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jo-harrington · 1 year ago

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As Above, So Below - Prologue: Annunciation

Prequels: Heaven - Hell - Purgatory

Summary: Burdened by a centuries-long curse, you must follow the path fate has set for you and defeat evil that roams the Earth. You've left everything your heart desires behind to follow this path, and unfortunately, it still isn't enough. Fate has other plans for you, and for your love, Eddie Munson.

Word Count: 6.9k (nice)

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (Told in 2nd Person POV - you/your)

Warnings/Themes: Violence, Death/Suicide, Torture, Body Horror, Blood, Established Relationship, Romance, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: Welcome to As Above, So Below, my take on Kas!Eddie fic and a story inspired by Van Helsing (2004). This story has 3 prequels linked above that I highly recommend you read as this story will reference them.

This story is going to be EXTREMELY HEAVY to write, so I will not be putting out a posting schedule. Chapters will get posted as they are completed, however long that takes.

Please keep in mind, although this is an OC fic, our Knight will not be named or have physical descriptions noted. She is of European/Italian-American descent on her father's side. She was raised Roman Catholic, but her beliefs are very loose and you will see why if you read. You are free to imagine her as you wish. But her cultural identity will be referenced in this story, at least at the beginning and the end.

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

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“Do not be afraid […] for you have found favor with God […] With God, nothing will be impossible.” — Luke 1:28-37

March 25th, 1986

In your short time on this earth, you had certainly seen a lot. Mysteries of the universe were made known to you, you'd encountered heroes and villains alike—monsters, even—and been to many places, far and wide.

But you could honestly say that you had never set foot in a lair before today.

And, truly, lair was the only word you could use to describe this place.

Vaulted ceilings, marble floors, velvet curtains. There was an elaborate organ set up on a platform and an ominous set of stairs that descended deeper into the ground at the far end of the room.

Eddie would say this looked like something out of a C-list horror movie or a James Bond film.

You were already deep enough as it was; you'd navigated through an abandoned old mansion and the Los Angeles County sewer system just to get here. To anyone else, it would have seemed as though it took some divine intervention to find this place at all, but the divine is what you knew best.

Archbishop Jinette had given you minimal information to stop the evil that was at play. A ritual to bring forth a River of Life that would flood the San Gabriel Valley and kill millions. More importantly, to Jinette at least, it would create a rift in the fabric of reality that would cause a surge of Heavenly Power to flow freely throughout the Earth.

The Church never cared about the details, didn't care if a sacrifice or two came about, as long as their power remained safe. So the Who's and How's and Why's were left up to you. Thankfully your adversary had been careless with the clues he left behind.

You couldn't tell if it was a coincidence or not. Easter was a few days away so a River of Life made sense but surely a ritual that mirrored the ten plagues of Egypt would be more fitting a little closer to Passover.

"Doctor," you called out, your voice echoed through the cavernous room. You gripped your weapon—a nightstick taken off the body of the police officer that had been swarmed by locusts—and ventured forwards. "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help."

"You are not here to help," a stiff, croaking, disembodied voice reached your ears, filtered through some sort of unseen sound system. "You're here to stop me."

"Stop you from killing anymore innocent people," you explained.

"One remains," the voice replied. "Nine shall die. Nine eternities in doom."

"It will be a lot more than that if you don't stop whatever it is you have planned." You tried to reason with him, but you were met with silence. "Doctor! Doctor Phibes!"

Music suddenly blasted through the sound system and the room went dark, the only source of light came from whatever lay at the bottom of the stairs.

You knew the doctor wasn't done talking, he was just luring you deeper into his web to tip the playing field in his favor. You both knew there was no time to waste, so you walked into the trap willingly, with swift feet and a brave, but possibly foolish, heart.

Below the cavernous lair was an even bigger cavern still; a half-finished room with the same marble floors that suddenly gave way to rock formations and stalagmites and an underground river that offered a steady roar of rushing water. You didn't know where to rest your eyes, there were too many carefully crafted horrors laid out before you.

An altar with a body carefully placed atop it, a series of nine half-melted wax busts, a four-piece jazz band comprised of mechanical figures, a sterile area with a surgical table, and a ragged man who was elbow deep in another person's chest cavity.

A heavy hand clamped on your shoulder and you jumped to find the elusive Doctor Anton Phibes behind you. He was an imposing man who towered above you, his face sallow, waxy, and sagging. His red-rimmed eyes were bright with lively mischief, although his aura was heavy with the infernal stench of death.

You expected him to speak, but he simply tilted his head forward and urged you towards the altar. Not a question or suggestion, but an order.

You quickly weighed the possibility that if you killed him, struck him down, the ritual would simply end. Of course, then came the equally possible outcome that it would only hasten it.

Phibes pushed you the last bit of distance until you fell against the altar table itself and came face to face with the body resting there. You knew a dead body when you saw one, and generally you disagreed when people said they looked as if they were sleeping....this one however...she was peaceful in her eternal rest.

Face was full and serene, plump lips painted a succulent violet, with long, kohl-laden lashes that kissed her blush-dusted cheeks. Her skin was glowing and her long black hair had been fluffed and haloed around her. Her hands were folded below her chest and a lovely bejeweled ring glinted in the light of the candles that flickered from beside her on the altar.

The woman was preserved perfectly. Unnaturally.

"She's beautiful," you muttered.

"My wife," Phibes' voice croaked from beside you. You glanced over your shoulder to find that he had held a cord that ran from a porthole in the side of his neck to a phonograph-like speaker beside him. "My Rose. Taken from me far too soon, stolen from me."

"My God, please help my son," came an echoed mutter from the sterile area across the room. The surgeon had his bloodied hands folded in prayer as they rested on his patient's chest.

"Murdered!" Phibes voice grew louder and wrathful. "Don't cry upon God, Dr. Vesalius. He is on my side."

"And how do you know He's on your side," you questioned and Phibes' eyes cut back to you.

"He led me here," he explained. "Showed me the way in the quest for vengeance. Showed me the key to resurrection for my beloved and eternal life for us both. I plan to move Heaven and Earth to achieve it."

"Who are you to resurrect her?" you asked. "To bring about devastation for your wife? Is that His plan? The death of millions for the life of one?"

"He told me of you too, little Knight," he ignored your question. "It's how I knew to expect your arrival. He told me that you would appear to stop me."

"You're not only here to enact God's plan but to prophesize as well?"

"He said you would be the last step in bringing me back to my beloved Rose."

"So I must die too?"" You shrugged. "I'm the ninth?"

"No," he croaked. "Vesalius. Or rather, his wretched son. You must complete the ritual."

"I could kill you instead."

"Oh, but virtuous little Knight, I'm already dead." He released the cord and lifted his hands to his face. He peeled the waxy flesh and the tufts of hair on his head to reveal a twisted and burnt husk beneath. He was skeletal, barely a visage left; his nasal cavity shook with each labored breath and his exposed jaw clenched every so often.

Phibes inserted the cord into the porthole once again.

"I lost everything," he explained. "I lost my life, my purpose. And just when I thought it was enough, I lost my love too. I asked myself over and over: what was God's plan in taking it all away from me, in the blink of an eye? All at once? When I decided I would do anything—sacrifice anything—just to bring her back, He showed me the path and I took it. Wouldn't you? If you'd lost your love, what wouldn't you do, give, to get them back?"

A bitterness settled deep in your gut.

What did he know? What didn't he know? What was God's plan?

You'd asked yourself this many times over the course of your life, had become desensitized to the constant lack of an answer. Fate was an answer you couldn't stomach anymore.

So you had tried to run from it, only to collide with it instead. Fate cruelly led you to Eddie, and then away from him again...to protect him from the pain that was your damned life.

Yes, you would have done anything for him, even let him go. Love, for you, had to wait so that Fate wouldn't have been tempted to take him away.

Like it had for Phibes and Rose.

As you turned and stared down at Rose again...you felt for them...you truly did.

"Do you know resurrection takes more than just...some fancy ritual?" you asked Phibes. You could hear his feet shuffling closer to you. "It's unpredictable. The soul...the soul needs to be put back together, and by the time they ascend...or descend..."

"Rose was an angel," Phibes interjected and insisted. "My angel. My muse."

"...sometimes it's too late. How long has it been?"

"4 years."

"The ancient Egyptians had it right," you explained. "The Ka, the Ba...the Ahk...to put her back together after this long...would be impossible. Moving Heaven and Earth? More like breaking the walls between them. We could complete this ritual and resurrect her, but even still I don't think she would be whole ever again. She'd never really be your wife."

"And when would I have had to..."

"24 hours...48, maybe?" you offered.

Phibes' eyes slowly shut and he let out a painful hissing noise you could only attribute to a wail, or whatever equivalent his body could produce.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, hoping to provide some sort of balm on his wounded spirit. "But she's in Heaven...waiting for you."

You moved out of the way as Phibes collapsed on the altar and spoke in garbled tones to Rose's body, the cord pulled out of the porthole. Whatever confession in his mind was just for them.

