and feel the despair within her. You didn't know much about Mary Victoria—you didn't know anything—but it felt as though she was a candle that was slowly being snuffed out. Fighting, desperate for life, for light...unable to do anything but suffocate.

How many times had you felt that way over the years?

You made your way out of the cathedral, threw your things in the backseat, and got situated, ready to begin your journey. But the entire time, as you started your car and you dug through your glovebox to find a tape, your thoughts were occupied by Mary Victoria.

She wasn't a friend, she was a stranger. Someone who you met twice, briefly, in this long, unending nightmare that was your life.

She was also someone who helped you, twice, even if she didn't have to.

But that was a part of her vow, part of her becoming a nun...wasn't it? Helping people in need. She chose to be in this situation, chose to do good.

By that same logic, wasn't that part of your deal as well? Part of your vow, part of your curse?

You could have chosen to live the life you wanted. To indulge in freedom and happiness like every other person on the planet and to choose free will. Plenty of your predecessors had done it. But you chose to keep playing this game. Chose to keep fighting evil and helping people, even if the way you helped them...really only did more harm than good sometimes.

You didn't owe her anything.

But what did people owe one another, other than kindness and consideration and respect.

She was being snuffed out, and if you didn't help her...who else would?

"Fuck it!" You yanked your key out of the ignition, jumped out of the car, and then ran back into the cathedral.

You dipped your hand into the holy water and did a vague sign of the cross as you walked into the chapel and beelined straight for the group of nuns at the front. Mary Victoria was sitting beside Mother Kathleen in the middle of the group. You knelt at the end of their pew and whispered to her.

"Psst, Mare? Hey Mare!" She went wide-eyed at the sight of you; all of the nuns did, actually, and Mother Kathleen's face puffed with anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded but you ignored her. You were on a mission.

A side quest, Eddie would have called it. Save a damsel in distress before going on your mission. Like Taran saved Eilonwy on his quest to find Hen Wen.

"Do you wanna be a Knight?" You kept your focus on Mary Victoria.

"This is blasphemous!"

"What are you doing?" Mary Victoria hissed fearfully in question. The other nuns and novitiates also cowered at the anger of their leader.

"You said it yourself, everyone's supposed to steer clear of the Knights unless they need help," you explained. "So I'm here asking for help. I think you might be the best fit. You already saved my ass twice."

"Foul language in the church—"

"Seriously?"

"—banned from this cathedral already—"

"I think we need to hit the road before the opening hymn starts, so if you could make a decision quickly so I'm not actually crucified, that would be great?" You held your hands together in a plea and Mary Victoria sighed.

It was the longest two seconds of your life as she got to her feet and pulled the veil off her head. She shoved it in Mother Kathleen's hand then pressed a kiss to her cheek with a quick "forgive me" and then shimmied her way past the other nuns to get to you.

"You're really twisting my arm here.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically and then motioned for you to go.

The two of you made it out of the doors of the Cathedral just as the bell tower began to ring at the top of the hour and the organist hit the first chord for the entrance procession.

When you had first moved into your little apartment in Hawkins, oh so long ago it seemed, a conflict rose inside of you.

It had been empty; barebones made of walls and cabinets and avocado-colored appliances...but not much else. You were expected to fill the barren space and turn it into a home. It was such a daunting task; so much of who you were had been left behind. How could you create comfort when you had nothing to work with? Nothing to go off of?

But you had been on the road for so long, free to do whatever and go wherever you please, that it quickly became a cage. The simple act of defining who you were was something you actively fought. You hid every part of you away from everyone, because surely if no one knew who you were...you didn't need to know either.

Eddie had ultimately been the person who helped you find yourself. He saw the part of you that even you struggled to see. He helped you find comfort in a cage because it was the blank slate you were looking for. You just didn't realize it yet.

Now here you were, back in a cage that was both vast and barren, yet never big enough to provide the freedom it belied.

But it wasn't a cage for you; it was for Eddie.

