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aloneinthehellfire · 4 months

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Chapter Seven: We Are The Pariahs

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: vecna's curse, mentions of death, mentions of homophobia, bad father-daughter relationship (story of my life)

[A/N: omg she made it out of her writers block era!!!! I am so so sorry for the long wait on this chapter, I had planned to write it ages ago but felt myself losing part of my creativity (it's a very long story about the trials and tribulations of an arts uni student) but I am trying to make it up to you all by bringing you the most packed chapter yet! And totally not because I was rushing to get to write my favourite part of the series, okay bye]

We Are The Pariahs

You never thought you’d see this room again.

Soft pink walls, almost entirely covered in movie posters and band memorabilia, a fluffy carpet that felt like home beneath your feet. But it wasn’t the room that made your heart beat faster. It was the girl sat on the bed, mascara tears coating her cheeks.

“Heather?” Your voice was small, scared to spook her.

“Y/n? Is that you?”

Her broken voice almost made you run to her, swoop her in your arms, tell her everything was fine.

No, she isn’t real. Y/n… none of this is real.

You were supposed to be stood in the Upside Down, searching for a way out. You had been calling out for Dustin, you saw… you saw something. What did you see?

“Why weren’t you there?”

Heather’s eyes turn dark, her voice dropping to an abnormal pitch. A jolt of fear from your chest settles into a pit of despair in your stomach.

Vecna. You had seen Vecna.

“You… you could have saved me…” Heather’s cheeks were wet with tears, her mascara slithering down her face likes vines. “You weren’t there.”

No mater how hard you tried, no words escaped the lump in your throat. After all, was anything you could say going to stop Vecna?

“I will always hate you for what you did.”

A sob breaks free from your lips, and a smirk etches onto her face, a face slowly peeling away until all that was left was a red and raw face of horror.

“You never let yourself trust your own gut,” Vecna stands from Heather’s bed, creeping closer as you press yourself further into the wall, “Y/n… always the follower…”

“What do you want?” You manage to whisper, turning your face away as his claws begin to rise above you.

“I am giving you one last chance to finally save someone,” He spits, milky white eyes examining yours, “I want you to warn them all, show them…”

His rotten breath fans against your face and you cry, feeling your head tilt back under his control. He leans impossibly closer, seething venomous words into your ear.

“Tell Eleven… or your soul will be next.”

A silent scream leaves you paralysed, eyes wide as something hot pierces your mind.

Flashing images, displays of terror and destruction. You saw your friends, your family, all burning. Hawkins was crumbling, a giant monster with a gaping mouth breaching through the gates. Chaos flew in wisps of ash and fire until there was nothing but total and complete darkness.

“Tell them…”

“Where is it?!”

Robin could hear Steve and Nancy upstairs rummaging through her bedroom drawers for a hope of a Walkman or even that stupid music box, anything. The longer they took, the paler Robin felt. She was stood in front of you, yelling into your ears, trying to shake you awake from your deathly still posture.

“It’s not gonna work!” Eddie stresses behind her for the millionth time, a higher level of panic detected in his voice with each announcement. “Chrissy didn’t- oh my god, she’s gonna end up like Chrissy. My best friend is gonna-”

“Eddie!” Robin snaps at him, his eyes widening in shock. “We are all fucking terrified right now but I need you to get a grip! STEVE! WHERE’S THE MUSIC?!”

“WE’RE WORKING ON IT!” He yells back, matching her own panicked tone, and Robin could almost throw up.

She knew exactly what was going to happen the moment she saw your face drop, the strike of fear on your features as you stared into your reflection. She already anticipated your shoulders to drop and your eyes to roll back. She just didn’t make it to you in time.

“Please, please, please.” Robin begs you, her throat tightening with every flutter of your eyelids.

A choked gasp shouldn’t have been the sweetest sound Robin thinks she’ll ever hear, but once it escaped your lips, relief washes over her like the tide.

You stumble forward and she only just manages to catch you, Eddie already lunging across the room to help. They both lower you to the floor, allow you to sit as you try and catch your breath.

“You’re okay. You’re okay, we got you.” Eddie kept saying, your wild eyes darting around the room like you were afraid of the shadows, clinging onto his arm.

And Robin just sat there, staring at you, trapped in her own fear of the torment she shouldn’t have been feeling. It felt even worse knowing she had anticipated it all.

“What happened?” She finally asks when your breathing is steadier, watching as a pained expression is woven into your features before disappearing in a flash, shaking your head.

“He… he was warning me. Us. Told us to stop.” You nod feverishly, enough to spark curiosity.

But before Robin could question any further, two sets of footsteps come barrelling down the staircase.

“We got it! We got it- it’s right here!” Steve stumbles over his own words, panting for breath as he holds a Walkman in his hand, presenting it to the ceiling like a trophy. Robin blinks.

“You’re only like 5 minutes late.” She rolls her eyes and Steve looks exasperated, a sigh of relief exhaling from his lungs when he notices you sat there.

“Oh, thank god.” He runs a hand through his hair, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find any music.”

“You couldn’t-” Robin frowns, shaking her head at him. “Then what the hell were we meant to do with that thing?”

“Improvise?” Steve offers and Nancy clears her throat.

“Sorry.” She surrenders, looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, attempting a smile but it didn’t settle right on your lips. “Just… just another threat.”

And with yet another lie, they all seemed satisfied enough to continue their mission; contact Dustin. To which they were successful, using light as communication that you usually would find yourself fascinated with. But the entire time you sat there as the others smiled, you couldn’t block out his voice.

“Tell Eleven… or your soul will be next.”

“You and Wayne really aren’t keeping up on the housecleaning.” You comment, and Robin lets out a snort behind you.

Eddie’s trailer was much like the rest of the eerily familiar homes in the Upside Down; dark and filthy. Vines were pretty much scattered across the furniture, almost swallowing the trailer itself whole. But that wasn’t the concerning part.

If you had to pick just one thing to be scared of, it would be the gaping hole in the ceiling.

“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie says, gulping as you all stared at the thrumming crimson light. “Like, right where she died.”

And just like that, you were now even more terrified.

“Could this day get worse?” You mutter, and you wish you had kept your mouth shut.

“I think there’s something in there.” Robin announces and you all squint upwards, taken aback by a shadow moving against the membrane.

A few slow seconds ticked by, and you wondered if it was just a trick of the light.

Something suddenly pierces through, pieces of the small gate splattering to the ground and you all leap backwards, heart hammering in your ears.

Steve moves first, cautiously peering up before a smile starts to stretch his cheeks. Curious, everyone else follows suit, and you’ve never felt so relieved in your life.

“Hi there.” Dustin laughs in glee as Max, Lucas, and Erica, all wave up to you.

The first face you see as you grin is Robin’s, meeting her hopeful eyes and happy smile with those of your own. In the moment, you reach out your hand as squeeze hers without thinking. You didn’t even notice her grip your hand tighter. You also didn’t remember letting go. Because you never did.

“Holy shit, this is trippy.” Robin laughs, and you can only nod in agreement, looking through the gate as if you truly were Upside Down.

“Bada-bada-boom!” Dustin yells, and you all instinctively laugh.

In a hushed mutter of agreements, the kids start to build the exit plan, dispersing across the trailer. Robin gently tugs on your hand and you look at her inquisitively, her head motioning for you both to step to the side.

“What’s up?” You whisper, unsure of why she wanted to talk in private. If anything, you could only hope why she wanted to talk privately, but that was wishful thinking considering you both barely knew eachother and it probably wouldn’t work because who knows if she’s-

“Did you… did you see something?” She asks and you frown. “Earlier. When Vecna… is there something you’re not telling us?”

“No.” Your response was too quick and her face drops into a serious tone, her hand slipping away from yours and you’ve never thought your hand could feel heavier without the weight. “Robin-”

“You can’t keep secrets, Y/n.” She says and you shut your mouth. “There’s already been so much-”

She takes a breath, eyeing the others as they all appear to be fixated on the events above them.

“You went to the Creel House and never told us about it.” She reminds you, a soft frown marking two small lines between her brows. “You heard Vecna, and you didn’t think that would be important to know. And now you’re having these visions and you’re not telling us the whole story with that, either. Why?”

“It’s…” You begin, but your shoulders slump with exhaustion. She was right. Why are you trying everything to hide it? “He showed me something. Something horrible. About our future, Hawkins. He threatened me, but I- I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think terrifying everyone else was going to get us anywhere.”

“What did you see?”

“Monsters. Gates.” You gulp, the next word barely audible. “Death.”

“Shit.” Robin blinks, tightening her lips. “Yeah, that’s… that’s pretty terrifying.”

“We need to focus on Max.” You say, glancing over your shoulder to where they were testing out a rope. “We can’t… we can’t help her, or anyone else for that matter, if we’re too focused on the bad ending. And from what I saw…”

“What?” Robin frowns when you don’t speak.

“I don’t think it’s something we can fight.” You admit just as Steve yells out for you both.

“Come on, operation get the hell out of here is commencing. Move it.”

Steve guides Robin by her shoulder, making her frown in confusion. He points to the rope.

“What do you want me to do with that?”

“Climb it.” Steve says, like it was obvious.

