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noctilionoidea · 18 days ago

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drop the favorite oc lore noct 🔫👁️👁️

haha what do you mean favourite I love all my children equally!!!!!

anyways Ash

My horrible gremlin girl I love you so much. This is going to be so fucking long but so many details and the big twists are excluded so uh. Yeah it’s fairly convoluted

So in this universe there’s a bunch of stories happening across history, and the idea is that there’s truth to literally all belief systems. Because I like studying ancient religion and shit and I also really love fairytales folklore and cryptids! It’s a huge part of my childhood so it’s the main root of literally all my ocs’ stories. Ash’s story mainly centers around demonology and abrahamic religions as well as Greek, Roman and a pinch of ancient levantine. Let’s just say for now the devil is kinda a good guy??? And the designs for the Greek gods are the same as my general ones, but I want to make it clear as day that they are very much just characters. I have a lot of issues with people blurring the line between character versions and the actual religious figures so I just want to state that. This is also the same universe that Toxaris and Ciara exist in!!! They are 700 to 600 BCE and 2023 CE respectively.

Ash is from a very complicated family history on both sides much of which is spoilers for this project I want to do shit for, but the story starts in 1997, she’s a edgy goth 17 year old in Springfield Massachusetts, she is very loved by her family and knows it but still has classic teenage angst and gets into fights constantly. Shes a loner and only really hangs out with her adopted/god-brother Will who’s literally just her whole world at this point and her stoner friend Matt.

She’s kinda just fucking around through her senior year so that then she can dedicate herself to her tattoo apprenticeship. Then comes Quincy, this sweet socially awkward kid from Appalachian Tennessee who’s come to live with his aunt after his parents died. Ash originally thinks he’s some cute butch, he is not but somehow she’s still kinda into him despite assuming she was gay as shit (she’s a girl with complicated sexuality for today living in the fucking nineties), and they get really close. As friends. So they have a solo hangout. As friends. So they decide to explore some old house from the colonial period that’s rumored to be haunted together. As friends. Quincy’s fairly superstitious but not enough to take it that seriously, Ash fundamentally disbelieves in anything supernatural but wants to do it for the goth cred and thinks it’s fun. She likes spooky things. She may be atheist as fuck and not believe in the existence of souls, but fun is fun!

yea turns out there be ghosts. So these ghosts are shitty fucking puritans, and for some reason they’re specifically targeting Quincy. Ash doesn’t understand why (she’s clearly the less godly one) so she has to try and get him out of there. Eventually she gets so worried for her friend (they’re just friends guys) that she ends up cussing them out and calling them out on their shit, and decides in a moment of adrenaline to set the place on fire. Somehow it ends up pacifying them???

so it turns out supernatural shut is real. Okay. She’s trying to play it off. But she notices a lot of things happening just out of view that’s always accompanied by ringing in her ears. It’s demons and they’re stalking her. Her mom is a professor of religious studies at an unnamed university so she borrows some of her (…) more relevant books. At this point her kinda-ex-but-also-the-feelings-are-still-there girlfriend who left a year ago to pursue a music career returns, but something’s very wrong with her. The demons are also starting to physically attack her and Quincy, yet somehow she is able to fight them back in almost the same way she fights other kids. They’re scared, they don’t know what to do, Ash is kinda caught between trying to save two people she loves romantically (because that this point she’s stating to feel that her feelings for Quincy aren’t exactly platonic) and also figure out why she’s wrapped up in this.

that’s the first arc, immediately afterwards Aphrodite gets involved, even when face to face and having conversations with several deities Ash will consider herself atheist, ash’s dad comes from the linage of Aeneas and that’s only mildly important, Quincy is a changeling, something something antichrist and rebellion in hell, uncle Satan??? Mommy issues happen, the consequences of pulling yourself away from the people you love as a means to protect them, Will goes through religious trauma, she makes more friends that become family because of shared trauma and finding community through the weirdest fucking ties. Will and Matt are totally fucking

Eventually Ash does play a part in Ciara’s story! Shes the cool aunt who shows up sometimes and is deeply protective, She and Morgan have friendly beef, she’s really confused about how Ciara deals with her supernatural bullshit like running errands and not having her world view massively deconstructed, she and Quincy are married and also have a kid they stole from the fairfolk in wales.

Anyways random stuff here- Ash’s dad Snaketongue ( his given name is Joseph) is an atheist (ex Pentecostal from West Virginia) and his philosophy is heavily influenced by his hatred of corporations and the devastation that was his first two and a half decades of life. Ash is very much like him and looks up to him. He lost his leg in a mining accident at 16, loves being a mechanic and is terrified ash will follow in his steps (…). He was involved with motorcycle gangs in his late teens and early twenties and got his tongue split as torture in a fight. He thinks this is cool as shit.

Will moved up to Springfield in his infancy with his mom, who despite loving his father didn’t want Will to grow up like him or be hurt by his lifestyle, and worked with Snaketongue, and they had a really close bond and ended up raising their kids together. Will’s mother ended up dying in a car accident when he was 7, and was legally adopted by Snaketongue and Ellie (not ash’s mom’s real name lmao). He already saw Snaketongue as his dad, but took awhile to consider Ellie a mom since he was still mourning his mom and didn’t want to replace her. This was when Ash became super protective of him. He’s a year younger than her. He is a good Christian boy (…) who genuinely wants to do everything to help others. Unfortunately he joined an evangelical church, which has the rest of the family on edge about how it effects him… it’s won’t end well. He’s very clearly in a relationship with Matt and trying to hide it, however the more deeply his feelings and the worse Matt’s situation gets he starts slipping.

“Ellie” is Ash’s mother, as previously mentions a professor of religious studies, and most of the other stuff is either a spoiler or needs to be worked out a bit more. Lmao

Ash’s full name is Ashley Sahar Bellone, she is 4’10 on a good day and salty as fuck about it, she is a cis intersex woman (complete androgen insensitivity syndrome) and has a lot of issues in her relationship with womanhood both as a result and because of how her behavior and attitude is perceived (she has no problem being seen as boyish androgynous or even full on a boy when crossdressing, but being treated like a failure of a woman hurts her a lot), she’s only ever been attracted to women and David Bowie as Jareth before Quincy. She loves apple pie and mourning doves. Her weapon of choice is a sica, gun, or punching and kicking people

so yea that’s Ash! And the start of her situation. So much is spoilers but I love her a lot

#Oc shit #ask about my ocs!#Oc; Ash #Ocs #doodle #oc #asks #shes such a dumbass #Nooo don’t sacrifice the remnants of your childhood as keeping you loved ones safe!!! It isn’t your burden alone!!!!!

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swiss-mrs · 11 months ago

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bestie… what does clubbing with goth and/or post-punk steve look like in your eyes? 👀 i would like to know

BESTIE

Not you opening the floodgates to us sending back and forth requests 🤭

Fun Lil #Swiss Fact: Back in Summer of 2021 my friends and I were trying to club/bar hop in a city/state we weren't familiar with and after 3 failed attempts (including crashing some rando's all-white party [I was in head to toe black]) we stumbled into a goth club and had the time of our lives.

I was in my little big titty goth girl era, so I just so happened to be in perfect dress code LMAO. This request has singlehandedly removed me from my pop girly mode and straight back into 80s/90s alt girl.

Haunted Haus

Steve Harrington x Goth Club Owner!Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: Good Music ✌️🤪, Steve-isms (some bad flirting, not so discreet looking, but also some not well hidden nerves), a lil angst👀, a single, '90s reference (just ignore), Reader being an absolute goddess.

Reader/Unnamed Character Description: No Descriptions Beyond Clothing, No Mentions of Age, Race, Ethnicity, Height, Etc., No Use of Y/N, She/Her Pronouns, Mentioned as "woman" and "madame", Bodily Descriptions kept minimal/gn

Synopsis: Steve may be in a chokehold by the abundance of hot goth girls in media rcently and decides to indulge in the dark and alternative scene irl.

××××💀❤️💀💀❤️💀💀❤️💀××××

Steve sat in the driver's seat of his BMW, gripping and twisting his hands around the wheel. The car sits stagnant in the grassy parking lot as minutes pass. "Come on, Harrington. You got this." Steve says for the millionth time, this time finally releasing a hand from the poor steering wheel to reach up for the review mirror, abruptly adjusting it to make eye contact with himself. "You got this." He uses his other hand to point at his reflection. Steve drops his hands to his lap as his gaze is taken from himself and to the paper sitting on the passenger's seat.

It was a flyer he'd stumbled across, or more accurately Robin stumbled across.

"I found the perfect thing for you." She burst through the door, taking Steve off-guard. He gave her a skeptical look, shifting his weight to one side, not really amused.

"And what is that, I ask regrettably."

"Ooo, that's a big word." Robin quips back a little too easily, causing Steve to roll his eyes, but Robin pays no mind as she averts her gaze to the paper in her hand.

"Haunted Haus, Goth Night." She flips the paper around to shove the front side in Steve's face. He jerks back, just out of reach. "Found this little baby." Steve’s brows furrow as his eyes adjust to try and read the text on the paper being held far too close to his face. "This may be your chance to find you a Hex Girl." Steve snatches the paper from her grip and gives her an unimpressed look, but Robin remains unfazed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the counter with a smug look.

Steve props himself on one hand as he leans his weight against the counter with one foot crossed in front of the other. He looks down at the paper in his hands, reading off the provided information and address. "Isn't that the old creepy church looking building?"

"Yeah, the one right outside of town." Robin confirms. "I did a little investigating, and turns out someone bought the cursed thing and turned it into an 'unconventional' night club." She replied, lifting a hand to place air quotes. Steve huffs in response. "As far as I've heard, it's pretty underground but also pretty popular."

"Oh yeah? And who have you heard that from?" He raises a brow, looking over invisible glasses over at Robin. She scoffs in offense.

"I have my sources." She rolls her eyes at Steve's continuous skeptical look. "Look, you obviously still aren't having much luck here, and now that you've officially developed an interesting niche," Steve scoffs again and rolls his eyes at her subtle jab. "I'm just trying to help."

"Where did you even find this?" Robin stands up straight and shrugs.

"Sources." She replies nonchalantly.

Steve lets out a huge sigh before ripping off his seatbelt and throwing the car door open.

As soon as Steve's white nikes hit the field and he stood to full height, it was like the cool night sucked all the warm air from his lungs. He stares up at the gothic structure ahead of him. Even from the back of the lot, you could hear the music flooding from the open doors. It was quite shocking to see the number of people attending, at least to Steve. There was no way there was this many people in Hawkins who were into this scene.

Steve stepped away from his car just enough to close and lock the doors behind him, beginning his tread to the club. The closer he got to the front door, the more he started to feel his heart thump against his chest. He's no stranger to parties by any means, but all his experience was exclusive to house parties and school dances. Since graduation, he honestly fell out of the party scene almost completely. He wasn't in college, and the thought of attending a high school party after graduation made him cringe. This was an exciting new venture for him.

Just as he clears the last row of cars, he gets a good view of the small crowd just outside the doors. People who, outside of their clothing and makeup choices, seemed like unlikely friends. People of all races, ethnicities, and statures all gathered together. It was odd to Steve to see such diversity, but it was refreshing.

He suddenly became a little self-conscious by his own outfit choice. Though he was in the standard all black getup, he was severely lacking the accessories, leather, and/or face paint, and it became extremely obvious as soon as he cleared the lot.

Resting on the doors of the entrance was a scary looking man and a brutish, equally scary looking woman. The man leaning against the left door was tall, a whole head above Steve. His arms were crossed, showcasing the muscle on muscle he was packing. His unamused, grey eyes pierced through Steve with one simple glance. There was no telling how he was able to keep going, but the striking gaze didn't stop Steve's body from moving forward.