A cage that he created for himself, whether he realized it or not.

One with bars that he, at first, threw himself against and rattled restlessly as he called for a warden that would never come. As he begged for the parts of himself that he left behind, that he willingly gave away. He could get them back, all he needed was a way out.

You would reach through the bars and whisper sweet words of comfort, promising that you would find the key. You gave him all that you could of himself, reminded him of what it was he left. It was everything you could spare but it wasn't enough to sate him.

Little by little hands began to pull him back, pull him away.

Claw him away.

"Please don't go," you begged. "I'll help you, just stay."

"I'm hungry," he moaned. "So hungry."

More hands flocked to him, ready to provide the sustenance that you barely could. They filtered it back into him, to repay the debt they owed. Because this was not a cage to them, this was their playground.

If you couldn't help make it a home for him, they surely would.

You tried to pry them away but they laughed at you, mocked you; they were stronger than you were, their will to keep him for themselves stronger than yours to save him.

Because as Eddie got weaker, so did you.

To provide for him, you starved yourself.

And one day, it would kill you.

Your world tilted and you woke up as a horn blared in your ears and the car swerved on the highway.

"Fuck you, fucking asshole!" Mary Victoria shouted. "Learn how to drive."

One thing you quickly learned about Mary Victoria was that she was a terrible driver.

The car swerved again and you grabbed the dashboard before you were flung out through the windshield.

Well, maybe not terrible, just...a little reckless.

"Mare? What's going on?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." She gripped the steering wheel tighter and bared her teeth. "It really wasn't my fault; this guy decided to merge last second without putting his signal on. Almost took us out. Fucker."

She also swore like a sailor.

Which was not...mutually exclusive with becoming a nun...but as soon as the two of you warmed up to each other, you learned that the careful and meek personality that she schooled herself into when in a house of God was not the real Mary Victoria underneath.

It honestly sparked your curiosity.

She had, quite literally, nothing but the clothes on her back when she jumped into your car and you left Los Angeles 18 hours ago. You had offered to stop at the abbey to pick up any of her things, and she hesitated.

"I mean...I don't have anything...worth stopping for," she explained vaguely. "Maybe underwear...uh...some extra habits. I didn't have a whole lot when I joined the Sisters, so I don't have a whole lot now."

So you stopped at the first Kmart you passed to pick up some supplies for her.

"It's on me," you insisted when she tried to explain she didn't have cash either. "Since you helped me get my stuff back and you’re potentially going headfirst into danger with me."

She talked a mile a minute as she scanned through the racks of clothes.

Would she need warm weather? Cold weather? These boots looked like they might be good for running in; would you be doing any running?

"Just dress comfortably," you explained, motioning down to your own clothes. A black t-shirt, ripped jeans that had seen better days, scuffed boots, and a canvas jacket that actually belonged to Mickey Caldwell once upon a time. He left it at Eddie's trailer when he went off to college so Eddie insisted it was fair game.

He had ripped off the patches that featured some of Mickey's favorite questionable bands and had found a few that suited your tastes more. You spent an afternoon helping him with his English homework as he stitched them on for you.

"We could be helping with disaster relief, or we could be...jumping out of the way of a creature that's trying to rip our throats out. It's a tossup."

Her eyes got wide but she understood. Her selection was pretty plain, consisting of the essentials. The most exciting article of clothing she insisted on, though, was a brown, imitation suede jacket that hung on her more like a cloak.

"It looks like one I used to have, if that's ok?" she twirled back and forth a bit.

You wouldn’t have said no even if she didn’t explain; her smile was infectious.

Then, at your first stop for gas, she insisted on taking shifts driving so you wouldn’t have to stop for the night...as long as you could grab her a pack of cigarettes.

"Or two, actually. They made me quit cold turkey, and it was brutal," she explained. "But I haven't driven in...a good few years so that would really help me survive this trip."

You got her three packs of Virginia Slims, one of which she chainsmoked during her first 8-hour shift, cigarette perpetually hanging from her lips as she cruised and swerved along I-15.

