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stardustgates · 5 months

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Author’s Notes: Possibly OOC behaviour? I’ve done my best to stick by Canon as much as I can, but given I’m a newer player, I don’t know the relationship between Kafka and Silver Wolf or the characters individually as well I’d like to. Though I did do my best, please be aware that I may have taken some creative liberties in their characterisation and inner thoughts regarding each other. Also I am aware that this may just be 5.5k words of nonsensical BS but I haven’t written proper fanfiction in a hot minute so take it with a grain of salt. Not so much of a reader/canon thing and more like a reader AND canon thing currently. Perhaps that will change in future works, who’s to say? Oh yeah this is a SAGAU.

Warnings: Canonical In-game violence, references and descriptions of dissociation via player-induced body possession, references to drug use (one sentence), yandere tones if you squint really hard (shes a slowburner ya’ll), and a single swear word :3

Beyond the mind, within your body.

Description: Unaware that your presence has been made apparent to the eccentric duo during your first run through of Honkai Star Rail, you happily indulge yourself in the immersive (tutorial) world before your eyes. Kafka and Silver Wolf attempt to adjust to the feeling it brings, which leaves their minds constantly switching between distrust and euphoria, and all the things in between.

Word Count: 5.5k

Hoyoverse’s newest game hadn’t seemed much to your liking when you’d first heard the announcement. For one thing, you weren’t particularly pleased with the constant stream of ‘HONKAI STAR RAIL - PLAY NOW’ interrupting your YouTube doom-scrolling every other ad; Not to mention, you weren’t very keen on the gacha aspect.

Within your small circle of friends, you’d been known to cave easily when attractive anime characters were involved and you weren’t planning on another hyperfiction to solidify your position as the group’s resident simp. That being said, with such a title swaying above your head like a shiny silver dagger, you’d held a metaphorical death grip on your wallet, solemnly swearing that you’d keep your distance from the game for as long you were able.

Ultimately that so-called iron will of yours didn’t last so much as a year, as just seven months after its release a simple character trailer was enough to break your steadfast resilience. Well, it wasn’t ‘simple’, if you were being honest with yourself- It was a brilliantly unique masterpiece, tailored to the exact essence and spirit of his character. You were sure Argenti wouldn’t be released for a good while, so you decided to pick up the game and grind what you could before his arrival.

That was your plan at least. Your friend had warned you a few months prior (Though admittedly, you hadn’t been paying much attention at the time.) that the download and installation would take an exhaustingly long time. Well, it was better than Genshin Impact had been- but still, you were getting bored and subsequently decided to fetch yourself something to drink in the meantime.

With your back turned to the loading screen, you waltzed out of your bedroom with little care in the world- oblivious to the ominous glowing cracks slowly sprawling across the screen of your device.

As you returned a few moments later, you found that it had finally finished installing! You’d certainly waited long enough. Sure, it wasn’t as soul-sucking as Genshin had been but your patience wasn't that of a saint’s either. With a renewed sense of anticipation, you hit start and breezed through the usual terms and conditions without reading anything and let out a sigh at the beautiful change in scenery.

It perhaps wasn't the smartest idea to skip it completely- but you had spent so long waiting already that you weren’t going to bother wasting time reading a document filled with dolled-up words you could barely pronounce.

✄————————————————

Herta’s Space Station’s defences hadn't been particularly difficult to slip past surprisingly, though Kafka didn’t recall any mention of difficulty regarding entry in Elio’s script, so she supposed the lack of security wasn’t of any particular importance.

Despite the calm confidence that usually accompanied her on these little operations, Kafka couldn’t shake the strange feeling of being watched. It wasn’t the usual sort of lingering gaze or sharpened stare, but a vague pulsating heartbeat that faded in and out, as though blinking through blurry vision.

Needless to say, she kept her guard up. Playing none the wiser and bowing mid-air to the tempo of a rather graceful tune. She forced her shoulders to relax and gently swayed her body, controlling her every little move with practised ease- even as that strange pulsating presence slowly sped up and stroked the fires of an oncoming headache- as the elevator descended to the station’s ‘ground’ floor.

(You remained none the wiser to her sudden awareness, the rapidly changing scenes flashing past your eyes far too quickly to pick up on a single, brief second of stillness in her body.)

A sudden explosion reverberates across the station's cold, metallic body and brings Kafka’s impromptu air-violin session to a screeching halt. Simultaneously, that presence settles over her body like a thick blanket of fog. That ‘gaze’ she had felt becoming so vivid she could feel its weight pressing down on her tongue.

She has little time to process the feeling before the usual blueish glow of Silver Wolf’s communications screen flickers into existence before her very eyes.

“... Seems I came at a bad time.”

“No, No – I think you couldn’t’ve timed it better. Twenty-three-fourty-seven-fifteen system time. Very punctual, Kafka.” Silver Wolf almost sounds impressed, though Kafka suspects she’s only trying to butter her up so she’ll let the girl go off task again. Perhaps, under different circumstances, she would have been kind enough to allow it, but with the nature of their current mission and this inexplicable presence, Kafka doesn't find herself in a very generous mood.

Kafka merely hums in response and ignores the empty praise.

“Elio always tells the exact future. So What’s with the explosion just now? Was that part of his script?” Silver Wolf picks up on her cue to focus without any fuss.

“Twenty-three-four-four-fifty-nine system time: The pulses from the explosion cause a massive breakdown from the master control system.”

Pulses. Perhaps it’s linked to the feeling curling itself around her senses?

“You did that?” Kafka doubts that Silver Wolf would waste effort on something so minor.

“No, the antimatter legion did it. They completely invaded the space station two system hours ago.” She whistles in response and glances down the glass panelling to the approaching ground floor. A small group… annoying, but manageable.

“Alright, so do we need to fight the legion?”

“Dunno, Elio didn’t say anything about it, so it doesn’t matter.” Hmm. Silver Wolf made a good point.

“Got it. So from now on, I'll be in charge of this operation.” She feels that tingle of a smirk reach the corner of her mouth, and smiles a little wider in anticipation.

“Copy. Can you let me have some fun this time? Our last few operations turned out to be pretty dull.” Kafka lets out a playful hum as she ponders over her colleague’s request with faux consideration. She can practically hear Silver Wolf’s stifled groan in the second of silence that passes.

“...Sorry~ I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for you- our task this time is just to ‘place’ the target properly.”

Her choice of words is careful, though not enough to cause any alert in potential eavesdroppers. The feeling still hasn’t left.

“But if you wanna go look for some fun yourself, I won’t stop you.”

“I mean… after all…” she chuckles lightly as the blue hologram blips out of her vision, and reaches for the holsters tucked into her lower back. “After all…” Kafka readjusts her footing just in time to watch the elevator’s doors slide open, the sound of metal dragging against metal pinching at her ears.

“Elio didn’t put it in the script… Why would it matter?”

Just as the impact from her gunshots flitters across her skin, Kafka feels her mind being pulled back to the edge of her skull.

The group of voidrangers in front of her feel distant and smudged, the sockets of her eyes creating a blurred tunnel of vision that refuse adjust no matter how much she tries to blink it away. Their dark forms bleed into black speckles that crowd her already limited vision until she’s staring directly into the singed edges of the universe.

Kafka’s body… is no longer hers to command.

✄————————————————

She returns to her mind with startling swiftness. Her memories of the brief battle suddenly bubbling up as though pushing themselves through a thick soup of aether. She feels disconnected from the memory but can at least recall that she’d lost control of her body before blacking out.

She attempts to think back on that burnt, golden memory but is stopped by a sudden wave of nausea. She opts to set that aside for another time and refocus on the operation. Elio had not mentioned this happening anywhere in the script- so either this had no significance or…

Still, those Voidrangers hadn’t proved to be much trouble- in fact, they’d been less of an annoyance than she had prepared for. Either she’d been far more ruthless than intended or the antimatter legion had lost its touch.

“When did the anti-matter legion become so weak?” She asks out loud.

“I could only attract this much. Did you really want the entire legion to come here?” Silver Wolf speaks in feigned annoyance, her usual behaviour.

She hadn’t even realised. Kafka chooses not to mention anything for the moment, instead opting to subtly gauge the extent of control this presence… or rather... Entity, seems to have over her.

“This lot won’t be able to slow down the Astral Express crew.” Silver Wolf sighs in response on the other end of the device.

“Relax, a doomsday beast is also here.”

As she approaches one of the station’s automatic doors, Kafka feels it slip back into her body as if wearing her like a coat. Its influence feels… less heavy than it previously had been a few moments ago. At the very least she remains conscious this time; A strange lightness in her feet as she feels herself stealth towards a lone voidranger lounging about the area.

Her movements come to her now like instinct, striking down enemies with admittedly far more efficiency than she was naturally capable of. If it weren’t for her body being strung along like a puppet against her will, she’d almost be grateful for the power and resiliency it granted her.

Kafka has barely had her fill before a euphoric sense of power seems to swell up all at once; Killer instinct pumping through her veins like a well-oiled machine.

Ahh. Now this… this particular feeling wasn’t so bad.

Truthfully she’d liked to have toyed with this one a bit longer, but she knew all too well that it wouldn't manage to survive her next attack. She chatters to no one in particular, the ecstasy in her mind clouding whatever decorum she would have usually displayed.

“Good times never last… time to say bye.”

“Ah- She’s so cool…”

Kafka tenses up at the stranger’s voice, just as the swirling dark mass in front of her collapses into itself.

She sheathes her sword and adjusts her gloves, ignoring the voidranger approaching her from behind. Just before its darkened claws reach her, Silver Wolf’s ability activates no more than a hands-width from her shoulder blades.

“Cleaning up other people’s mess isn’t in my job description… y’know Kafka?” Silver Wolf huffs out, but her voice has no real bite in it. Was it her? She wasn’t usually one to doubt herself, but that fog of exhilaration certainly could have played with her mind.

“Yeah, yeah. Where did you send it Silver Wolf?”

Kafka turns in time to hear the gooey pop of the silver-haired girl’s bubblegum as she hops to her feet. She isn’t sure if it's Strawberry or Grape, but the artificial sweetness and scent of no-fruit-in-particular is so strong it actually grounds her mind for a moment.

She sighs for no real reason, but it brings her relief regardless.

Oh.

She hadn’t realised how bad her headache was.

“Some random Co-ordinates, not important.” She avoids Kafka’s gaze for a reason she couldn’t care to name before taking on an adorably defiant stance, her hands placed at her hips as though it would help her short stature in any way.

“You care about where that voidranger ended up?” She doesn’t. But she’d rather think about that than, well… She didn’t know what to call it at this point. But it was distracting and she needed to focus on literally anything else for the sake of what sanity she had left.

Though some could argue that she wasn’t sane at all- which was only half true because most people’s definition of sanity varied greatly from her own.

Oh, Silver Wolf was still blinking up at her expectantly.

“Of course not- I’m just amazed at this fancy technique of yours, as usual.” she smiles down at her colleague, who only rolls her eyes in response. To the girl’s credit, she’d been dealing with Kafka’s empty flattery for quite a long time.

“Just a little trick of tampering with the data of reality, I wouldn't call it fancy.” Kafka smiles a little wider, following behind as Silver Wolf strolls down the hallway. Her tells were always so obvious.

“What were you looking at just now? Let me see.” Silver Wolf huffs a bit as she settles herself onto a desk and faces her.

“Herta’s toys,” she begins in an almost mocking tone

“A catalogue featuring the space station’s collection of rare items.” Her fingers briefly tug on the white fluff of her jacket as she speaks “They’ve got quite a looot of interesting gadgets~”

Kafka’s previous interest (however feigned it may have been) dies down a little at the prospect of these ‘gadgets’ but nonetheless she indulges Silver Wolf’s unspoken desire to share what information she’d dug up.

“Like what?”

“There’s this gun, it can rate any creature within its crosshair as a score from 0 to 100.”

“... Doesn't sound very interesting.” Her brows pinch together and her mouth stretches into a thin line of clear disappointment. Not one to be disheartened so easily, Silver Wolf continues on

“Aren’t you curious how much you would score? I kinda wanna know mine.”

So this is what she’d been hinting at since earlier. Kafka crosses her arms and takes on the tone of an exasperated mother having finally given up after being nagged at for far, far longer than the reality of it.

“Fine. I guess we can swing by and play with it, if it’s not too far. What’s our destination?” She redirects Silver Wolf’s distractable attention onto their current objective with practised ease.

Hmm.

She feels a little cold for some reason… and those watchful eyes haven't left during the entirety of their conversation. Kafka’s guard raises a little further than before.

Her colleague’s eyes flit down to a small blue hologram, her fingers swiping past various screens until arriving at what Kafka could only presume was a list of directions given to her by Elio.

“Go down the corridor, behind the door… ooon the left. There’s a room where some kind of rare item is stored.”

Kafka feels the entity strongly now, she stares just beyond Silver Wolf’s shoulders where it feels most concentrated. The feeling she is met with is a dense smouldering hotness. It’s like melting iron dripping down her throat and burning it in the process. It feels almost itchy.

She redirects her gaze back to Silver Wolf far quicker than she’d intended to and resists the urge to scratch at her throat.

“So that’s where the Stellaron is?” Kafka is somewhat relieved when the feeling seems to simmer down. She once again debates speaking on the sensation during the slightest lull in their conversation but when Silverwolf turns her head back to face her, she finds the girl’s gaze to be much sharper than before.

“That's where we can find out where the Stellaron is.”

Kafka immediately knows that Silverwolf has finally caught on to this feeling and says nothing as she readies herself for the next half of their mission. Almost instantly, she feels the presence shift and roll over her shoulders, like a cat stretching out its limbs.

It's languid and smooth and she feels her tense- She had been tense this whole time?- muscles slowly relax until she finally feels that usual calm focus she’s so intimately familiar with. She hadn’t realised the extent of how cold she’d felt when it had stepped- strange, it feels like a person?- away.

Kafka decides that her feelings towards this... Being- She isn’t totally sure if it feels sapient, but it certainly has some form of will… That much she can tell- are mixed, to say the least. She wonders one more why Elio hadn’t mentioned anything about something so foreign and strange but sets the thought aside and refocuses on the task at hand.

She locks eyes with Silverwolf briefly, and just as she thought, Silverwolf is most definitely aware of it at this point.

“The central area of the space station is up ahead. There’ll be loads of Legion Void rangers there.” Silver Wolf hops to her feet and saunters toward the door’s control panel. A bit too casual to be natural, but it doesn't cause the feeling to stir, so she says nothing.

“Okay.” Kafka breathes out.

Then that feeling of puppeteering seems to stitch itself into her mind once more, albeit in a much more faded sense- it feels more like muscle memory than it does being pulled from her own body. She allows it to pull her along and lead her toward whatever it wants. As her fingers glide over the room’s control panels and her heels click against the cold steel of the station, she feels that fog of exhilaration settle over her again- that almost euphoric surge of strength from earlier suddenly vivid and fresh in her mind.

Silverwolf seems to feel the building strength in her own body too, as she quickens her pace when they turn the corner to find themselves at the back of a particularly strong-looking voidranger. She huffs out in bemusement and half-heartedly mutters out some encouragement to her colleague.

“May as well kill them all.”

Not needing much more encouragement than that, Silverwolf leaps forward with as much grace as her short form can allow her and drags her digitally enhanced blade across the muscles and sinew of its chest. She leaps back beside Kafka as it staggers on its feet and tries to regain its footing. Kafka’s arm pulls itself up, gun in hand, and fires out a cascade of bullets that each burrow and pierce into its flesh.

“This… seems a lot easier than it should be.” Silverwolf comments under her breath quietly.

“Well, let’s count our blessings–” Kafka is cut off as her arm is singed by the blast of the voidranger’s fire canon.

“Tch. Didn’t hurt.”

Silverwolf pulls out her holographic system at such speed that Kafka feels the static waft across her skin.

“Hmph, still. This combat needs optimising.” Just as the creature aims its weapon once more, it’s hit with a blast pulled from the loosened strands of reality itself.

“At that speed? Too slow!”

Kafka almost feels sorry for it, as she watches its body disintegrate while collapsing into itself.

Unfortunately, the girls are not left with time to bask in their victory- Silver Wolf lets out a small yelp- the entity has left its place on Kafka’s shoulders and draped itself over her companion it would seem. Her short colleague adjusts to the sensation of its guiding hand far better than she had, if her losing conscious was anything to go by.

Kafka follows behind silently, eyes trained intently on the girl in front of her for any indication of danger.

“Hold it. Someone.. Or something is up ahead.” she warns quietly, arm extended out to her side like a makeshift barrier. They both come to a sudden halt as the entity violently rips itself from their bodies and settles just beyond their skin.

Goosebumps this time.

The cold seems to get worse and worse each time it separates from them… well, her. Silver Wolf grits her teeth. Kafka notes the tiny pearl of sweat rolling down the side of her face. Still a shock to the system then.

“Looks like we’re the ones getting ambushed.”

“...But they’re the ones getting besieged.”

✄————————————————

The game has felt pretty cool so far, and you quite like this Kafka woman. You don’t recall her being part of the main cast your friend had rambled about however many months ago it was, but you hoped you’d get to see a lot more of her.

Her design was really nice- though strangely familiar?- and her voice was pretty too! Silver Wolf was alright, but she hadn’t really caught your interest so far, so you werent sure what to make of her yet.

They did seem to be close though, but less like friends and more like tired workmates who’d been stuck in the same dead end job for a decade- that is to say, it definitely felt like they were used to dealing with each other’s nonsense.

Were they a ship? You could see it. Ah, another battle, sweet!

The combat system Star Rail used wasnt particularly innovative or anything, but it’s playstyle was strangely addictive- especially the Ult animations! Kafka’s especially had you nearly squealing with how badass it was. Did the MC have a cool one too? You could hardly wait to see.

✄————————————————

The mood is light despite the circumstances, they both feel a sense of safety and confidence while the presence pulls them along, as though leading them in a dance. The Voidranger’s movements stand out like a pindrop in an empty room. Predictable, and delectably so.

