#and now there’s some 8 year old reading him like a book and he hates it 🤣 kid over here like you like my mom don’t you? and Simon goes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tadpolesonalgae · 8 months

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 7

A/N: Right, this might get a little confusing, but you know how we (English speakers) kind of went from Latin, to old English, to Now English? I’m substituting those for the Old Language, ‘Middle Language’ (the transitional phase—completely made up), and whatever the common tongue is for Prythian? Yeah, sorry about that!

Warnings: none…? I don’t think…?

Word Count: 5,587

-Part 6- -🌌🌠- -Part 8-

You stare at the page, heart in your throat.

Stare at the page, and reach for a pen.

Who is this?

Ink stains the white paper, and stupidity heats your features. He probably left it as a taunt. It’s not like he’s going to respond. You groan, setting the pen down, covering your face with your hands. Mother above. Definitely not your smartest moment. Reach to flip the paper over—not wanting to be reminded of your naïveté.

More ink has appeared, just below your scribbled question.

You may hide your intelligence around your family, but that won’t work with me. Smarten up.

The words burn your features. Scowl at the paper.

Forgive me for not anticipating the paper to talk back, Eris.

It vanishes the second you’ve written the sentence, leaving you blinking at the empty space on your desk. Winnowing isn’t possible within the House of Wind—you’ve heard both Rhysand and Feyre say it before. Yet note passing seems completely acceptable, for some reason. You suppose no harm can derive from simple exchanges.

You’ve been surrounded by magic for nearly two years. It’s shameful to still be taken aback by its multi-faceted ways.

A reluctant smile gilds your mouth. That’s Eris alright. Readjust your hold on the pen.

And it’s embarrassing to rely on stupidly long words in attempt to prove your intellect. Just say it’s versatile.

The parchment disappears, then returns. Nothing’s been added.

Amusement brightens your mouth, raising the writing instrument, poising it to attack. The words dance on your tongue, weapons to provocation: You have a bad attitude to being spoken back to. But you shake your head, instead choosing compromise for your next reply.

Did you want something? I doubt you simply dropped in to say hi. Unless this is your way of making sure I got the book?

Perhaps it was my way of seeing where you fall in this alliance.

Brow draws together. He obviously means the alliance between the Night Court and him, but where do you fit into it all? How does this show your placement? What does he even mean, where you fall? Take a deep breath, release it. It will do you no good to fall for his own provocation.

I hope you were satisfying enlightened, then, you write back.

Quite.

Stare at the neatly scripted response. He’s leaving the conversation for you to direct. First thoughts go to where he acquired the book, but somehow you feel that’s not the direction he wants you to take this in. So, sighing, you stumble straight into the trap he’s laid out.

Why haven’t you told anyone?

Paper vanishes again. Takes a minute to reappear.

It’s pretty blackmailing material. Why waste it in common conversation?

Lips purse together as you read his reply. Manipulative indeed.

Whatever you think you’ll be able to extort from me, I can guarantee you’ll end up disappointed.

Not the family favourite?

Blink at the speed of the response. Like quicksilver. Vague amusement warms your chest—how clear the mockery is. Disconcertingly comforting to know he doesn’t change. The same in every form. Precious constancy. Lower the pen to parchment.

I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?

And I suppose you’ll hide beneath the guise of observation, now?

It certainly isn’t warfare. I’d think you’d be practiced at spotting pretty, bladed words.

Again, the parchment vanishes, leaving you in the silence of your own room. Feet tap anxiously upon the clear wood, leg vibrating as you wait on him. Realisation smacks you upside your jaw—you refuse to sit here wasting precious seconds for whatever nihilistic response he carves out for you. Instead, you turn to the anthology, flicking to the index, peering at titles. Searching for one that will catch your eye.

I’m flattered—you’ve sharpened your tongue since we last sparred.

Roll your eyes. Lips quirking at the inherent Eris-ness of the response.

Wooden swords will only serve me for so long. Why not experiment with steel in a controlled environment?

The parchment vanishes, and takes its time to reappear. Time you spend scanning titles, pondering their contents. Maybe you should ask why he gave it to you in the first place. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart.

Paper reappears.

You think merely because there are entire courts between us that makes you safe?

Peer at his reply—try studying it. Does he want you to be wary of him? It seems unlikely, somehow. He wouldn’t be able to get anything from you if you’re afraid of him. He should be encouraging you to feel at ease speaking with him if he wants something.

Do you make a habit of being as unpleasant as possible to every person you encounter, or am I just lucky?

A smile warms your mouth as the paper vanishes, fantasising how irritated he might become. From your words! Exhilarating!

Eyes land on a title that piques your interest: Movement of Light. Brow narrows with interest, flipping to the registered page number eagerly. Upon the parchment, beside the tightly knitted words, lays a neat diagram. It appears to be of a rectangle with two small holes punctured through its thin mass. Interesting…

Do you make a habit of keeping secrets from your family?

Lips purse. Cutting to the core, again. Manipulative as he may be, he’s certainly skilled at finding the right bruises to target. You wonder if it’s a skill he’d been taught through books or word of mouth, or if, perhaps, it was a nastier kind of education. Shake your head free of thoughts, pulling away from the book.

Having no secrets at all is stupidly idilic. Are there any other misconceptions you would like me to clear up?

You’re surprisingly cynical for your age.

Strange how having one’s mortality ripped away will do that to a woman.

Even you can hear the bitterness bleeding through. But the words have been written, and the paper has disappeared, so there’s no use trying to take them back. Even if you’re mentally cursing yourself for allowing that kind of opening. Surprised at how easy it is to be caught up in conversation with him. Or sparring, as he so eloquently puts it.

Wonderful immortality not treating you well?

Again, with the taunting. Amusement and something else prickles beneath your fingertips. Irked.

I’ll admit, it’s not quite as spectacular as I might’ve thought once upon a time.

That seems measured enough.

I thought humans were raised to hate us.

Observe the words—how they sit on the parchment. The contrast between your short scribbles and his elegant font.

Might a deer not wish for a wolf’s strength?

Parchment again vanishes. Once you’ve counted to three, you turn your attention back to the book, scanning the passage of writing. Brows narrow at the leap in language—words you’re unfamiliar with. A photon? Maybe it would be better to start from the beginning. Where’s a damn glossary when you need one?

Paper reappears—you take a moment to pull away from the volume.

Have you always been in pursuit of grandeur?

Brow narrows at the question.

I’d say I’ve always been rather passionate about not starving. So I suppose I did once think having three hot meals a day would be utter luxury.

I would have rather rotted away than be forced to live amongst vermin.

A surprised laugh flutters from your chest, amusement sparking within you again.

You’re much too stubborn for such a miserable end, Eris; too bitter to resign yourself to such a fate, either.

Parchment vanishes. One. Two. Three. Return to the volume, start at the beginning. Where your eyes were intended to land. Sighing, you scan the title: The Foundations of our World—Stuff. Brow narrows, lips quirking upward at the vagueness of it. Stuff. Such a lack of precise articulation, yet here it is, in an anthology of noteworthy discoveries. Somehow, this piece had been selected as important; important enough to be the base for the entire book. Strange…

Eye roll across the tightly stacked letters, mind pulsing as words soak into your brain, thumping dully as blood rushes through your ears. Take everything at it’s basest nature, reduce it down to the fundamentals, and what sort of building blocks are you left with? What makes up the world as we see it?

‘Take the prefix a- from the middle language, and combine it with the Old Language verb to cut, creating the name for the indivisible: atom. The smallest bits of matter that can exist independently.’

Intrigue returns with crushing force, making it near impossible to tear your eyes from the volume when the parchment reappears. How long has he been writing? Maybe he was preoccupied.

And yet I understand it was the youngest of you who took up her weapons and headed out into the wild. For how adamantly you protested against my lack of action regarding something I could easily correct, you seem to appear quite the hypocrite. Why didn’t you go out into those woods?

Blink away the memories of frost. Of sweat-stained clothes, and matted, knotted hair.

Getting a little personal with the questions, don’t you think?

Writing to me at all is much more personal than you should ever be getting—I’m sure your friends would agree. Yet there you are, pen in hand, thinking up your next counterattack.

The reply comes with surprising swiftness, allowing you only a brief glimpse of the following passage. Just as you’re beginning to grasp the core of what the essay is talking on.

You write with the confidence sight, you reply, eager to return. Yet he seems to have put his own distractions aside, as the response follows promptly.

Magic is a wonderful thing.

Blood ices in your veins, limbs stiffening, tongue turning leaden.

You’re lying. The House is fortified with wards; practically impregnable.

Yet here we are, corresponding. Does your High Lord know what you get up to behind closed doors?

Heart spikes in your chest, fingers trembling just a little as you lower pen to paper.

You clearly want something; you’re not going to get it if you spook me away, so quit the games.

Very well, but I’ll admit I indulged in the thought of your discomfort.

Release a heavy sigh—he doesn’t somehow have a window into your room, able to watch every move you make. Surely that would be too far, even for his manipulative ways. Skin prickles at how easily he slid beneath it—fingertips brighten.

You share that delightful, sharp-written humour with your youngest brother, you know that?

The parchment vanishes, then reappears in a matter of seconds. You laugh to yourself.

Touchy subject, Eris?

The second you dot the question mark, the door swings open; you yelp, jumping in your chair, shoving the parchment away. Vanishes again a blink later, slightly crumpled from the violent rejection.

“I knocked…” Feyre supplies, features tightening with concern. “Did you not… Oh.” She blinks, peering at the door frame; the threshold. “I suppose it must have been set up to block out exterior noise, too.” Sighs. “I’ll get that fixed at some point. Seems a waste to have a sound barrier up if you’re unable to hear what’s going on outside.”

Swallow heavily, trying to look normal. Like you weren’t knowingly communicating with the heir to the Autumn Court throne. Blue-grey settles upon you, fingers fidgeting in your lap, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. Everything feels unsettled. Her brows arrow, “you’re… What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” You reply, quickly. Far too quickly to be normal.

Lips quirk. “Writing to Bas?” She teases.

Heavy sigh whooshes from your chest, deflating a little. “How do you know about him? I haven’t even mentioned him to ‘Lain,” you say lightly. Something flashes through her eyes, too quickly for you to decipher. “Az mentioned you had someone after you,” she laughs, stepping into the room, door closing behind her. “I had no idea it was so serious,” she smiles, the happiness so inappropriate with the context you have.

Shake your head in denial, “he’s just a friend. There’s nothing else going on.” She gives you a look to say she doesn’t believe you. “I’m serious,” you insist. “There’s nothing romantic going on.” That part’s true, at least.

Feyre laughs again, then shifts on her feet. A strange quest seems to overtake her. “You know things are different here,” she begins softly, “to how we lived as humans.”

Heat flushes your features, making you groan. “Oh my gods, Fey. I am not having this conversation with you.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to get out there…see the world…maybe a few males, too… That’s fine. That’s stuff we can do, now. Well, you can do.” She amends the last part. After all, she’s the youngest, and already has a mate, a husband, and a child. An entire family. The epitome of womanhood.

Shake your head adamantly, “please, stop.” You grimace. Her lips quirk, mischief in here blue-grey eyes. She’s so lively…spirited. Bubbly? But calm, too. When did she become so adult? She seems to have aged in the blink of an eye.

(Why didn’t you go out into those woods?)

She shifts again, peers around the room—it’s a superficial move. She’s buying time, building up to something. “Your floor’s clear,” she notes, nodding to the clear wooden boards. Nod in response, trying not to wring your fingers. You were doing nothing wrong. He had spoken first. Nothing to be guilty about; no one got hurt. It’s fine.

“About our last interaction…” she begins, quietly. Spine stiffens, heart spikes. “I wasn’t trying to find something wrong with you; I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Exhale softly, shoulders lose their tension. Smile easily, waving her off. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “I understand. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, it was unfair on my part to act that way.” Her eyes narrow on you. Keep up the smile. “Is this your way of saying you just don’t want to talk about it?” She asks, softly. Blue-grey shimmers with sincerity.

Lips begin to ache with the stretch. “What are you talking about? We’ve made peace, there’s no need to exacerbate this.”

“Do you not want to talk about it?” She reiterates, keeping calm and quiet.

“What is it?” You laugh, turning to face the desk, eyes flitting to the volume. Scan the page; absorb nothing. “What you said last time. About being a burden.”

Body stiffens, breath catches.

“Fey, I’m getting tired,” you excuse, voice steady.

“You’re tired a lot,” she replies, quietly. Still watching. “Maybe Madja should take a look at you.” Sigh. Lean back in your chair. Tilt your face back, peering at the ceiling. “I’ve had a long life,” you murmur up to the white wallpaper, “I’m allowed to be tired.”

“You’re barely twenty-two.”

“And a lot has happened. I’m allowed to be tired.” You repeat, not looking at her.

Silence stretches between you. Gentle, but taut.

“How about you?” You ask, shifting the conversation over. Turning to peer at her. Your younger sister. Feyre blinks, then nods her head. “Good. Wonderful.” Watch her silently. Mark the lowness of her lids. “Nyx still waking you up?”

Nods again, smiling faintly, traveling somewhere distant. Somewhere foreign to you. “Eight days a week,” she laughs quietly. “Rhys and I are taking turns looking after him during the nights. Despite his work-load.” Sighs, pushes hair from her cheek, tucks it over a pointed ear. “He’s been great. Supportive, attentive, perfect. I keep trying to get him to let me handle Nyx, but he’s insisting it’s a joint effort. Wants to be there in a way his father…” she trails off, eyes misting.

Nod your head slowly. “And I suppose you want to be there in a way our mother…?”

“Yeah,” she replies thickly. “I guess that’s part of it.” The quiet turns viscous, coagulating into something almost translucent.

“I read some things…” you begin gently, “about the turbulence of motherhood.”

Her features lift into a smile, “oh, don’t worry about me. Rhys and I are working through it. It’s difficult, but everyone’s there when the strain starts to set in.” You blink away subtle surprise. “Mor’s always up for taking him off our hands for a day or two. It’s the same with Cass and Nesta,” she laughs fondly. “Amren…well, she’s Amren. And Elain’s great at making little treats here and there. Smiley faces out of his breakfast and things like that—he loves it.”

You nod slowly. Blink. “That’s great.” Again the silence creeps in.

Then she’s shifting on her feet, and. You just know—

“What kind of person is Bas?�� She inquiries, not at all subtly. Nosey.

“He’s my friend, and nothing else.” He’s much more than a friend, but there’s no way to explain that without an entire Court’s worth of misunderstandings and uncomfortable questions. Still, she nods, but remains in your room. “And he… His intentions?”

“Feyre,” you scold, incredulously.

Your younger sister doesn’t flinch. Keeps her gaze straight. “Okay. Okay,” she sighs, holding up her hands in defence. “I’m wary of him.”

“Please, you can trust me he’s harmless. To me, at least. I’m sure if someone swung at him he’d be the type to swing back, but that’s besides the point.” You leave out the part that you’re fairly certain he would be the one to also somehow provoke a fight. He can be pretty provocative when he wants to. Not always in a bad way…

(…a hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.)

“I just want you to be careful,” she says quietly, eyes misting, going somewhere far away. “Males…people can be unkind. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Amarantha, Tamlin… You nod your head, “I understand. But Bas…I can trust him. So please don’t doubt him; please don’t doubt me either, in this decision.”

Feyre nods again. Silence stretches, then she straightens. Pats the doorframe. “Well, I’ll have this fixed as soon as possible. It’ll need to be disabled, than I can remake it—so you’ll be able to hear people coming. It’d be awful if you got yourself hurt from being startled by one of us.” She gives you a sweet smile, then disappears out into the hall, door clicking shut behind her.

Unsure if it’s her silent feet or the sound barrier that prevents you from hearing her disappearing footfalls.

————

Skin is itching, fingers burning. Heart spiking.

Burning, burning, burning. Hands on fire.

Vision blurs, floor spinning. She’s on the ceiling.

Crash into a wall, bone crunching. Stumble to the kitchen.

Water. Where’s water. Burning skin. Charring fingertips.

Liquid drips down cheeks, splashing onto knuckles.

Scraped raw, searing pain. Bone splintering, nails peeling.

Cool water fills the sink, drown her hands.

Sweet strangulation, dulcet deprivation.

Lovely oblivion.

————

Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out.

Chest deflates, keeping your body straight but relaxed—imagine sinking into the mattress. Cheeks puff up with the exhale, calm and quiet. Sit silently. Allow the world to fade. Tension seeps from your shoulders, muscles relaxing the way you’ve practiced. Now to make sure you don’t drop off instead.

Empty out thoughts, settle into the silence. Float away on a breeze. Imagine hands being set aglow. No. They are aglow.

Eyes remain shut, tight. Picture the radiant green seeping onto your skin, setting it alight.

Fingers twitch, bones itch. Teeth grind. Nails heat.

Eyes open in time to catch the glow as it fades, sinking back into your skin. A flicker of Starfall, then nothing. Sigh heavily, back slumping, shoulders sloping. It’s something; most importantly, it’s progress. Day three of fourteen. Slow movements, slower response. Gently stoking the flames.

Remove the light from your world, lids closing, return to the darkness. Seeking solace. Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. In. And out. Fingertips warm, but eyes remain closed. Don’t acknowledge it. Can’t look or feel for it. Allow it to grow in the back of your mind, allow into latch into your blood; flourish. Swirling and billowing, gaining momentum until it can move on its own, until it can function without nurture.

Keep your back turned to the power, allow it to remain unseen. Pull it upward; hear as it cracks and fizzles in your head. Rapidly dividing…splitting at high-speed…multiplying until it boils and bubbles. One cleaves another in two…into three…nine…

(…Twenty-seven, eighty-one, two-hundred forty-three…)

(…two-thousand one-hundred eighty-seven, six-thousand five-hundred sixty-one, nineteen-thousand six-hundred eighty-three…)

(One-million seven-hundred-seventy-one-thousand one-hundred forty-seven.)

