#and i know ill cry in front of her while she is in the process of doing it

[sturniolo04]

Scared Prank C.S.

Bf!Chris x Gf!Fem!Reader

Summary; in which Chris pranks Nessa.

Chris' POV: my girlfriend Nessa is currently at me and my brothers shared house and one thing about my girlfriend is she is extremely scared of everything just about. So me being the amazing boyfriend I am decided to scare her. Me and my brothers were currently in our living room when Nessa came upstairs from my room finally waking up from her nap

Matt: good morning sleepyhead

he joked as Chris made his way over to his girlfriend hugging her

Chris; how'd you sleep

she just hummed in satisfaction

Nick: i assume that means really good

he states walking past the couple into the kitchen.

Nick: Laura texted me saying we have to be at the warehouse for some meeting are yall ready to go

Chris: yeah let me grab my shoes

he responded attempting to leave his girlfriend's grasp

Nessa: noooo

Chris: Nessa i have to go ill be back

he states confidently knowing they werent leaving at all since he told his brothers about the prank he was pulling

Nessa: no

she simply stated jumping up into his arms his proceeds to catch her and carry her with him back downstairs into his room to grab his shoes

Chris: Nessa come on time to get down

he stated again to his girlfriend rubbing her back with one hand while holidng his shoes in the other

Nessa: fine

she sighs out as he sets her back on her feet

Nick: will you be okay be yourself for an hour

he asks walking downstairs the the front door with Chris and Matt following him

Nessa: i think so

she replys as she watches them walk out the front door

Nessa's POV: its so weird being in the house without them its oddly quiet which was nice but weird just because they are always loud and doing something when they are here. i was scrolling on my phone, when i heard the front door open and close. I just assumed one of them forgot something so i walked out of Chris' room to see who is was

Nessa: what did you guys forget-

she asks loudly halting when she approaches the front door to see a person in all grey sweatsuit with a grey ski mask covering his face

Nessa: um who are you

she proceeded to ask getting no response. Internally freaking out she had no idea what to do she left her phone in Chris' room so she could call him.. she slowly backed away.

Nessa: i dont know who you are go away

she stated again not really knowing what to say and began to make a run back to Chris' room with the intruder chasing after her

Nessa: NO STOP GO AWAY

she exclaims  crying holding Chris' door closed but ultimately failing to keep it that way because he was way stronger than her. she gave up and ran into her boyfriends closet after grabbing her phone calling Chris.

Chris: why are calling me babe

he asks innocently opening his closet door to find his girlfriend sitting on his closet floor with tears in her eyes looking up at him

Nessa; Chris what the fuck

she exclaims running her hands through her hair and resting her head on her knees in the process

Chris: im just messing with you

Nessa: you were at a meeting you just left- you really scared me dumbass

she exclaims standing up wiping her face from the escaping tears; coming out of his closet walking past and away from him upset

Chris: im sorry..

he trails off as he watches her walk away from him

Chris: Ness nooo

he exclaims catching up to her grabbing her waist and pulling her back into him nuzzling his face in her neck

Nessa: no stop you're so fucking annoying

Nick: so i take it shes upset

Matt: i would be

Nessa; you guys knew

Nick: well yeah how else was Chris going to make it believable

Nessa; unbelievable get off of me chris seriously

Chris: no im sorry i love you

he states again finally turning her around to face him and kiss her

Nick; get a room gross

Chris: forgive me

Nessa: dont ever fucking do that again

Chris: cant make any promises

he giggles out as he hugs his girlfriend again

Taglist

@adirtylittleheart

[grapejuicestyless]

No One Wants To Die In The End.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: United through grief, Harry and Y/n have to navigate the same fates they witnessed as young children as understanding adults. After all, no one wants to die in the end, we can only hope death comes easy for us.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

I hear my mother ask in a hushed tone, the nurse who came to send my grandma away giving her a tight lipped smile.

I sit on the bed pretending not to be able to hear them, pretending the sound of my grandma choking on her own saliva is normal and the staggering of her breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while I tell her all about what I learned in fourth grade.

She doesn’t remember me, not much anyway. Ever since the illness started taking pieces of her brain, I’ve been stuck in time. She only knows my name now, and my mom warned me on the way here today not to cry if she couldn’t even remember that. It was her illness forgetting, not my beloved grandma.

Mom says she loved me with all my heart, and that once the illness passes through her, she’ll remember me again fondly. I’ll get to tell her all about my life and growing up and she’ll understand what I’m talking about. She won’t give me the blank stare she does now while I hold her hand, and her skin won’t be so frail.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.” The nurse says, and though my mom doesn’t cry, I can see her skin hugging her throat constricting it and the soft fluttering of her wet eyelashes.

My mom pulled me away soon after, telling me to say goodbye. This time felt different though, even at age nine I knew that. So I told my grandma I’d be back, even if I wasn’t sure just because it always made her smile, and I promised to keep dancing around in my pajamas before breakfast like she loved.

That day at school, the one after I left my grandma with hundreds of promises to live freely and trust with my heart, I found my mother sat out on the front steps by our old white porch with her head in my hands.

“Hi mama. Can I go to Megans?” I had asked her cheerfully, excited about seeing my best friend, my neighbor and my sister.

Mom had this sad look in her eyes, one that told me to come close without her having to say it. And as I stood between her bent knees and felt her hands on my hips, I saw her shake her head.

“Y/n/n, grandma didn’t make it, baby.” She declared softly, and at the time I didn’t know how to process it, the idea of someone being gone forever. As mom told me how she had only left for a minute to go home and shower and came back to my grandma unresponsive in her sleep, I didn’t think about the fact that my grandma’s laugh would fade with the years, but rather how sad it was that she had to go alone. I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

I didn’t tell mom this, my feelings on the death of grandma, the death of her mom, so I did what I knew how to do best, and I ran, begging softer this time to be able to go across the street just until dinner.

When I got there, I was greeted by Megan, and she looked sad. That’s how most people in my life seemed to look these past few hours, ever since the way my grandma breathed changed.

She pulled me into a hug and cried on my shoulder, promising to be there for me always, that it would get better. At the time I didn’t get it, why my best friend as a child would feel so much grief for a woman she barely knew, how she could feel so much more than I did, but grief hits differently in every person, I wished that someday I’d be able to process it openly instead of suppressing it somewhere I’d never find it. I wished that someday I’d learn how to cry.

Grandma didn’t get a funeral, they stuffed her ashes into a pretty vase with golden birds and her favorite flowers and held the wake early in the morning. Most of her friends I’d never met. It was a small service, a slow one. I spent most of my time playing hide and seek with my cousins and stealing the mints the funeral home left out for guests while my mother cried shaking each guests hand.

“How should we send out the letters?” My mom whispered to my father quietly, like it was something she didn’t want her children to know about.

“What’s the difference? Word spreads fast about people like him.”

People like him, that’s how my dad worded it. People like him, veterans who fought in a war they couldn’t even remember by the end of their lives and refused to replace the old wood paneling on their living room walls from the eighties.

My grandpa was the definition of people like him, he had lived enough lives to grow in white hairs by fourteen years old. Fighting alongside Elvis in the war and dancing with his dying wife in the afternoon.

