#and mostly just refuse to base anything on a canon

[imp-furiosa]

If I were to venture a guess (and I’m about to), the attempts to standardize and catalogue Goncharov will kill it. Doing that begins to close it off. Trying to say this or that idea is accepted “canon” makes it feel less like a space you can play in and make stuff up. Maybe I’m wrong on that, but it certainly sours me on the thing to see people iterating the same ideas and not spinning so many new scenes and things that just obviously couldn’t all fit into a single film.

And like it may not die as a meme and the big stuff will still get out to a wider audience, but it’s less inviting for new people to come in because rather than just looking at a poster and thinking “what would I want to see in a 1970 gangster flick?” and making something up that fits that, there’s this feeling, this obligation, that you’ve gotta work with the “canon.”

So this is your call to buck the observation that we’ve collectively made a movie that reduced its homoeroticism to subtext. The meme’s like 5 days old. My favorite scene was the car sex scene that woulda fit in the Titanic except it’s Pacino and De Niro steaming up the windows and Scorsese shows Al jerking of Rob until he cums on their fancy suits.

[hothammies]

will byers, the resident sniper and medic - apoc au details under the cut!

---

will's role in the party:

a scouter - stays back to watch over the area during runs w/his rifle and is a backup supply runner if need be. just prefers to scout with dustin and mike

medic - normally takes care of the group regarding injuries and medicine. is very gentle :)

the angel on mike's shoulder -> knows how to placate mike the best if mike's being unreasonable or too harsh

most knowledgable about the infection and how it works -> helps with understanding the patterns of infected people, what attracts infection, etc.

party mediator - rarely ever fights with anyone (mostly with mike haha) and is usually the person people most often go to for a vent or a rant

skills + hobbies:

best with a rifle + second best with guns! -> he practices a lot with lucas but refuses to kill animals

cook of the group along with el (taught her how to cook): rest of the party can make edible food but don't know how to make it taste good

great knowledge of plants and medicine -> jonathan and joyce taught him all they know about it (they are healers)

draws in a sketchbook that mike stole from another group for him: filled with mundane sketches from life and treats it like a daily journal

likes to collect cds and cassettes that he finds around to play in the car (him and max discuss music the most) - fave bands include system of a down, gorillaz, the clash and the cure :) he's an alt rock fan!

quirks / fun facts:

him and lucas have an ongoing competition that started with their aim and is now based on literally anything -> they've been keeping score since they were nine (lucas is currently up by ten and the points are in the thousands)

will shuffles different music in the car and observes who in the party likes what so he can make his own little mental playlists for them!

him and dustin talk a lot about how the infection works. they have some very intense debates about it, especially when it comes to if the infected still have human consciousness or not (will thinks they do, dustin thinks they don't)

--- other notes: canon will, in a short summary, is a very sweet, sensitive, empathetic and capable boy who consistently puts others needs before his own :') of course, i wanted apoc will to share those attributes, with a big emphasis on his empathy, strength, and kindness. first - i wanted him to be a medic to show how he cares about other people and how he helps the people he loves as well. it's shown a lot in the show how much he cares for people and living beings (see: his actions with dart, el, mike, feeling bad for jonathan's hand after he had just woken up, etc.) and him being a healer is very in tune with this behavior. will as a healer is very special to me :') and him learning this skill from his mom and his brother strengthens the theme of family also!

second - him being good with a hunting rifle was to showcase his quiet strength and capability (i'd also like to add that his dexterity on his dnd sheet is extremely high) -> he's a non-confrontational survivor. his strength shines from afar and is put on the backlight, but no one in the party thinks will is weak for his empathy. mike and lucas, in particular, are actually quite jealous of the fact that will is still able to see so much good in humanity and life while being so strong. of course, his connection to the upside down in st is mirrored in this au as well, where he has an innate understanding of how the infection works because of experience, observation and other story spoilers...

looking at the current poll results, it seems im going to be drawing lucas and max next :D see you for that!

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

officer!els<3

author's note - meow i love this woman.

content warnings - black!coded!reader ig????, fluff, els i love u ellie williams pls handcuff me to ur bed and police-brutalize me! , text msgs from reader that are very me-coded! , mostly just based off every grumpy but cool cop i've seen in media, lots of notes from me i'm going insane I NEED HER!!!!! , there's a white man in a pic i put... you have been warned, smut/suggestive shit at the end!

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

- def wanted to be a cop when she was a kid and then was a total fucking juvenile as a teen. (duh!)

- always loved the police officers who barely ever gave troubled kids a hard time. (this is coming from a troubled kid. acab all the way except for u guys. well, still acab, but y'all r cool!) would refuse to talk to anyone except her favorites. i fully believe that's one of the reasons she would go into this workforce.

- when she got approved to start training to be a cop, u were home with her favorite strand of weed and she gave u a look like, "🤨🤨" , "can't be doing that no more baby, i'm gonna be a cop." , "...stfu and take the first hit before you piss me off..." , she's wearing a SHIT-eating grin before she takes it. (don't ask me how she passes her drug-tests!) (probably gets jesse to do it or someone idk maybe joel if she's lucky!) (def not joel...)

- ADDING ONTO THIS!^^ : every single time you smoke when she can't she'll look so sad or just side-eye tf out of you... "really?" , "what do you want me to do ellie..." u stopped smoking around her when she couldn't...

- this woman is so intimidating but once those cop dogs come on the scene she's so cute<3 . she's so smiley and happy they love her AND SHE LOVES THEM. she definitely sent u a picture of her with the group of the babies and was like, "can we adopt them all pls i love them ):" . you guys adopted a rescue pup shortly after...

- whenever you're doing ANYTHING EVER she flashes her badge at you and says something so loser of her , "don't make me handcuff you..." or makes finger guns with the sounds and GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN.

- speaking of badges, she always has her badge on her. ALWAYS. it is EMBARRASSING!

- when she got her first arrest she was so happy:3 . i FEEL like she took a picture with the fucker and everything and she looked so proud of herself. "good job baby now pls get to the station before that mf breaks out of those handcuffs he looks like he's gonna murder u..."

- this is a headcannon of mine (and canon so why am i saying hc maybe it's just bcs it's more in-depth in my head.) but she loves kids and whenever she sees a younger person at the station, she makes sure that they're ok and have everything they need.

- with that being said, she HATES the teens who don't have a valid reason to be such delinquents. lovable delinquents are her soft-spot but those... THOSE ONES😧.

- definitely is a kitten-saver-cop. hates getting the call but she responds every time.

- sends u this pic anytime u say something mildly threatening to her in text msgs:

suggestive/NSFW!

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

- the day she got her uniform, you wanted to jump her bones. she came back home, poor girl was so tired and all you could think about is how good she looked in that shit.

- like i said... the badge is with her at all times... maybe this is too feral but i feel like she put IT in ur mouth and took a polaroid of it after u were done eating her out or SSAAAWWWWMMMMTHHHIIIIING. (pls let me wear ur badge baby i'm on my knees BEGGING YOU!)

- definitely joked about role-playing jailer/jailed and then it wasn't a joke anymore. y'all tried it once and couldn't stop laughing.

- has definitely used her handcuffs on u or vice versa. she gets so excited when u pull that shit out.

- ggggg...g-g-gu-....gggggggggguuuunnn ki-

- definitely has fucked u in the uniform. u two probs have had a quickie in the station bathroom on multiple occasions.

bonus round - police!els edit<3 :

[mimymomo]

In ‘Lucas on the Line,’ Lucas Sinclair experienced countless bouts of racism and micro aggressions including but not limited to:

Had children run away from him and refuse to touch him because they thought his Black skin color would rub off on them. This happened IN THE THIRD GRADE! And he never told his parents about it!

Calmed his anxiety about being the only Black kid in his homeroom class by coming to the realization that since there was no other Black kids that meant he most likely wouldn’t be bombed

Had to install a camera in his locker because his property got defaced by a glitter bomb

Lost his first and only black friend/mentor who supported him thanks to an ACTUAL MAKESHIFT BOMB being installed in his locker that caused a janitor to go to the hospital for 1st/2nd degree burns (and the white boy who did it barely got punished)

Got teased that the only reason he got on the basketball team was because he was Black

Comes to the realization that he might’ve actually only gotten in the team because the coach has a history of recruiting Black boys for the team regardless of their skill level

Gets called an Oreo (for uneducated: white on the inside, black on the outside) by racist bullies. Erica (who apparently has also been called this) sticks up for him and is the only one who understands what the insult means which means Mike and Dustin don’t know/understand the lengths of how deep the racism Lucas experiences in Hawkins on a daily bases

And these aren’t even all of them! These are just examples I had from the top of my head!

And despite all this happening in the book, “fans” have STILL FOUND A WAY to turn this book about Lucas and his struggles as a Black boy in a mostly white suburban town and his deteriorating relationship with Max and make it about Byler!

The fact that Lucas, one of the only characters of color on this show, can’t have ANYTHING to himself without people using him to push their ships is so aggravating!

He and Erica constantly get shit talked and miss characterized by fans, get excluded/cut out of group shots, and barely get any fanart/fics about them and their struggles compared to the white characters (I could make a whole new post about the terrible way this fandom treats Erica but I won’t do that here). Hell don’t forget that the fandom constantly tries to dispute the racism Lucas received in S2 from Billy was either not really racism, just a moment that Duffer Bros. put in to “ruin” Billy’s character and ultimately can be tossed out and ignored.

The only time I ever see Lucas get any large amount of attention is either due to 1) Lumax (but let’s be honest: 90% of the lumax tag on here isn’t even about them and has now become Elumax 2.0 and most post are people praising ElMax and then being like “oh Lucas/lumax is cute too” in the tags and that’s it). 2) people creating “parallels” of Lumax to their ship of choice (mostly Byler and Mileven) as a way to say that their ship is gonna be canon or 3) to say that he’s bisexual.

And all that is fine and whatever, ship and headcanon things to your hearts content, but if you only care about Lucas if he’s helping push you ship narrative or because you think he’s gay (to the point where some people actually read snippets of the book that talked about Lucas coming to the realization that Black boys like him can be considered attractive and only acknowledge the “queer” reading of the text and completely ignored the big race element that was the main focus), I’m sorry but, that’s not cool. The fact that 95% of the Lucas Sinclair tag isn’t about Lucas himself but white characters like Steve, Eddie, Byler says everything about how the fandom treats him.

I’m just so tired.

Lucas Sinclair deserves the same respect that the white characters get!

I leave you one of my favorite sections of the entire book: Lucas learning to become unabashedly himself:

Rant over.

Edit: in my blind rage I realized I forgot to edit out the Twitter handle. That’s completely my fault. Please don’t hate that Twitter user. I’m just coming back to fix that.