Heat burns your fingertips, flashing pain blaring so rapidly, sparking like lightening across your palms, splintering phalanges…down into the carpal bones, nearing your wrists.

Vision blasts into view, pupils contract to tiny dots, shrinking away from the pale green light that’s blazing from your hands, barreling up your forearms, crackling past elbows, bolting up, up, up… Muscles seize, contracting against the hot itch scrambling your flesh, twisting at sinew. The blinding light dims, eyes peeking open as it dulls to a quiet luminosity, tinting your skin. Feels like poison ivy…the nettles by your old estate.

Swallow, staring at the radiance. Almost mesmerising enough to block out the burn. Throat itches, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deep breaths. Ease in. And out. Deep and easy. Calm and quiet. Collected.

Slowly, warily, you rise from your bed, door swinging open on the house’s command. Silently pad down the hallway, arms and torso concealed well by your dress, cardigan hiding the faint incandescence of your wrists. Hands—no way to hide them. Ignore it for now, you need a drink. Deep and easy. In. And out. Calm. Quiet and collected.

A glass waits for you on the table, walk steadily forward, fingers tremble as they clutch the cup. Water vibrates inside, tiny ripples fluttering across the surface. Effervescent bubbles shimmer at the base. Grow larger, swelling into compact air, fizzing up. Simmering in your hands. Tension coils your shoulders, brow dampening. Liquid heats up, boiling into a volatile mess. Bubbles pop at the surface, scalding water splashing onto your knuckles.

Scream as glass shatters, burning your bare feet as the liquid sprays.

Heart spikes, glowing brighter, inching up your arms, over your shoulders. Crawling across your collar bones. Muscles knot, tangling over themselves as they seize in terror. Power coils closer, snaking toward your throat, slowly…slowly…

“What—”

Hazel pierces into you, flicking over your hands, marking the shards of glass. He appeared in a flurry of darkness, shadows pulling back once he’s materialised in the doorway. Eyes already scanning for the source of distress. Fix on the slow spread of toxic green as it tip-toes higher. Hits a barrier. It’s a small hesitation—but it’s enough. Magic flickers, recoiling from your clavicle, enough hesitation to be quashed. Like a weight sinking down, an avalanche of rock crushing vermin, bones crunching beneath the pressure. Incandescence shoved away, dripping down your arms, cut back to your fingertips.

Sweet relief washes over you, waves of coolness cresting from your forehead to your toes. Lovely reprieve. Exhale heavily, spine nearly collapsing beneath the strain, leaving a slight glimmer to your fingertips, nails curved and warped from heat. Stagger back as he silently moves toward you. Scarred hands reach out, wanting to touch; wanting to steady.

“Are you—”

“Don’t,” you bark, snapping your arms closer to your body. Feel their unnatural heat as it singes the fabric of your dress. His nostrils flare, scenting the charred material, shadows flicker.

Call breath into your lungs, soothing. Deep and easy. In and out. Calm and quiet. In. And out. Calm and collected. A familiar scent has hairs raising at the back of your neck, eyes flicking up to lock with hazel. Closer than before. Despite the heat.

“What was that?” He asks, the deep roughness of his voice curling across your breastbone, soothing the heated skin like a balm. Swallow heavily, keeping your hands tight to your torso. Turn away; move to the sink. The tap turns on independently, cool water sizzling as it washes over trembling hands. Cold metal mollifies your skin, a comfy weight around your neck. The tiny barrier your magic had hit. Tripped up on.

Azriel doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel him nearby, standing at your side. Watching silently as the water fizzles and hisses, the last of the glow dimming from your fingertips. How close he’d come to touching the blisteringly hot skin. Slowly, the cold begins to souse into your digits, running smoothly over your hands, no longer bubbling or evaporating on impact.

The house has already cleared away the shards of glass; dried the pool of scalding water by the time you’ve dried your hands. Flaky, and ashen. The smooth, creamy texture seemingly been ravished by the heat. Yet all you felt was a slight itch to begin with. You don’t make any attempts to conceal how quickly you want to escape the room, but you’re kept where you are. Waiting…waiting for him to change his mind about keeping your secret. After what he’s just seen…

Feet are pinned to the boards, muscles unwilling to obey your mind as you explore them to turn and leave. Arms feel leaden, stiff and immovable. Wait for the compromise to be retracted. Hands tremble, teeth faintly bite onto your tongue. Wait for the condemnation. For being so foolish; stubborn.

“Are you hurt?” Words thud dully against your ears, keeping your hands as out of sight as possible, hidden beneath the sleeves of your cardigan. Nod dutifully. “I’m okay,” you murmur. Lips are numb, mind buzzing faintly. Floorboards spin ever so slightly, blurring in and out of focus. Deep breaths. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. Calm and collected. In. And. Out.

Boots appear at the top of your sight, just a little way from your own. Far enough not to be intimate. He holds out a scarred hand, palm facing upward. Almost expectant.

Blink away the dizziness. Flesh tingling…wriggling beneath your skin. Nails itching.

Wait silently to see what he’ll do.

Continues holding out his hand, waiting patiently to see if you’ll offer up your own. Remain rooted to the spot, numbness crawling beneath your sleeves. Mind buzzing with confusion at the outstretched palm.

Slowly, he begins reaching for your wrist, as if to inspect the results of the experiment. Analyse the consequence. Examine.

It topples you into motion.

Turn on your feet; quietly scamper off down the corridor. Behind the safety on your door.

With the wooden barrier in place, plus the sound block on your room, you can truly feel forgotten for a while. Like time’s stopped.

————

The shower had your blood moving again, temperature cooling to a regular heat. Mind working again, mentally cataloguing every thought you had, every twinge of unusualness that could have been the signposting you should have noticed to prevent that rapid surge of…burning.

Peer down at your hands, almost absently. Aside from the slight roughness to your skin; the chapped dryness to your knuckles, there’s nothing to show for the bone deep itch that had manifested within your flesh. Just the texture becoming sandpapery. Flaky.

A dark blue towel is draped over your shoulders like a shawl, preventing the damp ends of your hair from saturating the changed dress.

(What was that?)

It stopped almost out of nowhere. One moment, steadily spreading throughout your body, the next, it seemed to stumble. Like hitting a bump of some kind. Something that disturbed its momentum. Peer down at the necklace that’s sitting comfortably around your throat, resting just above your collar bones. In the dip of their joining point.

The small, glass pendant hanging from the bronze chain sits innocently on your person. Fingers brush over the map in wonder, curiously feeling. Cool metal contains the accessory, lead encapsulated within a gleaming polish. Even the underside has a pretty finish. Lead, bronze, and glass. Maybe some ink, but that’s all it is. No secrets carved to its base, no hidden compartment. Just a simple ornament, yet something about it disagreed with you. Thank the Mother.

Fingers play with the charm as you take a seat at your desk, reopening the volume. Rusty red leather creaks as you turn to your page, more than willing to submerge yourself in learning. The candles flicker as you ease out a breath, taking in the familiar scent of parchment and something pleasantly spiced. Maybe it’s an Autumn Court scent.

Crumpled paper lands on your desk, settling comfortably between the two large pages of the anthology.

It may surprise you to learn I have better things to do than spend all my hours writing to you.

Stare at the neat, elegant script. Debate the merits of responding willingly. Returning to this strange sparring match would be acknowledging your interest. There’d be no way to talk your way back to innocence. Putting pen to paper will mean…

And yet here you are, Vanserra, writing back to me.

Oh, you hope that irritates him. Hope he sends back something vicious. Something to make you spark awake again. To light up the numbness that’s turning your world monotone.

Would you like to tell me where these wrinkles came from?

Lips tug at the edges, but remain set in a dull line. Lower your pen to the roughed-up parchment. Fingers dry and somewhat cracked in the low light.

Nonsense, Eris. You don’t look a day over thirty.

Picture the way his sharp caramel eyes blaze with ire at the brazenness. Maybe his palms also heat when he’s in a mood. It’s a little comforting to remember power probably didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe. You’re making assumptions, though.

And you don’t dress a day over fifty. Considering Rhys’ wealth is at your fingertips, you have the fashion sense of someone who’s still destitute.

Mouth parts as you read the response. Brows flicking up your forehead. Harsh…

A smile quirks the corners of your lips.

I’ll have you know I dress for comfort. You’re the one who cares so much about prettification. Maybe I could visit your personal beauty parlour sometime, Eris?

Parchment vanishes, allowing you time to peer down at the diagram before you: a small rectangular table. There are various squares left blank, while others are filled in with one or two letters. The boxes that do contain letters attached are numbered, correlating with asterisks further down the page, displaying a full title.

Who would ever accompany you? It’s bad etiquette to visit a tonsorium on one’s own.

The smile fades after a few moments. Who would go with you if you wanted to visit somewhere? Elain? Feyre? …Mor? Shake your head, pushing away the dismal thoughts he’s brought to your attention. Divert elsewhere.

It’s worst to not entertain your guests. What a miserable (and sour) host you would be. I think I’m actually quite glad to not be visiting anytime soon.

Try to return to the anthology; find yourself awaiting his reply. Leg tapping against the floorboards. Minutes pass while you attempt to absorb more of the text, but nothing’s sticking. Like there’s a fog passing through your brain, stopping you from taking in the wonder of the world. More minutes tick by—the sky a solid dark blue the other side of your window. A few other candles gleam alight, and you murmur your thanks to the House. Flame flickers in response. Oddly comforting.

Eyelids start to feel heavy, weighing into your vision.

You don’t realise you nodded off until you wake from your nap. The desk is still void of a reply; you wearily peer around your room, attempting to orient yourself. Knuckles itch to be scratched, still rough to the touch. Gaze settles on your door. Perhaps it’s a little scary that you wouldn’t know if something was lurking directly the other side. Wouldn’t be able to hear any heavy breathing, or the scrape of steel. Deep breath, because there’s nothing there.

Stand to draw the curtains, but hairs stand on end. Remain still for a few seconds, centring on the feeling. Is it fear? Is it loneliness? Brow knits in concentration, absently drawing the curtains, turning back to face the entrance to your room.

(The only exit.)

Sigh in frustration. It’s not good to give into your…however you’re feeling. It will only encourage your mind to exacerbate whatever problem its fabricated. Still, you find yourself opening the door, peering down the well-lit corridor. Nothing there, no strange feeling, no lurking presences. Just your mind finding something to react to, creating a madness to subject you to. Deep breaths. The House of Wind is secure. Safe, and secure. You’re safe here. Nothing bad will happen; you won’t get hurt.

Deep breaths, heart lowering its pace.

Move to bring the door to; notice something on the ground, beside the frame.

Crouch down to pick up the small tin. Bring it inside, door swinging shut as you hold it up to the light.

Peer at the neat label. Pop open the lid; look inside.

It’s a small pot of hand cream.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @imma-too-many-fandoms

#CBMTHY #CBMTHY Part 7 #Azriel #Azriel x reader #Eris #Eris Vanserra #Azriel shadowsinger #Shadowsinger #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader angst #multi-part fic #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

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sky-high-standards · 11 months

Text

Yandere!!Fairytale characters!!Dark Reverse harem xFemale reader

I recently edited this

Part 2 here

You always loved stories for as long as you could remember because every night until you turned 8 you had dreams about coming to visit these story book characters but strangely they were your age in these dreams and were incredibly possessive and kept going on about how you would have to get married to one of them when you grow up.

When you were 9 you stopped reading fairy tales and these dreams stopped too.

8 years later~

You where just minding your own business when your mother came in and told you that you had to donate some old toys to a charity shop, you lazily got up and went to your attic where you kept most of your childhood things. As you searched you picked up the story book that you haven't seen in 8 years, a wave of nostalgia came over yo as you flipped through the pages. Suddenly aa portal came from the book and sucked you in.

Story 1 Cinderellis

You found yourself in a castle when someone suddenly bumped into you. You were surprised to see a beautiful woman wearing gorgeous clothing and a crown probably the queen giving you her hand to help you up she apologized and then gasped taking a closer look at you.

Queen: y/n is that you?

Y/n: Um yes?

She beamed and hugged you.

Queen: y/n my dear its been so long you're all grown up and so beautiful!

y/n: Queen Charming?

Then it all came back to you .You where in the castle where you used to play with your old friends Ellis and Johnathan. The queens son Johnathan saw you as a little sister and the queen saw you as a daughter but Ellis was the son of a wealthy man who was very kind and had a close friendship with the royal family. You remember Jonathan was vey protective and teased you a lot while Ellis was very sweet and incredibly shy and was very clingy towards you but he had this dark side and hated competition.

Queen: Just call me Caroline dear.

She smiled warmly at you seeming euphoric to see you again.

Caroline: Come quickly we must tell Jonathan you returned he will be so happy to see you.

So she lead you to the vaguely familiar room belonging to Jonathan

When he turned around you could barely recognize him he really has grown up.

Johnathan: y/n?

You nodded and he then tackled you into a hug like when you were kids.

Johnathan: I knew you'd come back dummy!!!

y/n: You really haven't changed a bit huh Johnny.

After you three caught up you found out Ellis's dad had died after you left and he now lives with his stepmother and his two stepbrothers they stopped seeing him after they met his stepmother.

Caroline the told you that she was gonna plan a ball for your return and to find a wife for Johnathan she sent out invitations to everyone in the land including Ellis and his family.

Ellis's home

Ellis was doing his usual labor because his mother treated him like a slave ever since his father died. His step family now just calls his Cinderellis due to him always being covered in soot. Ellis barely got anything to eat and was always given ragged clothing to wear. His stepbrothers mad sure to make sure he feels and looks terrible because they are incredibly jealous of Ellis because of his looks and all the female attention he gets.

After all these years Ellis hadn't forgotten about you but how could he ever since he met you he had been madly in love with you so much so that he worships the ground you walk on and would do anything to get your attention and much much more to get you affection but after you left a piece of himself left too he was absolutely devastated but he never lost hope that someday you'll return.

When an invitations to the ball came Ellis didn't care but he jumped for joy when you saw that this was for your return finally, he'd see his beloved again.

He told his Stepmother, and she told her sons to try and get you to fall for one of them now Ellis didn't like this and poisoned his family that day, after all Ellis never liked competition.

After the murder he disposed of the bodies he then dressed in one of his fathers suites and daydreamed about how soft your lips where or how happy you'll be to see him he can already picture you running into his arms proclaiming your undying love for him and how you'd never leave him again you'll be his in a matter of time.

Back at the castle

You were getting ready for the ball when a blinding flash of purple light came, and you saw a woman with a wand and beautiful purple wings in front of you.

???: Oh hello dear.

y/n: um who are you ma'am?

???:I'm your fairy Godmother I'm here to help you get back home.

y/n: Why? everyone is so nice here.

She went silent for a moment looking at you sympathetically.

Godmother: Things aren't always as they seem my dear...you have to save Jonathan if you want to make it to the next story.

y/n: WHAT IS HE IN DANGER??!!!AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN NEXT STORY??!!

Godmother: Keep it down, yes he's in great danger and you have a few more stories to complete before you get to go home.

y/n: what do you mean?

Godmother: I mean in each of the stories you will live in you will have a task when you complete it you will be sent to the next story but if you fail a task you won't be able to leave when you were younger you made every one of the male leads fall for you and now their obsessions have grown in an unhealthy way so be careful I'll see you soon.

and then she left just like how she came with without warning and in a poof of purple light.

The ball had begun and you couldn't stop worrying about Caroline and Johnathan. You were shaken out of your train of thought when a young man asked to dance he seemed pretty exited even euphoric and...love sick?

Nonetheless you agreed and he swiftly took you to the the center of the ball room as you two danced you couldn't avoid his stare it was so intense but those gray blue eyes were just` too familiar then it clicked.

Y/n: Ellis...?

He smiles at you and nodded.

Ellis: Did you miss me little mouse?

you smiled back at him and hugged him and he was in pure bliss finally you're back in his arms oh how he's dreamed of this day everything was perfect until he saw those pretty eyes of yours start to lose focus on him as you kept glancing at Jonathan this made his blood boil he was always second place to Jonathan when it came to you he always got your attention but now he's finally snapped he's had enough.

When you left to go check on Caroline he pulled out a vile of poison the very same he used to kill his step family.

Ellis: I didn't think I'd have to use it so soon.

He mumbled coldly.

He was about to pour it into Jonathan's glass when he heard your voice and he quickly his it into his pocket smiling at you, you asked to speak to him privately and he was taken back when he saw you crying and he immediately went forward to comfort you only to be pushed away.

Ellis: Little mouse what's wrong.

You stared up at him with a mix of hurt betrayal and confusion.

Y/n: I saw what you were about to do Ellis...I don't understand, Why would you try hurt him.

Ellis: why? because I love you y/n I love so much that it drives me insane I love you so much that I'd kill anyone in a heartbeat just for your attention I love you more than you will ever know little mouse~

All you could do was look up at him in fear as he caressed your cheek smiling at you with a sickly-sweet smile.

y/n: what happened to you? You were so sweet so kind and so selfless.

Ellis: Oh y/n you happened to me.

you saw a deranged glint in his eyes and his smile turned more sinister.

Ellis: You turned me into this.

At that moment you knew there was no reasoning with him so you had to be with him until you get sent to the next story.

y/n: Ellis I'll be yours if you promise not to hurt anyone else.

You could tell he was more than euphoric hearing those words come out of that pretty mouth of yours it sent him over the edge.

Ellis: I promise Little mouse.

For about 5 months things where perfect for Ellis waking up and knowing you are there being the only one able to kiss your soft lips it was pure bliss until there was a flash and you were gone.