I never met grandma, my dad said cancer took her before I was born, he says that’s why my name is the way it is, she picked it. But, I did meet grandpa.

He had white hair and a soft stomach from all the Swedish meatballs he made in his spare time. War does funny things like that to a man, make someone so against cooking love the simplicity of it, the safety of food consuming him.

I never really liked his Swedish meatballs, I didn’t like how he made them without sauce, when I was ten my world revolved around marinara sauce.

When I was twelve years old, I remember missing the softness of my grandpas stomach when he hugged me and the lingering smell of Swedish meatballs in his kitchen at dinner time. Which was weird because I never liked it before, but maybe my nose had changed while grandpa was changing in his own ways.

Cancer seemed to run in the family, something that was so small nobody ever suspected it was invading their bodies until the doctors became frantic to get it out.

My grandpa has bright white hair before his treatment, and small silver glasses perches on his swollen nose while he sat in his old brown chair and watched his grandkids school plays through the CD’s my parents would send him.

What a lonely life to live as he got older. The death of his wife and the absence of his grandchildren as they became less and less interested in family time and more focused on running outside freely with their friends.

I was so sidetracked I didn’t even know when grandpa died right away. Not until my father sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch where I laid with my mother rubbing his back slowly, a heavy look on his wrinkled face.

“Grandpa passed last night, Harry. He loved you very much.”

I didn’t cry as my father spoke, simply nodding before walking to my room to toy with my baseball cards and gameboy. I didn’t cry thinking about his passing, which confused me because I was twelve. I understood what death meant and how there was no one who had the power to reverse it, but I felt incapable of crying.

I went to school the next morning like my parents hadn’t told me the news, and my history teacher pulled me out into the hall during second period. He looked sad for me, his hands on my shoulders as he told me he would give me all the time I needed, not to try snd jump back into normalcy during such a tough time.

It made me feel embarrassed, which felt weird considering the context. I felt fine, completely indifferent to something I should have been breaking down over. But I guess grief is weird like that, and I wish I had the strength to be weak.

Grandpa had a big funeral, open casket with formal attire. He didn’t look like grandpa with all that makeup on him. I wanted to open his eyelids to see the colors in his eyes one last time. But that’s unacceptable to do, so I simply kneeled by the casket and prayed for him.

A big black limo took us from the boiling hot church to the graveyard where uniformed men loaded their guns and fired at the sky in honor of my grandpa. The smoke smelled like the low tide at the beach, and some people I’d never seen before sobbed a few rows behind me.

A lot of people showed up for grandpa, veterans from around the country and school friends from when he still had all his youth. Looking around at the crowd, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

“When did you find out?” Harry asked softly, his large hand capturing mine in a paw-like grip over my knuckles.

I swallowed, wondering when I suspected it in comparison to when I finally got the guts to ask someone for help.

“I’ve known for a while, probably since I was nine. It runs in the family, you know? All these health issues that eat away at our brains?” I laughed, but neither of us found it funny, not when I ran my fingers through my hair to calm down and chunks cane out between my knuckles.

“I just thought I’d be gifted more time, thought biology would be kinder to my bones.”

Harry looks at me with a broken stare, one that hits me in the heart. We both tear up, but neither of us cry. We are our parents, we are the spitting image of them sitting us down to break the news. But at least they went peacefully, right? I know no peace, but still I don’t cry for myself, I feel too pathetic to even try.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, looking bitterly at the youthful green eyes in front of me, how his curly hair seems even more vibrant than nearly a decade ago. He ages backwards and I am already one foot out of the door.

Harry shakes his head.

“You did everything right.” He tells me, fingers pulling the hair from my hands to hide it behind his back.

“Then why do I feel like I have?”

“Nobody wants to die in the end, Y/n/n. It’s a game of chance, each day we live we gamble on how long we have left. Some people search for that end and others stumble on it accidentally, it’s just the chances.”

When he puts it like that, it makes me feel even worse, knowing how quickly I’ll be gone. How I’ve failed my future children I’ll never get to have, my husband who would have loved me I’m sure, and my poor old dog who waits by the food bowl only to find it empty each day I’m gone.

“I don’t like these chances.” I laugh with tears in my eyes, hands holding onto his as our forehead touch, my best friend holding me like no one ever has, not even Megan, who had long grownup into a woman I barely knew, a friend who drifted from me when we were thirteen and cried to her mother about how she missed me when she was sixteen.

Megan held me when my grandma died that day when I was nine, and I was confused as to why she was so sad, but with Harry holding me now, I understand it all better.

“I’m only twenty nine, Harry. At least my grandmothers dementia took away the intense pain of remembering what she was leaving behind.”

“And she lived not knowing who her daughter was for the rest of her life. She must have been so alone.”

I look down at my lap, my palms still pressed against his.

“I’d never forget you, even if my memory starts to go. I’ll never forget you because you’re too important to forget.” Harry smiles when I say that, pulling his hands away from mine to tap his chest quietly.

“And I’d never forget you, even when I’m old and crazy. I’ll keep photos of us on my walls and talk to them when I get bored.” He promised me, the dull light from the sun making the once lavish room feel less like a clean living room and more like a cold hospital.

As the months pass, my hair has been traded for one of Harry’s favorite hats. My shirts switched out for backless gowns with blue dots on the paper like material. My arms are not decorated with the same ink as Harry, but wires and tubes that come from the table beside my hospital bed.

I am twenty nine, but I must look about sixty now with how tired I am from simply trying to steal back the life that was ripped from me unfairly.

And as I fight to keep up with the beeping of the monitors hooked up beside me, I feel my throat rejecting my saliva and my sick coughs stuck behind my teeth.

I heat the same cracking sounds that my grandmother made when I was nine, and I feel relaxed knowing now that it doesn’t hurt to breathe this way, not right now anyway.

And in the silence I can hear an echo of my mother’s words from outside my door, her feminine voice exchanged for the deep one I’d grown rather fond of.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

Harry asks in a hushed tone, the nurse different but her answer just the same.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.”

It’s happening again, the spirit leaving my bones to join everyone I’ve ever loved before, my father and my grandma. My mother and my old cousins. I only wished I didn’t have to leave Harry behind, I wished I could dance with him in our college dorms just one more time like we used to, and set fire to the box mac and cheese just one last time.

I remember everything about Harry, the nurse warning that my image of him might waver as my blood begins to slow under the skin. She tells him not to worry when my skin gets cold, it’s natural for people to cool down as their heart gives out.

Harry comes in and holds my hand, pretending the sound of my breathing doesn’t bother him and the sound of me choking on my own saliva is normal and the staggering of my breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while he swears to every single higher power he can think of that I’ll be okay.

And I believe him.

Because while he holds my hand in death, he’s fulfilled the one wish I prayed so hard for a a kid. The one selfish wish I made for myself in a time of need.

When I was nine, standing between my mothers legs with my nails between my teeth I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

And here Harry was nearly two decades later, holding my hand and promising serenity in the afterlife.

What he doesn’t know is that I am one of the lucky ones. Even after my heart has stopped, I am given one last gift as an apology for such a short life. I am given an extra second of my brain living on, the soft cries of “I love you’s” from Harry the last thing I hear as my dying gasp is cut short from my death rattle breathing.