Silver Wolf barks out a short, quick laugh- a taunting thing that aggravates the musclehead stomping around in front of her- before decapitating the creature in a single, swift move.

“You took the bait, just like that?” Her jubilance is cut short by an attack from her blindspot, it isnt fatal- hell it barely counts as a battle wound- but its enough to flip her mood in the opposite direction. “Tch.”

Kafka laughs lightly at her, amused with her momentary lapse in spacial awareness. Silver Wolf scoffs and scowls lightly at her. Really, like she hadn’t gotten hit before?

Just as she opens her mouth to hurl a barely-an-insult-but-im-still-annoyed-with-you comment towards the magenta haired woman next to her, Kafka’s aura shifts somewhat. Time seems to slow down for a second as Silver Wolf watches the woman’s pupils dilate in slow motion.

Had she appeared like this? When that wave of energy had swelled within her?

She receives no answer to her unvoiced question, and instead hears Kafka’s voice ring through out her ears.

“That breathing sensation. Remember it.” Silver Wolf gulps in a breath of blood-scented air and breathes out a sickly, golden-sweet taste. As Kafka’s bullets rain down upon the bodies of their would-be-ambushers she can't help but feel pure ecstasy in the moment. Truly…if this was a drug she’d be hooked like a fish to water.

Even just being near it is enough to cloud her mind.

“Alright, now that that’s over with…” Silver Wolf’s body relaxes significantly as Kafka speaks, the strength of whatever had possessed them slowing dripping out from their bodies like tree sap. She feels like she just got a massage.

“I could get used to that.” She isn’t sure who she’s talking to, but it feels appropriate to voice. Kafka ignores her and spins her around to face the door, and Silver Wolf seems to go into auto pilot as she unlocks the control panel blocking their path, stepping lightly as her taller colleague gently pushes her forward without a word.

The monitoring room is completley empty. Nothing but the quiet beeping of a few monitors and the rustling of swaying leaves, courtesy of the air conditioning unit humming softly above them.

“Huh. not a single soul here. Impressive evacuation work. Did herta organise it herself?” Kafka seems mildly impressed- and entirely unaffected by the sensation Silver Wolf is still trying to shake from her skin.

“According to the access history, she hasnt logged in her for over six months. The evacuation was directed by the acting lead researcher - a girl named Asta.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Oh, right. Elio said we wouldn’t run into herta. It seems she really isnt here.” Though something else definitely was, but Silver Wolf supposed they weren’t going to be making any conversation on that topic.

She sighs, and scrolls through her holograms nonchalantly.

“Elio’s Script doesnt include any info about the location of the stellaron. Which means in the future he foresees…”

“... we would find the stellaron in a non-physical way?” Kafka crosses her arms, easily having picked up on her train of thought and already dipping her metaphorical toes into several different plans of action. She was always efficient like that. Silver Wolf strolls over to the water cooler and pours herself a cold cup. She gestures to Kafka who only shakes her head in response.

“This space station is packed with extraordinary objects, I wouldnt be surprised if theres one that can make it happen.” She takes a long sip, the cooling sensation bringing relief to her sweltering body. The combat efficiency was nice, but she was left feeling like an overheating graphics disk everytime it took control of her. She idles on a page in her hologram briefly before continuing on her scroll-fest.

“Hiding something extraordinary with something extraordinary… this is pretty Herta. I assume you know what to do? I mean, You’ve been reading that cataogue for a while?” Ah. Perseptive as ever, Kafka never changes. She ignores the heat building in her ears at the prospect of being caught slacking-off, and bins the styrofoam cup as she turns to the older woman.

“Hmph. I’ve got all the clues we need. The only piece missing is a simple trick- maybe this entity thats been stringing us along could lend a hand? After all, it doesnt have a physical form.”

(You didn’t expect them to involve the player like this! What an awesome storytelling device, and it would hopefully grant a lot more player agency too! Hoyoverse had truly out done themselves this time. Feeling a surge of excitement at being learning you’ll be able to lend a helping hand ‘directly’, you decide that Silver Wolf is also really cool.)

Kafka says nothing in response, only staring down at Silver Wolf in consideration.

“Why dont we have it help us investigate the terminals around here, that item we’re looking for may be inside.” The magenta haired woman only sighs, internally cursing the girl’s lack of caution. Though… she couldnt deny that it had only been helping them so far.

“Alright, lets give it the spotlight.”

“Oh god, I hope I don’t fuck this up…” Kafka stills. The same voice from before. So it can speak? She tucks the information away in her mind for later.

She watches it guide her along the messily arranged desks and flickering monitors. Stopping at a memory storage cart- which is, of course, missing its memory. Not useful for her current objective, but it at least told her that whatever it was could see the same things she could.

“...I cant see the memory storage for this terminal.” Her body shifts slightly.

“This is the monitoring room, the must have deleted the records and made a run for it. Classic.” Silver Wolf is still scrolling through the holographic catalogue, idling against a desk in the middle of the room. She doesn’t look up, even as Kafka is strung along past her towards a monitor on the other side of the room.

“You don’t seem to be very affected by it? Its control over you, I mean.”

“And you? You seemed a little weary earlier.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s just new, thats all.”

Kafka’s hand reaches out to flick through various active surveillance cameras, interesting but ultimately fruitless.

“Hmmm… I can see the whole space station on the surveillance screen. But not the Stellaron.” Silver Wolf scoffs indignantly behind her, she almost sounds offended.

“Even if you could it’d be a trap. Herta doesn’t display her collections.” She turns to her hologram once more.

“This thing isnt very good with investigating, is it?”

Kafka expects some form of insulted rage to squeak in her mind’s ear, but she hears nothing. Though faintly she imagines a rather adorable ‘Hey! I’m trying my best!’ echoing in her skull.

Kafka staves off the sudden urge to get defensive in response and clamps her mouth shut.

Silver Wolf sighs at her lack of response and shifts onto her feet.

“Make your way over here then. There’s no point in trying to search like this.”

“So? Got a master plan? I’m all ears.”

Kafka’s tone takes on a slightly irritated edge, for a reason she herself doesn’t quite understand. If Silver Wolf picked up on it, she chooses not to say anything and instead gestures to the warping static of the holographic screens lining the walls of the office.

“Its a matter of hacking the surveillance system directly.” She says matter-of-factly, smirking playfully as her iconic vandalism plasters itself onto every screen in sight.

“Aha, I see. Herta’s collections aren’t in the system so anything unaffected should be our target.”

Their heads are guided to turn and face the back of a lone monitor by the main desk. Ah. that one then. As they both stroll over to investigate, Kafka feels a strange sense of pride bubble in the back of her mind. Not for Silver Wolf’s accomplishment- that much would be expected from the shorter girl- but for the entity curling along the edge of her mind. What exactly she was supposed to be proud of she couldnt tell, but the feeling was pleasant regardless.

Silver Wolf slips into a chair and slides forward to the desk, cracking her knuckles and wiggling her fingers as she readies herself for some data mining.

“Crude, simple, but effective. Look, found it.” The computer’s cursor circles a line of code tauntingly. Kafka doesn’t understand what any of the values mean.

“Item number two-eleven, ‘Blind Spot’ : a simple light-deflecting field. It allows an object in its field to pass unnoticed, but if a different item ceases to be obvious, the object gets revealed.”

She isn’t sure which set of numbers.. Or letters? That item is supposed be, but it does seem like a very… uncomplicated form of security for someone like Herta.

“So, Herta the genius… hides her collection with something as simple as this?”

“the simplest method is the hardest to spot, isnt that our motto?”

“Huh? How is that simple?” Kafka nearly chokes on her saliva while trying to hold back a bark of laughter and wonders why she’d kept her guard up for this thing. She follows Silver Wolf towards the glitching hole in the wall and sighs bemusedly.

“The data suggests its just an ordinary hologram. But it has an added layer… “ Silver Wolf eyes the frayed edges of the hologram cautiously, despite the confidence in her voice.

“Lets take a look. Dont worry, this place wont be our grave.” The girl only puffs her cheeks and steps forward, ignoring Kafka’s words of comfort completely. Well, she’d expected that much at least.

As she follows behind, her vision melts into a stark change of scenery.

The bright, ethereal glow of the Stellaron coating the walls of the closed off room in a golden-blue light. A strange combination, but one that was all too familiar; the everchanging strands of reality warping and stretching around itself, as the Stellaron sat patiently- sealed away- in the center of the room. Such an otherworldly treasure was exactly what all Stellaron hunters across the universe strove for. Though admittedly it was a mere front for their true purpose, a fact that Kafka was intimately aware of.

Their true goal would see this stellaron- sealed away, courtesy of Herta- to another use. Once said seal was removed by Silver Wolf, all Kafka would need to do was take hold of it and place it inside that vessel.

It had been laying in wait for this exact occasion…Kafka smiles fondly at the memory of it. Silver Wolf makes a small noise of surprise, catching her attention. She steps over towards the girl and the control panel, asking a question without speaking.

“It has its own security system… I guess even for herta, a Stellaron is no ordinary rarity.” Silver Wolf sounds genuinely surprised at this fact, though Kafka feels this was a rather likely outcome.

“Can you get it?”

“Of course, even the genius Herta cant compete with me when it comes to hacking.”

“Good. Then I’ll also count on you for the preparation of the receptacle.” Not to mention, she was quite sure this being wouldn’t be able to provide much help if Silver Wolf couldn’t figure it out herself. Speak of the devil, she feels the entity waft away like smoke in the wind and settle in the air around them as she lifts the Stellaron from its prison. She turns to her Silver haired companion and unspoken words flicker between their eyes.

This is Kafka’s decision.

Or perhaps it isn’t, she corrects herself over the distant sound of Silver Wolf’s voice.

When it enters her body, it no longer feels like being puppeteered or controlled.

She recalls that first feeling of possession, and the bleeding darkness making way for glowing golden edges of a burnt milky way. Her mind is dipped like an apple into the thick syruppy taste of synethesia. The amber eyes of the vessel- piercing into her soul and leaving her tongue sizzling in an almost addictive sort of pain- briefly flash open before collapsing to the floor in Kafka’s arms.

The Stellaron has found its place. And something else entirely has made its home there too.

(What an amazing tutorial and intro! You get the feeling you’ll be playing this game for a very long while!)

#not super happy with how this turned out honestly but I can’t be bothered looking at it anymore #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #(sort of?)#hsr kafka #kafka x reader #silver wolf x reader #hsr silver wolf #kafka honkai star rail #silver wolf honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #yandere hsr #my writing

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inkskinned · 2 years

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but you couldn't, like, see a gay person kissing.

it was alright that i had been catcalled at 12 years old. it was alright that i had been followed and groped at 15. it was okay men were leery and treacherous. it was okay when a man asked me my age and when i said 18, he said, that age is my favorite.

don't you like feeling sexy? i love action movies, but i often have an internal tally of how often a camera will begin at someone's hips and travel to her face only as if by accident. weirdly, you can't show too-much asscrack in the same movie, even if it was the style in the nineties. sort of only apply a tasteful sprinkling of asscrack.

i am wearing a body type that is very easily sexualized. it's a compliment, you'll miss it. it is not his fault, i am told - and then usually with this assurance, someone will compare me to an object. i am, by the way, not using "i become an object" metaphorically. well, you wouldn't wear a precious watch in a dangerous city - i am the watch, in this situation. can you blame a thief for taking a jewel if it was just left out in the open? i think my personhood is the jewel, but sometimes also it is pain. a dog sees a steak. i like this one because it does refer to men as dogs, even if it does literally compare me to a piece of meat (which is, you know, somehow worse than being a dog. at least call me a bitch, babe).

it's inappropriate to show two men kissing, but it's totally normal to hear that "best" age for childbirth is 15. (it's not, by the way. try 20's & 30's. do your fucking reading). and on tv - let's cut from a murder mystery where a woman is shown brutally bloodied, carved into pieces (only pg-13) into a tampon commercial where she runs around, happy and fluttering, refusing to use the word period, white pants abounding. periods: gross, icky. violence, though, is just a gendered currency.

so it's like - you say "can we please treat women like they're people and stop cutting their heads off in advertisements" and then it's like. no actually we needed that woman's bellybutton to sell drain fluid don't like it don't look. and you say "can you please not make every latin person a drug dealer holy shit" and they're like. unfortunately if we don't make the latin person a drug dealer we literally will go rabid. and you say "okay can we at least agree you super don't need to use racist epithets why is this even a conversation we're still having" and they're like. actually my child is a make-a-wish kid and his only wish was that i get to use words that make your skin crawl and if you don't let me use the words it's because you love cancer don't you.

so it's kind of a lost cause. because when something is complicated even a little bit, you find yourself trying to explain that the solution isn't make women cover up, it's that the idea "sexualization of nonconsenting parties is wrong" can also hold hands with the idea "not every expression of fondness is sexual in nature, nor is nonhegemonic sexual expression somehow more inflammatory or inappropriate than its counterpart"- and both of those ideas can also hold hands with "the male gaze is rarely censored despite the massive amounts of societal harm it imposes." but like, that's a big thought. let's just slap "pg-13" on the movie because they actually use the word lesbian. and let's cross our fingers and hope no kid figures out they're lgbt+ before college - otherwise they have access to literally no resources, since even google will censor the results in case they're pornographic. now, if you wanted to know how to hide a body...

when i was a kid i used to keep my eyes on my toes while walking past bra stores, feeling uncomfortable. it was gross to look at ladies, i knew that much. the way the women were posed was... not for me. not even for the people shopping. it was weird. i don't think anyone actually there-for-the-product was like yeah this is inspiring.

and i remember in high school my friends and i were still talking about how uncomfortable we felt in victoria's secret, shuffling our way out into the new england chill. little yellow leaves around our feet. a guy held the door open for us. a few seconds later, he jogged up after us. we were so startled we turned to look. "sorry," he said. "i just wanted to ask how old you all are." we were young then, so we lied and told him we were older. we'd talk about this later - we all thought maybe one of us had dropped our wallet or something. he smiled dolefully. "i just wanted to say you all are fucking beautiful. you have amazing tits on you."

sometimes i wonder. what if one fraction of the effort they put into making sure no gay thing ever occurs onscreen just went into controlling and educating their own fucking population. now wouldn't that be something.

#this is all over the place #im still recovering from nona #this doesn't make sense #i think what im saying is #fuck censorship #friendly reminder the hays code was LITERALLY created to appease nazis :)

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

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Ooooh bestie, just had a great idea! Okay so idk what timeline this would be but reader is friends with Elena et al. and they need something from Klaus but nobody knows where he is. They convince reader to ask him for help but she's like 'yeah right, he's gonna just ignore me'

But then he actually shows up and she's shocked but pleased. And if you could include the dialogue "you came?" "you called" that would just be the cherry on top 🍒❤️

(Obv. no pressure but I know you're looking for requests atm)

I GOTCHU!

He said he was loyal but this is not what I thought he meant.

I was so set on the fact that I wasn't anything special to him, that when the rest of the group requested that I reach out to Klaus, I expected him to run the other way and not care about what my 'group of misfits' got ourselves into again. He's been helpful for us in the past, sure, he's shown us that he's not completely an enemy but he isn't exactly a person that we all trust.

"I knew it." Elena chuckles, patting my back as Klaus trots towards us, leaves crunching with every step he takes. A bashful smile slides across his lips as Elena shoves me towards him, a snort leaving Damon at the physical and metaphorical shove towards Klaus.

I look up at him through my lashes, nervously biting at the inside of my cheek as he gives me playful shrug, almost asking me 'well?'.

"You came?" I breathe, not expecting him to actually show up when I need him but his brows furrow, offended at my question.

"You called. Of course I came." I can hear the snickers from behind me, my eyes turning to slits as I send them a glare over my shoulder, urging them to leave us alone. They move slowly but they eventually leave us be, my body vibrating as he takes a step towards me, his hands reaching out to rest on my upper arms. "You look beautiful." He whispers, reaching up to drug his knuckles over my jaw.

"Thank you." I whisper, brain blanking for a moment as he smiles, eyes flickering back and forth between mine as the forest moves around us. He looks happier since the last time I saw him, jaw unclenched, hair tousled, bright eyes; Elena would call that the 'Y/n effect' but I just like to call it good nights sleep and some peace in the supernatural world.

"I'm afraid I know you better than you think. I know that you didn't call me just to ogle me so," a bashful laugh escapes me as I take a tentative step away from him, putting some distance between us so I can take a breath, "why don't you tell me what's troubling you and I'll handle it." A relieved grin spreads across my face at the realization that he's here now, that I don't need to worry anymore. Reaching out, I take his hand in mine before tugging him in the direction of the car.

"Oh, I'm sure you will."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht @savageneversaw

#klaus #klaus x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #vampire diaries #vampire diaries fic #the originals #the originals fic

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that-bitch-kat3 · 18 days

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kats initial ttpd thoughts

fortnight:

stand out lines: i took the miracle move on drug, the effects were temporary

i like this one. i don’t think it’s my favorite (or i hope it won’t be) but i think the production does do it for me. i was honestly hoping that “i love you it’s ruining my life” would have been in a… better (?) song. this will undoubtedly grow on me but not a great start.

ttpd:

standout lyric: “i’ve seen this episode and still loved the show”

okay “who uses typewriters anyways” is objectively a really funny line. “i’ve seen this episode and still loved the show” im screaming crying and throwing up how dare you put that lyric in a song i have to listen to.

on a different note who tf are dylan thomas and patti smith? am i meant to know these people?

oh my god. the way charlie puth is about to have his career explode. this poor man. i hope he was warned.