You were falling out of the sky and splashed into the water you tried your hardest to swim but couldn't you were about to drown but you were rescued by a strange being and all you could remember was its voice.

Tell me if ya want me to continue and please give my other yandere stories some love.

God loves you get plenty of sleep and stay hydrated

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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

Text

Gamer boy (part one)

Modern!gamer Eddie Munson x babysitter fem!reader

Summary: you’re propositioned to baby sit by your father, but it’s for Eddie “the freak” Munsons niece. You had history, but now you can’t even stand being near him. Will you both be able to put aside your distain? Or will a little gaming bet, bring you closer than ever before?

⚠️series warnings: eventual smut 18+ mdni, angst, friends to enemies to lovers, mutual pining, mean!eddie, slight fuck!boy eddie, cocky eddie, gaming bets in exchange for sexual acts, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, slight degradation, choking, hair pulling, spit play, spanking, dom!eddie.

A/N: this was going to be a one shot, but then I go more and more ideas so I’m turning into a little series 💚 (remember to tip your writers, with a reblog and comment)

You couldn’t believe this was happening, you wanted to be emancipated. How could your dad do this to you? Why you?

Okay, that’s probably really dramatic. But, it was warranted.

It was a beautiful Thursday morning, birds were chirping, coffee was brewing and your mom was making her famous French toast. You haven’t felt this happy in a while, little did you know that metaphorical rug of happiness was about to be ripped from under you.

“Y/n, can you come in here?” Your dad yelled from his office down the hall

The only time your father ever called you into his office to talk, was always about something serious or a proposition he wanted to tell you about. Not ask, never ask. You didn’t have a choice in his “business proposals” at least that’s what they felt like to you.

Shuffling over your feet as your heart rate picked up. You made it into the big office, oak wood shelves filled with books your dad never had time to read. He was leaning back in his black leather chair behind his big oak wood desk, with a look of contentment on his face, it made a shiver run down your body.

“Yes, dad?” You say as you look down at the desk in front of you.

“I have a job I need you to do.” He says with a small chuckle

“Okay, what is it?” You cock your head like a puppy full of curiosity

“Well, I need you to baby sit for one of my employees. It’ll be from tonight to Sunday night.” He says

“This weekend? But dad it’s a three day weekend, I had plans with friends.” You say as if you can’t even believe he’s telling you this. I mean maybe it would make a difference if he was asking and not telling, but either way you were upset.

“Sorry, kiddo. I already told him you would. Can’t go back on my word, all a man has is his word.”

You roll your eyes, and cross your arms over your chest.

“Fine, who’s kid?”

“Wayne Munsons, he’s going out of town on a business trip for me. He has a daughter she’s about three and his usual sitter isn’t able to do it, something about her being an older lady, so I offered up your help since you use to babysit the neighborhood kids. He’s leaving at 9 tonight so you’ll need to be over there by 8:30”

“Wayne Munson? As in Eddie Munson? Dad no, absolutely not! Why can’t he do it?” You say as your eyes begin to water

“You know that boy, does he look like he can take care of a three year old for three days?” Your dad was beginning to get aggravated with your tone and questioning

“I cannot believe this. I hate him, how am I suppose to go over there and act civil when you’re asking me to go hang out with satan in the flesh?”

Your dad laughs at your outburst

“I’m not asking you to hang out with him, I’m asking you to babysit his niece.”

“For three days?!” You shout “I’m sorry, but cmon dad, I can’t do that.”

“You can, and you will. End of discussion.”

“I- whatever.” You turn on your heels and stomp out of there

“Hey, hun. French toast is ready,” your mom says with a big smile.

“I’m not hungry, sorry mom.” You say as you trudge up the stairs to go sulk in your bedroom

After you packed your duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries, showered and put on some comfy black cotton shorts and a white long sleeve shirt. You got into your Prius and head for the last place on earth you ever wanted to be, Forest hills trailer park.

You don’t even remember why you and Eddie hate each other so much. Well you do, but now that you’re both adults, it all seems so redundant.

You and Eddie have known each other since he moved in with his uncle in first grade. You were actually friends at some point, then you hit middle school and your body started changing, you started getting a different kind of attention from Eddie and other boys. You both got closer that summer before freshman year. Close as in, you shared your first kiss with him, amongst some other things. But, once high school started, everything changed. Eddie became distant. You knew he was bullied, even worst than middle school, but you didn’t understand why he was so angry at you. Okay, well it could’ve had something to do with a small rumor that went around about you, and a certain basketball player. It wasn’t 100 percent incorrect, you did go on a date with Josh Young and you did make out in the back of his brothers Camaro, but you definitely did not give him a handy or a blow job, you knew him and his jock meathead friends started it because you didn’t want to go any further with him that night. Eddie avoided you at all costs after that, which was total bullshit because when you and him weren’t sucking face and feeling each other up, he was going on and on about perfect little Angela Thomas, a blonde cheerleader. Go figure. He had no right to be angry, so you both never talked after that. Except the occasional condescending comments that would leave his mouth when you’d both be at your lockers, his unfortunately being way too close to yours or that time you both had biology together, sophomore year and were paired up for a project. You ended up doing the whole thing yourself and allowed him to get half the credit, but other than that. Radio silence, on both ends.

You pull up to the only trailer with beer cans littered around the yard, parking next to Eddies rust bucket of a van. You couldn’t believe he was still driving that thing. It was a million years old and on its last leg, but something about seeing it made you nervous. Where’d that come from?

On the other side was Wayne’s pick up truck, the bed of it holding his black suitcase.

You keep your eyes on your brown platform ugg boots, as you make your way up the steps to the front door.

You knock a few times, wishing you could be anywhere literally anywhere but here.

“Y/n, hello sweetheart.” Wayne Munson says with a whisper, as he feels around his blue jeans for his keys.

“Laylas asleep in her room, she ate, she bathed, so she’s out for the night.” He chuckles

“There’s food in the fridge, money for pizza on the counter, and if you need anything just ask Eddie, he’s also in his room playin his damn games. If you want, you can sleep in my bed or you can take the couch, whatever you’re comfortable with.” — “Before I go, I just really want to tell you how much I appreciate this, darlin.” He says as he throws you an appreciative smile.

“Yeah of course, Mr. Munson. Have a safe trip.” You smile back, as you close the door behind him.

Now what the hell do you, do?

After sitting uncomfortably on the couch for an hour, while scrolling on your phone and occasionally looking up at the Netflix movie you decided to put on as background noise, you hear a door open. Your heart starts beating out of your chest at the realization that you’re about to see Eddie.

The kitchen light turns on, making your eyes slightly squint. As you looked over at him, he was drinking Pepsi straight from the liter.

Ugh he was so disgusting

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and then closed the cap, putting it back in the fridge as he let out a burp.

God, you really couldn’t stand him

Even if he was wearing nothing but grey sweats, so low it showed off his v line and trail of hair right above his—

“Oh, you’re here.” He says as he rolls his eyes

He knew you were here, he just loved pissing you off.

“Yup, don’t wanna be here just as much as you don’t want me here, Munson.”

“You sure about that?” He snickers

“Positive.” You say as you continue scrolling on your phone, pretending to read something, that you’re not actually reading. You just don’t want it to feel anymore awkward than it already does.

“Mm, okay princess. You have a nice night.” He turns around, shutting off the light and heading back into his room.

Princess? Ew, You hate him so much, but why’d he have to look so good? Fuck him!

You eventually got comfortable on the couch with the pillow and throw blanket, Wayne kindly left out for you. Falling asleep a little after you started some cheesy romantic comedy.

You wake up to the sound of loud metal music, and sun peaking in through the curtains. Once you roll over, you’re greeted by a little face staring down at you. Scaring the living shit out of you.

“Hi. My name is Layla, what’s yours?” The toddler asks, words coming out in the cutest little voice.

“Hi Layla, my names y/n. I’m gonna be babysitting you while your daddy is away.” You say as you sit up and rub your face

“Can you make me breakfast?” She says as she walks a little closer to you, you now notice she’s got a stuffed puppy in her arm.

“Of course I can, what would you like?” You put your ugg booties on and stand up, making your way to the kitchen as Layla follows closely behind

“Waffles, please!” She says excitedly

“Okay, waffles comin’ right up.”

“Thank you, y/n.” Layla says with the sweetest little smile

“No problem. So who’s your friend?” You ask, looking at the stuffy in her arm

“This is Mr. Floppy,” She says as she holds up the brown floppy eared puppy

“Well hello, nice to meet you Mr. Floppy.” You bend down and shake one of his floppy ears, like you would a hand.

Layla giggles like it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

As you’re plating laylas waffles and topping them with butter and syrup, the loud music that was booming from down the hall, stops. Eddie’s door flys open and he’s swinging his keys on his index finger, dressed in his usual; band tee, black jeans, leather jacket and battle vest.

“Teddy!” Layla shouts as she skips to hug his legs

“Sup, rugrat?” He says as he ruffles the top of her braided pigtails

“Are you leaving?” She inquires with a sad look on her face.

“I am, I’ll be back later. Just gotta take care of some stuff.” He says while looking over at you as you cut up Laylas waffles.

Eddie walks out the front door after telling Layla bye, leaving the screen door to slam.

After playing with your new favorite toddler, almost all afternoon. Feeding her lunch and playing some more. She’s finally, down for a nap.

You begin cleaning up her toys off the living room floor, and turning the god awful voice of this blippi character on YouTube off.

You decide to get your AirPods out of your bag and pair them to your phone, so you can listen to some music while you clean up a little bit more.

You began washing the dishes, cleaning down counters and cleaning off the dining table, as well as sweeping the kitchen floor.

As you’re plugging in the big clunky vacuum, you hear Eddie’s other clunker come to a halt in the front yard, doors slamming and some talking, before the door is being unlocked and opened.

Eddie bounds in after some girl, you’d never seen her before. She was blonde and pretty. It made your stomach plummet and your hands shake.

Why are you jealous?

You didn’t miss the big smile on his face as he looked over at you, and began walking her to his bedroom.

Just breathe. JUST BREATHE. You hate him, why do you want to cry? Do you hate him? Fuck!

This was gonna be torture. You wanted to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. But you knew you couldn’t. So you decide to put your headphones back in, and continue cleaning. It helped get your mind off of what Eddie and blondie, could be doing behind that door, but only for a little bit before your mind began to wonder.

So you gather some clothes and head for the bathroom, slipping inside and locking the door. You put the shower on, and begin undressing. Thanking god, Eddie had his music on pretty loud, but also not, because Layla could wake up any minute, so you had to make this fast.

After you get out, you slip on a black long sleeve onesie, you didn’t even realize you packed. The shorts on it are really short, and is constantly riding up, showcasing some of your butt. The front has about a dozen buttons going down to the middle of your stomach so you can control how much cleavage you want to show off. Opting for a good amount, enough to capture attention. It seemed like the most logical thing to go with, in this situation, whatever “situation” this was.

You find a brush in one of the drawers, brush out your hair and then make your way out of the bathroom and down the hall to check on Layla, she’s still sleeping soundly, so you walk back to the couch. Trying to drown out whatever noises you hear coming from Eddie’s room, you can’t make out if they’re laughs or moans and you’d rather keep it that way.

Some time goes by, while you’re scrolling on tik tok. Eddie’s door opens, as miss blondie walks out and leaves out the front door. A deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding is released, after the door shuts. Your eyes are glued to your phone during her walk of shame, not wanting to see any marks or anything that’ll make this any worst for you.

You hear Eddie’s footsteps getting closer, so you decide to take a peek. Eddie’s in nothing but his black jeans, while his checkered boxers peak out the top and a cigarette behind his ear.

Why is he coming over here?

“What are you, doing?” He says as he takes a seat on the other end of the couch

“Just scrolling on my phone.” You say as you look over at him, his face looked flushed and sweaty, it makes your stomach hurt even more. God, you can’t believe you are feeling this way for Eddie, you like him. You wish you could fucking leave, you hate this, you hate these old feelings you’ve stuffed down for so long, popping back up like a fucking Jack in the box.

“You uh, you want me to order a pizza or something? I worked up an appetite.” He smirks

“Yeah, cool.” You say almost low enough to be a whisper

“Okay, um. Do you want to watch a movie or something?” He says as he looks down at your cleavage, nipples hard and on display.

“No, I’m okay.” You say as you get up and make your way to the kitchen to grab a drink.

You didn’t see it, but Eddie’s eyes were roaming your body, as he licked his lips. Yeah, he just had sex with some random girl, but that was only to get his mind off of you, and your annoying, fucking attitude. Eddie would never admit it, but he loved your stupid sassy personality. You didn’t take his shit. Fuck, he wanted you so bad. He starts to wonder if he just blew any chance with you, by having another girl over. Dammit, He definitely did, there’s no way you’d touch him now.

Part two

Comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist (:

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fandom #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fan fiction

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masao-micchi · 2 years

Note

Your time travel au…does Martin ever show up?

OMG bHAHA i just got off from my daydream about this AU

NONE OF THIS IS REAL OK its just me being delusional,,,!!! and scenes change frequently because idk i love to rework my ideas and live them over and over again,, but feel free to enjoy whatever:

i imagine that the original team comes back eventually, because the memories of their old lives trickle back, and they plan to save jon from ever being promoted.

They work at the institute w their old jobs (Tim and sasha in Research, Martin in the Library) and slowly reveal that they still have their memories intact,, and the friendship between them becomes 10x stronger

The only difference is that jon isn't there when he's supposed to be working in research, and that's because he has a job somewhere else. Elias and gertrude didnt want him near the archives (he always invites trouble LKJDFKJS) and over the years elias has grown protective of his adopted son (and the beholding approves of this anyway so yeah,, their only conflict now is that he can be such a helicopter dad)

so one day in the library while the trio were hanging out there, Gerard shows up and says he needs some books for his boyfriend (jokingly ofc,, he's just bffs w jon) and they help him out

cue jon coming in, covering his face w/ a mask and sunglasses so he wouldn't be recognized by the institute staff that watch him grow up there since he was 8 (because elias instructed to throw him out LMAO). Jon barges in, frustrated at gerry taking so long.

they banter a bit, and the trio somehow recognize the voice of "gerard's bf". Finally gerry introduces him as jon, and all four of them make eye contact. Jon is speechless, slowly reveals himself and stops breathing, but pretends to not know them

sasha is surprised, tim is shocked, and martin is insanely jealous ALKSJDLASDLKFKJ they dont tell him they remember anything tho and jon does the same,,, leading into really awkward and angsty situations

and it follows w random moments such as simon fairchild coming in to visit his "favorite nephew" or elias forcing jon to take his vitamins and sleep early,, maybe agnes and jude hanging out for no reason,, mike crew barging in and reading in his Designated Library Corner,, peter lukas going grocery shopping for whatever health supplement elias wants jon to take,, gertrude being a worse helicopter grandmother to jon,, oliver banks sleeping like the dead next to mike crew in his Designated Library Corner,, mikaele salesa bringing jon random knick knacks....

.... and sasha, martin, and tim just lose their minds over the sheer absurdity of it all LMAASLDJSLF

and ofc martin and jon try to woo each other but believing the other hates them etc (cue misunderstandings and dumbassery)

IT'S DUMB I KNOW but it's just all in my mind leave me alone to cope SKSKSSK

More of this AU here

#the magnuse archives #tma #this is unhealthy i know #i'm supposed to be studying but i CANNOT stop thinking about weird but functional family au #the magnus protocol #tma2 #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #tmakidjonau

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ashtheketchum · 2 months

Text

A new family Part 2

A/N: Here is the second part! To be honest, I don't know how long this story will last, but hey. If you like it, it's good if the story is long xD

Taglist: @clairealeehelsing

Part 1 here

Warnings: Mention of abuse and rape, mild panic attack, insults (slut, bitch)

Masterlist!

_____________________________________

PoV (Y/N):

The sun was starting to set as I set out to punch the Dixon brothers. I waited at their tents, trying to calm myself.

“Which bitch is standing in front of my tent now?” I heard an aggressive voice.

Although I had been a little calmer until now, the anger was boiling inside me again.

I looked angrily at the Dixon brothers, who had squirrels and a badger with them. They were probably hunting again, because that was their only job in this camp.

Daryl looked at me for a moment before turning his gaze to the floor.

"Are you kidding me!?" I just screamed loudly.

"How can you scream at an 8 year old so that she runs screaming and crying to her mother!?" I screamed loudly again.

Merle laughed briefly while Daryl tensed.

Then Merle walked towards me and he threw the dead animals to the ground. He was now standing right in front of me, I could smell his bad breath as well as his sweat.

"Yar 8 year old gurl went after ma brotha! She’s probably just as much of a slut as ya!”

Merle's words made me pause for a moment.

So (D/N) really didn't listen to me and looked for Daryl. She had probably given him the necklace. I looked at Daryl briefly before pushing Merle away and walking towards him. I held out my hand angrily, he knew exactly what I wanted.

"Give it back to me. You don’t deserve it, dirty Dixon.” I said angrily.

Daryl looked at me annoyed for a moment before pulling the necklace out of his pocket and throwing it in my face.

"She wa´ ugly anyway." He hissed before ramming into me and walking away.

Merle followed his little brother before I went away to cool off.

(D/N) was lying in our tent, she was still sniffling and small tears were rolling down her cheeks. I sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug.

"Is everything ok, honey?" I whispered quietly.

"Mom… why do Merle and Daryl hate us so much…? They remind me of Dad…”

Her words made me jump for a moment.

The memories of my ex-husband, her father, came back and I also felt tears in my eyes.

"I don't know, honey… I don't know…" I murmured quietly.

(D/N)'s father and I knew each other for a long time before we got together.