There was a lot of honking and a lot of singing along with the radio—she even made a joke about stopping in Vegas—but eventually it started getting dark and you both needed to rest.

You insisted that she take the first rest, mostly so you could have some time to think.

"As long as you're fine driving at night," she asked while she got settled.

Of course, you were. You'd spent plenty of nights wandering abandoned roads and ignoring the things that lurked outside of the vehicle, right at the corners of your vision.

You woke her up at an oasis at the crack of dawn to gently wake her up and grab breakfast, before you took your own rest that came to an abrupt stop by—

"GET OVER. STOP STRADDLING THE LANE PAL!"

Mary Victoria laid her hand on the horn again until the box truck in front of you picked a lane. Her hand shot in front of your face to flip the bird at the driver as she accelerated past him.

—By that.

"Good morning to me," you muttered.

"Sorry," she repeated sheepishly.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Iowa." She pointed to the road map that was draped on the dashboard and tapped at a certain mile marker. "We just passed this rest stop...looks like there might be a truck stop coming up...or I can try to turn around if you really need to pee."

What you really needed was to be in the driver's seat.

"I don't mind waiting," you insisted and shifted in the seat now that you weren't in danger from being thrown from the car. "Some nice driving you're doing Mare."

"Listen," she said with a warning tone. "I said I was sorry."

"No, it's funny. The swearing, the honking, the smoking. Not entirely convinced you weren't joking about Vegas either."

"I'll have you know that Sister Prudence talks about the river boat casino that was a half hour from her last convent like it's Disneyland. Nuns just wanna have fun too."

"You're devoted to piety, to God."

"Ah, ah, ah," she tutted and shook a finger at you. "Not devoted to God yet."

"See? There's some hesitation in there," you pointed right back at her. She slapped your hand away. "You're looking for a loophole. How did you decide you wanted to be a nun anyway?”

Her smile was a strange one, nostalgic almost...or as though there was an inside joke between her and...God...the Devil...you would never know.

"That's a long story," she insisted.

"We have nothing but time," you countered.

She leaned back and threw an arm over the back of the bench seat to grab the bag full of treat wrappers and supplies for her cigarettes. She lit one up and then started her tale.

“Yeah it’s…I mean." She immediately paused. "Ok so...yeah I guess I can admit I'm kind of on the fence about it. But can you blame me? It's a huge commitment, and I've already been doing it for years. But every step I get closer to the finish line...I dunno...something just doesn't seem right.

"I've done a lot of healing though, they've helped me out so much. So how can I change my mind now? I used to be...such a miserable person. You know when you just...get into trouble—well I guess you wouldn't know...which hey that how did you become a Knight anyway? Remind me to ask you that again later—but you get into enough trouble and people tell you that the only thing left to do is pray? Well I did.

"Los Angeles...Hollywood...I was gonna be a star, and I ran away from home and my mother told me...well she told me that I was..."

Mary Victoria clamped her mouth shut for a second. A split second. But you saw her lip quiver. She immediately sucked on the cigarette, a deep and hungry inhale, like she needed the hot tobacco to burn through the painful thoughts.

"Well anyway...it's actually not easy to become a star, especially when you come from nothing and you end up...racking up a lot of debt. And then I had this awful boyfriend who got me into more debt and he wasn't even that good in bed but he said he had connections, you know? He did have connections. Said he was gonna help me and I believed him.

"The next thing I know, I'm single, I've been evicted, I have nothing but the clothes on my back and maybe $20 in my pocket. I'm sobbing...like mascara running down the face sobbing. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard and it's literally about to rain. So I pray."

She rolled her window down and flicked the butt out. She then put her hands together in prayer.

"Please God, I just need a sign, I need a chance so I don't just step into traffic right now. I made a mistake, please can you help me. AND BOOM!" She clapped her hands together. "There's this light. I open my eyes and the El Capitan Marquee is right in front of me and wouldn't you know, standing in line are this group of nuns getting tickets to Splash. Fucking. Splash."