“Seriously?” She cranes her neck to look up at it, an encouraging thumbs up from Dustin on the other side. She looks around to see no-one else is volunteering. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

She manages to catch your eye before reaching for the rope, unspoken words floating between you both as she focuses on her climb, ignoring the burn on her palms as she mustered up enough strength to reach the top.

The strangest feeling washes over her as her head passes through the gate, blood rushing to her face. She was upside down now, holding onto the rope.

And then she was falling, landing on a mattress with a soft thump, staring up at the ceiling of familiar faces.

“That was fun.” She announces as she accepts Dustin’s hand, pulling herself to her feet.

“Who’s next?” Nancy asks, and after that, everyone started to make their way to the other side.

Eddie landed first, grinning at everyone with a casual “That was fun.”

You passed through the gate next, smiling at Robin as she offers her hand and ignoring the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you stared back up at the gate, waiting.

Nancy readies herself on the rope, obviously affected by Steve’s nature to always be the last.

She didn’t climb.

“Nancy?” You’re the first to speak, stepping on top of the mattress to get a better look.

And then Steve was trying to shake her awake while the others searched in panic for music she would listen to. But you didn’t move.

You refused Vecna’s threat, and all of a sudden Nancy was now cursed? It didn’t feel like a coincidence.

It felt like your fault.

Nancy had snapped awake after a painfully chaotic chorus of panic, her wide eyes of horror speaking more to you than it would anyone else. You were relieved to know she wasn’t cursed, just another messenger for the dark wizard. You were in fear of knowing Vecna didn’t tolerate insubordination.

The things she had told everyone made Robin feel too sober, her back resting against a cabinet on the floor while they had all sat in silence, Nancy’s voice thick with tears.

Vecna wanted revenge, and that meant Hawkins was on his kill-list.

Robin couldn’t help glancing your way when Nancy started describing the details of your own vision, but your eyes were fixated on the carpet. She hadn’t known you for long, but she didn’t think you were ever this quiet.

“Four chimes.” Max suddenly says, cutting through the tense air. “Vecna’s clock. It always chimes four times. Four exactly.”

“I heard them too.” Nancy agrees shakily.

“He’s been telling us his plan this whole time.” Max realises, and Robin feels very sick.

“Four kills.” Lucas understands. “Four gates... End of the world.”

“If that’s true…” Dustin speaks, looking at Max, “He’s only one kill away.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Eddie mutters, rubbing his face, “Jesus Christ.”

“Try ‘em again.” Steve orders to no one in particular, pointing to the phone, “Try them again.”

Max nods and grabs the receiver to dial the number they had been trying for the past few minutes. You had hoped the Byers would be able to help, that El would come back and help you win this. But no one ever answered.

“What do we do now?”

Your voice was a surprise to everyone having been the only person unable to share your own input to Nancy’s visions. Your throat felt hoarse, and there was a pounding headache forming behind your eyes. It was all starting to feel hopeless.

“We’re going back to the Upside Down and we’re killing Vecna.” Nancy announces and Robin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Hold on, wait, let’s think this through.” Steve objects, standing from the couch.

“What is there to think through?” She countered, crossing her arms.

“We barely made it out of there in one piece!” Steve stresses and you watch as they argue, unsure of who’s side to take.

“Because we weren’t prepared!” Nancy replies. “But this time, we will be. We’ll get weapons and protection. We’ll go through the gate, we’ll find his lair, and we’ll kill him.”

“Or he’ll kill us.” Steve says and across the room, Robin raises her eyebrows at you. “The only reason you survived is because he wanted you to. He’s not scared of us.”

“And for good reason.” Robin interrupts, standing up and clearing her throat, “We were wrong about Vecna. Henry. One. Sorry, what are we calling him now?”

“One.”

“Vecna.”

“Henry.”

“Right.” Robin breathes out, continuing. “We’ve learned something new about Vecna/Henry/One. He’s a number like Eleven, only a sick, evil, male, child-murdering version of her with really bad skin.”

“Ew.” Erica turns up her nose.

“But, my-my… my point is, he’s super powerful. He could turn us inside out with a snap of his fingers. It’s not a fair fight.”

“Then why fight fair?” Dustin intercepts and you turn around to look at him. “You’re right. He’s like Eleven. But that gives us an upper hand. We know Eleven’s strengths. And weaknesses.”

“What weaknesses?” You question with little effort, and Robin can’t help but feel a little upset at how hopeless you sound.

“When El remote-travels, she goes into this sort of trance-like state. I bet the same is true of Vecna.” Dustin explains.

“That would explain what he was doing in that attic.” Lucas comments.

“Exactly.” Dustin nods. “When he attacks his next victim, I’ll bet you he’s back in that attic, physical body defenceless.”

“Defenceless?” Steve raises his brows, gesturing to his bruised neck. “What about the army of bats?”

“True. We’ll have to find a way past them.” Dustin accepts, “Distract them somehow.”

“And, uh,” Eddie leans forward, “How do we do that exactly?”

“No idea. But once they’re gone, he doesn’t stand a chance.” He smiles, “It’ll be like slaying sleeping Dracula in his coffin.”

“That all sound good in theory, but there is no pattern to Vecna’s killings. I mean, at least not one that I can decipher.” Robin says, “We don’t know when he’s going to attack next. We don’t even know who he’s going to attack.”

“Yeah, we do.” Max speaks up and your stomach drops. “I can still feel him. I’m still marked. Cursed. I ditch Kate Bush, I draw his focus back to me.”

“What?” Your head whips up, frowning.

“Max. You can’t. He’ll kill you.” Lucas whispers out and she shrugs.

“I survived before.” She reminds him and Lucas frowns. “I can survive again.”

“How?” Robin observes the way you stare up at Max with a look of remorse. You really cared about these kids, about her. It’s why you were here in the first place. You could have flown back to Stanford, but you chose to stay.

Which is why the thought of Max sacrificing herself after all of this felt so absurd.

“I just need to keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic.” She says, slowly nodding. “Then you can chop his head off. Stab him in the heart. Or blow him up with some explosive Dustin cooks up, I honestly- I don’t care how you put this asshole in his grave, just… whatever it is… whatever you do… try not to miss.”

It sounded like her closing statement, an invisible signed document of her stubbornness. Nothing you could say would change her mind, and you knew she was right. This was the only way.

“Now all we need is a shit ton of weapons.” You sigh, spreading your hands in exasperation.

“Where the hell are we gonna get that?” Steve frowns, exchanging a look with Robin. “Doubt Officer Friendly is gonna let us raid the station.”

“No need.” Eddie suddenly stands, stretching his arms. “I know exactly where we can find them.”

Everyone frowns, some in confusion, some in concern. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t say War Zo-” You start, but Eddie doesn’t let you finish.

“War Zone!”

War Zone was pretty much how you assumed a store named that would look. It was a giant warehouse filled with aisles and aisles of anything you could possibly get your hands on. Guns, ammo, grenades, knives. All you could ever need for battle.

It was just a shame the only two excited for this trip had to be hidden from the public. You thought it was ironic that you were trying to avoid suspicion just after stealing a whole Winnebago.

“Hey!” Dustin protests as Steve sits him back down at the table, shaking his head.

“Sorry, man. It’s too risky.” He explains, but the curly-haired boy just pouts.

“Hellfire stays inside.” Nancy announces and despite Eddie’s look of disappointment, he didn’t kick up a fuss. He could look at guns another day, when there was no longer a price on his head.

“Okay, time for some… shopping.” Robin shrugs as Max jumps out of the RV behind you, slamming the door shut. “Are we, uh, looking for anything in particular?”

“Anything that looks like it’s gonna hurt.” You say, surprising the others. None of them object.

Swarms of mostly bulky men were walking down the aisles when you all entered, seemingly curious yet unbothered by your little group. You all definitely looked out of place.

“Uh… we should also probably look out for clothes.” You suggest, gesturing to Steve’s stark outfit. Your own was covered in black slime and dirt, much like Nancy and Robin’s.

“Good idea.” Steve says as he makes a beeline for the clothing department.

“I’m gonna head over to the guns. I’ve got an idea of what I want.” Nancy nods and Max takes Erica with her to the smaller section of knives and bug repellent.

“What do we think?” Robin asks with a lighter tone, posing with a beret on her head.

“You know what, it actually suits you.” You laugh and she flashes you a smile, throwing it into the shopping cart.

She begins to peruse the jewellery section next, making you chuckle in amusement as you spot Steve trying on a jacket further down.

It had been a while since either of you talked. After your vision in the Upside Down, you could tell he was walking on eggshells around you, much unlike your usual banter. Now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had an honest conversation with you.

“So, weird question, but, um… how are we meant to be paying for this?” You question as you walk over to him, a surprised look on his face as he glances over at Robin. She seemed to be preoccupied by the studded belt in her hands.

“I’ve still got my whole compensation fund from Starcourt we could-”

He stops once he says it. Starcourt. He saw how your face drops without permission, giving him a small glimpse of the sadness that wore away inside you.

“I, uh… we could use my savings money.” You offer, trying anything to pretend like your momentary lapse of weakness didn’t happen. “I mean, it was meant for books and stuff back at Stanford but I feel like this is a much more important use for it considering the whole end of the world scenario we’ve found ourselves in.”