[cod-dump]

I like the idea that if Price and Graves were dating the 141 would give Graves shit the entire time. But Graves is just like any other red blodded American man and one time, after a prank, he turns to Price and hands him his drink "Hold my beer". Any Americans nearby bolt like he said he had a bomb and the recruits all run too because they don't get it, but they know when someone runs away like that it's for a good reason. Thirty minutes later Graves' face is covered in bruises. Price, Gaz, and Soap are hiding behind a flipped table shirtless because Ghost is hogtied in the middle of the room with their shirts. Graves grabs his drink back from Price, kisses him, and loudly says, "thanks daddy" while staring directly at Soap and Gaz. He goes straight to medical because Ghost didn't go down easy and he thinks his eyes are swelling shut. Nose might be broken too. Ah well.

A Hard Lesson to Learn

PriceGraves

TW: Canon Typical Violence (the boys get the shit beat out of them... well, mostly Ghost)

___

It was chaos when Price officially started dating Graves. The boys suspected something was going on but hoped, prayed, that it wasn't heading in the direction they thought it was. Well, it did end up there and none of them were happy about it. Cussing, yelling, (fake) crying-- Anything to get Price to break it off.

He refused and the next thing they know 141 and Shadow Company are business partners. Shadows everywhere, Graves is attached either to Price's hip or backside, and they couldn't think of how things could get any worse. So they were determined to break things off, do something to get the two to end their relationship and get the Shadows out of their base.

Naturally, that was mostly tormenting. Malicious pranks, Graves' things being 'misplaced' and to never be found again. Food being tampered with (nothing that would kill him), his clothes being fucked with, vehicles-- They left no stone unturned.

But it seemed nothing they did worked, nothing made Graves leave. Price told them to stop or he'll make them feel like recruits. So, they turned to Plan B. Framing Graves for things, trying to make it look like he plans on fucking them over again. That did something... to Graves. It finally looked like he had enough of just standing around and playing nice.

"Can you assholes knock it off? I've done shit to you! Recently!"

The pub, of course, was the perfect place for this confrontation. Price and Graves were sitting in the corner while the boys were at the bar, of course talking shit about him and the Shadows. And he obviously heard them, it wasn't like they were trying to be quiet.

"You behaving means shit!"

Gaz's voice was slurred, they all have been knocking it back. Maybe this wasn't a good time for Graves to address what has been going on considering none of them exactly had a filter at the moment.

"You sons of bitches need to fuck off."

That spurred Soap to lunge forward, punched Graves square in the jaw. Price was there in a instant, shoving Soap back against the bar.

"That is enough."

The tone of his voice should've been enough to get them to back off. Normally it would've, but not now. Graves moved away from Price as the man yelled at the boys, holding his jaw. Even with how drunk and uncoordinated Soap is at the moment, he still gave him a good punch. The Shadows that were in the pub were only being held back by the fact Price was dealing with the boys, or else they would've swarmed Soap and maybe the other two.

Graves grabs a beer and pops off the cap before taking a swig. It was taking everything in him to keep calm and just let Price deal with this.

"Should drop the tramp back in the garbage. It's outside since you apparently didn't know."

Oh fuck this.

Graves marches over to Price, grabbing his boyfriend's shoulder and pulling him back away from the boys. He takes a swig of his beer as Price looks at him confused, the hint of rage behind it due to the boys' behavior. Graves sighs loudly after his drink before he shoves it into his boyfriend's hand.

"Hold my beer."

Price did so, growing more confused as the Shadows started to get rowdy. Graves said nothing else to him as he stepped forward and grabbed Soap by his collar, not giving the Scotsman a chance to respond before he slammed his fist into his gut before throwing him to the floor.

Chaos erupted, Ghost and Gaz jumping to Soap's defense and the Shadows hollering from all around the room. Gaz swung at Graves, Graves dodging his fist before punching him and knocking him to the floor. Gaz landed on top of Soap who was just starting to get on his knees. They groaned on the floor, and Graves was grabbed by Ghost and thrown over the counter and into the shelves behind it.

The Shadows were wild and Price was certain they would descend on Ghost like a pack of starving, feral dogs. But they didn't, they just screamed for their commander.

Graves was back over the counter faster than what anyone expected from someone being thrown into a wall of glass shelves and bottles of liquor. He jumped on Ghost and started beating down on him, Ghost stunned for a moment before he grabbed Graves and dragged him off of him, pinning him to the counter to nail his face with a few punches.

Price felt Shadows on both sides of his, one grabbing his elbow when he went to move.

"You're his boyfriend, do your job and hold the Commander's beer."

The Shadows had a great deal of confidence in Graves, and Price saw why when Graves sent Ghost crashing to the floor after kicking him off. Ghost didn't get a chance to get up before Graves jumped on him and started beating his face once more. Soap and Gaz had crawled away from the madness, Shadows laughing at them like hyenas as they did.

Price was stunned as Ghost laid on the floor in defeat, holding his face and groaning while curled on his side. That should've been the end of it but Graves wasn't done. He jumped the counter again and dug around before coming back with an electrical cord. Price wouldn't doubt he ripped it from some appliance. The Shadows cheered as Graves tied Ghost's hands and feet together behind his back, the masked lieutenant not trying to fight.

Graves stepped over him, grabbing his beer and taking a swig, Price jumping when he felt Graves grab his ass.

"Thanks, Daddy," Price's jaw dropped as the Shadows screamed over that. Graves, bloody and bruised with his face swelling, grinned as he drank his beer before staggering away.

"I think I need medical attention."

Price ended up having the boys tended to before locking them up for the night, having felt like they learned their lesson for now after that. Right now Price has to pay for the damages done at the bar and deal with the fact that Graves beating the shit out of Ghost did something to him. Yea, the boys can wait.

[celaenaeiln]

Based on the posts I've been reading, the Titans rlly dislike Bruce xD

Do you have a list of stuff of the Titans clowning/making fun/hating Bruce? 👀

If there's too many (omg is it??), maybe just your faves or those that rlly impacted you

They do!!

I had the post mostly done in my drafts when I saw your ask and decided this was the perfect opportunity to finish it!

BUT I DEFINITELY HAVE MORE!

The tug-of-war between the two groups comes from the fact that Bruce canonically has codependency issues with Dick. He honestly needs his son at all times for everything.

The source of Bruce and Dick's relationship problems all sum up to this:

Nightwing (2016) Issue #7

"I wanted to give him the freedom to make his own choices. To do things his way, even if that meant making mistakes. And then...well, then I blamed him for how difficult it was for me to let him go."

He's so, so proud of Dick but he refuses to release him to be free. When Dick manages to get away Bruce hisses and shrieks in rage and fury and hurt that Dick left. Even those long stints where Dick was ignoring Bruce after being fired or after Jason's death, Bruce never ignored Dick. Sometimes going as far as stalking him like at the circus.

This one is post-Jason, pre-Tim era.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #61

Ignoring the self-realization backtrack, it's applaudable that Bruce was even able to get those words out at all. Usually it's just heavily implied.

So the reason why Bruce hates the Titans so much is because they're his biggest threat. They have the possibility of taking Dick away from him forever and he's terrified of such a future.

It wasn't originally like this though. In the beginning when Dick said, I'm gonna hang out with the Titans, Bruce'd be like "Sure, Chum, have fun!"

Teen Titans: The Silver Age Issue #1

But as Dick grew older, there was increasing animosity between the Titans and Bruce. It got so bad that Bruce gave Dick an ultimatum: Me or the Titans. Choose.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

"I know, I know...I'm late. Titans Business. We just shut down Brother Blood for...good.."

"Save it."

"Look, I don't know how many hundreds of people we rescued from Blood's cult, but it was a pretty important mission."

"I said save it."

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

But here's where it gets worse. Bruce and Dick are too busy fighting that they both missed Clayface recovering, obviously in the end they defeat him but neither of them are happy for the oversight which leads to the final scene.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

Bruce literally fired Dick because he couldn't stand him staying with the Titans.

"Robin is my second...my lieutenant. Anything less that total devotion to this cause is simply wasting my time."

Devotion to the cause or to you, Bruce? He's freaking Batman. He's done solo runs and Dicks done solo runs as Robin just fine but for some reason whenever the Titans are involved, he loses his goddamn mind.

But hey. Bruce isn't the only one who gives Dick an ultimatum.

Titans (1999) Issue #15

Damn, Roy.

He came out swinging with a chainsaw.

Both sides want Dick for themselves. About 80% of the Titans problems with Dick lie in the fact that they want him to have nothing to do with Bruce.

Batman (2016) Issue #19

Titans (1999) Issue #15

They just want Dick's priority and loyalty to be to them, undivided. Unfortunately, Bruce expects the very same-only it's for himself.

The Titans get so angry at Dick for going back to Bruce and Bruce gets so mad at Dick for favoring the Titans. But Dick loves both of them so there's literally no winning for him. The successful periods for Dick are when both sides comprise for him.

They're willing to work together to protect him though.

Titans (2008) Issue #1

Outsiders (2003) Issue #50

The instant de-escalation at protecting the reputation of Nightwing and her girlfriend. Not to mention how it was Batman who wanted to keep the dirt off Dick.

But the issue is, like Victor said,

Titans East Special

Titans are family.

But Bruce can't bear for Dick to have a family of his own that's not him.

[blossomofhope]

prosekai headcanons list because i thought a little too hard. (mostly disability related!)

minori’s got the most godawful handwriting after rui (by virtue of being rui kamishiro) and an (based solely on vibes) only haruka shizuku and kohane can actually read it and she finds this very embarrassing.

minori also has a form of dyspraxia/dyspraxic tendencies because i do and i do what i want. (can i also give her adhd or would that be projecting too much)

an’s very much a owns-one-pair-of-very-battered-converse-she-wears-everywhere person. those shoes have seen several wars and are probably too small but she refuses to get rid of them.

both of the tenmas have adhd they used to run around everywhere as little kids and make up their own games.

autistic rui that one’s non-negotiable for me.

also autistic kohane! let her talk about snakes idk.

airi can’t read as well as the rest of the cast and refuses to admit it. haruka and shizuku ask if she wants help at all and she just totally denies things. (i’d say ena also struggled with reading as a kid and they were in the same class because of it but they met in middle school.)

all of leo/need have some sort of physical disability (obviously including saki that’s canon) but i can’t think of anything specific to explain this one :(

[buckysmith]

OHHHH COULD YOU WRITE ALEJANDRO, GHOST, SOAP + GRAVES with an s/o who was (or is) in the air forcee???

A little bit not canon but i just keep wondering how it'd be.

I’m absolutely into that idea!!! But I’m not quite happy how it turned out (somehow I managed to just think about jets- I’m stupid, sorry)

Graves:

- Graves with a s/o in the air force? He wouldn’t be quite sure about that at first to be honest

- it’s bad enough that your not a civilian but then you have to fly such an monster?

- man loves when his s/o is a small little bubu that seems weaker than it is, well and with you being an Air Force pilot wouldn’t quite fit

- he definitely ask you to leave but ofc you refuse, that would definitely hurt his ego

- but he would only think that till the moment you save his arrogant little ass

- you remember the Lockheed AC-130? ()

- well imagine that beast against a jet, not quite funny for the shadows inside the Ac-130 cause it wasn’t really made to defend itself against a jet

- You were already in the air cause you had to deal with a Jet that decided to come way to close to you, but then it decided to just fly away

- You were happy, till your husband somehow managed to get into your headset.