I have a small service, Harry and some college friends standing in line shaking the hands of the few guests who walk by to look at my body. My nephews and nieces place hide and seek with each other until the ceremony was over, mints stuffed deep in their pockets as they filed out of the funeral home like nothing had happened.

Being famous is weird, especially after a loved one has passed.

We send out prayers to the families of those affected, the media says, but how has the death of this person affected Harry? How has Y/n’s slipping away crushed him beyond belief? Will he dedicate his next album to her?

They don’t care about Y/n, they only care about how she makes a good headline for their companies, and it makes me sick to think about. How they profit off of my grief while I try to stop memorizing the sound of her broken sigh as she went.

I wonder if I was enough for her during her final days. If my touch was enough to cure her for just a brief second.

It’s no wonder I turned to move-on pills. Ones that lift me up and break me down further until I am face up on the bathroom floor we once shared, my eyes wide as I choke on my breathing and count how many times the lights multiply as I look up to the sky.

It’s not a shock that the headlines are out by the end of the day, the sirens enough to alert all of Hollywood of my dying dreams and my perfect execution.

My family stands in a line while they put my casket into the hearse, makeup on my face like they put on my grandpa, I dan barely recognize myself as I watch the funeral service from another space.

And as they bury me under the ground, the media announces their grief and well wishes to all that attended and the millions watching from their televisions.

As a kid, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

But now that it’s happening, I only care for one thing, I only asked for one thing in the letter I left behind. Lay me beside my best friend, so I can keep holding her hand through death, and we can laugh in the afterlife like we did when we were healthy, happy, and together.

[ieatsmallorphansnamedtom]

Headcanon of how well each of the bachelors would do if the farmer suddenly passed away of an illness (+ having left with kid/s a bonus)

(maybe even putting them in order who would handle it best to the worst)

Bachelor/ettes When the Farmer Passes Away (+ Leaving a Child)

Hi! Thank you for the request. I decided not to do them from handling it best to worst, because I couldn't really order it and it felt weird. My writing is a little rusty hehe.

TW: Death, grieving, spiritual crisis, self-blame

Bachelors:

Sam

Definitely the type to try and cover it up with smiles. Like everyone else, he breaks down the moment it happens (I'm not going to elaborate on how it happened for the sake of the viewer). Still, he tries to act all smiley and happy afterwards for the sake of the kid(s). But it never quite reaches his eyes, and everyone can tell he wouldn't recover that easily.

Elliott

Elliott throws himself into his writing like no tomorrow. He barely speaks to anyone except his kid at this point - not even Leah! He's putting all his time and energy into making sure his child can recover from this, not caring if he's ruining himself and actually getting further from it due to that in the process.

Sebastian

I don't know how to word this other than Sebastian's emo levels rise 1050%. He goes full on stereotypical, but he's not being ironic. He's straight up in desperate need of help but he refuses it, and the kid suffers as a result, which just makes him worse. Chances of his kid going to live with someone else are pretty high.

Harvey

Like Elliott, Harvey would throw himself into his work if that were to happen. He'd be completely focused on making sure nobody else has to go through that, no matter what happens to him in the process. He still talks to people, though. He wants to make it seem like he's got his life together so that hopefully it actually works out.

Shane

Oh boy. Oh, oh no. Oh Yoba not Shane. He's suffering. Absolutely gone off the deep end, very little hope (though there's always some hope). Yeah, he's going to spiral after this. The kid goes to live with Marnie or another relative because he just can't handle it. He either sells off the farm or goes to live back with Marnie because he's just destroying himself at this point. Not good.

Alex

Alex is also not doing well. At all. Though he's not at the level of Sebastian or Shane (as in he keeps the kid), that confident personality is gone. I mean, it's a front anyway, but still! He's so sad all the time and really seems to think there is no hope for him. He still puts up a front around his kid, though. But definitely cries himself to sleep.

Bachelorettes:

Penny

I don't even want to write this; Penny doesn't deserve this. She's devastated. Penny cannot handle what's going on and really just starts crying all the time. She can't even look at her kid because it reminds her of you and makes her cry even more. It's terrible to watch.

Leah

Leah's probably doing the best out of all of them. But that's not to say she isn't suffering. She paints to let out her emotions, and signs herself and her kid up for therapy. Her shitty ex Kel also comes back to haunt her, wanting to take advantage of her situation to get her back.

Abigail

Abigail gets a lot angrier. She's always in the mines swinging her sword at monsters and barely comes home. She's not even doing it for fun, just to take her anger out on something. And she's a lot snappier with people, too. She gets into fights with her friends and family and sometimes even her kid. Yeah, it really doesn't make her the best mother she could be otherwise.

Maru

Maru immediately signs herself up for therapy. She does all the things that should help - gardening to relax and remember, mediation, working on her passions - but nothing helps. It's even worse when she sees her kid slowly getting better because of them while she's not. She hides it all though under a thick layer of moderate sadness.

Emily

Emily has a spiritual crisis. She's always believed in soulmates, so why should hers be ripped away so soon. Why would Yoba do that to her? What in the world? Was she not worthy? Did she do something horribly wrong? Why would this happen to her of all people? What about her child? What will happen to them now that this has happened to her?

Haley

Haley has one of two paths she can choose. Path one; she reverts back to her Regina persona and becomes mean again. Or two; she becomes super quiet and actually pretty soft but very, very reserved because she's holding onto what she learned from the farmer - their lesson of kindness. Either way, though, she's super protective of her kid. Like a helicopter parent.

-~-~-

Remember that you can overcome anything! You are loved, and you deserve love. Keep that message in your heart.

[ladysophiebeckett]

having watched betty finding out the truth five different times fm different versions and skim watching them at different times, it's interesting to see the acting\directing styles.

you can tell when there's appreciation for the original work and when there's apprehension.

'jassi jaissi koi nahin' (india) uses the same dramatic music ysblf used. or it uses some cues but in a different note. 'not born beautiful' (russia) is, to this day, the most faithful adaptation. there's appreciation in accepting the story as is and not making any outrageous changes. 'yo soy bea' (spain) makes a lot of changes but those changes come from the production's knowledge that they're not gonna be as iconic as the original--they know they're not gonna hit the same marks. So a lot of the narrative decisions come down to doing the opposite of what the original did. It's apprehensive in that way, but they commit to those narrative choices and you accept it as an audience member.

the mexican adaptation is rebellious. it's wants to be a comedy. it wants to be dramatic. there is no rhyme or reason to its editing. it wants so badly to one up the original it's based on, not understanding that the original was made with a lot personal touches. the other adaptations mentioned above all have personal touches that ground its audience and you believe everything that's happening.

i could go on forever about overall directing styles of the same thing, but i really want to talk about is The Scene--Betty Finds Out The Truth.

in ysblf, Betty takes her time reading the letter and reacting to it. from a slight happiness bc she sees the gifts and that gradual change as she's reading the letter and you see her entire world fall apart. but it happens slowly. there's an incredulousness to it bc she's been living out a dream and we audience have known the entire time that it was based on a lie. her tears are silent, she's in shock. we suffer with her bc we have to see her process it.