It could have been the ridiculous situation the two of you had found yourselves in or a general lack of sleep or just the bond that two people made while driving in a car together, but you both broke out in hysterical laughter. Because the image was just too much to really wrap your mind around.

By the time you overcame the levity, you were approaching the truck stop, and as you perused new snacks, used the restrooms, and filled your tank, she finished the rest of her story.

Sister Bernadette got her a ticket for the movie and dinner that night, offered her a place to stay, and then by morning was asking if she ever considered devoting herself to God.

"And the rest was history," she explained. "Listen, I couldn't have said no. I asked God for help and He gave it to me."

"Did He?" you asked.

"Didn't He?" she parroted.

"You literally jumped when I offered for you to come with me." You shrugged. "I don't think that's...I don't know, devotion."

"What are you devoted to then?" she questioned and something shifted inside you at her words.

You stopped in your tracks as you walked back to your car from inside the convenience store, but Mary Victoria kept talking, hands waving to emphasize your point as you stewed in your own self doubt.

"Why are you in the Holy Order if not to serve God? If not to devote yourself to a righteous cause and to stand for the good of the world against the approaching darkness?"

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, recollection of a thousand terrible things that you had done in the name of Goodness. And yes some of them were for the greater good, but...the rest?

What had it all been for?

She suddenly realized you weren't beside her and she turned back to you and balked when she saw what must have been a miserable expression.

"Is that what they say about the Holy Order?" you asked tensely.

"Uh..." She swallowed. "I mean...yeah. They don't say a lot. But...I mean...you're heroes."

You quickly approached her and grabbed the keys from her hand so you could drive.

"No," you said darkly. "We're not."

October 9th, 1987

The last leg of your trip started off tense. You barely said a word. Mary Victoria tried to make a joke now and again but it didn't get much of a reaction from you.

Soon you approached Chicago and the radio stations became familiar, sounds and shock jocks that you'd heard for most of your life. You didn't even second guess yourself before you rocketed your car off the highway and through familiar streets.

Mary Victoria had never been to Chicago before, so before you made your final pitstop, you took her to Gene and Judes. Maybe a chance to have a last little something nice before you potentially walked into the jaws of Hell itself.

"So...no Ketchup?" she cracked as she peeled the paper away from her hot dog. "And why is the relish...like...that color?"

"You're kidding right?" you asked with your own mouth full.

"Yes I'm kidding," she rolled her eyes. "Listen...I didn't...I didn't get to say thank you. I know...I-I gave you some shit...and I've been apologizing pretty much since we left LA, but I never said thank you. For helping me out."

"You've helped me out. You're still helping me out," you reminded her.

"Still, please...let me...." she fumbled with her words, but you stopped her.

"You can thank me if I get you back to LA alive," you insisted.

The two of you finished your dinner and then you headed for your home base. A tiny bungalow house with a half-dead lawn and a line of religious statues in the window of the front room—Saint Anthony, Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel, Our Lady of Mount Carmel—to let any curious passersby know that the house was blessed and protected.

You pulled up to an open spot at the curb and told Mary Victoria to wait in the car, you wouldn't be very long.

And you weren't.

The house was still half in disarray from when you moved in after your Nonna passed last Fall. Your mother insisted on selling the old house, but gave you a share of the money and left you with boxes filled with secrets and walls that contained ghosts while she went to enjoy what was left of her own life.

"25 years since I met your father," she said as you begged her not to go. "I just can't do this anymore."

You didn't need much. Everything you were looking for was in your bedroom and the kitchen. You hesitated as you were about to leave and grabbed a small amulet that was hanging by the door: a red horn capped with a golden crown.

You could use all the luck you could get.

And that luck immediately evaded you because when you got back outside, Mary Victoria was at the back of your car with the trunk popped open, and she stared at the contents in confusion.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You asked as you jogged down your porch steps to get to her.