We were actually an inseparable couple, but I got pregnant from him and from then on everything changed. He slept with other women while I had to go through the pregnancy alone, and when (D/N) was born, he beat me and raped me multiple times a day.

(D/N) noticed everything sometimes, especially when her father yelled at me.

He wasn't any better to (D/N). He constantly yelled at her and sometimes locked her in her room without giving her anything to eat. When the world ended, we secretly packed a few things before running away.

Before that, however, I opened all the doors so that the walkers ate him. I could hear his screams and they still haunt me sometimes, to this day.

(D/N) fell asleep after a while while I continued to stay awake, staring into space.

Tears streamed down my face as I had my hand over my mouth so as not to wake (D/N), or anyone else. It was only after several minutes that I calmed down so that I could at least get some sleep.

The next morning my eyes were still slightly swollen and reddish from my tears, but I ignored it too. Since (D/N) was used to seeing my eyes like that, she didn't ask. But Lori and Carol noticed.

They asked me if everything was okay, but I assured them that I was okay.

That same day, Glenn, Tdog, Andrea, Merle and Morales were sent out to look for new supplies. At least Merle was gone now for a few days, we could just ignore Daryl.

(D/N) and I sat together and read a book together.

She was getting better and better and I was happy to see that she was enjoying reading. Suddenly I heard someone walking towards us and I immediately looked around. Luckily for me, it was Daryl walking towards us.

I glared at him as he slowly walked towards us. He wanted to kneel down next to (D/N), but I immediately pulled my daughter away from him.

"He, I didn't yell at yar lil one…" Daryl just grumbled, pissed off.

"That's right, Mom…" (D/N) just murmured quietly.

I sensed that she wanted to get off me, so I let her. (D/N) sat back down between Daryl and me and continued reading the book.

Daryl looked at her for a moment before raising his hand.

(D/N) and I immediately jumped and I pressed her against me protectively. Daryl looked at us in shock for a moment before carefully lowering his hand and gently patting (D/N)'s head.

(D/N) and I immediately relaxed again, while Daryl then looked at me quietly.

"I wan´ the necklace back…" He then murmured quietly.

For a moment I didn't understand what he meant by that, before I carefully pulled out the necklace from (D/N) and gave it to him.

"Thank´…" He just mumbled before he got up and went into the forest.

"Why is Daryl so nice, Mom?" (D/N) asked me while stroking her head.

"I don't know…" I just mumbled quietly as I watched him go.

We decided not to read any further, instead we went to Dale and she watched the birds with him. I went to Carol and Jacqui's, who were cooking something to eat for tonight.

The others came back that same day, but without Merle.

But another man came along. He was wearing a police uniform and looked around uncertainly. But suddenly Carl screamed loudly and he ran towards the man, just like Lori. Carl kept shouting 'Dad!', so it was immediately clear to me who this man was.

I walked uncertainly towards Tdog, who looked at Glenn, who silenced the red car and got a lecture from Dale.

"Where is Merle?" I asked.

Tdog just looked at me uncertainly before explaining what had happened.

Merle was chained to a roof because he wanted to attack Tdog and the others. But the key fell from the handcuffs and he couldn't pick them up.

"I didn't mean to…" Tdog muttered at the end.

"It's all okay… Merle is… well, Merle… the only one who won't stay calm is Daryl…"

I murmured quietly. Tdog nodded very tensely before I then went to (D/N).

(D/N) didn't even ask about Merle, as if she didn't even know he was there.

I told her to stay close to me tomorrow because I was afraid of how Daryl would react. You never knew, especially when it came to Merle.

Daryl didn't come back until the next day.

Next Chapter!!!

#the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl #twd #the walking dead #oneshot #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x female reader

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thenewrises · 5 months

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enjoy my brain rambles (18+ MDNI)

idk the last time i did a theory/full lore post on anything since 17 year old me played mystic messenger in 2017 (IN FUCKING PHYSICS!!!!!) but for some reason 14 days with you has been on the forefront of my brain for over a year so. also it's so funny how not into yandere games/dark romance i was years ago but the moment i started college and started reading shit like ACOTAR (not dark romance but like... y'know... rhys...) i am like damn... what if someone was THAT into me me... (this does not include haunting adeline i fucking hate that book)

anyways sorry for the ramble!!!! some fun stuff i have found in the last idk few days of perusing old stuff, new stuff, etc.

also, a lot of hints i've found have been followed up by "👀". this is not the case with everything but just a lil tidbit i noticed! :)

The official 14DWY blog is @14dayswithyou

edit: put 18+ mdni in title because the game is 18+! should have mentioned that LOL

Ren's name!

I have been super interested in finding out his name, which i will send guesses sometime to the ask box when i have more as to not spoil anything if i'm right. BUT, i can share everything i have collected! i do know we will know more about him in day 7 possibly but i want to hopefully give some help if anyone wants to guess like me!

(Not In Name) ❌ - T, D, Z, S

(In The Name) ✅ - N, R, A, E

does not begin with - E, R, B, A, P

does not end with - N, L, Y

extras ⁃ 8 letters (could be more) ⁃ not traditionally masculine ⁃ american ⁃ emerald has three letters (E, A, R are my guesses) ⁃ clarence (two letters right spot) ⁃ emerson (one letter right spot) ⁃ marienne (one letter right spot) ⁃ his sister called him ren

so, with this in mind i have a few ideas. it seems the letter "R" is in the fourth position in his name. the letter "E" seems to be at the end of his name. i believe his name may be unisex or possibly more typically feminine, but he was named by his mother after her two friends (which i believe are Teo's relatives). some guesses about the name i have are: i believe his name may begin with an L or F, but this is just a guess i have but i do not believe it begins with a C. either "ren" is in his name altogether or another variation such as rien. but! this is just a theory (matpat... thank u).

some extras:

_ _ _ r _ _ _ e

edit: upon some scrolling before bed i am starting to believe their name may end in “rence” or “riene”. will update but that’s where i’m landing right now.

edit 2: may ALSO end in renie!

2. Ren's hands!

so we know ren has scarred hands from an accident prior to the events of the game before he ran from home. i don't know exactly what caused the scarring, but i believe it was some kind of altercation with his father from the sounds of it. it was said that ren left his mom in absolute hysterics when he left, so i believe there are a few things that could have happened.

i don't know if ren's father would hurt his mother but let's assume he wouldn't, maybe ren was presenting more masculine, talking back to his father, becoming a "threat" towards taylor, who knows! whatever happened, ren got into an altercation with taylor that ended in the scarring. I believe it has something to do with fire, taylor may have been set of fire somehow. maybe taylor wanted to burn the house down. OR, maybe ren tried to burn the house down with taylor in it...

it's possible that taylor may have tried to harm ren's mother that he attempted to save his mom and burn his father/harm his father. whatever happened, hana was not present for this as i believe this is when ren ran away from home IF this is how it happened.

maybe what happened to his hands was much longer before he left. i've seen some questioning that when leon had a birthday party, he invited hana but she did not go for reasons unknown. what this could mean is that something happened WHEN hana still lived there before she was sent off to school. maybe this was when ren got the scars on his hands. maybe taylor tried to harm ren due to him simply being male, maybe it was something else. maybe ren fought back. maybe taylor tried to hurt ren's mother, causing him to be punished by his father. all i know is, ren in an ask has said “I-I didn’t mean to… He— I didn’t have much of a choice…”

3. Playlist!

a while ago, saint put out this playlist and explained that characters and endings are connected to the songs. from other's guesses and my own curiosity, i went through and did some eliminations and found these to be the most possible to be connected:

shapeshift - ren

almost had me - violet

glimpse of us - leon

angel - ending

god complex - ending (possibly leon)

EDIT: gun - ending (most likely bad)

heart-shaped hologram - EDIT: I believe this is ren's introspection now

these could be inaccurate! but from what i have seen i think these are the best guesses for some of the songs. maybe i'll try to guess more in depth, but for now, this is just from what i've read up! 14 days also has the potential to be an ending, but once again this may be another post.

conclusion

i am so out of my mind. but it is so fun to evaluate lore i have always loved doing it and this game itched my brain. i reccommend this game if you're interested in horror and are 18+ then i say check out this game! read the warnings ahead of time, but i find it funky fresh

anyways womp womp, redacted come home, emo boy by ayesha erotica lookin' ass

#luv that pathetic mfer #i just love that emo freak so bad i wanna grab him by his shirt and shake him like a kinder egg (remember when those had toys in them)#also anyone else on their corporate 9-5 lunch break doing this? just me? ok.#will i make another post like this???? idk. i just live here.#14dwy #14 days with you #yandere vn #14 days with you ren #14dwy ren #14 days with you redacted #14dwy redacted

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dramioneasks · 5 months

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Christmas Fics 2023 (Part 8):

Keep It Like a Secret by PacificRimbaud - M, one-shot - He regards her with interest, cool as the ice in his G&T. “What do you want?” On close inspection, he's a bit deadly. It's the combined power of self-regard, an open ear, and a cunningly tailored suit. Hermione wants— “An expiration date would be nice.” She suctions up the watery dregs and signals for more. “Let’s say I want . . . a year. Exactly one year of monogamy without the possibility of further commitment."

When Love is Found by Biirdiee_Rose - T, one-shot - “You’ve read Charles Dickens— yes?” “Yes, I read Great Expectations when I started exploring muggle literature.” “Well, he wrote a book called A Christmas Carol.” She bends down to grab a few gifts from beneath the Christmas tree. “Ah, so we’re from the book then—” “Sort of,” She interrupts, “Then they made a movie of it with these little puppets called The Muppets, and it was my favorite.” - Hermione and Draco go to a muggle Christmas party with the theme to dress up from a favorite Christmas movie. Hijinks ensue.

Mutual, I'm Sure by LadyUrsa - E, WIP - If Draco Malfoy could have one wish in his life, it would be to not be a Veela. Wait, no. It would be to not have Hermione Granger be his mate. Fuck, at this point he would settle for Hermione Granger just being aware of the painfully obvious fact that she was his mate. But only as long as it resulted in monogamous bliss. And getting a cat. ** Two meddlesome best friends, two idiots who are bad at feelings, and a snow-filled Christmas reunion in Vermont. The only thing this White Christmas is missing are some musical numbers.

Cookies, Spice and Other Mushy Non-Practical Stuff by Trombones - G, one-shot - A very short Christmas Dramione one shot. Featuring your favourite Harry Potter snow man, a haughty but caring Draco and a Hermione that can't help but be won over by his charms.

The Well-Traveled Sage by MarinaJune - M, one-shot - Bookseller Hermione Granger, some shop holiday decor, and Draco Malfoy in need of a last-minute holiday gift.

An Ode To Falling In Love by Ada_P_Rix - M, one-shot - He gave her a lopsided grin then, his hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at her. "I think you're drunk." He observed her after a few moments, his eyes glassy as she rolled hers up at him. "And I think you'll regret the hangover in the morning." Hermione gave him a look that had him raising his eyebrows at her. "Amongst other things." "Well you know what they say, Granger-" Malfoy stumbled slightly, causing her to cling to his arm and pull him further against the side of her body as they walked along to the apparition point. "The truth always comes out when you're shitfaced," another grin from him had her shaking her head; Hermione had never witnessed him being this intoxicated before. "All kinds of nasty little secrets end up spilling out with the alcohol-induced vomit."

Santa Baby by Biirdiee_Rose - E, one-shot - “Now, if I were to say yes to this whole…thing, what do I get out of it?” She asks hesitantly, hating the way he perked up immediately. “My, my, Granger— how Slytherin of you.” She narrows her eyes and he relents, surely very aware he did not have the upper hand in the situation. “You’ve been shot down for funding time and time again for that very generous Wolfsbane project–” Now it was her turn to perk up, spine straightening as she leans over the desk, hands clasping as her brain puts together what he’s offering her. “If you agree to this, agree to being my girlfriend until at least after Christmas, then I will fully fund your Wolfsbane project for the next two years.” - Draco Malfoy needs a favor, and Hermione Granger seems to be the only witch around to fit the bill. Attempting to get out of yet another marriage contract, Draco tells his mother he’s dating the one and only Hermione Granger. One little issue, they’re not actually dating. With a good old fashioned bribe of funding the Wolfsbane Project she’s been trying to start for years, Hermione reluctantly agrees. No need to worry dear readers, it’s not like they’d develop feelings for each other or anything… Right?

The Christmas Party by arielle_reads - M, one-shot - Robards hosts a Christmas party for the Ministry but his gift-giving plan goes awry when everything gets swapped. Firewhiskey shots are introduced and Draco worries someone else will get the present he chose for Hermione.

Magical Merry Mistletoe by greyditto - T, one-shot - What happens when pureblood tradition, a Yule party, and a Secret Santa gift exchange all take place in the same event? Naturally, Draco's nearest and dearest conspire to get him what he always wanted...

Icy Truce, Warm Hearts by Serpent_Sortia - E, one-shot - The war has been raging for years but things are starting to go the Order's way thanks to the information provided by a spy high amongst Voldemort's ranks. Hermione is called out to meet the mysterious informant on a snowy Christmas Eve so he can deliver important news... until their meeting spot is compromised.

Messing with Christmas and How to Fix it by Astrangefan - not rated, one-shot - Hermione has been homesick for a home she no longer has. She finds some old decorations at Grimmauld and brings them back to Hogwarts. Draco likes what she's done, but says it in a way only Draco Malfoy can say and everything goes wrong. Now he has to come up with a grand gesture to apologise.

The Holiday by LunaLunaria - E, one-shot - A remix of The Holiday (2006) featuring cinnamon roll with hidden depths Neville Longbottom, chaotic manic pixie Pansy Parkinson, hyper-productive, seduce-me-with-your-brain Hermione Granger, and literary bachelor with a side of snark and sentiment Draco Malfoy.

Wolfsbane and Mistletoe by yes_a_witch - E, WIP - Seven years after her 8th year at Hogwarts, Hermione is feeling lonely. Ron and Harry are both happy with their new families, and her work is meaningful yet taxing. Though she has branched out and made new friends since school, none provide that sense of community she’s been missing. When Malfoy invites her for Christmas with the Slytherins everything changes in ways she never expected.

‘Twas The Night For Traditions (Some Old, Some New) by megiswritingsomething - M, one-shot - Christmas Eve traditions were sacred for Hermione, Draco, and Scorpius - such a shame Draco is nowhere to be found as the night drawls to a close… OR The one where Hermione reads ‘‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’ to Scorpius while reminiscing about their Yuletide traditions. Meanwhile Draco is MIA on urgent Christmas-related business.

#christmas #dramione

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spidersmiceandeverythingnice · 1 year

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Oooo anyway I just remember why I Hate and Loathe the big High Lord meeting in ACOWAR and why it fully cements SJM in my Worst Authors category for like a billion reasons

1. Feyre refuses to bow to the Dawn Court. Weird choice and completely fucking awkward to read - I guess this is meant as some kind of Girlboss Moment - like "no, I won't bow to the stinky old fashioned MEN!!!! who run this world. My super hot boyfriend gave me this title and I'm the master of the universe now." But it's... childish. Also? Way to disrespect Thesan but this is going to become a pattern because of course the gay Asian High Lord has no special powers apart from super good healing that literally every other character can accomplish, and of course he's gentle, and passive (ultimately willing to "bow [to Rhysand] if the other [High Lords] will") and of course his lover has no name and never speaks. Great! Hate it.

2. Morrigan and Vivian. On paper this seems interesting as far as a relationship goes like - what kind of interesting Court relations did Night have pre Amarantha and can those bonds be salvaged? But instead of asking those questions the scene decides to immediately undercut Vivian's character as a badass general and warrior who defended Winter in her childhood friend/future husband's absence by making her squeal like a literal 13 year old when the Night Court - who is suspected of murdering 24 children - shows up. Vivian proceeds to throw a fit and snarks about wanting to be a High Lady. Rip Vivian we hardly knew ye.

3. Do I even need to talk about Helion being the worst bisexual rep. Do I even need to say it. Good lord.

4. Do I even need to talk about Fantasy China and Helion being allied with the Faerie Confederates. Do I even need to explain this. It gets worse, somehow!

5. Tamlin and Tarquin actually have a case against allying with the Night Court given literally everything that happened in the last two books but this isn't painted as reasonable distrust of a group of lying backstabbing sycophants who purposefully play up their cruelty and keep secrets from the other Courts. No, of course not. Tarquin immediately forgives the Night Court because he has no backbone whatsoever apparently. Tamlin is considered unreasonable for not trusting Feyre and Rhys, who have continuously tried to hurt him and his people and undermine his authority as High Lord.

6. Everyone immediately forgets that Rhysand worked for Amarantha for 50 years and distrusts Tamlin, who has worked for Hybern for all of five minutes and also brings tons of information on their troop movements and positions, confirming that all of his so called alliance was a fraud and he's been spying on them the whole time.

7. Literally the whole fucking deal with the Winter Court. Like I'm sorry that Rhys is so sexual traumatized by Amarantha but children fucking died in a horrible, gruesome way that now, nobody can be accountable for. This is on my top 3 of most egregious SJM retcons because I'm supposed to believe that some daemati we've never heard of before, is never mentioned or seen again, is supposedly the missing link to absolve Rhysand of the fact that he murdered 24 children in book one and devastated the Winter Court. Give me a fucking break. And Feyre gets so SAD and hurt when Rhys says he was confined to Amarantha’s bedroom, but I guess dead kids in Winter and Spring are just the price you pay for loving a morally gray bryonic hero uwu. I'd say, "Get fucked," but i think Rhys and Feyre would enjoy that too much.