You immediately ran across the cavern to Dr. Vesalius and his son. The surgeon sobbed his thanks to you as you began to work on the younger man. You didn't get the opportunity to heal others often—you were used more as an instrument of destruction than one of renewal—though the capability was always there. You dug deep into the celestial light within you and slowly his wounds knit back together.

Once Lem regained consciousness, Vesalius tugged at the restraints. Another spark of your power severed the chains and set the boy free and before long, father and son scampered up the steps and out of this pit of despair.

Vesalius had grabbed your hand before they had, though.

"Thank you," he said. "You're a hero."

No...you were nothing of the sort.

You walked back to the altar to check on Phibes, only to find his form still as it lay next to his wife.

"Doctor?" you shook him. "Doctor?"

You pushed him onto his side and a knife clattered to the marble floor; you balked at the needle in his arm and a slash in his wrist that lazily dripped...dripped...dripped...

Tubes ran out from the needle and embalming fluid rapidly replaced blood. It hadn't been that long for you to heal Lem had it? Had this always been Phibes' plan if the ritual failed? He was sure that you would be the one...the last step in reuniting him and Rose.

You touched his chest and closed your eyes.

Eight were dead but the first born son lived. The ritual was unsuccessful. The secrets of what really happened would stay buried deep below the city.

You could feel it...the ambient energy stirring around Phibes...slowly leaking from every pore of this mortal prison as his body died and he began his ascent. Anton and his beloved Rose would spend eternity together.

He was a good man, a loving man, led astray...and God was willing to forgive him and let him into Heaven.

You looked around the room again and felt sick.

For all the money that the Catholic Church had, the best they could afford when they sent their attack dog—you—to save the world for the umpteenth time was a crappy roadside motel off the 101.

You were used to uncomfortable plane and train rides, questionable motels and cots shoved into the corners of storage rooms in monasteries and missions when space could be spared.

This was your life though.

You had run from the safety of your Nonna's home when you turned 18 and then again from your little apartment in Hawkins a little over a year ago after Fate finally caught up to you. The next closest thing to...a base of operations, if you could call it that, was a tiny, unkempt bungalow house in a small suburb in Chicago that you barely set foot in because evil reared its ugly head a little too much.

Home was not a luxury you could afford, and even if it was...for you, it wouldn't have been a place, it would have been a person.

So you took comfort after a trying assignment in crappy gas station food and lumpy beds because it reminded you of the home you wish you didn't have to leave behind.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaimed as you kicked the door to your room open and found an unexpected visitor sitting crosslegged on the bed you hadn't claimed for yourself. He held a stack of palm branches in his hand, a small pile of folded crosses placed neatly beside him.

"Watch the way you talk," he began. "Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth."

"Is it not a little...weird for you to quote the Bible?" you asked.

"I didn't write it," he replied simply.

"Well your boss did." You fell onto the unoccupied bed and sighed. You didn't know if it was just the adrenaline finally wearing off after a successful end to your task—if you could call it successful—or something else. Something within you felt like you were...trapped under water.

"He did not either," he dismissed and went back to folding crosses. "You're planning to visit the cemetery." It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Before Easter, if Jinette doesn't have another errand for me to run." You fished a bottle of YooHoo from your bag of snacks and offered one to him. His lips quirked and in a blink, all of the palms were folded into neat crosses and he was on his feet.

"Good." He stared at you blankly, expectantly, and it made you feel claustrophobic.

His presence was greater than what was apparent to the naked eye, and in times like these where he was about to spring something on you, your soul could sense the swell of his being. It never got easier.

"I know this isn't a social call or a job well done for preventing the destruction of the Earth for the hundredth time," you begin and cover your face with your hands. "I'm tired, so if you could please just—"

"You say that a lot," he noted.

"What?"

"That you're tired."

"It happens when you're a human," you retort.

"Then you will do well to listen to me now," he says gravely. You peek through your fingers to look at him. "Something is coming. Something bigger than you've ever encountered before."

"Shit, really?" you asked. "When will I have to go?"

"You won't," he stated with an air of finality. "Or else, you will die."

Your hands fell from your face as your ears started to ring and your pulse pounded in your head.

You'd heard many warnings in the past, throughout your life, from him. Pain, suffering, duty. This was the first time he had ever warned you of your death.

Why now? After all of the other missions you'd been given, after facing Hell on Earth dozens of times...

You always knew it was a possibility...but a guarantee?

"W-when...why...when?"

"Soon."

That was helpful. You couldn't even prepare. It would be sprung on you. The next time you were called into action maybe? Or the time after that?

"So I just...I tell...tell Jinette o-or whatever Bishop that I can—” you stammered and he cut you off.

"This is not something that they will ask you to do," he explained. "This is something you will feel compelled to do. Strongly compelled. But you must heed my warning, young one. For you will perish and damnation will surely await you."

"I don't understand," you squeezed your eyes shut. "Isn't...isn't it already awaiting me? What makes this any different?"

"Because it will hurt. It will destroy you." What would...the task? Or the damnation? There was a rustle of wings and a roar of fire in your ears. "Do not be afraid."

They were words you had never heard from his mouth, but you knew he had said them before.

When you opened your eyes, he was gone, and you were left in the motel room alone.

"Gabriel?" You called for him, like you used to when you were a child and nightmares of monsters and demons plagued you. When you used to look for comfort when your father was off on a quest so similar to your own and your mother had no way to sooth you on her own. "Gabriel!"

March 27th, 1986

You knew from the moment you woke up that morning, something was off. As though you were operating on a different frequency than usual. You felt simultaneously sluggish and as though lightning surged just beneath your skin.

It didn't happen often, if ever really, which is what caused some alarm.

Perhaps when you were much younger and your abilities began to manifest. The holy light within you couldn't be contained by such a young body. It had led to massacres and miracles alike.

You remembered seeing Empire Strikes Back for the first time and feeling a kinship with Luke. "Luminous beings are we, not this cruel matter," a phrase you muttered to yourself often, taking comfort in the Light, when your future could only possibly be shrouded in Darkness.

It had taken years to control it, and you were well past grown now, but somehow you couldn't just shake the feeling that plagued you today. It was as though your fight or flight response was primed and ready, despite no danger in sight.

If Archbishop Jinette was any sort of reliable figure in your life, you would have confided in him. Looked to him for guidance. For help. Instead, you'd sat in his office with him for the past hour as he debriefed and lectured you—reamed you—for your handling of Phibes and the ritual.

"It was, quite frankly, irresponsible," he said for the tenth time. His cassock swished around him as he paced before you. "The number of innocent lives that could have been lost."

You rolled your eyes, fully of the belief that he wouldn't have given a shit about any other lives lost at all. You used to give Jinette—give all of your handlers—the benefit of the doubt, used to believe that they cared about innocents. Maybe they had once, but now it was twisted by the power their positions afforded them.

Once they donned a pectoral cross, guilt no longer affected them. It was only a tool used to bend others to their will.

"How can we rely on you to your duty fully if you take the time to negotiate?" He asked. "If you try to reason with agents of evil?"

"Phibes was not evil. He mentioned that God led him to this path," you interjected, and Jinette stopped in his tracks. "That He led Phibes to the ritual in order to reunite him with his wife."

"They would be reunited in Heaven," Jinette dismissed with a hiss. He turned his judgmental, wet eyes to you and glared pointedly. You knew exactly the warning he was trying to convey and you straightened your shoulders.

"It must have been the devil in disguise. Trickery. You, more than anyone, should know how easy it is to fall for temptation." The burn of his stare became righteous, but it was not what caused you to turn your eyes downward.

Was temptation really so bad if it brought you peace? If it made you feel more whole than you'd ever felt in your life? A year with Eddie and you felt sure in your skin, safe, loved. Was that bad? Did that make you evil?

You had let your pain get the best of you in the moment, but after a few days of clarity...Phibes had been right...

What you wouldn't give right now to be back there? To be anywhere but here?

It was regret.

There was a sharp knock at the office door and Jinette sighed and looked at the clock.

"It is time for Mass," he announced. "Think on your sins and the Lord may offer his forgiveness."

After he vacated the office, you forced yourself to your feet, trudged through the rectory, and into the cathedral where you slid into one of the last pews. You would hardly consider yourself a devout attendee—certainly not as you disassociated through the psalms and readings—but you knew if you missed Mass after your supposed sins, there would be Hell to pay.

"...Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world. He loved his own in this world and he loved them til the end..."

You'd heard this Mass before, the Mass of the Lord's Supper. Not your typical Sunday service, so you couldn’t recite it verbatim, but familiar enough. Your Nonna dragged you to as many masses as she could, in every language offered at the local parish, hoping to spare you of this fate in a way she couldn't spare her son or her husband.

Over the years, her hand shrunk in yours. What was once a healthy, strong hand that guided you became small and weak, shriveled and brittle. Until one day, there was no hand left to hold at all.

"...I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do."

You spotted a group of women further up the aisle. Novitiates, probably. You could sense a tenuous peace about them. One could tell she was being watched and she turned to look at you. She was young, maybe around your age, and her eyes were wide and curious.