CYCLONE!! CONEY ISLAND!!!

oh i like this bridge. also lucy as in lucy dacus?

i’m trying not to be a hater but taylor “now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon” couldn’t have come up with a more poetic way to say you put my ring on the finger where people put wedding rings? fr? is this about marty healy? i hope to god it’s not.

mbobhft:

stand out lyrics: “once i fix me he’s gonna miss me” and “there was forever in the heat of my touch, he say forever so he smashed it up”

i was ready to not like this one but im kinda into it. the line “i’ll tell you that he runs because he loves me” is… not something i am ready to unpack. this is a really good song and i will probs have it on repeat for a while but i stg if i don’t hear a song about joe soon im gonna be pissed

down bad:

standout lyric: jury’s still out

this song was not written by a 33 year old. jesus christ. taylor please. STAND UP. THIS IS BAD FOR THE BRAND!! however as a 19 year old: real af.

you loved his indecent exposures? interesting.

this is once again giving situationship. which is insane because JOE WAS HERE FOR 6 YEARS?!? WE DONT GET TO HEAR ABOUT THAT?!? i mean like she is entitled to her privacy but never in my life did i want to hear this much about marty healy

so long london:

stand out lyric: “i didn’t opt in to be your odd man out. i founded the club she’s heard great things about” “you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days”

not the production i was expecting from a track 5 but ill keep and open mind.

fairy lights mentioned!! ttpd bingo moment

i like this bridge tbh. it kinda fucks. “you swore that you loved me but where were the clues” taylor wtf?

two graves one gun?!? oh wow! very melodramatic and i love it

this song is good. very sad so great job! killed it! i’m not crying yet tho

but daddy i love him:

stand out lyrics: Growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all

HEYY RELIGOUS TRAUMA VIBES?!? FUCK YEAH!! FINALLY SOME GOOD RELATEBLE CONTENT!!

this is so champagne problems vibes

“im having his baby! no im not but you should see your face” BAHHAHA taylor wtf

i was hoping for more religious trauma energy than what i got. i had high hopes with that first verse

OMG WHAT?!? MAAM?!? “ID RATHER BURN MY WHOLE LIFE DOWN THAN LISTEN TO ONE MORE SECOND OF ALL THIS BITCHIN AND MOANIN” GIRLY YOUR “BABY” IS ANTISEMEIC?

okay this song is now just funny to me. deeply i would’ve kept this one in the vault but it’ll grow on me

fresh out the slammer:

stand out lyric: n/a

we are starting with the lowest of standards for the record. i do not have a good vibe from this song

its fine. liek it’s not revolutionary to me. like its okay but… why does this beat change like that and did the long prison metaphor help? i think not.

however yeah bring up that he didn’t propose again. love that for you

florida!!!

stand out lyric: well me and my ghost we had a hell of a time

!! what!! “they said i was a cheat so i guess i must be” ARENT YOU THE ONE WHO WRITE IVY AND HIGH INFEDELITY?!? WHAT?!? i am giggling so hard. taylor what are you saying?!?

this song reminded how much i love florence! i mean that woman can really sing

nbnc reference! that was not on my bingo card!

texas mentioned!! slay!!

i love this song. like i fr really like this one. the drums are a bit much but i love how their voices work together! delicious

guilty as sin?

standout lyric: “there no such thing as bad thoughts. only your actions talk” “i keep recalling things we never did”

i like how this one sounds

this song is really good! and bestie i get it! yikes!

this song is really for the girlies who make up fake scenarios to hurt their own feelings and i feel seen

false god references(?)

well terrible job everyone that was a bit too relatable! thanks! i’m going to throw up! or scream! or cry!

who’s afraid of little old me?

standout lyric: “you don’t get to tell me about sad” “is it a wonder i broke let’s hear one more joke” “you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me”

yay!! she’s doing witchcraft again!! thank god!! levitate queen!!

you should be afraid of little old me was not what i was expecting from this song! but i like it! also i am enjoying this production

“so tell me everything isnt about me but what if it is?” HAHAHH TAYLOR WHAT IS THIS?!?

no taylro they say that you’ll sue them they prublish public information about your plane! so close tho!

jokes aside i like this! this one’s gonna be in my tops i think! it reminds me of tlgad which is one love

i can fix him (no really i can)

standout lyric: “he had a halo of the highest grade, he just hasn’t met me yet”

texas mentioned again!! a win is a win

another song about matty healy?!? must we?!? are we sure? this is proof that any relationship pain is overshadowed by a 3 month situationship

loml: “better safe than starry eyed”

mmm im liking this one!

damn marriage is brought up a lot in the album for someone who wrote lavendar haze

i like that there is the love of my life to loss of my life switch! i was worried she abrievated that for no reason

still alive, killing time at the cemetery is a great line!!

!!! oh!! i wish i could unrecall how we almost had it all! i didn’t think i would like that lyric!! i in fact do.

icdiwabh:

standout lyric: “babe you gotta fake it till you make it and you did”

THIS SONG IS SO GOOD!! OH SHIT

okay now this is my shit. i like how she’s taking about her success and shit

i cry a lot but i am so productive it’s an art is so real

“try and come for my job” yikes.

the smallest man who every lived

standout lyric: “i would’ve died for your sins but i died inside”

this one isn’t doing it for me so far. i’m sure it’ll grow on me but idk it’s not killing it for me.

DID SHE JUST CALL HIS DICK SMALL?!? HELLO?!? good lord i hope that’s what that meant

“you kicked out the stage lights but your still preforming?!?” GOOD LORD TAYLOR! it’s so jover

The alchemy:

standout lyric: “he jokes that it’s heroin but this time with an E”

i had to listen to this song twice cause i could just not lay attention

AYO ITS TRAVIS!! god the next album is gonna have so many football metaphors that i will not understand

this is really cute! i’m on team trayvis

clara bow:

standout lyric: promise to be dazzling

cool! now i’m sad!

as a girl who tries to be something exciting but feels like she never gets there this is very yikes! greta job gang

DID SHE JUST SAY HER OWN NAME?!? SHE NEVER DONE THAT

OH MY GOD

YOUVE GOT EDGE SHE NEVER DID

WHAT

the black dog:

standout lyric:

i am scared!

oh shit! who cheated on taylor?!?

oh wait. maybe that’s not true

i love old habits die screaming! tahts a funky line. i know we already had it but im a fan

!! hoax reference!!

!!daylight reference!!

oh joe. that poor man. they’re gonna kill him.

this is putting a sad spin on some of my fav songs so that’s cool

imgonnagetyouback:

standout lyric: “pick your poison babe, i’m poison either way”

did we need to do this in one word

OH MY GOD

SHE MAKING THE SAME THING AS GET HIM BACK BY OLIVIA RODRGIO

now i personally would’ve rewritten this one or picked a different song but this is a choice

this is a worse versions of get him back! imo

eras fading to gray is a crazy line!

the albatross:

standout lyric: “the devil you know now looks more like and angel”

this is kinda giving cowboy like me vibes but with more unnecessary vocal effects but that does in fact mean that i like it

peace reference?!

idk im into this one i think

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus:

standout lyric: all of them <3

my god this is a long title

oh my god. did she just out joe alywn? what? that can’t be what just happened

“you needed me but you needed drugs more” IM THROWING UP HOW DARE YOU

nobody touch me

“if you want to break my cold cold heart, just say i loved you. the way that you were” okay so now i am crying! hey! tahts cool! in other news put me on watch

this is one of my tops

you can tell cause i’m depressed now

maroon reference!!

okay so i will never recover congrats everyone!

how did it end?

standout lyric: “we learned the right steps to different dances”

i feel invasive listening to this. i didn’t want to hear about matty anymore but this is a lot.

this song is good but sweet lord. this is really sad. which i should’ve guessed but this is not what i was expecting

“D-Y-I-N-G” that was not how i thought that line was gonna end

so high school:

standout lyric: idk man they’re all cute

is this another one about travis?!? yay!!

awww she want to marry him! that’s so exciting!! and also maybe kill him but we do what we can

this is really cute

i’m glad she got this back! cause this is giving very fearless vibes which is perfect! i love that! i love that she’s having the sweet love again! and i’m so glad im not listening about matty! cause that man if the gift that won’t stop giving. no matter what i do. he just won’t.

i hate it here:

standout lyric: “No mid-sized city hopes and small-town fears” “when they found a better planet only the gentle survive”

second time bringing up being a precocious child! not something i thought we would get twice!

this song feels like it’s right off folklore

GIRL WHAT!?! “I'd say the 1830s but without all the racists and getting married off for the highest bid” this is why no one wanted to play with you as a little kid

oh yikes now i’m relating

“i get lost on purpose. this place made me feel worthless” crying in the club once again

she really had to fight not to call him a finance bro

thank you aimee

stand out lyric: “Everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman but she used to say she wished that you were dead”

go to jail just for the capitalization

i feel like im missing something

is amiee real? is she a metaphor? is it someone from the rep era? i’m lost

if this is 15 year old beef that is amazing.

“there wouldn’t be this if there hadn’t been you” oh lol that’s so funny.

thank god taylor changed the name! cause otherwise they would kill her!

“and one day your kid comes home singing a song that only us two is gonna know so about you” oh that’s so good. you see i like taylor better when she’s being petty over decade old shit. it makes her more relatable

i look in peoples windows

stand out lyric: “i’m afflicted by the not knowing” “im addicted to the if only”

i love this.

is this the new shortest song in her discography? it’s gotta be. it’s like 2 minutes long

anyways. relatable. killin it

the prophecy:

stand out lyric: “Don't want money just someone who wants my company”

finally a song i can relate to! you know cause im psychic?

“I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope a greater woman wouldn't beg” yikes

oh no. i’m gonna cry. you see now im reminded of why i feel like im never enough. so cool 🤙

witchcraft again!! yay!!

what is gray-ge? gray/beige? was that already a word?

cassandra:

standout lyric: “what does kill you makes you aware. what happens if it becomes who you are”

bffr taylor does not patch cracks in her house

sorry i know tahts a metaphor, allow me to start by being less of a hater

oh i love a call back to the 2016 era. yikes

“BLOODS THICK BUT NOTHING LIKE A PAYROLL” HOLY FUCK WHAT?!?

“when its burn the bitch they’re shrieking, when the truth comes out they’re quiet” lol relatable

peter:

standout lyric: “we both did the best we could do underneath the name moon in different galaxies”

who is peter? very excting!

oh it’s peter pan! that’s cute!

is this about joe? i’m confused? i have no idea who this is about

i liek the piano! i like this more stripped back version

great bridge!

“cause love's never lost when perspective is earned” HEY BRO WHAT

the bolter: “she was leaving it felt like breathing”

standout lyric:

omg hey she wrote a song about me! jk it just started idk what this is

oh no

i cant do this right now

okay so no comment but yeah very relatable! cool! (except i’m not really a bolter now that i think about it. i just think i am. i’m actually not a quitter. im a stick with it person even when maybe i should bolt.)

robin:

stand out lyric: “you have no room in your head for regrets”

i like these a lot better than the first part of this album. i actually can’t tell if it’s a double release or not but i just like these more emotional songs more.

is she singing to her child self?!? is that what happening?!?

crying again.

the manuscript:

stand out lyric: looking backward might be the only way to move forward

my god this is a lot of songs! not complaining but i’m tired

okay i like the piano

“He said that if the sex was half as good as the conversation was soon they’d be pushing strollers” FUCKING HELLo?!? well now i’m in pain slay

this was not what i was expecting at all but let it be known i am crying and im not okay

this song really fucked me up guys

#this is really long #i’m warning you before you open it #honestly idk if you should read this #i’ll make content about it when i wake up #taylor swift #ts ttpd #the tortured poets department #ttpd #ttpd reactions #taylor swift ttpd #ttpd era #kat talks

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 1 year

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ALGOL - Divine Femininity and the Power of Creation

Algol sits at the 26 degrees in taurus.

Algol is known as the "demon star" and is connected to the head of medusa but she is so much more than a castrophic star that brings hell to the planet.

'Algol' is a star of the most divine feminine energy on the entire sphere. It rejoices in the cosmic universe and creates from its darkness. Like the womb in the belly of women, we create from here and eventually we birth it into our reality.

What makes Algol a star of divine feminine energy?

She is connected to the Mother. Serpent/Dragon energy. Creatrix and is connected to art and beauty.

Most who fear this star never travel deep into the unknown, however this star teaches you is that the unknown is like getting to the garden of eden and finding the apple that gives you life.

Fixed Star Algol is a major point in the sky, its 'demon' traits are chaotic/yin energy and nothing to be afraid of. When Mother (Earth) is tired of our shit what is she going to do? bring chaos. which is what this star represents in a number of ways.

This chaos can come through art because it is very yin, and the language that it speaks is far bigger than what the 'name' of this star.

ALGOL - AL-KU-HOL - SPIRITS

I noticed with this fixed star that drugs, wine and alcohol play a big part here. im speaking of people who have this placement strongly. Any planet. Not just your big three.

This fix star is heavily connected the spiritual realm and the psychical realm gets a taste of this vibrant energy each time the sun passes through here.

The energy/frequency I would like to dip into with this star is Adam/Eve Tree of Knowledge/Life Serpent/Transformation Phoenix/Dragon Medusa and Lilith energy here. Yeah that was a lot. bare with me.

You travel through depths to get to where you are with this star conjunct your sun, moon, rising and venus. Lilith energy literally rises within you. It connects you the the tree of knowledge. In the Bible these are all metaphors, so metaphorically speaking, you carry the knowledge in the womb and are a creator who connects to the source of the universe. All that you are is mother in the flesh, but more in the mind and spirit. You are bound to go through the waters of the serpents and transform with each valley that you cross.

You are not scared to go deep into your shadow, in fact when you get use to it you may succumb to it more. THIS is where your power comes from. Your fears are transmuted into POWER. Your pain turns into POWER. You are what? POWER. And you are a walking force who connects to the energy of the Mother!

You are deeply connected to the roots of this soil and also cosmic and can see into the ethereal realms. You know the underworld because you been there, you know the higher realms because you've traveled there, and you come back to us in this earthly realm and show it to us be it expression, art, soul, style, music, dance, emotions etc. your rage is your truth and you can wear it as you like.

all your powerful emotions can be used in the form of creating something new. it is castrophic but also beautiful. your energy is feared by many but we see how powerful your aura is.

If you have this fix star connected to your sun, moon or rising. You are literally that energy walking among us everyday. every. damn. day.

now I WILL say this with fix stars is that you can tap into them at any time, Algol seems to show up and come through you at the right time if you have this placement. You tend to have an aura that scares people but are fascinated with you at the same time. Who is like this... Lilith :)

The energy is very dark. do not take this as bad or evil because it is not. Dark energy is also yin, yin is feminine. They go hand in hand.

I want to touch on Medusa but I will save it for another time. What I can say is (or may I will argue that) Medusa is another form of Lilith. She was casted aside and was lied on because her power was too much for some, so she became a 'monster' who could turn you into stone.

This is how people with this fix star walk among us. Your energy is that powerful, that mesmerizing you literally have people at their knees im not playing.

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low-budget-korra · 10 days

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Comments on Love Lies Bleeding

-Katy O'Brian smile is the sweetest thing ever, and her 80's hair (or wig, Idk) is such a look man, I'm in love

-Lou waking up in the morning to make breakfast for Jackie after their first night together is honestly the gayest shit 😭

-Katy and Kristen's spouses are the strongest soldiers

-Ed Harris knows how to play a bad guy, his presence on scene is so powerful, he doesn't need to say anything to be noticed

-Kristen would rock as the Ellie Williams from tlou part 2. I'm sorry , but Lou is so Ellie coded, I mean, Kristen appearance alone as she looks just like her and she is so damn good on screen. I know Ellie already has an actress and Kristen is too old for the role but let a girl dream ok? Lol

Also, they didn't pick Katy as Abby cuz it would be so weird to see her big muscle ass beating the shit outta Bella's Ellie. Def wasn't about acting skills cuz Katy is also a powerful and captivating actress

-"Im wanna stretch you. I wanna see how far you can go" OMG and Kristen delivery too?🥵

In Brazil we have this expression "quero ser marmita de casal" that basically says "I want this couple to eat the shit outta me" and boy I want to be Lou and Jackie's marmita so bad

-Jackie's murdering JJ was so damn satisfying.

-Its enough of me being a gay mess, let's talk about movie shit.

It's so well done, everything. From writing, to directing, soundtrack, cinematography and the acting. The acting was 10/10

The way the tension is well built and the plot and the characters reveals itself, without rush or expository dialogue.

It also has a message on drug use like, don't do drugs y'all. Jackie high on steroids was terrifying to watch and that's the thing. It doesn't matter how good it makes you feel, it still fucks you up in the end. It ain't worth it. Yeah is an already well known stuff but they did execute this pretty well in the movie, mostly with visual storytelling

And Lou family drama is so real and painful, like, how many women suffer as Beth?

Katy is already fit but for sure she did some prep for Jackie and for women it is twice as hard to look strong and ripped as she did in the film so yeah, great work.

Ive saw some comments about giant Jackie and like bruh it's a metaphor for her to stand up for Lou and herself. She became a monster after saw Lou heartbroken after seeing Beth all beat up and now to save her , she became a giant, a hero. That's love, it makes you bigger

And they got a happy ending.

#love lies bleeding #kristen stewart #katy o'brian #ed harris #wlw movie #lesbian

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faebriel · 9 months

Text

and you caused it: chapter 2

(click for more detail!)