You attempt a laugh, but it came out with too little volume, and all too much air. You try to redirect your attention to the vest in front of you. It looked like tough leather, hopefully thick enough to add some protection to your frame.

“Sorry I’ve been such an asshole.”

The battle vest almost slipped from your hands as you turn to catch Steve’s eye. His expression was serious, an apologetic look pointed at you.

“Huh?” You frown, unsure when this sudden turn of conversation started.

“I haven’t really been grateful. To have you here with us, I mean. You literally dropped your life just to help us, and I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you. High school was years ago.”

“If it helps, I have also been an asshole, so…” You laugh and you manage to spark a smile on his face. “And of course I’m here. You are, too. I’m not the only one risking everything.”

You didn’t expect a genuine smile from Steve Harrington to ever be sent your way, but you found yourself smiling back. In so few words, it was like a war had been resolved between you. A long time coming, at that.

You watch as his gaze drifts to behind you, his brows furrowing.

“Uh… I’ll be right back.”

You turn to see him jog over to Robin, placing a hand on her back. From this distance, you could just see her standing there with a fallen expression, staring at something further down the aisle. You take two steps back, curiously searching for the source of her uncharacteristic torment, but you can’t see past the couple laughing together.

The guy was quite tall, someone you think you recognise from school. Dan, was it? He was smiling down at a girl not much younger than you, wearing a grin and ginger hair.

It took a second for the realisation to hit, and by then Steve and Robin had wondered back over to you, quickly explaining you all needed to leave before you were suddenly rushing back to the Winnebago, left to sit for a little while longer with your thoughts.

Why was Robin so upset about a random couple in the middle of War Zone?

Robin hadn’t expected to see Vickie anywhere, let alone a stupid illegal gun shop on the outskirts of Hawkins. It definitely caught her off-guard, and since she watched what little hope she maybe had left of dating suddenly kiss a man, it also felt right. After all, she was a pariah. That was all she was going to be.

“I don’t care.” She interrupts Steve’s attempt to rationalise the prior events, rambling about the impossibility of Vickie not liking women too.“And I don’t understand why you do either with everything that’s going on. Honestly, this feels like a perfect time for that little pull of the rug because… in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”

A sigh leaves her lips just in time for her to catch a glance of you across the field. You were sat cross-legged on the grass, laughing as Eddie and Dustin play-fought with their new and improved battle shields. As she sat just outside the Winnebago, holding a funnel for the molotov cocktails they had ordered, she feels a smile tugging at her lips when she sees your grin, and then she shakes it away as fast as she can. Not fast enough for it to go unnoticed.

“Aren’t you always telling me about all the fish in the sea?” He smirks, waggling his eyebrows and she grimaces. She knows he’s only joking, trying to tease her a little bit. But he doesn’t realise it wasn’t a game to her.

“Ew, no, don’t be gross.”

“I just think you’d be perfect together-”

“Okay.” She quickly stands up, almost spilling the bottles. “I think we’re running out of alcohol. I’m gonna go find some more.”

“Why are you being weird?” He frowns as she starts walking away. “But- we have enough bottles here!”

You heard Steve’s shout across the field as Dustin starts making a joke about bats, turning your head to see Robin was quickly walking away from him and disappearing inside the Winnebago. You were twisting grass between your fingers, staring longingly at the trailer home door. You wanted to talk to her. You needed to.

Your legs moved before your brain could comprehend it, marching you across that field with determination. There was no more putting it off. You couldn’t spend your last moments before what could be the end of the world sat on the grass wondering what would have happened if you’d just had the courage to open up.

Robin managed to compose herself for a bit, running her hands down her face and catching a glimpse of herself on a small mirror. Her mascara had rubbed off a little around her eyes, her hair now dirty and wild from the whirlwind of their adventures. With a sigh, she grabs another box of bottles. She so badly wanted a shower. Or at least to just curl up in her bed and pretend like the world was going to be just fine if she fell asleep.

She knew any minute now Steve would come looking for her, demanding answers. He was right. She was acting weird. But how else were you meant to act when you were slowly coming to the realisation that you’d be alone forever? How could she pretend to be normal when she had to sit and watch everyone else fall in love when she couldn’t, or reconnect with their high school sweethearts while she mourned the feeling of never experiencing teenage love?

She wasn’t normal. Nothing in her life felt more real than that.

“Hey.” You suddenly announce yourself and Robin drops the box she was holding, cursing under her breath as she scrambles to collect it before she lost all composure. You wince. “Sorry.”

“No, you- it just-” Robin presses her lips together, sighing. “I didn’t expect to see anyone in here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” You grimace even harder, motioning to the door. “This was weird, I can go-”

“No!” She drops the box again, on the small table this time. “Uh… I mean, no. You don’t need to…”

There’s a moment of silence you really wished was comfortable, but even you couldn’t pretend it was anything other than awkward.

“Are you doing okay?” Robin blurts, unable to resist talking if it meant she didn’t have to stand there with her own thoughts for much longer. “With the whole, you know, being a Vecna prophet?”

“A prophet, huh?” You smirk, raising your eyebrow. “No, I’m, uh… I’m okay? I think. Just… god.”

You flop yourself down on the cushioned seats of the Winnebago, biting your lip.

“I should have done what he asked.” You admit, meeting her eyes as she slowly lowers herself to sit beside you. “Nancy is probably, I don’t know, traumatised now because I keep thinking making everything a secret is gonna solve everything. Like it ever has.”

“You were doing what you thought would protect us. That’s not a bad thing.” She shrugs, staring down at her hands. “You shouldn’t even have to be dealing with all of this in the first place.”

“No one would have guessed an evil mind wizard who lives in an alternate dimension would somehow use me to spread his villainous plans.” You chuckle, trying to find the humour in what had to be the scariest experience of your entire life.

“No.” She breathes an airy laugh, biting her lip. “But I made you come here.”

“What?” You looked taken-aback, blinking at her. “No, Robin… I’m here because I want to be.”

“But you hate Hawkins.” She says, twisting in the seat to face you so she could express herself with her hands more. “And I- I don’t blame you. You lost your father… you left for all good reasons. I shouldn’t have shown up at your door demanding help, it… I didn’t realise how badly it would affect you, or-”

“Robin.” You place a hand over hers and she stills, words cut from her mouth by a single touch. “I want to be here. What happened a year ago doesn’t define my actions now. It never did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t leave because my dad died.” Your voice had gotten quieter, and Robin watched as your eyes started to glisten. “I… I left because Heather did.”

Robin frowns. Heather? Nancy mentioned a Heather back in the library after your first encounter, stating the two of you had known eachother since sophmore year. It had only been a passing comment. Robin only remembered the Heather with a plaque at the school, a soul lost to ‘the fire’. Flayed, Robin realises.

“Heather… Heather Holloway?” Robin asks and you nod, wiping away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “Nancy told me you guys were friends.”

“Right. Friends.” You say almost bitterly, avoiding her eyes. Robin sends a quick glance to the door, making sure it was shut. She had a feeling this conversation wasn’t one you were going to be comfortable sharing with anyone else.

“Was Heather… was she more… more than a friend?” Robin’s mouth felt dry as she struggled with her words, hoping you didn’t return them with a laugh or disgust. And you didn’t. You only nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Back in the hospital, Starcourt… I had gone with Nancy and Jonathan to try and figure out what the hell was happening to Hawkins. Nancy told us it was related to Driscoll, that we had to hurry. I remember she wouldn’t tell me why she was so scared. But Jonathan let slip that they had been at Heather’s house…”

You take a deep breath, trying to relax your now tensing shoulders. “I kept asking them where Heather was, if they had seen her, if she was okay. I… I knew something was wrong. I hadn’t heard from her for a whole day, I even begged for their help when she went missing but they told me I was paranoid. But I was right in the end.”

“You were too late.” Robin whispers in realisation, and your glossy eyes find hers, nodding.

“Heather’s dad was at the hospital. So was mine.” You recall, twisting the corner of the cushion. “They were flayed, attacked us when we least expected it. My dad was telling me how Heather died, what they did. Right before he drove a knife into my shoulder.”

You gently push down the shoulder of your jumper to reveal a red scar, and Robin’s breath hitches.

“I don’t really remember much after that. Jonathan managed to get him off me. I think Nancy dragged me somewhere safe before a nurse found me.” You sigh, rolling your shoulder. “When I had woken up, my gran was the one to tell me about Starcourt, how my dad had died in the fire. And that Heather and her family had apparently burned in there too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Robin squeezes your hand, wiping away her own tears. She had wondered why Nancy and Steve seemed so hesitant about your story. Only now did she know it was because they couldn’t feel anything but guilt about how they treated you.

“Heather was my best friend, and more.” You smile before it broke, biting your lip, “I hated the thought of staying here. I was just so… angry. At the others. At myself. I had to leave.”

“I would have done the same.” Robin admits quietly. “To be honest… I don’t think I would have come back.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” You shrug, “But I needed to be here for my gran.”

“Does she…”

“Yeah. She knows about Heather and me.” You say, nodding. “I came out to my dad when I realised I liked Heather. He… he wasn’t happy about it. We fought a lot after that until my gran decided to take me in. She’s pretty great.”

“She sounds it.” Robin smiles.