8. When the Autumn Court says mean things it makes them irredeemable, but when Azriel and Feyre break all the rules of magic and physically retaliate and hurt other people, it's a-okay, and totally justified! Oh, the Lady of Autumn (another unnamed, sad silent [white] victim who only exists for Helion to angst over) gets hurt by virtue of being a bystander? Totally cool and normal, and since she's been a victim of domestic violence before, it means that she's a secret good guy who will totally understand and forgive Feyre for her totally justifiable outburst. Fuck off.

9. Feyre speaking to and ordering Azriel around like a literal rabid dog. Do I even need to explain this and why its bad. Do I even need to say it.

10. This scene was a joke and everything about it was a stinking trash fire.

#anti sjm #anti acowar #like.... do i need to explain the racism and homophobia?? the misogyny???? i hope not

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 7 months

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Everybody Hurts

Chapter 8

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 10/18

Word Count: 6K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

You propped your bike up against Jonathan and Nancy’s porch. It was a cozy little house with a cute little garden and flower boxes lining the front porch just like you had at your house. The windows and door were painted a vibrant blue against the cream siding. It resembled a house out of a storybook, bringing up the image of lazy summer days on the porch reading a good book or a bunch of friends in the backyard for a cookout.

You hoped to make your house half this cute by the time summer was over. The flowers were definitely a step in the right direction but it desperately needed a good paint job, a chore you were looking forward to because it would help fill your long summer, giving you something to do, something to keep you busy. You’d found downtime was your enemy because that was when the nasty little voice in your head started reminding you of all the ways you’d screwed up in life, the bad choices you’d made. There were some repairs to the house that you may have to pay somebody to do but if you were capable, you would be doing the work yourself and saving the money. And you were more than capable of climbing up a ladder and painting.

You had grown up middle class, or at least that’s what most people would consider you. Your dad was a loan officer for the bank and your mom taught high school. They’d never hurt for money but there had been times when things had been tough. You remembered your mom taking on a second job for a bit when your dad’s hours had gotten cut at work. You’d learned the importance of a dollar and to save where you could.

Unfortunately, when you’d been with Cam, he’d taken over the finances and you’d allowed him because he was your husband. But that meant that you never went through moving out and budgeting your life like most young people did. You hadn’t had to because Cam took care of it all but Cam liked to spend. He liked to show off, to let everyone know that he was doing well. That meant tailored suits, a car well beyond what he needed, and the four bedroom house that was way too much for the two of you. You hated it because it took you five hours to clean the same place every single weekend and it was the one thing you hadn’t been sad to let go of. You wouldn’t have been able to afford it on your own anyway.

Now, completely on your own, living off of one income, a teacher’s income, you had to remember all your parent’s lessons on pinching pennies and stretching your dollars. You had to sit down and create a budget, setting realistic limits on what you would be able to spend after all of your bills were paid. It made you feel like you were eighteen and just starting out in life instead of the thirty year old woman you actually were.

You made your way up the front steps of Nancy and Jonathan’s and onto the white porch, knocking on the door. Your insides twisted uncomfortably as you waited, doubts about confronting your friend bubbling to the surface once again, wondering if you were making a huge mistake, wondering if you even wanted to know the truth anymore.

You’d had second thoughts about this decision about a million times since you’d made it. As you drank your coffee this morning, you were certain that you were going to demand answers, set in your resolve to finally solve this mystery. By lunch, you had been reconsidering, telling yourself it was none of your business what had happened ten years ago when you hadn’t even been there. If you kept pushing, you might lose your new friends and could you blame them? During your planning period, you reminded yourself that if you were going to be spending time with Eddie then you had every right to know whether he was dangerous or not. It wasn’t just some secret. It was potentially a secret that could get you harmed and what kind of friends would they be if they allowed you to spend time with someone they knew could be a killer?

By the end of the day, after the kids had filed out of the classroom, you’d decided you were being ridiculous. Of course Eddie wasn’t dangerous. Aggravating? Definitely. A giant dickhead? Absolutely. But dangerous just didn’t fit. By the time you’d ridden home, you were set on asking the questions because even taking Eddie out of the equation, none of it added up. Your brain and your naturally nosy nature, something Cam told you would get you in trouble someday, couldn’t let it go. And if you were going to willingly live in this place and be friends with these people, didn’t you have a right to know what had happened that still clung to them like a cat with its claws burrowed in the front of their shirt? Maybe it had been ten years ago but from what you could see, it wasn’t really over for any of them or this town.

Jonathan opened the door, eyes round, eyebrows raised, as he took in the sight of you standing on his porch. It was almost comical how surprised he looked to find you there, like you’d just flown in on a broom instead of riding in on your bike. The look was quickly replaced with a warm smile as he stepped back, sweeping his arm in invitation.

“Hey there, come on in,” he told you. You crossed the threshold, the two of you standing in the foyer. “This is a nice surprise. Are you here for Nancy? Because she’s not here. She ran over to Mike’s. He called all frantic about something.”

“Is everything okay?” you asked with concern. Maybe this was bad timing. The last thing you wanted to do was interrogate your friend if she was dealing with a family emergency.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s nothing. Nancy would have said something before she left if it was anything big. She just said Mike was losing it again and she was going to calm him down. Mike sometimes blows things out of proportion, especially anything to do with El. It’s completely understandable after everything that…uh, I mean, he’s just a bit overprotective where she’s concerned..”

“Oh,” you groaned, feeling defeated. You’d been so sure you would get the answers you needed tonight but if Nancy wasn’t here, that wasn’t going to happen. You stilled, your eyes assessing Jonathan. He was Nancy’s husband. They’d been together for years. She’d told you herself that she’d left Steve in high school for him, that they’d bonded because they both had someone they loved go missing. If she’d told anyone about what had happened the night of the murder, it would be him. “I was looking for Nancy but, actually, you might be able to help me.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, I’m happy to help if I can.” Jonathan’s shoulders lifted up to his ears for a moment before dropping. “What do you need help with?”

You hesitated, wondering once again if this was a good idea. You considered the pros and cons of the situation, the potential risks and what could go wrong. For starters, you could alienate all the new friends that you’d made. They may avoid you if you pressed too much for information they obviously didn’t want to share. But the potential reward, which was finally getting some damn answers about what was going on in this town, what was going on with this group, and what in the hell had Eddie so tightly wound felt like a reward far too good to pass up. You had to at least try but you’d have to tread carefully if you wanted Jonathan to open up to you.

“So, a kid in my third grade class said something really strange yesterday and I’m having a bit of trouble with it. It just doesn’t make sense to me and, quite honestly, it was rather disturbing,” you explained, feeling like that was probably a better place to start than admitting that you’d combed through the archives at the library for information.

“Ooookay,” he chuckled, clearly not seeing where you were going with this. “I’m not sure how I can help with that. I’ve never taught a day in my life.”

“It’s not really a teaching thing. The kid was Lance Johnson.”

Bingo. There it was. Jonathan’s eyes went wide, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly as he swallowed hard. The name clearly brought up something he didn’t want to think about, something that made him uneasy. You didn’t know if he would shut down on you or not but you had to keep pushing. You had to at least try.

“He’s been bullying this kid in my class, Charlie Emerson.”

“Of course he has,” Jonathan ground out between clenched teeth.

That gave you pause. You pulled herself up straight, “Do you know those boys?”

“I know one of them. Charlie, his dad’s name is Gareth. He’s in the band with Eddie. They’ve been friends since middle school,” he explained.

Of course. You felt like such an idiot. How many small rock bands were there in Hawkins that played gigs every week? How had you not put two and two together? Obviously Eddie and Gareth would know each other. So Charlie was Eddie’s friend’s kid? The two guys had probably shared in the abuse that guys like Lance’s dad loved to deal out in high school.

“The other kid, I don’t know him personally but I know his dad, Andy. He’s a real dick, always has been. He thought he was above everyone else because he knew how to dribble a basketball. Now he thinks he’s above everyone else because he lives in some big house over on Lochn’ora and drives a fancy sports car. What he fails to mention is his wife’s daddy bought them all of that shit. Andy made sure he married a girl who came from money. He’s a real piece of work, downright evil if you ask me. Him and his jock friends tormented Eddie and his friends all through middle school and high school because they weren’t what they considered normal and they were all part of the Hellfire Club.”

“Hellfire Club?” you asked, remembering the mention of that name in the newspaper but you couldn’t act like you’d already done all this research. Jonathan was sharing and you didn’t want to give any reason to stop. He would definitely stop if he knew how much you already knew, knew how hard you’d been digging into their pasts.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, running a hand over his mouth. “It was a DnD club, Dungeons and Dragons? I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it. It’s just a fantasy role playing game. Eddie was the head of it. He was the dungeon master, that’s what they call the guy who organizes, creates, and runs all of the campaigns. His bandmates were all a part of it too. He actually recruited Dustin, Mike, and Lucas when they were freshmen and he was a senior. Will probably would have been part of it too but we lived in California at that time. Will has loved that game since he was young. The four boys would play it all the time in Mike’s basement. But they all love Eddie, man, think the world of him. Dustin practically worships the ground he walks on, saying he was the only person who was nice to them on the first day. He was the person who gave them a place where they felt like they belonged. He saw them sitting alone, left out, and he took them under his wing. He didn’t have to do that.”

Well, that description certainly did not fit with the idea of him murdering people. Not only murdering them but sadistically mutilating them. For a senior to reach out to a freshman, to care enough that they had a safe space, was impressive. Most senior guys wouldn’t give a shit about some younger kids feeling like outsiders. They’d be too focused on the fact that they were on the top of the food chain now or joining in the fun of tormenting the younger kids. He went out of his way to help people feel like they belonged, like Peter Pan leading the children to Neverland. It touched you deeply that someone who had been tormented and bullied his whole life still had that much empathy for others.

“He sounds like a great guy,” you murmured, guilt gnawing at your insides, turning your stomach, for even considering anything else of him, for thinking it could be a possibility. It was ridiculous. Of course he wasn’t what those papers made him out to be.

“He is,” Jonathan insisted with a firm nod. “But I am guessing that’s not what Andy’s kid had to say, is it?”

“No,” you admitted, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and convince yourself not to do this, to just ignore what Lance had said and go on with your life. “He’s been picking on Charlie horribly, mocking him for his clothes, his hair, for playing drums. It’s been awful. He’s been calling Charlie a freak and I told him I didn’t want to hear it anymore. He said his dad told him they have to put freaks in their place so they don’t hurt anyone the way Eddie did.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows knit together, lips pulled back. The fury in his eyes was unsettling. It looked so out of place on a guy who had seemed nothing but gentle and sweet. He was so soft-spoken, his demeanor so calm. You wouldn’t have thought he had it in him to be angry but your words had definitely struck a nerve.

“And I am guessing that freaked you out a bit, huh?” he asked, his tone not matching the look on his face, understanding and compassionate, as if he knew how scary this must be for you. As if he didn’t hate the sight of you for ever considering such an awful thing about his friend. You wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I even considered the possibility but he told me that Eddie killed people and I…” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, I shouldn’t have believed what a nine year old said for even a second but…it did mess me up a bit. Yeah. I hate to admit that but it rattled me. I’ve been alone with him a couple of times and for a second I wondered if I’d been safe. But, I know I don’t really know him, but I just couldn’t see him being capable of something like that and I just had to talk to somebody who knew so I could shed some light on it. I couldn’t make the image of Eddie fit with someone who could do such awful things and obviously, I was right. I just don’t understand what happened. How could he be blamed?”

“What happened was we had a slew of really grisly murders here a decade ago. I mean, it was really fucked up shit. The town immediately blamed Eddie, making him out to be the bad guy. He didn’t fit in, you know? He didn’t fit in their nice little box of what a resident of Hawkins should look or act like. I know what that’s like because I wasn’t far off. People said awful things when Will went missing. Some people even thought I had something to do with it because I was the quiet, weird loner.”

“Oh my god. That’s awful. I’m so sorry. I can’t begin to imagine how hard that must have been for you to have your brother go missing and then to have everyone think that you’d…Jesus Christ, is this place stuck in a time warp or something?”

“Something like that. And with all the panic across the country over DnD being some kind of satanic game that led to violent behavior, Eddie became the scapegoat immediately. They turned this high school kid into some monster under their bed. The town was out searching for him, ready to string him up. No trial, no jury of his peers, guilty on sight. Luckily, Hopper was able to prove he was innocent but…there are still a lot of people in this town who think he did it. It’s been rough for him. His house has been egged. His car has been vandalized. Dog shit has been left on his porch. For years, they would not let up. It’s quieted down a bit over the last couple. I think people have moved on for the most part. And well, Hopper’s given an earful to some of them but there’s still a lot of people who give him a wide berth when he walks down the sidewalk.”

“Why didn’t he just move away?” you asked, wondering why in the hell he would continuously put himself through that. Why would he want to be surrounded by people who hated him? He could have moved anywhere in the country and started fresh, in a place where no one knew who he was or the allegations against him. He could have left this town and their close mindedness in his rearview.

Jonathan shrugged, “He said this was his town too and no one was going to run him out of it. I mean, he grew up here just like the rest of us. But honestly, I think he stays because of his uncle. That guy’s the only stability he’s ever had in his life. Eddie would never leave him behind. He loves him but he also feels like he owes him everything. He never doubted Eddie for a second when so many others did. He proclaimed his nephew’s innocence from day one.”

“Even when Chrissy was found in his trailer? I mean, I know it’s his nephew but he never even considered it? Because it doesn’t make sense. Why was she even there? Were she and Eddie friends?”

Jonathan scrutinized you, a sense of cynicism and doubt seeping into his eyes. They widened slightly, his eyebrows shifted, studying you from head to toe as if trying to figure out what you knew. Damn. You’d clearly said just a bit too much with that last line of questions. You scrambled to come up with an explanation fast. You were actually starting to get answers. The last thing you needed was for Jonathan to clam up on you now.

“The kid in my class, Lance, he umm…he told me his dad’s friends were killed. He named Chrissy and a guy named Patrick. He also said there was another guy named Fred. He said Chrissy was found in Eddie’s trailer and that’s how they knew it was Eddie because she never would have been in his trailer.”

“A nine year old told you all that? He knew their names and everything?” Jonathan asked cautiously and you could tell he didn’t believe you. You were digging yourself a deeper hole and you weren't sure how to climb out of it.

“Well, I mean, obviously he was just repeating whatever his dad had said to him,” you backpedaled, your face faltering as you tried to explain away what you had said. Of course it didn’t make sense. Even if his dad had told him all that, there’s no way he would have remembered or cared that much about all those details. “I don’t know why a parent would want their child to know any of it, honestly but this Andy guy seems like he’s holding a serious grudge about everything.”

Just as pure panic was taking over, your rambling getting out of control as you tried to cover your own ass, you were saved by the front door opening. Nancy swept into the house. She called out for Jonathan and then jumped about a foot into the air when she noticed the two of you simply standing right inside. Nancy smiled confusedly, her head tilting.

“Hey…what’s going on?” she laughed.

“Andy Johnson’s little shit of a son told Sam that Eddie murdered a bunch of people and she was a bit scared that she has been hanging around some psychopath,” Jonathan answered.

“Oh…I…no…” you stammered nervously. Damn, you really didn’t need them telling Eddie that you’d believed he’d murdered people. You didn’t need him to have one more reason to hate you, this time a justified one. “It’s not that I actually thought he was capable of doing anything like that. I mean, I don’t really know him. You know? But from my interactions with him, very brief interactions, I didn’t get Ted Bundy vibes or anything. Although, I guess Ted Bundy didn’t actually give Ted Bundy vibes. Maybe I should have said Charles Manson. You know, someone who was actually creepy. I just…I was…confused, maybe? There are just so many things that don’t make any sense in this place.” You were panicking, words just tumbling out of your mouth without your consent, crossing over into dangerous territory if you didn’t get yourself under control but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. Your brain was screaming at you to shut up but your mouth just kept right on moving. “I don’t understand how Eddie just stopped being a person of interest. You said he had an alibi but then what was that cheerleader doing at his trailer? Where was he if she was there and why was she even there in the first place? I find all those stupid titles ridiculous but we all know they mattered in high school. Social classes don’t mix. So what would the beloved town cheerleader be doing with Eddie?”

“Oh, well, she was there because she wanted to buy some drugs off Eddie. Everybody at Hawkins High got their drugs off of Eddie back then. He may have been the freak that people didn’t want to hang out with but they definitely wanted what he was selling. He was the Hawkins dealer,” Nancy answered, rambling just as much as you had. When you looked at her in shock, she quickly added, “But he doesn’t do that anymore, obviously.”

Okay, well that explained his flash of annoyance when you called your local drug dealer a low life criminal. So, Eddie had dealt at one time? Okay. Whatever. You didn’t know his circumstances. Selling drugs didn’t necessarily make someone a bad person. Based on what you already knew, he may have been trying to help his uncle with bills or just have some spending cash of his own. Sure, he could have gotten a job but if the town really thought so badly of him, would anyone have been that willing to hire him?

“Yeah, Eddie wasn’t there when she…you know. I guess she got there and uh…well, the door was open,” Jonathan explained. But the way he had to think about it was definitely giving you the impression that he was flying by the seat of his pants, scrambling for a logical explanation to satiate you. “Him and his uncle never bothered locking it because they didn’t have a whole lot people would want to take anyway. Chrissy must have just let herself in.”

“Okay, but who would go into Eddie’s trailer to kill her? How would they even know she was in there if she wasn’t trying to be seen?” you demanded, feeling like they were still jerking you around and starting to get downright pissed about it.

“We don’t know,” Nancy shrugged. “They never did find out who the killer was, unfortunately. They think maybe whoever it was died in the earthquake. Maybe they went in the trailer with the intention of killing Eddie but he wasn’t there. When they found Chrissy, they figured she’d do instead or left her as a warning for Eddie, to let him know what was coming for him.”