- he didn’t do that intentionally, it was somehow a error but you knew that had to be the jet you saw earlier so you helped

- well and it decided to attack your man, not quite an intelligent move but how would the pilot know

- after your commander gave you the ok, you would attack the jet, sending its ass back to the ground way faster than the pilot wanted it

- you would contact your husband, telling him that he’s welcome (out of spite)

- after that he would make sure that the shadows have an jet pilot. You.

- the AC-130 is called angel of death for a reason but now your Codename would be just angel

- And you fulfill that name, at least for the ones that you protect

Alejandro:

- he meet you at his base

- you had to take an emergency landing but had to inform the Mexican base first that you were about to land on

- they would welcome you, or better he and Rodolfo would

- they may do not have the jet you landed in their own military, but they would help you repair it

- while you have to wait Alejandro asks you about anything, really anything

- he’s so interested in you, even you notice that it’s not just friendly talk, this man just knows what he wants and he wants you

- But you both didn’t have much time together with you being in the American Air Force and him being in Mexico so you would leave

- You wouldn’t stop flying tho, but change your little plane to an 35 year old jet in Mexico or to some other aircraft

- it’s not the best, but you make it enough

- now together you can fight and you would

-you’re his angel

Ghost:

- to be honest, he wouldn’t give a fuck about you at first

- your just another pilot

- that would change when you safe his ass, well not only his but his whole teams

- it was a mission like every other, except that the bad guys had jets and ghost and his whole team was in an helicopter without any defense systems

- it was a close call, seeing how the missile was about to hit the helicopter

- you were able to stop the missile with one of your own

- after that you shot that asshole from the sky

- after you both are back on the ground he would thank you

- you joined 141 just a few months later, being it’s only jet pilot had its advantages

- ghost takes pride in you being a jet pilot and he’s thankful when you aid him in the sky

- (he would worry about you tho)

Soap:

- He saw you a few times, mostly on cargo ships 141 had to land on

- he approached you one time and since then you both would have a great friendship and after a while an even greater relationship

- he asked you multiple times if you let him fly (you would not )

- he’s sad till you take him with you

- you were able to talk to some people to fulfill the wish of your boyfriend/ husband

- he’s so exited to fly with you, but after wards he wouldn’t even think about flying again

- his tummy doesn’t like anything about Jets after that

- but when you have to fly a normal military air craft he’s happy cause he can be with you the whole time without throwing up

- he loves to talk about you to his friends

- you’re his pride and joy

[linderosse]

Hi there! Id like to ask a question.

I like your idea that the kingdoms Legend went off to adventure to (Holodrum, Labrynna, Hytopia and Lorule) are all in the same place or era rather haha, like they all coexist. Its rather genius!

But that makes me curious, do you have an idea where the kingdoms are located? I know Lorule is a whole other place entirely, but what about the others? Which kingdom is from the north? South? Etc. I'm just curious how far or near each kingdom is, and where Hyrule is between all of them. (Also am I missing other kingdoms?)

Thank you!!!

Yep— the five kingdoms currently entering an alliance in Legend and Fable’s era are Hyrule, Labrynna, Holodrum, Lorule, and Hytopia.

Technically, Legend (and sometimes Fable) have seen even more: Subrosia is a separate kingdom beneath Holodrum, past Labrynnans can visit the present with the Harp of Ages and have canonically traveled to other countries, and Koholint… was as real as a dream can be 🥲. And that’s not counting independently governed countries that are part of the larger conglomerates, like Hyrule’s river Zoras ruled by Queen Oren, or the Tokay island beside Labrynna.

So, background— as you may know, there are four types of non-Hyrule worlds in the Zelda franchise.

Independent government, but owes allegiance to Hyrule (Ex: Every Zora’s Domain and Gerudo Town in the series)

Actual, independent other country (Ex: Spirit!New Hyrule, Hyrule!Calatia (Calatia is not canon to the games, but is a popular fan-canon based on Link’s homeland in the Valiant Comics adaptation))

Parallel world (Ex: Time!Termina)

Dream world (Ex: Wind!Ocean King’s Realm)

The question is: which of these are each of the kingdoms Legend has visited, and if they’re physical, where are they located with relation to Hyrule?

Koholint is a dream world, and is therefore not in this alliance. However, I love Link’s Awakening too much to ignore it entirely in the Wisdomverse. What happened to Koholint will be addressed in The Secrets We Keep :).

As you said, Lorule’s different. No need to place it geographically; it’s a parallel world to Hyrule.

Hytopia seems to be confirmed North of Hyrule according to the (admittedly non-canon) Hyrule Encyclopedia. Apparently it’s also confirmed in ALBW? I don’t remember that, but it’s been a while since I’ve played ALBW so I believe it. According to the Encyclopedia, the Hytopians wear frilly clothing to brave the cold northern climates. That’s hilarious and I love it. I’m going with north for this one.

Hyrule is where Hyrule is :)

Finally, Holodrum and Labrynna are claimed by the Encyclopedia to be parallel worlds, but I disagree with this. The Encyclopedia is non-canon, and iirc also says Termina stopped existing after Time left, which I refuse to believe as well. Sure, it looks like Legend gets teleported to Holodrum/Labrynna by the Triforce in the beginning, but later, Impa, Fable, and a bunch of Hylian knights make it over there just fine and I doubt they did so using anything other than normal physical means. In the Hyrule Historia timeline (which I pretty much mostly follow), the Oracle games happen before Link’s Awakening, which means Legend sails home from Holodrum/Labrynna. But Legend is also pictured riding somewhere on a horse at the beginning. Therefore, we can deduce that perhaps one of the two countries borders Hyrule on land, and the other is a separate continent— or both are connected by land, but you could take a boat back to Hyrule if you wanted. My money’s on Labrynna being off to the West so far— the eastern Labrynnan forest border connects to Hyrule’s woods, and this leaves the southeast ocean of Labrynna open for Legend to sail back to Hyrule to, through the Sea of Storms where the storm at the beginning of Link’s Awakening seems like it could work (Legend has already shipwrecked there once before, but he’s totally the kind of guy to want to brave those waters again either as a test of strength, challenge, or punishment.) Jury’s still out on Holodrum!

I’m actually playing Oracle of Seasons for the first time right now (on Wednesdays and Fridays! 😇) and just finished Oracle of Ages last week— so I may update my views on Holodrum as I unlock more of the game’s map!

Tl;dr: Fable’s got a whole intricate mess of a chronospatial geopolitical situation to deal with here. Mad respect to our diplomat Zelda <3

[hauntingcryptids]

Safety Over Teamwork

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary - After spending months spying and plotting, The Master is discovered. Now he has to fight off multiple alien officials that he had been double-crossing. You want to help him, but The Master refuses your help no matter how determined you are.

Based On This Request - Anonymous said - Hello how are you? I would like to please request a dhawan!master x reader request where the Master has to go and do something dangerous but he doesn’t want you going with them, they need to make it so you stay in the TARDIS. (Maybe the Master has tried to hypnotise the reader and the reader has said something like “I know what you’ll do if I look into your eyes.”) Maybe he could trick the reader into being hypnotised or use another method to keep the reader safe. Have a great night/day. P.s If you’re not comfortable then I understand

Warnings - mentions of canon typical violence, me making up alien species, some suggestive material, and hypnotism without consent

Word Count - 3587

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. Requested by a lovely anon. I wrote this with the intent of it being read as a pre-established relationship, but you can read it however you wish. I hope that you enjoy!

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The Master had been engaged in an intergalactic campaign against the supreme leader of the Limaxx galaxy for a couple of months now. He had involved himself in the war, initially, for fun, as The Master would often do when it came to more violent events in history. He was having a great time playing spy on all sides of the conflict. That was until his spycraft was discovered. Now, The Master had to lie and manipulate, and maybe even murder, just to get out of this situation unscathed. 

Lying, manipulating, and murdering were very on brand for The Master, however, that was not his goal in entering the intergalactic conflict. He had originally gotten involved in the conflict after he had read about it in a book and then he wanted to experience the war for himself without the antiquated and pompous rhetoric of a historian coaching him through the Limaxx Galaxy War. The Master loved to read, but such a unique conflict like the Limaxx Galaxy War had to be experienced first-hand and not through the pages of a book, at least, that was The Master’s opinion regarding situations such as these. 

Despite wanting to have fun around the Universe, The Master had been trying to keep a lower profile throughout time and space in comparison to how he had acted in the past and in comparison, to his previous regenerations. Now, unlike then, he had someone he needed to protect from his reputation. The Master had you now. You were all he had, actually; the only good thing The Master had in a very long time. And keeping you safe from The Doctor and all of his enemies was the least The Master could do to protect you, along with generally caring for you in other situations. 

But, of course, The Master couldn’t just have a fun experience, could he? Something bad just had to happen. Of course, The Master would get too close to the conflict and the high-power players in the war and, like Icarus, fail due to his ego. You shouldn’t get hurt because of The Master’s ego, though. So, The Master had to do something potentially drastic in order to protect you. He didn’t know what that drastic decision might be, but as long as you would safe, The Master would do anything for you.

A night or two after The Master was discovered by a top general of the Limaxx Army, he returned to The TARDIS with a large gash on his shoulder and chest. It was easily healable, so he wasn’t too worried. But he used this injury as an excuse to plan an extensive counterattack and many, many backup attacks and plans and schemes in order to win this war for mostly himself but also the opponents of The Limaxx supporters. 

The Master hadn’t finished the book about the Limaxx Galaxy War. So, he very well might be the victor written within the text, but the contents of the book were soon a passing thought in The Master’s mind. As soon as you appeared in The Master’s study, fear was ever present on your face. The Master’s mind quickly began to echo your fear because you were involved now. And that just made everything more serious and more messy and potentially, if everything went horribly wrong, more heartbreaking.

“Master!” You ran to The Time Lord as soon as you regained presence of mind after the initial shock of seeing The Master shirtless and bloody. You were upset and trying to help, but The Master was already healed. He grabbed your frantic hands and put on a tone of authority even though his mind was racing with worry, similar to yours.

“Just go back to bed, Y/n. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay.” The Master didn’t want to explain any of this to you, at least not in this way. If this, being a bloody mess after a botched assassination attack, was an interesting anecdote that he told you over a romantic dinner, then he would absolutely love to tell you the story of the Limaxx Conflict and how he was victorious. But this? He did not want to tell you like this.

This was a moment that The Master had feared would happen ever since he had invited you into his time and spaceship, that you would find out about the dangers of the Universe while The Master was currently facing them. His ego, again, got the best of The Master because he never prepared for a moment like this even though he feared that it would happen. You were Human, how could you possibly understand the seriousness of a situation like this? You would want to get involved; The Master could sense your need to help already. The Master needed to stop this now. He needed to defuse your good-natured need to help and stall his full explanation of what he really got up to when you were asleep for after he dealt with the Limaxx Galaxy War.