“Being a girl into girls in a town like this…” You laugh, glancing out the window. “When I turned Steve down in sophmore year, I just remember the relentless torment from everyone around me. I didn’t even know I liked girls then, but I knew I was never going to say anything because if I refused a date with a guy and they all hated me for it, what would happen if I ended up dating a girl?”

“It was all so natural with Heather. She didn’t make me feel like a freak, or make me some kind of pariah. Because she understood me. And about a year after we became friends, after the whole Steve incident, we started dating.” You lean back into the seat, pouring your heart and soul to a girl you hoped you had met years ago. “Our dads worked together at the Post, and we had to keep it a secret. That’s why… that’s why everyone out there thought we were just friends. Because that’s what I told them.”

“No one out there would have judged you like that. Especially not Steve.” Robin insists and your face twists with uncertainty.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s my best friend.”

You knew that. You saw it anytime they bickered or teased one another. You saw it when Steve went rushing over to her the second he sensed her posture drop in War Zone, whispering reassuring words to her on the field after.

Part of you had assumed when you first saw them together that there was no way they couldn’t be dating. So many factors could be against why they weren’t. There was only one you were nervously hoping for.

“That girl… the one at War Zone. You looked really upset…” You bite your lip, heart beating harder. “Is that because…”

“I know exactly how you feel.” She meets your eyes and you almost melt, suppressing a smile.

“Is that why you started acting weird when you found out Eddie was my ex?” You ask and she frowns, obviously curious about that. “I dated him because I thought he was cool, and nice. We broke up because I realised I was gay.”

“Oh.” She laughs, feeling incredibly stupid. “God, I was so sure- I literally hate myself right now.”

“So… does that mean… if you liked that girl…” You struggle to find the words, scrambling your mind with endless possibilities to just ask the question.

“I like you.” Robin finally says in a whisper and you smile.

“I like you, too.”

Her eyes flicker to your lips for just a moment, until she catches something, a red trail starting to stain your upper lip.

It all came crashing down after that.

“Y/n?!”

Steve must have heard her screaming because when he comes rushing in, your eyes are already rolled back, Robin’s hands holding onto your shoulders.

You weren’t a prophet after all.

You were a warning.

Chapter Eight: Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls ->

taglist:

@kryztalglear @learninglinesintherainn @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer

@endurexxsurvive @em16cor @gray-cheese @chaosofmanyfandoms @kitdjarin1

@some-day--some-how @cultish-corner @marirxse

i try to keep up to date with taglists but if i have missed anyone or if you would like to be added please comment below or let me know via asks! [if i have highlighted your username in pink, it means tumblr isn't allowing me to tag you so please check visibility settings/ update me if you've changed usernames while i try my best to sort this out!]

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley #robin x reader #robin buckley fanfic #st4 fanfic #wlw #sapphic fic

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chubs-deuce · 7 months

Note

Hello!!! Love love LOVE your Charlastor and Hazbin artwork; your art is amazing!!

I have a feww questions if you’re comfortable with answering them (no worries if not) :D

I love hearing people’s music recommendations, so I was wondering if you listen to music whilst you draw and if there’s any songs in particular that make you think of the characters and/or the ship?

Also, I get a bit nervous posting about Charlastor because of some of the hate it gets in the fandom and because some of my irl classmates who follow me don’t like the ship (and don’t know I like it), so I was wondering what your general mindset is when you post your art online, but also what your mindset is like when posting Charlastor art, knowing what the fandom can be like?

Finallyy, I wanted to ask if you’ve read Under My Skin by whamagram on AO3 and if you have, what are your thoughts on it? It’s a mature slowburn Radiobelle fic and only has a few chapters out so far, but it’s updated pretty regularly and has become my new favourite at the moment! I highly highly recommend it because it’s super well-written, really witty, and really understands the characters. It’s all about Charlie nursing Alastor back to health after the final battle in season 1 and it’s just so well done!!

Again, just want to say that I really really love your work and thank you for sharing it! I especially love how you draw expressions and the way you draw characters and their emotions feels so real. Seeing your illustrations inspires me to keep practicing with my own art!

Omg thank you so much for this lovely ask?!!

I'd be more than happy to answer all of these actually! :D

I am, in fact, the kind of person who looooves finding songs that fit certain characters or ships and make whole playlists over time if I find enough of them, so here's some that made me think of Charlastor (links are all spotify):

- Glass Piano, by Kathleen

- Daisy Bell, and specifically this scuffed computer sung version bc it hits better

- bored like me, by dodie

- Ended with the Night, by Caravan Palace

- I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire, by The Ink Spots

- I Can't Decide, by Scissor Sisters

I have yet to really find more songs specific to the characters as individuals tho lol

----------

As for your next question...

This isn't my first rodeo in the unpopular non-canon het presenting ship club, so there's a few things I like to remind myself of when I feel that people pleaser anxiety sneaking up on me:

if people truly wanted to avoid content of the ship, they'd block the tags. Maybe kindly ask your friend to block the charlastor and radiobelle tags bc you want to post about them? This way they're not forced to see what they dislike and you get to have your harmless fun. If they're opposed to this, question why. It's not your job to curate *their* online experience, they do have all the necessary tools at their disposal.

I consider the source material like a toy box. You can play with the dolls in it like the packaging intended for you to, but there's no rules dictating that you can't play *your* way if that's more fun to you.

Canon is in my eyes the preferred suggestion, but not the law - don't we all just smush the heads of dolls together making kissy noises in our minds at the end of the day?

A lot of people sadly treat shipping like it's a battle for author validation, when in reality it was always just a way to playing with hypotheticals and exploring the world and characters canon offered us in new and interesting ways... I hate the attitude some people have about canonicity. Imo, as long as you're not acting like your non-canon ship should be canon and shit on other ships in the process, you're not doing any harm.

Now... Canon sexualities and having contrary headcanons are a tricky road to travel because there's so much emotional investment in the canon representation of often overlooked or mishandled minority groups, and this is the biggest anti argument I've seen get thrown around, since Charlastor as a ship not only splits up the canon lesbian pairing, but also alters Alastor's canon sexuality to make the ship work.

What's important here is that you handle it respectfully - i.e. don't be a dick and go around acting like your preferred ideas are better and should be canon or whatever. Attitude is important, respect canon for what it is and embrace the fact that your ship is not. It's not a detriment! It just means we have to make all of our own content lol.

I personally headcanon Alastor as demisexual/demiromantic not only because it still fits under the aspec umbrella, but also because I myself am both of those things and enjoy messing with the characters and narrative using a dynamic I have a lot of personal experience with! It's fun to hit someone as haughty and stubbornly emotionally detached as Alastor with a flurry of unexpected, unwanted feelings and struggling to navigate them.

Do I want that to be canon? Absolutely not! I'm just having fun with my imaginative toys in my own corner of the internet lol.

Also for the record, I think Chaggie is cute and they should absolutely stay together, I just don't find them interesting enough to explore further in the realm of fanfiction and art :'D

Ultimately I'm a strong believer of "I can post whatever I want forever", if anyone has an issue with it and the given tools at their disposal aren't enough to deal with it, they're free to unfollow and/or block me! I don't need anyone's approval to have harmless fun with my artistic and writing skills where I don't bother anyone, and that's imo always what should be at the core of creating just about anything.

----------

OH ALSO I KNOW THAT FIC AND IT'S SOO GOOODDDD I DROP EVERYTHING TO GO READ IT WHENEVER A NEW CHAPTER DROPS

I try my best to leave comments under it wherever I can too bc it genuinely scratches like every itch I have about this ship so well-

The comedy is on point, the dialogue feels so solidly in-character and the pacing and the overall concept just work perfectly!!

10/10 concur as a great recommendation lol

----------

QWQ again, thank you so much for taking the time to type out this lovely ask, I really do appreciate it and the compliments also absolutely made my day!!

I hope you keep having as much fun with this ship as I am, take care!! <3

#chubs answers #charlastor #radiobelle #long post

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skittlespizza · 8 months

Text

A SPACE ODYSSEY TUMBLR SIMULATOR

[FOR CONTEXT, the book mentions that the events of the Discovery have become a "classic" of sorts which implies there is a fandom in universe for the Discovery...]

🚀 davidbowmankinnie follow

Happy 100 years since the Discovery Mission!

🔴 hal10000 follow

can't believe it's been 100 years... it felt like just yesterday!

🎂 discovery-logs-outofcontext follow

rb with your favorite thing about the fandom. I'll go first. i found my best friend irl because I saw she was reading the Discovery Manuscript. She's a really big Hal fan and I love Sal a lot. We are hal & sal irl...

💾 heywoodslefttoe follow

i kin dated someone as frank/dave in middle school. It ended bad.

📼 chandradeservedbetter follow

LOL do you remember the Hal Plushie incident?

🪽 halleyscomet follow

The WHAT NOW?

🌐 halmanpoole-shipper follow

DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE HAL PLUSHIE.

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

I CANNOT STAND HAL APOLOGISTS IM SORRY 💀 HE LITERALLY KILLED FOUR PEOPLE.

🔦 kaminskyy follow

Ofc its a frankdave shipper. Your fucking username IS FRANK DAVE ANAL SEX.