You tried to smile at her, encourage her—it was all you could do not to scream, actually—but she rolled her eyes a little and turned back around.

The sound of rustling bodies washed through the Cathedral like a wave as everyone got to their feet—

"Pray my Sisters and Brothers that my sacrifice and yours should be acceptable to God, The Father, Almighty."

—and as you rose, your stomach dropped.

Your body burned.

It felt like a thousand cuts were made along your skin. You gasped for breath but could find no air. Your bones cracked and crunched beneath an invisible weight, and the pressure felt as though your sides would split and your insides spill out through phantom wounds.

You fell to your knees and grasped the back of the pew in front of you. You tried to make a noise, to call for help, but nothing could overcome the rumble of the congregants.

"Lord have Mercy. Christ have Mercy."

The polished wood splintered under your grip before the world went dark.

When your eyes opened, you were met with a muted haze. A dark sky, with clouds that shifted in tandem with the howling wind, sizzled with infernal lightning over and over.

You laid on cold, damp ground. You could feel it seep through your clothes and leech into your skin, deeper and deeper, until it settled uneasily in your bones. An acrimonious rigor that would have overtaken you had you allowed it.

Something deep within your subconscious wanted you to.

You needed to gain control quickly.

Your fingers dug into the thick, unforgiving clay of the earth beneath you, and you pushed yourself upright, only to be met with a chilling sight that made your heart stop in your chest.

His was body was aligned with yours, the soles of his feet just inches away from brushing against you. His skin was pale and smeared with gore, and his ripped clothes belied the true extent of his injuries. He choked on his blood with fit of coughs, too wet for a death rattle. He was practically drowning in his own life's essence.

Eddie Munson lay dying in front of you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Your mind raced. Was this a vision? A prophecy? The gift of sight had never been one you could tap into before. Why now?

Was this a warning? If you didn't stay on the path He had in store for you, didn't listen to those He tasked to guide you, would this be your future?

You could hear a voice—an ominous, venomous voice—at the very corners of your mind, speaking to Eddie.

They left you behind. Left you to this fate. Left you to me.

What did that mean? You didn't leave Eddie. Not really. A part of you would always be with him.

You struggled and scrambled to get to his side. Your hands were unsure of where to touch him, how you could let him know you would be there without bringing him more pain.

He looked up at you with unseeing eyes.

"Eddie, please, please," you begged. "I'm here, I'm here with you."

His eyes wrenched shut and he cried out, mouth opening in a feral, heartbreaking howl.

To do with you what I please.

You knew it wasn't the Devil's voice. He wouldn't taunt and tease this way. It had to be some other malevolent creature who tried to get an innocent soul in its' clutches.

You closed your eyes and concentrated, tried to pour as much of your light into Eddie as you could, but despite his body being torn open the way that it was, he simply would not receive the help you could give.

You knew you couldn't leave him.

But Eddie was already gone.

And do to you, I shall...

When you came to, mass was over.

The closing hymn, heavy with organ song, rang throughout the cathedral as the procession made its way back up the aisle. You watched as Jinette glared at your prone form, laying on the pew, as he passed, but a light voice offered a distraction.

"Slowly, there you go, wake up," it said. A small, strong hand shook your shoulder then carefully tapped your face. "Sister Margaret went to call an ambulance."

"No," you groaned. "No ambulance. I'm fine." You immediately tried to push yourself upright, but the hands held you down to the pew.

"Don't get up, I don't know if you hit your head."

"I don't think so," you muttered. The pain that had wracked your body was nothing but a memory, a tell tale static that surrounded you, much the same way it would if your foot fell asleep.

You finally got your wits about you and found that your savior was the young woman you spotted earlier. Hell, if she didn't already think you were some creep off the street who'd wandered into the cathedral before...

"You're a part of the Order, right?" she asked disarmingly and pointed down to the small medallion that must have escaped from the confines of your shirt when you collapsed. Your hand immediately went to it and tucked it back into its hiding place; it was a reminder...a shackle. "A Knight of the Holy Order. Mother Superior said to steer clear of you if we ever crossed paths with you. She didn't say much else.

"I never thought I'd see one...just...pass out during mass."

"We're normal people," you sighed. "Not...Gods."

"Saints?"

"Sinners," you clarified and she laughed lightly.

"Yeah, me too" she agreed then frowned again. "Do you feel well enough to sit up?”

"I'm fine, just...tired," you explained and pushed her away from you. "I need to get back..."

"Back home?" she asked eagerly.

"Back to my motel." You got to your feet as the organ music stopped and the last few stragglers left. "Thank you for staying with me..."

"Oh...uh...Mary...Victoria..." she provided her name and you must have made a face. "I'm still working on it. I know I have time. But Victoria was my grandmother's name...so..."

"Well, I think it's a lovely name then," you offered a tight smile and your own name, then shuffled past her to make your escape. "See you around Mary Victoria."

March 30th, 1986

In the days following Holy Thursday, something was still off.

You had woken up the following morning with a sore jaw and a hoarse voice. Sometime later that day, you'd started crying blood. Only for an hour, but there was no controlling it. You were overwhelmed with emotion.

Hopelessness was the most prominent of them all.

You hadn't blacked out again, but something lingered beneath the surface. Given Gabriel's warning, you figured it would be best to lay low.

You knew it was a futile attempt to try and summon Gabriel again; he appeared when he felt like it or when it would best serve God.

The only time you’d ever desperately called for him, as fire almost consumed you and damp earth threatened to bury you alive, it had fallen on indifferent ears. It was then that you realized stories about Guardian Angels were just that: stories.

So instead, you went about your day as you typically would. Unless you were summoned somewhere by the clergy, they generally left you to your own devices. Especially on Holy Days like today.

Your plans for Easter Sunday specifically consisted of visiting the local cemeteries—

You would miss mass at the Cathedral today. Running your hands along the marble headstones and brass nameplates of those long-since-passed-and-forgotten and offering them a thought or two brought you more peace than any prayer or blessing would.

—and getting absolutely hammered.

You weren't a big drinker, really, since you typically were expected to have your wits about you. But it was a Holiday and you were far from home and alone. You made a blind choice at the liquor store on your way back from the cemetery, and it would numb you either to the point of blacking out, or make you give into your temptations to call Eddie.

You'd been thinking about him more lately.

Well...that was a lie, you always thought about him. Thought about calling, about visiting. You knew you couldn't trust yourself, so you did what you could to keep him safe. You skipped the letter M in the phonebook on the off chance he had finally made it out of Hawkins to follow his dream. Made it a point not to drive through Indiana if you could help it.

Maybe you didn't want to help it anymore. Maybe you should...maybe not visit...just call him.

Someone had left behind an honest-to-God glass in your motel room, and after a thorough cleaning, you poured yourself a helping of the nondescript amber liquid. It burned on the way down. Maybe it was a warning about the bad decisions that lay ahead of you.

You'd been tempted to call for his birthday last year, for Christmas...you sent a card. No return address, no name. Just a heart. You hoped he knew it was you because he always said your hearts looked like butts.

Another glass and you stood in front of the nightstand. You stared, transfixed, at the dingy rotary phone as you sipped your drink, savoring the burn this time. As if it had a mind of its own, your hand moved to grab the handset, but it just hovered for a moment.

How would Eddie answer? What would you say? What if it wasn't Eddie at all, what if it was Wayne? What if Wayne told you...that Eddie was spending Easter at a girlfriend's house? What would you do? What could you do? You practically forced him to say that he would wait for you...could you really blame him if he didn't?

Next to the phone was the remote for the television.

You hadn't really left him much hope after all.

You grabbed the remote and mindlessly aimed it behind you to turn the small set on. As it came to life and started bleating a commercial for some local restaurant, you momentarily prayed that it wasn't one of those Biblical epics, like The Greatest Story Ever Told.

Instead, the commercial ended and, as you poured yourself one more glass, the sterile voice of a newscaster reached your ears.

"...currently 68 degrees at the Los Angeles Civic Center. Lovely weather for Easter Sunday. For our top story, we bring you live to our own Robert Gilroy in Roane County, Indiana. Rob?"

You turned in shock and stared, dumbfounded, as the screen flashed to show a severe man in a brown suit. He frowned at the camera while a convoy of cars inched by behind him. You couldn't help but notice plumes of black smoke in the distance and you hoped that it was just a defect with the cheap motel tv.

"Thank you Laura. It's been less than 48 hours since a 7.4 Magnitude Earthquake rocked the quaint town of Hawkins, 80 miles outside of Indianapolis in an event that seismologists are calling a natural disaster of near unprecedented scale."

A wash of colorful stripes rolled across the screen before it showed b-roll of people running and crying, of a team of firefighters desperately trying to extinguish the burning Hawkins Public Library building, that was half rubble anyway, a man in camo bandaging a little girl's leg.

"The death toll now stands at 22, but with hundreds more filling Roane County hospitals and many more still missing, officials expect those numbers to rise."