“Okay? Master, you’re covered in blood! How is that okay?”

“It’s someone else's.” The Master blurt out without thinking.

“Oh really? On your chest? Even though I can clearly see the rip in your shirt, vest, and coat? Master, what happened?” The Master shook his head. He wasn’t thinking clearly which was bad. Very, very bad. So, he took a deep breath and removed himself from you to wash his dried blood from his torso in the bathroom of his study.

While The Master cleaned himself, and then sought out a clean, undamaged, shirt to wear, he briefly explained what he thought you would understand. He told you about how he discovered the conflict, and then how he got involved in the war. Then he explained how he became a bit careless and was discovered spying and helping multiple sides of the conflict. The Limaxx Army and monarchy were much more willing to execute him than some of the other sides, but he was still in mind-numbing amounts of trouble that the Master would have to dig himself out of. Finally, The Master emphasised how he also needed to ensure that you were safe in his TARDIS while he dealt with all of this galactic mess. Though, he didn’t appear to successfully get his final point across to you.

“This is very important. You will be staying here, while I-”

“What! No, Master, I’m coming with you.” You couldn’t believe that The Master would just leave you behind when his life was at risk.

“I need you to stay here, Y/n.” The Master placed his hands on your shoulders, but you shifted out of his grasp.

“No, I want to help you!”

“It’s not safe for you there. You saw what happened to me, do you want that or something worse to happen to you? Do you want to die? Is that what you want?” The Master raised his voice in frustration and then pinched the bridge of his nose once he realised how petulant he sounded. You gave The Master some distance, sitting down on a partially cluttered sofa. You waited for The Master to calm down before trying to make your point again.

“All I want to do is help you. I know that you will keep me safe, but I need to keep you safe, too.” The Master sighed, a hint of anger intermingled with his delight at your devotion. 

The Master loved your determination, how you were never afraid of him and would always fight for your position. But this situation was different than a little tiff about Human music or where to go out to eat or what the temperature within The TARDIS should be. This was a situation far more dangerous than you could comprehend, mostly due to The Master’s own protectiveness, and how he wanted to keep you like this. He wanted to keep you innocent and safe and away from harm for as long as he possibly could. The Master knew what he would have to do in order to keep you safe, even though it might kill him seeing you upset with him after the fact.

“This is not like that. It’s too dangerous. I need you to stay here so I have someone to clean my wounds for me when I return.” The Master walked forward, leaned down in front of you, and patted your knee reassuringly. His tone was soft, too soft, suspiciously so. The Master looked up at you with his big amber eyes. They were big and round and pleading. In other circumstances, you enjoyed seeing The Master’s softer moments, but, as The Master said many times, this conflict was serious and deadly. The Master’s attitude shifted too quickly causing your mind to question his new actions. You had a feeling in your gut about what The Master was about to do. So, you slapped your hand over The Master’s eyes and turned away from the Time Lord.

“Don’t do that!” You exclaimed.

“Do what?!” The Master questioned. His tone was still jovial and lighthearted, though you could trace a hint of frustration in the back of his voice.

“Look into my eyes!”

“Why can’t I look into the eyes of my love before this trying adventure?” You felt The Master remove your hand from his face and then creep his hands up and around your waist. The pads of his thumbs began to rub forceful circles into the flesh of your waist. You continued to face away from him but you could feel The Master staring you down and daring you to break.

The Master’s presence was distracting enough, but his use of the word ‘love’ almost made you lightheaded and willing to do whatever he said. You could tell that he was trying to manipulate you into staying in The TARDIS, but you wished that his affections were real. Maybe if you were positive that his feelings for you were real, then, maybe, you would stay willingly. But you needed to prove that you weren’t just a pathetic Human that could be used for fun at The Master’s every whim. You needed to stay strong. 

“I know what you’ll try to do if I look into your eyes, Master. You’re going to try to hypnotise me into staying behind. So, guess who’s not going to do that?” You leapt up from your seat, quickly dodging The Master’s wanting hands, and moved to leave the room. You heard The Master sigh behind you again (he had been doing that a lot today), but you didn’t turn around.

“Why must you be so stubborn?!” The Master pouted in an exhausted manner. 

“You’re one to talk!” You retorted back to the alien as you stood by the door of the study, your back still facing The Master. 

“Please, Y/n. This will be incredibly dangerous for me, let alone you. I need you to be safe for me. I have no idea what I would do with myself if you got hurt because of me, or worse.” If you had turned around at that moment, you would have seen The Master lounging, outstretched, almost seductively, on the floor while looking up at you with pleading eyes. With the look he was giving you, you might have agreed with him and stayed behind, as long as he stayed with you just a bit longer in that position before returning to the battle. But you must have turned around and given into The Master’s begging tone in a different universe. In this universe, though, you would continue to stand your ground.

“I can handle myself, Master.” You finally spoke before briskly leaving The Master to wallow and worry in his messy study.

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The eyes were incredibly vulnerable, yet enticing, parts of most species' bodies. Because of this vulnerability, that is why The Master chose hypnosis through eye contact most often. It was faster and to random people he hypnotised it often terrified them more. With you, though, quiet relaxing hypnosis sessions were common, like when he helped you get to sleep on troubling nights. It was one of the ways The Master showed his love to you. Being forthcoming with his power to completely corrupt or terrify you but never doing so, actually being kind and respectful, was such an intimate idea to him, He hurt him greatly knowing that he would have to hypnotise you in a manner that he never had before, but this was still all for your protection. So, it didn’t bother him as much as it probably should. However, with you being so stubborn, The Master would have to use other forms of telepathy and hypnosis in order to protect you.

Touch telepathy was a viable option. The Master was a little rusty with this type of hypnosis, though, especially in this regeneration, due to how isolated he had been in this life and the fact that he wasn’t as touchy as he was before. Except for you, of course, with you The Master was probably more affectionate than he had ever been in his life. The Master had only used touch telepathy on you once before, though, but that was during an hour or so long massage after a particularly gruelling trip. If The Master had an hour or two, then he could successfully hypnotise you through touch as he had before. You would not be that easily tricked, though, especially not after The Master’s first attempt to hypnotise you was discovered. Was he that obvious? Maybe he could successfully hypnotise you if he put a bit more effort into it. Or maybe he could just loosen you up before finally locking eyes with you. Either way, you would need multiple doses of hypnotism before The Master would be able to return to the conflict he started.

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

The Master slowly and calmly walked up behind you while you prepared your favourite warm beverage. He took a deep breath and then ghosted his fingers down your spine. The Master could feel how determined you were. So, The Master stepped closer to you, his torso pressed tightly against your back, and then stroked your arms up and down soothingly. More physical contact would aid in his attempts to hypnotise you.

“Are you going to the library to read?” The Master asked after a moment of breathing in your presence. Your mind was just as strong-willed as ever. You were a tough opponent, weren’t you?

“Yes. That is, until you wise up and let me join you on this little adventure.” You retorted coldly. 

The Master dropped his head onto your shoulder defeatedly. He really didn’t want to hypnotise you in this way, in such an improper way. The manner in which he saved for his enemies: without consent. Because The Master liked you, and now that the two of you had been travelling together and growing closer and more trusting of each other, The Master preferred to hypnotise you consensually. Whenever you had a rough day, he would calm you down via hypnosis. If you had nightmares, he would hypnotise you to sleep. And, of course, The Master had suggested (and had made many plans consisting of) experimenting with romantic and sexual hypnotism. But this was completely different. Why couldn’t you just listen to him so he wouldn’t have to do this?

The Master pulled the collar of your shirt to the side and began kissing your shoulder with his soft lips. With every kiss, you felt a numbing jolt rush to your head. It felt so nice and calm and dreamy, and you could feel the rush enticing you to a land of peaceful sleep. When The Master hummed against your pulse point your mind finally fought against him and cleared briefly. You straightened your back with clarity. The Master was trying to hypnotise you again!

“Are you really trying to hypnotise me, again?” You barked in frustration.

“No …” The Master mumbled into your brain.

“Really? Because it feels like you are.” You mentally shot back.

“If you would just listen to me and stay in The TARDIS, then I wouldn’t have to hypnotise you into doing what I want.”

“Get Out.” You growled in response. 

The Master huffed defeatedly but telepathically left your mind. He then exited The TARDIS kitchen with a new plan already forming in his mind.

A couple of hours later, The Master set up an elaborate set of mirrors, bouncing reflections off of each other. It was a bit juvenile and Human, but The Master knew that tricking you in this way would actually be successful. Knowing you when you got stubborn, The Master was certain that you would eventually come out to try and find him and try to convince him that you were correct. You just needed him to see your position. And eventually, like clockwork, you came wandering out from the library directly into The Master’s trap. 

You looked around, confused. Why were there so many mirrors out? You walked through the hallway close to the ballroom where The Master often lounged in dramatically, but then you locked eyes with The Master through an elaborate mirror.

“No!” You screamed before sleepiness overtook your mind and then fell onto the floor of the TARDIS. In your sleepy haze, you saw a blurred image of The Master walking up to you. Then he picked you up in his strong arms. You groaned in annoyance, but you couldn’t stop your head front lolling onto The Master’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” The Master looked you over, making sure he didn’t overdo his hypnotism. It wasn’t likely, due to the reflections of the mirrors dulling the effects, but he needed to make sure of what he did because he was doing this to you.

“You’re a meanie.” You tried to swipe at The Master’s nose but you underestimated the distance in your haze and didn’t even reach his face. 

“Yep! That’s me. Big ol’meanie Master just trying to protect his companion and the love of his life from any harm. How horribly mean of me to do that! Unbelievable.” The Master chuckled at you in this state. He had seen you exhausted before, and this was a perfect imitation. You finally were safe, and you would soon be asleep, so there was nothing for him to worry about anymore. 

“Love …” You hummed, intrigued, but completely out of your mind. The Master hummed, too, suddenly more aware of how many times he had used that word when referring to you today, seemingly absentmindedly. One thing that Humans and Gallifreyans had in common was the fact that ‘love’ was an incredibly powerful word not to be used lightly. But was The Master actually using it lightly, or did he really mean what he said? He assumed that it was the latter, but he would consider that option more thoroughly while he was murdering his way through the Limaxx Galaxy War.

“Part of me hopes that you will forget this but the other part of me hopes that you will remember. Which shall it be, my little Human?” The Master leaned down to whisper darkly into your face. Your eyes were fully closed now, directly on the brink of sleep.

“I’ll remember out of spite.” You slurred your words, but your sentiment was powerfully mixed within your tone. The Master just found your antics humorous in the most loving way.

“I guess we will see when I come back to you, then. Though, I will happily encourage you to be spiteful.” The Master’s dark chuckle reverberated throughout your mind.

Finally, The Master carried you into your shared room and delicately tucked you into bed. Your body was limp and completely melted into the plush of the decadent mattress. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible, my love. Just have a little nap. Then when you wake up, I will be back, and we can do whatever you want.” The Master whispered into your ear. 