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

Your fav has zero fucking lines in the book but ok 📸 ur literally a murderer apologist 😭😭

🔴 hal10000 follow

GOD shut up its not a book theyre real people. Hal also like?? Was going thru fucking psychosis but ok then... did you read the second mission??

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

You're a hal kinnie dni.

🧮 zeniiiia follow

Don't interact with op they've doxxed like seven people.

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

BLOCKED 🤣

📀 legendofthediscovery follow

Just updated my newest fic! It's a hal/dave/frank fic, has 15 chapters and is a post canon fix-it!

💡chandras-son follow

GODDD THE HAL/SAL/CHANDRA INTERACTION IN THE NEWEST CHAP IS SO CUTE... OP I AM DYINGGG

📀 legendofthediscovery follow

I AM A HUGE FAN OF YOUR ART... IM HAPPY YOU LIKE IT. YOU INSPIRED A LOT OF THE CHANDRA FAMILY MOMENTS 🩷

💡chandras-son follow

CAN WE BE MUTUALS

🔎 dave-bowwman follow

Happy anniversary to my bfs @frankk-pooole and @ hal-loween. Couldn't do it without you guys

📺 betty-to-her-helena follow

Omg you guys are relationship goals...

🔎 dave-bowwman follow

THANK YOU <3

🎞 helena-to-her-betty follow

we neeeed to do that double date sometime.

〽️ frankk-pooole follow

YESS!! hal would also love it. Hes next to me btw.

🧿 monolithic-loser follow

the monolith is SO UNDERRATED.

🥏 tanya-heywood follow

🤝 I FELT THAT MY FAV IS LITERALLY TANYA NO ONE KNOWS HER AND MY RAREPAIR IS TANYA/HEYWOOD

🦾 hetty follow

Mine is betty/helena... no one even KNOWS OF THEM. SAPPHIC SHIPS DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER??

📽 sal-amander follow

> My favorite is Sal. I wish people talked about her more.

🤖 discoverydotcom follow

Petition to make the fandom less weird about the women in the book...

🔴 hal10000 follow

IT ISNT A BOOK.

🪐 jupiterreal follow

my god... its full of stars... I THINK ABOUT THAT ENDING SO MUCH. FUCKKKKKKKKK.

💾 heywoodslefttoe follow

IN THE SEQUEL HE COMES BACK BUT LIKE AS A WEIRD GHOST...

🤖 discoverydotcom follow

goddd wanna hear my headcanon ?? I hc he saved hal and they're living together as ghosts.

🔴 hal10000 follow

Bro you're reaching so hard for that ending.

🤖 discoverydotcom follow

LET ME DREAAAAAM

☀️ apolloeleven follow

Transmasc!David Bowman is real and in this essay...

〽️ frankk-pooole follow

REAL... i know dave trust me.

🌐 halmanpoole-shipper follow

Frank and dave transmasc and agender hal is canon

🔦 kaminskyy follow

REALL. T4T4A or something

🦾 hetty follow

Looking at the Discovery RPF tag is SO FUNNY. It's halman porn, davefrank angst, chandra found family and THEN THE MOST SOUL CRUSHING HELENA/BETTY POST CANON FIC EVER... going sooo insane

🔴 hal10000 follow

Sorry we left your boyfriend in space... yea.. hes floating out there for eternity..

🔦 kaminskyy follow

Sometimes i wonder what the irl discovery crew & lenonov crew would think if they saw this.

🔴 hal10000 follow

They'd have a fucking heart attack.

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

LOL

🔴 hal10000 follow

Didnt you block me?

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

Im not a pussy it was a bit jfc

🔴 hal10000 follow

What did i do to you oh my god

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

Wanna make out

🔴 hal10000 follow

?????????

🎰 discovery-alerts follow

HEYWOOD KNOWS ABOUT THE HALFRANK FIC

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

HUH????

🤖 discoverydotcom follow

NO WHAT THE FUCK NOT THAT ONE???

📺 betty-to-her-helena follow

HOW DID HE FIND THAT?

DOES HE READ DISCOVERY RPF..... NOOOO????

🛸 tsiiiiiiiien follow

OUgh

🛸 tsien follow

SAME PROFILE PIC LOL

Also. WHAT GHE FUCK.

🪽 halleyscomet follow

Whats the halfrank fic?

☀️ apollotwelve follow

You sweet summer child...

#a space odyssey #aso #2001 a space odyssey #frank poole #hal 9000 #david bowman #dave bowman #heywood floyd #unreality

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redactedonyt · 1 month

Note

OMG YOU AND I BOTH HAVE AN OBJECT OC NAMED CANVAS!!!

My canvas is super calm and relaxed and overall very welcoming. I think you should draw our canvases interacting!!!

I tried to mix the styles a bit ^^

(Sorry it took a moment, art block has been rough)

#[r!] art #[r!] answer #thecookingobjective #osc #object show community #object shows #osc art #objectshow #object show comic #original object show comic #comic #osc meme #osc comic #osc community

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f3mme-f4tale · 8 months

Text

a brew of history

Part One

content warnings: modern au, no real warnings except explicit language word count: 1.3k additional tags: mutual pining, embarrassed ellie, barista!ellie, just fluff really, best friend jesse a/n: first ellie post omg hehe. i haven't written fanfiction in so long, so i apologize for how scattered this may seem. i'm (finally) graduating with my undergrad in april, so i'm hoping that i can dedicate some more of my free time into creative writing this year! lmk if any of y'all wanna be mutuals mwah

important info about palestine

prologue

You couldn't recall exactly when you started to look forward to your morning routine more than usual. Perhaps it was when the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans began to mingle with the scent of aged manuscripts and artifacts. Or maybe it was when you first noticed the cheerful smile of the barista across the street, Ellie, as she handed over the perfectly brewed cup of coffee.

The local history museum where you worked stood tall and proud, its grand facade a testament to the stories held within its walls. As the assistant collections manager, your days were consumed with cataloging, preserving, and inputting the items into the online database. It was a job you adored, one that allowed you to immerse yourself in the past and connect with the present through the lens of time.

But there was something about Ellie that added a new dimension to your mornings. Each day, like clockwork, you would step off the 48 bus line and make your way across the cobblestone street to the cozy coffee shop. And each day, Ellie would greet you with a warm smile and a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

"Good morning," Ellie would say, her voice as inviting as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

"Morning, Ellie," you would reply, returning the smile. It was a simple exchange, yet it never failed to brighten your day.

As the weeks went by, the interactions evolved beyond mere pleasantries. You began to exchange snippets of conversation—small talk about the weather, musings about the latest museum exhibit, and eventually, deeper discussions about the shared passions for art. You found yourself eagerly anticipating the morning conversations, the moments of connection amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. There was something about the way Ellie listened intently, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest, that made you feel seen and understood in a way you hadn't before.

So when Ellie had begun to leave doodles on your to-go cups, you felt obligated to return the favor in some way. It started innocently enough, with a simple "thank you" scribbled on a napkin, accompanied by a smiley face. But as the days passed and your interactions became more frequent, your gestures grew bolder, more playful.

On this particular morning, the one after you had meticulously scoured the back office for a set of pencils to match the parcel in your bag, you realized you were running late for work. You were supposed to be at your desk ten minutes ago, and yet here you were, still a block away. You tried your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as you glanced at your watch, until the familiar awning came into view and you practically ran into an older gentleman as you swung open the door.

As the jingle of the large oak door signaled your arrival, the familiar gleam of the girl behind the counter drowned out your previous anxieties. Her hair was tied back in her usual low bun, a gray flannel adorning her slim torso, a black apron tied loosely around her hips. As Ellie handed you your usual order – because of course she already had it made – you slid a journal across the counter, a mischievous gleam in your eye.

"For you," you said with a grin, watching as Ellie's curiosity piqued. Ellie's eyes widened in surprise as you flipped open the sketch pad, revealing a whimsical drawing of the two of you—coffee cups in hand, surrounded by swirling patterns and doodles.

“Well this is quite…” she began, laughing quietly to herself.

“Oh you are the artist, that’s for sure. But I always feel guilty putting your little doodles in the compost bin, so I figured I’d offer something more…” You flipped through the remaining blank pages, turning the leather bound book in your hand, “Permanent.”

“Oh, I can’t just take this,” Ellie suddenly felt flustered. A pretty girl gifting her art supplies when she could barely afford rent?

“Dude,” You pushed the journal into her reluctant grasp. “We have like a hundred of these just floating around from overstock at the giftshop.”

Ellie's cheeks flushed with gratitude as she traced her fingers over the smooth leather cover of the sketch pad. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice tinged with emotion.

"You're welcome," you replied, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction at her reaction. You dug around in your purse trying to find the exact amount of change for your latte, the line of people now forming behind you a reminder that you were, in fact, still running late for work.

“It’s on the house,” Ellie rushed out, attempting to reach out and stop your anxious rummaging. You raised an eyebrow in response.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” You replied, tucking a portion of your hair behind your ear. Could Ellie tell how clammy you were? The barista only shrugged and offered back a sly smile. Knowing you didn’t have the time to argue, and before thinking it through fully, you grabbed a pen from the cup next to a collection of straws and napkins. As your fingers grazed Ellie’s arm, the ink diligently showcasing the swirling of your writing on the other girl’s forearm, Ellie could swear that every patron in the shop could hear how loud her heart was beating.