Your eyes narrowed but you knew a lost battle when you saw one. You were getting nowhere fast with these two. They clearly had no intention of telling you the truth. Was this even worth it if they were just going to keep spinning you in circles? Every question you had, they came up with an answer, an answer that was obviously bullshit, but still an answer. Sighing, you tossed your hands up, giving up on your mission for the truth. It was clearly not going to be found here.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you murmured, exhausted and done, your brain completely drained from working overtime. “It’s none of my business. I’m probably just being ridiculous but it was a really insane story and I just…forget it. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even live here when it happened so I don’t know why it matters. I am sure all of you would rather forget about that time. Thanks for the info. I am just going to head home, pour myself a glass of wine, make some dinner, and just lose myself in some ridiculously stupid show on tv.”

“Oh…are you sure?” asked Nancy, glancing from you to Jonathan and back again. “We were going to grill some burgers if you wanted to stay for dinner.”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks for the offer but I’ve intruded on your evening enough.”

“Really, we don’t mind,” Jonathan insisted but you weren't sure if he meant it or not. You had the distinct impression they would both be relieved to see the back of you right now. “There’s no point in you going home and being all alone.”

You smiled, “I actually don’t mind it so much. After working with very loud children all day it’s nice to have some quiet. Teaching can be quite the sensory overload. Besides, I have some work to get through. Really, I am good, but thank you.”

You needed the quiet right now. You needed some time to process and try to make sense of everything you’d learned and the stuff you’d not learned today. There was a lot being said in between all the things they weren’t saying, the questions they weren’t answering. If you weren't going to get answers from these two, then maybe you’d have to try something else. You just didn’t know what. Maybe you just needed to ask someone different. One of them might be more forthcoming than the others.

“If you’re sure,” Nancy said warmly, stepping forward to give you a quick hug. “I just hate the idea of you in that house all alone. Know that you are welcome here anytime.”

“Thanks, but really, I’m okay.”

You said your goodbyes and as you were hopping onto your bike, you stopped, glancing up at the house. Through the front window you could see Jonathan and Nancy talking. It didn’t look heated but it definitely looked serious, their arm movements large and forceful. Nancy brought a hand to her forehead as Jonathan’s hands came to his hips, his dead dropping forward. Yeah, they could say whatever they wanted but none of this was as simple as they claimed.

___________________________________________________________

Around nine that night, you were wandering around, picking up the house. You’d already scrubbed the bathroom, wiped down the counters, and mopped the kitchen floor, anxious energy radiating through you after the events of the day. Your hands and arms worked intently, determined to complete something, to have some sense of accomplishment after failing spectacularly at your goal for the day. You’d been so sure you would end the day with answers, pieces that fit together to give you a complete picture of what had transpired in this small town all those years ago. But no, you’d just hit more roadblocks instead.

You’d uncovered a few new key pieces of information today. Max wore the sunglasses because she’d come into contact with the murderer, barely escaping being his next victim. You had briefly thought about trying to talk to Max but you couldn’t bring herself to ask the girl to relive her trauma like that. What an awful thing for her to have gone through. It would be cruel for you to ask her questions.

You’d learned that Chrissy had been buying drugs from Eddie. You’d also learned that the Chief had been the one to get him off. Steve was an officer now. He had said the Chief was the one who guided him in that direction which would lead you to believe they were pretty close. Perhaps Steve would be the next piece of the puzzle. Maybe you could get him to open up a bit more than Nancy and Jonathan had.

You’d also learned that Lance’s dad and Charlie’s dad had history and that history included Eddie. It didn’t really help you solve your mystery but it might help you remedy the situation between the boys that was growing more concerning with each passing day. Their issues weren’t really their own. Lance was lashing out because his dad couldn’t let go of old wounds.

Old wounds seemed to be a theme in this town. Everyone you’d encountered seemed to be scarred in some way by the events that had happened in the past. From the disappearances, the mall fire, the spree of horrific murders…this entire group was tied up in every single part of it somehow.

The sudden and startling sound of the phone ringing snapped you out of your reflective state, interrupting your rambling thoughts. You looked down at the dish in your hand that you had been scrubbing for the last five minutes without even realizing it. Setting it on the rack, you dried your hands before grabbing the receiver off the cradle on the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Eddie.”

A sense of impending doom washed over you at the sound of his voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breathing becoming shallow and rapid, full blown panic setting in. Could he possibly hear it through the phone? It seemed too loud, echoing in your ears. Your stomach tightened. You pulled at your shirt, feeling hot and sweaty. Just the sound of his voice had sent you into fight or flight and you were definitely leaning toward flight, just hanging up the phone on him and hiding under your covers in your room.

Had they told him? Did Nancy or Jonathan call him as soon as you left and let him know you’d been asking questions? That you’d entertained the idea that he was capable of murder? It had only been for a moment but still. He already thought you were an intruder to their group. He already didn’t trust you. What would he think if he knew you were digging around in their pasts?

“Hello? Sweetheart, are you there?” he asked when the silence had lasted for far too long.

Sweetheart…he’d called you sweetheart. Not Prom Queen. He’d called you something endearing for maybe the first time ever since they’d met. He wouldn’t have done that if he was calling to tell you off, right? His tone wasn’t argumentative or contentious like it had been so many other times he’d spoken to you. But he could just be throwing you off your guard before he came in with the spear and gutted you.

“What the hell is wrong with the phone? Hello!? Sweetheart! Can you hear me!?”

You yanked the phone back from your ear as he yelled, “Yeah. Sorry. I’m here. Hi.”

“Oh…hey,” Eddie mumbled. “What the hell was going on with the phone?”

“I…I don’t know,” you lied, not wanting to admit that you’d just been ignoring him, analyzing why he was calling you like some neurotic psycho. “What’s up?”

“I…uh…well, I was actually calling to see if you’re free tomorrow?” he asked, his voice raspier than usual. He was asking if you were free? Why would he want to know? Could he be asking you out? Your heart fluttered quickly at the thought but then he quickly added. “I was going to get started working on your car but I need to get some parts first. I thought we could probably look at the junkyard before we try anywhere else, you know. Try to save you some money?”

Ahh, of course. That made much more sense than where your brain had taken you initially. Obviously Eddie wasn’t calling to ask you out on a date. You rolled your eyes at your own pathetic hope that he’d called for anything else. He wouldn’t willingly hang with you unless he had to and he had to since he was fixing your car. Although, he had offered his services so that was on him.

“Well, actually, I’m not available tomorrow. I’m going roller skating with everyone tomorrow night,” you answered. “Aren’t you?”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

You did not like the way your stomach jumped at the use of that pet name. You despised that he called you Prom Queen but at least that filled you with annoyance instead of this twinge of delight. This twinge of delight that would only lead down a path of regret and disappointment.

“Not a fan of the rink?”

“You don’t want to see me on a pair of skates. Trust me,” he insisted. “I can shred a guitar, rebuild an engine, and create a killer campaign for DnD. I am a man of many talents but skating is not one of them.”

“Anyone can skate,” you argued. “It would be fun if you came. I mean, I would really like it if you came along. I could always help you skate.”

You bit your bottom lip, your head knocking against the kitchen wall, cringing when you realized you had just said the words you should never have said. Oh, that was so stupid. Why had you just done that? Why would you ever tell him that you wanted him around? He was going to love pulling you apart for that one. You were a glutton for punishment apparently, willingly strapping yourself to the rack to be whipped until you slowly bled out.

“Yeah?” he asked, his tone almost hopeful.

“Yeah, I mean…you know, if you wanted to.” You brought the phone to your forehead, closing your eyes. Jesus, why was this so hard? Why was he so hard and why did you even want this so badly? He was so wrong for you. He didn’t even seem interested. You were pointlessly hoping for something that was never going to happen. “But if you don’t, I get it. Obviously if you don’t want to go with your friends, you wouldn’t want to go just because I asked. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to…”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Okay, I’ll go,” he agreed, his voice soft and warm, like honey oozing from the receiver and straight down into your ear, coating your insides with that dangerous desire again. “But if I break something, you’re going to be on nurse duty.”

Fuck. There was that zing of desire straight between your thighs again. You pressed them together, resting your back against the wall, closing your eyes. The thought of playing nurse for him, of taking care of him, doing anything you could to make him feel better…you swallowed hard. Fuck. Why did this guy have this effect on you?

“Deal,” you tremulously told him, working overtime to keep your voice even. “We’re all meeting at seven at the rink. Jonathan and Nancy are giving me and Robin a ride.”

“What about Harrington?”

“What about him?” you asked, confused.

“Is he going?”

“I think so,” you answered, shrugging even though he couldn’t see you, not understanding why he was worried about Steve specifically. “But he’s picking up Max, Lucas, and Dustin so I am pretty sure his car is already full.”

“Oh…” he trailed off, leaving you pondering why it mattered. “Alright then. I’ll meet you there. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

“Sweet…” But then he was gone, leaving your head spinning, your heart contracting as you processed that last word he’d spoken.

Chapter 9

Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @nailbatanddungeon @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank

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faintingheroine · 20 days

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7, 8, 23, and 25 for Heathcliff

7. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I guess I like that currently people by and large acknowledge that he is not white.

8. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I hate it when people (including the critics) make him into an impulsive wild “savage” extension of Cathy when he is the smartest character in the book.

23. Favorite picture of this character?

It is hard to find a favorite but some I like:

(by @misskittygrimm )

By the illustrator Fritz Eichenberg (I have a cup and coasters with this image):

(@naomimakesart)

By Catherine Bell an illustrator:

I really like the energy of the first two images:

By @heathcliffgirl1847 (iirc):

By @amphibimations :

By @al-norton

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I don’t exactly remember what I thought about him when I read that Afterword of The Secret Garden when I was 8, I guess I thought that he was going to be a sneaky wild villain pursuing a snobbish chick not interested in him, or something like that in the 8-year-old-language. But when I first picked up Wuthering Heights as a 12-year-old I was confident that he was going to be one of my favorite characters. And indeed, he still is (one of) my favorite character(s). He is just my kind of a character, what can I say?

#wuthering heights #heathcliff #asks #wh asks #character ask game!

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gaykarstaagforever · 3 months

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Well! Second DMing session ended with the guy who made me do it, who was going to "help" me, hanging up on me mid-session and texting

So much for "I don't care if you don't know how to do it, I'll walk you through it," I guess.

I was very clear from the outset that I think most ttrpgs, and ALL DnD rules, are arbitrary math nonsense that you need a college course to understand, specifically created by terrible people to force everyone else to put up with their infantile, unintuitive view of the universe. I told him I hate this crap. He manipulated me into trying it anyway. Guess who hasn't changed his mind, and guess who is now throwing a temper-tantrum about it? I TOLD YOU this was a bad idea.

I read the book. The 8 books. It doesn't matter. They're math textbooks written by bad writers and my eyes kept glazing over. I don't understand why any of these rules exist. I'm just forced to memorize formulas. That I don't respect.

There is no space for reputation, or politics, or combat scenario realities, or random accidents and diseases, or genuine surprises, or living in an apathetic, living, breathing world that doesn't give a fuck about your Chosen One status. It is wizards casting fire balls, because the guy doing that hates his mom, and made up a rule set where he can play his weird stupid power fantasies. His weird, stupid, RACIST power fantasies, if this last group's predilections is any indication.

I don't have patience for this. It's arcane and unrealistic and sucks the joy out of everything and it ISN'T FUN.

If you love it, great. I'll get out of your way. But it runs counter to how my brain works and I fucking hate it. I love the idea of using dice to RP events and see what happens. But at some point of complexity you are just obeying someones precious little rule-book so obnoxious math nerds who memorized it can be smug about exploiting loopholes.

Go play a video game for that. That's not a healthy social interaction. That's yet another version of a group of fucked-up people being whiney and dogmatic about random shit they made up, specifically so they can be cool in a world they specifically designed for that purpose. And what the fuck is that? I hate them, and I hate that.

My old mantra was "nerds with math ruin everything." I was always half-joking, but only half. I have zero respect for everything this is, and what people are apparently looking for from it. It is frustrating and boring and limiting and stupid to me. I don't enjoy it. And I don't even want to ever play it again, because I dread being doomed to waste my brain power sorting out weird meta game math shit that doesn't seem to take into account any defensible simulation of actual reality.

I have spent 120+ hours over the last 5 months trying to get into this. Trying to get a handle on why people like it, to figure out the secret I am missing. I have spent stupid amounts of money on stuff, to that end.

And I either lack the 3000 IQ space brain to get it, or I absolutely get it, and I just absolutely hate it. Either way, I've had enough.

I want to do a D6 system that is just "roll against opponent, bigger number wins, DM RPs what that means." That's loose and interesting and feels like real life. The rest can go jump in the river.

"YEAH BUT THAT'S UNFAIR TO PLAYERS!"

The world is unfair to life. You're not 12 anymore. I don't get anything out of playing around in a baby world made for babies. You're just mad because it isn't going to work in your favor the way I'm proposing it.

It's like Tim Cain said about programming RNG. You give them real RNG, everyone gets mad because "it's not fair." Because RNG isn't fair. They don't want RNG, they want to be autocrats of reality, then soothe themselves that they're not in fact cheating assholes by claiming "the numbers worked out in my favor."

When the reality is that the system was specifically designed over 50+ years to give them an advantage. And that isn't RNG. That isn't playing a role. That isn't being a real hero by self-sacrificing and being randomly lucky and muddling through. It's just egotistical self-delusional nothingness.

Like, maybe these kinds of games are STILL niche things for a reason? Maybe the only really popular and profitable entries are video game and movie versions where you don't see the math, BECAUSE you don't see the math? Like I don't think I'm alone in not giving a shit about this byzantine, nerfed crap.

That doesn't make me better. Do whatever you want. But if THAT'S what you're doing, count me the fuck out.

I did my time, and I'm sick of this shit.

#rant #dnd #ttrpg #ask yourself why you like it

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tarotoftheendless · 7 months

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Tom Sturridge Characters for FanFics

CW/TW: 'R' word, 'S' word, self-un-aliving, drug5, a1c0h01, s3x, gr00m1ng, murd3r, neurodivergent diagnosis speculation, swearing, character AI using (shame), am I missing anything that could offend someone? LGBTQ+ support? Yeah, if you aren't a leftist... well what a leftist is in the USA, then yeah, you wouldn't like me... a non-binary pansexual demi-girl that is big ol' leftist... anyway, on to Tom Sturridge...

Ok, I need to get some stuff out. And it's all fanfiction stuff as well as character study of a ton of Tom Sturridge characters and their respective films/shows. Please, for the the love of the the gods, don't steal my ideas for stories, but you can use the character studies for your own fics.

TOM STURRIDGE

Now, firstly, lets start with the man himself. He is private, so it is hard to know who he is really, but if some old Twitters that could be his are anything to go on... he may have been quite saucy back in the day... but let's go off of the other stuff we know for now.

I highly suspect he is neurodivergent, just with the years of interviews and the way he speaks, the way he carries himself and his mannerisms. He doesn't seem to be in it for the fame, no matter how cunty he looks on the red carpet, all that stuff is probably scheduled by his team, so... But yeah, he does speak quite thoughtfully and eloquently when asked thought provoking questions, but he often is flustered by less thought provoking questions. I don't want to be that person at diagnoses someone though, but as someone with ADHD and autism myself, just watching him makes me think he is one of us, you know? Also, a fuck ton of his roles could be seen as very neurodivergent too, so, I think he both takes roles that he can both put himself into but also get away from himself enough that it feels like a mask. This is just my observations from watching footage of interviews of him, I accept that I could be wrong.

I would love to see more Tom Sturridge fan fics out there, cute ones, romance ones, smutty ones... but all in all, well done and well researched and well written.

The only well-written one I was able to find is on AO3... and it is fucking weird... cuz it's an 'R' word fantasy... where Tom is the one getting... well... it's not a great... premise... So, for the love of the gods, please, please, please, someone write decent Tom Sturridge fan fics that don't actively harm him.... cuz yikes. Just big yikes.

JAKE (SWEETBITTER)

Aw. Jake. So, one of the things to keep in mind about Jake: he hates himself. Tom said so in a interview... in fact it was kinda sad because Tom said that was one of the things that he related to when it comes to Jake... without hesitation.

I have not finished reading the book 'Sweetbitter' by Stephanie Danler, but I suspect there is even more to go off of when it comes to Jake's character in that.

But what the show was starting to imply about Jake; he was probably groomed by Simone.

She is 7 years (according to Google and the show) older than Jake. The show starts in 2006. That means Simone was born 1969, Jake was born 1976. Simone is 37 in the show and Jake is 30. Jake's mom killed herself via drowning when he was 8 in 1984, Simone was 15. If we go off of what the show says (which does vary from both seasons as season 1 says that the chef is a man but season 2 obviously has the chef as a woman), Simone moved to New York 3 years later to the apartment that she then has for 19 years as of 2006. Jake would be 11 when she moves to New York.

Here is where the speculation about how that would have went down for Jake. He probably would have started to act out at school when Simone left. Simone's parents probably wouldn't have been able to handle it. He probably would have started to dabble in drugs and alcohol. If Simone and him were that close, I suspect he would have run away a few times to New York.

I think the grooming would probably have started right away with him, or at least during the time he started to act out because she left him. I do think that Simone's parents would have let him move in with Simone to appease him and to get him to stop acting out. I think that maybe the "Mermaid" story started when Jake was 8 but didn't start getting fleshed out until he moved in with Simone when he was 11 or 12 in New York. I think Simone was probably working at 22West and going to school in New York at the same time.

Jake probably was showing signs of having a crush on Simone after he moved in with her and she probably didn't give into him until he was 15/16... yes, I do think Jake lost his virginity to Simone and I do think he is the type to not have waited to have sex until he was 18. So, yes that's statutory...