“No. I’m mad at you, now.” You pouted into the soft covers. 

Sleep had practically overtaken your mind at this point, but you were still trying to hold onto the last ropes of your waking reality. The Master had to admire that. You were stronger than he thought you were. With some training and preparation, you probably could overthrow worlds and galaxies alongside him if you were so inclined to do so, or you could potentially surpass him in hypnosis and telepathic abilities and give him a run for his money if that was more your style. Either way, The Master definitely found is equal in you. He was certain of it.

“Fine, I’ll just make you like me again when I return. In whatever way you want me to make you like me again. Tonight’s festivities will be your choice.” The Master kissed your forehead for one last blast of hypnotism, causing you to be fully wrapped up in the folds of his sleep spell. The Master rolled his eyes at his abilities. Of course, touch telepathy would be successful when you were already under powerful partial hypnosis. He really needed to work on his skills so a situation such as this would never happen again. There was no excuse for being rusty, especially when that could cause you to be potentially hurt. But you were safe now. His little Human, completely safe in his TARDIS; that is all that mattered to The Master.

[anti-spop]

i don't think it's a very popular ship but what do you think about catra x lonnie?

obviously they had zero romantic interactions in canon, but just based off their personalities, do you think they would make an interesting couple? i feel like a rivals to lovers trope could be done between them, if written by actually good writers.

Now... that's a ship I never thought about, honestly.

I mostly think of Adora x Lonnie personally, because I feel like canon Catra and Lonnie's relationship is too hostile to me. But you know, I would've liked Lonnie to have a bigger role in Catra's arc. Or a bigger role in the Horde, honestly. It surprises me Lonnie was never Force Captain or something like that. Like maybe she proves herself and she and Catra start working together. Lonnie resents Adora for leaving as well, so maybe they could bond there? From the little we know about Lonnie, she seems cynical but also observant of her surroundings. That could've worked with Catra, I believe, who refuses to let anyone see her insecurities. And instead of shaming Catra for it, maybe Lonnie reluctantly starts having heart-to-hearts with her.

As much as I like Scorpia, Lonnie seemed to actually take things seriously. And of course, her having more of a role would actually deepen the supposed friendship Catra and Adora have with the Horde trio.

Well, this is all I could really think of, and I hope it makes sense. I still can't really see anything romantic between them, even with these scenarios I came up with, but I do think it would be better than C//A lmao.

[astralspen]

I have brought to you headcanons for Chuuya, Atsushi, and Dazai!

WARNING: These headcanons are about eating disorders and unhealthy relationships with food in general. I am not a professional and have not had any ED's myself, so these headcanons are based solely off of my research and conversations I've had with loved ones who have experienced them. Please seek professional help if you struggle with any eating disorders and proceed with caution.

EDIT: added all the tags I forgot

1. Atsushi has Binge Eating Disorder. Since the orphanage restricted his food so much, he eats uncontrollably a lot and tends to starve himself a bit in between binges. Kyouka knows and tries to help Atsushi, but I don't actually think a lot of the ada members know. Atsushi hides it well and Kyouka respects Atsushis wishes to keep it under wraps. Dazai probably thinks something is up but isn't sure, and Ranpo probably knows about it, but neither say anything to avoid making Atsushi uncomfortable or nervous. Atsushi doesn't really eat in front of people either. The only exception is snacking when he gets super bad hunger panes (I'm talking not going days with eating little to nothing, usually that happens because of mission). Even then he will only binge or really eat in general until he's alone.

2. Chuuya used to have ARFID (Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder). Because of him living in the slums until he was 15, he got used to ignoring hunger panes and limiting how much he was eating because of a lack of food, so when he was accepted into the Port Mafia, he brought those habits with him, and would only eat a certain amount at specific times, usually when he was alone. He probably only ate certain foods like bread, canned products, mostly things that wouldn't expire or would provide a lot of energy without eating much. Koyou, Dazai, and the Flags all helped him work through it so he doesn't have it by the time Canon rolls around and is careful about maintaining a good relationship with food for their sakes. Koyou also checks in on him whenever they meet up.

3. Not really ED related and I've seen this one a lot, but Dazai has days where he has a food aversion because of his depression. The thought of or seeing food makes him sick, or sometimes it's just days where he doesn't feel hungry at all. The days range from being able to eat if its his canned crab, to only drinking a glass or two of whiskey if anything (I imagine that whiskey is a kind of comfort drink to him because of the days where he drank at bar lupin with oda and ango), to refusing to eat and drink anything, whether it's his safe/comfort food or drink or not. Kunikida knows this and it's the main reason he checks in on Dazai to see if he's eaten. I don't think Kunikida is entirely aware of his safe food and drink, though, so if it's one of those days, Kunikida will just take a lot of time gently urging Dazai to eat something. Ranpo also probably knows about it and will sometimes throw a piece of candy Dazais way on those days. The combined efforts usually convince Dazai to eat a bit of canned crab, though it's always alone. Chuuya also knows and will get on Dazai about not eating. He'll also prep some canned crab and keeps a bottle of whiskey at his place just in case. Sure they're not healthy at all but it's better than nothing. The food aversion days were more frequent and worse back when he was still in the PM, and he's gotten better with them now. Though they do still happen every now and then of course.

[inlocusmads]

sitting at a park bench ~ trystan x nora (crimes of passion)

wc: 740 | no warnings, general audiences

a/n: Nora and Trystan bid a permanent farewell. That's it. That's the story. Takes place canonically - book 1, ch 18

written for @choicesaprilchallenge24 prompt - 'keep quiet'. It's more of a general theme in the story. the title is based off a simon and garfunkel song - 'old friends'.

___

The area near the taxiway was eerily quiet that day. Ruby and Luke had offered their goodbyes earlier; perhaps to give Nora some time alone with Trystan or maybe it was just really a kind gesture, as everyone knew Nora made the grandest of speeches about fifteen minutes before the flight could take off. They saw a few of Trystan’s luggages enter the plane; mostly suitcases. Nora could see the flicker of anxiety he had. He kept playing with a ring on his finger, counting the amount of times he spun it. 

They didn’t need to exchange a lot of words. 

Nora asked him if he’d been attending his physio appointments. Trystan responded with a hum back, saying he’d been much better. The scar to his stomach was still bandaged.

Trystan asked her if she’d been taking her medications. Rib fractures were no joke. Nora corrected him by saying the worst of her injuries had passed and it wasn’t a fracture at all, in the first place. She carried painkillers in her coat pocket.

They talked some more. Mostly about Trystan readjusting back to his old life. He joked about how everyone would line up to avail the agency’s services, and yet refused to take any of the credit. “Isn’t like me.” he’d said, to which Nora retorted, “Good, there might be some humility left in you after all.”

Both of them had the same thing stuck in their throat. Only difference was Nora used her silence to say the quiet part out loud and Trystan bluntly stated it without any hesitation.

“I wish I didn’t have to go sooner,” he said. “The city has been good to me.”

“Right. Yeah. It isn’t going to go anywhere.”

Trystan chuckled.

“I hope I didn’t say anything wrong.”

“No - no it’s -- it’s a very reassuring thing to say - very grounded. There is a phrase in my language that means something like that. It isn’t going anywhere.”

“What is it?”

Trystan peered at a distance. “Funny.” - he shrugged, scratching his chin. “Must have forgotten it. It is okay. I will remember it when it strikes me.”

Nora asked him how he’d feel about the scar becoming permanent. Trystan gave her a similar shrug. In a while he’d forget how it even happened. Just some sort of a memory somewhere, bit foggy to put it into a picture. He might remember a few things. A dog, a park bench, the distinct taste of an avocado bagel. Nothing much. Likewise you could count on Nora to remember a pasta recipe or a familiar taste of white wine. She’d start telling a story, somewhere to a couple of friends who were willing to keep her company - “I remember when-” and trail off, because she wouldn’t really remember much of it. Fickle was the nature of the human memory and greater was the urge to suppress anything vaguely distressing.

Trystan’s personal assistant gave him a tap on the shoulder. He gave her a firm nod, turning back to Nora. A gust of wind combed through his hair that he didn’t bother retouching.

He hugged her goodbye. She gave him a curt nod on his way up to the plane.

They had plenty of opportunities to say goodbye. Some could have involved the other holding them in their arms; trying to breathe life back into them. This was a better way to say their thank-yous and byes. More constructive. Felt more real. Trystan could go home now; scrub off the blood from his fingernails. Nora could do the same. Their little painkillers and physiotherapy appointments might just work out.

Neither of them wanted to say the real, quiet part out loud, but they didn’t need to. There was a mutual understanding. They could truly say goodbye now.

“Nora!” he turned around, “Let’s keep in touch, okay?”

Both of them knew it was a lie anyway. They’d talk for a while, give up and move on. And yet, she nodded. “Perhaps -- we will see each other sometime soon.”

A small smile danced on Trystan’s lips. “See you, then.”

Both of them knew it was a lie. Just to make it a little better for the other.

Nora stepped away from the tarmac, watching the plane taxi down the runway until it reached the busy, cloudy skies. Hands in her pockets, she walked back once again, melting into a more crowded airport - taking comfort in a familiar commotion of noises.

____

a/n: is this a cheap shot at an april fool's joke? probably lmao, but i am so tempted to make this canon.

tagging some people! if you want to be removed from the drabble tag list, please let me know <3

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me @thosehallowedhalls

crimes: @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne @peonierose @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter @dutifullynuttywitch

[virgilisspidey]

So anyways imma talk about my Pink Puppets AU a bit more because why not i dont care

Of course, Pink Puppets AU is 12 Raph centric this time.

It's also canon to Mama Leo lol, everything is connected to Mama Leo at this point, that fic is like the base of all my future tmnt 2012 projects.

You have 12 Raph having to go against his brothers while being in a new world, but don't worry!! He has the Rise brothers to help him and this time, the Rise brothers are the responsible ones :D

Which makes sense since they just went through the shitshow that is the movie

12 Raph's interactions with them start of very... Very rough.

For one he fainted the moment he sees his counterpart because he's injured and stressed, and then after he wakes up he absolutely panics and attacks the first person he sees, which is Rise Leo, who's jist checking in on him.

He only calms down when Rise Raph arrived cuz...

Mah boy look like Slash.

Slash shaped = friend shaped

It took a little bit to get him to not snap at everyone when they try talking to him.

Rise Donnie called him an asshole which almost sets him off again before Rise Raph tells him off and says 12 Raph is just stressed, which he definitely is.

His fear of bugs and the experience of getting brainwormed really put him on edge.

Rise Splinter did help to calm him a bit, although it's mostly 12 Raph's confusion as why he's short helped to calm him down.

Once he's calm he tells them what happened, and in as if on cue, Rise April calls about something that happened.

Of course 12 Raph refused to be left behind and demanded for Rise Leo to let him go.

The others say no at first, trying to reason that he's still recovering and that his emotions would just be a hindrance if they let him go.

But 12 Raph begs and begs for Rise Leo to let him come with them.

And Rise Leo knows how it feels like to be desperate...

