Local internet cryptid rumored to be in their 30's, geeky, and a fan of banana chips.
Iāll be using this blog as a vault for my art, writing, and general creative tendencies. There will be a mix of original and fanart, embroidery, you name it.
Itās been brought to my attention that I am bad about posting WHOOPS. This is a finished piece of my d&d character highlighting important aspects of her character arc.
You know, it would be pretty interesting if we saw a Hawkins that was brought up to speed on the Upside Down situation. Disbelief, new panic, new conspiracy theories, people being divided on what to do with the Hawkins group, ect.
Would Vecna just be the devil re-imagined, and El and the rest of the super kids deemed as superheroes? Or agents of the devil?
Would there be a mass exodus trying to get out of Hawkins, would people lose hope feeling like rats in a cage?
āThe government/military is trying to take care of usā vs ādonāt trust that shitā. What would the parents feel, knowing what their kids had been going through?
Everyone knows that nobody ever dies in Hawkins--they just go missing.Ā
Itās the townās most well known secret. Sure, the obituaries still get printed in the local paper, usually a sob story about how nan was ninety-eight years too young. And sure, funeral notices were still passed around the steepled churches like it was currency in showing how much they cared.
Weāre so sorry for your loss.
Our heart goes out to you.
Youāre in our prayers.
The churches were for services, potlucks, weddings, meetings--but never funerals. The last funeral to be held in Hawkins, actually in the city limits, was in 1966.Ā
Eddie exhaled, a lungful of smoke escaping into the moonless sky. He dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel.
It was all such bullshit.Ā
The door to the trailer swung open in a blur of red plaid. āSeriously dude? How long does a smoke break take?ā
Of course, Garethās impatience only encouraged him. Eddie grinned, taking achingly slow steps towards the trailer, throwing his entire body into each footfall. āIāmā¦goingā¦.as fastā¦.as I canā¦.ā
Gareth groaned, running a hand down his face as two other boys chuckled behind him: Jeff and Grant. āGod, why do I even bother?ā
Jeff clapped a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head in sympathy. āYouād think youād learn after a couple of years, butā¦youāll get there eventually. Probably.ā
āCome on Eddie, I donāt want to be the first person to die of boredom in twenty years!ā Margret shoved them all aside, paying the boys no mind as they all dropped down the steps on each otherās heels.
āWell, Iām not one to keep a lady waiting.ā Eddie threw his head back with a cackle, quickly speeding past his remaining friends.
Everyone knows that nobody ever dies in Hawkins, and Eddie?
I forget I can just yell into the void on here/talk at nothing, and not necessarily have something to show so HERE ARE SOME AU'S THAT HAVE BEEN LIVING IN MY BRAIN:
Season 2 is my favorite season of Stranger Things, and I adore Kali and her group. I've enjoyed the punk!Steve au's a lot, and I wanted to have my own spin on it.
Steve as a lab kid--started as a normal kid, got kidnapped by the gov (as you do), escaped with Kali. He remembers what "normalcy" looks like.
Thing is, the punk persona? A uniform, like Eddie's. Armor. He's punk to fit in (how un-punk, I know), to feel like one of Kali's group. But he's really...still a polo wearing jock inside.
Instead of having Steve go on a growth journey where he bucks authority, becomes punk, I like the idea of him not ascribing to any group, but more, be who Steve is. In this, it happens to be a polo wearing jock.
(In this AU steve doesn't have bad parents, so much as...naive parents. His mom is cool, at least. I have a lot more to say BUT HERE, HAVE A THOUGHT.)
I don't super love how this one came out, but that's okay--they're not always going to be bangers. I just means I have to draw my favorite lesbian again :)
Man, I'm bad at posting. I'm still doing art, writing, the whole shebang! Trying a new handle for my "professional" (read: not shippy fanart or p0rn lmao) art, so expect to see the 'Thread4Thought' watermark more.
I drew an updated token of my fellow d&d mateās character token. Iām not sure if I posted the original token here, but Iām really pleased at my progress. Iāve definitely gotten more comfortable with digital.
He remembered the day he buried his parents. Mother was first, buried with yellow daisies and marigolds so sheād never have another blue day. Their father stood stone faced with a stiff upper lip--he mourned her pauperās grave, instead the seat that now sat empty at the table.
When it came time to bother their father, neither he nor Al shed a tear. There were no flowers or kind words--instead they left a deck of cards and an empty PBR--it was the only thing the old man understood.
Grief was a complicated thing, the love and the pain wrapped up in one like thorns to a rose, unable to exist without one another.
But it was one thing for a child to bury a parent--death comes for all. No parent bears a child, expecting to bury them.
And Wayne?
He didnāt even have a body to bury.
The phone rang; he had half a mind to leave it off the hook. Heād heard enough bullshit about his nephew while he breathed much lessā¦ after. Now.
But he made a promise, and the only thing Wayne had left was his word. So he hobbled off the ground on aching knees with a rag in hand, away from the latest bit of graffiti to tag the trailer.
He snatched the phone off the cradle, ready to slam it right back down, when a robotic voice caused him to still.
ā...All calls are logged and recorded and may be listened to by a member of Prison staff. If you do not wish to accept this call, please hang up now.ā
More ringing, and then finally: āIs it true, what the papers are sayinā? Ed really kill that girl?ā
Heād recognize that voice anywhere.
āThat aināt ever been Eddie, and you know it, Al.ā Wayne grit his teeth--his brother was a glorified sperm donor; he had no right to claim fatherhood in any capacity. Eddie was Wayneās through and through. He may not of held him when he was born, but he held him through every scraped knee and broken heart, and dammit, if that wasnāt parenthood what was the fucking point?
āYeahā¦yeah, I know it. Heās never been much of a fighter.ā A heavy silence crackled over the line, precious seconds ticking by. ā...Say, do you think theyāll come callinā for an interview from his old man? Iām sure thereās a pretty penny in it for--ā
Wayne slammed the receiver down. And then again. And again.
Al didnāt know. He didnāt know that about Eddie and the empty grave. He didnāt know--
The black lacquer of an acoustic guitar caught his eye, leaned against the door like it had been set down but for a moment, itās owner just around the corner.
He picked the instrument up with trembling hands. Eddie had fixed the old girl up, restringing her and polishing her until she gleamed. Wayne may have had her first, but she only really belonged to Eddie.
Callous fingers plucked at the strings, plucking at an unsung song. Nothing would come, and soon his vision blurred and hands shook too much to hold the guitar any longer.
He set her down back into her gentle reverie, like a casket into the earth, and hung his head and cried.