You tried to push the trunk closed but she held both hands against it and begged.

"What the fuck is all of this?"

You glanced into the trunk and assessed your possessions. Things you tried to ignore most of the time, but had come to help you out in a pinch.

Jars and boxes and books. A larger tome that was a family bible-turned-diary that belonged to a great-great-grandfather. You vaguely remembered your own grandfather reading to you from it as a young child, but you had read it yourself countless times in the past year.

Two large iron crucifixes, all engraved with hyacinths, were tucked in a bag at the back. A set of knives that matched. A revolver with silver bullets that you honestly debated throwing into a river when you opened the trunk for the first time after you had run away from home. Your destiny followed you whether you liked it or not.

It was your grandfather's car, and all of his tools of the trade. And while you didn't have much memory of him, the contents spoke volumes about who he had been and why he met his demise.

"Supplies," you explained.

"I thought you were running in for supplies."

"Different supplies."

"I don't think jars of peppers are supplies," she countered. She reached into the trunk and opened the drawstring of a burlap sack. "I don't think a bag of bones is a supply."

"Keep your voice down," you hissed and forced her hands away and shoved the trunk closed. "The neighbors are nosy. Why are you snooping anyway?"

You got into the driver's seat and immediately hung the amulet around your rearview mirror alongside the existing black cord and tassel and a guitar pick on a ball chain that already hung there. Mary Victoria was quick to slide into the passenger's side and pin you with an inquisitive stare.

"Another pepper? Is that the supply you went in to get?" she asked.

"No but it doesn't hurt to have," you replied.

"It's a pepper," she deadpanned.

"It's a cornicello, it's for luck," you explained and started the car. "It's...an Italian superstition thing."

"You're supposed to be a Holy Knight, not...superstitious. What's this then?" she flicked at the cord that now tangled with the amulet. "Is it a...uh...ARGH! See I can't even think of one because it's not the same."

"They're one in the same," you insisted. "Ok, rule number one about being a Knight of the Holy Order? It's true. It's all true. Everything you know. Everything you don't. Things you couldn't even fathom? They're true."

"So God is real."

"Sure."

"What does that mean?"

"What is God?" you countered. "There could be one, there could be many. There is a Heaven and a Hell. Or you might find Nirvana. Or you could be sent to Jahannam. Or you're reincarnated. Magic and superstition and miracles and damnation. All of it exists. Or nothing does and we exist in chaos and that is explanation enough for all of the shit we see.

"That's the truth you have to face when you become a Knight, and it sucks."

"I..." She sunk into her seat, slightly shocked. Dejected? You couldn't tell. "Ok."

You had a good hour of silence as you got on the Tri-State and crossed into Indiana. But you couldn't even enjoy it because guilt roiled inside of you.

Shit.

Because she was a nun and she was devoted, even if the devotion was on shaky ground, and it was a hard pill to swallow. It had been a hard pill for you to swallow—well, your whole life was the biggest horse pill that had ever been manufactured—when your father had told you at 9 years old that everything you had been told was a lie and that you wouldn't have a First Communion with the other kids because...

You needed something to fill the silence.

You reached across the car to open the glovebox and you pulled a cassette out. An old mixtape with a label that had faded over time; it was skipping in some places but still brought you some comfort.

You shoved it into the cassette player and Ozzy's echoing voice softly filled the car as Bark at the Moon started.

"You don't have a Black Sabbath patch on your jacket," Mary Victoria said softly after a few beats.

"You like metal?" You looked over with a quirked brow.

"Eh that deadbeat ex boyfriend was all about it," she shrugged. "Had wannabe rock stars in and out of our apartment all the time. What about you?"

"I like it but my boyfriend was probably more like the wannabe rock stars than your boyfriend," you explained fondly, thinking of his stupid grin the first time he successfully swung his guitar over his shoulder at the end of a gig at the Hideout.

"You have a boyfriend?" Mary Victoria scoffed.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No I just...I don't know. I guess I have questions."