Knowing full well that 12 Raph thinks its his fault his brothers were captured...

Just like he he felt.

So he lets him come.

They go to the surface, 12 Raph is in shock about Rise April but immediately takes a liking to her when she gets her bat out. He sees Casey Jr. And doesn't really say anything except look at him weirdly because... Where the hell is all the hockey gear.

And he assumes Cassandra is their version of Karai.

Foot Clan colors and all that.

The Rise brothers had to awkwardly explain to him that that's Cassanrda Jones... She's a Casey...

And then they have to explain Casey Jr. Is from the future as well.

It was very akward and 12 Raph laughed in disbelief. He was about to turn to his brothers to make fun of the other guys for their weird universe when he realized... Oops! They're not here!!

And then they see 12 Mikey

And the lighthearted atmosphere just turned darker.

[cartoonrival]

HEY YOU Hit me with some Julie Su propoganda cuz I'm mostly lukewarm on her character and don't know all that much about her.

OK OK ... well baseline info she's the daughter of dark legion general luger, and half sister of lien-da and kragok, who are twins and both high ranking legion soldiers. when their mother (merin-da) died and luger remarried, ld and kragok hated his new wife (julie-su's mother) (mari-su) so bad they orchestrated her death, info which was they kept on the DL for a long time until js eventually found out about it. memory situation, js is raised by other folks who actually love her and doesn't learn who her blood family is until later. she joins knuckles because she feels inexplicably drawn to him (soul touch) (echidna soulmates) so she defects from the legion to join the chaotix. the soul touch thing sucks and i hate it but this is how it goes. ill talk about my au version of her at the end lol bc things ive built on top of canon are part of the reason why shes one of my fave charas in the series lul

ANYWHO i honestly find it pretty frustrating when people talk about js as just being pink knuckles, shoehorned into the story to give knuckles an obligatory girlfriend, because it really demonstrates that they like. weren't paying a lick of attention to anything because she genuinely has a LOT of personality but since people just go in anticipating anything penders touched to suck they don't even bother to think about her for longer than half a second.

js fills a niche that, imo, could always use filling, especially with regards to girl characters, which is to say shes a well meaning asshole. shes incredibly blunt, she's pessimistic (immediately assumes knuckles must be dead when enerjak returns and they cant find him, tells knuckles not to search a fallen ship that his mother was on because shes probably dead and she doesnt think he'd want to see that). shes terrible at handling interpersonal conflict (knuckles confesses to her that he feels guilty and stressed over all the pressure put on him as guardian and she scolds him and says "this isn't just about you", which results in a minor shouting match when she really had zero intention of starting an argument), she's almost constantly beefing with vector (tbf its because hes sexist he refuses to see past her history as a member of the dark legion). these might suond like cons but i love characters like this LOL and they fit especially well in archie where people love to get mad at each other and make dumb mistakes and it just feels very genuine and interesting and endearing to me. shes rough and difficult but she's also DEEPLY loyal. she'd die for knuckles and the chaotix and the way she interacts with them always makes me soooo ........ im just gonna give some examples i can find.

(knuckles is on the phone with her)

^ this was the genuine conclusion of an argument they had and im obsessed with it because both of them suck with emotions so they both give the worlds strangest apology and know that the other means it and they move on. plus putting her arm in front of SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG while theyre confronting eggman even after watching him CHAOS BLAST, primarily because she feels like this is more her fight than his (its about knuckles).

theres def more and i could find them if i was more on top of archie but unfortunately im #narutopilled rn. BUT ANYWAYS. shes just a very fun character with a messy personality and fun interactions and she loves her buddies sm even tho she bickers with them. shes just very special. she fits well with knuckles in a way that makes their relationship actually feel plausible instead of just forcing him to have a girlfriend (tho ofc the writing is fumbled sometimes like. ITS ARCHIE. bffr. but thats the case with literally everything ever in archie so you take what you can and its amazing). also see below. BASED AS FUCKKKKKKK

and ill discuss my au briefly bc u r asking me my opinion on js and that does play a large role in how i feel abt her, but rly im just expanding on elements of her story that werent discussed as fully as i wouldve liked. her relationship with lien-da is obviously BAD in canon, but theres not a lot of time spent lingering on precisely how lien-da and kragok feel about julie-su as the product of their fathers second marriage to a woman they KILLED because they hated her so much. ive also given her much more internal strife over turning away from the legion, originally joining the chaotix planning to betray them from the inside then being slowly convinced to join them for real after realizing how much she'd been brainwashed by the legion and what its like to have people who truly love and care about you. her story as someone who is trying to find herself outside of her history as a child soldier is something that TOTALLY deserves to be expanded on and its a bit sad that it wasnt explored. but i mean really im not changing her actual PERSONALITY at all because as i discussed shes oozing with it.... im honestly never going to make the full comic i wanted to so at some point im just going to compile all the lore and concept art and stuff into one big post to share. but thats like a spoiler free taste.

she also has a gun. which is fucking awesome because not enough sonic characters have guns. people make shadow the guy with a gun but he hasnt been seen with one since shth. hello....

[rosewaterandivy]

Through Me Prequel - i. the hanged man

Summary: Steve may be slow on the draw, but hand to god, he's sure there's something ... off about you. Or, the three times Steve was a witness and the one time he wishes he wasn't.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, eventual Steddie x fem!reader in the series

WC: 5.2K

Warnings/Themes: cursing, criticism of religion (catholicism/xtiantiy mostly), religious themes, canon-typical violence, death, idolatry via smut, blasphemy, heretical notions, angst, occasional fluff (as a treat), Biblical & western literary canon and media references/allusions

A/N: This is the first of three prequels centering on the three main characters. If you're up on your tarot know-how, you can glean some info from the banner, etc. 👀 Special shout out to my beloved Jo (@jo-harrington) for looking this over way back when! If you haven't checked out As Above, So Below, wtf are you even doing with your life!?

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not. This (*) is a singal to check the footnote at the end!

Enjoy! 💜

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"I don't care how many angels can fit on the head of a pin. It's enough to know that for some people they exist, and that they dance."

— Mary Oliver, "Angels"

Wednesday, November 9, 1983

You first meet Steve Harrington on a cold day in early November. A feast day, memorializing one basilica or another according to your latest missive— it was hard to keep track, much less whether it was one to be observed. 

A shrill ring from the phone in the motel room, this side of too loud and unfortunately, it’s enough to rouse you. 

“What?”

“We have some concerns regarding a small Midwestern town, Hawkins, Indiana.”

Blearily you sit up, “Yeah?”

“Just a drive-by should suffice.”

A sigh, “Got anything else for me?”

The voice paused, as if annoyed by your tone. “We’ll be in touch, as always.”

The sound of the dial tone did nothing to elevate your mood. While presently not on a mission, you bided your time by locating relics and artifacts for future use. Yesterday’s attempt turned out to be more burden than boon— not only was the pawnshop owner a shyster but a gun-for-hire. So, no relic to be had and you had to disarm the guy, what a waste.

Luckily, Hawkins was only four hours drive from Lebanon and sounded like a pretty easy day. 

But no one bothered to tell you that a boy and teenage girl were missing.

Driving down main street, the town seemed fairly normal. But the gooseflesh running up your arms and legs told a different story. As did the telltale scent of bleach in the air, signaling the presence of some high-voltage electrical discharge— ozone.

Flipping on your police scanner, you were able to glean the address of a witness and potential suspect. Consulting the map on the passenger seat, you turn off the main drag and head toward the outskirts of town. 

In the driveway, there are two vehicles, one black sedan and one maroon BMW. Parking in front of the house, you grab a pen and a notebook along with a badge. After checking your hair briefly in the side-view mirror, you pull on a trench coat and knot it at the waist.

Walking up the pavement, you note the police tape against the double-doors and tire treads from other vehicles. Based on the number, you’d have to guess a party of some kind was thrown the night before. 

Three quick raps on the door.

“Police, open up!”

A harried, but well-kept woman opens the door. “Yes, can I help you?” She asks politely, with a slight tremor in her voice.

“Are you Mrs. Harrington?” She nods. “Very well ma’am. I’m Detective Constantine with Hawkins P.D. May I come inside?” You display your badge for her viewing.

Another voice sounds out from the house, perturbed. “Tell her to come back with a warrant.”

The woman’s eyes blow wide, hesitant to refuse her husband. Her mouth opens to explain.

You sigh, pocketing the badge and raise your voice. “Sir, considering that a girl went missing here on your property last night, I am well within my rights to search your home without a warrant.” You smile, trying your best to remain civil. “But I am more than happy to radio the Chief from my car to relay your sentiments.”

The sound of shuffling papers and a creak from an old office chair. The door opens wider, revealing a man, Mr. Harrington, bags under his eyes and tie loose around his neck. 

“I assure you, that won’t be necessary,” He says with a tight-lipped smile and opens the door wider.

With a nod, you enter, notebook out and pen ready. Assessing the home, you take a few cursory notes. Walking from the foyer to the living room, through the dining room and out onto the patio you stop— a young man in a pool chair grabbing your attention.

He looks dazed, staring at the covered pool. Legs pulled to his chest and chin resting on the tops of his knees. Dressed in a teal sweatshirt, sweatpants and socks you wonder how he isn’t shivering from the cold. 

In an attempt to gently alert him of your presence, you softly clear your throat. His head jerks upward quickly, panicked eyes locked on you. “It’s okay,” you say, sitting on a chair to his left. “I’m just here to ask you some questions.”

He nods slowly, eyes never leaving you. A dull buzzing rattling in his chest. 

Briefly consulting your notes, you lick your lips. “It’s Steve, right?”

“Y-yeah, Steve Harrington.”

“Great!” You smile and nod. “I’m Detective Constantine. Can you tell me about the party last night?”

He nods gaze fixed on you, on the hazy glow that seems to encircle your head; he blinks and scrubs a hand down his face; the image gone. “It was just a small thing, me, Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and Nancy Wheeler.”

“And the missing girl?”

“Right, Barb Holland. Nance invited her.”

“Nancy Wheeler, she’s your girlfriend?”

Another nod. 

“Did you notice anything odd about Barb or anyone else last night?”

“No, not really. She didn’t, uh, seem to want to be here.” He frowns, brows furrowing, a slight tremor runs through him, from the cold or the shock, who’s to say?

 “I think she cut her hand opening a beer, maybe?” 

Jotting down a few more notes, you nod. “But didn’t make a call or say anything about making plans to leave?”

“No.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Nance and I went inside, Barb stayed out by the pool. Didn’t hear anything from upstairs.”

Glancing up from your notes, you pause. Steve’s warmed up to you during the brief conversation, legs crossed in front of him instead of drawn to his chest. He looks tired, looks scared.

“Your room, I presume.”

He blushes at that, nods. Takes a tense breath in, inhaling the tangy scent and taste of newly forged metal - sharp and pure at the back of his throat.

“Can you point to where you last saw Barb?”