You immediately dropped your glass and turned back to the phone, fumbling with the rotary dial to input a number you knew by heart.

"Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up." You listened as the ringing went on and on and on. You hung up and dialed again, and you desperately hoped you just got the number wrong. You screamed as it didn't even ring, but blared a taunting busy signal. "No! No! Who are you talking to? Pick up!"

"This is only the latest tragedy to befall this once safe town. Most recently, a string of high school students were killed in a series of ritualistic murders which have been linked to a local Satanic cult known as Hellfire."

Your blood ran cold at the word Hellfire and you refused to look at the television.

There was more b-roll, some chitter chatter saying how the Hellfire boys were always up to no good. How some upstanding students were killed, taken too soon.

Your breathing got heavy, enough that you started becoming lightheaded. The alcohol didn't help at all.

You tried to savor the last few minutes of ignorance as you wrenched your eyes shut, because if you didn't see it. It wasn't real.

"Eddie Munson, the leader of this cult and prime suspect in the murders..."

But you knew. You knew that this was the moment. You knew that this was what Gabriel meant. If you went to Hawkins, if you had to fight for Eddie, you would do it in a heartbeat and you wouldn't stop until you died.

"...has been missing since the earthquake..."

Those seconds that the reporter needed to take his dramatic breath were an eternity, one you would savor. Because it was easier to pretend that the only thing you had to do was just stop yourself from going to Hawkins, stop yourself from being selfish and wrathful, to punish those who would accuse the sweet, dumb, foolish, clumsy, trustworthy innocent love of your life.

It was just easier if you still lived in a world where you didn't have to hear what you knew was coming next.

"...and is presumed dead."

People often mistook the power of heaven to be one of peace, of hope, of new beginnings. And it could be. It usually was. But they forgot that the beginning of one thing was also the end of something else.

Divine retribution, a burning smiting wrath, the like of which had leveled Sodom and Gomorrah, flowed freely with your grief. It was illogical and irrational and inexplicable to any mortal, including you.

You remembered screaming.

Remembered the pain of the bones in your fingers splintering as you dug them into your skull. Your nails cut deep into the flesh of your scalp as you peeled the hair and flesh, as you opened the top of yourself to release the pressure that had suddenly and violently built up in your core.

Glass disintegrated into sand, furniture turned to ash, even the frame of the building began to buckle.

But there was a voice that called your name. A soft, sobbing voice that pulled you back from the edge of whatever precipice you subconsciously teetered on.

"It’ll be ok. I’m here."

You could practically feel arms slither around you, the phantom weight of them pressed into your skin. Dextrous fingers wove together with yours, soothed them, healed them. They caressed your wounds and the broken flesh stitched itself back together.

A cool breath grazed your ear and the screams that ripped from you began to subside. It shushed you and said unascertainable words of comfort as your fury subsided into woe.

"Close your eyes. It'll all go away if you don't look."

"But you're gone," you wept. The tears rolled down your cheeks and over your lips. You sniffled and licked at them; blood, again. "Why?"

There was no answer. You were about to open your eyes, eager to see and not just to feel, but the fingers glided over your face again. Over your cheeks to wipe the blood from them, over your lips to play with the softness of them, then over your eyelids.

Places he liked to kiss...places you wished you could feel lips instead...wished you could know that he was there.

"I'll never really leave. Even if you can't see me. I’m here.”

Every fiber of your being wanted to go, would have walked to Hawkins, run til your feet bled, to find his body. To clear his name. To say goodbye.

To die a most miserable death. Like Phibes and his Rose.

You would leave this world, happily, if it meant you could be by his side. But there was no guarantee. You could toil for a lifetime and hope to join him, and still be denied access to Heaven.

“I’ll be waiting for you. As long as it takes. I’ll be here.”

You heard the lovely whisper of your name, over and over as you sunk to your knees and you curled in on yourself. Every second it faded into the depths of your mind, and you couldn't help but crack your eyes open.

Lightning struck, the firefighters would explain to you later, on a clear day. The building went ablaze and was destroyed, but all the rooms were empty except for yours. The paramedics said it was a miracle you weren't injured. They touched you lightly, almost reverently.

"Hallelujah."

You were alone again.

It was a disquieting procession.

The creatures moved in a way that seemed unnatural, unfamiliar to them. Their feet shuffled across the barren waste and they dragged a hulking beast behind them. It was a large and ominous and twitching thing, and although the formality of this event it felt like a funeral, you knew that you were witnessing a birth instead.

The wings conjured images of Beelzebub...but Asmodeus felt like a more fitting comparison given how familiar you were with the inner workings of its mind.

Thinking of him as Beast or It was wrong. It felt sinewy and astringent. A bite you were reluctant to take.

You bore witness for three days.

It took two to break him, but images would haunt your mind and your heart for eternity. You tried to protect him, tried to undo what was done. You offered him comfort and a place to hide when he desperately needed a break he would never get.

How he had survived it, you would never know? But he was always stronger than you; if not in body, then in spirit. You never lasted long before you were forced to pull him back in. If you had remained, given him a longer rest, you knew you would have broken before he did.

He finally begged for mercy. He finally relinquished his soul.

You would stay beside him. No matter what they did to him. No matter what he did to himself.

They dragged him to their pit to put him back together again, and you forced yourself to watch, to listen, and to pray that every addition and alteration would stick. That he wouldn't have gone through the torture only to perish so close to the end of it.

You wondered where prayers went when they were made in Hell. Did they reach God's ears? Were they intercepted by Lucifer and his court? Or did they just...float in the void of oblivion?

He muttered words, you'd even heard your name escape his lips several times before they filled his mouth with too many teeth to speak.

By the end of the third day, he rose again.

And you sobbed in relief because somehow the sight of him complete, the sight of him rising and blinking and roaring brought you more comfort and warmth and joy than you had ever felt in your cursed existence.

It didn't matter how grim of vision he was. There was a beauty in that too. The beauty existed...simply because he still did.

Whatever they did to him, he was alive, and he would always be your Eddie. And that meant you had a chance to save him.

“When you loved someone, you put their needs before your own. No matter how inconceivable those needs were; no matter how fucked up; no matter how much it made you feel like you were ripping yourself into pieces.” — Jodi Picoult, The Pact

Special thanks to @big-ope-vibes and @pastel-pillows who can read even though she says she does not. And @fracturedarkness who I am determined to destroy/delight with this story.

Next Chapter: Illumination

#vampire eddie munson #vampire!eddie #kas!eddie #Eddie Munson fic #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: religious themes #stranger things fic #tw: suicide

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oc-challenges · 1 year ago

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WELCOME TO THE OC HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE!

Calling all the monsters, it's time for the OC 2023 Halloween Challenge! This challenge has been hauntin' you for five years, and we're wantin' you to participate!

If you're new here, here's what you need to know: This is an event that takes place over the 31 days of October and presents oc creators with Halloween-themed challenges to get the creative juices dancing. It is open to creations for both fanfiction and original ocs, and if you want to participate you don't have to every one or even in order. It is brought to you by @purpleyearning / @aliverse, @elmunson, and includes suggestions by members of our discord! (special thanks to @endless-hoppington for helping with some descs)

Rules

DO NOT copy others edits.

If you are doing crossovers, PLEASE make sure that the creator of the other oc is okay with crossovers.

If you want your post to be reblogged onto this blog, it must contain the hashtag ohc2023.

Feel free to ask questions, I promise I’m more treat than trick.

Everything is up to the creators interpretation, although I have tried to include some examples for help!

Have fun!

RANDOM/THEMELESS (1st–5th) Some of the challenges that don't coincide with each other.

Day One: Life In Plastic

It's fantastic! Is your OC more of a Barbie or a Bratz? Maybe they go to Monster High, or they're an American Girl Doll with an inspiring story? Perhaps you want to make a Funko version of your OC? To put it simply, this day is about dolls as an ode to the best movie of 2023; Barbie.

Day Two: Lights, Camera, Action!

For day two, we're combining oc as canon, oc as celebrity, and oc's social media into one day where you get to choose which of those challenges you would like to do... maybe even all of them!

Day Three: Born In The Wrong Century

Movies depend on a lot of things, but time and place helps create the ominous feel for it. Like Crimson Peak that belongs to the revival gothic period of 1880s or Jason Voorhees waking up on a spaceship in the year of 2455, give your character(s) a new decade to explore and even monsters to face.

Day Four: Twisted

From reality episodes where two people experience switching roles with one another to an alternative reality where their roles are different from their home's universe, make your character experience life through a whole new perspective by making your hero the villain or your villain the hero.

Day Five: Vampires, Werewolves, and Witches... Oh My!

From Godzilla to Dracula to The Mummy, the monster-verse is rich with lore. Today we focus on those monsters that never go out of style, after all they’re called classics for a reason. Is your oc Frankenstein or his monster?

OH, YOU WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER? CAN I BE THE HELPLESS VICTIM? (6th–12th) Due to its popularity last year, we're bringing back the horror character tropes week.