Katya (NBB) and Jassi (JJKN) have similar reactions despite editing styles of these programs being different. both go from ecstatic to slow dread. it takes them time to believe and process what's happening bc its supposed to be a shock to their system.

For Bea (YSB) its completely different bc she doesn't find out fm a letter and is therefore exempt from this, however it should be noted that she goes catatonic and becomes ill at the shock of it all.

Moving on, Lety (lfmb), tho the circumstances of how she finds out are...different (a psychic tells her to find the letter)--her reaction to it is too much, too soon. I'm not saying Angelica Vale is a bad actress bc she's not. But her acting choices plus the direction she received, is less about Lety the character and more selling Vale as a dramatic actress.

It feels like there's a secret motive to it.

Because why does Lety immediately believe the letter? And then starts crying like she's gonna die? There's no emotional build up. Even the staging of it feels unnatural. Lety goes from standing, sobbing to sitting on the floor in front of Fernando's desk to standing up again and going back the chair. All the while violently crying, shaking, yelling. And no one hears this?

It's sad, but we don't see Lety's world collapse the way we see it in other versions. It's like Lety already suspected it and the letter confirms it. She's been ready to cry and scream about it. And this is after the honeymoon filler with Fernando ends. She was happy that morning. The revelation should have confused her.

Not that this didn't pay off, Vale won an award for her work on this. But these creative choices, in hindsight, look like they're serving someone else and not the story you're trying to tell. TBH, a lot of the creative decisions that are made in Lfmb, often feel like Lety The Character, is the one being sacrificed. When it's supposed to be her story.

I know it seems like I'm getting on lfmb's case again, and I am, but it comes from a place of frustration bc every time I analyze something about it, I realize how self serving it is to the people involved in it's production and how the actual story they're adapting gets secondary importance.

There are great scenes in lfmb that hit, but they're overshadowed by everyone and everything else. Lety finding out the truth should have been about Lety, not Angelica Vale's ability to cry on cue.

[silentcrowsilentravens]

Hello. I've been thinking about the daughters + Donna being ordered to kill the reader by MM but ending up finding themselves unable to go through with it.

I'm also thinking about this now.

Decided to leave the endings open :P

Donna Beneviento, Bela Dimitrescu, Cassandra Dimitrescu, and Daniela Dimitrescu being ordered to kill the reader by Mother Miranda, but finding themselves unable to go through with it.

(Gender ambiguous).

Warnings: attempted murder.

Masterlists here!

Donna Beneviento

Donna's grip on the knife is unsteady.

You would probably wake up if she weren't shrouded in one of her illusions. You would hear her ragged, uneven breathing and poorly muffled crying.

Donna doesn't want you to see her. She doesn't want you to know that it's her.

This is undoubtedly the most difficult thing she has ever been made to do.

This will not be the first time she has taken a life. There have been those who ventured too far onto her property with ill intent.

Then, there were times when Mother Miranda pressured her into conducting Cadou experiments.

There was the gardener. He was first. It was an accident. One that still haunts Donna.

After her parents passed, he practically raised her. He was all she had.

She killed him.

And now, she's going to kill you. Because if she doesn't, Mother Miranda will. Miranda will draw it all out and make you suffer.

Donna will make it quick. You'll never even see it coming. This will simply be a sleep you never wake from.

She stands at your bedside, weapon at the ready. She can't put this off any longer.

You look so peaceful.

...She can't bring herself to move.

She can't do this. Donna has watched too many loved ones be put in the ground before their time. She isn't going to let you be one of them.

Suddenly, her illusion breaks.

The knife drops to the floor with an audible clatter.

The sound causes you to stir, and your sleep-addled brain slowly begins to process the sound of loud sobbing.

"...Donna...?"

You find her on her knees, folded in on herself with her palms flat on the hardwood.

"Hey... what happened? What's wrong?" You're beside her in an instant.

Donna grabs onto the front of your shirt and pulls you closer to her, burying her face against you. You can feel your collar quickly growing wet.

"I-I'm sorry! I can't—I c-can't do it!"

You tentatively wrap your arms around her. "Can't what? What are you talking about?"

"I-I—Mother Miranda, she wishes you d-dead... and she wants it done by m-my hand..."

You can feel your stomach drop. It is only now that you notice the knife on the floor.

"But I c-can't—I can't bring myself to go th-through with it... Please forgive m-me..."

"Donna..." You can't find any words. Your brain has yet to even fully process all of this.

Suddenly, she pulls away from you and looks you in the eye.

"Listen, if y-you love me as I do you... then you will leave and never return."

Bela Dimitrescu

Bela does not disobey. When something is expected of her, she does it without question.

So, of course, when Bela learns that the Mother Miranda has something to demand of her, she fully prepares to carry out whatever this thing is.

But then the order leaves Mother Miranda's lips.

Do it, she tells her. Or I will.

For a short while, Bela carries on as if nothing happened during that meeting. As if she doesn't have the weight of this task now resting upon her shoulders.

There shouldn't be any weight, shouldn't be a pit growing in her stomach as time goes on. Killing has been something that's always been natural to her. She's slaughtered many, and she's found it easy. She's found it fun.

However, this is different. Because you mean something to Bela.

You know, it's funny, she never thought she would get so close to a human. In the beginning, when she began to grow fond of you but still kept you at arm's length, it was because she was afraid of something like this happening.

She's had nightmares about things like this.

She has to go through with it, though. She doesn't have a choice.

When Bela decides to get it over with before this eats at her any longer, before Mother Miranda does it for her and you're worse off for it, she finds you out in the courtyard. She ignores the harsh bite of the approaching winter as she walks up behind you.

For far too long, she stands there, unmoving.

You must eventually sense her presence because you turn around and jump slightly. "Hey. You scared me."

"My apologies," she says softly.

"It's a bit too cold for you to be out here, isn't it?"

"I'm fine."

Concern immediately overtakes your features. "I can see you shivering, Bela. Go bundle up if you want to be here! I don't want you to catch your death out here—"

Bela lets her hand fall from the handle of her sickle, the last of the resolve she built crumbling.

She can't. She cares for you too much.

She speaks your name, cutting you off. "...I need to speak to you about something important. Let's head somewhere more private."

Cassandra Dimitrescu

You know something is... off well before the incident. Cassandra seems like she's trying to avoid you, and when you are around her, she acts cold and distant.

It's frustrating. You haven't the faintest idea what triggered this switch in her and she won't tell you. You plead and beg her to just talk to you. Even if she wants you to piss off, can't she just say that instead of keeping quiet and staring past you with this unreadable expression on her face? It hurts.

It hurts and Cassandra knows that it does.

She seldom feels guilt, but this eats at her despite the fact that she doesn't stop.

This is necessary. All of this is necessary.

If Cassandra doesn't do this, then Mother Miranda will and you'll be even worse off.

If she doesn't pull away, then she can't do this at all. Cassandra has never had to work up the nerve to kill someone before. Half the time, she hardly even thinks about it before she goes through with it. Often, she draws the process out. But, by the Black God, Cassandra is struggling to find it in her to kill you.

It will be easier if she breaks the bond you've spent building with her first, right?

When the day comes, she seems to have all but vanished from the castle.

That is until she's pushing you into a room and shutting the door behind her.

You stumble a bit but catch yourself. "Cassandra?" you utter in confusion.