"Ok."

"What, like you're gonna tell me everything?"

"Sure," you agreed. She had told you about her life...you probably owed her some answers. You owed yourself some too, if you were honest. "Ask away."

"Is he a Knight too?" she immediately jumped at the opening. "Your boyfriend?"

"No, he's..." You bit your lip for a second. "No he didn't know I was involved with any of this. And...now he's dead so...guess it's too late."

"Oh Christ," she gasped. "I'm...I'm so sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No it's ok. I'm...it's ok." You waved her on to the next question.

"How did you become a Knight then?"

"I was born into it."

"What do you mean?"

"My father was one, and his father, and his father."

"But it's..." she hesitated. "You guys have like...you're anointed aren't you? Did they...baptize you with holy oil or—"

"My specific case is...unique, I guess you could say," you began and braced yourself to open this can of worms.

"The other knights...yes...they are anointed. They've done good deeds, so they're offered the chance to do more; God chose them to purge the darkness from the Earth. There's no rhyme or reason; you're chosen and you must go. It's almost impossible to say no. They never do. Knights are the best of the best, the purest of soul. It's fate.

"But...then there's me. There's my family. Who, if you ask anyone who is aware of the curse—"

"Curse?!" Mary Victoria exclaimed. "Ok that's not what I expected."

"Curses are real." You shrug. "Unfortunately. And they're often associated with evil right? An evil witch curses a young princess and all of that. But this...this is different. We are the evil. And the good put a curse on us. To punish us."

"And I was not expecting that either." She whistled low. "How are you evil?"

"Can I finish one thought before we move onto the next one Mare, jeez!"

"Sorry."

"Alright," you took a deep breath. "Let's rewind back to the Crusades."

"The Crusades?!"

"Mary Victoria!" You shouted and she shrank back in her seat.

"Sorry," she repeated. "I'll shut up now. But I reserve the right for follow up questions after the fact."

"Fine. So the Crusades. The quest to conquer the Holy Land, the quest for the Holy Grail, all of that. Well, it all stems back to someone wanting power over someone else. That's what happens, that's what always happens. At that time, there were no Knights of the Holy Order, there were very few who understood the way things worked; one belief rivaled another and it was man versus man instead of good versus evil. For a hundred years...more, even. Blah blah.

"And then along comes...something...a gift. Bestowed upon a select few. The power of Heaven itself. Think of...ok this is much later but think of Joan of Arc. She performed miracles, she healed people, she...she saw visions of angels and fought in battles to protect her people. Well...that...so my great, great, whatever...grandfather...was born with a power beyond understanding.

"He was called to fight in a Crusade...his power was too good of a weapon not to use. And he wasn't the only one, there were people like this on all sides...but he was the only one who refused to go. Thou shalt not kill, it is a law of God Himself. But who speaks for God? The King. The Pope. He was just one man...but he stood for what was good and they damned him.

"His blood would have to pay. Every death that he could have prevented now rested upon his shoulders, and the shoulders of his son, and his son, and none shall ever enter heaven until the debt was paid."

"Fuck," Mary Victoria coughed.

"Yeah," you laughed. "Fuck indeed. I think there's an old ass scroll in the trunk that says all of that in Latin if you want proof."

"I'm good."

"So for years, it becomes...I don't know...this legacy. Every father has a son, and they're mercenaries for whatever man is in Power, essentially. In France, in England, in Italy...and then you have, actually, Vlad the Impaler who makes a deal with the Devil to op—"

"NO! Shut up...Vlad...like Dracula?!" Mary Victoria grabbed your arm. "Don't tell me Dracula's real. That vampires are real."

"Vampires are real...Dracula is not," you explained with a laugh. "Whatever, ok Vlad the Impaler makes a deal with the Devil, or so it would seem, to open up a doorway into hell and release darkness. Well it’s all myth...the door was already open. It always has been. He just took advantage of it."