He does so, drawing your eyes to the far lip of the pool where the Harrington lot backs into the woods. There’s a tinge of ozone in the air, albeit fading, and a tang of copper. That’s to be expected from a cut on the hand, but the electrical discharge—

“There wasn’t a storm last night? Lightning or anything like that?”

Steve shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something when the sliding door opens. 

“He wants a lawyer!” Mr. Harrington shouts, “Steve, I told you to request a lawyer before speaking with the cops.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns back toward the house, “It’s fine, dad.”

Before Mr. Harrington can get his panties in a twist, you decide to take your leave. Standing, you pocket your notebook with one hand and place the pen behind your ear with the other. Extending a hand toward Steve, you smile. 

“Thanks for your cooperation Steve.”

His hand clasps yours—warm and oddly familiar. “You’re welcome, I’m happy to help.”

Cocking your head, your eyes narrow to where your hand meets his. The feeling subsides, quelling any suspicions you may have had. 

“Mr. Harrington.” You drop Steve’s hand and nod to his father, “The precinct will be in touch should there be any further questions. Your patience and cooperation are appreciated.”

And with a turn of your heel, you walk away.

A few hours later, there’s another knock at the door.

Steve answers it, waking from a nap on the couch. Eyes slowly opening, mouth like dried cotton. 

The advil he’d swallowed earlier clearly did nothing to alleviate his headache, and the nap proved less than helpful. 

At least the buzzing had died down. The newfound shortness of breath, however, had lingered.

He pulls the door open with a huff to reveal none other than Chief Hopper and his deputy.

“Afternoon, Steve,” he greets, eyes scanning the entryway. “Your parents home?”

Steve shakes his head, rubs the sleep from his eyes. “A detective already stopped by, earlier today.”

Hopper’s lips pull tight. “Huh.” He nods to the deputy and they leave to assess the scene, “Well, s’it alright if was take a look around here?”

He sighs, growing weary. “Yeah, sure.”

“Get some rest kid,” the Chief says and turns on his heel to go.

Steve shuts the door and drags himself upstairs. Falls face-first into bed with hopes to sleep off his headache and exhaustion.

Doesn’t hear the phone ring or Nancy leave a message.

In fact, he sleeps for three days. Specters of light dancing behind the darkness of his eyelids, and wakes with dried blood in his ears.

Sunday, January 1, 1984

He recognizes the buzzing first, the reverberation lodged somewhere behind his ribs. Knows the headache is likely to follow and shoves his sunglasses on, as if that could possibly help.

Steve’s idling in the parking lot of St. Mary’s waiting for Nancy while she attends Mass. Something about a feast for Mary or the circumcision of the Christ-child, he stopped listening and looped the curls of the telephone cord around his finger.

Parents already gone after the Christmas holiday, never staying longer than necessary.

He’d hemmed and hawed at all the right parts, while scanning through the paper for showtimes. Circled Scarface— as if she’d see that, Silkwood— a maybe, if he’s being honest, and finally Terms of Endearment— god help him.

And now, it was 30 minutes to showtime, and she was running late. 

In the distance, he sees a bright flash of light. Hears the rattle and hum that follows.

Soon after, a black impala pulls into the parking lot. Correction, a smoking impala peels into the lot, sliding into a nearby parking spot expertly.

Well, that's new.

He watches as you exit the vehicle, slowly, casually, not with haste. Brushing the plumes of gray smoke aside flippantly, as if it wasn't cause for concern. A pair of sunglasses affixed to your face, frames and lenses dark resting on your nose and cheekbones. 

A tiny lift of your crimson mouth is all it takes to send the blood rushing to his head. You nod in greeting to the congregants as they exit the church, as they shake hands with the priest and visit in the narthex. 

You share a look with the priest, meaningful and urgent.

A tingling sensation as Nancy opens the door and slides into the passenger seat.

“Sorry about that.” She leans over to kiss him on the cheek, but Steve can’t stop staring at you.

Thank god for sunglasses.

“You okay?” Her voice is tinged with concern.

“Yeah, fine.” He says absently, shifting the car into gear, “Thought I was getting a headache but—”

“Another one?”

Steve sucks his teeth, he really doesn’t want to have this conversation again. “It’s not a big deal Nance.”

The tension in his neck and shoulders alleviated, a dull roar in his ears. 

Pulling out of the parking lot, they pass where you’ve parked. His sunglasses slip minutely, just enough for him to glance at you over the bridge of them.

Catching his eye, you send a redolent wink in response.

“Do you know her?”

He clears his throat, letting the pedestrians pass by. “Uh, maybe?” 

Nancy turns quickly, hazarding a glance, licks her lips while Steve clenches his jaw.

“Wow,” She breathes. “She’s—”

Steve speeds out of the parking lot like a bat outta hell. And Nancy never got to complete that thought.

Saturday, November 3, 1984

He doesn’t see you again that year, but Nancy does.

Saturday, June 29, 1985

The heat on this bus is oppressive. Offensive, even.

Even more so combined with the sweat 70-odd middle schoolers. The green ringer t-shirt with the unfortunate goldenrod yellow collar wasn’t helping things either. But, if you’d known all the particulars, you wouldn’t have taken the job.

Bagging hellspawn in the wilds of Wisconsin wasn’t worth dealing with a bunch of tweens who were hormonal and struggling to develop something called empathy.

They were mean in a scarily accurate and precise way.

“Okay twerps!” You raise a hand in the air, and count it off, “1, 2, 3, eyes on me!” 

You lean against the back of the seat, facing the kids as their conversations drop to a murmur. Clipboard in hand, you flip through the brightly colored papers before addressing them once more.

“We’ll be coming to our final destination of Hawkins, in a few moments.” You pause to wipe your brow, “Couple of things to keep in mind: take only your stuff and no one else’s. Locate your adult person, parent or guardian, and then…”

You wait as the bus hisses to halt in front of the high school. 

“Hey, sit back down Henderson, I’m not done yet.”

He grouses, crosses his arms and reluctantly sits.

“Right, so you find your adult and then check-out with me. Get it?”

“Got it!” They yell back and then it’s off to the races.

You brace yourself against the onslaught of tweens rushing toward the exit, clipboard clutched to your chest.

After the deluge, you scramble off the sticky plastic seat. “Thanks Larry!” You call to the bus driver and walk down the aisle, making sure no one left anything behind.

A radio crackles to life a few rows ahead of you.

“Dustin? Do you copy? Over.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab the hunk of plastic and thumb the call button. “Uh, roger that. Breaker one-nine. Henderson left his walkie on the bus. Over.”

Static and then.

“Shit.”

Shoving the behemoth in your back pocket, you step off of the bus, clipboard at the ready to check-out the campers.

Swamped with beleaguered kids and frazzled parents demanding medications and prescriptions, and mailing addresses and so forth, that you barley register the crackle and static from the walkie.

“Can you uh—” You wag a finger at an overly eager parent and pry the thing from your pocket. “What?”

“... Are you seriously mad right now?”

“Yes!” You sputter, rolling your eyes at the voice over the radio. “I’m kind of trying to do my job here.”

A laugh. “Funny, I thought you were a detective.”

You pale, a dull roar crashing through your ears. The voice is warm and melodic, slow like honey.

Handing off the clipboard to a junior counselor, you peer across the blacktop. And spy a figure leaning against the hood of a red car wearing black sunglasses. A smaller figure, jumping and waving at you in, of course, green and yellow.

“But then again.” The fuzz of static. “You were getting cozy with the padre, so maybe a change of pace. You a novitiate or just confessing?”

You refrain, with difficulty, from rolling your eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

Dustin whining when it clicks back on, “C’mon man.”

“Dinner.”

A scoff, “You wish.”

“Clearly.”

His response brings you pause, unusually forthright.

Lip pulled between your teeth, you leave him hanging for a minute and mentally sort through all the reasons why you shouldn’t.

Potential murderer - they never did find Barb Holland.

He apparently hangs out with Henderson—too many questions there to unpack there, but mainly: … why?

Already has a girlfriend, Nina… Nicole?

It would distract you from your work, but all work and no play makes you restless, and a little reckless. Speaking of which…

Pressing the call button down, you sigh. “Counter offer. I’ll allow you buy me a late lunch at the diner.”

You remember seeing a payphone somewhere around there and it’s public, so if it goes south you’ll have an easy out; you make plans to befriend the waitress, just in case.

The smugness radiates from his voice. “We have got to work on your negotiation skills.” 

A crackle of static. You make a big show of turning the walkie’s dial off and shoving it back into your pocket before going back to work.

Following the directions he’d sent down with Dustin when he collected his precious walkie-talkie, you pull up to a place called Enzo’s.

Scanning the parking lot, your lips pull into a scowl when you see him.

Ah. There he is. You slam your door shut. That motherfucker.

Grinning like he’s the cat that caught the canary and goddamnit, being that attractive when smug shouldn’t be allowed.

“This isn’t what I agreed to.”

“Huh.” He cocks his head, “You don’t say.”

“What’re you playing at Harrington?”

He shrugs, hands shoved in the pockets of his too-tight jeans. You make the mistake of keeping his hands in your eyeline, looking down as you do so, and audibly gulp at the sight. Those jeans sure are tight, aren't they?

“My eyes are up here.”

You frown, and he laughs. Walks you into the restaurant— holds the door, and pulls out your chair, like a real gentleman.

A waiter quickly stops by, taking drink orders and rattling off the specials. You glace around the dining room, feeling out of place amongst the off-the-shoulder tops and high heels. Crossing your Converse-clad feet on top of one another, you stow them under the table and out of sight.

At least you weren’t wearing the ‘CAMP KNOW WHERE ‘85’ t-shirt and shorts any more.

Small miracles.

“Oh,” You say before the waiter, Kevin, goes to his next table, “Is there a payphone around here? I need to make a quick call.”

“You can use the bar phone,” He points to the bar by the hostess station. “Chris will be happy to help you.”

“Thanks!”

Steve eyes you as you stand up to leave, “Better be local distance or Enzo’ll be mad.”

“Bite me.”

He sips his drink. “Only if you ask nicely.”

With a roll of your eyes you leave him at the table perusing the menu.

Rapping your knuckles on the bar top, you smile as the bar tender approaches. “What can I get you?”

“Kevin said I could make a call from here?”

“Oh, sure.”

He leaves to get the phone and slides it in front of you before assisting another customer. You punch in the 618 area code followed by the all-too familiar number and listen as it trills.

Murray, of course, answers on the final ring.

Asshole.

“Behold!” He crows, “She brings me good tidings of great joy!”

“I hate you.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, yeah. What else is new?”

You turn back to look at Steve, he, annoyingly, waves. You reply in kind, waving your fingers before flipping him off.

“Not cursed? Bloodsick? Howling at the moon?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Still a messianic specter, sorry to report.”

“Sooooo.” You drawl, “This is your way of telling me you’ve got nothing.”

“Uh, huh.”

“And there’s no news.”

“Yep.”

You sigh, resting your forehead against the smooth lacquered wood of the bar. No jobs, no prospects, just great.