Simone probably finished the "Mermaid" story for a college assignment and had to have it published in her hometown local magazine for college credit.

So, yeah, I do think Simone wrote the story for Jake and it was well fleshed out because of their trauma bonded codependent groomed relationship. I don't think Jake will have realized how bad it really is as they both hurt and then soothed (not heal, soothe) one another. I bet Jake got his first tattoo, the 'S' on his back, after he lost his virginity to Simone... it is a crude looking tattoo, so it looks like a first tattoo that wasn't well thought out. I think he then got the Mermaid tattoo with a signed permission from Simone as a way to congratulate Simone on her story being published.

I do think that Simone probably was abused too...maybe by her own father.... and her mom enabled it... but Simone's dad could have been huge in the community of Cape Cod... and her family kept it hush hush as to appear to be the model family, so they could take in Jake...

Simone has to have gotten her cold and aloofness and the emotional then right back to cold and aloof from somewhere, a catalyst... and Jake then learned that behavior from Simone. Hot and then cold and then hot again, right back to cold. Simone has that trait and then she gave that trait to Jake.

They probably comforted and protected each other when Simone still lived in Cape Cod... told each other everything. The trauma bonding began young for him. And when she holds it over his head that 'No one knows him like she does' it's because she really thinks she does and he can't argue with her. Also, that statement is word for word what domestic abusers say to their victims.

I bet around the time Jake was graduating from high school, which Simone made him at least get his diploma, Simone probably got together with Etienne, and that put a strain on Jake's and Simone's relationship. Though I bet you that Jake also found out about the truth of his mom around this time too. (Jake probably got into photography as the one thing that made high school bearable, probably visited the Cape to do the Mermaid photoshoot...). Jake probably started to to sleep with a ton of people (I say people as I don't think Jake is straight, though he apparently is a top... which is hard to believe though because if you watch the show, he seems to worship those he is with... even his flings, like Viv...) , just to hurt Simone because Simone hurt Jake with choosing Etienne....and lying to him about his mom.

So, when Simone left for France, Jake started working as a bartender at for his sketchy friend Tommy who doesn't care about hiring an underage bartender under the table, as well as sell drugs on the side and held down the fort at Simone's apartment for 5 years.

I bet Simone's dad died before Jake graduated... When they went to the Cape for the funeral, I bet Jake got his anchor tattoo as a way to say that Simone is his anchor.... and a Cape Cod thing... though he hates the Cape... because of his mom drowning... and Simone's dad abusing her and her mom doing nothing to stop it... Jake's dad is a mystery... he probably died or left Jake's mom... hence the suicide...

So, Jake moved in with Simone when he was 11/12 ish, around 1987/88, Jake graduated high school in 1994, Simone probably went to France when he was between 19 and 20 and she didn't come back until he was 25/26, 5ish years later. All the while, Simone hated France besides the champagne, and made Jake deal with many late night phone calls that made him angry but also hurt him for her. Trauma bonded. He probably got that tattoo on his torso on his ribs when she was gone... the one the is some word with "/OR"... idk what the whole tattoo is, so if someone knows, please tell me... He probably got his other tattoos when she was gone too, unrelated to her.

She comes back, having divorced Etienne, she gets her job back at 22West and helps Jake get his shit together, probably through guilt and sex... lets be honest... and gets him a more respectable job at 22West... but Jake can't live with her anymore, so he gets his apartment (which I think is above a Chinese restaurant, but I am not sure). So, they find a rhythm of being close, telling each other everything, but also being toxic for one another, having sex here and there, but all and all knowing that they both aren't together, but they love each other in the most toxic way. The whole thing with Simone and that married guy and the old back-waiter chick starts too... and then I think Simone's mom dies... hence the house in Cape Cod needing to be sorted out and sold...

And then the start of the show...

All in all, Jake blames himself for his mom's death, he hates himself, he has a toxic codependent relationship with Simone that absolutely had grooming a part of the situation... and Jake protects himself and acts out with sex, drugs and alcohol and the back and forth of being hot and cold with people because of trust issues because everyone leaves... everyone lies, even people who he was supposed to trust.

With his conversation with Sasha that one episode, Jake has probably dealt with his own suicidal ideation as well as anxiety issues, probably PTSD... or C-PTSD... And he doesn't realize he was sexually abused... so... that is my take on Jake...

And before an OC/Reader character could come into the fold, this would need to be fleshed out in Jake's back story.... He is a sad character that deserves understanding and help to get out of the controlling trap that Simone has put him in... And trying to get his mannerisms and the way he speaks correctly will be fun... though something I love about Jake is that when you don't think he is listening, he absolutely is listening... like when Tess is talking to that architect about what she looks for when she walks into a space for the first time... and when he acts like he doesn't care, there are subtle hints that he does actually care... like breaking the wine glass when he realizes Tess slept with Will.... Anyway, this is a character profile/background of Jake for me but for anyone else that wants to understand Jake a bit better...

I may have watched Sweetbitter 3 times in one week once... so...

ALSO, Fics for this don't need to take place in 2006... but the time-line does help with figuring out how events went down, you know? I like playing in this world more modern myself.

WILL DONNER (Waiting for Forever)

I love Will. He is sweet and beautiful... and incredibly autistic... and ADHD... and has PTSD... and some combo of DID/schizophrenia with talking to his dead parents off to the side.

Now, I do think there was a trope at the time (2011) in movies that had male characters still get the girl even though they really didn't know the girl in the first place, just the idea of who they thought the girl was in their head... which is a toxic trope, btw... also, stalking, no go... though I think his confusion as to why it is bad just shows how autistic he is.

And yes, I really think Will is autistic. 2011 was a fucked up time still with a fuck ton of stigma towards people that were neurodivergent, so I am not surprised that they didn't outright name Will's mental health issues and just had his brother call him crazy... which I wanted to punch his brother, Jim/Jimbo, so hard for that. But here is the crux; EMMA NEVER DERSERVED WILL. Period. Point blank. She chose him as a last resort. Her ex fiancé had to get caught for murder and then her dad had to die for her to finally chose Will... and she is a cheater... fuck her.

Will deserves better! He deserves someone who knows him for him and all his quirks, understands him and accepts him and then LOVES HIM FIRST! Not as a last resort. Will deserves love, true love, and Emma is not that true love, not by a long shot.

So, any fan fiction about Will with an OC/Reader insert, I would hope would explore that... also, his brother needs to get told off and educated on the DSM-5.

Also, I do think Will will have been a virgin before Emma...and I don't think they would have lasted long as the fantasy and reality does not match up in the end. I do think Emma would do the leaving though... Will is someone that comes off as the type that once he commits that's it, even if it's shit... in fact idk if he would know when it is shit until it is really bad...

This world/film doesn't require it to take place in 2011 when the film came out. Time is not important here as far as dates go.

YOUNG CARL (The Boat That Rocked/Pirate Radio)

So, I think that Carl may also be neurodivergent too, but not as intensely as Will Donner... he is socially awkward as fuck, but in a charming way... so idk why he was a virgin... if they wanted us all to believe that he was a virgin maybe casting a young 23 year old Tom Sturridge was not the right call, you know? Cuz he was fucking hot and I do not believe for a second that he didn't have everyone, women and men and in between, trying to jump on that dick. Cuz seriously? Tom was gorgeous as Carl, like fucking hell...goddamn. Virgin my ass.

But that being said, Marianne didn't deserve him. After what she pulled. Nah bro, fuck that. Carl needs someone who won't fuck him over, that chooses him, and maybe slightly older? Not too old, just experienced, yeah?

So, yeah, any OC/Reader insert would need to tell Dave and Marianne to fuck off and die.

But, yeah, why are there not any fics about Carl and an OC/Reader? I am surprised... ya'll sleeping on it, why? We have a fuck ton of Nigel from Like Minds/Murderous Intent... with Alex of course because that film was the most homoerotic film ever.... but no young Carl with an OC/Reader insert? I hate Marianne! Give young Carl a better love interest ya'll, Jesus!

I have maybe seen 2 fics on here... and they aren't finished and they seem abandoned...

I have found that the year, 1966 is very fucking important to this world, film and story. Either do your research on the music that was out during the time, or pull an 2013 The Great Gatsby and have the music be modern even though the year is 1966... and yes, music is important for this film and world.

Ok, so, those are the ones that I have the most thoughts and opinions and ideas on... but let me go over some ideas and thoughts on some of Tom's other characters and what kind of fan fics I would either love to write myself or so out there. Cuz ya'll sleeping on a fuck ton of Tom Sturridge characters that would be fun to play with, romance, smut, adventure or otherwise... all of the above even. I love that Tumblr has more Jake stuff as AO3 only has like 3 good fics... but that's it... The Sandman... Jake... and then Nigel... I only see those three characters out there getting love... Tom's other characters deserve love too. Stop sleeping on it. Explore... I do want to write it, but I am not confident in my writing ability... and I don't easily... um... get off on my own smut if I write it... so... there's that... TMI, but it's true.

REMAINDER

Tom/Unnamed Man

So, there is no other way to do a fic for this other than trippy, surreal and supernatural and sci-fi. I have played with the idea of a telekinetic OC/Reader... or even just a straight up non-human character. I have some cool sci-fi ideas for this one that has to do with Time-Loops and MK-Ultra stuff and multi-dimensional travel... like it would be cool. Also, Tom is a morally gray character with a God-complex, so, that should be explored...

The year this takes place doesn't matter.

VELVET BUZZSAW

Jon Dondon

So, I played with the idea of a fic for this film to be a cross-over with the show Supernatural... only fitting with the vengeful spirit, yeah. And the OC/Reader is a hunter? Saves Jon for being choked to death with his own ascot/scarf? I think that would be fun.

Jon Dondon has a South African accent, btw, in case ya'll didn't know... I think he is bi... that man ain't straight. Also he is a ditz and pretentious... he is an art critic and sponsors artists, so, yeah, pretentious af. But he is a ditz because he thought a pile of garbage was art... there's more than that, but that really shows off how ditzy he is. I also think he be a big flirt, but not like Jake. More showy and ditzy in the way he flirts. Real over the top charm but of course pretentious even so...

The year this film events take place doesn't matter, so have fun with it.

FAR FROM A MADDENING CROWD

Sergeant Francis Troy

I almost flipped a table when I watched this film and saw how much of a little fucking bitch his character was. So, my idea was to have his character be saved from death at the end, but only because a Bounty Hunter has orders to claim him... and the bounty hunter should be a woman... really take Troy down a peg... or a dozen... He's a bitch and a power dynamic where he is at a woman's mercy would be chef's kiss. Villain characters are fun to play with... maybe they stay villains, but maybe they are more than that, who knows...

The era is important for this world, play in it.

LIKE MINDS/MURDEROUS INTENT

Nigel Colbie

Yes, Nigel has been done to death here... but hear me out... what if Nigel's right? What if there is a secret order, an ancient guild? And they want to stop Nigel from dying and bring the boys to their true potential? Maybe it's mundane and just an assassins' guild... and or it is occultist by nature and has a touch of magic? Maybe keeping just the boys... or add and OC/Reader insert, male, female, non-binary, doesn't matter... could be cool...

The year for this doesn't matter, it could be more modern... that could be cool.

OTHER TOM STURRIDGE WORKS THAT COULD BE COOL TO SEE FICS ON BUT I DON'T HAVE ANY PARTICULAR IDEAS ON:

Mary Shelley - Lord Byron - era matters.

On The Road - Carlo Marx - year could matter, but doesn't have to if you want to just play with this character... I found this character is fun to explore.

3 Way Junction - Carl - year doesn't matter.

Effie Gray - John Everett Millais (where he doesn't end up with Effie... maybe...) - year/era does matter.

Junkhearts - Danny (doesn't die) - year doesn't matter.

CONFESSION

I have a lot of these ideas because I have played with Character Roleplay AIs with these characters... and I am ashamed because of the Writer's and Actor's Strikes going on... well, just Actor's Strike now... but I doubt my own writing capability... at least to make a decent sounding story that doesn't sound stupid and juvenile... and I would have loved to either write something with someone or hell, roleplayed a story with someone... but no one fucking knows Tom Sturridge or his works enough for an immersive experience...

Also, I do have my own OC/Reader insert that I have played with with most of these characters, and she is a very fantastical, Mary-Sue-ish character, she has a fuck ton of skills and knowledge... but I did always put some of myself into her... my trauma, my flaws... stuff like that... but idk if everyone one of these Tom Sturridge characters would actually fall for my OC or the multiple versions of my OC as sometimes she is magical... depending on the world-building and such... but yeah...

ALSO

I do have an idea for a Dream fanfic, but it is so expansive and detailed that I would love to collaborate with someone else on it... and I don't dare put the idea here lest it get stolen... so... yeah...

SO, these are all my Tom Sturridge characters and fanfic thoughts... it's a lot, sorry... lolz

Please someone write more than just Dream, Jake and Nigel fics... Tom's other characters deserve love too.

31 notes · View notes

dullard · 18 days

Note

Im sorry.

1, 2, 8, 9, 10, 12, 15, 18, 21, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 36, 38, 39, 42, 43, 44, 49

This is for jurgencrepins I Checked

1. What motivates your character?

Joris: Idealism (often applied rigidly to himself as Not Doing Enough in his own mind, preemptively) and trying to Do Good. Whatever that happens to mean in the moment.

Kerubim: For a long time, it was proving himself through impressing others, but at this point its just that he wants to be comfortable and around his family. Which makes him seem kind of lazy now, lol.

Atcham: Used to be survival and revenge/obsession (sort of). Now it's the want to protect the people important to him.

2. How does the public view them? (Doesn't have to be anything major, it could be classmates, friends, strangers in the park, etc.)

Pre-waven:

Joris: Everyone assumes he is a small child. Every time. He's actually even pretty small to be a child. When he's in a political situation, he's slightly mysterious, and not to be underestimated (mostly because other political actors know hes old as balls)

Kerubim: Friendly and capable shopkeep. Knows something about everything. Most people in his community know him and its partially because of the extremely invasive ads he puts everywhere. Old cat man - If someone were actually interested in beating the crap out of an old man, he'd seem to be a fine target. People who know who he is are a lot more cautious though.

Atcham: I HATE THE WORLD OF TWELVE I HATE THE WORLD OF TWELVE I HATE THE WORLD OF TWELVE I HATE THE WORLD OF TWELVE I HATE THE WORLD OF TWELVE he looks different so people treat him with at the very least an arm's distance. No matter what he does people will think hes strange. That said, hes not helping his own case. I think some ecaflips assume he's sick though, if they haven't heard of or met a hairless ecaflip before, since losing your fur is something that happens if you're really ill or unwell.

Waven:

Joris: Similar to his political persona but now much more outward to the average citizen. He's also seen as extremely capable of decision making, at least within Bonta, thanks partially to propaganda. He is the firm hand of the law, fair and just, and a bit private.

Kerubim: He is the caring and wise elements of the current Bontarian government. Tends to be associated with public services like hospitals (imo in waven times bonta's Military Hospital is the closest we get, and eniripsas handle other things the way they used to, but the government funds some amount of clinic-esque action), schools, shelters, and the like. Reads books at the Bontarian orphanage. That kind of thing.

Atcham: That guy that hangs out with the other two guys. Nah I'm jk I think he's kind of. I can't describe this. He ensures success and prosperity of people who are working. If you run a business like a fruit stand or a clothes shop in waven-era bonta, you likely like him and hes the one that smooths out supply chains.

8. What are some internal obstacles that your character has to overcome?

Joris: Extremely critical of himself, self loathing for intangible thought crimes, self loathing for tangible realcrimes, self loathing for things out of his control at times, holding himself to absurd standards (often unreasonable), i could go on. I genuinely think he may be his own biggest obstacle to long-term happiness

Kerubim: His ego slash self loathing slash reliance on others for external approval and praise and love (these things are fine but hes got problems with not being able to provide these things to himself ever)

Atcham: Anger and the want to Hit Da Bricks (His instinct, when he gets angry in a way he can't resolve, is to leave a situation entirely)

9. What emotion does your character feel most frequently?

Joris: Depends what he's doing at the time since his daily activities vary greatly depending on the year. When hes doing his job though it's Deep Tiredness

Kerubim: Cozy :3 Also desperate need for approval

Atcham: Irritation/frustration as a form of Very Light Anger that doesnt bother him That Much.

10. If your character is an antagonist or something of the like, do they self-justify their actions? If so, how?

Joris: I am prioritizing Bonta. A leader that does not prioritize their own people is no leader at all. Other peoples leaders will prioritize them. The things I am doing must be done to ensure Bonta is prosperous, and once Bonta is totally prosperous we can extend those resources out to other places. But right now we need to be concerned with ourselves.

Kerubim: He just tends to try to make the people in his immediate vicinity as satisfied as possible and then reassures himself he tried his best. His focus on individual people makes political actions easier because he just has to benefit Them instead of thinking about people negatively affected.

Atcham: He actively avoids thinking about it. If Joris is talking about it he just sits there and nods but in his own head he'd rather avoid it entirely and focus on day-to-day doing good by people.

12. What are some of your character's pet peeves?

Joris: Ignoring the ones he thinks are just a normal thing to be irritated by regarding his dadson, calling him short, or little, or small, or cute, or young, or

Kerubim: People not listening to him when hes telling them something

Atcham: WHEN KERUBIM DOES THAT STUPID THING WHERE HE BENDS THE SWORD TO SEEM LIKE HE KNOWS WHAT HES TALKING ABOUT TO CUSTOMERS IT DAMAGES THE SWORD I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU STOP DOING IT!!!!!