"In case you ever need someone to cover your shift," you said with a playful grin, grabbing your coffee and at last making your final trek to the building next door.

As you grabbed your coffee and hurried out the door, Ellie stood rooted to the spot, her mind swirling with a million thoughts and emotions. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was over analyzing the interaction. A sudden jolt to her side earned her best friend, Jesse, a sharp kick to the shin.

“Ow!” He whined, putting his hands up in defense. “One conversation with a pretty girl and you zone out. There’s customers and I’d love to be done by three.” Ellie rolled her eyes, going back to actually doing her job and not drooling over the woman who had become a regular.

“Dina won’t care if we’re late,” Ellie mumbles, running the espresso machine for another order.

“That’s bullcrap and you know it,” Jesse shakes his head, restocking the ice and rolling his eyes. “She’ll have both our heads.”

“Whatever,” Ellie groans, opening up a new carton of oatmilk. God, she complains, why do queer women love oatmilk so much?

Despite the flurry of activity at the museum, you sat quietly humming to yourself in the back storage rooms. You put your anxious energy into your work, trying to focus on deframing old pieces. You made quick work of the frames, carefully utilizing a box cutter to slice the paper backing and removing the mat – the acid-free board that most of the artwork in the collection is taped to – from the plexiglass. As you work through this older collection, you evaluate the condition of each print and place it in a pile to either be put into storage or deaccessioned.

And yet, amidst the meticulous work of evaluating, your mind kept wandering back to Ellie and the uncertain exchange at the coffee shop. You couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation mixed with apprehension. What if you had misread her signals? What if your attempt at playful flirtation had come across as presumptuous? These questions circled endlessly in your mind, distracting you from the task at hand.

As you carefully removed the last print from its frame, you mentally checked off one of the various tasks on your todo list. The little remaining coffee from this morning had gone cold, a frown adorning your face as you rinsed the cup and tossed it in a bin. Your phone, which has been balanced precariously on the edge of your work station, buzzed softly.

[xxx-xxx-xxxx]: leaving your digits on my arm, huh? trying to make sure I don't forget you?

Your heart fluttered at the sight of her message, a mixture of anticipation and relief washing over you. She hadn't outright rejected your gesture, and her playful tone hinted at a mutual interest.

you: guilty as charged! wanted to make sure to leave my mark :p

#ellie x reader #tlou2 #tlou #ellie williams #abrewofhistory #fanfic #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #modern au #wlw fanfic

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jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear · 2 months

Note

Happy birthday moffy!!🎉🎉

Wanted to draw you something but I sorta have art block at the moment so it’s not much nor the best sorry

that's your art block art? OMG but it's so good! grumpy Jonathan hahaha <3333

I love that he's wearing plaid too!!

thank you so much!!!!

#MistressANswersYourLastWords #Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #<3333

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pinkysgallery · 3 months

Note

Omg hi!!

This may come off as a bit late, but I just wanted to tell you that after reading chapters 1-2-3 of your Wakfu fanfic Collision in English, I FELL IN LOVE WITH IT 💖❤️❤️

Seriously, this might just be one of the best Wakfu fanfics I’ve ever read on Wattpad (AO3 is a whole other breed 👹💕) of all places and I’m so grateful I even came across it thanks to you on tumblr!!

I just finished reading chapters 4 and 5 right now AND I NEED MORE ❤️❤️

I don’t know how you did it, but you perfectly did everything right! You managed to properly convey some of the sadidas’ opinions about the eliatropes, you even showed an elite eliatrope’s perspective on their history (from their days back in the Genesis era to today), you portrayed each character so accurately, and you managed to fill up what we were missing before the season 4 finale.

Honestly, I think you’re extremely good at what you do and I love the way you had the idea to start the fic right before season 4’s final episode.

You make my day everytime you upload and it’s always worth it 💖💖💖

Thank you so much for even finding the time and energy to translate the chapters!! 💕💕💕

Mmm, ok, let me take a moment to...

Cof cof, ok, I'm fine☕️💦

Thank you SO MUCH for giving it a try to Collision, and for your quick review, it means A LOT 🤧💙💚. I've been following your neat blogs and reviews for a while now, and let's just say that I've been taking notes 👀☕️💦 So I can say that most of the development is thanks to your analysis influence 👉👈💙💚

I've been a little concerned about how the English version is being received, cause I still don't have much feedback there, and I've been posting the translation feeling that is not 100% accurate, but doing it anyway for that part of the fandom's sake, cause I wanted them to read it too, even though I know my English is not perfect 🤧👉👈💕

The Spanish version, on the other hand, is receiving more feedback (depending on how juicy is the chapter) and it has already 32 chapters that I've been writing and posting on the go, and it keeps going. So, don't worry, you'll have more juicy content eventually 😏☕️✨️

Or maybe in a few minutes... 👀💦

I decided to post the translation this way so I could take time to manage both versions, keep posting on AO3, keep making art, and post to my social media, while I deal with my real life and keep translating...

I'm fine, really👉👈💦

So your feedback and support mean to me MUCH MORE THAN YOU THINK, and refill me with motivation to keep up the hard work 🤧🤌💙💚

Thanks again for passing by and giving it a chance 🥹💙💚 Please do not hesitate to give me your opinion, or suggestions, that also help me to improve and defeat the creative block that I get sometimes 😅🫠💕

#wattpad #fanfic #amreading #wakfu #pinkyhime #yumalia #wakfu collision #thanks for the question #thank you

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house-strong · 2 years

Text

— DRAGONS BANE, chapter five ʾ ⋆

CHAPTER FIVE — light side of the moon.

index ; chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter seven. chapter eight. chapter nine.

summary ; spending days away from you presence after your squabble, aemond is contemplating on the task his mother had set for him. you, on the other hand, were doing your duty as a servant to the crown. you accompany helaena on all her adventures. today, whilst remembering your home castle, helaena talks about a festival within the city walls. you're tempted to go, but have no willing chaperone. rules are broken and there's a new light shining from above.

pairings ; aemond targaryen x reader , platonic!helaena targaryen x reader , jacaerys velaryon x reader (mentioned)

notes / warnings ; omg this is nearly 5k words LMFAO,, more bonding 🧡 uhh slight mention of a man being gross but it isn't explicitly stated. aemond is still an ass and you and helaena share a tender moment. aemond also talks about losing his eye,, DEVELOPMENT !

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“do you ever miss home?”

helaena’s voice is sweet to your ear. the question is honest and sentimental, her gaze soft as she eyes you. though, you can’t help but feel that the question is a taunt, but you know better than that. you wonder why she was suddenly curious about your home – perhaps it was the poem that made her question you about your feelings on yours. you think about it for a moment, tongue licking your teeth.

you play with the ends of your hair, looking up at her through your lashes, “i do, princess. but, my place is here with you now.”

helaena’s fingers fiddle with the papers of the poetry book. she rolls the paper back and forth, deciding to crease the corner to serve as a temporary bookmark. you grimace at the action but say nothing.

“what’s highgarden like? is it different from kings landing?” she probes, her head tilting slightly as she shuts the book that was in her lap. instead, she rests her elbows on the hard cover, leaning forward as if you were sharing interesting gossip.

“it’s beautiful,” your words are laced with a forlorn sentiment, one that softly tugs at your heart. even though it’s barely been half a year serving as helaena’s handmaiden, you’ve already forgotten what home was. it was easy to take every spectacle for granted since you once saw them every day. but now, without the constant reminder of flower walls, perfectly rounded shrubbery, and the marble statues – it was easy to forget. “it’s more flowers and art than anything, no dreary buildings to block out the sky.”

helaena seems to sigh at the notion. highgarden was truly magnificent and words couldn’t even begin to scratch the surface on how breathtaking it actually was. your lips twitch downward as you continue to think about it – your friends, your family, how were they doing? has any of the flowers changed since you last saw them? any new sculptures or rooms? your hands collapse into your lap and you begin to fiddle with your fingers.

“highgarden often hosts party’s and festivities, don’t they?” you raise your head to acknowledge helaena’s next question. you smile and nod your head, the words unable to come out and affirm what she was asking about. it was weird, no doubt, to be talking to someone who had no absolute idea on what kind of grand, social soirées took place at highgarden – it was often the talk of the reach. “i believe there’s a festivity tonight within the city.”

if your interest wasn’t piqued now, it sure was.

your brows raise and your mouth parts slightly, though the words that were supposed to come out were interrupted by a man – “festivity? it’s nothing more than a fuckfest.”

you head turns and it’s aegon with aemond trailing after him. the latter gives his older brother a sour look, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed. you turn your head the other way and roll your eyes, not missing the double take aegon seems to give you.

“aegon.” his name seems to flow off the tongue of yours and aemonds at the same time, a scold evident. the word is, eerily enough, the same pitch and volume. you both cast each other a glance before continuing to glare at aegon. it’s aemond who continues the conversation after a tut - his voiced is hushed, “such use of language around your wife isn’t appropriate.”

aegon waves his hand in the air as if he’s swatting away the scold. he rounds the furniture and stands behind helaena, a grin parting his lips as he gently clasps her shoulders. she seems uncomfortable now, the smile she bore now replaced by a thin line. though it’s been sometime since helaena and aegon’s wedding, you can’t help but still feel unnerved at the mention of the word wife.