Day Six: The Harmless Antagonist

Ah, a classic in more than just horror; the mean gorgeous holier-than-thou character; more specifics of this are often The Jock, The Cheerleader, The “Slut”, The Bitch, The Rich Kid, etc. While they may annoy the main character or make their everyday life difficult with academic rivalry or teasing, they’re really nothing compared to the new enemy; the thing or person killing everyone. Which one of your ocs is getting brutally knocked down a peg… or the stairs?

Day Seven: The Comedic Relief

Honestly, they make even the scariest movies bearable. They're almost never the main character but almost always the most liked. They say laughter is medicine for the soul, so which of your ocs soothes the characters and the situation with a joke made at the worst of times?

Day Eight: The Denier/Non-Believer/Skeptic

It doesn’t matter the subgenre, there’s always one. They don’t believe a killers out to get them or their friends despite the fast growing pile of bodies, they claim there’s a natural explanation for the supernatural event terrorizing everyone, they just refuse to get with the program. This often combines with the cop or older-than-everyone-else character. Which one of your ocs will get killed by their stubborness before their loyalty?

Day Nine: The Harbinger

We hear about omens of death in every kind of mythology. Irish folklore warns you of hearing the wailing woman and German myth tells you to never find your doppelganger. Even Western Society in America will drift from their path if they see a black cat on the way. So which of your ocs stands outside of the haunted house and tells the redheaded twins “you’re going to die in there”?

Day Ten: The Accomplice

You never saw it coming, but you should’ve. There’s not just one killer you have to worry about, there’s two. This is the person whose been helping the killer since the very beginning, pretending to be your friend the entire time until the plot reached its rising action. You’re heart broken and the very ground shakes under your feet, the good person you once thought you knew is gone… or worse, had never truly existed. Which of your ocs is not only willing to help a friend hide the body, but kill it too?

Day Eleven: The Killer

They’re haunted and bloodthirsty, compelling in a dangerous way. Everyone has a monster within but due to some tragic backstory of abuse, hate, or ridicule, these people – or things– let the monster win. Whether they done a mask or turn your dreams into sentient nightmares, they’re the main reason why anybody shows up to movie night. Which one of your ocs looks into the reflection of the knife in their hand, and pictures themselves chopping up human bodies instead of vegetables?

Day Twelve: The Final Girl

It’s all come down to this, the last stand. There’s two people left, or at least two important people left; the killer and the final girl. She’s fought tooth and nail, and grief has made way for rage. At first she was just another potential victim, now she’s in the killers way and she won’t go down easy. In the beginning she just wanted to survive, but like Laurie Strode now she wants revenge. Which oc becomes the monsters monster?

WRONG PLACE, WRONG TIME We're exploring classic horror locations. Throw your ocs into a horror story that take place in these locations, or make up your own story.

Day Thirteen: Have Killer Fun At Summer Camp! (Location: Summer Camp)

It's Friday The Thirteenth... literally. For today, the location is a summer camp like the one Jason Voorhees terrorizes. Counselor, killer, or camper? Whatever role your oc plays, they certainly didn't read this in the brochure.

Day Fourteen: Vacation Nightmares (Location: Hotel/Island/AirBnB, etc.)

An island that magically speeds up your aging, a hotel with corridors that lead to nowhere, a psychotic airbnb host; Today is about horror in locations that are supposed to be a break from the horror of everyday life, but instead introduces you to whole new horrors.

Day Fifteen: Home Is Where The Haunt Is (Location: House or Apartment)

A home can be a place to make memories and some memories leave a scar. Focus on your characters when a place they call home is threatened.

Day Sixteen: She Doesn't Like It In The Barn (Location: Farm/Ranch)

Samara Morgan was forced to stay in the barn's hayloft to keep her burning images out of her adoptive parents minds. Framer Graham Hess had to defend his home and family from aliens that threatened to kill his son. Pearl craved to be a movie star and experienced a psychotic break where she killed those who denied her her dream. What deadly passages does the farm bestow to your characters?

Day Seventeen: Death is a Mystery and Burial is a Secret (Location: Cemetery or Tomb)

Cemeteries and tombs are the places we put our loved ones to rest, but in horror movies we find that final resting places are not so restful after all. Whether it’s ghosts, zombies, psychotic gravekeepers, or grave robbers ensuring no witnesses; how do your ocs go from mourning to trying to survive until morning?

Day Eighteen: What's The Opposite Of Miracles? (Location: Places of Worship)

Places of worship are supposed to be places of good, where people go for guidance and safety, places full of good beings and devoid of sin. But what if the bad beings sneak in or the sinless place is just a hiding place for those full of sin?

Day Nineteen: This Won't Hurt A Bit (Location: Hospital and/or Asylum)

In season two of American Horror Story, we were welcomed to Briarcliff, an asylum that became ‘home’ to the misunderstood and the criminally insane. Much like other hospitals of the past, many attempts of healing were there to disguise the evil hiding in plain sight. How does your character deal when the place that was supposed to heal them becomes the place that harms them?

Day Twenty: The Trees Have Eyes (Location: The Woods/Forest)

Shadows of the trees cast illusions, the cracking of sticks cause hairs on the back of your neck stand. The wind howls which sounds of a voice, and the birds no longer sing. The woods are creepy, desolate, and you find yourself lost in the sea of their trunks. What happens when your ocs are stuck in the woods?

RANDOM OUTLIER

Day Twenty-One: I Want To Play A Game

Some of the most recent hits in horror history have been not movies, books, or shows, but video games. From Dead By Daylight to Until Dawn, horror fans have been able to experience immersion at a whole new level by trying to make all the right choices as a character. Now, it's time to put your oc into a horror game AU. Will they live, or will they die? Only their stats and choices will tell.

STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED (22nd–27th) Character tropes are fun and all, but for the next six days we're focusing on genre tropes.

Day Twenty-Two: Solitude Causes More Wounds Than It Was Meant To Heal (Trope: Isolation)

Fear is increased when one is alone by themselves, or cut off from civilization like an reclusive island. Focus on your characters in the horror of isolation; are they forced to recognize who they truly are on the inside? Do they practice the law of nature or nurture? Do they keep their morals or own laws?

Day Twenty-Three: The Apocalypse Is The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me (Trope: Apocalyptic)

Just as everything must begin, it also must end. This, unfortunately, includes humanity. What will happen when the world as your oc knows it ends, when that world goes from millions of people to tens or perhaps even one? Will they be forced to adapt, doomed to die, or perhaps even thrive?

Day Twenty-Four: You've Killed Me Before (Trope: Time Loop)

The best thing about the sun setting is that it will come up again in the morning, and a new day will begin. But what if the sun comes up and an old day begins? Whether your oc must solve their own murder, solve somebody else’s murder, or face difficult truths about those around them, it’s time to put them into a time loop.

Day Twenty-Five: Better You Die Than I (Trope: Doppleganger)

In real life, seeing your “doppleganger” is said to be an omen of misfortune or good luck. In horror movies, dopplegangers usually take a more direct approach in ruining the lives of their lookalike. Whether they’re an omen of bad things to come or trying to steal ones life, give your oc a doppleganger and explore the horrors of a stranger that shares your face.

Day Twenty-Six: No Wonder Everyone Keeps Invading You (Trope: Extraterrestrial)

Whether your oc was a believer before or not, life from another planet has arrived to Earth on this day. These so-called aliens come in all shapes, sizes, and colors; They can even come in a human disguise, as a deadly plant, as a machine, or even as little green men. No matter where they came from or what they look like, humanity is not ready for them. Whether we try to hurt them or they try to hurt us, how does your oc deal with extraterrestrial life on Earth and the problems this arrival presents?

Day Twenty-Seven: All Politics Is A Personality Cult Now (Trope: Cult)

What simply starts as a simple dinner meal, a visit to a secluded area where people celebrate, or deciding to reunite with the estranged side of your family, can easily be your steps toward a cult. Have your characters fight to stay alive against those who have welcomed them with sinister intent.

COSTUMES TELL A STORY

Day Twenty-Eight: Let's Be Weird Together

We all know of an iconic squad that so many people are just dying to be a part of. Well, it’s your ocs and their friends chance! Day 28 is group costumes!

Day Twenty-Nine: That Could Be Us

Love isn’t in the air but maybe it’s in the fabric of costumes! It’s time for couples costumes!

Day Thirty: I Can Be Anybody I Wanna Be

If your oc could be anybody, who would they wanna be? Well, for one night only, they can be! It's time for your oc to dress up!

TRICK OR TREAT!

Day Thirty-One: I'm Just Here For The Boos

Halloween is a time for tricks and treats, for ghost to walk among the living and us to disguise ourselves. But it can be killer, and the transference of evil can be achieved. Give your shape to another, gift them and you shall receive in turn. Ocpotluck awaits.

#origin post #ocappreciation #allaboutocs #h: 2023 #ohc2023 #halloween challenge #tw flashing lights #flashing lights tw #admin: ali

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spenglersglasses · 9 months ago

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✨🧪MASTER FIC LIST☄️✨

Complete List of links and tags for works posted on AO3!

