#how long will dustin maintain the punishment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hbyrde36 · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 7!

ao3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

CW character death, canon typical violence

Steve returned to the center at 8:55pm. He was once again forced to enter the building unarmed, due to their security. You would think being attacked at a place in broad daylight would exclude a guy from those types of measures, but apparently not. Granted, Steve had taken the attacker out with his bare hands. Maybe the powers-that-be assumed he could do it again if necessary, or maybe they were the kind of people who didn’t expect two bad things to happen in only one day. Oh to be so blessed.

Thankfully, there was a different receptionist on duty at the desk this evening, so he wouldn’t have to deal with Andy asking after Robin because he’d forced her to stay home. It was a young girl. She looked nervous as Steve approached and he couldn’t blame her. Surely she’d have heard what happened there earlier in the day. Honestly he was surprised the place hadn’t canceled its programming for the night.

“The order welcomes you.” She said, with a tight-lipped smile. “How can I help you today?”

“I’m here to see Jason Carver.”

She nodded, checking something on her monitor.

“Right this way Mr. Harrington.”

She waved him through a side door that led to a set of offices, the largest of which bore a placard that read, Order Leader Jason Carver.

Steve pushed the door open, revealing a young man with blonde hair sitting behind a modest oak desk. Carver may have appeared to be the same age as Steve, but he knew for a fact that the vampire before him was quite a bit older than he looked. His boyish face screamed innocence, it was the perfect camouflage for a blood sucking predator. Steve suspected it was also what allowed him to amass a following of this size without being officially accused of starting a cult.

“Harrington.” Jason greeted him with a curt nod.

“Carver.” Steve replied, holding the other man’s gaze for a long moment before taking the seat across from him.

Jason quirked his head to the side like a curious dog. “I have to say, waking up to find your name in my appointments was quite the surprise. I didn’t think you’d ever grace us with your presence without the police being involved.”

“I may not be here on official business today, but that doesn’t mean this is a social call.” Steve snapped. Unable to keep his disdain for the man out of his voice.

“Why are you always so hostile towards me, Steve? What have I, or my people, ever done to deserve that?” Carver asked, frowning. He looked for all the world as if his feelings had actually been hurt.

Steve raised an eyebrow. He didn’t buy the act, and could think of many things that creatures like Jason Carver and his followers had done to earn his bad opinion of them. His body was littered with scars, real physical evidence of the harm vampires could cause. Of course, lately, because of Dustin, Steve had begun to accept the fact that maybe not all of them were inherently bad. The jury was still out on Eddie, as far as he was concerned, but the dark haired vampire had helped Steve as much as he was able, and that counted for something. However, he wasn’t ready to extend those new feelings of good will towards a prick like this.

When Steve remained quiet, Carver continued. “I can understand, because of your line of work, why you would be predisposed not to trust my kind, but I can assure you none of my people attack humans or feed from them without consent. Not once they join the order. That is not our way.”

“How can you be sure of that? What happens to a member if they do break the rules? Are they punished? Kicked out? Do you report them to the police?” Steve asked, genuinely curious. The order was very popular and their membership grew larger every day. As the leader, and a master vampire, that meant Jason was in charge of them all. How was he maintaining control?

“I am not here to mete out punishment or treat my followers like children. That’s the problem with the old ways. There is no free will or middle ground when it comes to vampires. If you’re not on the top, you're on the bottom, and at the mercy of whatever your master wishes. I am trying to do something different here. So no, I don’t torture or threaten my people into following the rules. Every vampire or pre-transition human, upon joining the order, signs a moral contract. It is a binding promise between them, and whatever higher power they believe in, to cause no harm, and to only feed in a manner that respects the gift that is being given, among other things.”

Steve snorted. “Right, because no one has ever broken a contract before, or, y'know, lied.”

“That is how free will works, Harrington.”

It was almost admirable, Steve thought begrudgingly. It was a nice idea, in theory, what Jason was trying to accomplish, but It was also completely unrealistic. Steve might be willing to accept that there were a few good vampires out there, but he still believed that the majority of them were decidedly not good, and needed someone to hold their leash.

“So you can’t actually assure me that none of your people have ever stepped out of line. You wouldn’t know, per se, if any of them had something to do with the vampire murders?"

“Ah, so the reason for this little visit becomes clear at last.” Jason actually had the nerve to laugh. “What would make you think my people had anything to do with that? We are non-violent. That doesn’t exactly go hand-in-hand with murder.”

“Non-violent. Right. Does that mean you have no idea that your followers carried out a protest that looked more like a riot at a freak party last night? Guns were fired, Carver. People were hurt.”

Jason’s face twisted in disgust. “The order takes quite an issue with the freak community, and the way they sexualize what we are, and what we consume to survive. It’s sickening. Depraved.”

Steve felt a flash of shame, realizing that not long ago he would have agreed with this man. Now he scowled, thinking of Chrissy and of the others who had been so nice to him at the party. They didn’t deserve that kind of judgment and hatred.

Carver kept going, unaware of Steve’s inner turmoil. “There is a small faction of my followers that have grown tired of waiting for the courts to rule those types of get togethers illegal, and have taken matters into their own hands. While I may agree with them, I do not condone their actions. I’ll see what I can do to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

It wasn’t anywhere near good enough, but Steve would take it over nothing. “And the murders?” He prompted.

Jason leveled him with a challenging stare, which he returned, only flinching when the other man moved to grab his wrist where it rested on the desk between them. The action was a blur, so fast that Steve’s mind barely knew what was happening, yet still he managed to get out of reach in time.

“What are you doing?” Steve accused.

“Testing a theory.” Carver said, casually. “Do you even realize that you’ve been looking me in the eyes this whole time?”

Steve hadn’t realized that actually, and it was a dumb move on his part for a lot of reasons. Namely, that he couldn’t afford getting used to this new level of ability when he planned to do whatever he could to get rid of this thing with Eddie as soon as possible.

“I have some natural immunity, and it's not as if you are trying to bespell me.” Steve deflected.

The vampire narrowed his eyes. “Yet you’ve never trusted that fact before. What’s different now?”

Steve kept his mouth shut. He felt like this was a test. Like Carver already knew something and was just waiting for him to give it away.

“Not to mention the fact that you came here to accuse, or at least heavily imply that me and my people are murderers. Seems like an odd time to relax your stance on eye contact.” Jason considered, studying Steve’s face. “Who do you belong to?” he asked, finally.

“Myself.” Steve declared. The answer came naturally and without hesitation.

“If you truly believe that, you are living in serious denial. I would say you’ve been given at least the first mark. I can’t deny being curious about who could have convinced a vampire hunter to tie themselves to one of us.”

Steve blinked, again unsure of how to respond. Apparently his face had done it for him.

“Oh. You didn’t agree to this, did you?”

“It’s complicated.” Steve said, defensively.

Jason gave him a knowing smile. “I’m sure she’s very pretty, but if you find yourself in need of assistance with the situation, the order would be happy to help”

He would never be desperate enough to take Carver up on that offer, and honestly, Steve couldn’t help pushing. He resented the assumption, and just had to know if the poster boy for vampire purity was also a homophobe.

“While he is very pretty, this was done to save my life, and I have the situation handled. Thanks for the concern.”

Jason frowned again. “Attending freak parties and bonding yourself with a male vampire, I wonder what your father thinks of all this. He must be terribly concerned about you.”

It wasn’t quite the gotcha move Jason thought it was. He wasn’t surprised to find out Carver was acquainted with his father, and Steve already knew he was the family disappointment. This would change nothing even if it did get back to his dad. Still, he’d reached his limit of bullshit for the evening.

“Enough of this, Carver. I didn’t come here to talk about my private life. Multiple master level vampires have been murdered in this city, all of them belonging to Billy. Not a single victim has been from your organization. You can't say that isn’t suspicious.”

“How do you know the perpetrator isn’t human? You yourself have killed, how many vampires now?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve seen the bodies, no human has that kind of strength.”

“I would know if one of my people had done such a thing.” Carver stated, sounding so sure of himself.

“Maybe you do and you’re trying to protect them.” Steve speculated. “Or maybe you yourself gave the order. I haven't learned much here tonight, but I bet if I took that little theory to Hopper, he’d be more than happy to shut you down for a while and give things a thorough investigation.”

Steve didn’t really think Carver had the balls for something like this, but he did think it was more than possible that someone connected to his organization was involved.

Carver stiffened. “No need for threats, I will talk to my people.”

“What good would that do?”

“I have.. ways to know if they are being truthful. I promise to pass along any pertinent information to you, as long as you don’t send the police to my door.”

Steve nodded, and rose to leave, knowing that was the best he would get tonight. Before opening the office door he turned back to Carver. “You should know, I was attacked today in your lobby. Someone doesn’t want me to solve this case, and they knew I was here.”

It wasn't until Steve was walking back down the hall that he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He scrambled for it but didn’t manage to pick up in time. The screen told him it was the 3rd missed call from Dustin in the last few minutes. Shit.

He quickly hit the call back button and raced out of the building towards his car. Dustin answered on the first ring.

“Steve? Steve! You gotta get over here quick. Billy has Chrissy. It’s…it’s bad.” He sobbed, dropping his voice to a whisper as he continued. “They hurt her.”

“Where are you?” Steve asked, frantic.

The only reply he got were the sounds of a struggle on the other end of the call. He screamed into the phone, “Dustin! .. Dustin!”

After a long stretch of silence he was greeted with the sound of deep male laughter.

“Oh, Stevie-boy.” Billy crooned. “Maybe if you’d spent more time investigating the murders, like I asked you to do, and less time helping my people betray me, it wouldn’t have come to this. But, here we are! Come to the coffin, if you dare, and see what I've done to your pretty little bitch.”

“I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!” Steve growled into the phone, but it was no use. Billy had already hung up.

Steve double parked in front of the theater, not willing to waste even one second looking for a parking spot. They could tow him for all he cared, none of it mattered right then. He left the gun where it was, locked in the car. It would take too long to retrieve and he doubted they would let him keep it anyway. He did take half a second to shove a knife down the side of each of his boots before walking to the front door of the venue, though.