Just as his foot met the cement of the sidewalk, the lady on the right side, nearly equal in height to Steve, took as step forward and held her hand up. Steve’s eyes met her green ones. Steve stopped in his tracks, waiting for the woman to speak first. Before she uttered a word, Steve could see her eyes track up and down his body with a keen gaze. "You here solo?" Her deep southern accent through Steve off.

"Yes." He dares to glance back and forth between her and the guy to the left. Once Steve's eyes land back on her, he lifts his chin in fake confidence. "I am." The woman's eyes squint slightly, seeing right through his confident facade. Steve's eyes flit back to the man to find steel eyes staring back with their ever-present empty glare.

"You won't be causing any trouble now, will ya, son?" She asks, bringing Steve's attention back to her. He raises a confused brow. Why is he being singled out? His eyes nervously bounce around.

"No? I'm just here for the..." He trails, gesturing to the lively club behind them. "Why? Do I look like trouble?" His confusion slightly over taken by his sassy tone. The woman steps aside and gestures toward the club.

"G'on." She says before stepping back to her 'post' by the door. Steve stands in place for a few more seconds, still a little thrown off by the interaction. The woman gives him a look as if to dare him to test her patience, and Steve takes that as a sign to get moving.

Steve cautiously walks through the doors, side-eyeing both bodies occupying the entrance, the man's eyes following him. Steve begins to question what he's gotten himself into.

Once he's officially inside, the lights and music are quick to overwhelm his senses. It's dark within the confines of the building, but the red strobe lights cast an intimate, sensual, almost sinister glow over everything. "Nice hair." A voice just barely over the music brings Steve out of his trance. He looks towards the voice to find a short woman behind a pedestal with a raised brow. Her hair was dyed black with short bangs and curled wisps of short layers just above her shoulders. Her skin was as pale as the moon, and her nails were chipped and painted red. "$3.00"

Steve stared at her as he fished in his pocket for the cash. Thankfully, he remembered to check the entry price on the flyer before leaving home. He plops the bills into her outstretched hand before receiving a short nod as an 'OK for entry'.

Steve walks further in, stopping at the top of the short set of stairs that lead down to the main floor. Being slightly above gave him a slight vantage point to get a quick scope of the club. Again, what did he get himself into?

Steve took each step one at a time, pausing on each one as he looked around. There was nothing but black clothing and flowing fabrics on the dance floor, limbs moving in every direction to the mixture of synth, bass, and fast drums. A few years ago, Steve would've viewed this crowd as a bunch of weird freaks in a derogatory sense, but now, Steve just sees the opitome of freedom.

Steve cringes at the thought of his younger self. If only he was as carefree and comfortable to just be himself from the beginning, instead of being so judgemental and close-minded, maybe he could look back fondly at his youth. Well, no time like the present. He buried those thoughts and moved forward, deciding to plant himself at the bar for starters.

Moving through the crowd, he had to dodge arms and legs. Most of those dancing were doing so with their eyes closed, truly doing so as if no one was watching. His head was on a swivel as he walked, not only to make sure he didn't accidentally get hit but also cause he had this itching feeling of being watched.

Steve looked over his shoulder towards the door, but neither the 'security team' nor the wispy haired girl were paying him any attention. He continued to look around the crowd. Maybe someone from town was there and spotted him, but no. He couldn't find eyes on him anywhere.

Shaking off the feeling, he gets to the half empty bar and leans one elbow on the bartop. He looks over to a girl just a seat down from him with gel spiked bangs and a messy, half updo similar to Elvira's. Just as she's handed her drink, she turns and makes quick eye contact with Steve. He tilts his chin up at her with a slight grin, but it must've not been as smooth as he had hoped cause all it did was get him a once over and eye roll in return as she walked away sipping through her straw.

Steve doesn't drop his grin until she's disappeared back into the crowd, and the bartender addresses him. He orders his usual before turning away from the bar and leaning back on his elbows, scoping out the club again. He sighs.

"Just don't pull that same cheesy crap you try on the girls that unfortunately find themselves here." Robin says.

"Hey, it's not-"

"'That bad.' Yes. Yes, it is, Steve. It IS that bad, and quite frankly, it's just as hard to watch." She deadpans. Steve scoffs, offended, shifting his weight as his eyes look around, trying to find a rebuttal.

Steve scoffs out a short laugh, shaking his head at himself. He doesn't know how or why, but ever since Nancy, it just seems like he's lost all 'game', and that loss is really not helping when it comes to moving on once and for all.

The bartender returns, setting the glass down next to Steve, causing him to turn and rest his forearms on the bartop. They exchange nods before the bartender goes back to work, and Steve takes his first sip. Soon, Steve finds himself getting lost in the liquid contained within the glass.

Was he ever really as 'smooth' as he thought? He never seemed to have such an issue with 'charm' before, but then again, he was never really himself back then. Not since her. He was always able to seamlessly put on this charismatic, flirty facade before. Everything he did was the same persona that won her over. When he let it falter, she left him, but now that he's trying that guy back on, it doesn't fit quite right anymore.

A part of him should be grateful that he's found a friend group that is willing to accept him for himself, all his good and bad, his true self, but when it comes to his love life, he can't help but wish he could be that guy again. He's been alone for so long now, and it's lonely.

He just wants someone again. In the beginning, that someone could've been anyone, but the more time he's spent alone, the more he's started to think he couldn't take that someone just being anyone. The idea of him 'peaking in high school' scared the ever loving shit out of Steve.

His fingers fiddle with his glass, spinning it round and round in his hand. He glances down at his fingers through the glass, metal reflecting through. Shit.

His heart suddenly feels heavy at the thought of his fallen friend. Steve retracts his hand slightly from the glass to stare down at the ring on his index finger, a thick silver skull. If only he could see him now. As if he could hear his laugh, Steve turns his head to the right. Out of the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he saw that cheesy grin staring back at him, but he's instead met with a row of empty seats. Steve furrows his brows. If Eddie were here, he would've loved this.

Steve lets out a humorless huff of a chuckle through his nose. He wants to laugh at the thought, but it just feels heavy knowing he's not here to actually enjoy it.

Before Steve can get too deep in his head, he feels an odd sense to look behind him, so he does. He turns his head to glance over his shoulder, only to be caught in awe. Just opposite from him was the woman of his dreams walking down a flight of stairs, staring in his direction. Jesus, you were gorgeous. He couldn't tell if you were actually staring right through his soul or just so happened to look towards the bar.

Adorning your body was a long black dress with a slit up the side, stopping at the top of your thigh. Your legs were covered with sheer black stockings that had delicate, intricate lace patterns. The leather of your black corest reflected the red lighting, absolutely sinful. Though your dress was lowcut, your neck, shoulders, and arms were covered in a black lacy fabric that flowed out at your wrists. Your red bottom, black heels topping off your entire look.

You stalked down the staircase with a dark elegance that could move mountains. You are the definition of the kind of woman men would go to war for. You must be the queen of the underworld if there is one, and God, did Steve feel some type of way about it.

Unlike Steve, the sea of bodies seemed to unconsciously part ways for you as your eyes locked in on Steve. Steve was the only one in this very spot at the bar. There was no other logical reason for you to be looking that direction besides looking at him, but he still left as if he was not the object of your gaze, not even when you were standing right in front of him.

"Nice hair." Steve scoffed. If he had a nickel for every time he- Oh God, you're on the move again. You maneuver to step around him and claim your spot next to him at the bar. Steve watches you place your 'usual', getting a 'Yes, madame' in response. Steve can't help but raise a brow slightly at the formality, but his face drops when you turn back to face him. "You're obviously," your up and down gaze burns through Steve's skin. "New."

Steve suddenly feels as if he was standing naked in front of you. He'd been 'once-overed' at least four times since he's gotten here, but your eyes make him question if he actually remembered to put on his clothes. When there's a bit of a silence between you two, Steve clears his throat to try and regain his voice. "That obvious?" He holds a slight grin on his lips, but his eyes bounce around nervously, a dead give away of his true inner turmoil.

You raise an amused brow, "Well, to be fair, we don't get many well-tailored suit jackets and non-distressed jeans, but the all-black is at least a start." A glass is placed at your side as you finish your sentence. You give the bartender a quick smile and a thank you before he nods and moves on. Steve's hand self-consciously goes to tug at the lapel of his jacket. He tries to think of a witty, charming come back, but you continue before his mind can catch up. "So, are you here to find a girl to fulfill a fetish, or are you finally coming out of the suburbian closet?" You bring the glass up to your mouth. Steve tries to answer but is too focused on your red colored lips around your straw.

"I, uh," he clears his throat, looking away. He hopes you didn't, but you definitely caught him staring. "The second one." You let out a small giggle.

"Well, that's better than the former, I guess." It's a little bit of both, but Steve would be damned if he admitted that aloud. "Let me guess. Popular boy in high school, couldn't be caught being 'weird'?" You tilt your head in a way that Steve couldn't help but feel was both a bit condescending and also adorable.

"Right on the nose." He leans his forearms on the bartop again, grasping his glass in both hands to discreetly try and cool his sweaty palms. You lean on the bar right next to him. The scent of you overwhelms his nose, replacing the stench of alcohol, evermore heady and dizzying. The fight against gravity had never been so tough on his knees.

"Cute." You state simply, bringing your straw back to your lips and taking another sip. Steve looks over at you, a bit shocked. He was completely ousted from the crowd around him. He's the outsider here. The one trying and failing to fit in. He didn't think this whole 'loser boy' thing would be what got him brownie points, but to hell with it. If it works, it works.

"So," He leans up a little bit to adjust himself to face you, leaning more prominently on only one arm. "Are you a regular here?"

Your brows raise, "Repackaging 'come here often', I see?" There wasn't much room between that sentence and the next, but it was just enough for Steve's stomach to drop to his stomach, already feeling the rejection incoming, but it didn't come. "You could say that." You shrug nonchalantly. "It is a nice space and all." You add. "I haven't seen you in these parts." You shoot back a bit more dramatized, fully leaning into the cheesy line delivery.

Steve looks around, nodding and fixing his jaw as if he got caught red-handed for something. "Touché." A smug grin grows on your lips as you take another sip of your drink. He turns back to look at you, you already holding eye contact. He swallows down the saliva that builds on sight. "This is my first time here, first time at a party type event in a long while, actually." He admits.

"Well, I'm glad I could be here for your first time." You reply seamlessly, fully aware of the innuendo. Steve huffs out a chuckle. His face warms both at the thought of what you're insinuating but also at the slight embarrassment of it all. "Tell me. Are you here because you like the music or is it something else?" The way you adjust yourself has Steve screaming 'something else' in his head, his eyes following your every movement as you turn.

"The music." He replies shortly, still checking you out. He blinks away, trying to control his wandering eyes. He clears his throat, "A... friend of mine was really into heavy metal, and one rabithole after another landed me here." You hum out a response, nodding to confirm your understanding.

"Too heavy for you?" You quip back. Steve scoffs out another laugh, shaking his head and looking down at his glass, a few strands off hair falling into his face.

"I guess you could say that. It wasn't bad, just wasn't quite my vibe." He glances over at you, finding your eyes oh so easily once more. "This fit me better." A genuine, intrigued smile slowly grows on your face.

"So, is your friend here with you tonight?" You already could tell he came here solo, but you couldn't help but ask for confirmation. As soon as you did, though, something in his eyes changed, that little glimmer that was barely there to begin with was stomped out like a dying ember. Steve pauses a second before responding.

"No." You immediately regretted bringing up what must be a sore topic. "He, uh, he couldn't make it." Your smile long faded, but you couldn't stop your brows from quirking up slightly in curiosity.

"That's too bad." You say with a slight kind smile, trying to lighten things up. "Maybe come back next Friday, Metal night." Your smile widens hopefully with your suggestion. It brings a small one to Steve's lips but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Maybe." And you both leave it at that. A few beats go by before you try and change the subject.