In which Niki has a terrible secret, Puffy just wants to move on, Tommy sneaks into casino parties and Wilbur learns to deal with anger being justified. Or - the one thing they don't warn you of, when dropping nuclear warheads on old friends, is fallout.

in chapter two: arguments are had. roommates are invited to crash on an attempted murderer's metaphorical couch. more emotionally intense conversations are had over l'manberg's skeleton corpse, and niki is once again alone.

wc: 5k

Wilbur has always been a builder. Alright. Perhaps not practically. Wilbur's attempts at piecing together bases made of wood and stone leave much to be desired. But metaphorically, there's the crux of it - Wilbur builds stories, narratives, chord progressions and nations. There is something about the world, as caught in his eyes, that is always empty. Devoid of life. Wilbur simply seeks to fill it. Find empty forestland, build a camper van. Build a so-so drug empire. Build a story around the camper van - some quirk to draw them in - and then build your nation, pinning your Declaration of Independance right at eye level as one waltzes through the door. Lose a war. Lose your brother. Lose an election, and build a network of TNT beneath the earth so vast and complex that despite the months that trickle from Schlatt's inauguration to Dream's patronage to Wilbur's blissful destruction, not a single person figures out how to defuse it. (Who is they, one might ask. It's a valid question. Ask Wilbur, he might say his brother, he might say the people - if one happens to be a cop, he might tell them it's none of their fucking business and come back with a warrant if they come back at all. He won't tell you they is simply Wilbur. He won't tell you that without the story, without something to fill his mind with colour and give him direction, there is no Wilbur Soot at all.) The point of all this is: Wilbur lives in constant need of some project, something to build, something that destroys. Even ill, he cannot stand to keep his hands idle. This is, perhaps, what led to his demise. It is, in any case, what leads Wilbur to the office of one Captain Puffy. “I do appreciate you lending me your time,” he says, taking a seat in the plush, worn armchair in the corner of the room. Backed in by walls, which he supposes must feel safer for the woman sitting in front of him, pen and clipboard in hand. “I know you’re not officially practicing anymore.” He’s not sure if she was officially practicing ever, actually. There’s no certificate hanging on her wall, only tapestries and paintings - fading cloth in greens and blues, and a painting of breaking waves that stretches across the wall almost as long as his armspan. It is cluttered, lived-in despite its title as an office. Above all else, clearly marked as the captain’s territory. “It’s no trouble,” Puffy says. “I’m glad - it’s nice that you wanted to come, in the first place. I did just want to spell some things out before we start, though, yeah?” Wilbur inclines his head. “Take it away.” “Right.” Puffy resettles herself in her seat, pushing a handful of curls - these ones pearl-white, although it almost looks like the browner half is the part that’s been dyed - behind her shoulder.

puffy informs wilbur right off the bat that, well, patient confidentiality is a thing - she's not gonna tell him anything about tommy, or his recovery (recovery from what, wilbur thinks - because puffy is not as slick or as licensed as he necessarily assumes she is, and can be so dedicated to her pursuit of justice that sometimes she lets the cat out of the bag). no matter! wilbur is not here to talk about tommy. in fact, he'd rather ask puffy a couple questions about herself. and, would she be interested in attending a party in las nevadas, only a few days from now?

---

las nevadas is in pandemonium but for once, wilbur can't bring himself to care - he storms after tommy, racing with thoughts that tumble over themselves in their rush to make themselves heard.

he feels betrayed. he's hurt. he's always thought the world of niki, he trusted her, he cared so fucking much what she thought of him - thought she must hate him, after l'manberg, not even worth begging for her forgiveness, couldn't keep himself from crying when she dared to give it anyway - and the whole time she'd tried to kill tommy, his brother, and did nothing but smile quietly and evade questions. the thought chafes at him. it hurts. one of his closest friends, his first lady, the entire time -

(he hadn't thought to ask those questions, but wilbur is not in his precisely right mind at the moment.)

tommy, though, makes evasion into an artform - he refuses to answer wilbur's questions, parries back with his own (admittedly deserved) barbs about the casino and quackity who does not matter right now, they're talking about niki, he'd welcomed niki into their country and their stupid dinner and tommy hadn't said a fucking word to him about it. does tommy truly not trust him so much? is he so naïve, to take a raw betrayal on the chin like this?

"She tried to kill you!" "Dream did kill me!" Tommy shouts. "Dream - he, he - he killed me and you didn't even care!"

that's not true. of course wilbur cared when tommy died, but -

limbo has a way of blurring things. for instance, priorities.

and besides, this is more than murder, this is a betrayal, he insists - a crime for the innermost circle of hell. not that tommy cares. worse things have happened. wilbur has happened. dream, apparently has happened -

and tommy refuses to divulge a word more, puffy told him that he doesn't have to tell wilbur shit if he doesn't want to and wilbur's not gonna tell him not to listen to his therapist, is he? tommy rips into him - because this isn't about wilbur, wilbur wasn't even there, he was dead, and who did that, wilbur? it's none of his business, and if tommy had his way wilbur wouldn't have even found out, because tommy knew this would happen. he knew wilbur would make this about him, knew he would twist it into something that makes the word l'manberg go sour and sickly in tommy's mouth - and wilbur can harp on about betrayal all he wants. he cares about this because it affects him. and if he fucking cared, he'd know that a near-miss with a warhead is not even close to the worst thing that's happened to tommy. he'd let tommy settle his friendship (wilbur scoffs, and that only proves tommy's point, he shrieks) with niki. it's not even close to the worst things that have happened to him since wilbur died, and if wilbur cared outside of making things all about himself, he would know that, too.

it's easy for you to be all buddy-buddy with dream, tommy retorts. it's just fucking easier for you.

and this time, wilbur lets him go - watches him disappear into the smoke and rubble, and it's a sign of how close he and tommy are these days that he doesn't even know where tommy's going.

he can't stop the river-rush of his thoughts, stewing and self-critical and fuming with a sense of anger and betrayal and loss that he can't control - he'd have better luck trying to shift the tides themselves. if niki is, as it turns out, horrible terrible awful betrayer no-coming-back - what does that make someone like wilbur?

---

niki wakes to what feels like one of the worst mornings of her life.

the thing about this morning in particular is that for once, it's not someone else's fault that she's so miserable - there's no war, there's no fruitless bickering over countries, there's nothing but the quiet sound of her breathing in her underground city. but she still feels miserable.

she drags herself to the arctic for the syndicate meeting, hoping to cling to some semblence of normalcy. she ties wobbuffet's lead to the pens, and descends to the syndicate meeting room - and is beyond relieved to see, at least, that techno has returned.

if they know what happened last night, neither he or phil are saying anything. ranboo, to his end, gives her a briefly awkward glance, but otherwise seems happy not to unsettle the waters. thank god. the meeting opens, as planned, and the three of them welcome techno back to the main server. techno is just as happy to see them (although he still tries to hide quite how much, still a bit vulnerable about this whole having friends thing), and summarily informs them:

quackity and sam are torturing dream in the prison

he has, in fact, spent some time in the prison (thanks for the escape, phil, definitely didn't leave me hanging for a good couple weeks) and seen this with his own two eyes

and techno owes dream a favour, y'know. from l'manberg days. so the syndicate is going to break dream out of the prison.

cue mild pandemonium.

phil's heard the plan already, he has no questions. ranboo and niki, though, hearing this for the first time, have several - mostly centred around why are we breaking dream, of all people, out of prison - prison the server put him in, we were there, we were both there. niki has never liked dream, and really, was more than happy to see him put in the prison - he's a bully, he's a tyrant, and if anything his imprisonment kept her and jack from having to sort out how exactly they would well-deservedly take him down a peg after the whole. y'know. tommy thing.

(she hasn't spoken to jack in quite some time, she suddenly thinks again, spurred on by the memory of their talks. it's another thing to feel guilty about, even if jack made it clear her presence, if not productive, was not wanted.)

ranboo, on the other hand, is terrified - especially after the night before, still twitchy.

"Dream isn't - he isn't safe! He - Techno," and their voice drops, "the voices - " "You'll be fine," Techno assures him. "Besides, wasn't the point that he was messing with you to do shit that he couldn't? When he's outta prison he's not gonna mess with you anymore. Easy." "It's not - I - it's not just that, actually, anyway. I mean, he tried to kill Tubbo. In the vault, and everything." "I have also tried to kill that guy," Techno explains, as if to a young child - "many times. Water under the bridge. No big deal." Ranboo's face takes on an ill-fitting shape - stony, for a brief second cold - and says testily, "I wouldn't say that - "

ranboo tries to push their arguments further, but splutter to a stop - his head hurts suddenly, claws finding their way to press against his temple, and eventually goes quiet. niki, though, is still frustrated. she's never liked dream, not from the very first second she stepped on this server. she was perfectly happy to leave dream in prison. he's not the only bad person, sure - are there others niki has thought deserving of being locked up in her time, some more validly than others, absolutely - but he's a tyrant, and niki said her piece when it comes to playing nice with tyrants years ago. she doesn't.

(and if dream is out again, some part of her thinks - with dream comes war, and with war comes more betrayal and hurt and uncertainty and instability, and niki feels unstable enough thanks to what she's wrought with her own two hands. she already feels like she's spent the last twenty-four hours tumbling downward, and if dream is free, the ground beneath her will shake hard enough that she will never be able to get herself back up. she's safe. she was - and, she tries to remind herself, will be - happy. she doesn't want a selfish bully to ruin that because techno thinks he owes something to someone who shouldn't be owed a thing.

and, she hates to think it - she's heard tommy ramble, even when she knows he hopes she's forgotten, and she's heard him rattle off his rambling fears of dream. and she saw the vault. she saw tommy and tubbo in the vault, beaten and bruised and with a blade to tubbo's neck. and puffy always seemed to know more, barely keeping herself from spilling whatever else tommy has told her. niki has known tommy has... problems. and that's sat with her uncomfortably since that night in her cabin, baking bread, because he was far kinder to her than she deserved because he could see that she was struggling and she, well, hasn't done the same.

thinking of niki's part in all this, now that it has been dragged back into the open - of wilbur's blatant interrogation of him even as tommy practically begged him to shut the fuck up - yes, she feels like to some extent, she owes him a favour.)

techno, though, responds with unexpected ire - so niki doesn't feel like helping? it's not even a case of what if one of their friends was stuck in there, under quackity and sam's control - techno was stuck down there, and yet apparently taking down such an oppressive power isn't something niki cares about?

the ensuing argument is defensive and nasty. both techno and niki feel deeply hurt, feel that the other doesn't care about their safety, and both are stressed enough to lash out at each other about it - and phil and ranboo are both mostly unwilling to step in. for niki, though, it's not just a matter of whether she participates herself - she feels that if dream is out at all, her world will get turned on its head. and to be entirely honest, she's not in a good headspace right now. if techno is painting himself as an adversary right now then niki will fight tooth and nail, because there's that awful cloying anger crawling up her throat and god, it has to go somewhere.

so in a desperate attempt to call off the thing, niki threatens to leave the syndicate if they break dream out of the prison.

...it's a respectable attempt at a trump card. unfortunately, three-fourths of the decision has already been made. techno, feeling defensive and angry and above all else betrayed by niki's apparent lack of care for what could have been his plight, informs her promptly of where the door is. ranboo, struggling to hold onto his waking self, has nothing to add. phil makes an attempt to soften the blows between them, to keep the bridge from being burnt - but niki is furious and embarrassed that it didn't work, and techno is just incensed enough to let her leave.

niki storms out, retreats to her little cottage. she stands in the centre of the small space, passively taking in all these small details - her weapons rack, her baking nook, her winter quilts and her flowerboxes. so many of them from techno, phil and ranboo, and now she can hardly stand to look at them.

she rips through the cottage like a hurricane gone loose. every plate and dagger and glass bottle goes crashing to the floor, blanketing its surface in a snowbed of ceramic and glass. pillows are thrown at walls. a bag of flour is ripped, and spills across the floor like even more snowdrift. and then niki stands in the centre of it - some part of her hoping to god that the others are still deep in the syndicate room, though most of her just doesn't give a fuck anymore - and wails.

she did the right thing. she did the good thing. she knew the villain was imprisoned for a reason, she believes in that imprisonment, she was right there when he was sentenced and every drop of her blood sang for revenge as he was silenced. and now she's thought about the hurt she's caused people, and for once, she stood up for him instead. she's lost the final tethers she had. she's unmoored. adrift. nowhere to go but beneath the earth. it's one thing to lose the syndicate, another to lose wilbur - to lose both, all in the span of a day, is a blow that niki isn't sure she can handle.

and it didn't even fucking matter, because they're going to break dream out anyway.

Each shard of glass is a face in the vault, discarded against the wooden floor.

niki is furious. furious at techno, furious at phil and ranboo for doing nothing, furious at herself - guilt is not something she has had to reckon with before, and the feeling chafes at her like an ill-fitting glove. there's always been a sense of discomfort that comes with being wrong, that moment sent off-kilter, when her perception of reality shifts and what is and what is not change like water. she remembers when tommy died, when ripples cast across the water and her grudge was revealed as just as stupid and petty as it always had been, that the source of her fury was wilbur - and even then, how left me became died became suicide and fury sunk back into its forgotten twin, grief. but even then, it wasn't like this. it wasn't her fault. this, undoubtably, is. she thought she had gotten over it. perhaps that's an exaggeration - she thought she was getting over it, making amends, even if slowly. even if she couldn't quite say the words, admit she was wrong, make herself vulnerable again.

god. has she always been so selfish? so cowardly? when l'manberg burned, did niki even pull herself from its ashes? it doesn't fucking feel like it, now. it feels like every slow step of healing has been worth nothing.

it feels like the second she stopped being either of those things, she lost everything. again.

niki thinks of how even in the depths of their planning - at her worst, at her most violent (towards tommy, sure, but towards herself the most), even when they didn't trust each other - she and jack could always agree on one thing. together, they hated dream.

niki has been a coward. not in the face of tyrants, but in the face of her own guilty conscience - putting her name next to her misdeeds. fine. if the universe, threaded into puffy's voice, calls on her to make amends - so she will. and so she'll rip tyrants to pieces, if that is what clearing the conscience means for niki nihachu.

---

niki walks to snowchester. tommy opens the door.

"Niki?" Tommy asks, cautious. He doesn't close the door on her, as she thought he might - doesn't even waver, although his expression goes a bit shuttered. "What d'you want?" She thought about this. She ran it over in her mind as she walked all the way here from the Arctic, alone with her thoughts - she's rehearsed the script this time, wrapped the warning in wool, made sure she's careful, because she's trying - "Techno is going to break Dream out of the prison," she blurts out. Fuck. The effect on Tommy is instantaneous, a stormcloud rolling over him - first his breathing goes, and then a hand to the chest, as if he can't believe the lack of air himself. He steadies himself against the door, although his eyes sink to the ground, unable to meet hers, and all Niki can do is stand there silent and try to think think think and, not for the first time, think oh god please don't cry. She hears Tubbo's voice faintly down the grand entrance of the place, followed by footsteps - he recognises her as he approaches, shoving Tommy out of the doorway, staring her down with sharp animosity. "Get off of my fucking property," he informs her. "Techno's breaking Dream out," she repeats, and Tubbo's face falls. "You're lying," he says immediately. "They're not that stupid. They're not that stupid - " "Techno says he owed Dream - " "The favour," Tommy gasps. "Tubbo, Tubs - Dream helped him escape, after the execution - he always said he owed him something..." Tubbo's face goes sheer, snow white.

snowchester, once again, is now considered an almost-military base of operations - niki is clearly unwelcome, but her muffins still sit on the kitchen counter and she's the one with information (ranboo hasn't come home, he hasn't been answering tubbo's comms, and out of the three of them niki is somehow the one to see him last). there isn't much they can do. they don't have the force. and, of course, it wouldn't be hard for dream to find them. even if tommy never stepped foot in his hobbit-house again, dream would find snowchester too easily.

...an idea occurs to niki.

the underground city is not the perfect hiding place. there are people who know about it, people who can't necessarily be trusted - or at the very least, not accounted for. who knows what jack or hbomb or karl are doing right now. who knows what kind of assumptions techno would make if dream were to let slip that snowchester is empty.

but the two of them can't go on the run. tubbo has michael, for god's sake, and he's not putting that kid in harm's way for anything. it will have to be secure enough - shrouded, perhaps, by the fact that of all the people he's crossed, dream has never really given niki the time of day. and thank fucking god for that. tommy's been in better straits, and tubbo is still extremely suspicious of niki (he's pieced together how jack and niki would have pulled off this whole scheme of theirs, and his place in it, and he is not fucking impressed), but under the cover of night - on the eve of the prison break - they escape to the city.

niki watches as the three of them settle in. her underground city was meant to be a place for refugees once, away from the horrors of war - although that was before the nuke, and doomsday, and tommy burning that stupid house down. before even the detonation of november 16th. it has been a long time since refugees stayed here.

she supposes she should feel some kind of fulfilment, seeing it live out its purpose again. perhaps she does. mostly, she feels a bit awkward and uncomfortable. too vulnerable. maybe that's half the point.

it's a first step.

---

niki can't sleep.

is her pointless turmoil any surprise, at this point? after all that time alone in her city, somehow the thought of people actually inhabiting those empty rooms is just as distracting. she decides to go for a walk to clear her mind, and where should she end up but sitting at the edge of l'manberg's crater - feet tracing the old path to her bakery, before she burned it down with her own two hands - and who should she run into, but wilbur.

"O mighty Nemesis, amid the ruins of what she reaps," a voice drawls from behind her - and the sound of it is like ice water down her back, a harsh tug on the fragile threads barely holding her together, but she can't still bring herself to turn. Can't bring herself to see the look on his face - betrayal, fury, hatred. She lets her eyes sink onto the wreckage instead, every bitter angle of it. "I never really asked why that was your little codename, you know," he continues. "Seems a bit on the nose, don't you think?" Niki lets her forehead sink onto her knees. "Fuck off, Wilbur."

wilbur is not being his kindest. niki ponders whether she deserves it. fucking probably, right. she did try to kill his little brother. forget everything she's done since, because wilbur's always kept his allies close to his heart, and betrayal is one of those things that hurts him more than any blade would. she doesn't rise to his remarks. she sees absolutely no point in it. wilbur is stubborn as a bull when he wants to be, and after all these years niki's finally learned when to stop wasting her energy reining him in.

doesn't make her feel any better that his current rampage is directed at her, though.

he's stressed, you see - not that you would care is a halfhearted barb, and niki almost rolls her eyes at it - because he needs to find tommy. he needs to speak with tommy, but his base is empty and snowchester is empty and he's not replying to his comm and phil mentioned that he saw niki heading towards snowchester that afternoon. he doesn't suppose niki has seen tommy at all, has she?

she tries to keep her face even. but here's the thing -

niki could barely lie about committing a murder while actively leading the victim-to-be into a trap, and wilbur - who, if you think about it, never really retired from politics - sees through her attempts to evade immediately.

you know, wilbur says, and then - haven't you done enough? don't tell me you're causing trouble for him again. where is he? where is he?

she could tell him. probably, she should tell him. tommy is his brother, after all, and for all that wilbur's anger burns, she knows how much he cares about tommy. hell, once upon a time that was the entire point of her own... episode. but.