There was a show going on that night and the place was crawling with civilians, humans. A girl approached him at the entrance, she wore a name tag that said her name was Heather. It took him a moment to recognize her as the brunette who had been hanging all over Billy at their first meeting. Had that really only been a few days ago? So much had happened in such a short time, Steve thought it felt more like weeks.

She led him through the crowd and into a backstage area. He knew, sort of, where he was going from here. He wanted to blow past her, start screaming Chrissy's name and find her before it was too late, but he still didn’t know what this girl was, and if he’d be able to take her easily or not. It wouldn’t do Chrissy any good if he was hurt or killed before he could reach her. For that reason alone he just barely managed to keep his composure.

When they reached the under stage area and turned, Steve had a feeling he knew exactly where they were headed. He was proven right when they reached the door to the same basement room he’d been kept in.

The door opened and Steve sucked in a sharp breath.

Chrissy was bound to the far wall opposite the wooden steps. He couldn’t tell if she was dead or just unconscious, but she sagged in her chains, eyes closed. She was covered in blood and over half a dozen fresh bites. Billy and Neil stood on either side of her, red smeared around both of their mouths and dripping onto their bare chests. He ran down the steps and tried to rush to her side but Billy stepped in his path.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You only have yourself to blame for this one Stevie-boy.”Billy said, smirking as he licked his lips clean.

“All I’ve done is what you asked me to do!” Steve shouted directly in his face.

Billy grinned. “So bold in the face of me and my father, even as we have your girlfriend chained to the wall like a fucking animal. Does Eddie truly inspire this much bravery?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why are you doing this. What are you talking about.” Neil mimicked him, laughing. “Have you always been so pathetic? I cannot fathom why my kind are afraid of you, Harrington.”

Steve wasn’t aware that he was well known enough among the vampires to be feared. It would be an interesting idea to think on if he weren’t far too busy worrying about his friend at the moment.

“I’m not an idiot. I figured out your play, and let’s just say I'm not impressed.” Billy said.

“I still don’t understand.”

“Let’s go discuss things in a more..comfortable environment.”

“I’m not leaving this room until you let me see her.” Steve hissed through clenched teeth.

Billy sighed. “God, you're so tedious. Knock yourself out. We’ll be waiting outside.”

Steve didn’t wait for the three of them to leave before going to Chrissy. He cradled her face gently, using two fingers to check the pulse in her neck. It was strong and steady. She was still alive, for now, and if he had anything to say about it, she would remain that way.

He smoothed the hair off of her forehead, trying to gently rouse her. “Chrissy?”

Her eyes blinked open, they swam with fear, then confusion, before finally settling on recognition.

“Steve.” She said, voice hoarse.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobbed, letting a few tears fall from his eyes. She looks so small and hopeless. He couldn’t stand it.

“It’s not your fault.”

It certainly felt like it was, after what Billy had said.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” Steve promised, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Tears fell down her cheeks and Steve swiped them away. She gave him a watery smile “Sure Steve.”

“Times up” Heather called loudly from behind him. Steve hadn't realized she was still in the room, and apparently waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

He didn't know what else he could say, and making Billy wait even longer wasn’t going to earn him any favors. So, with one last look back at Chrissy, he made his way up the stairs and out into the hall. Heather once again led the way, ushering him into another room.

Steve immediately rounded on Billy where he sat in a high-backed chair. “What do you want from me?”

“Eddie Munson should be growing weak, rotting inside his coffin. Care to tell me how it is that he is still strong and healthy?”

“How should I know? Why are you hurting Chrissy?” Steve asked, puzzled.

“She needed to learn her place, as did your little friend Dustin. Don’t worry, I have him trapped in his coffin for now but I'll let him out eventually. I took her partially to punish you, and maybe add some extra incentive for you to pick up the pace in your investigation.”

“Why punish me?”

Billy truly looked him over then. “Do you really not know?” He hummed, considering. “Heather, baby, come here for a second.”

The girl complied quickly, coming over to sit on his lap. Like that was a normal thing to do mid interrogation.

Billy placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed hard enough to hurt, but she just smiled as he asked, “What do you think, does he really not know?”

She giggled, the high bright noise sounding out of place in the moment. “Yea. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying. Maybe he’s just not too bright.”

“Well, I'll be damned.” Billy said, leaning back in the chair and shoving her unceremoniously off of his lap. “I didn’t think Eddie had it in him to do something this devious. Two marks on a human who doesn’t even know what it means? That’s low.”

It wasn’t shocking to hear, Steve had suspected it, he just didn’t quite understand what it all meant and why Billy was so pissed off about the whole thing.

“Heather here is my human servant, has been for.. How long would you say?” He asked, directing another question at her.

“90 years give or take.”

Steve’s heart started to race at the implications. “But you look 20, you're not a vampire..”

Billy smiled, basking in Steve’s sudden panic. “I’ve given her all 4 marks, she’s still technically human, but she’ll live as long as I do.”

“No, Eddie wouldn’t…”

“He must have been very desperate, there's no way to reverse the process once it’s started. The second mark allows him to feed energy off of you to sustain himself, you’ve been helping him all this time.”

Steve didn’t want to believe it. He hadn’t admitted it to himself before now, but deep down he had hoped that Eddie would turn out to be a good guy. Good guys did not force an irreversible bond on you, no matter the reason. He couldn’t worry about that now, he had to find some way to salvage this, to save Chrissy.

“But I didn’t know I was doing it, how can you blame me for that?” Steve reasoned.

Billy ignored the question. “Eddie has supporters among my people. Those who'd rather see him in power over me. I could kill him outright, but that would make him a martyr. If however, I kill someone he has given his protection to, it might go a long way in showing that he is not worth their loyalty.”

Steve knew what that meant for Chrissy, and it made his blood run cold.

“No!” He shouted, pleading with Billy. “You don’t have to do this!”

“I would think this was a lesson you’d have learned by now, Harrington. You can’t save everyone. Sometimes, you can’t save anyone but yourself.” With that, Billy gave a nod to Neil, who disappeared from the room in the blink of an eye.

Steve ran after him, Billy didn’t even try to stop him. Both of them knew Steve would never make it in time, but he had to try.

Steve skidded to a stop at the open doorway, staring down. Neil stood there, eyes glittering and covered in even more blood than before. Behind him, Chrissy’s head sat at an odd angle and he knew she was already gone. The bastard had torn into her throat with his fangs and broken her neck for good measure.

Steve screamed wordlessly as he ran down the stairs. When he reached the bottom he bent down, pulling the knife from his right boot without missing a step, as he barreled towards the piece of shit that had just killed his friend.

He wasn't fast enough, and Neil spun out of the way before he could sink the blade into his body. As Steve readied himself for another go at the man, Billy arrived..

“I can’t let you kill him for this, Steve.” Billy said, as he descended into the room. He sounded almost apologetic about it. “If you want to avoid a similar fate I suggest you start learning who your real master is.”

“Fuck you.” Steve snarled.

Billy was suddenly in front of him, having crossed the room too quickly to see. He held Steve off the ground and up against the wall by the throat. “One way or another you will learn respect.”

Steve tried to raise the arm holding the knife, but found himself unable to move, frozen in place. He had no chance now that Billy was touching him. He did the only thing he could manage, and spit right in his face.

Billy growled, face contorting with anger as he released his throat. Steve stumbled as his feet hit the ground, but still he raised the knife, knowing he only had a fraction of a second to do any damage before Billy would be back on him. He shoved upward with the blade and it sank home in the vampire's lower stomach. It was nowhere near his heart, and wouldn’t accomplish much more than pissing him off further, but Steve felt a sick sense of satisfaction in knowing he had made the other man bleed.

Steve was shoved back with a shoulder, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Billy twisted Steve's head to the side, and for a moment he thought he was about to die the same way Chrissy had, but the vampire had other plans.

Steve realized what was coming only a second before he felt the sting of sharp teeth in his neck, and he could do nothing but fade into the quiet dark that washed over him as Billy fed.

Chapter 8

#steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #vampire eddie munson #vampire hunter steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #ao3 link

16 notes · View notes

razorblade180 · 5 years ago

Text

Rosebud Prep 10

Healing, it’s much harder than must people think. Yet somehow not a complicated process. Ruby had healed before plenty of times. The loss of Pyrrha, the disasters that came from failed missions, the merge of Oscar and Oz; Ruby managed time and time again to learn from these scars. Dustin was different. It felt like she hadn’t learn anything. All this time she refused to look ahead like Oz had been trying to tell her calmly before things got physical. It was bitter pill to swallow but one she needed to take. Things needed to change before it was too late. She needed to start making steps. No one would blame her if they were small steps but that’s not how Ruby Rose operated. Where most people walk, she runs. They run, then Ruby sprints. Ozpin had just help her “sprint” all the way to Menagerie and has feet planted on the first steps leading to Blake’s house.

Ozpin:You sure you don’t want me to walk up with you?

Ruby:I’m sure. This is one of things you have to do alone ya know? It’s just my sister....and her new wife.....that have helped me through think and thin. Including my wedding, which is more than what I can say I did for them. I really hope they yell at me.

Ozpin:Feeling like you need to be punished and deserving punishment are two different things. The guilt you feel is proof enough that the ladder isn’t needed.

Ruby:Or maybe my guilt is the ladder...

So began her very long walk on the average sized stairway. In truth she felt like running away. Yang had a way of always making her feel like a little kid despite their age. Ruby have had to own up to mistakes countless times to her big sister and it never got easier. Apologizing out loud to anyone always made her more emotional than she probably should be. Ruby mentally kicked herself for not practicing what she’d say on the boat ride to Menagerie. Even as the final stone step was conquered, not a thing came to mind.

Ruby:(Sigh, guess I’m winging it. Probably not the best move coming from a leader but oh well.)