“come, my darling wife,” aegon says, sucking in his bottom lip and teething it. “i want to show you something.”

the look he gives her makes you feel icky and you must admit, the look on helaena’s face is enough for you to be disturbed. you’ve never asked helaena about the relationship – she always seemed like a candle snuffed out in his presence.

helaena gingerly takes his outstretched hand and rises from her seat. she casts you a look, slightly tipping her head in a silent goodbye. you give her a reassuring smile, but it doesn't do much. you cross your legs, fingers thrumming against the wooden table as their receding footsteps come to ear. soon, silence befalls you and aemond. you take a look at him; he's paying you no mind, except his jaw is set and his fingers are rubbing together in though. no doubt, he was also bothered by their absence.

you clear your throat and he almost seems to glare at you out of the corner of his eye.

"have you been there?" you offer. aemond turns his head this time to full look at you, eye squinting.

"where?" his voice is monotone and low, drastically different from the light airiness of your own. it sends a shiver down your spine and you don't like that.

you want to roll your eyes, "the," you begin, suddenly feeling shy underneath his watchful stare. you look down at your hands, fingers already starting to pick at the skin of the nailbeds. the action was absentminded and hardly your own. "the festival."

"it's unfit for a lady."

"i wasn't asking if it was fit for a lady."

both phrases are calloused and harsh, two sentences that shoot out like swords that clash in the air. he tilts his head, his stare hardening. you jut out your chin and raise your brows questioningly. defiance meets defiance, but aemond seems to give in a little too easily.

"i have," he finally says, "but i must confess, being your tribulation is much more amusing."

you roll your eyes, of course, "i'll decide that."

aemond, intrigued by your response, turns his entire body and leans forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. he's facing you now, legs, chest, and face attuned to your direction. he gives you a sly grin, one that's almost challenging your statement.

"and how will you accomplish that, little flower?" he asks, his finger pointing at you almost accusingly, "you have no chaperone."

you snort, shaking your head. you hadn't thought this out too far – you hoped that he wouldn't be too keen on questioning you, but alas, your plan fell short. you chew on your bottom lip, trying to decide what to say without outright pleading him to take you. you wanted to be granted this one night of fun – a night that would remind you of home.

"hm?" aemond taunts when you don't reply. in response, you glare at him. he seems satisfied by this; the grin he had on his face only grows with each passing second.

you sigh in frustration, "i'll go on my own."

despite the confidence in the way you say it, the idea outright terrifies you. to be a highborn lady, alone, on the streets of kings landing was unheard of and definitely avoided. your father had always warned you of the beasts that men become after a cup or two of too much wine. you would be devoured by them, squabbled over like children to their toys. you're unnerved at this point of your own thoughts and aemond can tell. though, he likes this newfound fire. he wants to poke at it and feed air to it, to breathe a new flame of ferocity into it.

undoubtedly and without confession, he wants to experience the raw and unfiltered version of you.

he continues to stare. there’s a mischievous gleam to his blue eye, one that seems to make the iris glow iridescently. you take this moment to observe his face – strong and sharply sculpted, as if he was carved by the gods themself. his lips, despite being constantly curved into a sly sneer, are perfectly imperfect. his top lip casts a shadow over his bottom one and there’s a bow within the top that gives it more dimension. your gaze moves down toward his chin, where it proudly protrudes – and this is the first time you notice that there is a faint dimple in the middle. your eyes trail back up; his brows are fluffy and unkempt, baby hairs flaring out from both the top and bottom. the softness they give contrast to the harsh lines of the rest of his face.

he’s pale in this light, yes, but he’s indubitably gorgeous when he’s not brooding, taunting, or snapping his jaws at those near him.

"i'll pray you don't return," he says, clearly with amusement. you scoff and roll your eyes once more, getting up with such force that the chair screeches with abuse. you turn abruptly and walk away, grumbling about his scorn. you exhale deeply, slipping between the door and the crack to get away from him. despite his beauty, he was a nuisance – a head-splitting headache.

it's not long during your roam through the castle's hallways that you are summoned to princess helaena's room. the servant who brings you this summon, instructs that helaena desired to be bathed. you oblige, stopping by the linen closet to grab cloths to wrap the princess with and smaller strips at well to scrub her skin with. your feet carry you quickly to her private quarters and enter only after your knocks are met with an acknowledgement.

there's a bath filled with steaming hot water. you approach, setting the linens nearby before grabbing nearby bottles of soaps and oils. you open the oil bottle and shake a few droplets into the steaming water. instantly, the room is filled with the pleasant aroma of fruits. you turn and helaena is sitting quietly, staring down at the small piece of sown cloth. there's a spider on it, sown neatly with little to no errors.

"helaena," you call, approaching her slowly as not to startle her. she's broken from her trance and suddenly remembers where she's at. the princess gets up and closes in on your location, slowly tugging at the strings of her loosened chemise. you help her undress and ball the clothing up, discarding it into a bin that you mentally note to take to the chambermaid. you help her into the water and she sinks in, sighing at the warmth that soothes her muscles. you roll up the sleeves of your dress before continuing.

you grab a strip of cloth, soaking it into the water. you wring it out and drag it across skin that's surfaced. you notice, out of the corner of your eye, that helaena relaxes into your touch. you continue like this in silence, the sound of water dripping from the cloth as you repeated your actions. you move from her arm to her shoulders, over to the length of her back, and then to the other arm. you work meticulously, even going as far as to scrub at the undergrowth of her nails. you hand helaena the rag, abandoning her side to grab some soap for her scalp. the princess dunks her head into the water, hands running through the strands of silver hair in order to soak it through.

this felt like a routine to you and you both worked in perfect synchrony. once she's done wetting her hair, you move to the end of the tub and lather the soap into your hands. the substance becomes suds and in turn, you begin to massage it into her scalp.

"have you thought about names?" your voice is gentle and bordering a whisper. helaena smiles and meets your eye – hers sparkle with what you could call motherly tenderness.

"i was thinking jaehaerys.”

the name is undoubtedly targaryen – no doubt a tribute to the former king. you muster a smile that matches hers and coo in response.

"a name fit for a prince." you both giggle and she continues to scrub at herself.

"i pray so," she says after a moment. she looks up at you through her lashes, "have you thought about having children?"

the question causes a pang of hurt to radiate through your body. though you're sure it wasn't meant to intentionally hurt you, you can't help but think about the romances that simply didn't work. first, it was the boy from highgarden. what his name was, you couldn't remember, just that he was unmistakeningly handsome and had a smile that would put the gods to shame. then, there was prince jacaerys.. the kindling that never happened. you smile at the thought of the latter, though it's laced with disappointment.

"no, not really, my princess." helaena frowns and notices that she's plucked at the strings of your heart. her wet hand reaches out for you, gently holding you in place as she gives you a look. it's knowing and almost apologetic – most importantly, it's her showing that she understands.

"you can leave me, my friend. i can see myself to bed." you smile gratefully at her and lean forward, placing a chaste kiss on her temple.

"good night, helaena. i will see you on the morrow."

she bids you good night and you see yourself out, rolling down the sleeves of your dress. there's spots of wetness – spots that begin to irritate the skin underneath. you reach your room after walking through the corridors. your feet ache and there's a dull pain in your knees that starts to crawl up the bone of your thigh.

you finally reach and enter your room, locking the door latch once you're safely inside. you slump on to a nearby sofa, rubbing at your legs with a soft moan. you, however, were fully intent on celebrating the night festivites. how, you didn't know, but you would figure it out and play it by ear. once you're rested enough to not audibly complain about the feeling in your legs, you get up and change out your dress. this one is darker in tone and still long-sleeve. it's plain; less adorned with jewelries and designs. you change out your shoes and search your closet for a shawl, something you could wear to keep you warm.

once you've figured out what you were wearing, you look at yourself in the mirror. hopefully, your clothes wouldn't be such an exclaimer on your status. you grab a coin pouch and pull out a few coins. you figured if you kept your purse light, you wouldn't be an easy target. hopefully.

you quickly braid the length of your hair, tying it off with a leather bound before tucking it into your hood. you tuck the pouch into your clothing and make your way to the door. fingers expertly unlatch the lock and you swing open the door. your eyes are met with an enclosed fist and the sight of silver hair.

"aemond?" brows furrowing, you look at him up and down. he's wearing almost the same exact thing you are. you tut and narrow your eyes at him.

he moves past you, as if his presence wasn't a surprise, "good, you haven't left yet."

"excuse me?" you make a face, watching him as he entered your room. you shut the door and walk towards him, arms crossing over your chest. "why are you here?"

"we're going to the festival."

"when did me become we?"

he rolls his eyes at you, "don't be childish, little flower. did you believe i would have let you go, unaccompanied?"

"i did, yes," you shoot back. aemond moves about your room, studying the walls with an interest that confused you even more. what was his deal? "i was hoping to be blessed with a night without you."

his search is broken by your words and he gives you a pointed look, his eye narrowing, "now, now, i'm being charitable. you should be thankful."

charitable? thankful? annoyance begins to bubble in your stomach and you're ready to curse him, yell at him for being so assumptive–

there's a loud creak that seems to shake the room. aemond is pressing on the wall and despite it being carved out of stone, it moves.