You can't see her eyes. Her head is ducked down and her hood is casting most of her face in shadow. No words leave her lips. At this point, you don't know why you expected any different.

Slowly, she begins to close the distance between you, wrapping her hand around the handle of her sickle.

"...Cass? What are you doing?" Your back hits a wall. "Cassie?"

Cassandra stops just a foot short of you, finally pulling her weapon from its sheath.

And suddenly, you find it in yourself to laugh. It is quite possibly the most strained and shakiest laugh you have ever uttered, but it leaves you regardless. "I guess I'm right, then."

Shut up, Cassandra thinks. Stop talking. This is already hard enough.

"You've finally gotten bored with me, huh?"

"No."

Your gaze darts from the sickle up to her face.

"No," Cassandra repeats. "I told you I would never."

She'll make this as quick and painless for you as she can. In a flash, she raises her sickle and swings it at you.

You brace yourself.

She...

The tip of the blade strikes the stone beside your head.

She...

Ugh!

"Damn you." A tear slips down Cassandra's cheek. "Damn you and what you've done to me!"

She waves her weapon towards the door.

"Leave."

You don't move.

"Leave! Do you hear me? Get out of here! If I ever see your face around this village again, I won't let you leave alive!"

Daniela Dimitrescu

Daniela has always been brazen with her affection for you. There's no doubt about that. She always goes out of her way to ensure you know how much she loves you.

However, you feel as though Daniela has been extra affectionate lately.

As in, you're starting to suspect that something is going on.

You've brought your concerns up to her more than once, but received similar answers every time that all sum up to this: Nothing is wrong. Why would something be wrong? Daniela just loves to love you!

Okay, you think. You're worrying over nothing.

(If something was wrong, Daniela would probably just tell you, anyway. She usually does. She doesn't like to keep her feelings inward).

But one day, as you're passing by her room, you hear crying.

You stop and knock on the door. "Dani? You alright?"

You can hear her sniffle before she goes quiet for a moment.

You aren't supposed to know. You're supposed to be dead, but Daniela keeps putting it off.

She decided that she wanted to make your remaining days as pleasant as she could, but all the time she's been spending with you has just made this task feel even more difficult.

Briefly, a thought passes through the back of Daniela's head. She could take you by surprise here and now. She could.

She has to. She needs to do this before it's too late.

"...Daniela?"

She eyes the blade sitting on her bedside table.

She slowly reaches for it...

Then lets her hand drop back onto the bed.

"No," she finally says, her voice cracking. "I'm not."

"Can I come in?"

"...Yes."

The moment you open the door and cross the threshold, Daniela practically launches herself at you. If the doorframe wasn't there to catch you, you would've fully toppled over. Her hold is a tad bit crushing.

"I'm sorry," she sobs into the fabric of your shirt, "I'm such an awful girlfriend."

"No, you're not. What are you talking about?"

"I am! I've been lying to you!"

[englishboylover]

(rosekiller raising child, one-shot)

"Get up already, it's already been fucking 8 am." Barty said as he was hustling Evan roughly, he was trying to wake him up since 6 am and clearly he wasn't successful enough.

"Ssshh, let us sleep! And no fucking swearing in front of her." Evan murmured in his sleep, he had no intentions of getting up.

"Babe, us?" Barty was rubbing his temples. "She's not even sleeping, she's playing with you." he said lovingly whilst looking at her little body next to Evan's.

Evan woke up in instant and kissed her cheeks, "Are you now old enough to make fun of me little one?" and started tickling her.

"Daddy, stop! Dad, help me please." she was laughing so hard that she was barely talking.

Barty pushed himself next to Evan and joined them "You deserved it," said while laughing "but you both need to get up now. Come on Evan, she'll be late for school and we'll be late for work and-"

Evan kissed him, as usual. It was the only way to make Barty stop, he had the energy of talking for an eternity if he was given the chance. "Alright my babygirl, take Alyssa and have a breakfast and I'm going to get ready. I can take her to the school today."

"Are you not going to have breakfast?" Barty was obviously complaining, Evan was sure he prepared amazing food for three of them and had to make them eat it.

"Darling, like you said, I'm late. And my job requires discipline unlike yours." Evan said as he was getting dressed. Barty let out a laugh and took a comb to braid Alyssa's hair. She knew this process so she quickly sat down on his lap.

"Daddy is boring, isn't he? You're so lucky that you have me."

Alyssa turned to him immediately "Uncle Reg says you're both pathetic and he'll adopt me when he gets the chance."

"Oh yeah of course he says that, it's a classic Regulus behaviour." Barty said playfully as he continued braiding.

"That egoistic bastard." Evan said under his breath so Alyssa couldn't hear. She probably heard tho, but there was a bigger problem. "Hey, hey! My love, are you okay?" Evan sat quickly on his knees in front of them, soothingly caresses her cheeks.

"What's wrong with my little princess?" Barty was apparently worried which made everything worse and Alyssa started crying.

Barty and Evan both hugged her and didn't say anything until she was calm enough to talk. "Now, what happened?" Evan asked.

"Dad, is he really going to take me from you? I mean obviously I love uncle Reg but I don't want anyone else to be my parents." she was trying to wipe off her tears.

"Oh my goodness, of course not." Barty pressed her to his chest while caressing her hair "He's joking. Because you know, sometimes we annoy him and that's what close friends do. But he actually loves us so much, especially you. He would never do something to make you feel sorry."

"And we would never let anyone to take you from us. Not even Uncle Regulus," Evan and Alyssa both smiled to each other "You're the most important and precious girl in the whole world. Dad and I promise you that we will never leave you alone, alright?" Evan chose his words carefully, to make her comfortable as much as possible but he meant every word he said. No one even dares to touch her unless they want to be in a grave. Both Evan and Barty were trying so hard for her to not hear about the things they did, she must have grown up purely without witnessing the cruelness of the world and known them as her safe place. On the other hand, they would set the world on fire for her without thinking twice.

Because Evan was the one who she was looking for when she was scared, moody, ill etc. he was her hero while Barty was her best friend who made her laugh everytime. So Evan had to make sure he was convincing enough with his words.

"I'll actually call Reg today and tell him that you're only our baby, is that okay?" Barty was still laughing but he tried his best to stay serious.

"Okay!" Alyssa was finally happy again. They both relieved and kissed her cheeks smoothly.

(thank you for the idea! @chace-vito, I'll probably write more of this if any of you like, your ideas are important for me <3)

[acearohippo]

Really been emotionally driven by Lewis and Bonnie lately.

I don't know how young they were when they became espers, unsure if that one game trailer of Lewis in the boxing ring was his transformation (the dumbass) or if he "turned on" his power out of rage (still a dumbass, I hope his sister called him stupid) but I'm going to just err on the side that most young espers aren't transforming until they're in midteen range, like 14,15,16 years old and up. It's less common, but still occurs often to have espers between the ages of 11-13 but 10-ish and younger, you're rarely seeing the kids survive the transformation.