"Well, since this is your first time and all," you start, leaning in on the two words with a small brow wiggle. "Would you like to dance?" Your question seems to throw Steve through a loop. You just asked him to dance?

"I, uh, yeah! Sure, of course." He stumbles a little, but overall excited, trying to play it cool. His little 'nonchalant, cool guy' facade fighting with his seemingly more natural 'playful and charming' attitude causes you to squint with a knowing smile. It's a bit comical how you can see right through him.

You finish the remainder of your drink by omitting the straw and drinking from the glass. Once the glass is placed back on the counter and stained red with lipstick, you grab his hand and start leading him away from the bar.

You don't get too far before your path is interrupted by the towering, grey eyed man from the front door. Steve's heart weighs down on his stomach at the sight of the man. He just looks like he could kill. "Pardon the intrusion, madame." His deep Australian accent cuts through. Steve furrows his brows in confusion once more at the reoccurring formality. "There is a matter that requires your attention. It won't take up much of your time." You look up at the man who looms over you even in your heels. You sigh.

"I will be right there." You reply. He takes a step back to give you space, but maintains a close enough distance to lead you away once you're ready. You turn to Steve with an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry. Would you mind giving me just a moment?" Steve is a bit stunned.

"Yeah, sure..." He trails, confused. You give him a smile.

"Save me that dance, will you?" He melts at your smile, thoughts clearing of any and everything just at the sight. He nods mindlessly. Your smile grows in return before you release his hand and turn to follow that security guard who came for you.

Steve watches you leave and can't stop himself from looking you up and down. Once you're out of sight, Steve makes his way back to the bar, returning his grip back to his sweating glass.

×××

Just as you said, you wouldn't take long, but the few minutes Steve had to wait felt like an eternity until you arrived back beside him. "I'm so sorry. You ready for that dance?" Steve stood up straight and turned to face you. Every time you appeared, it was like a God sent. You were ethereal in a way that Steve couldn't quite put into words.

"Y-yeah." But he made no move to get to the dance floor. You close the distance between you both until you're toe to toe. You cock your head to the side, silently questioning him. His heart feels like it'll beat out of his chest, the air wafting your scent straight back into his brain. "Why does everyone keep calling you 'madame'?" He manages to get out. He's not sure that was the question he meant to ask, but that's what came out. You sigh, pouting like you've been caught.

"Fine, I guess that cat's out of the bag." You shift your weight to jut out one hip. "I'm the owner of this place." Steve's brows shoot up. He wasn't expecting that. Maybe a manager or something, but the owner?

"You're the owner?" He repeats the question outside of his own mind. You let out a soft chuckle, grinning proudly.

"The one and only." After a few stunned seconds coming from Steve's end, you reach out for his hand again, stepping back and pulling him with you, leaving his now empty glass behind. You gently guide him away from the bar once more before turning to properly lead him to the dance floor.

Steve's mind floods with more follow-up questions and conversation starters, but there you go again, 'walking away' though with him in tow. His eyes find themselves glancing over your figure again. He wants to continue a conversation with you, to get to know you and all other secrets you're hiding, but as soon as you're away from the safe haven that is the bar, music overpowers all other noises on the dance floor.

You settle on a good spot for you and Steve, ample room for the both of you, but also a safe spot to be experimental, not really knowing if he has any dancing experience. The look you give him forcefully removes the air from his lungs. You start moving and flowing to the beat effortlessly, keeping your movements tame and fluid. Steve's eyes follow your hands as they run up your thighs, your hips, your waist, and eventually in the air.

At first, he's left there just watching you dance, but the show doesn't last too long before he feels your hands on his, pulling him close to follow your movements with his body. He slowly joins in with gentle swaying of his hips with yours, leaving his hands where you placed them, at the base of your waist. You allow your arms to move freely, the fabric of your sleeves flowing along with them. You throw your head back, allowing the music to take over.

The whining of your waist and gentle roll of your shoulders sparks electricity through Steve as he stares down at your body in all its glory. He can't stop the heat from rising within him.

Eventually, your eyes return to him and force his gaze to meet them. You give him a look before bringing your arms down gently to caress the sides of his neck and face. Steve couldn't pinpoint if it was the dancing, the alcohol, or you causing him to sweat so damn much.

You reach a hand up to run through the front of his hair, pushing his damp bangs out of the way. His eyes flutter to look down at your red lips, painfully watching the way they smirk. You tug on his hair, causing his head to get thrown back a bit. His eyes close, and his mouth falls open, and he has to fight the urge to moan at the feeling.

He continues to sway to the music with his eyes closed and head thrown back, just as you commanded, and as predicted, it had the exact effect you wanted. He gets lost in the music, lost in the moment.

Steve was instantly knocked into a state of bliss. He felt equally invincible and nonexistent. Nothing could hurt him. He was just here with you. Nothing else mattered. A weight was lifted off his shoulders that had been weighing down for so long he forgot it was even there. Now that it was gone, he felt weightless, like he would float away if you weren't there to ground him, if his grip on your hips loosened, if your hands on his neck left him. He was in pure euphoria.

Steve couldn't tell you how long you two stayed that way or how many songs passed, but suddenly, the tempo slowed, and the music quieted slightly. Your hands found their way to his cheeks, tilting his head down to no longer be thrown back. As soon as his head was facing forward, those pesky strands of hair flopped down again. Steve's eyes remained closed, so when you reached to run your hands through his hair again, the feeling of your fingers against his scalp felt like they were massaging directly against his brain. He felt lightheaded at the touch.

"What's your name?" Even through the ringing of his ears from the unknown stretch of loud music, your voice still flooded in as if you were speaking directly into his mind.

"Steve." He replies softly, not ready to leave his nirvana. You smile softly.

"Steve." You repeat. He was fine until you said his name. Now, he wasn't too sure how long before his legs gave out from beneath him. "Regrettably, the night is coming to an end." At this Steve's eyes open, though remaining half lid.

His eyes bore into yours, causing your soft smile to widen. You tilt your head as if trying to get a better look at his eyes beneath his eyelids. His eyes open up a bit wider at your small action. He looks away from you to let his eyes wander the room.

The dance floor has half the amount of people on it. The bartender is wiping down the bar top and glasses, and the two security guards are talking with the wispy haired girl towards the front doors. You move your hand higher on his cheek to grab his attention.

His eyes take in your face like it's the first and last thing he'd ever see. It causes your heart to warm. "Will I see you again, Steve?" Your voice melts through him. His lips part as he nods gently. His hazel eyes dance around your features with a small smile.

"I've never looked forward to anything more." Your soft laugh causes him to furrow his brows a little as he watches you.

"That was a good line." You approve. Steve scoffs, joining in with your soft laughs. He shakes his head, eyes bouncing around at nothing in particular before looking back to your eyes.

"It wasn't 'a line'." His eyes widen playfully as his grin widens, showing his teeth. "I mean it." His gaze goes from your eyes down to your lips. His head shakes again, hair bouncing as his small antic repeats itself. "You're quite honestly the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and I would really like to get to know you." You give him a genuine smile.

"You are quite the charmer, aren't you?" By now, it's only you and Steve left on the dance floor, the last stranglers leaving out the door, the music just loud enough to hear.

"Is it too much to ask for your number?" He raises his brows with a hopeful expression. You give him a big smile and drop your hands to grab his, leading him back over to the bar. You reach over the bartop to grab a napkin and a pen, writing down your phone number before slipping it into his breast pocket with a smile. Steve smirks, eyes dancing back and forth from your eyes to lips and back up.

A sharp whistle cuts through the venue, grabbing both yours and Steve's attention. The brutish, green eyed security guard waves her hand in a circle, signaling to 'wrap it up'. Steve turns back to you just in time to see your eyes roll in response. He bites back a smile, lifting an arm and offering his elbow. You loop your hand around his arm and begin walking with him to the door.

Just as you reach the entrance/exit, the three employees leave from their posts, heading to the bar to give you both some space. "You better give me a call, cool guy." You raise a brow, releasing his arm to turn and face him properly with your chin held high. He gives you one of the most charming smiles you've ever seen, resting his hands on his hips. His brows quirk up again.

"You better answer, gorgeous." You fight your flustered expression with much difficulty, ultimately failing. You roll your eyes to try and cover up your inability to hold eye contact with him right now. You shake your head, turning slightly back to the inside of the club. You look at him through the corner of your eyes. He raises another teasing brow, awaiting a response. A beat passes before you close the gap between you, lifting your hand to capture his face, dragging his face to yours and planting a kiss on his lips.

Steve's eyes nearly pop out of his head the second he feels your lips on his. His eyes just begin to blink closed as you slowly pull away from the short-lived kiss. Steve chases after you, not wanting the contact to end. He couldn't remember the last time he had been kissed. He didn't realize how touch starved he truly was until you graced him with your touch.

"Goodnight, pretty boy." Steve’s eyes open back up to find you've made your way back inside, hands holding open the doors as you bid him farewell. Steve’s mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out, his eyes blown wide. All he can do is lift a hand to wave in response as you slowly close the doors.

"She sounds hot. Did you call her?" Robin asks, leaning over the counter with wide eyes. Steve scoffs with a sassy hand on his hip.

"Robin, I didn't get home until like 4am. I could just call her."

"Okay, well, that was Saturday. Today's Monday, and you still haven't called, dingus?!" She looks at him as if he's the biggest idiot in the world. He sputters a he tries to redeem himself.

"I'll call her today." Robin rolls her eyes, smacking her hand down on the stack of movies next to her before dragging them off the counter and into her hands.

"Whatever." She walks around the counter to get back to work. "It's the end of your shift. Clock out and give Morticia a call before I do." Steve's eyes follow her as she walks away until she rounds an isle and is no longer in view.

The entire drive home, Steve was racking through his brain thinking of different scenarios. "How was the rest of your weekend?... What's your favorite band?... How's owning a club like?" He talks to himself, practicing questions and answers. A part of him just wants to skip passed all the introductory questions and just get to the nitty gritty.

He craves to get to know you on a deeper level, on every level. He wants to share with you all his goals, all his fears. He wants to just spend more time with you. He yearns for your touch on his skin again, your hands on his neck, on his face, fingers in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, lips on his. He can't help but laugh at himself. He feels crazy. You've only met each other two days ago, and he's already aching for you.

He parks in the empty driveway, sighing. He's always been used to arriving to an empty home, but since graduation and his parent leaving him the house for his own, it has been even more lonely than before. He locks up the car and makes his way into the empty house. He hangs his keys on the hook by the door and makes a b-line to the phone.

Steve pulls out his wallet, taking out the folded up napkin he's been carrying around with him since Saturday. His heart races in his chest as he listens to the dialing, resting the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he twirls the chord around his fingers. Just as he's about to give up and hang up with the phone, there's a distinct click of someone answering.

"Hello?"

×××

Hope you liked it, bestie☺️☺️😩 Not me making Steve a little hot and heavy in the club🥵

if it wasn't obvious, I'd do anything to run my hands through his hair 😩

💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x black reader #steve harrington x black!reader

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moodsandtenses · 10 months ago

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Dracula's Guest: in which a business trip gets off to a rough start

Welcome back to Dracula Daily season! If you want to kick things off a little early this year, why not treat yourself to a read-through of Dracula’s Guest? Cut from the novel in the drafting process (ETA: the specifics of where exactly it fit into the plot of Dracula are a little fuzzy, for complicated reasons), and later published as a separate short story, it takes place today on April 30, also known as Walpurgis Nacht. The whole thing’s available here, thanks to Project Gutenberg.