Click on the name of fic to read! If you don't see something you are interested in, please feel free to send an ask when open as well as commission me through the heart mug site. Link in pinned post on main blog @copiousloverofcopia or carrd info at the bottom of this post!

Updates:

I will be adding more as I go. Check them out if you’re into Egon Spengler, Weyoun, Milton Dammers, Herbert West (like all Jeffrey Combs content lol), fluff and smut, you know all the things lol. Fics are listed by main Character featured in them, if it's a duo fic then the fic is listed under BOTH of them.

Asks/Requests- OPEN

Commissions- OPEN

Egon Spengler

Multi-Chapter Works:

🧫Observations in Love (ONGOING) >>> Egon & OC Molly Webber Things have fallen on hard times for the members of the Ghostbusters when the memory of saving the world from the threat of supernatural destruction fades in the minds of the city. Now, with each of them going their separate ways, Egon joins up with another scientist to share a lab so he can continue his experiments. When an innocent mistake by his lab mate leads to a mix up that could mean big consequences for Egon, he must choose whether or not to reveal the truth to Molly, the test subject or keep it secret forever. (NSFW-Fluff/Romance/Accidental Lovers/Pregnancy/Semi-canon following)

One Off Works:

The Twinkie Experiment No turning back now, you had already agreed to it. Agreed to whatever it was the dear former Ghostbuster and his newfound friend from Arkham would ask of you. You were more than happy to participate, that was until you took the first step onto the stoop leading to the lab. Only then you hesitated—breath quickening and your nerves firing from all sides. (NSFW-Breeding/Pregnancy/Three-way/Reader)

Weyoun

Multi-Chapter Works:

☄️Diplomacy (ONGOING) >>> Weyoun & Chercut Ara (Reader) As a Bajoran crew member of Deep Space Nine you know you should loathe the Dominion and their diplomat Weyoun. Despite everything, you are drawn to him and though you have tried to deny it everything changes when he comes to you with a proposition. (NSFW-Enemies to Lovers/Romance/Angst/Breeding/Pregnancy/Reader)

Milton Dammers

Multi-Chapter Works:

🕯️An Unlikely Pair (ONGOING) >>> Dammers & OC Zoey Weston Special Agent turned paranormal private investigator; Milton Dammers has mysteriously risen from the dead (after the events of the film), finding himself in a body bag in the morgue of the Fairwater Medical Center. Dammers has no idea of how he got back just glimpses of a woman dressed in black, haunting his mind. Now years after his mysterious return to physical form, he has continued his investigations into the occult and spiritual disturbances of the quiet town with the help of Frank Banister, who has become an unlikely friend. When one fateful meeting puts Zoey Westin in his path, Milton's life and changes forever. (NSFW-Romance/Angst/Pregnancy/Paranormal/Gore/Violence)

Herbert West

Multi-Chapter Works:

💉Playing God (Coming Soon!) >>> Herbert West & Danielle Cain When Miskatonic University medical student Danielle Cain rents a room to a newly transferred classmate Herbert West, upon his transfer from Switzerland her life turns upside down. Turns out West is a bit of a mad scientist, wanting to create life—at any cost. (NSFW-Angst/Romance/Gore/Violence/Horror/Breeding/Gender-swapped Dan/Semi-canon following)

One Off Works:

If you would like to commission me or check out my other social media, please see my carrd linked below:

(*carrd is linked to my main blog on Tumblr @copiousloverofcopia)

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gearselectric · 2 months ago

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Slightly tired of mental illness and neurodivergency symptoms/traits in media always needing some magical/paranormal/etc reason for occurring instead of ever just being symptoms

It just feels kind of weird that so many movies/shows will encourage the idea that delusions/hallucinations are actually NOT mental illness and actually the worst case scenario IS happening!!! And the character will be like “am I going crazy?!” And other characters will treat them weird about it and it almost seems like accurate representation until “you were cursed by the wizard when you were 2 and now you get visions!!!!” Like cool. That’s interesting. Anyways can somebody get me a character with mental disorder symptoms that don’t occur supernaturally? Thx

Like IDK I don’t wanna sound like a hypocrite actually. Because I have object OCs that have a magic system and esp clocks have a lot of (projected) mental illness/neurodivergency/etc metaphors but. It’s different. Idk how to explain jt. It’s like wreck it Ralph. Or the Lego movie.

Like there is a difference between a characters traits being comparable to mental disorders/disabilities and being compared to or just being them in the media itself. In the Lego movie they don’t like say “EMMET BRICKOWSKI IS THE AUTISM EXPERIENCE!!!! He struggles socially!!!!” But they show him being excluded by all his friends and him just not knowing why he doesn’t seem to fit in or why people view him the way they do. They show him sticking to a structured routine and loving to follow written rules, including written rules on how he should socialize with others!! And that is something I really relate to!! I recently got a job and I struggle a lot with doing my work without a list of what I should do, and my boss keeps telling me to “do what I think is right,” but that is really hard for me to do because I’m used to just doing what other people tell me to 😭 which we could also see Emmet struggles with when others tell him to come up with his own idea.. you guys see.. they didn’t have to say emmet the Lego was autistic for me to be like

“That lego is autistic”

But then you have horror movies. They will make the mental illness the entire point of the movie and make it as horrifying and inaccurate as possible.

And others, even non-horror movies at times, will be like “everybody thinks I’m crazy but now my delusions and hallucinations are real!”

Some will be like “mental illnesses give you super powers!!!!!!!”

Like, most neurodivergent people will find that the characters they relate to most don’t have anything explicitly said or perhaps even implied at all.

It feels like a lot of “representation” of mental illness is made painfully obvious, showing characters in a hospital, or saying shit like “the voices😥” either for horror or as a joke. (Which in tern leads to a lot of ableist jokes in society!! I love hearing my family joking about ppl who get hallucinations whilst I’m secretly in the midst of a psychotic episode!! Sure hasn’t hindered my ability to ask for help at all! It also likely makes a lot of people feel their own symptoms must not be bad enough, because they don’t act as extremely.)

Like. I do think some people show more symptoms externally than others. But when only extreme cases are explicitly shown in media (and frequently explained by some supernatural event)

It’s just weird. And then the most relatable ones don’t mention it at all! It’s almost as if.. most experiences with neurodivergency and stuff.. are casual!

I do think in recent years there have been some media that have been including more casual/better representation of things, buuuut I don’t watch TV enough to give a solid opinion.

Another case I just think is rlly hilarious is when it feels incredibly implied that a character is something (autistic) but they don’t outwardly say it.

Arin from Ninjago dragons rising is SO. autistic. There are SO MANY dialogues where he’s just like “oopsies! I missed a social cue again! 😮” and it’s just. So silly to me. They never say he’s autistic but it’s so funny and obvious that they’re implying that to me. I’d be surprised if they aren’t (esp considering they’ve been getting more inclusive over the years.) Then there’s Jay who also has much much more subtle traits (saying he has sensitive hearing, having a lot of stim-like movements, a very intense interest in Fritz Donnegan movies, etc. ) and Zane who all his traits were explained away by him being a robot.

Idm if ppl agree or disagree with me I’m just rambling. Thinking thoughts.

Casual symbolism and codedness > obvious for sensationalism/interest

#zappyrhinopost

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the-chipped-cup-awards · 9 months ago

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2024 Chipped Cup Awards - Masterlist

Here, once again, are the winners of the 2024 Chipped Cup Awards

FLUFF:

Family: Tea and Roses by @thatravenclawbitch

Comfort: Struck By a Golden Arrow by @avatoh

Fix-it: Ritual by @peacehopeandrats

Reunion: A Dream is a Wish by @rowofstars

SMUT:

Kink/BDSM: On The House by @kelyon

Romance: Brandy, Apples, and Spice by @rufeepeach

Comedy: Accidents by @peacehopeandrats

Threesome: Fulfilling a Fantasy by @thescholarlystrumpet

First Time: Queen Takes Knight by @emospritelet

PWP: In the Dark and Wicked Hours by @rowofstars

ANGST:

Death: Strong for Belle by @desperatemurph

Hurts So Good: To Have and To Hold by @thatravenclawbitch

Misunderstanding: Unexpected But Not Unwelcome by @tickletorso

ROMANCE:

Date (overall) Lost and Found by @peacehopeandrats

Courtship: The Sweetest Dream by @threepwoodmarley

First Meeting: Portrait of the Heart by @chippedcupwrites

GENERAL:

One Shot: Pages of Reverie by @chippedcupwrites

Series: Lover’s Leap by @eirian-houpe

Novel Length: Mountains, Streams, and Magical Things by @peacehopeandrats

Short Fic: Babysitting by @timelordthirteen

Holiday Centric: Brandy, Apples, and Spice by @rufeepeach

Remix: Our Masks by @lotus0kid

Crossover: A Blade for Belfrey by @eirian-houpe

Dark Castle: Marble by @peacehopeandrats

Storybrooke: Leaving Storybrooke by @peacehopeandrats

"Missing Years": The Tent of Infinite Adventure by @peacehopeandrats

Wish!Verse: Deception by @eirian-houpe

SPECIAL CATEGORIES:

Golden Lace: The Storybrooke Whisky Appreciation Society by @threepwoodmarley

Woven Beauty: Undefined Desires by @worryinglyinnocent

Background Swanfire: To Have and to Hold by @thatravenclawbitch

Afterlife: Granted by @peacehopeandrats

Drama: Love Me Before the Last Petal Falls by @deliriumsdelight7

Supernatural/Sci-fi/Horror: The Cunning by @mareyshelley

Comedy: Lacey and the Tramp by @chippedcupwrites

AU-Original: Wretched Beginnings by @poorobscureplainandlittle

AU- OUAT: Tales of Gold by @JurisLadyAnna

AU-Other Media: The Black Swan by @deliriumsdelight7

Creature: The Finfolk’s Bride by @chippedcupwrites

Unexpected Twist: Contract by @kelyon

Bobby Squared: A Blade for Belfrey by @eirian-houpe

Trope: Love Me Before the Last Petal Falls by @deliriumsdelight7

English Language: To Nurse by @charon53

EVENTS

RSS: If You Will Be My Queen by @eirian-houpe

Fluffapalooza (Fic): The Tea Shop by @peacehopeandrats

Fluffapalooza (Art): Kiss Me Again, It’s Working by @milaeryn

Monthly Rumbelling: The Landlord and the Princess by @Rumplerose (AO3)

CHARACTER AWARDS

Belle: The Not So Dark One by @charlotteashmore13

Dark One!Belle: Rags to Riches by @alphashley14

Lacey: Sore Hearted Souls by @nerdrumple

Spinner!Rumple: Witch and Spinner by @Strummer_Pinks

Dark One!Rumple: Gilded by @eirian-houpe

Wish!Rumple: Once There Was a Wish by @peacehopeandrats

Mr. Gold: The Caretaker by @thestraggletag

Detective Weaver: Forgery by @peacehopeandrats

Baelfire/Neal: A House Built With Love by @of-princes-and-savages

Gideon: Finding You by @clarahue

OC Rumbelle Child: The Zoo by @peacehopeandrats

Villain: Cora in On the House by @kelyon

BFF/Wingman: Mountains, Streams, and Magical Things by @peacehopeandrats

ART

Fan Art: Kiss Me Again, It’s Working by @milaeryn

Graphic Art: And Love is When Someone Who Even KNows Your Scars Stays To Kiss You by @chippedcupwrites

AU In Art: Belle Isn’t Fascinated by the Idea of Marrying Gaston by @notonlymice

Fluff Art: Belle French and the Dork One by @chippedcupwrites

Angsty Art: In My Memory It Doesn’t End by @ace-cf-cups

Comic/Graphic Novel: Wearing Each Other’s Clothes by @angelqueen13art

Use of Color: Kiss Me Again, It’s Working by @milaeryn

Video: Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me by @chippedcupwrites

SUPERLATIVES:

Best Artist: @chippedcupwrites

Best Author: @kelyon

Best New Author: @ace-cf-cups

Best Rumbelle Fic: The Language of Flowers by @deliriumsdelight7

Best Anyelle Fic: Let’s Spend the Night Together by @ifishouldvanish

Best Anyem Fic: Tyger Tyger by @shakespeareanhoneybadgers

Rumbelle Lifetime Achievement: @jackabelle73

#the chipped cup awards #cca 2024 #award ceremony

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caspercryptid · 3 months ago

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New info post <3

Hi, I'm Casper, or Cas. I'm a Queer Trans Disabled writer working on fanfiction, original fiction, and professional TTRPG work on startplaying

Current hyperfixation: Book of Bill

Current projects:

November Write More Month! a Nanowrimo alternative focused on writing as much as you can and getting craft advice

Gravity Falls- Ad Astra: A portal Stan AU where Bill takes Tad Strange's body and introduces himself as Ford's boyfriend. It's going to be a weird summer (First bit up!) Requests open! Completed- swan princess / monster falls / Vampire Ford (1) (2) / Hades and Persephone

Request fills posted saturdays, once they're done <3

Short stuff: Collect Call

Original work:

The Aspera Project- Even forces of world domination have corporate websites. @theasperagroup for Vibes, Patreon for updates (under construction), and various other social media built into the worldbuilding that's hiding around. #aspera project for a lot of my original writing here on the blog. I'm in league with @the-neon-pineapple on this one <3

Watchville- There's a man, in a town, all alone. He alone knows what's coming. He may or may not tell you how to stop it. professional ttrpg inspired by Gravity Falls and the book of bill, #startplaying for my info posts about running games (seats still open!)

Miracles ttrpg- In a landscape as huge as the United States, a lot of things can get overlooked, and a small group can dedicate themselves to the cause of making sure that deaths from monsters are not among them. There are things that are bigger than you: the skyline, the road, the country, the heavens. But you can save lives, and that oughta be good enough. professional ttrpg based on. Well. Spn. Lets be real. #startplaying for my info posts (Seats still open!)

Current novel project is an arranged marriage supernatural romance set in the late 1940s, and I don't even have a working title. That's where we're at. @the-neon-pineapple is my beloved cowriter on this one too <3

I tag my nonfiction ramblings and shitposts with #casper's cryptid tales

I'm Always open to chatty anons (although I may take a while to answer, because... Disability.) To weird anons, to odd questions, occasionally to bizarre accusations. Sure. Hit me. Requests are open for Billford AUs and OC stuff.

Sideblogs:

@adhdapp for reviewing productivity apps

@theasperagroup - Gothic, horror, Vibes.

@fuckyeahjaycetalis - Jayce

@thebeelog - Bees

Asks are tagged with #Casper's haunted info tag, so check there if you're looking to see if I answered you at 4am. I do that a lot.

Thanks for reading, and for being here, and if you wanna support me, Ko-fi in bio

#casper's haunted info tag

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maria021015 · 5 months ago

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Here are some of my Stiles Stilinski Headcanons.

1. General Headcanons

2. Post-Void Headcanons

3. Stiles x Zaida (oc) Headcanons

General:

- Stiles has mainstream social media accounts (Instagram, TikTok, etc) but he barely uses them. He would have a few posts of himself with his friends and significant other, but he would not be regularly active. He’d mainly use those apps to scroll and send videos and memes to his friends.

- Stiles would be more active on other platforms where he joins conspiracy theory groups/pages and also geeks out about his interests.

- Stiles is a skateboarder. We saw a big image of a skateboarder on his bedroom wall in the early Teen Wolf seasons, so I believe Stiles has always been into skateboarding. When he was a kid he’d skateboard at the front of the house on the street and he’d come home all banged up from tricks he attempted. He would keep trying until he learned them. He kept skateboarding into his teen years until the supernatural took over and he didn’t have time anymore.

- Stiles would also be a huge gamer. He’d love combat games but also mystery and adventure games. He would also play horror games. He and Scott used to stay up gaming online with one another before the supernatural took over. They still do play sometimes when they get time and it’s a way to wind down and de-stress.

- Stiles would totally play Dungeons and Dragons. In season two he told Allison he was part of an online gaming community that battled mythical creatures - D&D would be right up his ally.

- Stiles loves bright and sunny days with a cool breeze. He was a really active kid and those were the best days to get out of the house. He remembers outings he went on with his Mom before she got sick, family days they’d spend at parks or walking through the Preserve. After his Mom got sick, he’d spend those days with Scott, playing on the street. Then after his Mom passed away and he moved into his teen years, he’d spend them running around town, skating, and messing around with Scott.

- Stiles doesn’t get a lot of sleep. He used to find it hard to sleep as a kid, and his Mom would read him comic books to get him to fall asleep. Sometimes it would work, other times it wouldn’t. Eventually, she got him a new pillow and told him it was a magic pillow that would help him sleep. After his Mom passed away he would get pretty bad nightmares, but his magic pillow helped. As he got older he knew the pillow wasn’t magic, but it reminded him of his Mom, and that was enough to help him get to sleep. He now can’t sleep without it.

- Stiles has always been morally grey. He breaks the law frequently, he advocates for resolving things with violence (even murder on occasion), he has always been a rule breaker. Part of it is a game/challenge to him - to see how far he can take it, to see what he is capable of. The other part is that he runs on his own personal moral code. His morals lie in loyalty to his friends. He would do anything to protect them.

- Stiles has ADHD and Generalised anxiety disorder. He later developes PTSD (post-void).

- Due to his ADHD, he was often labelled a trouble-child or a bad student, or the class clown. His parents were his biggest advocates, but Stiles saw their struggles. He feels like he was a difficult kid and that he was a burden to his parents.

- This feeling only worsens when his Mom gets sick and then passes away. He feels like he could have had more time with her if he wasn’t so difficult and didn’t stress her out with all of his problems. This is why in season 2 he hallucinates his father telling him it was his fault his mother died and that he would end up killing the Sheriff too.

- It’s because of this that he is so adamant on taking care of his father. He worried about losing his dad too, but he also doesn’t want to be a burden.