And I'm just bombarded with these ideas that Lewis and Bonnie are the average kind of kids, so they are living on the streets, without esper powers, up until Lewis gets his break when he's 15 and makes the decision to join the Esper Academy, because if he can get in that would gaurantee his sister shelter. Bonnie, of course, doesn't agree because they've both seen how the Union has "prioritised" neutralising the affects of the Miracles, putting money and time into weapons and other destructive researches, rather than gathering resources and supplies to help the people who without homes, without parents, and are ill. And Lewis agrees that he doesn't fully trust the place, but he's also had to rush back to their hideout to find his sister either missing or in the process of being harassed/kidnapped by known local traffikers, and Lewis himself has had issues with them too and it's gotten to risky and while he'll happily bash the face in of any paedo who dares touch them, he'd prefer it more if they grow up without fearing that they'd wake up, separated, in some strange, pervy adult's room. And that's just him and his sister, the both of them also intervene when other kids are endangered of trafficking, which has placed a big target on the both of them by the underground thugs and contractors who are "losing business".

At least this way, he could learn how to better control his powers and get a better idea of how the Union works on the inside, so he can then return and use his knowledge to help those the Union has forgotten about. At least this way, he won't have to waste precious time trying to create a plan to get him, his sister, and whoever kid they found out of harm's way quicker, without needing to leave anyone behind or wait until the perfect hour to launch a rescue (He still remembers how Bonnie clung to him, shaking and angrily crying, too many bruises and cuts on her malnourished body, her nails ripped and bleeding, shielded from the elements only by a disgusting blanket made even dirtier but the fresh blood from the whimpering, pantless man cowering in the corner. He was almost too late. He was almost too late.) He can go in swinging now, set the whole damn place and whoever gets in his way on fire now. But he lacks control and understanding how to activate his Esper powers, and that could lead to even worse mistakes.

Bonnie hates living in the orphanage. She doesn't trust the adults, can't with how she and Lewis grew up, and would frequently sneak out to find her brother at the academy. He never sent her back or turned her away, but she also wasn't an Esper so she couldn't join in on his classes. Not that any teachers could stop her, and once her brother became friends with Li Ling, there was really nothing anyone could say or do that would keep her from looking out for Lewis. He's a simpleminded man, often too caught up in what was right in front of him to notice the threat surrounding him (she still remembers the way the so called "nice couple" that hired the two of them for easy lawn work leared at her brother, tasking him with jobs that would keep him within their sight, the woman "innocently" groping his arms and stomach as she tuttered that he was too thin and gleefully feeding him pastries to "fatten him up", her husband personally "training" him with "hand's on" exercises and stretches. To this day, Lewis teases her about her immaturity and clinginess to him that eventually made him start choosing jobs they could do together, and she will gladly throw more tantrums and act like a spoiled little girl to keep manipulative people like them away from her brother.)

Of course Bonnie joined the shadow decree after she became an Esper. The Union is bound to fail her brother at some point, and with the freedom of the shadow decree on her side, she'll make sure to provide him a safety net when, inevitably, someone takes advantage of his honesty and loyalty.

[miheartsedthings]

I've had this idea running through my head for a long time now. Huge trigger warnings here - explicit and graphic descriptions of psychological/emotional abuse. I would COMPLETELY understand if you don't want to do this. Really. It's really overwhelming and just - just too much. Your well being is what matters the most. Ignore this if this makes you feel uncomfortable.

Billy and Reader are newly best friends, which means they're still shy around each other but are still very close if you know what I mean: shy and hesitant but sincere and strong embraces, kisses on the hand or cheek that make the other person blush like a tomato. To put it simply, their relationship is a slow burn.

So much for the context/background. Now, as for the plot, imagine this: reader has family problems too. Billy knows it because she subtly implied it and perhaps also because he saw the bruises, it's up to you for this part, in my head there isn't necessarily any physical abuse, mainly mental/psychological - like controlling EVERYTHING ("belongings", acquaintances, tone of voice, what emotions are appropriate and what are the ones that aren't, how you should feel, what you see, your reality) manipulating, gaslighting, humiliation, threatening with violence or worse punishment, insulting, name calling, yelling at someone for hours on end while knowing they get sensory overload and cannot process loud noises / overstimulation in general, emotionally abuse enough to trigger panic attacks in front of the parent and obviously they. just. keep. going. and don't stop until their voice is sore and need "to lay down because they got too stressed" because they genuinely (for real) almost got a seizure from all that yelling.

And then the next day them genuinely being the sweetest, nicest, most loving person on the planet. Genuinely worrying about your safety. Almost having a heart attack if you're 7 minutes late. Crying their eyes out if you're away from them for a day. Keeping you locked in at home, not even allowing you to stay on the porch. Not even allowing you to open the window and let air into your room. Controlling everything you do. Saying they want you to be an independent woman who doesn't rely on anyone and is confident in her abilities. Teaching you about the dangers of blindly following authority figures. Degrading, humiliating you in front of everyone for hours on end until you get panic attacks which encourages them further to keep going. if you try to voice your opinion. Used to punish you when you cried as a kid for years. Telling you out of the blue to cry it all out and genuinely offering to hold you. The next day trapping you in a corner and looking at you with absolute and utter disgust, yelling to call you the vilest shit (not gonna repeat what was said here, trust me you don't want that) for shedding a tear after an intense fight. Crying her eyes out if she finds out you feel like a burden. Reassuring you that she loves you and that you're the most adorable, the most amazing person on the planet, that she wishes she had 10 other kids like you. Genuinely forgetting about your siblings because all her eyes are on you. Abusing you and only you because you're the only one that deserves it, as sick as that sounds. Abusing you because you show symptoms of abuse.

You're both their Golden Child and their worst ennemy.

A confusing, highly clinical case of a mentally ill parent.

Even though Billy doesn't see any bruises, he still knows things aren't going well at home. He doesn't know the true extent of the abuse but he sees the self harm scars. The panic attacks. The permanent anxiety. The chronic fatigue. The dissociation. The high identity confusion due to the gaslighting. The crippling fear of feeling certain emotions because "it's forbidden" and the fear and genuine confusion over choosing something for herself - literally the same as El.

And one day it's just all too much. She missed the entirety of the school day. He is looking for her everywhere. But she keeps avoiding him. She's scared of having a relationship like adults do. Scared of having a friend. Scared of talking to someone. Scared of being independent. Remember. It's not allowed.

But Billy doesn't let go. He manages to make her talk. And then he reassures her the best he can and asks her to stay at his place for the night. He doesn't leave her a choice because he knows she wants it but a dissociated part of her screams no. Hell would break loose if anyone finds out about this. So he takes the initiative and takes her home. They spend the night cuddled up and - I don't know about the happy ending. I'll let you choose. 🤍

The abuse descriptions I gave above aren't meant to be written out as scenes. I genuinely don't think I could read that. They're just here so that you know what to make reader say to Billy when he asks her to talk to him about it. ❤️

Hey anon, I'd be happy to explore this topic, it's just gonna take a while. I'm still working through other requests and anytime I start a new piece it takes some time for me to get a sense of how I wanna handle it.

Surprisingly, there's a little bit of this subject matter coming up in my ongoing story.