Some further discussion of this absolute wild ride of a not-quite-canon side trip below:

Dracula’s patented “when in doubt, address the problem with Wolves” strategy gets off to an early start

We join Dracula’s guest - unnamed in the story, but pretty obviously Rough Draft Jonathan Harker - in Munich, on the first leg of his business trip to Transylvania. If this had been part of the finished book, it would have really front-loaded the tension, giving Jonathan a whole Vampire Sidequest to get involved in before he even gets to Transylvania. A few fun facts worth noting here:

The Dracula Daily community has done a lot to rehabilitate Jonathan Harker’s reputation, restoring his place as a courageous, resourceful vampire hunter and countering the pop-culture image of him as a clueless naif that’s persisted since the early film adaptations. Rough Draft Jonathan, meanwhile…well, he really is a whole lot more Like That. The whole first chunk of “Dracula’s Guest” mostly consists of him cheerfully ignoring a SPECTACULAR parade of red flags:

Whereupon he burst out into a long story in German and English, so mixed up that I could not quite understand exactly what he said, but roughly I gathered that long ago, hundreds of years, men had died there and been buried in their graves; and sounds were heard under the clay, and when the graves were opened, men and women were found rosy with life, and their mouths red with blood. And so, in haste to save their lives (aye, and their souls!—and here he crossed himself) those who were left fled away to other places, where the living lived, and the dead were dead and not—not something. He was evidently afraid to speak the last words. As he proceeded with his narration, he grew more and more excited. It seemed as if his imagination had got hold of him, and he ended in a perfect paroxysm of fear—white-faced, perspiring, trembling and looking round him, as if expecting that some dreadful presence would manifest itself there in the bright sunshine on the open plain. Finally, in an agony of desperation, he cried: “Walpurgis nacht!” and pointed to the carriage for me to get in. All my English blood rose at this, and, standing back, I said: “You are afraid, Johann—you are afraid. Go home; I shall return alone; the walk will do me good.” The carriage door was open. I took from the seat my oak walking-stick—which I always carry on my holiday excursions—and closed the door, pointing back to Munich, and said, “Go home, Johann—Walpurgis-nacht doesn’t concern Englishmen.”

Abandoned village plagued by rumors of the Un-Dead? Carriage driver crossing himself repeatedly and refusing to go near the place? Even the horses are panicking and trying to get away? Sounds like a lovely place for an afternoon stroll! Sorry, I’m simply too English for foreshadowing.

(Maybe this is just what comes of being engaged to Mina Murray, goth girl extraordinaire, who will later display the same “when in doubt, make a beeline for the creepiest local ghost stories” approach to vacation planning in Whitby.)

The inscription on the tomb of the vampire that Jonathan 1.0 encounters - who might or might not be one of the Brides of Dracula - identifies her as “COUNTESS DOLINGEN OF GRATZ, IN STYRIA.” Styria is, of course, the setting of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s 1872 vampire novel Carmilla, suggesting a direct connection between the two stories that didn't make it into the final novel.

The tomb is also inscribed with a Russian translation of “The Dead Travel Fast,” the same line from the German gothic ballad Lenore that will later get quoted at Jonathan on his first encounter with Dracula himself. He just cannot get away from that quote (and the gothic heroine narrative parallels inherent therein).

Jonathan is saved from his nearly-fatal encounter with Countess Dolingen by a very familiar wolf, before being rescued by a search party of soldiers (who are understandably pretty freaked out about the whole affair). The maître d’ of his hotel later reveals to him that he knew to send out a search party thanks to a quietly hilarious telegram from Dracula himself, who’s evidently decided to take proactive steps to protect his guest/investment/snack for later:

Bistritz. Be careful of my guest—his safety is most precious to me. Should aught happen to him, or if he be missed, spare nothing to find him and ensure his safety. He is English and therefore adventurous. There are often dangers from snow and wolves and night. Lose not a moment if you suspect harm to him. I answer your zeal with my fortune.—Dracula.

The whole story is obviously Not Canon as far as Dracula proper is concerned - and in particular, the more oblivious narrator here is a pretty far cry from the Jonathan we've all come to know and love over the past several time loops. But all the same, it's a fascinating look at what could have been, and furnishes some intriguing ingredients for Dracula-adjacent storytelling (thanks to that Carmilla connection in particular). And it is pretty funny to imagine Jonathan going through All That and then just cheerfully getting back to travel-blogging his trip for Mina like absolutely nothing happened. All like, “Well, that was terrifying! Anyway.”

#Dracula #Dracula Daily #meta #adventures in not-quite-canon

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f4y3w00d5 · 9 months ago

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looked thru my old characters again and now im wondering whod wanna rp with them, so im gonna pick a few out and give brief backstories

YOUNG INDUSTRIES (A former rp I did)

Description: Evil guy Seth kidnaps innocents and experiments on them, no one could ever escape.

Lets start with the characters from the Abyss, the Abyss was where the inmates who angered Seth/were dangerous were. there was the upper and lower parts of the Abyss, ill specify what each character was.

Oliver (Green eyed) and Alvirum (demonic). Oliver was to be a sacrifice, but ended up possessed by a young demon, and their souls were bonded. Oliver is mostly in control, although when threatened Alvirun takes over. Olivers mostly sweet but Alviruns mocking. They count as 11. Upper levels of the abyss.

Annie. hahaha fucking shit was she hot- Shes some sort of angelic type being, crossed with a siren. Shes a fucking jerk. I love her. Upper levels.

I loved Rax but he didnt go well with the industries. Condescending but flirty vampiric asshole. he has minor hypnotic powers, too. He got put into the upper abyss for pissing Seth off

Skylar!!! The darling was so sweet, I love him. Some sort of siren, but he was cursed by a cousin to only be able to speak the truth and the whole truth. hes also a sorcerer and knows quite a bit of magic. He probably insulted Seth and got sent down

Zayne. Psychopathic yet human serial killer. Potentially made a deal with the devil. Highly dangerous and his drive for blood outways nearly everything else. Lower abyss, one of the most dangerous.

Ive already got one for Jacob, one of the others in the lower abyss, and Zanthia would be hard to roleplay....

(thats him, hes 19)

Upper Levels This is the main part of the industries and where the safe inmates are

Abby. I didnt get much done for her, but shes some sort of wood elf and utterly adorable. easily scared and very quiet.

Alyce. Early version of Faye, part demon part human, hangs out with some other dude i forgot the name of... wait nevermind its Haydyn!! she was a killer before being captured and shes rlly bright and bubbly

bored dead inside ghost, friends with Alyce, murdered, sorta goth. tired constantly but hes nice

Celestia. Some kind of human mixed with an eldritch abomination. she cries constantly. shes grey and black and white. tragedy. her voice sounds like multiple people talking on top of each other.

Tethys. Already got an account for her. Sweet little cow girl with abandonment issues. Shes currently staying at @monsterfucker-research-wizards place.

Xander (red) and Shane (blue). Pair of brothers, Xanders the responsible one, Shane is the eternally horny masochist one, twin vampires looking for their baby sister, Evelyn.

Evelyn, 16. Technically from the abyss, but that was just to keep her secret. Been locked in a room all by herself for 10 years. Shes sweet.

Anya, some sort of deer-elf thing. Shes sweet. very shy and helpful, i love her....

Next we have the ones that were guards at the Young Industries

She doesnt have a name, or a personality yet

also unnamed and personality-less but she looks cool

then theres the ones from the library, they get their own account

The mother, Cecilia, her 9 year old daughter, May, and the first (and only one ive thought of) resident of the library, Alora. Cecilia and May are... god knows what. some kind of immortal being, teleporting around with a sanctuary for the broken, known as the library. Alora was the first one who escaped from the Young Industries and is VERY traumatised, also shy.

Then lastly just random ones

Adonis, human murderer, hes badass. not much on him yet

Erika, also badass... maybe her and Adonis are siblings

@akronus-the-redeemed @gobodegoblin @monsterfucker-research-wizard @the-cherryblossom-system @ibuildblasters @good-wizard @annotated-catastrophe @drew-bard-for-hire @wasteland-wooferbaby @blooper-malte @be-gentle-with-littluns-2 @slymewitch

#fayes characters #long post

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taldigi · 1 year ago

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If Sabrina does get added to fashion club, I'm curious to see where she falls on hero-villain spectrum. Personally, I could see two options for her. First is she's like Claude, still "evil" (though she more so just a bitch) but the whole ending the world and nullification/ erasing all emotion thing is way too far for (especially when she see what it did to Amber). The second idea is that she's like Orochi in Fav & Mad, someone to pure acts on her whims and desires and it's those whims and desires that dictate in what circumstances she's either a ally or foe to the heroes.

So, we have two designs for "precanon sabrina."

We have "Sabrina Ratif" The bible describes her as a "rule stickler" and she seems to have access to a "class call" notebook. She definitely has a "teacher's pet" energy about her. She is also described as a chatterbox- talking nonsense in order to seem interesting- and can even lie to inflate her sense of importance... turning lying into an art.

sounds a bit familiar, hm?

and we also have this design. Which still seems to lean into her "class president" or "uncool nerd girl"

wait hold on this is official documentation how did that slip through... i'm going to assume that was a translation error...

I'm assuming this piece of info about her is about the same time that art was made, as Juleka was described as "She’s a bass player in a Goth band" and her design in this line up.. lines up with the description.

(the design, if anyone needs a reminder.)

Reeling back to Ratif, (and by extension the later design) is that she is very wooed by Chloe: "She worships Chloe, whose beautiful blonde hair, matte skin and personality she admires."

(what Chloe looked like btw. Still rocking "Melody from the QK's look", while slowly transitioning into the villainess we know today.)

A pale white girl admiring someone's "matte skin and blonde hair" feels like something I am wholly unable and unequipped to make proper commentary on. But I get very very bad vibes with how Sabrina is portrayed as "worshiping her beauty" and, considering how this attitude is carried all the way through the canon show..

Well.

I understand that teens tend to judge themselves harshly compared to their peers, and that someone like Sabrina (who has a cop for a dad) might pressure herself into being someone who dresses "properly" and gets top grades. Kids get that way, desperate for approval... and when she encounters Chloe- who seems to pull off her looks flawlessly and with confidence- it's no wonder she is drawn to her, even if that relationship makes her self-esteem worse.

"Ah, her hair falls so easily into waves, and my hair is so unnameable." "Her clothes are nicer than mine" "She's able to say what she wants so freely without worrying what people think of her."

I think this is a great bedwork to elevate Chloe as a character, to show the extent of her selfishness and to use and abuse others who are emotionally fragile or are in less than ideal situations. (a thread that canon lost because she does this to ONLY Sabrina and her father... then backpedal entirely because they later have the narrative state that this is what they want. Everyone else tolerates her at best.)

Sabrina doesn't need to be a complicated character, tertiary characters don't need tons of depth and character development, and they exist to elevate other. more important characters. However, it doesn't mean that their stories can't be meaningful. Sabrina breaking free of Chloe's influence can suggest that "Even the most hopeless can break free of being star struck"

While directly unconfirmed, I think this IS her as Dragonfly. Greenhopper and Killer Bee are clearly Alix and Chloe, and the three were depicted and planned to be a trio of bullies. Plus, her red hair and green eyes pop aren't on any other character. At this time of development, it was known that the miraculous could erase disabilities, so her need for glasses was probably erased as well.

Anyway, on to how I would adapt her for FC

I think her wild hair makes her stand apart, but pulling it back into something more controlled hybridizes her design a bit and since it still translates that she's a bit more conservative and trying to keep herself together. I kept the glasses. Below the knee dress, big puffy sweater... she's got self-esteem issues and wishes so desperately she could be as bold as Alina, carefree as Alix, or as much as a shining beacon of confidence as Amber (so many A names!). So much so, that she has become a bit worshipful of Amber- swayed by her golden voice.

Her lack of self-confidence is made manifest via "Garmitt" her faerie, who is SO full of confidence that he is dead-sure that he is actually a dragon, rather than a dragonfly. It is him that pushes Sabrina to assert herself, and try to become what she wants to be.