“Well look who the cat dragged in? The right family tree but the wrong branch.” Said the elderly voice that immediately caught Ruby’s attention. Her gaze was directed to the front entrance and of Yang’s new home. On the porch was a rocking chair that instantly was recognized; as well as the person in it..

Ruby:Maria?!

Maria:What’s with confused look? I say all you kids are still as sporadic as ever. What are the odds I’d meet you here of all places after all this time and not around Vacou? I only live one town over you know.

Ruby:That’s why I’m confused. Why are in front of Blake’s home? Why are in you in Menagerie in the first place?

Maria:What does it look like I’m doing? House sitting of course! The love birds asked me to keep an eye on it while they went on their honeymoon. They should be back today.

Ruby:(Wow, I really am out of the loop.)

Maria:Didn’t notice I was even gone did you?

Ruby:*scratches head* Well.....

Maria:I suppose it’s only natural. A bag of bones like myself doesn’t believe I’d be at the top of any list of relevance. Especially when more important things like weddings are also being skipped.

Ruby:*frowning*Is that your way of telling me I’ve been dropping the ball? Trust me, I’ve noticed...

Maria:Of course. Why else would you be here? Unless one of your many missions has brought The Storyteller to these pleasant shores? You’ve been busy. Too busy.

Ruby:Oz already told me. I really could do without another lecture. Besides, at least innocent lives are safe.

Maria:Sigh, still a kid I see. Wet behind the ears and all.

Ruby:I’m twenty three and I don’t think I get exactly what you’re implying. If anything I’ve gotten pretty good at being an huntsman.

Maria:For a normal perhaps, but that does not apply to you now does it? When was the last time you looked in a mirror? It’s alarming how dim your eyes have gotten.

Ruby:My eyes?

Maria:See for yourself.

Ruby reaches for her scroll and pulls out the camera. Maria was right. It was faint but the iris of her eyes were different. What once was piercing silver now looked a bit clouded and gray. She didn’t know what to make of it but it was hard not to be concerned now.

Ruby:I had no idea.

Maria:Yeah that’s obvious. I know you’ve never been much of a prissy girl but I would’ve thought you looked in the mirror every so often. Anyway idea why it’s happening.

Ruby:Are you actually asking me or are you quizzing me?

Maria:*smiles* Well it looks like you’ve learned at least one thing from your time with me. I suppose that’s worth a straight forward answer. It’s-

Ruby:My will to preserve life? Yeah, haven’t really had that mindset in awhile. I know that isn’t exactly good but believe me, not like I didn’t try to stay positive. I just.....hoping and being positive has been on short supply.

Maria:.....

Maria:You know it’s rude to call me out and cut me off mid explanation?

Ruby:Was my answer wrong?

Maria:Sigh, no you are right. Your headspace isn’t what it used to be. Sure you’re killing grimm but are you aren’t simply doing it to protect people. You’re venting all the pent up anger and hate inside you. It’s a far cry from what the silver eyes powers are based off of. Though I can’t really blame you for falling off course. Losing a kid harbors more than enough pain to change anyone.

Ruby:Yeah, it is. *holds her chest*

Maria:What’s eating away at you.

Ruby:I want to move forward. To smile like I used to be able to but I can’t see it happening. The pain I experienced isn’t something that will actually go away and I shouldn’t think it will; I understand that. But how am I supposed to laugh and be contempt with life if it doesn’t? Living in a world where I’m happy after all of this seems like a fantasy.

Maria:It really does. Overcoming such turmoil with a smile in the very end sounds like something straight out of a fairytale book. Sounds like your specialty, or did I end up spreading around an inappropriate nickname for you?

Ruby:*Eyes widen* Nickname? Wait, The Storyteller? That was your doing!?

Maria:Why so surprised? Who else could’ve come up with such a brilliant nickname. If it was left up to you then you’d be call the The Grimm Reaper number two.

Ruby:I...*red* I would not.....

Maria:*smiles* Twenty three huh? So young to have done so much already; way more than what I did at that age. Guess that leaves you room to do even more impressive stuff. A name like The Grimm Reaper was always too small for the scope of work you do. Making miracles out of nothing, now that has you written all over it. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again. Those eyes of yours will shine brighter than ever. They believe so too.

“Damn right we do. Right Blake?” “I call her purity for a reason.” Both voices sent a chill down Ruby’s spine. Her ears burning from hearing the two people she waited for standing behind her. There was no time wasted turning around to see Blake and Yang in holding luggage in one hand while the other two held each other’s. The sun had a way of bouncing off their rings and shining broken light around them.

Ruby’s eye marveled at it for a second. It was beautiful. She wondered what it looked like during the exchange. The sour thought made her wince a little before looking at Blake. Her friend smiled at her softly before making Ruby notice Yang by bending her left cat ear up and down. Ruby was scared but eventually looked at Yang. There wasn’t a smile; just a simple stare right at her. Any expression carefully hidden. Ruby’s throat ran dry as silver eyes met lilac. Her mouth opened before immediately closing. Tears started to well up and it began increasingly impossible to maintain eye contact.

Her body shook slightly and Ruby found herself looking away from both of them. The entire time her mind racing in frustration about her behavior and actions. Before she knew it, Yang was right in front of her and cuffed the right side of Ruby’s red face. There eyes met again but it was different this time. A visible look of comfort yet concern was on the blondes face. A dam inside Ruby finally gave way and she started audibly crying. Yang pulled her baby sister into a tight embrace and rubbed the girl’s head.

Ruby:I’m sorry......I’m so sorry.....

Yang:Ssssshhhhh it’s okay. We’re okay; we’ve always been okay.

Ruby:You should be angry with me! Furious even! I....I cut you out. Ignored you during the happiest times of your life because I was angry mine were gone. What kind of little sister does that!?

She was running out of breath yet continued to cry her heart out. Her arm wrapping around Yang like her life depended on it. Wanting to never let go again. Yang did nothing but continued to comfort the girl. Happy to finally see her again.

Yang:How could I be mad at my little sister who was grieving. I was just scared. Scared that I’d never see you try to bounce back from something like this. I’ve always known how to help you with things but with this it was different. I ran out of ideas and all I could do was hope one day something will change; that time itself could heal a problem I had no clue how. That it could give you back to me. *crying* I never lost hope your strength. Ruby I love you.

Ruby:I....I love you too.

Blake:*sniffles* I guess I should tell Weiss the team is all here. She’d be mad if she missed a reunion.

Yang:Hehe *sniffles* No kidding. You are staying for awhile right?

Ruby:*wipping her face* Actually...I was hoping... all of you can come with me to Vale. I think I’ll need the moral support....

Yang:Do you even have to ask? Also....ummm, what’s with your eyes? They are all cloudy or something?

Maria:Wow, noticed it in no time flat. Maybe she should have them.

Ruby:*groans in defeat*

xxxx

First step achieved, or at least half of it. The other half was waiting in Patch under a tree; rubbing a very happy corgi’s belly while his handler tended to the sunflower garden under the evening sun.

Tai:So, any plans for the rest of day while you still have some daylight left? Or are you gonna turn in early like you’ve been doing since you got here.

Jaune:I stay up late sometimes.

Tai:And proceed to watch tv and eat before going back to sleep or rubbing Zwei’s belly. He’s never gonna let you leave if you keep showing him this much attention.

Jaune:It’s calming and what else exactly am I supposed to do?

Tai:Go to a restaurant. A park maybe? I didn’t force you to shave your stubble just so you can watch reruns all day. Take it from me, you only feel worse staying in one place.

Jaune:I know. That’s why I’m not home remember?

Tai:A very good step, but you do know technically you’re still not seeing anything. You just chose to stew in your thoughts with a friend. It’s flattering but the point is to stop stewing all together. Best way to do that, occupy your brain. There’s a movie in town we can go see if you like.

Jaune:....Zwei bark twice if you want me to stay here. Bark once if I should see a movie.

Arf arf!!!!

Jaune:You heard the man.

Tai:He always barks twice. That’s why his name is Zwei.

Jaune:What? No way.

Tai:Zwei bark once if we should feed you table scraps or bark twice if we should start another great war.

Arf Arf!!!!!

Tai:See?

Jaune:Maybe he just craves destruction. Like a war dog, or a hell hound. Are you an agent of chaos little guy?

Zwei gets back on all fours and gives a puppy face that would either tell Jaune that he was completely wrong or an act to cover up sinister intent. The corgi ran onto the knights lap and licked his face before scampering off down the dirt path. Both blonde men looking puzzled for a moment before hearing a shriek of excitement and seeing Zwei raised up by a familiar figure. Jaune stood up and looked closely to see Weiss happily loving the dog.

Weiss:Oh how is my favorite guy in the whole wide world!? Yes you are! Yes you are!

Jaune:Weiss? What is she doing here?

Tai:(I swear that dog has better lady luck than anyone. Even Raven likes him.) I guess his number one fan wanted to drop by and see him. I certainly didn’t call her.

Weiss:*happily humming*

Jaune:Uhh Weiss?

Weiss:Hmm? Oh! *clears throat* Sorry, didn’t see you there hehe. Nice to see as always.

She promptly puts Zwei down and opens up her arms to Jaune. Maybe it was current situation or her mind playing tricks but her friend seemed to move a little faster than normal to share a hug. Weiss couldn’t help but remember how fast she moved at Haven’s inn when Ruby and Yang invited her into a hug a few years ago. This held a similar energy to it. The poor was really going through it right now and she had no problem making the embrace last until he decided to end it.

Weiss:Look at that. You’ve shaved since the wedding. Glad to see you look more rested. I’m gonna be honest though, your hair is getting a bit long don’t you think.

Jaune:I could go back to the crew cut....

Weiss:I will personally destroy every episode pair of scissors if you do that.

Tai:I’ll help! Shaggy looks good on you.

Jaune:No one appreciates experimentation.

Weiss:People do when it works.

Jaune:Did you fly all the way here to judge my looks? I already have Tai trying to take away my jeans and black t-shirts

Tai:Change of clothes help state of mind. I’m trying to get him to brighter colors.