"I can't trust you," she says, pretends it sounds as definitive as she wants it to. "I can't - I don't think I can trust you to say. Not while Dream is out." Wilbur's eyebrows raise - his shoulders do too, lined with tension. "Dream is out?" "He will be. Tomorrow." Niki nods in the direction of the Arctic. "The Syndicate will be breaking him out tomorrow - not me, I'm not... with them anymore, but - didn't someone tell you?"

no, no one did. not phil, not techno, not ranboo. wilbur lives in phil's attic half the time now (more than half, she supposes, if she guesses how quackity would respond to the casino's destruction) and they hadn't said a word.

despite wilbur's apprehension over that, he has greater issues to deal with right now - incredulous that of everyone, niki doesn't trust him because of dream. (after, he reminds her - he keeps reminding her - after what she did.)

"I told you - I told you about limbo," he says, voice fraught. Even now, when they're fighting, some part of Niki hurts at the fragility in his voice. She steels her resolve. "I told you what it was like, about Dream - and you still don't trust me?" "I don't know," she says, and finds that to be, for once, the honest answer. "You said you were sorry about destroying L'Manberg too - you said you were done with all of that - and then, then Las Nevadas, Wilbur! How could you go back to that?" Even he has the shame to look abashed. "So many people could have gotten hurt. We were lucky - we were lucky - Ranboo warned us, and even then, it was close. It was too close, Wilbur. I don't - I don't know what else you'll do. I don't know anymore."

what else can niki say? yes, he told her about limbo. it sounds horrifying. it sounds heartbreaking. he also told her he was sorry for blowing up l'manberg, for forgetting the people betwixt the grand thing that was their country, and that he would try. and yet las nevadas' casino is in ruins, half the server barely escaping with a life intact. and even that was only thanks to ranboo, in the end.

more people would have died unknowing, entirely unaware of the danger until the ground lit up beneath them and they all woke up in their beds, sparkling with burns and regen effect - and tubbo has only one life left, and who even knows how lives work after revival? who knows how many other people in that casino would have one life left too?

he told her he didn't want to fuck it up again. and she told him you left me, you said you'd come back for me and you looked for the button first, and he did the entire fucking thing again.

niki could have died. again. because wilbur was silent.

this - this is the killing blow.

(for as hurt and disgusted and fucking confused as wilbur is, there is still a part of him - bone-deep and steeped in habit - that holds niki's words in high esteem. her response is perfectly predictable, in the midst of his own fury and feelings of betrayal in her direction, and yet the vulnerability of it all stings something fierce anyway.)

they splutter arguments at each other for a few more minutes, running hot with anger, but they achieve nothing. ultimately, both have said their piece - it is not long before even wilbur gives up on the conversation, retreating to the arctic.

niki is done with haunting l'manberg for the night, and returns to the underground city with an eye cast over her shoulder, just in case she's followed. wilbur is far from the type to stalk someone through the woods, but of every possible person on the server, it's his brown coat that she keeps subconsciously looking out for between the trees.

tommy is awake when she comes back, fidgeting with his comm as he sits in what was once planned to be a common area. he tries to call her over for conversation, but she brushes him off as she storms towards her bedroom, resigning herself to another night of staring eyes-wide at the grey, emotionless stone of her ceiling.

she doesn't see the frustrated kind of grief in his expression as she goes.

#my fics #and you caused it tag #wooooo #also i dont usually talk about designs but its art time so. tommy has one permanently dilated pupil from Prison Era #i think ive rambled about other design choices at length but i dont know if ive mentioned that one so. :]#my art

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crassinova · 8 months

Note

Tell me about your OCs 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

UPDATE DEC 14 2023 if you saw the last one no you did NOT NO YOU DIDNT! NO YOU DID NOT THat was embarrasing so now heres a cooler and BETTER ONE

TW: Drug abuse, Religious trauma (implied homophobia)

uaga what was i gonna type down here again????? oh well uhh thankyou everyone and fuck you tenna

Images below are placeholders for now before i remake/made all their reference sheets. again if anything sounds weird blame my lack of vocabulary and everything

anyway thank you for reaiding

“Chancellor” (He/Him)

A mysterious stranger who is seen wandering in the wastes, appearing and disappearing. He is perceived as a guardian angel to people who were once saved by him from danger. Though some others think differently, believing he is a “prolific serial killer” due to his abundant kills and getting away with it freely. Previously seen in the Mojave frequently tagging along with the lone courier, MJ Akabine, until he disappeared to the Commonwealth to occasionally aid the sole survivor, Cain Cross, on finding his son…while also being chased by the synth detective again. It makes you really wonder what his story is if the detective is so adamant on knowing more about him, especially how little is known about him.

Trivia:

Is occasionally seen in The Tops theatre at 10PM to listen to The Lonesome Drifter. Assumptions is that its his favorite singer since he’s seen more often when the drifter was introduced in the tops.

He can play the guitar!

Has a fear of fire…why is that necessary???

Marty Jean “MJ” Akabine (they/them)

An eccentric and sneaky gunslinger and part-time mad scientist who can always lend a hand (metaphorically and literally) to people who are in need of help. Though despite his quirky and eccentric behavior towards their close friends and victims they are quite an anxious mess! ( their charisma is a 1 or 2… or even at the negatives).

Occasionally been seen dragging raiders/ dangerous people to a recluse area to experiment on them to make new unique healing items and for curiosity sake. If the victim is lucky to survive their experiments they set them free, expecting the victim that they stop their reign of terror.

Back when they were a courier…well an ex-courier they had a strong obsession on becoming stronger so they can prove to people he is capable of surviving the wastes. They were really insecure about everything about themself like “What will make me stronger?” or “Will this makes me stronger?” which in their solution to that is to take drugs and force themselves to use more blunt fighting methods because they think it’ll make them “stronger”. That didn’t go so well.

Trivia:

Has a special interest in all kinds of small little creatures like insects and bugs as they are dressed like a cazador that are mostly populated in the Mojave.

Probably ate someone, theres no evidence of it but he probably did or not idk

has a strong father-son relationship with Chancey. The coat he has on right now is from Chancey before they have to seperate paths. They just "slightly" modified it

He got that name because two (or three) of his groupmates named him at the same time. Which formed Marty Jean Akabine. (though in reality its my indecisive ass having trouble choosing Jean and Marty so i used both. Oh yeah the name "Marty" idea is when i remembered the protag from back to the future for some reason and thought it was cool)

Cain Cross (He/Him)

A sole survivor from the great war who was under cryogenic stasis beneath vault 111 for 2 decades, a man lost in time trying to find his lost son to rebuild his life. His life before the Great War was decent to say the least, if you ignore his struggles. He was apart of the Cross family, a religious and wealthy family that want what’s best for their children, to be pure and free of sin. For what seems to be a straight male with a loving family with a wife and a child, he kept that act for as long as he can remember in the name of everyone, to his parents, society, and God. All what his parents taught him go in vain as he prayed on and on wishing he could wash away the sins he made with a man during the 2nd Battalion. The guilt lingers on due to the fact he never told his wife about the affair before she died.

Trivia:

Gay (if it isnt obvious enough. He likes Maccready) and also asexual

Really likes detective media like the silver shroud, his parents didn’t like him liking childish things so he reads them in secret.

he wears shades because to look cool and because i would also be irritated if the sun keeps blinding me

think of johnny cage but hes not egotistical and suffers from internalized homophobia

Abel Cross (He/They?)

Back before the war, they were perceived as the “The golden child” due to his outstanding grades and leadership skills. Their parents noticed his potential in the business and planned his entire life of being a business man… a life he never even wanted. He wasn’t fond of the attention as they like their time alone (and also with his brother, Cain). He wanted to do art which was something he was passionate in because it gives him freedom to do whatever with a canvas, he wanted to be free, to make their own choices. But he wanted to make his parents proud of him, they already planned his life around and he didn’t want to disrupt their plans so he forced himself into business. And for what? a couple of bones and a person who doesn’t exist?

Trivia:

had a huge identity crisis after the war (imagine having your parents shape your life and identity that you have no free will. he started to draw and paint more after the war so that’s good atleast)

Despite his charismatic personality he really just wants to sleep and watch his brother play video games and make art and eat hot chip and lie (he’s bisexual)

Lustful. Though he has to keep it a secret because of his parents strict behavior (Cain is aware of it but he doesnt tell because he isn’t a snitch(i wont elaborate than that because im uncomfortable just talking abt it further for now))

fun fact abt the Cross siblings: they have a matching snake tattoo that representing “sin” and freedom from their religious background. (based on the serpent in the Adam and Eve story)

YIAPEEE DONE ATLAST!!!!!!! thank you for reading this behemoth of text!!!!! there are more fallout ocs to be told but these 4 are the ones that I like so aahwhahhwhahwaaaaa !!!!! Shout out to my friend tenna for reading this once in a while I really hate them

#asks #I had to rush writing this cus I had to study for math and I was really hungry starveing I was starving #thank you for asking <3 <- that’s a face #ofc questions are encouraged if u wanna know something%#there will be more drawings in the future and a art dump. I’m just busy with school I’m so tired

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silviakundera · 4 months

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Empresses in the Palace ep 16

"And now she dares to take away my Persian Ink!" Hard agree, my darling Hua Fei. Screwing your man is one thing, but fucking with your brows is another!! ✊

but babe, why u want to live with a baby??

Lmao look I know its A BABY but it's a fictional one and I'm amused that her palace is so crap at taking care of it. My career girl is just NOT the maternal type. Drugs the kid with crushed sleeping pills; "It works just fine on me." lmaoooooo

ffffuvk she's looking ragged in front of the emperor GURL let that baby go. Neither of you are having a good time.

Zhen Huan, I know the emperor is your dad's age but this fickle dude that might kill you or your besties someday is not the DILF protector you need, in metaphorical OR literal thunderstorms.

Empress savoring the new girl being humiliated by the new new girl 💅

While Zhen Huan plans for the long game by serving up Ling Rong. She's in it to win it now. Definitely feeling disconcerted about matchmaking her friend with her husband but willing to do it so they have a stronger backing in the palace. The first sign for me tbh that she could be empress material. And tbh for once the Empress isn't laying it on thick. LR truly has a celestial voice. Consort Yu supposedly was admired for her pipes but she has nothing on LR. The way she looks back. Yaaaasss always leave them wanting more.

That half-sister is gonna become a real problem.

me trying to picture how u draw eyebrows "like distant mountains"

ep 17

Prince Guo is not hot but not grandpa. He's also not the source of humiliation & suffering for a busload of ladies. I'm sold! yeah, I ship it. Please bang in despair at your wasted lives at least once, thx.

Hua Fei taking a big swing to frame up Zhen Huan by poisoning the favored baby. But it's not actually that risky, because her brother is impeccable armor.

Duan Fei is the real MVP. Everyone knows she's lying but the emperor clearly respects her and isn't willing to embarass her. No more than he's willing to severely punish my gf Hua.

Hope Duan gets her revenge.

Ep 18

So the emperor totally knows Hua Fei posioned the kid that he actually likes, but General Nian's skills trump all.

I'm honestly not sure if Zhen Huan should be trying to push the emperor to not reward Hua Fei. He's gonna do what he thinks he needs to.

Half-sister Huanbi is getting on my NERVES. And finally ZH's, thank god.

Prince Guo is so chill. He just strolled by like, hey crying servant, what's up? oh, somebody dissed your look? you're doing amazing sweetie, don't worry be happy. (Exit stage left.)

I think I love him.

Our protagonist with a BIG WIN. (crowd sounds) 👏 👏 proved half-sister is a traitor and her nemesis finally annoyed the emperor enough that she'll miss a promotion.

Girl, u know I love u. You're the only one for me. But Hua Fei, darling, you really need to properly space out your scheming. It's too much. The man needs some time, space, and calm to properly ponder how much he loves & appreciates your brother.

Ep 19

This episode should be subtitled "The Tale of Two Loves' or '2 Ships For The Price of One'.

First she risks it all to sneak in to hold hands longingly and shed tender tears with her Mei Zihuang. Then romantic coincidental rescue by Prince Guo and a late night boat ride with poetry & literature musings.

And I'm winning because I ship both of them.

Not sure how I feel about Half-Sister Intervention. Huanbi's situation is fucked and in a different drama she'd be the revenge-seeking protagonist. But she's also dumb as hell to want to join the harem and give up the chance to escape to a normal life. She's seen what a hell this place is. Ultimately, she has reason to resent ZH and their family. And she has a dangerous secret. What if she flips again? Just get rid of her ASAP. It's life & death struggles over here, no space for second chances.

#empresses in the palace #cdrama #i binged yesterday waiting for Love Song for Ilusion 2 weekly ep to drop #now today i can catch up in peace #the soothing thing about horror for me #is that i know most everyone is fated for a bad end #it removes stress and tension from me #im just watching these lil guys on the screen have hilariously awful things happen to them #oh look its a series of unfortunate events 😯

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midnightcreator12 · 11 months

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I watched Across the Spiderverse

And here are some random things my brain noticed while watching.

Spoilers ahead, you have been warned.

1: Miles’ suit is too small

In the first movie, Miles’ clothing is a BIG visual metaphor for his character arc. He has the store-bought costume for most of the movie, it doesn’t fit well, he looks like a kid in a halloween costume, just pretending to be Spiderman. When he gets a proper suit, it’s when he become more confident in not just his abilities as Spiderman but in his identity as Spiderman.

In Across the Spiderverse, serval people comment that Miles’ suit looks too tight, (Spot saying it’s bunching in the back, Spider-Punk saying it doesn’t look breathable, Peter B mentioning chafing) I think it’s meant to show that following along with the normal Spiderman script will only constrict Miles in the long run, that he has to write his own Spiderman story. Writing your own story is a heavy theme in both films and I’m betting it will carry over into the third.

2: No Mask = Abnormal

In the Spider Central chase scene, Miles isn’t wearing his mask the entire time. Normally, with characters wearing full masks, having it off is to help convey heavy emotions or valurability. But I think Miles not wearing the mask is to make him stand out as ‘other’. He is the most mold breaking Spiderman in the multiverse by the simple virtue that the spider that bit him wasn’t supposed to be there.

But you know who else doesn’t have their masks in that scene? Peter B, Gwen and O’Hara towards the end. All three of these guys have events that separate them from the normal Spiderverse ‘canon’.

Gwen is the one bitten, when normally it’s a Peter that gets the powers, she loses her best friend instead of an uncle and it seems like the ‘police captain dies’ canon event isn’t going to happen in her world because her dad quit.

Peter B. is the closest to the traditional canon but where he diverts is the fact he managed to salvage his marriage and life. Most versions have Peter and MJ constantly just missing on working things out, because of tragedy or secrets or whatever else. Peter B not only got a happy ending but a kid as well.

O’Hara is unique in that he wasn’t bit by a spider but, if we go by the comic origin, genetically spiced spider DNA with his own in order to get unaddicted to drugs. He also relies more on tech then his powers, since the abilities he got varied a lot from the normal Spiderman powers.

We can actually include Spider-Punk too, since he takes the mask off when they arrive and doesn’t put it back on, showing that he is ‘other’ in the sea of Spider People.

3: The Spot and O’Hara Have Construction Lines

This one I need to do a rewatch a few times to cement BUT after my first view, The Spot and O’Hara seem to be the only characters with visible construction lines in their design. The Spot’s are best scene in the first act (when he’s mostly white) and O’Hara’s are best visible during the exposition drop.

If these two are the only characters with visible construction lines....why? Is it because both are dimension jumpers? Is it meant to tie these two somehow? Is it meant to show O’Hara is actually a bad guy?

I don’t know, I just thought it was neat.

4: O’Hara is Wrong About the Multiverse Rules

Yes, this is theory territory, bear with me for a tick.

O’Hara makes it sound like Pavitr’s dimension is going to collapse because Miles saved the police captain, because disrupting conon events will make the dimension unstable...

But Dimension 42 still exists.

42 Miles was meant to become Spiderman, but Olivia’s collider pulled the spider out of its reality and disrupted the canon. That spider is the catalyst for the canon event that kicks of the entire Spiderman story. If something like saving one guy is enough to endanger a dimension, surely disrupting the inciting incident will make the world shatter, right?

But dimension 42 is stable. Yeah, the sinister six are running rampant, probably along with a bunch of other villains, but the fabric of the reality seems to be fine.

I don’t think it was O’Hara messing with the canon that destroyed the world he was on, I think it was the fact he was there for a long time.

We know a person staying in the wrong dimension can kill them, this can be seen as reality trying to fix itself. But what if the reality can’t because the anomaly is protected? It collapses. Like a body trying to burn out parasites with a fever. But the parasites have a watch that makes them immune to heat so the body just kills itself trying to ‘fix’ things.

As long as everyone stays in the right reality, they can write where it goes.

5: And While We’re Doing Theories!

I think Earth-42 Miles is still a good guy. Maybe he’s a little darker and probably has fewer moral qualms, but I think he and Uncle Aaron are like rebelion fighters against the sinister six and they only tied up 1610 Miles because they think he’s a part of a plot from them (evil clone, elaborate trap, ect)

Aaaand that’s all I got, everything else is things others have already pointed out.

Have a nice day!