15. What habits does your character have?

Joris: picks at his scales (scales are like pimples or hairs for him and sometimes little ones pop up on his face and upper chest and shoulders especially). Picks at his face where there arent scales. Hopping up on things to be a little taller. This is a broad question I'm not sure how to answer it. Being overly polite with everyone to keep distance.

Kerubim: Grooming i know we dont see it in the shows but i think he grooms himself when hes nervous if he has a moment and it helps him calm down a little and settle his thoughts. Also he clears his throat a lot.

Atcham: hunching slouching getting low to the ground moving on all fours. Sneaking. The Slippery Sneaker seems to Slink. Also he tenses his dominant shoulder when he thinks theres a threat and lowers his body close to the ground.

18. Who/what comforts your character?

(checks who sent the ask) dont ask questions you know the answer to. anyway its each other are you happy. Aside from that:

Joris: Crowds big enough that hes not notable at all (I think hes insane for this)

Kerubim: Items and objects and artifacts and mementoes

Atcham: A well defended area without major vulnerabilities. Can be a room in a house or a cat tree or anything.

21. What is your character's relationship with their emotions?

Joris: Hate those thangs. Kill them. Hate Them. If he could get rid of them he'd seriously consider it were it not for some of the warmer ones.

Kerubim: Some of them he's very happy with. Others he's accepted as part of life. Some more he sees as a moral failing he can't seem to get rid of.

Atcham: Shockingly in-tune (see: "When you have a life like mine, you need someone to blame" line in the movie). Actually pretty healthy approaches to them even if Joris and Kerubim dislike his Tendency To Leave For Unpredictable Periods Of Time. its his cope.

27. How does your character view themselves? (Expectations, intelligence, confidence, self-belief, etc.)

Joris: He tries his best, he doesn't do enough. He's a hero of sorts, he's a villain. He's accepted his body, he hates how people treat him because of it. He's smart, but he's stupid. He can do anything, he fails everything. Every thought has an equal but opposite thought.

Kerubim: A fraud, when it comes down to the wire. He does think he's very intelligent though, and he does have his unshakeable confidence that things will work out for him no matter what.

Atcham: He has fairly realistic ideas about his capabilities. His least reality-connected idea of himself is as Independent, and if he's reminded of a way he is Not, he gets strange in the head and leaves for a while. It's uncomfortable for him to think about that hes been kind of domesticated by circumstance when for a long time it was vital to his survival to be threatening and on-edge and prepared at all times.

28. What emotion is the most unfamiliar to your character and how do they deal with it?

Joris: Pride. He has a Recoil after a feeling of pride where he becomes kind of inward, at times. He's very old, though, so there are plenty of things he's rightfully prideful about (and he fights off the recoil consciously)

Kerubim: Emotional security. Relishes in it when he feels it without any other feelings to hinder it.

Atcham: Shame. Beats it down with a stick. Reminds him too much of being a little kid.

29. What are the three things that your character values most?

Joris: Family, independence, the respect of others

Kerubim: Family, memories, good craftsmanship

Atcham: Loved ones, his ability to protect himself and others, a well-forged sword

30. Is your character hiding something from other people, if so, what?

Joris: He thinks he hides everything, and he kind of does because he's very quiet and tries not to divulge information unnecessarily. He ALSO thinks hes not Good at hiding things and that others must see him as an open book and a fool, which is not very true.

Kerubim: There's so much to say, it's not hiding it until they ask very directly and you LIE (read: actively opposite information. Twisting or exaggerating is not a lie to him) about it. Omitting information and avoiding clear answers is king.

Atcham: Simultaneously he doesn't hide much (personality wise) and also he hides everything (physical items). I think he feels more secure with things if they have a hiding place. This makes his room impossible to clean, and yet it is in its own organization.

31. What genre of music does/would your character love?

Ask my good friend Ronik they have better thoughts on this than I would.

32. How does your character view their past?

Joris: It's Things That Have Happened. History. There's fondness there, but he's not as concerned with it as he is with the present.

Kerubim: It's everything. He holds onto the past with a death grip and drags it behind him.

Atcham: Prefers to avoid it. Not particularly interested in holding onto it more than necessary.

33. What are three positive traits that your character has?

Joris: Considerate of others and the consequences of actions, selfless, wants to Do Good (this one is mutated into something arguably negative after 600+ years)

Kerubim: Kind, wise, good at bluffing until luck takes over

Atcham: Cautious, selfless, knows when a battle is lost and its time to hit da bricks

34. What are three negative traits that your character has?

Joris: Impulsive, overly critical hater mindset including to himself, does not know when to quit

Kerubim: Lies to make himself look better, assumes things will work themselves out and doesn't do anything about them, can't take criticism

Atcham: Hater, doesn't value his own life enough when his loved ones are in the picture, leaves situations that Could Probably Be Resolved (and when I say leaves I mean hes gone for like months or more)

36. What are the things that make your character enter a full rage/cold mode? (Depends on their character.)

Joris: Someone knowingly endangering others will do it as good as anything will, especially others who trust you.

Kerubim: Hurting groups he considers vulnerable like children and orphans, or hurting his family

Atcham: He's tricky because he's actually extremely in control of himself, especially in a battle situation, but he Will get a little less cautious in a battle if you piss him off by insulting him or his family. INJURING his family actually makes him more cautious because he starts looking for a way out.

38. Someone your character dislikes goes up to them and confesses. How does your character react? (Doesn't have to be a rejection.)

This is the kind of question that I think you would be better at answering than me, Ronik. I really don't know actually. Someone Should Send You This Question, Among Other Questions, In Your Askbox Yesterday

39. What does your character have yet to realize about themselves?

Joris: Your self loathing and overly-critical approach to your own thoughts is hurting you, not ensuring that you don't become worse. (until waven era. Then his cope of managing to get past those things is making him worse but he's still hurting himself with them lol)

Kerubim: You don't need the approval of others to survive.

Atcham: You are a good person.

42. What is one thing that your character dislikes about themselves? ("Nothing" is also a valid answer.)

Joris: His whole self. There is a Him deep inside him that is Bad that he cannot root out. He's selfish (for things everyone thinks), he's cowardly (for things everyone fears), he's possessive (for things many people might be jealous about in the same situation), etc. etc. etc.

Kerubim: His whole self. He's a fraud and for some reason he can't just be happy. Something wrong with him (moral failing).

Atcham: His reliance on others.

43. What does your character see as the greatest injustice?

Joris (pre-waven): That people can do the best they can with what they have and still be ravaged by war and inequality that they had no hand in the creation of

Joris (waven): THAT OUR BEAUTIFUL NATION IS NOT THRIVING AS IT SHOULD!!!! We did everything right except the things we didn't (I took those moral L's, personally, for the people of Bonta. The people are not culpable for those decisions), why are there still hardships for the people?

Kerubim: That some vulnerable people do not have a protector

Atcham: That people get by with what little they have and still are at the whims of those more powerful who have everything

44. What does your character fear?

Joris: Being in the wrong, being seen as a fool, also a lot of things

Kerubim: Being alone

Atcham: Being fully reliant on others (because then, what happens when you lose them? You can't go back to the way things were before)

49. In the end, what is your character grateful for?

Joris: Kerubim and Atcham. Luis. The little things (boufbowl, sunlight, etc). Spiked coffee. Also OUR BEAUTIFUL NATION'S PROSPERITY.

Kerubim: Joris and Atcham. Luis. Lou. Everyone he's ever known, even the ones that hurt him.

Atcham: Kerubim and Joris. Security in food and home. Quiet. His own strength.

That was fun :) thanks for sending themmm

#posts #idk what to tag this as i dont want to spam a tag.

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mutantthedark · 2 months

Text

Caught red-handed

Warnings: Cheating, angst, hurt no comfort, swearing. Enjoy reading! Or not... ---- The morning felt like yesterday. The morning sky is clear with no clouds, but the wind is brushing the leaves who is hanging on the breaches gently.

It's spring season, the weather is getting warmer, thank god Halia didn't have to wear a coat again. Walking to school in snow was a waste of time for her and it frustrated her so much.

A few students walking towards the school, some of them are going to the canteen to eat breakfast. A chatter filled in the hallway into Halia's ears as she closes her locker while she's carrying a backpack on her shoulders. She walking through the other students and sees her best friend, Michelle, who is southeast asian descent. Halia gives a small wave and smiles. "Hey."

"Hey, good morning!" Michelle hugs her gently and releases her. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just didn't sleep well, had to finish all my school work after leaving the driving test." Halia sighs and rubs her eyes.

"How did it go?"

"I failed, again."

"Seriously?! You failed 2 times now? What did you do now?" Michelle's eyes widens, Halia motions to Michelle to walk beside her slowly.

"The driving instructor insulted me that I didn't cleaned the windows, and even in the back of the car!"

"That sucks... It's certainly not easy." Michelle mutters.

"Of course it isn't... it's so much going on right now." Halia looks around the hallway and raises her eyebrow. "Have you seen Noah?"

"No, but I'm guessing he's running late?"

"Probably..." Halia checks the clock who's hanging on the wall, she still has 6 minutes to hang out. "His dad is always driving him to school, maybe his car broke-"

But Halia got cut off by the 'ding' sound and she pulls out her phone, message from Noah. She opens the message and reads it carefully.

Noah: "Hey, I'll be late to class, the traffic is really terrible, tell the teacher, yea?" 8:25 am.

Halia's eyebrows raises and types the message back, her fast fingers are typing the keyboard.

Halia: "No problem, don't worry about it!" 8:25 am.

"He texted the traffic is terrible." Halia tilts her head and gives almost a smug face to Michelle.

"Oh, no shit, sherlock. People are always driving to work. Uh... We have Spanish class, right?" Michelle rubs her forehead gently, brushing her black curtain bangs away.

"Yeah, we do." Halia puts her phone back to her pocket as she continues to walk with Michelle. She groans in annoyance.

"God, I hate this class! Everytime the teacher asks me to read, I struggle with words. Also, we have a test today and I don't know anything!" Michelle fake-sobs, leaning her forehead on Halia's shoulder.

"Hey, chill out, you're barely passing. What, you get C's? Good thing not a C-" Halia grins, she's clearly teasing Michelle. She looks at Halia annoyingly, still slowly walking to Spanish class slowly while Michelle's arm is resting on Halia's shoulder.

"Yippie, yeah. Or else my mom will kill me, my dad always gets grumpy." Michelle pouts.

"Hey, I'm always helping you, you know? Besides, I learned Spanish when I was 13 years old."

"You're a lifesaver! I'm glad I have a wonderful friend like you!" Michelle raises her arm, similar doing a victory pose. Halia rolls her eyes playfully and they walk into a Spanish class.

The other students are already in their seats, the bell rings as Halia and Michelle sat down in their seats, taking out the book, notebooks and pens out of their backpacks.

The Spanish teacher closes the door behind her and walks to her desk to put her stuff down.

"Okay, students! As you may all know, we have a test today. So, I'm giving you..." The teacher looks at her wrist watch. "A five minutes to revise everything what we learned and wrote down everything we should have."

Halia raises her hand. "Ms. Green?"

Ms. Green walk to Halia to listen what she has to say. "Is it okay for Noah to take the test in another day? Because he's going to be late."

"Uh..." She thinks for a moment, then looks at Halia. "I'll talk to him when he gets here, but thank you for informing me." A smile preads on her face as she brushes Halia's shoulder gently, she walks to the desk to take out the test papers.

Halia sighs quietly and opens the notebook to check everything what she had to write from the board. Surprisingly, her hand writing is clean, the highlights are marked with light yellow color to memorise everything. Although she's really good in talking Spanish, only that languages what her aunt taught her the most.

-----

Of course, Noah ran late to Spanish class in the middle of the test, but luckily he'll take it next time. Good thing the teacher is one of the kind, if not, he wouldn't passed the class. After 4th period, it's lunch time, the three of them are sitting on the bench outside, the sun of the warmth are hitting their skins.

"Man... this day is more harder than I thought." Michelle sighs softly, looking up at the clear sky.

"Tell me about it. For me, Thursdays are the hardest days for me." Halia blinks a few time, looking at the school's surroundings. Noah, in other hand, his arm is wrapped around Halia's shoulder, she looks at him.

"Wanna hang out after school?" Halia asks, bouching her leg lightly.

Noah sighs. "I can't, sorry. I have a practice today."

"Oh, my bad. You're a quarterback. Sometimes I lose a track of time." Halia rubs her temples softly.

"I honestly can't hang out too, I have a gymnastics." Michelle answers, rocking her feet back and forth gently.

"Right, Thursdays are the worst..." Halia groans lightly. She hates these days.

Every.damn.time.

Although when she met Noah, things are getting little easier for her. Of course, they argued a bit, but not too much by considering things. 8 months of relationship... Wow, time flies really fast.

Noah is seriously has a good taste by finding a good places for Halia to hang out. She's lucky she's with him.

...Maybe not anymore...

By the time Halia is always in his case, asking where he been or something, he always act nervous. No wonder what he's hiding, maybe it's Halia imagination and throws that thing away.

-----

It's been a few hours and classes are over, Halia is already exhausted as she's packing her math book in her backpack. She's the last one who leaves the classroom.

Halia is walking in the hallway and spots a History teacher, Mr. Smith who's carrying books.

"Do you need help with that?" Halia asks as she approaches him. He nods.

"Yeah, could you bring them to my classroom? I have to get more from the library."

Halia nods and takes them to bring to the History class. So much for after school hours, he has no one to hang out with, she'll probably spend her day alone at home to do something useful.

Noah promised her they'll go to restaurant to get Japanese food after he kissed her forehead. Boyfriends... they do so much.

Halia tiredly and slowly reached the History classroom and puts the books on the table. When she was about to leave, she hears muffed voices in another classroom, Halia raises her eyebrow curiously and follows the sound of the voice.

The voices are coming from the English class.

The door is slightly open, Halia peeks through the gap and looks at it. There is Ryan with... another girl? Who appears to be talking, so she decides to listen.

"Really? You shouldn't have." The girl giggles and looks at him lovingly with those green eyes of her.

"It's no problem, Ashley." Noah rubs his neck. "A few days back it was amazing."

"Same, the date was fantastic!" She smiles.

Halia's eyes widens in sight as she keeps listening quietly. Date?! Did she heard that right?! That cheating bastard--

"Although I promised Halia to get the Japanese food tommorow, I'll lie to her again to hang out with you more." Noah smirks. Ashley rolls her eyes.

"Ugh, you're still with that intelligent-freak? No wonder why she's always in your case."

"Yeah, she sometimes acts like a bitch and I don't like her, I don't even love her anymore." Noah chuckles darkly and he grins.

Halia feels her heart shatters in thousand pieces. Why would Noah say this?! Obviously he's a fucking liar.

Saying he has a Rugby practice, obviously he's a quarterback on Thursdays but he's hanging out with another girl! Halia now doesn't reconize herself anymore... it feels her blood is boiling.

"Guess I'll see you later." Ashley smiles, rubbing her forearm shyly.

"Yeah..." Noah gently takes her chin and leans in closer to her, Ashley slowly closed her eyes, they were about to kiss... Halia's brain signals to burst inside immediately, she had enough listening. Halia slams the door open and glares at them.

They flintched and Noah turns around, his eyes widens as he sees Halia... all angry. "H-Halia! W-what--"

"I should ask you the same! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Halia bursts out as her eye twitches.

"I-I uh... W-we were just talking...! I swear! Come on... yeah." Noah nervously laughs, Ashley glances both at them and rushes out of the classroom to leave them arguing, seems like they're going to kill each other.

Halia crosses her arms, holding back her tears inside her. "So this is you've been doing huh?"

Noah sighs and rubs his neck nervously, trying to act innocent. "Halie, love--"

"Don't "love" me!" Halia gets closer to him and puts her finger to his chest. "You lied to me, how could you?! I did everything for you and this is how you repay me?!"

Noah blinks and rolls his eyes annoyingly, busy with "practice", he knew he was caught red-handed by her.

But this relationship never meant anything. Just some texting and saying "I love you"'s over and over. Then she starts to wonder: how many times he has been with her? Her heart was hurting like crazy, stabbing her countless times like with a knife. Noah looks at her and sighs softly, she is about to stroke her hair, but she slapped it away.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Halia hisses.

"WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST LISTEN?!--"

"NO!"

Her voice echoes around the English classroom, even in the hallway. Rage, a pure rage. She doesn't even want to hear his excuses and lying in front of her face.

"How many months have you been with her?"

"Halia-"

"How.many?" Halia's voice cracks, tears starts to fall down her cheek. Noah closes her eyes and keeps silent, keeping his mouth shut, trying not to let out of breath of annoyance.

"2 months."

2 months... 2 fucking months... God, it feels like 2 whole fucking years. Noah was never good hiding his act and emotions, but he tries to keep his cool.

"So this is why you've been acting weird for the past few weeks... Who are you?! You've changed--"

"So what?! People fucking change right?? If you think crying like this will help you to get back at me, you're a fucking idiot."

No. He didn't mean that.

Did he really?

He never cared, he didn't loved her.

"I don't need you..." Noah mutters, turning his head away. "Not anymore."

All those times, those 2 months he cheated... he lied behind her back time to time. Hell, Halia's brain goes on fire right now, and just like that her world broke.

Noah walks to the door and stops for a moment, he looks over his shoulder to look at Halia who is still frozen in shock. He wanted to say something, nothing came out, no words, only silence between them.

With that, he leaves the classroom, leaving Halia completely alone. Halia clenches her fists and punches the wall while she screams in frustration. His words rang inside Halia's head, she starts to sob hardly and tears fall down her cheeks, then pain hits her more.

Even though love is cruel by cheating... and a waste of time.

#call of duty #cod oc #call of duty oc #halia sigma connors #oc #original character #original characters #high school days #writing #angst #tw angst #tw swearing #hurt no comfort

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