- This weighs heavily on him when he gets involved with the supernatural and it starts affecting his father’s job.

- Stiles is big on nostalgia. He loves anything and everything that reminds him of his Mom and of his childhood before she got sick. It’s why he loves the Jeep that Claudia used to drive him around in.

- It’s also why he loves 80’s music. His Mom used to put it on when they drove around or on road trips, or when she cooked. She would sing and dance. She’d pester Noah until he gave in and sung and danced with her and Stiles would watch and smile because he loved seeing how in love his parents were. Eventually they’d pull him in to dance too.

- Stiles loves 80’s music. He loves listening to it in the car and on late night drives and road trips. He plays the music full blast.

- He sings along (very loudly and rather badly) and headbangs and plays air guitar during guitar solos. He also will bang on anything - like it’s a drum kit - along to the beat.

- He loves AC/DC and Bon Jovi, but his guilty pleasures are the 80’s girlies like Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Stevie Nicks, Pat Benatar, etc.

- He also loves ABBA

-His love of the 80’s doesn’t stop at music. He’s a huge film buff. We already know he loves Star Wars, but he would be totally into The Goonies, Toy Soldiers, Gremlins, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Back to the Future, Stand By Me, The Breakfast Club, Top Gun, Beetlejuice, Ghost Busters, Princess Bride, E.T, Dirty Dancing (romance movies are also his guilty pleasure), Die Hard, The Labyrinth, The Neverending Story, Indiana Jones, Predator, The Terminator, Friday the 13th, The Shining, etc

- He’s a superhero nerd and prefers DC to Marvel. He would very passionately join online debates about which superhero cinematic universe is better.

- When he was a kid he would dress up as a superhero every Halloween (usually Batman). His Mom and Melissa would take him and Scott trick or treating and make their costumes. Scott would usually be Superman.

- Stiles plays the drums, and he plays them very well. He and Scott tried to start a band when they were in their early teen years, but no one wanted to join. Scott would play guitar, obviously. Noah and Melissa still have some embarrassingly cute home videos of their performances in the Stilinskis’ garage.

- Claudia and Melissa were great friends and knew each other from school. It’s how Scott and Stiles met.

- Stiles cannot cook for the life of him, and neither can Noah. Claudia was a great cook, and had a book of recipes passed down from her family. Neither Noah or Stiles can ever follow them correctly, so they always end up ordering out. This is why we see them eating so much fast food in the show.

- Stiles loves horror movies, especially older ones. But he loves that they scare Scott more. When the boys would have sleepovers as kids and it was Stiles’ turn to choose the movie, he’d always choose a horror movie because he found it hilarious when Scott would try to hide that he was hiding behind a pillow. Or that he wanted to sleep with the light on afterwards.

- Stiles has always been one to sleep in. Once he is asleep, it is very hard to wake him up.

Post-Void Headcanons:

- Stiles struggled a lot with nightmares and panic attacks after the events of season 3B.

- Sleep becomes even harder for him. Sometimes, when his nightmares get really bad, he wakes up in a panic thinking that the Nogitsune is back or that he never really went away.

- He carries a lot of guilt for his actions, and he always will.

- Deaton said that sacrificing themselves to find the Nemeton would darken their souls, but Stiles felt it the worst out of the three. After Void, he never felt the same. A part of him died. That happy, hyperactive kid with the buzz cut was gone after that. He lost his childhood innocence completely.

- Stiles blames himself for Allison and Aiden’s deaths. He feels responsible.

- Void was the beginning of the deterioration of Stiles and Scott’s friendship.

- Stiles pulls away from Scott because he thinks Scott is resentful/blames him for losing Allison. He knows Scott looks at him differently/sees him differently now.

- Stiles deals with his trauma alone. He doesn’t want to burden the rest of the gang but he also feels like none of them would understand.

- Stiles’ trauma causes him to become more distrusting, especially because he sees Scott fall victim to being too trusting time and time again. This only adds to the tension between them in season 5.

- Scott holds onto a lot of PTSD from the events of 3B (getting stabbed, losing Allison, Aiden dying, the chaos and death). It’s not conscious but he does think and feel differently about Stiles after that. He saw how easy it was for Stiles to be a villain - and an effective villain. He knows if Stiles snaps or turns it would be bad news. He knows what Stiles is capable of. He’s wary. He knows Stiles has always been morally grey and he is so wary about that that can lead to. He holds onto this until season 5, and that is why it’s so easy for Theo to play on that to turn Scott against Stiles. It’s only after season 5 and before season 6 that Scott and Stiles talk about all of this unresolved trauma and get their friendship back on track.

Stiles headcanons with my OC from my ‘Rising Tides’ fanfic:

- Stiles loves that Zaida is significantly shorter than him. He adores resting his head on top of hers when he hugs her and when they cuddle. He also loves teasing her about her height because it annoys her, but she secretly loves how tall he is too. She loves feeling safe and protected when he wraps his arms around her.

- Stiles also loves that Zaida is a bigger girl. He finds her body really attractive and loves all of her soft curves (he’s totally an ass AND boob man). Zaida knows this and she is very confident in flaunting it (and using it to get her way)

- Zaida loves that Stiles can always make her laugh. She seriously thinks he’s the funniest person on the planet, and Stiles loves making her laugh.

- Staida love having movie nights. They are both geeks and film buffs. Zaida shares Stiles’ love for 80’s films and other franchises like Star Wars. She introduced him to more modern fandoms like Harry Potter and T.V shows, whilst he shares with her some of the older stuff like Indiana Jones.

- They occasionally game together. Things like Mario Kart, Mario bros, Zelda, FNAF.

- There are some games Zaida doesn’t like as much, like the combat games he plays with Scott. So when he plays those Zaida reads her books.

- Zaida is a great cook. She often will come over to the Stilinski House and cook for Stiles and Noah, even before she and Stiles started dating. They love her food, and they love having home cooked meals again. It reminds them both of when Claudia was still alive.

- After Stiles and Zaida get together, she finds Claudia’s recipe book and cooks something for them. Noah and Stiles both start crying and she’s worried she ruined the food but they tell her it’s actually because it’s a comfort food Claudia used to make and it tastes the same.

- Stiles and Zaida love to cook together. Stiles will often put on some music and abandon the food to pull Zaida into a dance, just like he loves watching his parents do. They have a habit of burning the food.

- Zaida hates driving. Whenever they’re in the car together, Stiles will drive.

- Zaida has a habit of falling asleep during car rides, but when she’s not asleep, she’s blasting music and jamming out with Stiles.

- Noah really loves Zaida. He thinks she’s perfect for Stiles and loves how happy she makes his son. He sees a bit of himself in her, just like he sees a lot of Claudia in Stiles. Their relationship reminds him of himself and Claudia. But he does know that Stiles and Zaida encourage each others meddling and investigative spirits, so in that case he thinks she and Stiles are a bad influence on each other. He’s very worried about how his grandchildren will turn out - but in the best way.

- When Stiles sleeps with Zaida, he doesn’t need his pillow. He loves to lay his head on her (on her shoulder, or chest, or stomach, or lap) and it’s comforting enough to help him sleep anywhere and everywhere.

- Stiles and Zaida both hate early mornings, so they love to sleep in together. They have lazy weekends where they stay up until all hours of the night watching films or shows, or gaming, and then they sleep well into the day. They spend the rest of the day lounging around in their sweats and catching up on work before cooking together.

- The only exception is when they get up early to go watch the sunrise and have breakfast dates. They both love watching the sun rise and set, and they both love being out in nature - although they avoid anything particularly strenuous. Neither of them are big on exercise.

- During the week, they’re both the kind of people who would wake up at the last possible minute and hurry to get ready before rushing out of the house.

- They both need several alarms to wake up.

- Neither of them are big coffee drinkers. It’s too bitter for them. They prefer hot chocolate.

- Stiles likes quick and easy showers, but Zaida prefers to take baths. She could spend hours in the water, relaxing with a book and a glass of wine or some chocolate. Stiles isn’t a big fan of baths - unless Zaida is also in the bath with him. He gets bored and fidgety easily, so it’s not his thing.

- When he knows Zaida has had a particularly long day, he will run her a bath and get her book and wine ready for her for when she gets home. He’ll also often give her massages (which usually turns into something more).

- Stiles is definitely very attentive and big on foreplay and aftercare. He takes his time and is very thorough

- As a couple they are quite explorative in their intimate life and would totally take advantage of the fact that Stiles’ dad is a cop (*cough* handcuffs *cough*).

- Zaida loves to tease Stiles by wearing something lacy beneath her clothes and letting it flash throughout the day to get him all hot and bothered.

- Stiles is big on leaving and receiving marks - he’s proud of his girl so he wants to show off that she’s his and he is hers

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles #stiles x oc #teenwolf fanfiction #female oc #female original character #scott mccall #noah stilinski #sheriff stilinski #claudia stilinski #teen wolf headcanon #teen wolf stiles #teenwolf #teen wolf headcanons #headcanon #stiles headcanons

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