Weiss:First of all, Tai we should talk sometime about colors. Second, Jaune I am here to bring you Beacon. That is all the information I can give you. *grabs his hands* Do you trust me?

Jaune:Even if I didn’t, you’d just drag me there.

Weiss:Yep. Tai you should come along too. I think it might make things even better.

Tai gave a look of integument at the tiny girl that gave the same look back. He needed no convincing or explanation. Call it fatherly instinct but he had a feeling in his gut he knew what might be happening. The man patted the dirt off his hands and stood up ready.

Tai:Looks like we have afternoon plans Jaune. Bark twice if you wanna come too Zwei.

Arf Arf!!!

Jaune:Unbelievable....

Weiss started to pull her friend down the path towards the airship she had arrived in. In a matter of minutes they were inside and taking of. Jaune wasn’t exactly thrilled with how fast he went from enjoying outside to going on an adventure. He wasn’t going to complain though. In truth, after that faithful day, sunsets were something he could live without.

His head swiveled to the cockpit to look outside all the same. He was caught off gaurd to notice the pilot was sporting a pair of black cat ears.

Jaune:Blake?

Blake:Hey Jaune. Nice hair. Needs a slight trim though.

Jaune:Why is everyone- I’ll get around to it...

He felt Tai pat his shoulder in comfort. All those years in a house filled with women and yet even he could hold out for so long before bowing out of any debate. Jaune chose to close his eyes and rest instead. He hadn’t done anything straining for a few weeks yet more often than not he was drained of stamina. It wasn’t a mystery why but it was still shocking to say the least.

This surprise had just started and it was already sapping what energy he had. It didn’t go unnoticed by the others on board. A tired Jaune was a rare sight to see; they wished to keep it that way. Weiss tugged on his arm and the two of them began to lean on each other lightly. She smiled to herself as she felt his body slightly let go of tension.

Jaune:Thanks...

Weiss:No problem. Just rest for now. I’ll tell you when we’re there.

xxxx

The ride was short but nice. Blake hadn’t flown the airship too fast for Jaune to handle and even took a longer route to give him more rest time. It was thoughtful but also a bit wasteful as they all found out when finally landed. Yes he rested, but Jaune never really went to sleep. A moment of reprieve was more accurate. Jaune was the first one to leave the ship and started heading up the street. One by one his friends and family caught up to him and enjoyed the comfortable silence.

Traffic was non existent. There was no clutter of trash or people on the streets. The entire area seemed to be bathed in an orange light for miles. A gust of autumn wind gave slight goosebumps and a familiar feeling of grief. How long would it be before this season once again brought him happiness and not the sight of a helicopter fading away? He doubt he’d find a decent answer. Instead he kept walking towards the giant gate he’d seen so many times with some of the people he still had. That number only grew with each step.

The familiar stone road still sported light posts on each side every few feet. About three fourths of the way there sat his teammates on each side; patently awaiting his arrival. Ren and Nora waited for Jaune to be completely parallel with them before walking along side him. Still nothing was said. Nothing had to be. Jaune could see up ahead was Yang leaning on the gate entrance. Her hands rested in her pocket and a sense of ease radiated from the place she stood. The gap between them closed as they met eye to eye. Jaune’s eyebrow raised in curiosity about this unexpected gathering. They had all met not too long ago for the wedding. Yang gave him a playful punch in the arm along with a smile that could warm the coldest of nights.

Both gates opened behind her and she moved out the way. What came next was something he wanted to hope for but didn’t out of fear of disappointing himself. Pass the gate sat Ruby in the middle of one of the stone walkway openings. She was staring at the statue a little ways away. Jaune tried to open his mouth to finally speak but was denied that immediately. Multiple hands found their way to his back and gently nudged him forward; everyone else stayed behind. He gave one final look at all of them before nodding and walking towards his wife. It only took a seconds before he realized he stood right next to her. Silence broken at last.

Jaune:Why here?

Ruby:This spot. It holds a lot of weight for me. You know why don’t you?

Jaune:Of course I do. We first met here.

Ruby:Did you know this ground was mostly intact after the fall? Barely any of it had to be replaced. I bet I could turn one of these slabs over and still find the tiniest bit of Weiss’s dust from that day.

Jaune:Pretty sure you sneezed it all away.

Ruby:Heh. I really thought that was going to be one of the miserable days of my life. Then I met you. You offered me your hand and then your friendship when I needed it the most. Jaune you turned that day from bleak to dazzling and I’ve never forgotten it; you were there when I felt lonely. *shaking* So when I say I’m truly disgusted that I have not shown the same level of compassion, I meant it.

Jaune:Ru-

Ruby:*crying* Please, I have to say this....

Jaune:....

Ruby:I made a vow to you on our wedding day to be by your side through any adventure because it was our adventure. The two of us are a packaged deal. Best friends, co leaders, husband and wife....yet the moment all hell broke loose, I left you alone. I broke our vow and there will never be a valid excuse for that in my eyes. Both of us lost Dustin yet I didn’t act like it. In no way have I been a good wife.

Her voice started cracking. Ruby rose to her feet and stood facing Jaune. There was no part of hey that was still. Her chest was heavy as she tried to breathe.

Ruby:You deserve better than what I have given you and that’s a fact. I’ve seen first hand what a husband, a father can go through after so much loss with my dad but that didn’t stop me from making a similar mistake. If you could possibly find inside yourself to forgive an idiot like me, then I swear that things will be different or so help me, my name as a huntress might as well burn! First and for most I stand by you as your wife and I-

A gasp escapes her lips as Jaune touches her face. Her tears run down the palm of his hand while his own finally roll down to his chin. Ruby’s hands raise up to meet the one on her face. Her nimble fingers trace it until they feel his wedding band.

Jaune:Can you please stop talking bad about the woman I love? She’s been through enough and I just want to kiss her. My love, is something she’ll never have to doubt. It wouldn’t be much of an adventure of it was easy right?

Her eyes widened before a sudden burst of tears flowed out again. Ruby jumped into his arms like her very soul depended on it. Jaune hoisted her up slightly and together shared a kissed that could only be described as the embodiment of love as they know it. Every bit of pain in them could be felt through it but so could their love. A love that mended the vow Jaune never saw truly broken but merely tested.

Ruby:Don’t ever doubt my love either okay? You’ll always be my home. My knight.

Jaune:As will you. My rose.

Their hands interlocked as shared another embrace. Finally she’d done it. The first step was taken, and she took it with everyone on a simple day. Where the wind felt crisp and the world was bathed in sunset.

Part 9

#rwby #rwby rosebud #ruby rose #jaune arc #maria calavera #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #rwby ozpin #taiyang xiao long #nora valkyrie #lie ren #rwby lancaster #bmblb

87 notes · View notes

restlessmelodrama · 8 years ago

Text

Say I Never Mattered Chapter 3 *:･ﾟ✧

Steve Harrington x Y/N Henderson (Slowburn)

Warnings: mention of domestic abuse, swearing

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 /

Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

Playlist

A/N: In this unnecessarily long chapter, you get to know how Steve and Y/N met, also about their relationship and the relationship between Steve and Dustin and some other characters. You also hear about Andrew Henderson and let me tell you he’s a fucking ASS.

Writing this was really challenging and I’m excited to share this with you. Again thank you for the love on the other two Chapters! I really appreciate it and I hope you like this one too.

Also, I’m so sorry that this turned into a Slow Burn. XD

Disclaimer: English is not my native language, so I’m sorry in advance for any grammatical or spelling errors.

Steve woke up nearly three hours after you, head hurting like a bitch.

He was laying in his bed, still wearing the clothes he had worn yesterday.

When he moved he also noticed, that he apparently had left one of his shoes on. The other Nike Classic Cortez was on the floor next to a half-emptied Vodka bottle. He closed his eyes again, in regret. He wished yesterday didn’t happen. He had thought that Vodka would help him to forget and make it easier to blame his actions on the alcohol but everything was still engraved in his memory. Steve Harrington didn’t drink often and when he did it normally was beer. His alcohol tolerance accordingly wasn’t very high and he really felt that on this particular day. He sat up, the room was spinning and he immediately hated himself for making yet another stupid decision.

“Vodka doesn’t help with your problems add that to the list, Harrington“, he muttered to himself.

The infamous list he was mumbling about had been the outcome of a prank he had pulled in Middle School. He had color dyed the schools swimming pool pink and Mr. Clark caught him. Tommy, one of his former friends had dared him to do it as a joke. Nicole, Carol’s red-haired appendage laughed it off and told Tommy that Steve was too much of a “Pussy“ to do it anyway.

Carol and Tommy had been dating and supposedly fucking since seventh grade while Steve, contrary to popular belief, hadn’t even kissed a girl in grade eight.

He obviously was trying to change that, going for Nicole. So when he heard her call him a “Pussy”, he had tried to proof her wrong and win her over.

Mr. Clark had gone easy on him. He hadn’t even told the principal how the pool had ended up with a slight pink tint.

“Steve, this is the third time I caught you trying to vandalize school property. This month.“, Mr. Clark had ascertained rather annoyed.

Steve had just shrugged his shoulders and had looked at his teacher like nothing in the world mattered to him but that was just an act he put on. He had a title to maintain and, if anyone found out that “the Steve Harrington” was losing his shit over a teacher finding out he was misbehaving, they certainly would call him everything in the book but “King Steve“ or anything remotely positive.

But the reason behind him freaking out internally wasn’t that he was afraid of getting sent to detention for the rest of the year. No, he was way past that point. The last time he had been sent to the principal’s office, he was told that over the next action against the school ordinance from his side, they had no other choice but suspending him.

Mr. Clark had just recapped exactly that, to the now also visibly becoming anxious Middle Schooler.

Scott Clark had then debated loudly what he should do to the rebellious kid. When Steve thought back his teacher had obviously done that to scare him shitless, which was quite funny to him now.

...

“Steve, I believe you’re a smart kid. But I wasn’t born yesterday, either. You clearly put on this act because you are frantically trying to be popular. And I guess it’s working out for you but It it really doesn’t suit you and I think you could do better like I said you’re smart and good at sports and I think you do deserve another chance.“, Mr. Clark had said, when he was done scolding Steve, still giving him a warning look though.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Clark. I promise I’ll be better.“, he blurted out so fast, he stumbled over his words.