When she sees a rule broken, she stands up for it- just like her papa- regardless of whether or not the rule was good or bad or even fair or appropriate in context: because rules are rules. She wants to make her dad proud, but he is too busy being focused on taking down the vigilantes: Ladybug and Chat Noir. So much so that it takes time from his private life- meaning his daughter is often left to grow up on her own. She wants to hate them too, but she admires them very much- Ladybug's wild creativity and Chat's confidence- and their genuine kindness to her, causes her to question what she strives to do.

For the first part of the story, she is a direct threat- the hall monitor, the enforcer. She shrieks to the teachers when something is up- she bars Marinette and Felix from escaping to deal with a wish-maker or renegade villain. She watches Marinette in the bathroom to make sure she's doing bathroom things rather than escaping class. She offers to do tasks that would help our heroes escape and threatens to debunk their alibis.

She is part of the Journalism team, working on the school paper. She's a great reporter when she tries, but her lack of confidence makes her stories lack a certain touch (for example, a new exhibit at the museum written by her is great, but she fails to interview people.) and she also fills in the gaps with white lies. However, Alina is helpful to her here, giving her genuine feedback and patience.

Unfortunately, Alan sways her easily, feigning interest in her in order to learn details- after all, she is the police chief's daughter. When Garmitt is stolen from her by the order. She is finally able to put her foot down- her indecision breaking and slowly building confidence is given a boost by the loss of her Faerie, and what the villians thought would be a person too lilly-livered and spineless to spill beans ends up being a catalyst to terrible losses. Specifically the threats of Amber & the police force... who are being heavily bribed by Fury and TsuTec.

so to summarize. She's a teacher's pet, and her story intertwines not only with LB and CN's, but Alina via the journalism club. Ultimately, she does the right thing, because despite what she does, she does view it as the right thing. She's ultimately a narrative payoff to the heroes being heroes & good people. She shows how dangerous some of the villians are- through her loss of Garmitt, manipulation by Alan and Amber, and the neglect of her father- who's obsession is fueled by corruption & money.

#Anonymous #Sabrina Ratif #sabrina raincomprix #juleka couffaine #fashion club au

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hattiestgal · 1 year ago

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SHOW ME YOUR LINEUP!!! 🫵🫵🫵💖

Oh boy oh boy!!!

Riley Foxglove (They/It/She): Fennec fox full of trauma and mischief. My sona, and the menace of Little Pocket. Bassist and vocalist for her band, BOY GIRL MISCHIEF! (<3 with Violette)

Violette Burrows (She/Her): Rat equally full of trauma, but also goth sass. Finally feels like she found home after an entire childhood spent traveling the country with her parents for business. Car mechanic and drummer for BOY GIRL MISCHIEF (<3 with Riley)

Omen Poe (He/They): Raven that is very much the falco type. Employee of a local hobby shop, tsundere but if you called them that they'd punch you, and the biggest egg you'll ever meet. Guitarist for BOY GIRL MISCHIEF! (<3 with Finnegan)

Finnegan Oakes (He/Him): Red fox soft kind boy. Wildlife photographer and trumpet player, and the carrier of many family legacies. Has a bit of an obsession with with historical aircraft, despite being avidly against war. A baker at heart (<3 with Omen)

Alex Lyn (She/Him): Spotted hyena washed out uni student who's finally figuring out his life. Avid hockey player, occasional strongman competition participant and ever sleepy. (<3 with Harlow)

Harlow Reese (They/It/Xe): Black cat equally washed out on uni, but being so silly about it. A complete nerd and appreciator of butches. Occasionally competes in super smash brothers competitions, but otherwise generally collects old obscure manga and video games (<3 with Alex)

Jack Foxglove (He/Any): Wolf tired gayboy, and older brother of Riley. A kind soul looking to help others by studying to become a therapist. Very full of punk swag and an absolute role model all round

Cake (She/It): Shiba inu girlthing. Consumer of many burgers and knower of an absurd amount of obscure facts about early generation game consoles. Collects a wide variety of retro games

Kiera (She/Her): Dragon sleazy cursed artifacts saleswoman. Actually the result of a god's divine punishment turned gender euphoria. While what she sells is cursed, she more realizes peoples fantasies while delivering justice to those who abuse their money

Lizzy (She/They): Taur arctic fox and the result of one of Kieras cursed artifact sales. Originally down on her luck, becoming a taur allowed her to capitalize on the novelty of being one to attract customers for a wide variety of services. Often appears at parties and is very well fed.

Lucy Diggs (He/Him): Rabbit loaded to the BRIM with trauma. Caught in a world constantly at war, given a new headmate with lightning powers and then quickly thrusted into the spot of figurehead for a freedom fighting rebellion to topple the system that perpetuates it he's being so brave about it.

Allison Dudz (She/Any): Albino alligator ex military soldier and mech pilot. Holds down a refuge in the abyss for those who walk it. Is actively on the run by a military force called ELIAS and the sort of kind of parental figure for Lucy. Another figurehead in the rebellion

(Currently Unnamed) (She/Her): Grey cat full of yuri related injuries. Also ex military but then she like kinda joined back in a way under a new name. Fought her way up the ranks to become the head of ELIAS

VUL-TURE (It/Its): Robot bounty hunter thats also a bit of a girlthing. Sucks at its job like really badly but tries its best. Has tried to assassinate the head of ELIAS twice to absolutely no avail

Scribley (It/Any/All/Your Pronouns): ??? BADASS AND INSANE. A BEING BEYOND GODHOOD MADE OF PURE MAGIC. UNSTOPPABLE BY ANY KNOWN MEANS

#hat answers #my art #my ocs #like all of the ones ive talked about in any meaningful capacity #split up by universes #all characters up to cake are from the little pocket universe #kiera and lizzy are from a different unnamed universe #lucy through to vulture are the abyss universe #and scribley is transcendent and can travel freely #this was so fucking long to write oh my god #but theres all of em #i have more but ehhhhhh

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waywardrose · 1 year ago

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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 24

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.6k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Idk if the Cali group arrives in Hawkins on Saturday or Sunday. I'm going with Saturday. If that's wrong, well, this fic isn't canon compliant anyway. Also, Unnamed Freak (aka Dave) has a canon name now with Flight of Icarus: Dougie. I've corrected this entire fic on all platforms. If I've missed a "Dave" somewhere, please tell me. 🖤

The phone rang, jolting you from your research. On reflex, you stretched across the spread of opened spell books for the phone on the nightstand. Then you remembered you weren’t at home. You sat on the bed in one of Steve’s guestrooms.

When he didn’t ask you to answer the phone, you straightened and found where you’d left off. The ringing ceased, then Steve’s voice drifted through the open door. At one time, it would’ve been an annoyance. Now, it reminded you that you weren’t alone. You had people who knew you for who you were and weren’t wary of your abilities.

Last night, Robin had stayed through dinner and Back to the Future. Working at Family Video had its perks, because there was a waitlist to rent it. Robin and Steve had talked through the entire movie, asking about you and sharing about themselves, but you hadn’t minded. You learned that ‘Scoops’ was Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream parlor. It must be a Midwestern chain, because you’d never heard of it.

Robin bragged Steve had slung so much ice cream, they had to put in special orders. Steve shrugged, all bravado, yet his flushed cheeks belied his cool demeanor.

“You should’ve seen some of the girls who came in,” Robin had said, face reverent. “They must’ve come from Fort Wayne or Indy—”

Eyes wide, Steve had interrupted. “Yeah, they weren’t local, that’s for sure.”

You’d glanced at him, then at Robin. He’d tried to divert the conversation. Maybe to protect her? That had made no sense until you remembered you were in the Midwest, where homosexuality — or even bisexual tendencies — was anathema.

To Robin, you asked with a sly look: “That hot, huh?”

“God, I could barely keep eye con—” She curled her lips between her teeth, but rallied. “I mean, they were, like, super intimidating.”

You grinned with a minute shake of your head.

“No, I get it. Girls are hot.”

“Yeah…” she breathed, eyes going glassy. “Girls are hot.”

The conversation had paused as George confronted Biff on screen. When George and Lorraine walked away together, you’d reached for your drink and glimpsed Steve holding Robin’s hand. He noticed you noticing and opened his mouth to speak. You stopped him with an understanding look.

“So, is there a girl at school you like?” you’d asked before taking a sip.

Robin glanced at Steve, who’d offered an encouraging shrug. She’d smiled, giddy and love-struck, and gushed about Vickie. According to Robin, she looked like Molly Ringwald, but even cuter. Vickie was talented and funny and smart. Steve insisted Vickie was into her despite what they’d seen at The War Zone. Robin waved it away, saying Vickie had a boyfriend. It was a lost cause. She’d pine from afar.

You’d said, “Well, not necessarily. She could be bi.”

“I don’t know? It doesn’t seem likely.” She’d gnawed on her bottom lip. “I would normally say that’s ridiculous, because this is Hawkins, but—” She gestured at herself.

You’d narrowed your eyes playfully.

“You could still win fair maiden’s heart.”

Steve laughed. “You sound like Munson.”

“What can I say? He’s rubbed off on me.”

Robin had snorted. “Yeah, I bet that’s not the only thing he’s done.” You’d giggled even as your face heated. You grinned now thinking about it.

Knuckles rapped on the doorjamb. Steve stood in the doorway, the sleeves of his teal henley pushed up his forearms. His perfectly tousled hair framed his face, his jeans showed off the goods, and his Nikes were clean.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, lookin’ good.”

He put a hand on the back of his head and looked down as if bashful. Like he didn’t know how handsome he was.

You asked, “Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, that was Nance on the phone. She wants to donate some stuff at the school, and I offered her a lift. I think I’m going to volunteer while I’m there, too. You know, whatever they need.”

“That’s…” You first thought ‘surprising,’ but that was insulting. “That’s really generous of you.” You glanced at your suitcase overflowing with clean laundry. “Actually, I bet I have a few things someone else could use.”

“Oh, wow, sure.” He nodded. “You wanna come with?” He waggled a hand. “I mean, I know you’re not ready, but I was going to call Robin and Dustin. See if they wanna join.”

“I want to, but I can’t. I need to heal Lucas and Max.” You gestured to all the opened books. “That’s what I’m researching.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

He pointed at his left eye.

“Wouldn’t everything be a little easier if you had both?”

“Probably, but Max is worse than I am, so…” You looked at the books. “I can manage.”

He surprised you a second time when he said, “It’s hard to take that ‘put your own oxygen mask on first’ advice, but you should consider it.”

You met his earnest eyes.

“I will.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. You should be the guinea pig before you sprung a healing spell on Lucas or Max. While you were certain a healing spell would never harm, that didn’t mean it would be effective.

Marking your place in the book you’d been reading, you eased off the bed. You knelt in front of your suitcase to pick out a few pairs of socks, a free promo t-shirt you wore when cleaning, and a pair of tartan trousers you hadn’t worn since moving.

There was more at home you’d be happy to donate. You realized you could drop in after healing Max to pick up more — as long as your parents hadn’t returned.

When Steve stopped at your door, you handed over the clothes and told him of your plan. He brightened with a nod. You jokingly assured him not all your clothes were black and scary.

He lifted the stack of clothes.

“Just most of them.”

You laughed as he smiled at you.

He stepped back and said he was leaving, adding he’d leave the spare key on the foyer console. You thanked him and wished him luck before he skipped down the stairs.

As the front door snicked closed, you plucked the book from the bed and found a white tea-candle in your magic supplies. After placing both on the en-suite bathroom counter, you flipped on the light. With a deep inhale, you found your center. Time to be a guinea pig. You opened the book and lit the candle.

Holding your fingertips above the flame, you said, “Magic mend as candle burns; Affliction end and health returns.”

You brought your warmed fingers to the dark, tender bruise on your jaw and repeated the chant. Your skin heated almost to the point of pain. You closed your eyes to concentrate on the feeling. Tendrils of cooling energy twisted through your flesh. You shivered and breathed through it.