#across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse

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sennamybeloved · 7 months

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songs that remind me of mileena and i:

cannibal by kesha (yeah she eats people ion know what to tell you. "i have a heart, i swear i do / but just not, baby, when it comes to you / i get so hungry when you say you love me" + "whenever you tell me i'm pretty / that's when the hunger really hits me / your little heart goes pitter-patter / i want your liver on a platter" + "be too sweet and you'll be a goner".. cannibalism as a metaphor for love expect its not a metaphor she is just insane.)

tongues and teeth by the crane wives ("i've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel / it's all that I can give to you, my dear / and when you come in quick to steal a kiss / my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear" + "i will only break your pretty things / i will only wring you dry of everything / and if you're fine with that / you can be mine like that" .. HUGEEE mileena pov.)

we will commit wolf murder by of montreal (if i start associating this song with an f/o that's how you know i'm too far gone .. "now i'm considered ugly from every angle / you're the only beauty i don't wanna strangle" + "i wanna get all fucked up, and tell you how i really feel / cause your vibrant blackness, coco augury is so unreal / when I die, I want you to die too, not try to stay in this or / any dimension without you, spit on this planet without you" + "and if I'm a monster possessed to mangle / you're the only dancer I don't wanna strangle" .. that last one specifically is killing me)

painkiller by the queenstons ("your hurried sense is like a drug / your hand strokes through my hair / the taste of copper on my tongue / tet me show you how much i care" + "the pain rushes through me i love how it feels / tearing through my outsides reaching in / don't be careful, let's begin" + "i need to breathe before i drown / but i don't wanna go" .. i <3 the queenstons. whatever this song has going on is totally what mileena and i have going on.)

in my mouth by black dresses ("i wanna put you in my mouth / i wanna crush you in my jaws" + the pre-chorus but im not putting all that shit here .. yeah this is basically the same deal as cannibal.)

my love mine all mine by mitski (visibly tearing up. its the vibes, man)

you're so creepy by ghost town ("now i'm covered in blood / and i'm feeding off your pretty little lies / for once why can't you just come and chase me? / dig up my grave and save my body / i'm rotting to the bone but my heart's still beating / hoping you won't leave me" .. mileena is my ultimate creepy girl :3)

with you forever by rebzyyx ("i want you forever / please stay here forever / you're so perfect / you're so worth it / i just want you to know it" .. yyeahg)

hold tight + love bite, both by renard !! VOLUME WARNING; THESE ARE NOISE TRACKS !! (no lyrics or anything i just really like the vibes of these)

prisoner by jeffr/ee st/ar (yeah i know i hate this loser too but please consider .. "you can arrest me, baby, i don't wanna leave / lock me up, throw away the key / i don't care if I'm in trouble deep / i'm addicted to your love")

#notably darker vibes here. hope we can handle the toxic yuri #cw cannibalism mention #uhhhhh #cw possessiveness #i GUESS? idk some of these have the implication #* 🥩 / want me down to the marrow .#lotus rambles #self ship community #self shipping #f/o community

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silverzoomies · 6 months

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Uuuh, let's try the ship thing!

We often talk but I'll give you something more juicy(?), hehe - I hope to give you useful info.

You know my physical appearance: hash blonde short hair, hazel eyes, pale, kinda skinny. Invisible breasts (lol), more "hips person" (?)!

I'm a stubborn actress/voice actress and, yeah, let's say I'm a writer too. I just love to make someone laugh and I can be veeery silly (master of dad jokes) but I start to suffer from depression and anxiety many years ago. Nostalgic, melancholic, dreamer, lil weirdo. I'd love to live in other past eras. I just adore cats, people say to me I am a part of the feline crew. I'm a creature of habit, lazy and selective but not "choosy". Even if people hurt me bad, I hope in the ones I love. If I love you, I'll be there for you. Sincerely.

Taurus. Chocolate Addict. Hypochondriac. Probably pansexual... okay.

Is It all? Nope.

Should I stop? Definitely.

Thank you in advance, my sweet friend. I'm so curious! 🩶✨

P. S. : Sorry for the errors, oopsie!

please don't apologize for any errors !! it's no biggie !!

❤️ ✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧❤️🧛‍♂️❤️✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧ ❤️

Oh, my dear friend. My sweet, gorgeous pal. My good buddy. I love you so much. Listen. Are you listening? Okay. Let’s headcanon for a moment Austin (aka Patty O’ Furniture) is bi/pansexual, yeah? That’s your man right there. Be real with me, he totally is. Think about it.

Austin, with his eccentric theatrics and charismatic stage presence (kudos to vampire drug). He’s so flamboyant, so sassy, always talking in that sing-song voice. And you? You're just as silly and entertaining. With a bit of stubborness? Ooooh~! He’d just adore you. Y’know that, right? He'd eat you up !! metaphorically, of course (he might think about doing it literally).

Since you share his interest in the arts, who’s to say he wouldn’t bond with you over them? You have these dreams of becoming an actress, with all this experience playing characters, writing, etc etc. There’s only one problem…Austin would definitely try and get you on that muse drug too. Hell, if you tried it, he’d probably lure you into his vampire escapades. Like his cute sidekick.

But, oh, you’d become such a genius of your craft, thanks to that drug. He’d admire every minute of it! Austin would love sharing ideas with you. He’s a playwright, so he might have you read and act out some lines from his work.

He seems like such a cat guy to me too. I can totally see him with a cat in his lap, stroking its soft fur. Reading over lines with you and sharing gossip from his experiences in show business. Sucks that you’re stuck forever as a vampire now. But you both make pretty gorgeous vampires. It’s so worth it, if it means spending forever in each other’s company; indulging in as much creative inspiration as possible. ❤️🧛‍♂️❤️

#txt #asks #long post #feefymo #i love you so bigly bigggg !!

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illadvisedselfships · 5 months

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Oh you're feeling sick? I'm so sorry. Get plenty of rest and warm food! ^^

If it'll make you feel better, here's a thought; imagine how Otis, Cruella, and Jim feel about Callahan, and vice versa (we already did the trio's thoughts on each other; now that a new F/O has been brought in, we must christen him XD)

Yeah, unfortunately children are full of disease 😅 I'll probably be like this for the next year but then I'll have built up immunity! ^^

AHHH yay! Here we go XDD

Cruella: Oooh well Cruella doesn't like anyone XD (Except Anita and maybe her furriers like Mr Skinner and Le Pelt- but even they are on thin ice as shown 😅), especially men, BUT Callahan is a rung up from where Jim and Otis sit at least XD They're derelicts XD 😅😅 Callahan on the other hand has a taste for the finer things ^^ He has money (He runs a billion dollar law firm). And *cough* she could honestly use his services. His agreeability to work with clearly guilty persons for the right payment is also a bonus.

Callahan can appreciate Cruella and her company (Especially in comparison to the other 2), including most importantly her money and finer tastes 😅😅😅 She is also excellent at sniffing out the blood in the water, too, so she's kind of on his level. 'Respect' may be going too far... but yeah, he has a a certain appreciation for her.

Jim: Again like Cruella- he could use a good lawyer XD How Jim's gonna pay him though I do not know. But I can totally imagine Jim with the most corrupt, sleazy lawyer ever like Callahan XD Maybe he pays him sort of under the table?? With moonshine? Drugs? A promise of a BIG payout once he gets off these charges and can get some other very illegal poaching gig? Perhaps working for Cruella.

Callahan completely underestimates Jim at the start. He thinks he's a goofy, uneducated, lily-livered geriatric alcoholic and that he can screw the poor bastard into a bad plea deal or settlement something- so Callahan can be done with another case in record time. BUT as we know Jim is not an idiot. Callahan is pleasantly surprised.

Otis: Oh boy. Callahan is everything in typical mainstream society that Otis does not vibe with 😅 He's got money, he works a nine-to-five, he gets the same run-of-the-mill 70 dollar haircut every month and he shaves every single day, etc. He's part of the 'conformist world' Otis hates. At least Cruella has her values, which may be crazy but she sticks to them, and at least Jim is not afraid to get his hands dirty (Metaphorically and literally). Callahan though is a cookie cutter stereotype, and he's two-faced, and he puts a bad taste in Otis' mouth. Callahan is lucky he still has his skin (no need to thank me Cal 🤣).

Callahan seriously looks down on Otis 😅 I don't know where on earth he gets the balls of steel, but he does.

~ Under the cut I wrote a little excerpt with the 3 of them (Mostly Callahan and Jim)... I couldn't help myself! 😅 ~

"Please Aaron," I beg, phone to my ear as I wonder slowly around the room, a pair of blue eyes on me from the couch; a printed DUI notice in his hand son his lap. Callahan's groan on the other end of the phone does not deter me. "You just need to represent him for an hour- less! Its not a biggie, its just... a little drinking and driving. He promises to never, ever do it again!"

Glancing over at Jim I see him scoff, shake his head and chuckle, and I wince. Well, that's a lie, but Callahan doesn't need to kno-

"Sure he wont. How many offences does he have? Uh... " I can practically see him holding his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose as he reads Jim's file that I subtly left on his desk earlier. "Forty five? How is this man not in prison?"

"A really good lawyer."

"Great, get him to handle this!"

"He-... he's on vacation." No need to reveal that we went to the 98-year-old lawyer's funeral a month ago. "-Look Cal, he will get you the money for this, he just needs some time. And the court date is Monday." While Callahan sits silent on his end I glance past Jim to some crates behind the couch and get an idea. "In- in the meantime, um, have you ever tried homemade moonshine?"

Jim immediately frowns. "Hold on now- "

Finally Callahan sighs deeply through the phone and I think I've got him, he probably doesn't want homemade moonshine but I think - I hope, - I made it clear I wasn't going to quit bothering him until he helped. He got Cruella off reckless driving!! Of course, he couldn't get off the animal cruelty charges, and now I only get to visit her through bars until our marriage licence comes through,.. but Jim does not have any animal cruelty charges... well, none pending at the moment at least... So this should be a snap for Callahan! No?? I stop moving around the room and root myself to the spot; listening carefully.

"Fine... but I don't want his money. For all I know it'll come from a goddamn mafia. And I don't want Cruella's, either, so don't even think about it."

"... well, I have some money saved up and- " My eyes wander over to Jim, his face going dark, glowering; he shakes head slowly. No. "He can pay me back- "

"How about you pay me another way?" My eyes snap away from Jim like a shot, and I look to the ground. What was that??

Voice lowered and much smaller, I cross my non-phone holding arm over my stomach. Um- "... what's this now?"

I can hear the smirk in Callahan's voice, the sound lower and huskier even than usual. My ears are getting hot. "You know what I mean."

Is he truly suggesting what I presume he is suggesting right now?? I mean- I'm not exclusive with anyone and everyone is g o o d with that but damn this sure is awkward. "I- "

"Look, that's my offer. You come stay with me for 2 weeks, do... whatever I ask," Oh, he's playing coy and vague. What's even the point of that at this point? Lord almighty- "And I'll get Jim off the charges."

"... " After some thought, and a glance at the crumpled DUI notice in Jim's hands, I huff out a sigh and close my eyes in embarassment. Will these people never tire of mortifying me?? Silly question, they wont- "Fineee... "

"Great! I'll send a car. See you soon, sweetheart."

"Uhuh." *click*

... For a moment I remain rooted to the spot, phone still at my ear, before gradually lowering it, tucking it into the back of my jeans and opening my eyes. Slowly I make my way over to the couch and flop down next to Jim, hanging my head on the back of the cushions. I close my eyes again and throw an arm over my eyes in defeat.

Its not like I don't want to see Callahan- I do, always, its just-... I feel bamboozled.

"... You're not paying for my bill, sugar."

"No, no." I sigh, assuring the one next to me. "We settled on a... different, payment plan."

"What do you- " When Jim sounds lost, I straighten up slightly, remove my arm from my face and open my eyes to give him an urging look. You get it. You can figure it out. Its to do with... yes, there it is. There you go. His eyebrows go up and his mouth opens. "Ah... "

"Yes." I grin, despite myself; shaking my head and straightening up the rest of the way.

A wry, teasing grin curls across his face. "... you sure are sweet."

"Don't you forget it."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Finally grinning for real, I get up again and check the time on my phone. "Okay, car's gonna be here in about an hour. If you get dinner for us now I'll go and find out what Otis has been doing in the bathroom all day."

Jim scoffs, getting up after me. "You gotta deal, there, sweetheart."

#i am kindof embarrassed to have written this- but also it was fun XD #thank you so much for this ask!!!! XDDD this was SO much fun and definitely made me feel better! XD

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alovesongshewrote · 2 years

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You Choke on His Blood - Twilight | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot: Kas!Eddie scenario but with a twist! a twist that will become very obvious very quickly. Anyway, a year before the events of season 4, Eddie takes you to a bar and things go very wrong very quickly- and they don't get better for a long, long time. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader] Part 1, Part 2,

Word count: 9,219

Warnings: BIG WARNING: this whole chapter can be read as a metaphor for date r*pe, and there is an attempted date r*pe at the end that very quickly fails. A main character is drugged, another is turned into a vampire without their consent. Other warnings include: blood and violence, gore, murder, and assumed character death. Please use caution while reading. If there's anything you'd like me to add here, please lmk

Disclaimer: Fuck netflix, fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

A/N: jesus fucking christ this chapter is 22 pages long on google docs. anyway, there's so much preamble here and most of it is the warnings- can't wait to see if i end up writing that darkfic...

Tags: i'm so sorry, but i genuinely can't remember who asked to be tagged for what. if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic, please lmk

You’d never given much thought to how you would die. You just assumed, as most others do, that you would meet your end at an old age in a hospital bed, or drift off in your sleep without suffering. In all fairness, even if you thought about how you would die every day, I don’t know how you could’ve seen your death coming.

Instead of passing on in the usual way, you were dragged behind a bar and murdered by a monster. Its venom flooded your veins. You grew fangs and claws. You lost the boy you loved. Your mortal life ended.

One year later, you sat at the same bar, alone. An untouched gin and tonic sat in front of you, glowing slightly thanks to a newly installed ultraviolet light. You glared at the drink, tapping your fingers against the glass and trying to clear your mind. Your attempts were unsuccessful.

It wasn’t like you could be blamed for that, though. Thanks to your new inhuman memory, you remembered your death as transparently as the glass before you- including the role this bar had played in your final moments.

Long story long, you’d spent most of your last human day in the bedroom of a dear metalhead friend of yours. You’d more or less taken over his bed, lying on it as you listened to him rant and rave about some bar he’d ventured out to the other night. That wasn’t too out of the ordinary. You and Eddie Munson spent most of your time ranting at each other about whatever the fuck you felt like, and you were no stranger to sneaking into bars. However, it was pure tradition for the two of you to break drinking laws together.

Maybe that was why this rant in particular was creeping under your skin. You couldn’t come up with another reason for it. Eddie wasn’t teasing you, or provoking you in any way, which was out of the ordinary. Whatever the true reason may have been, you could only sit in his room watching his perfect lips move for so long before you got sick of it.

Eventually, you were forced to act- you sat up from your spot on his bed and threw a pillow at his face with all of your strength. He was mostly unaffected.

“Something bothering you, sweetheart?”

You threw another pillow at him. It was the best way to ignore how the pet name made you feel, “Uh, yeah, there is. You’ve been talking about this place all day, and I’m almost one hundred percent sure it isn’t as metal as you say it is.”

“Oh? Are you doubting my descriptive skills, (L/N)?”

“Why, I think I am, oh great master of descriptions,” as tempted as you were to throw something else at your friend, you settled for nudging his leg with your foot. Hard.

He stood from his place on the floor, looming over you with his hands on his hips in a very half-assed attempt to be intimidating. Of course, he failed at that. As intimidating as the rest of Hawkins found him, he never managed to scare you. He was too sweet for that. His eyes were too big, too soft. Also, his smile was a dead giveaway. He tried to fight it, but it won out, practically yelling out to the world that Eddie wasn’t actually upset.

Still, he tried to sound wounded, “Harsh, (Y/N). Harsh, and cold.”

“Is that really the best you can do, Eds?” you scoffed, “I’d give those descriptive words… maybe, a three out of ten? It’s closer to a four than a two if that helps.”

“It does not,” he paused, and the smile he had been fighting took over his face. His eyes glinted, bright with mischief. That fucker had a plan.

“Eddie?” your question sounded like a warning, “What are you-?”

Before you could finish your sentence, Eddie let himself fall on top of you, effectively pinning you to the bed. You let out a squeak of rage as you struggled, wiggling around as you tried to free yourself from underneath him.

“You dick!” you screeched through your poorly disguised giggles, “Get off me, oh my god-!”

“Mm, “dick” isn’t the best descriptive word you could come up with, (L/N), I’d give it a three out of ten. Maybe scoundrel- or mayhaps villain or rogue would be better.”

Eddie’s voice was slightly muffled, his face still pressed into his sheets as you writhed about. You tried to ignore the heat that flooded your body at the feeling of his weight on top of you.

“Oh my god, get off of me.”

“Mmm, I’d rather not. You make a good pillow,” he pushed himself up on his elbows and smiled down at you. A strand of his hair was stuck to his cheek, and you had to fight off the urge to brush it away. Instead, you planted your hand in the center of his face and shoved him off of you. He gave out half a yell as he lost his balance and collapsed to the floor.

You dragged yourself over to the edge of the bed and looked down at him. The smile on his face matched the one on yours.

“Thou art a cruel and unmerciful wretch, (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Oh, bite me, Munson.”

“You wound me! And to think I was planning on taking you to a certain bar tonight.”

You rolled your eyes and extended a hand down to him. He accepted your hand and let you pull him up. As you did, you made a bit of a show of sighing and groaning as you said, “Damn, I guess that means I have to keep you alive for the next few hours.”

“You doooo,” he almost cooed at you as he returned to his seated position at the side of the bed, “Otherwise, who would watch your drink when you got distracted by something shiny, huh? And who would drive your ass home after you have one too many?”

“I’m gonna… bite you,” you grumbled, running a hand through Eddie’s hair, messing it up as much as you could.

You knew he was right. Whenever the two of you ventured out with the intent to commit the lovely crime of underage drinking, he was the one to have your back. Of course, you had his

“I’d like to see you try,” he grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from his hair and towards his chest. He didn’t seem to notice the effect that small action had on you. Instead, he just continued to ramble on about whatever came into his mind.