“Oh no, Harrington, I won’t let it go that easily. I still have to punish you in some way.“, he added after Steve had apologized.

He then was silent for a few seconds, probably thinking about the lightest punishment he could get away with if anyone would have found out about this situation and questioned his methods.

“I think it would be a great idea to knock you out of the skies by making you admit and list the things you did wrong. Why you did them and if they had a positive or a negative impact on your life. Sometimes seeing one’s actions and their results laid out on the table helps to notice, which percentage are actually good things and which percentage are… well, in your case: pure stupidity. Also, we definitely need more people in the organization team for the Snowball, so I’m counting you in, Mr. Popular.“, Mr. Clark had told him sounding very pleased and a slightly gleeful with his selected punishment.

Steve was then let go and allowed to join his friends for lunch. Of course, he told them what had happened, leaving out the few rather embarrassing details.

“… and then he was like, but you still need to write this list and help to organize the snowball“, Steve impersonated Mr. Clark, in true Middle School manner.

Everything they thought was funny back then, sounded so stupid and childish now.

“A list ?“, Nicole squealed.

“I don’t know. I guess some kind of Fuck-Up-List. It was really weird.“, Steve answered, furrowing his brows.

No further explanation was needed to make the Middle Schoolers erupt into laughter.

And that was how the Fuck-Up-List was born. It was really dumb, but it became sort of a running gag in the grade. People were betting on what was on it and making their own lists.

Steve’s list was even published in the yearbook when grade nine was over and they were transferring to High School and the principal couldn’t do shit anymore.

But Steve as funny as he had fought it was, actually started taking it seriously and was still adding stuff to the list when he was a senior in High School. It had helped him a couple of times in his life.

...

And about the Nicole thing, after that, she wanted Steve or preferably King Steve more than ever.

But he had a change of heart.

He met you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were the new kid in Hawkins and your teachers thought it would be a good idea to involve you in the preparations for the “Snowball”, so you could get to know the other students better. You agreed to join the team, trying to overact the fact that you hadn’t signed up for any extracurriculars yet and weren’t planning to do so either.

The team was small. It consisted of Barbara Holland her friend Ally and a guy named Reed who was just there because he swapped his two weeks of detention for throwing an empty Coke Can at Mr. Mundy, in for helping to plan the event. Although the meetings were pretty boring, you still went. You really liked Barb and her friend Nancy she sometimes brought along, Ally wasn’t that bad either and Reed… well, Reed was just a dick. But you knew his type. You had moved to Hawkins from New York. Living in Queens for the majority of your life, you knew a shit tone of people, because there were so many. A lot of them acted exactly like Reed, it felt like you copied and pasted a New Yorker, you knew to Hawkins. When you had moved here you were shocked at how small the population and the town in general were. You knew pretty much everyone at least by their names at the end of ninth grade. It was a huge change for you and it was really strange at first. You had left your friends and your accustomed surroundings behind because your parents had decided they needed a fresh start in a new town. This time together. It was doomed to fail, but you and your brother had as always no say in it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was another irritatingly boring session, this time in the gym where the Snowball would take place in a few weeks. Ally was going on about some cheap, color changing fairy lights that she really wanted to incorporate in the decor as a centerpiece when the gym door opened. A boy in a black shirt and tight jeans came walking in. He had wild brown hair and brown eyes. He looked as bored and as unmotivated as you were.

“Basketball practice was canceled today, Harrington!“, Ally bitched at the boy.

You and Reed rolled your eyes and sighed in unison.

“Yeah, I know that… I’m here to help with the Snowball thing, I guess.“, he said kind of reluctant.

“Oh, thank god, man. I thought I had to die of boredom in this hell of glitter and fairy lights.“, the copy and paste New Yorker said relieved.

“Jesus! No need to get religious up in here, this committee looks scary enough.“, your new member chuckled.

The joke was really bad, but you still had to laugh. He came closer to the group. “Reed, Ally, Barbara“, he bowed down, smiling,“It’s a pleasure to join you.“

Ally gave him a death stare, but he ignored it and looked over at you, his eyes getting wider, he snapped his fingers and then pointed at you. “Oh, my! A new face in Hawkins, I’m actually shocked. No one moved here since…Well, since I was born, I guess.“, he laughed.

“Weird, because that statement doesn’t shock me at all.“, you said with an ironic tone in your voice.

He smiled and stretched his hand out to shake yours.

“I’m Steve Harrington.“

“Y/N Henderson“, you replied shaking his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N!”, he said looking directly into your, Y/E/C eyes, a gentle smile on his lips.

If you had known back then that Steve was convinced from that moment on, that your eyes were the most beautiful ones he had seen and would ever see, melting at the thought of getting to stare into them for hours, your relationship might have gone in a completely different direction.

But that was how it all started. Your friendship, everything you were going to go through together in the future and lots of unspoken and maybe some undefined feelings.

“Quit flirting you two! We got some shit to do!“, Ally yelled after she had eyed your interaction.

Steve just laughed but your cheeks flushed bright red. You weren’t sure why but that had never happened around anyone else. Not like that. In the few following weeks, you noticed quickly that everything was a little bit different between you and Steve Harrington.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Steve stood up from his bed.

He felt his stomach turn and he rushed to the bathroom.

Also barely making it to the sink.

Also throwing up.

But obviously for a completely different reason than you had.

He as well, was sitting on his bathroom floor for a while. The room was a mess. He shouldn’t have left his own party early but he couldn’t have stayed after what had happened. It was like a switch had flipped to pure chaos, not only in him, also in everyone else that had attended his party. After his little speach people went nuts. There was a lamp in the bathtub, someone had punched in the mirror, there were wet clothes in his shower, a bottle of beer was shattered on the floor and someone had written a famous Billy Joel lyric on the door with what he assumed was lipstick.

“She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes.

And she only reveals what she wants you to see.

She hides like a child.“

When he read it he thought about you. How you looked at him last night. Your eyes said everything, you didn’t. It was like you had stabbed him in the heart and when you had turned around guilt trickled over him and he felt the worst he ever had. He knew he deserved it, though. He had screwed up big time.

He hadn’t been able to endure this feeling and he knew he had to leave this house. He was emotionally weak at the moment, which had triggered the situation he had gotten himself in, in the first place.

He had pushed through the masses to his front door, throwing the black blazer he had been wearing earlier over his shoulder and just left. The same black blazer he had worn when Nancy Wheeler told him, she didn’t love him, a few weeks prior on the night of Halloween. He thought that he couldn’t ever feel more pain than in the moment those words had left her lips, but he proofed himself wrong. He felt so horrible about what he had done. The only thing that had been able to calm him down was this fucking bottle of Vodka, he had woken up next to. He felt sick again at the thought.

“Uhh“, he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face and cringing at himself, “I’m such an asshole!“, he mumbled.

...

Meanwhile, Billy Hargrove had arrived at the Harrington Residence, Tommy H. following close behind him. He was the one who told Billy who had taken his keys.

“So she gave them your little sister… who then gave them to your old man?“ Tommy said dumbfounded.

Billy turned around and aggressively shoved his pointer finger in Tommy’s face, “She’s not my fucking sister!“

Tommy just started squinting at Billy’s finger. He really wasn’t the brightest.

Billy looked at him confusion in his features before he quickly dropped his finger.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened anyway! The problem here is that the bitch took my keys. She disrespected me and my property and now I’m gonna have to take something from her. That’s just how this works.“ Billy said with a sadistic smile on his lips.

“But Dude, you were pretty wasted last night. You would probably have crashed your car if she didn’t take them. Shouldn’t you… I don’t know… like, thank her?“ Tommy interposed. Probably the smartest thing that had ever left Tommy’s lips but Billy did not share that opinion.

“Don’t be stupid Tommy!“, Billy said growing angrier.

He had just put the key in the lock of his Camaro when the front door of the house opened and a sick looking Steve Harrington rushed out. He furrowed his brows at Billy and Tommy but didn’t give them much more attention.

“Hey, Harrington!“, Billy yelled,“You seem to really have a knack for scaring women away, don’t you?“

Steve had already passed them and was about to get in his car when Billy’s yelling reached him. Everyone had seen, what had happened between the two of you last night and everyone knew what happened between Steve and Nancy four weeks ago. Billy was obviously trying to tear that wound open again but failed.

Steve didn’t even bother to turn around, he just flipped the two clowns off and responded with a simple, “Just eat it, Hargrove!“, before getting into his BMW and driving off.

...

Steve was late. Before the unpleasant interaction with Billy, he had dragged himself into the kitchen, stumbling over the aftermath of his party, to take some Advil. He had remembered that he agreed to pick Dustin up from the Byers place at 1:30 pm. He had almost forgotten that you had asked him yesterday, saying something about your car being in the shop. Of course, he had agreed. He really liked your brother, they were basically attached at the hip since the end of October. You weren’t exactly sure why, but you were glad that Dustin finally had a male influence in his life. Your father was never there to talk to him about this “Teenage Boy Stuff“ and he certainly was not a good role model.

Steve arrived at the Byers house five minutes late, Dustin already waiting for him outside, looking sulky.

“You’re late!“, the boy declared when he got into the expensive car.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I was cleaning up at home and forgot to check the time.“, Steve lied.

The boy didn’t make any more remarks, turning his head to look outside. Steve was staring at the back of his signature baseball cap and understood the sign, starting the car with a sigh.

It was really quiet for minutes and Steve’s was growing more and more nervous with every mile he came closer to your house. He was thinking about you and how he could make anything he had said last night better. His emotional weakness was showing once again when he turned on the radio trying to drown his thoughts in the music. He was bopping his head around to the sound of “Beat it” by Micheal Jackson while Dustin was watching the pageant for while, soon deciding enough was enough and switching off the radio, looking at the completely surprised teenager in the driver’s seat.