"Sure." Mary Victoria held her hands out in disbelief. "That's the most...normal thing. How does that lead to you?"

"Leads to the Knights," you corrected her. "Because Europe—I mean...the world, really—is now extra overrun with monsters and infernal creatures and bad things. And the Pope sends his chosen few, these people with the power of Heaven, to stop them.

"Now, we don't actually hate this pope," you explain. "He's...he did a good thing. He created the Holy Order. He gave these people with gifts a purpose, to do good. He called my ancestor to Rome, told him to bring his whole family—his wife and son—gave him a home and helped them set up roots. Then he says that this is the chance for penance. No more mercenary work; think bigger. Fight the darkness. Take the oath. Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace, Charity, Peace.

"And what does my ancestor do? He let the wrath take over," you struck your hands against the steering wheel to emphasize your words. "And he killed the pope. Fucking asshole."

"Are you kidding me?" Mary Victoria screeched. "HE...WHAT?!"

"But his son, ok?" You held your hands up to her. "Stepped up to the plate. Killed his own father, of course, and volunteered the family to the Order. He made a vow, which...we know magic and whatever is real...that every member of the bloodline will devote their lives to the Order, shall fight every bit of evil they come across, until the penance is paid.

"And that...is the key here," you concluded. "There's no escaping it. He said the right words in the right order and somewhere in the Celestial Scheme of things, it means that darkness will follow wherever we go, so we can defeat it, and little by little we pay the penance so one day...we can all go to Heaven.

“There’s no escaping it. Even if you wanted a peaceful life, there’s nowhere to run where that vow and the curse won’t follow. Where fate won’t find you.

“And it killed my grandfather. And it killed my father. And one day...either I get to go to Heaven, or it will kill me too and this will all be over."

Mary Victoria scrunched her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "It'll be over."

"Well it's gonna end with me," you explained. "I'm...I'm not having kids. I don't know how no one realized it before. Every man and his need to have a son and fucked a thousand years of our bloodline right in the ass."

"But why not just...kill yourself and let it be over now?" she speculated. "If you don't mind going to Hell? The other Knights will carry on the oath. Why prolong the inevitable?"

You felt yourself choke up.

"Th-thanks Mare," you laughed to try to avoid the pain. "Glad to know you're trying to get rid of me."

You saw a sign for a familiar exit up ahead and sighed.

"Well...I would happily just end it...you know? I would...I would spare myself of this mindless activity every day, I would finally get myself out from under the thumb of every priest and bishop and king who think they can manipulate me and use my power for their benefit, if it wasn't for Eddie, my boyfriend."

"Oh shit..."

"Yeah...you know...when he died I begged...I begged everyone, anyone, to undo this curse. Man did it, man could undo it. And when no one would…I asked for them to give me just one clue that Eddie was in Heaven. Everyone told me that if he was a good person, he would be waiting but I needed some kind of sign. He wasn't...he was good but was he Heaven good?

"I even wrote the Pope a letter begging for Beatification—I know, that’s a big stretch—and of course he never saw it. Some secretary sent me a Postcard back," you scoffed. "But I can't...think of him in Hell, I can't imagine him suffering a fate worse than Death because...because I love him. Because Eddie's love was the purest love I have ever known in my life. Because when I close my eyes or I fall asleep I still feel him and I will do anything, I would push myself as far as I can until my body breaks and my soul splits in two just for the chance to get back to him.

"I didn't even think that way when my own Father died. When the Vatican sent me his things, back from some mission that killed him. I was shocked; I could imagine him in Hell...in Purgatory...in some void...but I couldn't mourn, Mare. I didn't feel it, because...because that man wasn't my father...that man was the one who turned me into a weapon who had a fighting chance at something better.

"But he didn't love me. He wouldn't do this to me if he loved me." You gripped the steering wheel with a grip made of steel. It was a wonder that it didn't bend under your touch as the wrath started to fill you. "Maybe when I was born? Maybe...but how irresponsible is that? Knowing you're cursed to eternal damnation and letting your father try to fix it for you and bringing a child into the world just to let it suffer too."