That was just how the two of you were. Your friendship was a mix of relentless teasing and genuine affection. And you loved it. You loved him, as deeply and truly as any one person could love another. He loved you the same way- even if you did threaten to bite him on a regular basis, which you absolutely did.

Of course, all of your feelings were felt in silence. You never told him how you felt, and it was one of your greatest regrets. If you had known what was going to happen to you that night, you would have told him everything. You would have gotten him to stay home with you. You wouldn’t have left his trailer.

You didn’t know what would happen, though. You had no way of knowing. So, you stayed silent, and you didn’t think about it too much.

Now, as you sat in the same bar he wanted to take you to, you desperately wished you could go back and make better choices. As your fingers traced shapes through the condensation on your glass, you mourned your past self and all their bad choices. After a moment of silence for your past actions, you let the memory consume you again.

The day passed quickly. Soon, you were ready to leave. Eddie draped one of his jackets over your shoulders as you stepped out of his trailer. The leather smelled like him- like warmth, spice, and weed. He ran a hand through your hair and messed it up, laughing as you grabbed at the offending limb.

“Munson, you asshole, I’m going to bite you.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said, trying and failing to hide his smile, “Look, in return, you can pick what we listen to on the way there.”

That was a high honour- one that was very rarely offered to anyone other than you. A smirk crawled its way across your face as you looked between the car and your friend, “That’s more like it, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” he questioned as you climbed into his van.

“Don’t judge- you keep calling me ‘sweetheart,’ I have to at least try to compete with that.”

“Well,” he shut the door behind you and got into the driver’s seat, “You aren’t doing the best job of that.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re winning now, whatever,” your reply was absent-minded, your attention now focused on the cassette tapes scattered throughout the organized disorder of his van. You picked up a tape and examined it before returning it to the pile, “But I will make a comeback.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I will! I’m gonna kick your ass, trust me.”

“Sure thing, man, and right after that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“You could never, I’m too adorable.”

“Damn,” he smacked the steering wheel without much force, “I think you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” your focus returned to the pile of tapes, and the van fell into silence.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was also focused on the tapes- or more specifically, the way you looked as you picked a cassette from the mess in his van. Your bottom lip was drawn between your teeth in deep concentration, and for an embarrassingly long moment, he wished that it was his teeth biting down on your lip instead.

He tried to ignore that, fighting the thought off and hoping that you didn’t notice the red dusting his cheeks. Suddenly, the silence of the van was far too loud for him.

“Hurry up and pick a damn tape, will ya? Pick one, or I’m pulling over, 'cause I’m not about to drive all the way to the bar sitting in silence like a serial killer.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. You might look scary, Cupcake, but I don’t think anything could make you into a serial killer.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I think you’d be surprised, (L/N).”

“Okay, then, tell me. What would make you, Eddie Munson, into a serial killer?”

He paused for a moment, staring straight at the road, pondering your question. As you fell to pieces laughing at him, another bigger question crossed his mind.

“Did you just call me Cupcake?”

“Would you kill me if I did?”

He sighed and stared out at the road again, choosing not to dignify your question with a response. It was a wise choice- but of course, it was one you couldn’t accept.

“So that’s a no? A no to my murder? Okay then, baby girl.”

He turned to you, his concentration on the road nearly shattered. His head was cocked to the side slightly in a very cute way. He smiled, though his eyes betrayed his utter confusion, which, really, you couldn’t blame him for.

“Sorry,” you said, tapping your fingers against the dash, “I was trying to come up with something to match ‘sweetheart’ again.”

“And the best you came up with was ‘baby girl?’” his composure was quickly slipping as he descended into giggles.

“I’m sorry! It was the first thing that came to mind!”

“The first thing that came to your mind was ‘baby girl?’”

“Oh my god,” you shoved his arm, setting off another round of giggles. It was your turn to sigh and look away.

A few moments later, when his laughter had subsided, you opened your mouth again, “So, should I go back to calling you Cupcake? I liked that one.”

He wheezed, completely unable to answer. You were thankful that the road was empty because he probably would have crashed the car. When he finally recovered, he sat up straight, wiping a fake tear from his eye, “That’s up to you, sweetheart. Just like the music. So pick something.”

“You got me,” you threw your hands up, trying to act exasperated- though the look on your face gave you away. You leaned over in your seat and returned to the cassette pile, finally choosing one.

Of course, it was a mix that you had made. There was nothing you enjoyed more than gently bullying your friend by making him listen to your taste in music. You let yourself relax in your seat as the first song on the track blasted in your ears. ‘The Chain.’ Fleetwood Mac. Musical excellence.

The setting sun cast a warm glow over your world, painting you and Eddie in gold. You watched him, a smile crossing your face as he ranted to you about some D&D thing over the music. His eyes were so bright, so alive- and you were entranced. You couldn’t look away, and you didn’t want to. If that one moment could have extended on forever, you would’ve been happy, your destination be damned.

Of course, that wasn’t the case. The sun set, the van stopped, and you arrived at the bar. Still, a year and a monstrous transformation later, that moment continued to shine like gold in your memories.

You found yourself relaxing slightly, leaning against the bar, your hand supporting your chin as you thought about it- as you thought about the way the sun lit Eddie’s hair, giving him a sort of halo, and as you remembered the way the sun changed his dark eyes to the colour of honey.

The sweet memory was quickly shattered, however, by a flash of those same brown eyes, confused and terrified, watching as that thing attacked you.

You took a sip of your drink.

Behind you, a few people entered the bar. You turned the slightest bit, taking them in without turning your head too far thanks to your belothed inhuman eyes. Among them stood a couple- one in leather, and one in a battle jacket.

You took another sip, trying to ignore how much that couple resembled you, pretending you didn’t notice the burning sting in your eyes as you remembered walking into the bar with Eddie, oblivious to what was about to happen.

Your body was tucked under his arm, distracting you, for a moment, from the fact that the bar smelled pungently of metal. You couldn’t exactly place what it was at the time- though now you knew that the smell was iron, or more accurately, rust.

Still, at the time, you paid it no mind. You were just a little distracted by the sight and sounds surrounding you. Lights flashed, drenching the dance floor in darkness before blinding you with light. The entire room was filled with people, talking, dancing, drinking, all of them densely packed into the space like metalhead sardines. You didn’t notice then, how many of them were staring at you.

You couldn’t be blamed for that. The bar was mildly overwhelming, drowning out your senses in a sea of screams and shouts and songs. Still, you couldn’t help but grin. Something about the noise made you feel particularly alive.

“Are you thirsty?” Eddie asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before he continued, “I’m thirsty. Come on, sweetheart.”

You let him take you by the hand and pull you towards the bar, stopping a few seats down from where you would sit one year later. He didn’t ask you for your drink preferences- he’d always known your tastes well. You trusted him to choose for you.

You could practically see your former self now, sitting at the bar, drink in hand, looking around with wide eyes, trying to take everything in at once and failing. You could see yourself turning back to Eddie, catching his smile as he watched you.

You spent a few hours like that, talking to each other, drinking, and simply taking in the revelry around you. Then everything started to go south.

Somewhere behind you, a fight broke out. The chaos stole your attention from the bar and the drinks in front of you. The fight took Eddie’s focus as well. He put an arm in front of you, protecting you from the edges of the fray. It was a valiant effort, and you appreciated it, even now- but maybe getting punched would have been better than what came next.

The fight ended quickly. The instigator was asked to leave, and the other man involved in the brawl was left behind, nursing what looked like a black eye. And that was that. You shared a glance with Eddie, your eyebrows raised as he grimaced. You swallowed your laughter and turned back to your drinks, not realizing that your fatal mistake had already been made.

You brought the glass to your lips.

Eddie brought his glass to his.

You both took a drink.

Your drink was fine. It didn’t taste any different than it had before. There was no powdery substance swirling around the liquid. Nothing had changed. It was fine. You were fine.

But Eddie? Eddie was not fine.

It was easy to see that something was wrong- especially when, out of the corner of your eye, you watched him take a sip of his drink, make a face, take another sip of his drink, and spit that sip back into his glass.

“Eds?” you said his name like a question, “Are you-”

“Shit. Shit-” instead of responding to you, Eddie held his drink up, trying to see it in the low light of the bar. He squinted at it, trying to focus on the liquid through the condensation.

Then he dropped the glass.

It shattered on the bar’s surface, spraying glass fragments and alcohol in every direction. A few people jumped back, and you joined them with a yelp- but not before a shard managed to slice your hand open.

Your focus wasn’t on your own pain, though. Nope, you were entirely focused on how Eddie had barely moved. It looked as if he was slumping forward slightly- like he was off balance, uneasy on his feet.

“Eds?” your voice and hands shook as you reached out for him. Before your hand met his shoulder, he bolted upright, his hands braced against the bar.

“That was too quick. It shouldn’t have happened that fast-” his words were quiet. He wasn’t talking to you.

“Eddie, what are you talking about-?”

“Something’s wrong. We should leave,” he sounded so serious in that moment- almost scared. You’d never heard him sound that way before.

“What’s- what’s going on?”

“Someone put something in my drink,” he turned and tried to smile at you in what you had to guess was an attempt to keep you calm. It didn’t work. His movements were off- slightly subdued and sluggish. He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

And, in fact, he was. He was dizzy, drowsy, and overall experiencing the effects of what he had to assume was some kind of date rape drug. Someone must have slipped it into his drink while he was watching the fight- and he had a feeling that they’d missed their intended target. You.

He wasn’t exactly thankful that he had been drugged, but at the time, he was thankful that it was him and not you.

He wasn’t sure which drug it was. Sure, he was a dealer, but not for this. His general knowledge suggested that it was probably roofies thanks to the sudden and bitter taste in his drink, but his general knowledge also reminded him that roofies didn’t work this fast. He’d taken one sip, and within seconds he was seeing symptoms. That wasn’t normal. None of this was.

It scared him, honestly, and it should have. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He didn’t know what was going on in his own body. He didn’t know what was in his system. And on top of that, he couldn’t protect you from whoever did this. He was too out of it- too dizzy, too drowsy. The world around him was too fuzzy for him to do much more than get the two of you out of there.

“It’s probably just roofies, but, uh- we need to go,” his words were slurred slightly, but you understood him just fine. As you pulled him from the bar and towards the exit, one thought lingered in his blurred, distorted mind.

The person who had done this to him was probably targeting you.

That thought scared him more than anything else that night- more than the drugs in his system and more than the unknowns that circled his head. It was sweet that he worried too much- but in a way, it was also a waste. It wasn’t like he would remember any of this the next day.

But he didn’t know that. He was just focused on getting out of the bar with you. He put all of his effort into walking normally, trying to make the process easier, taking as much of the burden as he could off of your shoulders.

He wasn’t great at that. It was nice that he tried, but he almost fell into you completely, swearing under his breath as you moved to support his weight. You did your best to avoid getting blood on him, but it was a difficult process considering the blood was coming from your hand. The two of you swayed slightly, entirely unsteady as you moved back through the bar, making your escape.

And you almost did it. You almost escaped. You were just a few feet from the door when someone stepped in your way, blocking your path.

You recognized him. Eddie was too out of it at that point to register the man’s face, but you knew him. He was one of the men who was fighting earlier- the one left in the bar. Oddly enough, there was no bruising on his face. There was no blood, no damage- just a sharp grin cutting across his cheeks. The man had a beautiful smile, you had to admit- beautiful and off-putting.

“Need some help there?” he offered, reaching out a hand. On the surface, it was a kind gesture, but something in your gut told you to run. The scent of metal was stronger around this man.

“I think we’ll be fine, thanks,” you tried to keep your face neutral, all the while gritting your teeth.

“No, no, I insist.”

“So do I,” you growled, clutching Eddie’s body tighter to you, “We’ll be fine. Thanks.”

The man’s smile grew wider. You tried to step around him, but he walked, again, into your path. When you turned to take another route, you almost walked into another man. You recognized him, too, as the man who had started the fight. He must have made his way back into the bar, but you barely registered that. You were distracted by the grin on his face, just as sharp and intimidating as the smile on the other man.

You tried again, in vain, to bypass this man, but you found yourself walking into someone else’s body. You looked up to find yourself encircled by strangers, all of them with sharp, cutting smiles. You were surrounded. Your stomach dropped.

“Come on, let us help,” the first man said, taking Eddie from your grasp by force.

“Hey! Stop-!” you called out after him, trying to keep up with his lengthy steps.

“Stop! Let him go, you asshole-” you raised your fists, pounding on the man’s back, trying to get him to stop. You failed. What’s more, your effort was cut short by another two men grabbing your arms and pulling you towards the exit.

You struggled in their grasp, not really caring if you made a scene. You writhed, screamed, and fought, but you made no impact on your situation. Somehow, none of the bystanders even seemed to notice.

To be fair, you almost didn’t notice when the men pulled you into the brisk night and behind the bar. It was a dimly lit space. Night had fallen, and clouds covered the moon. That left two lights attached to the building to cast the space in a sickly yellow light. You were almost glad that they did such a shitty job.

What you could see of the concrete behind the bar was covered in odd stains. Two dumpsters were covered in a similar substance. Each of them reeked with the smell of rot- in fact, the whole area did. Flies buzzed nearby, humming an elegy in tune with the dull static sound of the wall lights.

Before your surroundings could make you spiral any further, Eddie’s voice hit your ears. He groaned out your name, breaking your heart into a million little pieces. You did your best to keep your eyes on him despite the situation, and the horror around you. You had to focus on his limp frame, his arms twisted behind his back in a cruel, unforgiving hold by the man from the bar.

Seeing him hurt just made you fight harder. You snapped at your captors, spitting and biting, snarling like a feral beast. You screamed, too, begging them to let him go, begging any passers-by for help. No one came. No one helpful, anyway.

In the midst of your frenzied fighting, a figure emerged from the shadows. Its eyes were white pinpricks in the dark, gazing at you, eating you alive even at a distance. Your body froze when you finally noticed it standing there. It took a few steps into the light, and a chill ran through you. He was just a normal man. A little older than you, relatively handsome, and with a grin as sharp as any other. You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t recognize him from the bar. But something told you that he knew you, that he’d been waiting here, for you.

You wanted to keep fighting. You wanted to break from your captors’ hold, grab Eddie, and escape. You didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you stood, trapped as the Stranger advanced on you. You watched him with wide, terrified eyes as he took your injured hand in his. He examined the wound, inhaling the blood that stained your skin.

“I told you they’d be a catch, didn’t I?” he finally spoke in a deep voice that chilled your blood.

“Mhmm, but are they really worth the hassle?” one of your captors spoke up, “They’re rather intent on causing a scene- and extensive damage to my face.…”

“You deserved it,” you barked, a bit of fight returning to your bones.

The shadow-drenched Stranger seemed to like that response, “See? They’re a fighter. They’ll last longer than the others, and when they do break, well-” he dug his fingers into the wound on your palm, drawing a scream from your lips, “It’ll be more fun for us, won’t it?”

His hungry eyes met yours as he brought his blood-soaked digits to his mouth. Again, you found yourself frozen, like a deer trapped in headlights, watching as he licked the red from his fingers.

“Oh,” the Stranger purred, leaning closer to you, “They’re delicious.”

The Stranger’s smile grew wider as he turned his attention to your throat. He took his time drawing closer to you, casually taking hold of you in place of your captors. You strained against his grip, but your efforts were futile. His strength was inhuman- his grip on you left bruises that would never truly go away. It finally dawned on you that this was not a man that held you like he wanted to destroy you- this was a monster that wanted to toy with you until you breathed your last.

And in that moment, you understood. You were his prey. You were a rabbit between the teeth of a predator. A deer staring down a fucking bus. You were going to die- and things were only going to get worse from there.

The Stranger grabbed your face and pulled you in, teeth bared. He was mere seconds away from piercing the thin flesh of your throat when the sound of a scuffle broke his concentration.

“Let them go, you bastard-”

Eddie. He was up and struggling, fighting against the man holding him despite the drugs coursing through his veins. Your heart screamed in your chest, desperate for him to help you- and for you to help him. But there was nothing you could do.

“Did you hear me? Let. Them. Go,” his voice trembled, and his words slurred together, but it didn’t matter. He was fighting and he was doing it for you.

It was incredibly stupid. It was incredibly brave. It spared you for a moment, but it cost you both in the long run, and that didn’t matter in the end, because fuck, you loved him.

The Stranger also loved Eddie, but he loved him for a much different, much more entertainment-based reason.

“Ohhh, isn’t this cute?” The Stranger released you, throwing you back to the other men. His eyes set upon his newest fascination with an unsettling joy engraved within them.

He grabbed Eddie by the chin, forcing your friend to meet his gaze. The Stranger studied him for a moment, taking in the honey brown eyes that you were so fond of before he placed both of his hands on Eddie’s face, almost cradling it. His grasp almost looked gentle. From experience, you could tell that it was anything but. It would only take a jerk of the Stranger's hands to end the boy you loved- and you were powerless to do anything about it.

A sob escaped you as you thrashed, helplessly. Eddie was drugged and defenceless, and you couldn’t help him. You couldn’t see his face, but you could practically feel the panic burning through him.

“Don’t cry, little one,” the Stranger said, casting a glance at you over his shoulder, “Don’t waste your tears on this fucking failure.”

“Fuck off-” you hissed, but the Stranger paid you no mind. Instead, he turned his gaze back to Eddie, tilting his head and humming a bit. The world fell silent for a few moments as dread built in your chest. Fear grew inside of you, eating away at your soul like a parasite.

“It’s kind of sweet, you know? How much he cares for you. How much he wants to protect you. Oh, he’s going to be so much fun.”

“Stop!! Leave him alone!” you begged, “Please, don’t hurt him!”

“Don’t worry, little one,” the smirk on the Stranger’s face could not be described as anything but malicious. His eyes glinted in the low light, and as he spared you another glance, your heart dropped to your stomach, “I’ll leave most of the hurting to you.”