“So, are you gonna tell me what you did to my sister last night? Or do I have to cope with this-“, he stopped to point at Steve motioning his hand around in a circle before finishing his sentence, “-for the next ten minutes.“

Steve’s mouth fell open, his eyes were wandering around between the curly haired boy and the road. He ran one hand through his hair, “I didn’t do… I-I“, he bit his lip and let it slip out from in between his gritted teeth again. He sighed. “I’m an asshole“, he said, this time not to himself, but to the boy next to him who was patiently awaiting his answer. And so Steve laid his entire heart out in front of your brother. He told him everything. From what happened last night to the undefined feelings he had, had towards you since Middle School.

“Dude!“, Dustin yelled, “You’re a fucking idiot!“

“Yeah... Believe me, I know!“, Steve stated.

“I don’t know how you want to fix this but you better think of something in light speed“, Dustin said as they were pulling onto your driveway.

Steve stopped the car and started fiddling with his hands while staring outside with an empty gaze. Dustin looked at him shaking his head since Steve didn’t move an inch. He opened the car door and walked towards your house. When Dustin was on the porch, Steve finally snapped out of it. “Wait!“, he screamed, now fiddling with his seat belt.

He had just reached the door and was standing next to Dustin when you opened

“Hey, Dusty“, you said in a soft tone. Dustin just shook his head and walked past you. You did not ask what was going on, thinking it probably had something to do with the boy in front of you.

So you were just standing there, leaning against the door frame and crossing your arms over your chest. You furrowed your brows and looked at the gatecrasher reproachfully.

You were wearing a huge hoodie and a pair of baggy jeans. Your Y/H/C hair was still wet since you had showered about five times, feeling like you had to wash Billy’s touch off somehow.

Steve ignored your expression and asked, “Can we talk?“

You took in a deep breath and were about to shake your head and shut the door in his face, but your escape plan was interrupted.

“For fuck’s sake, just go talk to him Y/N!“, a determined voice said, behind you.

You glared at your brother who was holding his hands up, like you were about to shoot him and then turned around to stare at Steve, in the same way, expecting him to piss off. But he didn’t.

“Can I come in?“ he asked, uncertain of how you would react.

The two of you had been best friends for almost five years and yet Steve hadn’t been in your house once. He had often picked you up, but he had never set foot over your doorstep and you weren’t ready to change that, especially now. You didn’t know if he really meant what he had said and if that meant your friendship was over. You didn’t let your best friend, your favorite person in the entire world gain an insight on your home life, so you surely wouldn’t let in a boy who had just torn your mental stability into shreds.

“No“, you said sternly.

Steve at that point thought it was over, that he would never get to talk to you again. But to his relief, you added sighing, “Wait here. I’ll be out in five.“

The door slammed shut. Steve’s head fell back, his eyes closed, head now tilted towards the sky he felt relief rush through his body. He was given a chance to explain himself and he was going to use it.

“Harrington.“, a calm, familiar voice spoke up from behind him.

He turned around to face the man who was slowly walking up the stairs.

“Um, hey.“, he greeted him, confused to why he was there.

...

Insight a fight had broken loose.

“… because you need to give him a chance to explain himself. Why are you so angry?“, your brother whispered in a harsh tone.

“I’m angry because it is my choice when I want to talk to him about what happened and not yours. You don’t need to be involved in every mess in my life!“, you whispered back, also harshly.

“I’m not involved in any of your messes“, your brother now hissed. You turned around trying to shush him with just a look, but that only made him yell louder, “You don’t tell me anything! I don’t know where the hell our mother is and why she left and I also don’t know what dad is doing, that you’re so fucking frightened of him!” He had screamed the last part of his sentence.

You stood there shocked. You were missing words. Steve definitely must have heard that, standing outside and you weren’t able to cope with your brother confronting you right now.

There was a sudden knock on the front door and the noise seemed to have reactivated your Broca’s area.

“We’ll talk later“, you told your brother who was now staring at you angrily and grabbed your scarf before opening the door

“Steve, I told you I would be out in fi-“, you stopped mid-sentence when you looked up and your eyes didn’t meet Steve.

“Hopper?“, Dustin asked as confused as you looked.

Hopper smiled at Dustin and looked back at you.

“I found your car.“, he said.

Your heart dropped. You felt jangly and loose inside.

You nodded, remembering that you had informed him that Andrew Henderson had left with your black Ford Escort. He had come by your workplace, the Radio Shack claiming he’d forgotten his jacket in your car when he had made you drive him to the bar the night before. You did not trust him and wouldn’t give him your keys at first, till he threatened to make a scene in the shop and get you fired. So you gave in since you needed to keep your job and you knew he could get you fired in seconds. A few minutes later, you saw your car driving south. And you knew he was gone again. In his opinion, you were overreacting when it came to him disappearing. That it was a little dramatic to call Hopper to come look for him after he had been missing for three months.

And he had really let you feel just how angry he was, when he had returned from god knows where because his daughter had embarrassed him in front of the chief and made it look like he was a bad father. Your ribs and back hurt for weeks after this incident.

So this time you had sent Jim Hopper to just find your car which apparently had been successful.

“Woah, Woah, Woah!, Steve said baffled, “You told me your car was in the shop.“

“You think you and your brother could come with? We should talk.“, Hopper said completely ignoring Steve.

You gulped but nodded in agreement. You turned around to look at your brother. Dustin looked back at you with a worried expression. You rubbed his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “Can you go get your jacket and my Walkman?“

“Yeah, okay…“, he said still not sounding convinced, but turning to get it.

You stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind you. Dustin was still insight searching for your walkman. Hopper interpreted you distracting your brother right and told you, “I also found your dad.“

“Okay“, you breathed out, cutting him off before he could say more in front of Steve.

The door behind you opened again and your little brother stepped outside holding your walkman in one hand and his baseball cap in the other. You smiled at him and brought an arm around his shoulders, leading him towards the police car past an upset Steve Harrington.

“Y/N! What is going on?“ Steve said following you to the car.

“We’ll talk tomorrow Steve. Please, just go home.“, you interrupted him pleadingly.

“Y/N, I-“, he stammered, but you shut the passenger door and turned away from him.

When he realized you couldn’t hear him anymore, he stopped talking and just stood there, as he watched Hopper’s Chevrolet K5 Blazer pull out of the driveway, wondering what the hell was going on. ✧

Tag-List: @onelovewonderwoman @harringtonwife @apologeticallyy

@purecreativityforme @uncle-jjezzy

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #joe keery #steve harrington x reader abuse #steve harrington slow burn #Say I Never Mattered

360 notes · View notes

rechief · 8 years ago

Text

Queenie “Carolina” McMason’s “Big Ol’ Honkin’“ Character Questionnaire

Courtesy of @danscratch.

Paging the Ultimate Carolina Fangirl, @temperamentalartist.

A. Psychology

What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera…

Queenie pretends to be an ESFP -- “playful, enthusiastic, friendly, spontaneous, tactful, flexible ... strong common sense, enjoy[s] helping people in tangible ways,” -- but she is in fact an ESTJ -- “efficient, outgoing, analytical, systematic, dependable, realistic ... run[s] the show and get[s] things done in an orderly fashion,” per Wikipedia.

What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera…

Queenie pretends (this will be a common theme) to be somewhere between lawful and neutral on the good spectrum, but is in fact neutral evil -- she is primarily motivated by self-interest and doesn’t care all that much about whose lives she has to ruin to get what she wants.

Do they have any emotional or psychological conditions? Are they aware of it?

Queenie is a sociopath, but she’s never been officially diagnosed. She is aware that her mental state is aberrant compared to others but doesn’t self-reflect enough to have pinpointed her particular condition.

Do they try to treat it?

On the contrary -- she contributes her condition to her success!

Are they a pessimist or an optimist?

Queenie is an optimist.

Are they good at handling change in their life?

Yes, especially if it’s an upward, or positive, change.

Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”

Queenie is quite sure that her interpretations in that regard are correct -- her mental issues don’t come packaged with hallucinations.

Is your OC confident in their reactions to life in general, or do they get embarrassed or easily shamed for it? I.e., if something startles them, do they insist it WAS scary? When they cry, do they feel like they overreacted?

Queenie is confident regarding her reactions and is not easily embarrassed by such things -- but she’s happy to pretend to be in an effort to charm others.

Is your OC a martyr?

No.

Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others?

Queenie lies a lot, but rarely makes excuses.

Does your OC compromise easily? Too easily?

Certainly not.

Does your OC put others’ needs before their own?

Queenie genuinely enjoys taking care of others -- pampering them, that is, in a uniquely Southern way -- but she’ll also kill someone who’s inconveniencing her at a moment’s notice. So, sort of?

Does your OC have any addictions? If so and problematic, have they admitted it to themselves?

While Queenie is not addicted to drugs, alcohol, or any harder substances, she does enjoy the endorphin rush she gets from murdering others a hair too much.

Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?

Queenie is happy to pretend that she’s frightened of things to endear herself to others, but she’s actually fairly rugged and has few phobias.

One phobia that she really, truly has is taphophobia -- the fear of being buried alive by mistake and later waking up in one’s own coffin. She rarely has nightmares, but when she does, this is most often what they involve.

Is your character empathetic?

In the sense that she can easily read and play off of the emotions of others, yes; however, she rarely uses this talent for good.

Is your character observant?

Extremely. Every waking moment of Queenie’s life -- even when it seems as though she is completely relaxed and at ease -- involves her analyzing everyone and everything around.

Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first?

Queenie is quite an able learner, whether through lecture and observation or hands-on experience.

What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves?

”Oh, no, absolutely, Mrs. Redmond,” Queenie was saying, smiling broadly, her voice oozing with saccharine sweetness. “I completely understand. I’ll make sure to speak to Hunter about making better choices. Yes, ma’am. You have a great day yourself!”

The transformation took mere seconds. Almost as soon as she’d exited her daughter’s classroom, leading the blonde, dimpled, tomboyish second-grader by her hand, Queenie’s pleasant expression vanished -- quickly replaced by knitted brows, pursed lips, and a fire burning behind the Ultimate Southern Belle’s blue eyes.