"Now hey that's not fair," Mary Victoria interjected. "Hey now, hey...listen even when my mother and I were on the outs I never thought that she--"

You started talking over her.

"That's why it ends with me. It's not fate. No where was it ever written that there had to be a child to carry it on. They all had an out, they were selfish. There's even...there's even a journal of my great grandfather on the boat from Italy to America...surrounded by a thousand other people looking for a better future and a chance at some kind of prosperity. Sacrificing everything they know for absolute uncertainty. A dream that was a lie. But he talked about watching his small son play with another child. And he wondered if this new life would offer them salvation, if the curse would be left behind, so his son could be happy and free. News-fucking-flash Nonetto, if you didn't have a son, you wouldn't have needed to worry."

The road started to get precarious with potholes and fissures but you navigated them expertly. A weird fog had also started to roll in, and you simply turned your headlights off.

As if this trip wasn't already off to a smooth start. You needed to calm down before you drove into a ditch or hit something.

"Listen," you sighed and looked at Mary Victoria with openness and honesty. "Actually...don't listen to me. Of all the Knights you got saddled with you really got the fucked up one. If this is what you really want, I can help you. We can work together and...and maybe little by little I can break this curse and we can work on your abilities."

"But you just said the abilities are something you're born with," she reminded you.

"Eh...everyone has a little bit of it inside of them." You gestured vaguely out of the car. "There are plenty of people who can...read thoughts or commune with the dead or move things with their minds who haven't...fully unlocked their potential. Being a knight only involves goodness...heroic deeds...and in turn that just opens the door to these abilities a little further. I don't know what it is we might find in Hawkins, but...I don't know, maybe if we actually are able to do some good, we'll be able to see if those abilities can manifest in you."

Mary Victoria smiled wickedly.

"Ok...you know what would be cool," she prefaced. "If...if you could make explosions happen...or...or...conjure the power of the sun."

"Yeah I've seen that last one happen before," you agreed. "It's like...pretty useful against vampires actually."

"Seriously?" her jaw dropped. "Have you seriously seen vampires before?"

"I told you they were real!"

"I didn't think you were the one who faced them!" She turned in her seat and squared her shoulder. "Ok so now I'm really hoping that we face something crazy. Maybe it'll be vampires."

"Maybe."

"Or like...a werewolf...or...ok is Frankenstein's monster a thing because I think that—”

All of a sudden a shadowy figure crossed the road into the street and the two of you screamed as you hit it head on. It rolled over your windshield—cracking the glass—and off your car.

You hit the brakes hard and your car skidded to a stop. The two of you caught your breaths.

"What the fuck was that?" Mary Victoria asked weakly.

"I don't know maybe...maybe a fox or a deer," you rationalized and turned to look out the rear windshield, but all you could see was fog, somehow even denser behind you than it was up ahead.

"A fox?!" she shrieked. "That wasn't a fox!"

"A wolf then," you offered instead and turned back around in your seat. Just up ahead was a decaying green sign that said "Welcome to Hawkins" with the words HELL spray painted over the town name in red.

You felt panic start to grip you and you glanced back out the rear window once more.

You knew, more than anyone, the kind of creatures that haunted Hawkins.

Mary Victoria reached for the door handle and you grabbed her. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm gonna see if it's ok!"

"It's...listen if it's a wild animal, we can just get into town and ask if someone can come look with us." You motioned to the sign. "We're almost to town. It'll be ok."

"Hell," she scoffed. "Sure. Fine. Let's go."

Hell.

You repeated in your head.

More like home.

“Bravest hearts[s] will carry on when sleep is death, and hope is gone.” -- Emily Rodda, Rowan of Rin

Next Chapter: Descendió a los Infiernos

#aasb #as above so below #Eddie munson x oc #Eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #vampire Eddie munson #tw: religious themes #tw: death #tw: family problems #tw: suicide

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