Anyway, yes, I can honor this request, just please be patient with me. 😊💖

[monards]

(I've just had Normal thoughts brewing for so long with nowhere to spew them I've thought about rhinedottir Genshin impact a normal amount) but another Bedtime story my brain tells me is where Alice sets up a surprise reunion because Rhine at her core is a loving mother, but mental issues and abyssal corruption warped her to slowly become colder towards Albedo until she left him. BUT!!! months later she showed up in front of Alice crying because she just now processed she pushed her human son out of her life and (after being like "I know😐 I had to take that broken child in😐") Alice finds a way to bring them together again (usually my brain says it's set up as her coming to see Klee). Rhinedottir was going to play it cool and try to keep her emotions controlled while she apologized, but Albedo was so shocked to see her again that he calls her mom while crying. The last time he called her that was when he first learned to speak, so hearing it now just breaks her. It ends with both crying and hugging each other because they deserve some familial love

Anon. i fear to tell you. these are not normal thoughts (sitll love them though.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! as much as they've ruined my night and mad eme cry!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I always sort of imagined that Rhine was still pretty emotionally distant when khaneri'ah wasn't. gone. mostly because of how the culture there seemed to be,,, but thinking about this too…. the buildup would've been. insane. OUGHJSHHSIOO THIHIS IS KILLING ME. RHINEEEEEEEEEEE

I think it isn't acknowledged enough that Rhine DID seem to be good (at some point) at the beginning,, because as much as we can take into account the fact that most her kids don't perceive things normally; I doubt literally all of them (besides dorian. because he's a unique case. LMAO) would be so enamored with her as their mother/creator IF she hadn't been a loving mother at one point or another, or in atleast one aspect..,,, which is why she is most certainly fucked up after seeing half of those guys die. there's most certianly something, deep in her heart!!! you are so right!!!!!!!!!!! I appreciate the idea of Alice of all people being the one to facillitate it sooo mmuch,,,,, alice's character is built sosoo well on the idea of family and compassion... after chastising her for being a deadbeat mother,, i doubt she'd let the chance for her to plan this slip by (ESPECIALLY considering the fact albedo is so obviously keen on seeing her again) its just auguhhhhhh... they are such a little family and they make me ill.

Thisss would actually be. so fucked up in my head. because albedo would be the first of pretty much all her children who she'd see after sending out. Elynas, durin, even the unicorn who's mentioned once,, all just either died or vanished after Rhinedottir set them off (not including riftwolves bc those mfs were an accident.) ,,, imagine how bittersweet it'd be to see your last remaining son alive. and better than before. OUGH Albedo was taughtt sooo much about family and love in mondstadt,, and I swear I've made a post before on how he'd obviously realize at SOME point that rhine wasn't really completely horrible, as mean and strict as he was... annd oughhh him seeing her again... after so longn.... they hurt me. they both hurt me so much. I think. i think that if albedo called her mom I would tear in half. because the wayy hoyo keeps using the mother narrative in this game has already teared my emotional state to bits... and albedo calling the great sinnner..... gold... rhinedottir his mother. i'd throw up. everywhere. the most evil women on the planet but he's still her mother. OAUUGHHHHHHHHHHHH

i hope you know these asks are making me. so incredibly sick. I love them. THankyou.

[bunky-writes]

World Past Six

Chapter 1:

”The Incident ”

The first thing I recall before ‘The Incident’ is waking up, it was a sweaty and awful awakening. It'd been the most alarming heatwave yet and no matter how many fans we used, it was like satan's foul breath had been blown all over Sweden.

Most nights were spent in bed or in front of the TV with fans desperately attempting to blast the heat away. And when you're young and poor, that's pretty much all there was.

I'd spent my entire life so far assuming I'd be taking over the world by the time I was 25. Little did I know the whole world would be destroyed by bombs.

Although I still have 6 years left so who knows? Maybe I will be the man who decides the fate of the human race. Or maybe I'll become the diplomat between humans and a reformed reptilian race after I spend a few years living with a whole bunch of aliens.

No matter what, I'd still better be having fun because I've managed to live longer than a lot could.

Since the day I was born, I didn't like school, most likely because I was an art kid, too busy writing stories in my head, envisioning paintings, and so forth.

By age 10 I'd already seen many conflicts on the news so I knew the effects of war and was terrified of another World War. I worked hard to get good grades, attended the right kind of classes, and pretty much did everything I could to prepare myself for the future and yet still stay happy. This was even though by age 17, the world was on the brink of a third World War. I always figured that if I didn't become a professor then I would become a writer. And if I didn't become a writer then I would find some other profession where I’d write, maybe a journalist. So I spent my last 2 years at school studying, but before I knew it my mom fell ill, deathly ill.

I had to quit school to look after her. I had no idea what was wrong. I didn’t dare ask mom or dad about the illness. I just knew that I was supposed to take care of her while my dad worked. It was a lonesome reality and I still remember being so frightened because I knew what was coming. The knock on the door eventually came and my father broke the news to us. I remember nothing but wails and a strong embrace. I felt like I was in the way of doing what I needed to do, I was in the way of the peace that was supposed to be coming.

The worst part is, I was angry, so angry, that my dad’s new wife had ’replaced’ my mom. I was angry that my mom just left me, all of us, alone to deal with this tragedy. How could she? I was always so convinced that my mom and I were in this together and now I was alone.

After a couple of weeks, I stopped crying, though. I don't know if it was because my dad never cried or that I was in the process of dealing with so much. I don't know. My stepmom was nice, too nice, I felt nauseous from the guilt for wishing she'd been the one to die instead of my mom.

I didn't blame my dad for what happened to my mom, but I did blame his lack of reaction. He was just numb, and I feared that his apathetic demeanor would shatter if I spoke up about mom. I felt enraged and abandoned.

I moved in with my dad and his new wife. He was working long hours and so he didn't spend a lot of time with me. The only time he did was when he took me out to eat or watch a movie. If I was at home alone he would tell me to go to school or work but he never seemed to care that much in reality. He was a indifferent man and I was intimidated by him.

I think he wanted me to become a better person than he was. He probably wanted me to have a higher career and become a doctor, or something, and to avoid being a secretary or a clerk or even a fast food employee. But then one day he and his wife left to visit Colorado for vacation, and I went with them. But while they went to explore the state, I stayed in the BnB they had rented and played video games all day. And that was when the shit hit the fan.

It happened quickly. All of a sudden my phone was going off, bombarded by notifications from local news sources. Bombs had been launched, from both USA and Russia. A war had begun. The one that everyone thought would never happen. The one that everyone had been hoping to avoid.

Suddenly I was in an Uber, heading toward the nearest bunker.

I had a choice to make. Would I save my family? My friends? Would I sit this one out and accept the consequences? Or would I fight for the future of my country? And I knew that only one of those options was going to save my life.

There was nothing left for me to do but flee. I wasn't a trained soldier, sure my dad had shown me survival tips and a few self-defense moves, but that wouldn't help anyone. I knew my dad and friends alike would've wanted me to live, there was no reason for me to go on a suicide mission.

I don't know why but there's a hole in my memory between me getting into an Uber and a scene from my nightmares unfolding. The car stopped, and the driver slumped over, bloody. I stumbled out of the car, the streets were dripping red. Mangled bodies, unidentifiable.