”Mama,” piped up Hunter, looking up at her mother, clearly alarmed. “Are you mad at me?”

Queenie glanced down at her, and her expression softened. “’Course not, sweet pea!” she cooed, quickly, patting Hunter on the head. “I’m mad at your rotten, no-good, ain’t-got-half-a-brain teacher; that’s all.”

”... You are?” Hunter’s eyes -- hazel and stormy, like her father’s -- clouded over with confusion. “But you was bein’ real nice to her.”

”Sugar pie,” said Queenie, opening the door to her pickup truck, lifting her daughter by the hips, and then placing her in the passenger seat and buckling her up, “Mama was pretending to be nice to Mrs. Redmond to make sure you didn’t get a referral for punchin’ that nasty boy. What’s his name?”

”Johnny,” replied Hunter, glumly.

”Johnny,” hissed Queenie, as she eased into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. “Common name for a common fool. Ain’t nobody who ever amounted to nothin’ was named Johnny.”

”What about John F. Kennedy?” said Hunter, smartly. “He was president.”

"Yes,” replied Queenie, “and then he got killed. See what happens?”

For a little while, conversation between mother and daughter paused, with just the soft crooning of a country radio station, the tires rasping against gravel, and the roar of the engine from keeping the truck’s interior from lapsing into total silence.

”... So,” ventured Hunter, after a few minutes, “I ain’t gonna get in trouble for punchin’ Johnny?”

”Absolutely not,” spat Queenie, adamantly. “The little creep deserved it. Pickin’ on that poor, helpless girl -- why, I bet you’re just about her hero after what you did!” The belle momentarily took her eyes off the road to flash her daughter a sly grin. “As a matter a’fact, I’m proud of you, darlin’.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide. “You is?”

“Mhm!” Queenie was merging onto the main thoroughfare, now, and the truck’s engine whined as she pushed down on the gas pedal and shifted into a higher gear. “You did what needed to be done, and you did it well. I had to work real hard to keep from grinnin’ when Mrs. Redmond said you broke that boy’s nose. That’s a good job.”

“But...” Hunter was clearly still rather confused as to why she wasn’t being punished. “Mrs. Redmond said that next time I should tell her if I see someone botherin’ someone.”

“And what do you think would happen then?” replied Queenie, as she sped up to pass a slow-moving tractor trailer. “That boy wouldn’t get nothin’ more than a slap on the wrist, and then he’d be right back to bullyin’ whoever he darn well pleased.” She shook her head, blonde, wavy hair shimmering in the afternoon sun. “No. The method you chose was much more effective, honey-bunches. I’ll bet you that Johnny ain’t gonna be bullyin’ no one else for a good long time. The only thing we have to work on...” The woman’s grin broadened. “... is makin’ sure that next time, you don’t get caught in the first place.”

“You’re gonna teach me how to be sneaky?” asked Hunter, amazed.

“Oh, pumpkin,” said Queenie, slyly, “your pappy and I are gonna teach you many things. But first...” She smiled, brightly. “Wanna stop for ice cream on the way home?”

“Yes, Mama!” exclaimed Hunter, and then mother and daughter headed off to Dairy Queen to have ice cream and learn all about subterfuge.

Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?

Queenie gets very jealous extremely easily, but she doesn’t feel bad about it.

What instantly irritates them or puts them in a bad mood?

Yankees fans, someone else winning something that she wanted to win, microwaveable dinners.

Are they harsh on themselves?

Yes, in the sense that she’s very driven and will push herself beyond what’s reasonable in order to achieve her goals.

Is your OC intended to be found generally attractive? Unattractive? Average? Is there a reason why?

Queenie is stunning -- in fact, she’s probably the most attractive of my Tabletonpa/DRxZE OCs. This is due to a combination of excellent genes and incredibly hard work -- in spite of regularly feeding others heaping helpings of fatty, fried food, Queenie herself follows an incredibly strict regimen of diet and exercise in order to maintain what she considers a figure worthy of the Ultimate Southern Belle.

Does your OC place much importance on their appearance? Do they feel confident in it?

Yes; see above.

What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

Meeting Dustin “Fujita” De’Vil inspired Queenie to cease her serial-murdering ways and live life on the (relatively) straight and narrow, so her biggest obstacle is probably resisting the urge to solve her day to day problems with brutal and lethal violence.

B. Social

Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Queenie understands the importance of respect, but doesn’t think about it in those terms. For her, it’s more of a tool than anything sacred.

Do they get frustrated when lines at places like pharmacies, check-outs, delis, banks, et cetera, are moving slowly?

Yes, but she’s pretty good at amusing herself by imagining the ways in which she could swiftly dispatch everyone else in line.

Under what situations would they get angry at servers, staff, customer service, et cetera?

As someone who understands the stress that can be involved in taking care of others, Queenie doesn’t really take her frustrations out on service staff. The only situation where she might do so is if a server were to act unpleasantly toward her husband or daughter.

Do they tip well? How easily can they be moved to not leave a tip?

Queenie rarely eats out, but always tips generously.

Do they hold doors open for people?

Yes.

Would your OC let someone ahead of them in line if your OC had a big cart and the person behind them had very few items?

Yes, she would, since she does her best to always project an outward image of Southern congeniality -- but internally, she’d be bitter about it.

How do they respond to babies crying in public?

Queenie is excellent at getting babies to stop crying -- whether it involves making goofy faces, holding them and murmuring to them, singing to them, or any of the other tried-and-tested methods, she always seems to find the one that works.

Is your OC considered funny? Do they believe they’re funny?

Humor isn’t a huge part of Queenie’s skillset, but she can be funny when the situation calls for it.

What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…

Queenie pays attention to many different sources of Southern comedy -- blue-collar comedy tours, “you might be a redneck” jokes, and so on -- but this is mostly so that she can laugh appreciatively along when someone makes reference to them, in the same way that she pays attention to sports or politics.

Does your OC find any “bad” or “mean” humor funny? Do they wish they didn’t?

Not really.

Your OC is running late to meeting someone: Do they let the other person know? Do they lie about why they’re late?

Queenie would let the other person know ahead of time, and then concoct a charming story about why she was late.

Your OC orders something to eat and gets their order done in a pretty wrong way, something they can’t just pick off or whatnot to correct, or something major is missing. What do they do?

Queenie would send it back, but in a polite way.

Do they have a large or small group of friends?

Queenie has a large group of what could charitably be termed “associates” -- people who she spends time with and acts warmly toward, but who she mostly uses, like chess pieces, to advance her own goals. Her number of actual friends is much smaller -- probably limited to her husband, her daughter, and a select few other Hope’s Horizon alums.

Do they have people they are genuinely honest with about themselves?

Her husband.

Does your OC enjoy social events, such as parties, clubs, et cetera..?

Yes! They’re kinda her whole deal, especially if she’s hosting.

Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix?

Queenie delights in being the center of attention.

C. Morality

Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Queenie does not have a moral code. She acts based on whether her actions will benefit her or not.

Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it?

Morals?

Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

Not really! Queenie is fairly smooth and quite capable of charming just about anyone, irrespective of their own ideologies.

Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

Queenie considers herself superior to just about everyone that isn’t a blood relative (or married to her).

Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

Yes, frequently.

What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so?

Queenie would bring them something home-made the next time she was in the area.

Do they believe people change over time? If so, is it a natural process or does it take effort?

Queenie herself has made quite a change over time, so she certainly believes that, with effort, it’s possible.

Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

... Morals?

D. Religion and Life and Death

How religious is your OC? What do they practice, if anything? If they don’t associate with any religion, what do they think of religion in general?

For the sake of appearances, Queenie takes her family to the local baptist church every Sunday -- but she is, in fact, agnostic.

Do they believe in an afterlife?

No.

How comfortable are they with the idea of death?

Funnily enough, for all the destruction Queenie has dealt in her life, she isn’t actually all that jazzed about dying.

Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?

Yes! She’d relish the opportunity to be the center of attention for the rest of time.

Do they believe in ghosts? If not, why? If so, do they think they’re magical/tie into their religion, or are they scientifically plausible?

Queenie does not believe in ghosts, but she’s fine with pretending to be scared by them if the situation warrants, and she knows plenty of ghost stories for telling around the campfire to her daughter’s scouting troop.

E. Education and Intelligence

Would you say that your OC is intelligent? In what ways? Would your OC agree?

Queenie is whip-smart -- academically, but also socially and in terms of “street smarts”.

Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

Queenie is strongest in interpersonal intelligence -- sensing the feelings and motives of others -- and weakest in existential intelligence -- pondering the mysteries of human existence.

How many languages do they speak?

Queenie’s first language is English, which she speaks quite fluently. She also speaks enough Spanish (with a heavy Southern accent, of course) to interact with the Ms. Florida of any given beauty pageant, who is often Hispanic.

Did they enjoy school if they went to it?

Queenie relished the social and extra-curricular aspects of school -- she was the sort of student who was on every possible club and team. Cheerleading, basketball, volleyball, debate, academic olympics, you name it.

She didn’t enjoy the academic aspects of school quite as much, but was a straight-A student nevertheless.

What’s their highest education level? Do they want to continue their education?

Queenie went on to get her bachelor’s degree; she triple-majored (!!) in event planning, hospitality, and business.

Do they enjoy learning? Do they actively seek out sources of self-education?

Queenie appreciates learning from a practical standpoint, but doesn’t especially enjoy it.

Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous?

Queenie’s notes are excellent, written in a loopy cursive and often with a glittery gel pen. She excels under pressure, and as such, she is a marvelous test-taker who experiences no nervousness during exams.

What’s one of your OC’s biggest regrets?

I like to think that, later in life, Queenie came to regret the acts of subterfuge and violence that dominated her childhood and adolescence.

A little.

F. Domestic Habits, Work, and Hobbies

What sort of home do they live in now, if at all? How did they end up there?

Queenie lives in a plantation house on a vast estate in Tennessee -- property that has been in her family since they settled in the United States from Scotland prior to the Revolutionary War.