Once the tendrils dissipated, you opened your eyes and withdrew your fingers. The bruise was gone. You wiggled your jaw, then put pressure where the bruise had been to find it recovered. Like Jason had never punched you.

That was one injury — and the lesser of the two.

You slipped the pressure patch from your eye and examined your reflection. The cursed eye was like any other injury, you rationalized. Surgeons removed damaged bits of the eye all the time. You were no surgeon, of course. You weren’t removing damage; you were healing it. That was different.

You couldn’t psych yourself out, though. It was like making the Creel house go unnoticed on Thursday. Size didn’t matter. Hence, the extent of the injury didn’t matter. It was all the same and all connected. There was plenty of energy in the candle, in the spell, in the universe, and in you to heal this.

You took a few deep breaths before holding your fingertips above the flame and reciting the chant. You closed your eyes as warm energy gathered. You brought your fingers to your left eye, swallowed the mounting tension in your throat, and repeated the chant.

Your fingers went numb. Heat radiated from your eye like needles of fire. Lightning burned under your skin. The floor left your feet. Or your feet left the floor. You couldn’t find the counter. You couldn’t move or think or orient yourself.

You clawed at the dark like a panicked animal. Red flashed across your vision. Rotting vines slithered across every surface, growing thicker. Their musty, sour smell invaded your nose. Your heartbeat thundered through the room. Red flashed again. A figure made of sharp edges and pain moved behind the vines. You stepped back. They stepped back. You reached forward. They reached forward. You screamed at them. Their mouth opened as though mocking you.

You charged forward to thrust your hand between the vines. Your palm hit cold glass. You met the figure’s eyes. They were your own.

You stumbled away. Your back slammed into something hard. Each blink of your eyes tore you through different realities. The gray Upside Down, your sunny reality, glowing lava fields, a silent city made of slate, a world full of unvoiced secrets, neon lights and the scent of stale beer. Time curved in on itself. No future, no past. On and on it flowed until you yelled for it to stop, stop, stop.

The soft bathmat cushioned your calves. You held onto the counter edge with your forehead pressed against the wood cabinet. The side of your nose filled the left border of your vision.

The spell hadn’t worked.

“Shit.”

You hauled yourself to your knees and braced your elbows on the counter. Thin tracks of blood ran down your reflection’s left cheek.

“Shit.”

You stood and bent over the sink to examine closer in the mirror. The cursed eye didn’t look any worse. Its milky pupil and iris were the same as before. Rheumy blood flaked under your touch.

If the spell hadn’t worked for you, you doubted it would work for Max. She’d taken part of the curse, the same as you. Your eye wasn’t only injured. It stood to reason her arm wasn’t only broken. Then you remembered both her eyes looked like your left.

This was more complex than any healing spell could manage—

Which you said to Lucas after mending his swollen cheek and eye.

From behind him, Erica asked, “Can’t you kill this son of a bitch already?”

You glanced over her shoulder at Susan, who slept on the alcove couch.

“I don’t know if a spell would reach him.”

Lucas turned to Erica.

“And if she kills him, she could kill Max.”

You frowned.

“Why do you think that?”

“El said she couldn’t find Max,” he said, tapping his temple.

He’d explained when you’d first arrived the other members of the party were back in town. On Thursday, El had fought Vecna by connecting to Max’s mind, while Vecna was also connected to Max. El then said Vecna had roared in pain and disintegrated into smoke in his own mindscape. Nancy had connected that to her shooting him and Robin Molotov-ing him.

El had seen Max unconscious in Lucas’s arms afterwards. She felt Max’s steady heartbeat then. Max’s heart continued to beat, which the EKG confirmed. However, El entered Max’s mind this morning to find a void.

“You think she’s with Vecna?” you asked.

Erica said, “Or she’s brain-dead.”

Lucas’s face became a mask of absolute anguish.

“Harsh,” you said to her.

Erica shrugged in lieu of saying it was a possibility. It might be, but you didn’t want to give up hope just yet. Lucas returned to the bedside chair to page through The Talisman. There had to be something you could do or something you could offer.

Erica cursed under her breath and went to Susan. After Erica repeated Susan’s name and shook her shoulder numerous times, she woke with a grumble. Erica announced it was two o’clock. Susan blinked in sullen confusion. Erica said Susan had work at four.

Susan’s voice was hoarse when she said, “O-of course. Thank you.”

Erica backed away as Susan coughed with a wince and sat up. She sounded like shit. Her pallid face looked more tired than yesterday.

You asked, “Would you like some water?”

Her drowsy eyes settled on you.

“Oh, you’re back.” She couldn’t seem to muster a smile, but she looked pleased. “It’s good to see you.”

Without waiting for an answer, you went to the squat pitcher and disposable cups on the overbed table and poured her some cool water. Her hands trembled as she took the cup from you, but she managed drinking half the water in one go. That appeared to revive her, and you offered her more.

She nodded with a soft, “Yes, please.”

As you filled her cup, you thought of a quick blessing. She needed strength to see this situation through. For all you knew, she might be the key to bringing Max back, because despite what Erica said, you didn’t think Max was brain-dead.

By the time Susan finished the water, her green eyes had brightened. She stood, fluffed her hair, and straightened her rumpled clothes. She announced she was going back to the motel to shower and change before work, and if anything happened, to give her a call.

You, Lucas, and Erica promised. Susan nodded to herself and hooked her purse over her shoulder. She went to Max, righted one of her braids, and murmured something to her. She hesitated a second, taking a quick look around, before leaving the room.

You placed the pitcher on the overbed table and threw Susan’s cup in the bathroom wastebasket. The tense silence made you aware of every noise you made, from the swish of the wastebasket liner to the crinkle of your clothes and faint footsteps. Rhythmic squeaking of wheels came from the corridor.

Watching the EKG display, you thought of something you could do:

“I can look for Max, too. I don’t have El’s powers, of course, but Max and I, we’re connected.” You shook your head. “I… I might have a better chance of finding her or finding a clue to get her back.”

Lucas asked, “Are you sure?”

“What if Vecna’s got her, and he takes you?” Erica leaned her elbows on the overbed table. “Then we’re down a magic-user — and we need as many as we can get.”

“He can’t get me here. He tried before and he failed.”

“But you died.”

“And yet, here I am, talking to you.”

“Died.”

You threw out your hands. There was no arguing that fact. Yes, you had died. Yes, Vecna’s curse had killed you. Nevertheless, you were alive. Also, Vecna was wounded.

Lucas asked, “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know? Connect with her somehow?”

You thought of psychometry. Through touch you’d seen Eddie’s past. Perhaps through touch you could see Max’s. If you could see when the curse hit her from her point of view, maybe that would show you how to get her back.

“Maybe I can’t communicate with her,” you said. “But I might be able to see how Vecna took her.”

“Then you could reverse his steps.”

“Something like that, sure.”

Lucas sighed in thought, tapping his fingers on the book. He came to a conclusion before looking at you.

“It’s worth a shot.”

Erica huffed in disapproval and retreated to the couch.

You propped a hip on the bed, facing Max. Her delicate fingers curled over the cast. You tucked your hand around them and closed your eye.

Unlike with Eddie, you didn’t have to tell Max to relax and trust you. You loosened your shoulders, breathing deep. You focused on her hand, the stillness of her fingers and the fine skin of her knuckles.

The room went cold. Ambient noise disappeared. The mattress sagged under your weight.

Max’s grip tightened.

You opened your eyes. The pressure patch was gone — as was Max’s cast. She stared at you through milky eyes in a younger face. Her now-smaller hand held fast to yours.

The world went wound-red and drained of life. Only you and she remained in the room. No leaves grew on the trees outside. A motionless, stormy sky hovered close. You were in a frozen, bloody version of your world, like a paused horror movie.

“I can’t sleep,” said Max.

“You’re sleeping in our world.”

“What? How?”

“This isn’t your world.”

“Am I dreaming?”

You hadn’t considered that. She could be dream-walking. If she were, why would she choose this? Why would she be younger?

You said, “I don’t know, but you need to leave this place.”

“You mean I need to wake up?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I can’t. I can’t switch back. I don’t know how.” She frowned. “Where’s El?”

“I don’t know.”

Instinct kept you from telling her El had been at the hospital to visit her earlier in the day. This younger Max could be an illusion. You could be talking to Vecna. Or Vecna could be listening.

“How did you get here?” you asked.

“I was fighting Vecna, and he threw me. Everything went dark.”

“And then?”

“And then I woke up in the goddamn Upside Down.”

You examined the room, noticing how much differed from what you’d seen through the tumbler.

“You sure this is the Upside Down?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s red, and where are the vines? The lightning? The demo-creatures?”

From nowhere, an invisible force pushed you backwards. Your foot skidded across the floor. You held onto Max’s hand. She bent forward to stay with you, then struggled to her knees. Your hip dropped off the crumbling mattress. You gripped the edge of the tattered sheets until they tore.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

“Don’t go!”

“I’m trying!”

But there was nothing to fight against.

You met her panicked gaze.

“We’ll find you! Wherever you are, we’ll find you!”

Your heel hit the floor. You lost your hold on Max’s hand. She screamed your name, crawling to the end of the bed. You pitched backwards, your heel the focal point. For a second, it felt like flying.

You landed hard on your side. Your ears rang. Like Dorothy landing in Oz, the world bloomed in technicolor. The pressure patch was back. Hands rolled you onto your back. Above you, Lucas and Erica blurred and sharpened. Their mouths moved, but their voices couldn’t overpower the ringing. You touched Lucas’s shoulder to confirm you’d returned.

The room dimmed. Shadows deepened. The three of you paused.

Red light flared through the window. Thunder vibrated the glass, restoring your hearing. You froze. You’d brought the Upside Down — or wherever you’d been — with you. Any second, those rotting vines would slither over the walls, the floor, Max’s bed.

Lucas helped you sit. Erica peered at the window on the other side of the bed. The clouds darkened further. When the vines didn’t appear, you used the bedframe to hoist yourself to your feet. Erica went to the window first, Lucas right behind her. You followed them, keeping to the shadows. You dared not look at any reflective surface, lest that sharp-edged figure look back.

Red lightning cut through the iron gray tower of smoke now spewing from the mega-gate’s nexus. Deafening thunder shook your bones. Warmth quaked in your gut a second later, silver and true. It filled the emptiness that had settled days ago.

Pitch black surrounded him. He lay on ice — or something like it. It curved around the back of his bare arms, cooled his body numb. So numb he couldn’t move. And he needed to move. There was work to do, someone to find, wrongs to right. Too much had gone wrong in the world. Too many injustices to name. He could make it right. He could help, gather, hunt.

Blood hung in the air. Screeches echoed through his mind, a hungry call for vengeance. Vines pulsed with wrath. The Source promised a righteous purpose larger than himself. The Source was a kindred soul: misunderstood, rejected, and enraged by the world’s hypocrisy. They were misfits together.

And there was no need to be frightened of anything anymore.

He searched the dark, his fingers not offering the answers he needed. He moved his legs and found the curve of the surface he lay on. Raising a foot, his toe bumped into something hard and smooth inches above. He let his heel fall as he walked his hands across the surface. He pulled it down his body. Whatever he was on moved instead.

He walked his hands above his head to find more of the same smooth surface. To his left were round protrusions, like bolts. Yes, he thought, bolts. Bolts meant hinges. Hinges were weak points.

More bolts were on the right. That was the hinge. The left was the handle. Handles were weak points, too.

He placed his palm on the handle bolts.

The Source said he could free himself. Something as mundane as this wouldn’t injure him.

He slammed the heel of his palm below the bolts. The handle rattled. He struck a second time. The handle whined. He struck again. The handle clanged in the background. He waited for someone to come investigate — police, a guard, even an assistant. He pushed the hatch open and waited a few minutes more. It was nominally brighter beyond, yet there was enough light to see he lay on a metal drawer.

He pulled himself through the portal. The drawer rumbled. Still, no one came. All around the portal were similar metal doors with chrome latch handles. He recognized it for the morgue it was.