Before you could process what that truly meant, the Stranger tilted Eddie’s head back and drove his fingers into your friend’s temples. You watched, petrified, as the light faded from his eyes. He stopped struggling. His limbs fell to his sides as he went limp in the Stranger’s hold. You could barely hear the apology that fell from Eddie’s lips- a small, pitiful “I’m sorry,” that was undoubtedly meant for you.

A milky white sheen covered his eyes before they slid shut entirely. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The Stranger let Eddie’s body fall to the floor. Everything stilled. The world fell silent.

You screamed.

The sound echoed through the parking lot. Your pain and anguish bounced off of the brick walls of the bar, and the stained concrete below. You strained against your captors, praying for some secret strength to help you free yourself and get to your friend.

But there was nothing. You were trapped. And you were certain that Eddie was dead.

“Will you shut up?” one of the men growled.

“Master, I really think this one is more trouble than they’re worth-”

“Let’s cut the crap and slit their throat. It’s not like we really need another servant,” another of the men entangled a hand in your hair, pulling him towards you by the roots. He used the leverage to pull your head back, exposing your neck to the men around you, “Especially this one will be so fun to break.”

You felt hands on your wrists and on your waist. It felt as if a thousand men had suddenly gathered, manifesting from the shadows to tear you apart. No matter how hard you thrashed, you couldn’t shake them off. A sharp pinch hit your neck- teeth. Fangs threatened your flesh, digging in, moments from drawing blood.

They were going to eat you. You were going to die, and all you could think about was the life leaving Eddie’s eyes.

“Enough,” the Stranger’s voice rang in your ears, blocking out the sound of your screams. His footsteps filled your mind as he approached you, stepping away from Eddie’s body, “Have patience. You’ll have your turn to drink as long as we stick to the plan.”

He stopped in front of you and held out a hand, “Give them to me.”

Without another thought, you were thrown into his arms. You weren’t sure whether you should be relieved, or afraid. Before you could make up your mind on that one, the Stranger took your injured hand in his. His hungry eyes bore into yours as he ran his tongue over the wound.

The second your blood hit his tongue, he shifted, slightly. His eyes sharpened, glinting in the low light like an animal’s as if he had a tapetum lucidum of his own. His teeth grew slightly in length and in sharpness. You already knew that this man wasn’t human, but now you could see it. And looking just behind him, you could see that every other man surrounding you was the exact same type of creature that he was. They were monsters, all of them.

You whimpered, wounding your pride slightly. Still, you found it in yourself to ask, “What did you do to him?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, sweet one.”

A shaky breath filled your lungs. In your last moments, with your last breaths, you asked another question- one that you already knew the answer to, “What are you?”

He didn’t answer. Before you could understand what was happening, you were knocked back. The Stranger held you in midair against his chest, between him and the ground. As he set his teeth against your pulse point, your eyes fell to Eddie. His crumpled form lay where the Stranger had left him. His eyes were shut. He looked dead.

Despite the imminent death, you couldn’t help but wonder- what would happen to him after these monsters were done with you? After they followed their plan and ate you, would they kill him? Would they do to him what they were doing to you?

Tears spilled down your cheeks even before you felt the Stranger tearing into your throat.

He made no effort to show mercy. His jaw clamped down on you, tearing through flesh and vein until he was satisfied. Your body burnt with pain so violent that you could not help the tears that fell from your eyes. Your vision blurred and tunnelled. Everything around you turned grey as your hands began to shake. The rest of your body began to convulse.

Each and every sensation you felt intensified tenfold. You could feel the beating of your heart in your chest, the pulling of your muscles, and the grating of your bones against your flesh.

It was fucking sickening.

You heard a sound. A scream, a broken plea, faint but full of fear- the cry of a dying thing. For a moment, you thought it was something in the woods, a deer or a rabbit caught screaming as something big tore it apart. It took you a minute to register that the sound came from you.

Other sets of teeth pierced your skin as the rest of the men joined in on the murder. Someone’s lips lapped at your wounded hand, and someone else’s fangs carved into your thigh. You could feel the smiles on their faces as they ate you alive. Time seemed to slow down as they ripped you open and drank you to death. A sickening lightness took your mind as you recognized what was to come.

With even your desperation drained, you succumbed to your fate. The fight in you was gone. The last thing your human eyes saw was Eddie. The pain crescendoed, and the world went dark. You were dead. Your life was over.

But that wasn’t the end, was it?

No. No, it was not. You were dead, yes, but then you noticed that you could still feel everything. All of the pain, the anguish, the panic- it was still there, running through your body, eating away at what was left of you.

In the haze of sightless experiences, you could feel something pressing against your lips- something hard, dripping with what had to be blood. The taste of metal flooded your mouth as a thick, hot liquid rushed in. You could feel it coursing down your throat, changing you as it went. As you drank, you grew stronger. Whatever it was that they had given you, it brought you back from the abyss. The pain lessened. Your senses sharpened. And everything felt wrong.

Your teeth were too long for your mouth. You could smell the ichor that stained the ground beneath you, and what was undoubtedly the scent of corpses radiating from the dumpster. The buzzing of the flies and of the dim yellow lights screamed in your ears, creating a cacophony of sounds that you could not escape from. You could feel your blood, hot and steaming, dripping down your cold flesh where your assailants had decided to waste it.

And what a waste it was.

From the outside of the building, you could hear the heartbeats of every single patron of the bar. You could smell their sweat and practically taste their flesh. And you were so hungry- suddenly, the trickle of dark plasma down your throat wasn’t enough. You needed more.

With new inhuman strength, you gripped the thing against your mouth and sunk your claws and teeth deeper inside. You drank from it, hungrily, viciously, like an animal drinking in the viscera of its kill. You could hear a laugh, feel the limb, an arm, twitch between your jaws, but you didn’t fucking care. The new hunger that gripped you was vast and relentless- you couldn’t get enough.

You were still clinging to the arm when the Stranger pulled you away by the back of your neck. It was his other arm that you’d been tearing apart, but he didn’t seem to mind. Another of those nasty cold smiles was plastered across his face, and there was almost a sort of pride in his eyes when he looked at you.

“That’s it, sweet one, that’s it,” he cooed, “You’re thirsty, aren’t you?”

You didn’t want to give him a response. Instead, you strained against his hold, trying to bite his arm again. He was bleeding- dark liquid dripped down his fingers, beckoning you to taste it. And yes, his blood was weird. It was bitter, and it wasn’t completely satisfying, but fuck, did you want more of it.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” his smile widened, “Well, I can tell you where to get more. Do you want more?”

Your gaze broke from his arm, snapping to his face. You were desperate, so fucking desperate, inhumanly and monstrously desperate.

The Stranger seemed to know this. His eyes glinted with malice and excitement. He knew that he had power over you. He knew what was coming next, and he loved that you didn’t. He rose up slowly, keeping his eyes on your quivering frame, and with a flourish, he gestured to Eddie.

“Drink up, sweet thing.”

…

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

And yes, you were conflicted. Yes, you wanted to eat Eddie Munson, your longtime friend and overall protector- the man you’d loved since you knew what love was, but for obvious reasons, you also did not want to do that.

And yet, despite that, you found yourself crawling towards him, eyes set on his body like a hungry animal stalking fresh meat. In many ways, you were.

When you reached him, you took a moment just to stare. He still looked sick- an after-effect from whatever the Stranger had done to him. Somehow, though, he managed to look beautiful. He was angelic, even in this filthy hell. You brought a hand up to trace his jaw. Your fingertips traced over his porcelain skin until they hovered over his neck, setting themselves atop his pulse point. For a moment, you thought you felt a heartbeat; slow and faint, but present.

You told yourself you were imagining things.

He was gone, you knew that, and the knowledge burned you. It cursed you, inside and out. Loss weighed heavy in your heart, calling you to make bad decisions and do things you’d regret. Why worry about tomorrow when your world had just ended?

But something stopped you- something deep inside you- the little rational part of your brain that still remained- screamed for you to control your impulses. And you did. Dead or otherwise, you wouldn’t be eating Eddie Munson.

Instead, you leaned down, bringing yourself closer to his throat. Your lips hovered over his pulse point, but you didn’t bite down into his sweet skin. Instead, you placed a short, gentle kiss on his neck- a soft goodbye.

Then, with a final look at the boy you loved, you stood. Your body shook terribly. Your vision swam, and the world seemed to shift underneath you. Despite all of this, you managed, and you stood tall and proud as you faced down the Stranger and his monsters. Blood-soaked and broken, you did your best to look confident and unafraid. You were a fool for what you were about to do. You did it anyway.

It was time to be brave.

“I can’t do it.”

“Oh, why? Because you love him?” the Stranger mocked you. You refused to react.

You remained silent.

A sickening smile spread across the Stranger’s face, “Ah, humans. So simple. Don’t worry, darling. We’ll fix you.”

With a flick of his hand, the Stranger ordered one of his monsters to come and investigate your claims. You watched as the man moved forward, his hungry eyes fixed on you and on Eddie. Before he could get too close, you darted forward with speed that surprised you. You greeted him with a solid punch to the face.

Your assailant hit the ground, clutching his face with a hand. You had done that. You had knocked him down. You hadn’t been able to knock any of these monsters off of you before, but now… Your new strength was a definite surprise, but a welcome one to be sure.

Another few blood-suckers were sent your way. You punched the first one in the stomach, sending him back to the ground. Another fist flew towards your face, but you managed to dodge it, grabbing the wrist of the thing that attacked you. You threw the man away from you and caught the fist of the next man. For all intents and purposes, you were winning.

And then that ended. A knee met your chest, knocking the wind out of you and sending you stumbling towards the concrete. A boot collided with your ribs, followed by several more blows. You could do nothing but curl in on yourself, trying to protect the more fragile parts of your body. You could practically feel the bruises forming, though your skin remained unblemished.

The beating continued for a few more minutes. You could do nothing but lie there and take it. You were already weakened- what could you do to fight back?

“Enough,” you could feel the Stranger’s voice in your bones, “Get them up.”

Hands gripped your arms and pulled you up from the floor. Another hand gripped under your chin, forcing you to gaze up at the man who’d caused all this suffering.

He stalked towards you. For once, his face was expressionless. He looked you up and down, taking in your weakened form. An awful grin took over his face as he reached out to stroke your cheek.

“Like I said, fun to break. Let’s be off, now. There’s still much to do before the sunrise.”

And, unfortunately, there was- and it never seemed to stop. For a year you were kept as a prisoner, a thrall to the thing that turned you. You witnessed horror after horror, and you did what you needed to survive. You bided your time, though, and eventually, you gathered your courage and your cunning, and you tore the Stranger- your vampiric master- limb from fucking limb.

You drank him, consuming his foul blood until there was nothing left. It felt good, freeing, to see the fear on his face. It brought you indescribable joy to watch the light drain from his eyes. And when, finally, your killer lay dead before you,

After that, you found yourself relatively lost. You’d lived the last monstrous year of your life dependent on the Stranger and his coven. With them dead at your hand, you weren’t sure exactly how to live in the modern world as a creature of the night.

Your former master’s bank account was a good first step.

Yeah, it turns out that decades, possibly centuries of murder can turn a bit of a profit. Between general theft and contract killings, the Stranger definitely wasn’t hungry for money. He was just hungry for blood- and now, he wasn’t hungry for anything. Just dirt, if you had to guess.

Anyway.

You donated a solid portion of the money to various charities. It was blood money in the purest, most literal way, and keeping it would only weigh you down.

With the rest of it, you bought the bar you’d been turned at. A surprising number of the staff had been dangerous monsters in one way or another. You quickly corrected that. The staff you had now were much less monstrous- they were a safer crowd, human or otherwise. They also had a solid benefits package, so that was nice.

You had also purchased yourself a home near Hawkins. You weren’t directly in the town- no, you were easing yourself into returning. For one thing, people would have questions for you. It wasn’t every day that a young adult for a year before reappearing miraculously and with assloads of money in the bank.

For another thing, the memories of your human life stung you. It hurt you to think back, to think of everyone you left behind. To think of Eddie, whose death still weighed heavy in your heart, and whose absence left a deep ache inside of you. It was almost nice, the agony that he left behind. It was just nice to know that you could still feel hurt, emotionally or otherwise.

So, that’s where you ended up. One year later, at the same bar, your bar, watching patrons mill about, dancing and drinking. Your eyes fell back, again and again, to the couple- the one in the leather and the one in the battle jacket.

They were leaning against the bar, drinking together, all loving smiles and adoring stares. You embraced the stab of pain the image sent to your heart.

Taking a sip of your drink, you continued to watch as the one in leather stood and headed for the bathroom, eyes distracted as she seemed to sulk away. Your eyes turned, then, to the one in the battle jacket. You were glad you did. It meant that you got to watch him shatter the illusion that he was anything like Eddie.

You watched, eyes widening, as the man slipped a pill into his date’s drink. He looked around, his own eyes wide, looking to see if anyone had noticed him. Of course, he didn’t see you. He sat back down, shaking his hands out and pretending he’d done nothing wrong.

You knew better.

You knew you would be eating tonight.

You turned to the bartender- another monster with a story similar to yours, and placed your hand on the bar between you, “Jen, we’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“I know,” she said, leaning towards you, “Should I-?”

You nodded, adding, “We might need a car, as well.”

“On it, boss,” Jen gave you a mock salute before she turned to face the battle jacket-wearing animal. She leaned over the counter with a wide grin and asked if she could get him another drink. He accepted with a wide, lusty grin. Pig.

You turned your attention back to the washroom, waiting for the leather-clad girl to re-enter the room. You saw her before her date did, and as she made her way to him, you stepped into her path.

“Hey there,” you said, voice low, “I just thought you should know- your date slipped something into your drink.”

A thousand emotions showed on her face- shock, anger, fear.

“That shithead, I- I don’t know how I’m gonna get home. He drove me here, I-”

“Don’t worry, cupcake. Ask the bartender in the black to call you a car,” you pointed to another bartender- not Jen, who was busy dealing with the pig.

“I- I don’t know if I have enough,” the poor thing was starting to tear up. A pang of sympathy ran through you, and you revelled in the emotion for a moment, clinging to the small fragment of humanity you had left.

“Like I said, don’t worry. The bar will cover it for you, no charge.”

“I- are you sure?”

“Of course, dear.”

“I-” her relief turned to suspicion, “Why would you do that?”

You shrugged, pulling a smile onto your face to hide the memories that crossed your mind, “It’s important to us that our patrons make it home safe. Go on now.”

You bowed, slightly, as you made a rather grand gesture in the direction of the bartender. The girl turned away from you slowly as if she was hesitant to stray from the modicum of safety you provided. You didn’t blame her. The world you lived in was a dangerous place.

The girl’s asshole date would learn that very soon.

As she reached safety, your eyes fell from her frame and slid towards the situation unfolding between Jen and the battle-jacket date. She had him now, hook line and sinker. It was almost comical the way he stumbled after her as she led him through a back door. You followed, pausing for a moment at the door.

Outside was the back parking lot where you and Eddie had died. The lighting was still shit, but you’d gotten the place cleaned since you came to own it. The buzzing of the flies wasn’t nearly as loud as it had once been. It was almost a pity, really, that the pathetic attempted date-rapist wouldn’t feel the fear you felt that night.

Oh well.

You could hear music playing from inside the bar: ‘The Chain.” Fleetwood Mac. Perhaps it was an odd choice for a metal bar, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was familiar, and it had so many memories tied to it. Besides, how could you come to mind anything when there was such a meal in front of your face?

Your steps fell in time with the music as you stood next to Jen, taking in a very confused man who’d just been thrown to the ground. The man at your feet was a predator to be sure; one used to getting his way and hurting whoever he felt like in the process. In that moment though, he was prey. He was a rabbit staring into the vast, waiting jaws of a much bigger, much scarier creature. Those jaws smiled, opened, and bit down.

Blood always had a different taste. The Stranger’s blood was bitter, like the drugs he used as a weapon. Your blood tasted sweet and a little spicy, like cinnamon, sugar, and cloves. This man’s blood tasted like the beer he’d been sipping inside your bar. It wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had, but it would do for your needs.

Your teeth split flesh and broke veins, and you drank down the warm liquid that spilled out. Beneath your hands, the bastard battle-jacket boy was freaking out, losing his absolute shit. You were pretty sure that he didn’t think his night would end like this.

Of course, you didn’t give a shit. You were much stronger now, so his struggling didn’t affect you that much, and his begging was met by an explanation from Jen on how exactly he’d ended up in this position. You tuned it all out, focusing instead on the blood in your mouth as the song played out.

The man fell limp in your hands, but it mattered so very little. You were too busy pulling your head away, savouring the bliss that fresh blood brought you.

Now, you didn’t kill the man. Killing people usually caused more problems than it was worth. There would be a police investigation, and you would have to cover it up, and that his poor date would probably end up with survivor’s guilt of some kind even though she didn’t deserve it. So, no, you didn’t kill him.

Instead, you shared his blood with your more monstrous employees and then left him, unconscious, in a ditch by the side of the road. Someone would find him. Eventually.

For you, though, it was time to call it a night. You returned to the bar to find your lovely staff closing up. After checking in with the bartenders (and ensuring that the leather-clad lass made it home okay) you sent everyone off for the night, ensuring them that you would be fine cleaning up on your own. With nods and smiles, everyone was on their way.

It was a strange feeling to be in the bar when it was empty. The place held so much pain in its walls that you could practically hear the screams if you were quiet for long enough. The suffering was palpable here, in the mirror behind the bar, and in each and every table and chair. Hopefully, under your control, things would change.

For the moment, though, you decided that music would cover up the screams well enough- like patching up walls with Mud (which is, very much, a real product you can patch walls with.) With a bit of a flourish, you turned the bar’s sound system back on. Broom in hand, you swayed around, cleaning to a very familiar song and successfully keeping the memories away.

#this is so fucking loooong :')#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #x reader #stranger things x reader #pay attention to the warnings #if you'd like me to add anything to the tags lmk #eddie munson x you

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