“Where are you staying? I’ll give you a ring when I get something interesting.”

You hum and stand back up. “Dunno Murray. Was kinda counting on a job to get me outta this town.”

Chris slides a drink down to you. Tequila, if you had to guess. Down the hatch it goes. You nod in thanks.

“Well, call me when you’re settled. Who knows, a slow summer might do you some good.”

“Ugh.” 

You hang up the phone with a clatter and turn back to the table with a huff.

Under the evening sunlight scattered by a canopy of leaves and panes of glass, he rests his hand on your bare shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly.

Steve shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be as cavalier with his hospitality and his attention. Doesn’t know you from Adam and has already offered up the guest room.

He’s not normally this sloppy. But after things had gone sideways in ‘83 and then gone to shit in ‘84, Steve found himself slipping. Always looking over his shoulder, wondering when you’d blow back into town.

The detective turned nun turned camp counselor (Dustin swore you made the best s’mores) turned… well, whatever this was.

Not such a mystery anymore.

There is heat. There is the frame of his bed cracking. Carpet burns on his knees and back. Damp hairs on the nape of your neck. Bruises and bite marks and scratches all over him and strangely none on you, but not for lack of trying.

When he holds your torso against his, you grip him right back, and the pressure makes him feel like he could snap in half. It is wild and ferocious, tension sparking like a snarling animal ready to pounce.

He doesn’t call you darling or baby or sweetheart because those servile names feel so discourteous to what you actually are (and it’s only an inkling, but if he’s right—). He only pants and grunts and whispers fuck, fuck, fuck like a prayer.

“Don’t hold back on me now, Harrington.” You laugh, licking the sweat dripping down into your mouth. “You’ve always been honest. Go on, tell me what you want.”

He fists your hair from behind, pulls a growl from your throat, tangles his legs between yours as the two of you lie on your sides and goddamn it, he fucks you like he could die tonight. The sound of your ass slapping the smooth plane of his torso rings like a bell through the room. Your fist finds a handful of his hair and wrenches him away. You hold him down and crawl on top with a low chuckle.

“Tell me what you want.”

It’s futile to fight you. You are faster and stronger and beneath you, in the vastness of his own room, you could swallow him whole and he would let it happen.

“I want you.” Steve breathes, raspy and raw, grabbing your shoulders in an attempt to pull you down. You bat him away and lean back instead, propping up on your feet, knees apart, showing him the entirety of your body. Gorgeous. Marble smooth. Hard as granite, but flecked with gold and dappled light.

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat.

You look cold in the way a statue might, but in the center where you are hot and wet, he could devote himself to forever. 

“I want you now.”

With a savage grin gracing the transcendent beauty of your face, you allow him this request. Steve Harrington, merely mortal, succumbs entirely to your touch. His body melts into yours, shudders with reverence for your power and gravity, and he feels like he could burst apart inside of you.

Your breath is all he can hear. Your sweat is all he can taste.

You are ethereal.

And he will worship you to the end of his days.

Thursday, October 31, 1985

The bells chime on the door of Family Video before he can say that they’re closed and yes, they’re also sold out of Ghostbusters and Beverly Hills Cop.

Robin had already clocked out, picked up by some friends from band for a Halloween party, so it was just Steve closing up.

Too distracted by counting the till to acknowledge the buzz in his chest, the tension melting from his body. A distinct lack of headaches for a few months now too.

“Steve.”

A soft drip on the floor, like a leaky faucet when he glances up.

And you’re stumbling on the carpet like it’s moving beneath your feet. You’re trying to give Steve a reassuring smile and only getting across a grimace. 

From what he can tell, at least.

Because you are absolutely, positively covered, head to toe, in so much blood and viscera it’s no longer red but black, dripping off of you like sludge where it hadn’t already dried. The whites of your eyes and teeth are visible, and that is not an image he necessarily wanted to have of you.

Ever, really.

“I’m alright, Steve,” You attempt. Your teeth are chattering.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Steve replies, shutting the register drawer with a flick of his wrist and shoving the deposit in the safe.

“This, uh,” You glance down at your current state, frowning.

“Not yours?” He guesses, stepping out from behind the counter, paper towels in hand. “Well, I’d hate to see the other guy.”

You rasp a laugh that quickly devolves into a cough.

“Yeah,” You say once you’ve recovered, “Totally nailed him.” 

He can see as you waggle your brows, underneath the layers of blood, dirt, and grime— dried blood pulling your skin taut as it moves. Steve sucks his teeth.

“I don’t even wanna know, do I?”

Delirium is definitely sinking in because you laugh, recalling the nail gun and the thunkthunkthunk of steel driving into flesh, muscle, and bone. The screams and wails, followed by the death-rattle. His hands are on his hips as if he disapproves, worry evident in his brow. 

Being the liaison between humans and other beings (part-time, at least) means that the messenger should never have the urge to endanger a human or else it would totally compromise the position. And yet here you are, fantasizing about Harrington’s beautiful, well, everything.

Hazards of the job. Strictly speaking, the types of folk you deal with aren’t necessarily human. Technicalities, and all that.

“Okay champ,” He says, wiping at your face with a dampened towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then to bed.”

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from your throat. “I’m not human, therefore, I do not require sleep.”

“Sure,” Steve nods along with your yammering, paper towels coming away equal parts black and bloody. “Whatever you say.”

Steve never pegged you for a sleep-talker, or whatever the hell this was.

“JAIDA, DE BAB DE ILS, DLUGA UMADEA PAMBT STEVEN, OD TABAORI AQLO BRANSG NOTHOA STEVEN, DORPHAL TOX , ASOBAM ILS DLUGA IEHUSOZ.”*

Foreign language aside, he has no idea what is going on.

Bright shafts of white light emanate from your eyes, he can barely see your pupils anymore, in their place a gold band circling your temples adorned with rapidly blinking eyes, and he has to squint and shield himself with an arm from the illumination.

He backs away, slowly, so as not to startle you. But clearly your attention is drawn elsewhere, what with all the eyes and the—

The fuck?

The… hovering. Because you’re not seated on the bed anymore, the mattress doesn't even dip with the suggestion of weight. And there is a considerable distance between your crossed legs and the sheets.

He feels nauseous and dizzy. An ever-present buzz along his skin and thrumming from the inside out. Hears the beating of wings, the shuffling of feet. 

Steve clamps his hand over his ears, hating the damp squelch of it, just hears his blood rushing and heart beating instead. Wills his eyes closed, turning away, impossibly, from your glorious display.

Takes deep breaths and counts to 100. Again. And again. And again.

The touch of your hand on his arm is so light, that it doesn't even register. 

Steve comes to gradually, only to find you not covered with a halo of eyes and clearly abiding by the laws of gravity. 

Did he hallucinate all of that?

“Steve,” You whisper, hand rocking against his shoulder. “Steve, wake up.”

Was it just a dream?

He grumbles, half-waking and bats your hand away. “‘M’up.”

“Yeah,” You laugh. “Okay, you’re up.”

A shake of your head as you sit back against the bedframe. 

Steve stretches, skin skimming against the worn sheets and feels perfectly sated. Doesn’t recall falling asleep or how he got into bed though.

Remembers seeing you at work, he was closing… Your bright eyes and teeth… And not much else. Maybe something about blood, if he concentrates.

“So.”

You’re seated a careful distance away from him on the bed. Legs fallen lazily onto themselves, hands open and resting against your knees, like one of those yogis he’s seen around town.

“You gave me quite the fright there.”

“Could say the same to you,” He counters, voice raspy with sleep. “What was—”

“Meditating.” You’re quick to answer him.

He arches a quizzical brow. “Meditating. Really?”

Bottom lip pulled and worried between your teeth. “It’s a form of introspection. Communing with your higher states of consciousness.”

“Riiiight. We’ll call it meditating. For the sake of argument.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

He shrugs, rolls his neck and shoulders. “I never said that.” 

You squint, staring at him. Your hand comes up to grasp his jaw and slowly turn his head. Face remaining impassive, you cluck your tongue and rise from the bed.

“Stay there.”

The commands thrums through him.

Steve watches as you leave the room, heading across the hall to the guest bath. Hears the water running from the faucet, the wringing of a damp rag. Soft footfalls herald your return, plopping back on the bed and dabbing the washcloth against his jaw and ear.

A tap against his chin. “Other side please.”

You do the same to his opposite ear, humming to yourself under your breath. Thunder sounds in the distant night, a storm rolling through. 

Deeming it a job well done, you toss the cloth into the hamper. White terrycloth tinged rosy red. A cool hand turns Steve this way and that, your eyes darting across your handiwork.

“How’s your head?” You ask, voice soft.

“Fine.” Shakes his head, in proof, rattles his brain around. “No complainants.”

“Mmm.” You hum. “No migraines or auras?”

“Not for a while now.” He clucks his tongue, “But I didn’t tell you about those.”

Ah. Now he’s caught you out.

Your mouth hangs open, gaping like a fish. 

“Hey,” His hand settles over yours, warm and familiar. “It’s fine. You’re just … perceptive.”

A laugh, the rustling of wings somewhere. “Is that so?”

Steve pulls you toward him, the air punched from his lungs as your shoulder collides with his chest. You apologize profusely, rearing back and away from him. 

He tugs you back into his embrace, both arms settling around you and falling effortlessly at your hips. Feels a pleasant glow at your temples, sponges a kiss there. Catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, your image seemingly replaced with iridescent reflections of light. A crown of fire round your head. 

And is alarmingly at peace with it all.

Friday, November 1, 1985

The next morning you’d already left by the time he woke up. 

A glass of water, a crumpled scrap of paper, and business card were on the bedside table. He picked up the water, gulping it down readily and scrambled for his glasses. 

He grabbed the papers, the larger one seemingly covered in glitter, dust? Something golden getting all over his hands and sheets. Squinting because he never did get to wiping off his lenses, Steve read the business card first. Simple and to the point, nothing he didn’t already know.

The scrap of paper however, was beyond him. 

Well, shit.

He dials Robin, figures if anyone could translate, it’d be her. Then calls the number listed on the card as he waits for her arrival. 

An annoyed voice answers. “Ugh, this better be good, Harrington. I’m a busy man.”

“Yeah, who is this?”

“That’s not important.”

“What do you mean? How is that—” He sits up, cradling the phone between his shoulder and jaw.

“How did you get this number?”

“Uh, Constantine. How else?”

Whomever he’s speaking with roughly pulls the phone from their ear and mutters a litany of curses. Surprisingly few in English.

He takes a breath, waits for the conversation to resume.

“Okay, say I believe you Steve. How do you know Constantine?”

Steve arches a brow, devotes all of a few seconds to thought before saying, “Well, we’re uh, involved, I guess, and then she showed up to Hawkins dripping in blood last night.”

The next thing he hears is the sound of something smashing to the ground, quickly followed by a “Shit-cock dumbass motherfucking—” before the line drops dead.

*Highest God, of your dominion, give strong towers unto Steven, and govern your guard amidst Steven to look upon him, whom Thou givest mercy.