What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

Queenie’s ideal home is pretty much the one she’s living in now -- a big place surrounded by nature.

Could they ever live in a “tiny home”?

She’d hate it. How can you throw a big party in a small house?

How clean are they overall with home upkeep?

Queenie’s house is consistently spotless. She employs a small compliment of waitstaff to help her take care of it.

How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Queenie is actually quite handy. She can put together furniture and appliances, perform basic maintenance on her pickup truck, build a tree-house for her daughter, and all manner of other difficult and laborious tasks. She’s quite good with power tools!

Fun fact: she learned how to use a table saw during an attempt to chop a body up into smaller pieces than usual. It was very messy, but ultimately successful.

How much do they work? What do they do? Do they enjoy it?

Queenie is an event planner, caterer, model, minor country music sensation, amateur dirt bike racer, and all manner of other fun Southern professions. In spite of all that, she balances her schedule out enough that she can spend plenty of time with Dustin and Hunter, her husband and daughter, respectively.

What’s their “dream career” or job situation?

See above.

How often are they home?

Queenie always makes sure that she has at least two days a week free, and is of course up early to make breakfast and home early to prepare dinner every day.

Are they homebodies and enjoy being home?

Queenie doesn’t mind being home, especially if she’s cooking or working on a project, but she loves being out in nature, too.

Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

Queenie is a talented singer and knows it.

What are some of their favorite things to do for recreation? How did they get into it? What part of it do they like the most?

Queenie enjoys swimming in, and sunning herself by, a lake on her property when she (rarely) has free time. She spends most of what would otherwise be leisure time playing with and raising her daughter, who she dotes on endlessly.

Would they enjoy a theme park?

Sure, but she doesn’t really seek them out.

G. Family and Growing Up

Is your OC close to their family?

Yes! Queenie was raised by a pair of perfectly normal parents: a lawyer (her dad) and a stay-at-home mother who both love her unconditionally and spoiled her rotten growing up. She’s also very close to her husband and daughter, of course.

Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?

See above.

Does your OC find their family supportive? If not, what would be an example why not?

Queenie’s family is very supportive of her!

What kind of childhood did your OC have?

Queenie’s childhood was quite eventful -- a constant flurry of activity. Gymnastics, cheer, cooking classes, ballet, music -- Queenie enrolled in as many and varied activities as she could, and was a consistently high achiever in everything she did.

And when someone rivaled her position at the top of the group, she literally murdered them!

Did they go through any typical phases growing up?

Queenie never really rebelled against her parents or went through the “moody teenager” phase -- she simply didn’t have a reason to.

Do they have any favorite childhood memories?

Queenie has many favored childhood memories -- this includes more normal ones, like winning a trip to a theme park for selling the most Girl Scout cookies, or coming in first place in a youth gymnastics tournament -- and more sinister ones, like the time, during a cake-making contest, that she ruined a competitor’s carrot cake by dumping salt in the batter; or the time she murdered a girl who tried to blackmail her into forfeiting a beauty pageant.

Queenie’s childhood was a wild ride!

Do they have any childhood memories they’d rather forget or be less affected by?

Queenie’s hands shook as she raised the opened bottle of bourbon above her abdomen -- and then, as the dark liquid splashed onto the gnarly, six-inch gash that ran along the right side of her stomach, she screamed through her teeth, frustrated tears streaming down her cheeks.

After three successful kills, someone had finally gotten the better of her -- for a little while, at least. She’d never have expected that Callie had it in her; the girl had always been so sweet, so quiet, so meek. When the creaking floorboard had given away the fact that Queenie was about to stab Callie from behind, she hadn’t expected her to turn, scream, “Not today, bitch!” and then wrestle her to the ground and cut her with her own knife.

Queenie had, of course, managed to wrestle the blade away -- and now Callie’s body lay in one corner, and her head in the other -- but still, it had been a close call. Too close. And now Queenie would have a scar for the rest of her life.

What’s more -- the pain hadn’t even begun. Grabbing a needle and thread that she’d retrieved, after crawling all the way across the room, from her sewing kit, she began to stitch the opening of that deep, gaping wound closed once again so that it would heal properly.

As she panted and hissed and tensed her muscles, she resolved to never forget this moment -- and to never get caught again.

H. Romance and Intimacy

What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?

Queenie is bisexual, which is something she’s been certain of since puberty. She pretends to be straight so as not to alienate her fanbase, but she has been intimate with a small handful of women who she’s sure, for one reason or another, would never tell on her.

Is your OC a thoughtful partner, in whatever aspect of that you want to cover?

Extremely! Queenie is a loving, caring, doting partner -- someone who would do anything, or hurt anyone, to ensure that her relationship remains in-tact.

Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right?

Queenie is a “plenty of fish in the sea” kinda gal who believes that one can potentially be compatible with many different people.

Does your OC believe in love in first sight?

Yes.

Does your OC believe in marriage (or their culture’s equivalent)?

Oh, yes. While a big part of her draw as a belle was, for some time, the fact that she was single, settling down with a handsome fella also proved to boost her appeal with a new demographic.

Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on?

I’m sad to say that, yes, Queenie is one of my two characters who has been unfaithful, Reed being the other one.

While she’s never cheated on her husband, Dustin, there was a period of time in her teens where she dated a very wholesome boy with whom, for the sake of publicity, she had a pact of abstinence -- this is where her “purity ring” token comes from.

However, I imagine Queenie as the sort of person who wouldn’t have minded sating her libido with other partners during that time-span, since she didn’t think of her relationship as a “real” one and would’ve assumed similar intentions from her boyfriend.

She was surprised at how devastated he was when she dumped him later on.

What do they look for in partners? (Emotionally, mentally, physically…)

Physical attractiveness is important to Queenie, since it’s something she focuses on maintaining in herself a lot. What’s more important, however, is that her partner is as totally, utterly, and irrationally devoted to her as she is to them. Fortunately, Dustin fits the bill!

What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?

Anything from dancing at a lovely gala, to muddin’ and fishin’ out in the Tennessee wilderness, to making lightning bug lanterns and stargazing in her backyard. Queenie’s pretty versatile!

What are some things that your OC finds to be an instant turn-off in potential partners?

Boring people. Queenie loves seeing people who lead exciting lives, or who have interesting skeletons in their closets (like her).

I. Food

What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera?

When a lot of people think about Southern food, the first things to come to mind are fried food (especially chicken) and barbecued food (especially beef and pork). However, the South actually has a rich and varied culinary tradition! As such, it would be difficult to identify a flavor profile that Queenie doesn’t like or use in her cuisine.

Do they have any eating requirements or preferences? Allergies, vegetarian, organic-only, religious restrictions…

Definitely not.

Are they vegan/vegetarian (if their overall culture/species generally aren’t)? If so, why? Do they think animal products are wrong in all circumstances?

Queenie is absolutely not vegan.

How often do they cook? Do they order out a lot?

Queenie almost never orders out and cooks very nearly every meal that she and her family eat.

Are they a good cook?

Superb.

Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly?

Queenie enjoys varying what she eats not just for variety in taste, but also so that she doesn’t get bored of cooking the same thing over and over.

J. Politics, Current Events, Environmental Aspects

Where does your OC stand most politically? What would they align with most?

Queenie thinks of herself as being center-right -- and intentionally gives off the impression that she is staunchly right-wing -- but is generally more of a centrist, primarily because she is a strong proponent of environmental conservation and LGBTQ+ rights.

How politically aware are they?

Queenie has something of an average awareness of politics -- it isn’t her focus, but she still reads the news when she eats breakfast.

How politically active are they?

Not especially. Queenie votes, but that’s about it.

Is your OC the sort to fall for fake news? If not, do they ignore it or make a point to clarify that it’s wrong?

Queenie is far too sharp to fall for “fake news”, but she’s also perfectly willing to pretend to believe in it and propagate it if it will endear her fan-base to her.

Are they or would they protest for a cause they’re passionate about?

Not really, no. Protesters are not generally looked upon fondly in the South.

How do they react to people whose political viewpoints are very opposite of theirs?

Queenie can act very politely indeed toward just about anyone; however, more often than not, she believes that her political opinions are correct and that anyone who feels otherwise simply isn’t as refined and intelligent as she is.

How much interest in environmental health do they have?

A good deal of interest! The natural world is very important to Queenie.

In reality-based or applicable worlds, do they believe in global warming? Do they recycle?

Queenie both believes in global warming (though she’d never say she does) and recycles. She even has a compost heap on her property.

L. For the Writer/Owner

How have your characters changed since you created them?

Queenie has always been an amoral, dangerous serial murderer, but I found that I made her a little battier than I intended at first when I was roleplaying her. That turned out to be really fun, so now it’s just a part of who she is.

What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Death, mental illness, the duality of man, Southern luxury.

Did you create the character to be like yourself, did they end up being like yourself, or are they very different from you?

Queenie is pretty damn different from me, which is part of why she’s so fun to play. I’m not ruthlessly ambitious in the way she is, so it's been very entertaining to step out of my comfort zone.

Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

Maybe if I had an armed guard and a food tester.

How did you come up with your OC?

I actually came up with Queenie as a result of my fascination with Hillary Clinton. To be clear, I voted for HRC in the 2016 elections and I do not think that she’s an insane serial killer, but I do find it really interesting that there’s the public HRC, who is this smiling, grandmotherly figure who is also very professional and politically competent -- and then there’s the HRC who viciously discredited the women that accused her husband of sexual harassment, who was allegedly so unpleasant toward the Secret Service agents tasked with guarding her that only rookies who weren’t familiar with her were willing to take the job, and who is often the subject of off-color jokes about her rumored bisexuality.

I thought it would be interesting to create a character with a similar sort of duality, but taken to a ridiculous extreme. Thus, Queenie “Carolina” McMason, the Ultimate Southern Belle / The Carolina Reaper, Infamous Serial Killer was born.

#Queenie McMason #Carolina #The Carolina Reaper #DRxZE

5 notes · View notes