He’d been dead. He was dead.

The Source contradicted the thought, saying everyone had mistaken him for dead. They’d not looked close enough. They’d abandoned him. They’d thrown him away. Only Source accepted him and had seen him for the valuable individual he’d always been.

He sat and scooted up the drawer to maneuver his legs out. The skin on his torso pulled. He looked down and gagged. Lines of black stitches or patches of missing flesh disfigured his chest and stomach. He touched the flap of skin on a patch on his right side. It should’ve hurt—

Nothing hurt.

He should’ve been cold. He’d been in a refrigerated box for who knows how long, but he wasn’t.

The Source assured him he was beyond pain.

His right calf and left thigh had been gnawed on, too. Someone had attempted to repair the damage with more black stitches. Those injuries didn’t pull like his torso.

That hardly mattered, though. He needed to leave— wherever the fuck he was. He needed clothes for that, because he was very, very naked. Making anything right usually required covering your ass.

He slipped off the drawer, landing on feet that didn’t feel like his own. His legs wobbled. Every wound protested as he straightened. The skin stretched little by little until he could stand.

A shelving unit stacked with linens stood by the main door. He found a scrub top and held it up. His bare hands felt as naked as the rest of him. That wasn’t how it should be. He only took off— No, he hadn’t taken off anything. He was supposed to see someone. They were waiting— No, no one was waiting for him. Everyone thought he was useless — and dead.

He was forgetting someone— No, they’d forgotten him. He touched his upper chest. Something should be there. They’d stolen something from him.

Yes, someone had taken something from them. He needed to find this person— No, wait for this person. They had an essential component in Source’s plan, and he had to capture it.

“Something’s changed,” you said.

“Uh, yeah,” said Lucas, pointing towards the window. “The Upside Down is invading Hawkins.”

You shook your head.

“No, I feel the pull of something.”

You didn’t want to say you felt the silver flame of Eddie’s energy for the first time in days. That sounded hokey even to yourself. If the emptiness — which had to have been Eddie — was filled, it meant Eddie was alive. You couldn’t desert him. You had to find him.

Erica said, “You can’t go now.”

Lucas nodded.

“The party doesn’t separate.”

“Even if it’s for a member of the party?”

“Who is it?”

“I think it’s Eddie.”

“What about Max?” he asked. “Did you find her?”

With a nod, you explained the paused, red world where Max couldn’t sleep. Max thought she was dreaming, but you weren’t sure it was her dream. You theorized it was an illusion to keep her stuck. There had to be something to get her unstuck. She wanted to switch back, but she didn’t know how.

“She exists in two worlds,” you said. “Her body in ours, her mind in another.”

“Or in Vecna’s mind.”

“We have to unite her,” said Erica.

“She asked where El was, but I didn’t tell her. Because I don’t know, and because I didn’t want Vecna finding out.” The pull of Eddie being alive nagged at your consciousness, and you shook your head. “Look, I can’t stay. I gotta find Eddie.” You grabbed your purse from where you’d left it by the door. “Guard Max. Hide her, if you have to.”

Erica and Lucas shared a look.

“We can do that,” he said.

You gave them a nod before leaving the room. Eddie’s energy drew you outside. Though you didn’t understand, you took the service stairs down. Hospital personnel pushed open doors and passed you on the stairs without questioning you.

While the first-floor corridors bustled with people and staff, a hushed tension overlaid every conversation. You swerved around anxious groups of two or three and the occasional thousand-yard-stare loner.

Outside, the scent of smoke and hot ozone had your eyes near burning and your nose on the verge of running. Ash fell like snow from the low ceiling of the clouds. It disappeared when it touched your skin.

You brought your shirt collar over your nose, then crossed the parking lot to your car. You stowed your purse in the trunk and pocketed the keys. There, you hesitated. If Eddie wasn’t in the hospital, he could be anywhere. Perhaps Wayne had identified him and took him to another hospital. However, there wasn’t another hospital in Hawkins. Maybe he was at a doctor’s office. His wounds might’ve looked worse than they were. That didn’t explain his absence from Indra’s net or his reappearance, though.

You turned to the path that led through the trees at the back of the parking lot. Except for funeral homes, only the hospital and coroner’s office could store dead bodies. If Eddie was in a funeral home, word about it would’ve been everywhere by now.

His energy wasn’t far, yet it was muddled, like poor reception on a TV. You tried getting more of a read on him. Pain lit your nerves, making you back off. You pressed your shirt over the bridge of your nose and breathed deep.

Fine, you thought. The coroner’s office it is.

You had to get yourself worked up. An injured girl near tears could get sympathetic assistance and soothing information. You made your breath shallow and rapid as you marched across the parking lot. You brought to mind every stressor: your father rejecting your every idea, being a stranger in this town, Vecna disfiguring your face after stealing your magic, making mistake after mistake and not finding the strength to get over it or fix it, finding Eddie and losing him all in one night.

Tears rimmed your eyes as you walked under the coroner’s office awning. You righted your shirt and pushed at the door. It clanked in its frame.

“What the hell?”

You caught your breath. Maybe you had to pull it. You tried that, earning another clank.

It was locked. Still.

That was complete bullshit.

Your tears evaporated as you grit your teeth. You would not be kept from him any longer. It didn’t matter if he was alive, dead, or undead. You would see Eddie.

You placed a palm over the deadbolt.

“You are undone,” you whispered to it.

Its screws unwound and fell to the floor. The outside cover tumbled off. The interior mechanism flicked open and teetered in the hole. You encouraged it to drop with a jab.

You swiped the cover from the sidewalk before entering the building. Inside, you gathered the deadbolt pieces and dumped them in a potted plant in the dim waiting room. You went to the empty check-in counter to find the area beyond it vacated and dark, save for the blinking lights of the desk phone.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind the reinforced door to your left. With nowhere to run, you put on an innocent expression and curled your shoulders inward. A guard in fatigues tore back the door while another rushed into the waiting room, guns in hand.

“Hands up!” said the closest guard as the door closed behind them.

You raised your hands as your gaze bounced from one to the other. They both had black armbands with MP decorating the side. Military police. Your hunch yesterday about the Humvees had been correct.

“How did you get in here?”

“The front door?” You glanced at it. “The lock’s gone.”

“State your business.”

“I can’t find my-my parents.” You didn’t have to force any nervousness with two guns pointed at you. “They’re not at the hospital. And… and-and the ER told me to check he-here.”

The MPs scowled.

A frenzy of banging and clanging came from behind the door. The MPs turned from you with guns at the ready. You took a step back, heart in your throat.

What were they keeping back there?

The door flew off its hinges, springing off the linoleum by its corner. It ricocheted and crashed into an MP, who toppled to the floor. The door landed to cover his top half. His gun skidded into the waiting room.

“Back away!” yelled the remaining MP. “Hands up!”

You turned your attention away from the gun, thinking he yelled at you. Rather, his attention was on the person in the doorway.

You almost didn’t believe your eyes. You’d expected a demogorgon or some other sort of hellish creature. It was neither. It was Eddie. Unmistakable, even backlit by the severe hallway light. His usually wild hair hung limp around his face. Green scrubs had replaced his clothes.

Eddie hissed at the MP and stomped onto the collapsed door. The MP underneath bleated in protest.

If he kept on like this, he was going to be shot.

“Eddie?”

He turned his focus on you, his blank expression so unlike himself.

The MP shouted, “I said, hands up!”

Eddie’s eyes had you taking another step back. They were like your left: cursed. His skin was waxen like the dead. A tag hung from his big toe. You didn’t know who this was, but he wasn’t your Eddie. He felt like him, looked like him, had his silver flame, but he wasn’t Eddie.

The door was less than a yard away. You could make it out before anyone would reach you. Once outside, you could dash to your car — or lead Eddie away from the hospital.

You pivoted on one foot. A cold body plowed into yours. Hands grabbed your upper arms. The check-in counter dug into your back. Eddie reared up over you.

He’d moved too fast to be natural. In comparison, the MP turned in slow motion.

Eddie pulled the pressure patch down your face.

With a pleased look, he said, “Ah, I see you’re half ours already.”

His breath smelled of old blood.

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Have you join us?”

He leaned in to drag his nose over your cheek, inhaling as he went. You closed your eyes and pinched your mouth shut. His dry, cracked lips skipped up your cheek.

“Pretty, pretty witch.”

“Show me your hands,” ordered the MP.

“Should I let him shoot me?” Eddie asked you.

“Don’t shoot,” you called over his shoulder. “He’s… He’s not hurting me.”

Eddie hummed in your ear. “Take me to Max.”

You couldn’t let him get his hands on her. He’d take her to Vecna. If Vecna had you, Max, and Eddie — all cursed in one manner or another — it would be a recipe for destruction. He’d drain you like a vampire, sacrifice Eddie, and use Max as a pawn. Or maybe something even worse. You couldn’t let any of that happen.

You arched away to look into Eddie’s cursed eyes, so much like your own. You’d tear Vecna limb from limb for this. Apart from El, only you had power enough to destroy him. And you could with the Eradix spell you’d found on Thursday.

“Step away from the girl!”

Eddie snarled and turned his head like a predator. He released your arms before you could protest. You reached for his shirt to keep him with you. Your fingers grasped air.

A triple pop of gunfire had you hunching and covering your head. The waiting room window shattered. A gust of smoke and ash poured into the building. Boots shuffled across the floor. The MP grunted as something clattered.

You wanted to look, make sure Eddie hadn’t been shot, but you needed to get out of there. A wet gurgle and grind turned your stomach. You scurried to the main door, pulling it open. Wind dragged the door from your hand. It thudded against the wall.

With a flinch, you peeked over your shoulder. Eddie stared back. Blood dripped down his chin. The MP hung slack from his hands.

Everything narrowed.

Then everything sharpened as you steadied the main door and sprinted to the street.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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rainbowdoggieunicorn · 15 days ago

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Serial Designation S (Starling Clady) Character bio

GENERAL INFO

Name: Serial Designation S (Starling Clady) Character for: Murder Drones Voice actress/actor: Andrea Libman (Human, Worker and Disassembly Drone) Ashleigh Ball (Demon Mode) Age: 18 (Human and Worker Drone) 26(Currently Disassembly Drone) Species: Human: Afro-Irish British-American(Formally), Worker Drone (Formally) Disassembly Drone (currently) Gender: AFAB Genderfluid, Transmasc,Unlabeled and Genderfae Pronouns: She/He/They/It/Paw/Cotton/Candy/Teddy/Ursa/Fae. Sexuality: Bisexual, Polyamorous and Cupidromantic Zodiac sign: Aries Nickname(s):Rainbow, Ra1nB0w, Ra1nB0w_CVlt(ID), Ra1nB0w_C4lt(Username), S, Rainbow Goth Girl, R41n80w-F1uid, Ra1nb0w-F1uid, Rainbow Devil, Scene Goth, Chroma(Fake name), Rainbow Demon, Pink Demon, Bear Girl, 8ear_G1rl, C0tt0n_C4ndy, Teddy, PuppyGirl, Shapeshifter and Human Drone DOB: March 28th XXXX Alignment (good, evil, neutral): Chaotic Good Occupation (if needed): Worked with JCJenson(Formally) Unemployed but Make Plushies as Side-Hustle(Currently) Theme Song: Rainbow Girl-S3rl ft. Tamika

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Build: Plus Size(Formally) Skinny and Robotic(Worker Drone and Disassembly Drone) Skin Color: Mild Caramel Skin Tone(Formally) White Chrome(Currently) Hair/Fur Color: Black (Formally), Half Black and Half Rainbow Eye Color: Brown(Formally), Neon White(Currently) Lust(Demon) Hair Style: Possibly a Like a Wolf-cut with a Widow's Peak Wears: Almost like a mix of Rainbow Goth and Scene Kid. (Devil Horns One Rainbow and One Monochrome, Sky Blue Shirt with A Bipolar symbol on it, Gloves(Monochrome and Rainbow) Primary color Shorts, and Fluffy legwarmers (Monochrome and Rainbow) Psychological Disabilities: PTSD and Bipolar Disorder II Neurological Disabilities: Autism Extra (Y/N): has a Collar, a Demon Wings Tattoo that is Pink on her back, some faded scars, and a Devil Tail Disassembly Drone Tail.