"come now, the festival won't wait all night."

you close your mouth. maybe you shouldn't argue with him just yet. besides, his way of escaping in the night was much more.. practical. and, he would also be a valuable chaperone. he had a sword, a dagger, and all the means to protect you. without a second thought, you move forward and follow him wordlessly. you're moving through the passageway, steps light.

"i never knew these existed," you mutter after observing the walls. they're not at prettily crafted as the ones that decorate the main hallways of the castle. they're hastily built and forego any beauty. there's droplets of water coming from somewhere, though it seems more like an echo rather than a nearby source.

"not many do. aegon showed me the day he took me to the street of silk on my thirteenth nameday," aemond responds. he stops at a fork in the road, looking left, looking right.

your brows furrow at his words and reach his side, "street of silk?"

he seems to falter at his echoed words. he thinks for a moment, distracted by the notion. aemond grimaces at his vivid remembrance. "yes."

"but-"

aemond picks the left passageway and interrupts you, "this way."

dumbfounded, you watch him trail away. street of silk? what in gods name, would he be doing in the street of silk at thirteen? you frown, assumptions beginning to cloud your once excited mood. you hurry after him and stay silent for the rest of the twists and turns. soon, the exit is within sight.

you two leave the castle and you are amazed at what you see. the kings landing that existed during the day was nothing compared to the splendor of the night festivity that was going on. lanterns littered the streets, spouts of fire causes shadows to dance in the distance, and from the looks of it, there's people dancing.

aemond leads the way down the steps and into the streets. music becomes increasingly louder and you pull your coat tighter around you as a cool breeze flows within the air. you notice that aemond has tucked his hair into his own cowl and has pulled up the hood to conceal his hair; a smart move.

you're open-mouthed and practically gawking at everything you see. the parties at highgarden are nothing compared to the rawness of kings landing. people are laughing, drinking, fucking in alleyways, and are absolutely visceral – basking in their freedom. you see a vendor and tug at aemond's lapel, though, he doesn't turn around. you huff and wander off, politely excusing yourself through the crowd.

candied berries, mugs of a brown liquid, bread, and other items litter the shelves of the shop. you eye the candied berries and point, asking the vendor for a handful. once you learn the total, you pull out your pouch and grab a few copper pennies and an extra silver dragon. you give it to the man, offering him a smile as you exchange currency for food. he's astounded by the coins you give him and he yells over the crowd his gratefulness. you wave and tuck both the pouch of your coins and your berries into your belt.

you wander off once more, eyeing the buildings rather than where you were walking. your eyes trail to the streets, then in front of you where you encounter a man standing in your way. worry begins to pickle at your skin and you utter an 'excuse me', but it seems as if it goes in one ear and out the other.

he begins saying some obscenities, not loud enough for you to hear, but enough to make you uncomfortable. you back away slightly and he advances, though, it's cut short. his once lewd face falls into a fearful one, and he instead, backs off. you turn around and sigh in relief at the sight of a hooded aemond.

"you shouldn't wander off." you're unsure if it's a scold or not. aemond's eyes move down, eyeing the two pouches that were tucked away. before he turns to lead the way, you could swear that there was a smile twitching the corner of his mouth. was it the berries or your purse that caught his attention?

you follow wordlessly, paying closer attention to where he was going. he's leading you somewhere less crowded and noisy, somewhere where it's a view due to the steps you both climb. soon, he reaches a ledge where it oversees the lively streets. he moves his cape, settling down on to the grass with ease. his legs hang over the ledge and dangle lazily. you opt for more grace; bending at the knee and keeping modest as you sit cross-legged. you smooth out your dress before reaching for your candied berries.

dipping two fingers into the pouch, you pull out a berry and toss it into your mouth. you munch on it politely, savoring the sweetness it brings. you take another one before offering the pouch to aemond. he turns his head to fully look at it when he notices it out of the corner of his eye. his blue eye widens, enough so that the whites of his eyeballs show. he looks up at you through his lashes, offering a few, slow blinks. he waits for a moment, as if testing you, before he reaches in and snags a few berries for himself. he puts two in his mouth and chews on them. he's surprised at how juicy and sweet they are, dousing his tastebuds in pleasantry.

his hesitance is obvious to you, and you feel the need to voice it, "are you so tainted with hatred that you've forgotten what kindness is?"

"kindness is often masked as deception, it dissuades me," he divulges. his gaze shifts from the pouch to your eyes, and from behind the sapphire hue, you can see the umbra of hurt. you eat another berry, thinking carefully.

"the celebration here reminds me of home," you confess after a moment. aemond looks back out at the scenery, but your sight remains fixed on the outline of his face. from this orange glow, it's soft and almost romantic. it's drastically different from the harsh lines he had in the sunlight. feeling like you're staring a little too long, you clear your throat and look away – he seemed to notice.

"d’you miss it?"

his question nearly catches you off guard. you'd expected him to ignore your comment and pretend like you didn't say anything.

"i do."

side by side, you and aemond snack on the rest of the candied berries. you're both caught up thinking in your own minds, almost forgetting each others presence. you then think about aemond, then his eye. despite your best efforts, you can't help but feel curious about the tragedy of his left eye. did a cat claw his eye out as a child? were the whispers true and he had plucked his own eye out? you bite your lip.

"may i ask the truth of you eye?" the words are meek, clearly afraid of any possible outlash like from the first encounter you had with the prince. his jaw becomes set and you hear an audible breath be released from his nose. he turns his head to give you a look; perhaps aemond should have known better. had you lulled him into this peaceful tranquility just to dull your curiosity? was your berries a deceptive tactic in order for him to confide in you?

aemond thinks he's being a bit too harsh by being accusing. then again, his words replay like a broken tune in his head. kindness is often masked as deception.

"it happened years ago, when i was a child," he begins, looking down at the grass. his hands move to play with the green tufts and slender fingers deftly pluck separate strands. "my nephews did not like that i claimed vhagar."

your brows furrow and you scooch over just a bit. aemond is confused by the proximity, but thinks nothing of it.

"she was riderless and i without a dragon. when i returned, we fought." aemond doesn't miss the way your face contorts, was it horror or disturbance? he knows the face all too well – it's the same face every person he tells the tale to makes. at this point, aemond starts to feel as if his words are moving you against him – as if you're not understanding his side of the story. why did everyone assume he was the villain?

"y'think that was the right thing to do?" despite the softness and carefulness that lingers in your words, there's no doubt a beast stirring within aemond – and he doesn't like the way your question doubts him. it's annoying and most of all, hurtful.

"you don't?" he responds back callously.

"vhagar is a dragon and he took my eye," aemond is growing increasingly irritable. he spits the words out like venom through clenched teeth. whoever the ominous he was, you assumed that aemond had a disclosed abhorrence for whoever it was. he was robbed of his eye, his vision. his fists closes in balls on the grass and the hands shake, "i was a child and they berated me, and they beat me for claiming a dragon."

his speech is now uneven, laced with the hardness of anger. the once calculated, even-tongued aemond targaryen, had now descended into a brazen mess of incoherent feelings. pent up feelings from long ago were beginning to bubble over.

aemond feels his lip twitch and you feel sympathy coil in your stomach. you gingerly reach out, hand enclosing over his bicep in an attempt comfort him. he's ready to swat it away, but soon enjoys the warmth that seeps through his clothes. its benevolent and sweet, almost bearing the same consolation as his mothers hold. he thinks he likes it.

"it's all right, aemond. it's the past, we cannot rewrite what's already written in the stars."

he stays like this for a moment, evening his breaths and settling himself down. he doesn't like the fact that he became berserk, unwound by a single topic from his childhood – a scar that felt like had reopened. he swallows the rest of the pain away and rises with ease to his feet. he outstretches his hand in offering to help you up. you take it.

"we must return, i'm sure someone is bound to be curious about our whereabouts." without another glance or word, aemond pretends like the ordeal didn't happen and instead leads the way back to the secret passageway. the journey is silent and full of reverence for it.

aemond turns back to glance for your whereabouts, probably reassuring himself that you hadn't wandered off. you two climb the steps back to the passageway then enter through the hidden door. he leads you through the hallways with expert precision, retracing the steps you took to exit. you wouldn't have remembered where to go and were thankful for his memory.

a yawn parts your jaws and tug once more at aemond's cloths. he notices it this time and turns around, his brow raising questioningly. you lick your lips, looking into his eye with sincerity.

"beneath the brooding, pompous facade you throw on for others," you take a breath, "there is some good in you, aemond. i just wish you made it known."

"hm."

the ridges of aemond's mouth purse into a thin line. he blinks, casting a glance down before turning around and continuing to lead the way. you're suddenly afraid that you've upset him, though you did want to tell him your truth. sincerely, aemond is someone who wasn't all vile, nasty remarks. he's clever, dangerously so, and often is nice to talk to when he's not teasing you. you follow after him and reach the door that leads to your room.

you're hesitant to enter and call out in a hushed yell when you notice aemond has already started walking away, "aemond!"

his steps slow to a halt and he turns halfway, only his side profile obvious in the shadows. you're about disappointed when you realize he was leaving without a goodbye. you swallow the feeling.

"thank you."

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