WHAT DO THEY LIKE?

Personality: Energetic, Happy, Quirky, Creativity, Bubbly, Native, Lovely-Dovey, Bookworm, Carefree, Childish, Playful, Short-Temper, Fashion Freak, Murderous, Troublesome, Energetic, Bubbly, Smart, Happy-go-Lucky, Warm-hearted, Sense of justice, Diligence(sort of), Stubbornness, Hyperactive and Outgoing. Favorite food: Chicken Tenders and Batteries Likes: Being a Scene, Neon Colors, Being Quirky, Acting like a fool, laughing, Pastel Colors, Bunnies, Puppies, being creative, Drawing, Coloring,2010's Stuff, Rainbow, Scene Fashion, The Color Pink, Plushies, Reading, Drawing, Making Plushies, Cartoons, Anime, Furries, Cute and Dark Things, Toys, Dolls, Candy, Cakes, Ice Cream, Fruits, Books, Helping others, The Circus, Cosplay, Comic Books, Horror Movies, Movies, Making Some Friends, Napping, Heavy Metal, Pop Music, Kawaii Metal And Napping. Dislikes: Killing Worker Drone, Bad Memories, Mean People, Bullies, Jerks, Her Bullies, Getting in Trouble, Her Past, When someone Makes fun of her, Going to school, Forgetting Things, Rotten Food, Being woken up, When told what she can and can't do, Loud Perfume(Allergies) and kids being rude. Fears: The Dark, Spiders, Death, Heights, Very Big Flags, and Throwing Up. Backstory: When She was a Human she had a Abusive life as a kid. She worked at JCJenson at 16 for College stuff but JCJenson had plans for her… They decided to give her a Therapist who gave them personal information about JCJenson because she was pretty much a Suicidal person. So on her 18th Birthday, they agreed to Convert Her into a Worker Drone for Project Human Drone. She loved being a Worker Drone until the Absolute Solver Converted many Workers into Disassembly Drones. She was many. She also landed on Copper 9 with barely any memories of her former life. But Love J and Uzi Doorman.

Power(s): Shapeshifting, Voice mimicry, Flight and Telepathy.

PERSONAL QUOTES

Quote 1: "HAI!'

Quote 2: "Eat Me!"

Quote 3: "Fuck off!"

Quote 4: "Shut up!"

Quote 5: "Rawr XD!"

RELATIONS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS

Family members/relatives: Unnamed Mom and Dad(Deceased), Zither(Youngest Sister)(Deceased),Transience(Grandma(Mom's Side)(Deceased) and others Deceased Family members Friends: N, V, Thad, Lizzy, Khan, Teacher and others Enemies: None at the moment Crush: Uzi Doorman and J Who has a crush on them?: Thad

#original character #murder drones #murder drones fandom #character bio #murder drones oc #Murder drones Original character #disassembly drone #disassembly drone oc

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could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler · 3 months ago

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THIS WEEK’S EPISODE OF NXTB (Next X-Treme Tumblr Blorbo)

RAYLA PROVES HER WORTH

Previously, current NXTB Women’s Champion Yoruichi Shihouin (Bleach) decided to pick Rayla (The Dragon Prince) as her next opponent for the title. Rayla, surprised that she was picked, thanked Yoruichi for the opportunity…but also made it known that she intends on taking the championship.

Rayla becoming #1 contender has stirred a bit of controversy in the NXTB locker room. The people pissed at this development are:

1) Jinx (Teen Titans 2003), the leader of the Goth Girl Alliance. Recently, the GGA scored a victory over Keyleth (The Legend of Vox Machina) after Jinx hit Keyleth while the referee’s back was turned.

2) Maka Albarn (Soul Eater), the partner of the current NXTB North American Champion, Soul Evans. Part of the reason why Maka wants to be champion is so that she and Soul could call themselves a “champion duo”.

3) Samantha LaRusso (Cobra Kai), who wants to bring the NXTB Women’s Championship to Eagle Fang Karate. She also hopes that by becoming champion, she can restore Eagle Fang’s reputation with the audience since Johnny Lawrence managed to piss everyone off.

With 3 other women wanting a shot at the title, the unnamed commissioner decided to give Rayla a chance to prove herself. If Rayla can win a Fatal 4-Way match against Jinx, Maka, and Samantha, then Rayla can keep her #1 contender position…

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llorom4nn1c · 1 year ago

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♡౨ৎ Books I want to read in 2024! ౨ৎ♡

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

I'm currently reading Earthlings by Sayaka Murata, which will likely be my last or second last book of 2023 depending on how much time I'll have to read during the holidays. So I've decided to make a reading list of the books I would like to read in 2024. At the time of typing this, I've read 36 books in 2023 and I hope to read even more next year!

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 Boy Parts ♡ Eliza Clark

Genres: Fiction, horror, contemporary

Synopsis: Irina obsessively takes explicit photographs of the average-looking men she persuades to model for her, scouted from the streets of Newcastle. Placed on sabbatical from her dead-end bar job, she is offered an exhibition at a fashionable London gallery, promising to revive her career in the art world and offering an escape from her rut of drugs, alcohol, and extreme cinema. The news triggers a self-destructive tailspin, centred around Irina’s relationship with her obsessive best friend, and a shy young man from her local supermarket who has attracted her attention.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 Carmilla ♡ Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

Genres: Horror, gothic, fiction

Synopsis: Isolated in a remote mansion in a central European forest, Laura longs for companionship—until a carriage accident brings another young woman into her life: the secretive and sometimes erratic Carmilla. As Carmilla’s actions become more puzzling and volatile, Laura develops bizarre symptoms, and as her health goes into decline, Laura and her father discover something monstrous.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 Elvis and Me ♡ Priscilla Presley

Genres: Nonfiction, biography, memoir

Synopsis: Decades after his death, millions of fans continue to worship Elvis the legend. But very few knew him as Elvis the man. Here in her own words, Priscilla Presley tells the story of their love, revealing the details of their first meeting, their marriage, their affairs, their divorce, and the unbreakable bond that has remained long after his tragic death.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 Goth ♡ Otsuichi

Genres: Horror, fiction, mystery

Synopsis: Morino is the strangest girl in school - how could she not be, given her obsession with brutal murders? And there are plenty of murders to grow obsessed with, as the town in which she lives is a magnet for serial killers. She and her schoolmate will go to any length to investigate the murders, even putting their own bodies on the line. And they don’t want to stop the killers - Morino and her friend simply want to understand them.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 Grotesque ♡ Natsuko Kirino

Genres: Fiction, horror, mystery

Synopsis: Life at the prestigious Q High School for Girls in Tokyo exists on a precise social a world of insiders and outsiders, of haves and have-nots. Beautiful Yuriko and her unpopular, unnamed sister exist in different spheres; the hopelessly awkward Kazue Sato floats around among them, trying to fit in.Years later, Yuriko and Kazue are dead — both have become prostitutes and both have been brutally murdered.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 Lapvona ♡ Ottessa Moshfegh

Genres: Fiction, horror, historical fiction

Synopsis: Little Marek, the abused and delusional son of the village shepherd, never knew his mother; his father told him she died in childbirth. One of life’s few consolations for Marek is his enduring bond with the blind village midwife, Ina. Ina’s gifts extend beyond childcare: she possesses a unique ability to communicate with the natural world. Her gift often brings her the transmission of sacred knowledge on levels far beyond those available to other villagers. For some people, Ina’s home in the woods outside of the village is a place to fear and to avoid. Among their number is Father Barnabas, the town priest and lackey for the depraved lord and governor, Villiam. The people’s desperate need to believe that there are powers that be who have their best interests at heart is put to a cruel test by Villiam and the priest. But when fate brings Marek into violent proximity to the lord’s family, new and occult forces upset the old order. By year’s end, the veil between blindness and sight, life and death, the natural world and the spirit world, civility and savagery, will prove to be very thin indeed.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 Kamikaze Girls ♡ Novala Takemoto

Genres: Fiction, young adult, contemporary

Synopsis: Meet Momoko, a "Lolita" decked out to the nines in the finest (and frilliest) of Victorian haute couture. The only scion of a drunken interlude between a cowardly yakuza and an inebriated bar-hostess, Momoko's mom has since split the scene, and, after various ill-fated scams that involve imitation brand name merchandise, Momoko's dad relocates them to the boondocks of rural Ibaraki prefecture. To escape her humdrum existence, Momoko fanaticizes about French rococo, dreams of living in the palace of Versailles, and buys all her extremely lacy clothes from an expensive Tokyo boutique. Meet Ichiko, a tough-talking motorcycle grrrl (on a tricked-out moped) who leads a ladies-only biker gang known as the Ponytails. Together, this unlikeliest of duos strike out on a quest to find a legendary embroiderer, a journey on which they encounter conniving pachinko parlour managers, legendary street-punks, and anaemic costumers. Who knows, they might just make it big...if only Ichiko would stop head butting Momoko in the forehead.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 On Sun Swallowing ♡ Dakota Warren

Genres: Poetry, fiction, feminism

Synopsis: On Sun Swallowing is a sweet and bloody collection of poetry, dancing in the spaces between skinned knees and red wine, satin and switchblades, rosaries and Dionysian ecstasy. Her writings are haunted by the ghosts of girlhood, god/s, lovers and the landscape of childhood, but Warren is unflinching - she haunts her ghosts in return, with sharp lyricism and cutthroat vulnerability. On Sun Swallowing explores shadowy emotion, at times in a whisper, at times in a scream. Think: cheap cigarettes, even cheaper wine, and an oath to reach hell by midnight and be home in time for work in the morning.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk ♡ Legs McNeil & Gillian McCain

Genres: Music, nonfiction, history

Synopsis: Iggy Pop, Danny Fields, Dee Dee and Joey Ramone, Malcom McLaren, Jim Carroll, and scores of other famous and infamous punk figures lend their voices to this definitive account of that outrageous, explosive era. From its origins in the twilight years of Andy Warhol's New York reign to its last gasps as eighties corporate rock, the phenomenon known as punk is scrutinized, eulogized, and idealized by the people who were there and who made it happen.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

🎀 The Witching Hour ♡ Anne Rice

Genres: Horror, fantasy, fiction

Synopsis: On the veranda of a great New Orleans house, now faded, a mute and fragile woman sits rocking... and The Witching Hour begins. It begins in our time with a rescue at sea. Rowan Mayfair — aware that she has special powers but unaware that she comes from an ancient line of witches—finds the drowned body of a man off the coast of California and brings him to life. He is Michael Curry, who was born in New Orleans and orphaned in childhood by fire on Christmas Eve, who pulled himself up from poverty, and who now has acquired a sensory power that mystifies and frightens him. As these two, fiercely drawn to each other, fall in love and set out to solve the mystery of her past and his unwelcome gift, the novel moves backward and forward in time from today's New Orleans and San Francisco to long-ago Amsterdam and a château in the France of Louis XIV. An intricate tale of evil unfolds—an evil unleashed in seventeenth-century Scotland, where the first "witch," conjures up the spirit she names Lasher... a creation that spells her own destruction and torments each of her descendants in turn.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

If you've read any of these books, feel free to comment what you thought of them (without spoilers obviously lol). That's it, byeeeee!! ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♡

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

#girlblogging #bookblr #emo #scenemo #scene #kawaii #cutegore #cutecore #tbr #hell is a teenage girl #this is what makes us girls #girlhood #horror books

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