My face was probably pale as if I'd aged ten years overnight. There was fire everywhere, and people screaming. My skin was bloody, but I wasn’t the one hurt. My hands were covered in red. Every ten minutes or so I would flinch, startled by a sound. Seconds would go by before I would be able to calm myself to remember to breathe. My mind went blank. I didn't know how long I'd been stumbling around, but I knew I'd had to hide. I wanted to run. I wanted to wake up from a bad dream. But the worst part was the burned doll, abandoned, in a broken stroller.

I was no longer the person I had been. Instead, I was a weak, vulnerable adolescent.

I was running down the street, my hands were trembling. A man in a military uniform screamed for people to get inside the bunker, he grasped my arm and threw me in. Suddenly the door closed with a bang, and then silence. But not for long, the ground shook with the power of an explosion. The door felt hot to the touch, practically burning.

I sat down on the floor, or more like toppled, and attempted to calm my nerves. I took deep breaths, over and over again. Eventually, I looked around at the people who were at the bunker’s entrance with me. I flinched when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw the face of a middle-aged man, his face bloody and scratched, his clothes torn. I jumped to my feet, my hands shaking.

"Stay calm, we're all going to get out of this," he said, patient and somewhat monotone.

He had a thick southern accent, it would not surprise me if he was a farmer, he certainly had the build for it. He was like a bear, broody and towering over me and he seemed grim and stoic. Although not dangerous, his hazel eyes seemed kind. His blonde hair slightly hid his graying strands, he was probably in his mid-40s.

Although he seemed kind enough, I couldn’t let my guard down yet, but I had to play along. I looked down at the ground and gave him a weak nod.

"I'm…-he coughed, clearly uncomfortable- sorry for what has happened to you."

I nodded again, then felt an ice-cold shiver down my spine.

"My dad... he, he didn't make it, did he?" I asked, putting my hand on my chest, already starting to feel the hidden wounds that would never fully heal.

He shook his head.

"I’m the only man old enough to be your dad here. Sorry, kid"

My sight darkened, disoriented, and lost. I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't see anything. Just a black mist filled my vision. I could taste bile in my mouth, ready to escape. I was drowning, everything was distant and blurry. My lungs crying out for air yet refused to take a breath if I moved the whole world would shatter, and I’d plunge into a black hole, to be forgotten. To no longer feel or think.

"Are you okay?"

I heard a feminine voice say behind me. But I didn’t dare to turn and see the pitiful look in their eyes.

I wanted to say something, scream that I was not fucking okay, anything to reveal that I wasn't fine. My last family member was no longer alive and there was likely not even a fucking body to recover. And the last thing I said was something as indifferent as a hummed ”goodbye”. My heart was screaming and wailing, but I couldn't find any strength. I couldn’t utter those words.

"Yeah," I whispered.

[local-ragamuffin]

The Year Between- Chapter 3

This is part 3 in an ongoing Castlevania fanfic I'm writing, in which a young girl ends up staying with Dracula in his castle during the year between Lisa's death and the start of Dracula's war on humanity. This story loosely follows the canon of the show, but mostly focuses on stuff we never got to see. I'm not a very confident writer, so feedback is always appreciated, as long as you're not rude about it.

Fic begins below.

Clang!

Metal striking against metal. The sound rang throughout the room, echoing down the halls.

Evelyn, whose curiosity had gotten the best of her, was wandering said halls when she heard the loud noise. What was it? Was someone making something? She had to know. She tiptoed toward the source of the noise, stopping in front of an open door. She peeked inside just as another clang sent sparks flying. It was Hector, the nice silver-haired man. He was hammering away at something.... or... someone? A body... What was he doing?

The forgemaster, sensing that he was being watched, turned his head to face the doorway. Evelyn quickly ducked out of sight. She didn't want to get in trouble for seeing something she wasn't supposed to see. What was he doing to that body? Why was he hammering it? Was it moving? So many questions, and she feared the answers to all of them.

Unfortunately for her, Hector had noticed her. His eyes softened and he smiled as he addressed her.

"It's alright, you can come in if you wish. It gets lonely during the day."

Evelyn slowly shuffled into the room, trying not to stare at the body on the table. It definitely twitched. She let out a small gasp and was about to run when Hector knelt down to speak to her.

"It won't hurt you. I promise. When it's finished, it will only act on my orders. You can even speak with it, if you'd like."

"It- it talks? What is it?" The child's voice was barely audible, as if she was afraid she would wake the thing on the table.

"It will in a moment, I think it needs a few more strikes... Stay right there while I finish up. I don't want the sparks landing on you."

Evelyn nodded silently as Hector stood back up and returned to the body on the table. He raised his hammer, and brought it down on the body with another loud clang! Clang! Clang!

The body on the table glowed, writhed as it was given life again. Its eyes shot open and it sat upright, facing its creator. Hector gently placed a hand on its cheek and smiled. He truly enjoyed his work. Sometimes it felt like his creations were the only beings who understood him, aside from Dracula.

The forgemaster whispered something to the monster and it got off of the table, slowly approaching the child... But upon seeing her start to cry, it reached out and placed a hand on her head. There was no malice or ill intent behind this interaction. The monster simply tousled the girl's hair in an attempt to comfort her.

"See? It won't harm you because I instructed it not to. This is what Master Dracula called me here for. To create soldiers for him. Not one of them will ever harm you. I swear it."

Evelyn just stared up at the creature with wide, watery eyes. She reached a hand to touch the creature's hand. It was cold, yet pulsing with new life. She felt herself slowly calming down as she processed Hector's words. She... didn't fully understand, but she was glad she wasn't in danger. Her gaze was now focused on the forgemaster.

"...Th- thank you..."

Hector smiled, relieved that Evelyn wasn't afraid of him after witnessing him at work. It was nice to not be feared or hated by another human for a change.

[kai-atlantis]

Wow. Okay. So I just finished chapter 11 of FY and I could've commented but I wanted to ask you instead. Apologies for anon. I am too shy. But, I really like how Holly was somewhat unlikable in the last chapters, like 9. It's something I don't see enough of, and I can see in your comments it caused a stir too. But then the way you handled her trauma at the end of 11 and how she recognizes her mistakes and feels sorry for them was really powerful. Did you intend for her to be like that? So good.

Hi hi hi! 🥺🥺👉🏼👈🏼 Thank youuu 🥺 I'm gonna cry lmao. ALSO GET OFF ANON WHY ARE YOU SHY THIS IS THE FOWLDOM HOW DARE-

AHHHH I'm really glad you brought this up, and thank you for doing so! I haven't talked about For You for a while.

From what I can remember, it was intentional, and when you get to Chap 12, you'll see it's kind of like Holly's main redeeming chapter for her behavior.

Even in canon, Holly is fucked up. She's an orphan with a loving memory of her family; She's constantly belittled and undermined at her job; Her father figure is blown to pieces in front of her, and she is blamed for his murder; Her (my HC) mother-figure/inspiring figure Vinyaya was ALSO killed in front of her; Holly herself was killed and felt every piece of it; and then she witnessed her best friend outwit her and take her place to then die in front of her eyes.

So, cut to my fanfic. Ch 1 we see tensions between Arty and Holly as friends, and we know from ch 1-4 (and Luna Minor story) that Holly and Artemis had some weird animosity while he's in space. Holly feels a lot of guilt for not being a 'better friend' and not being attentive or not taking Artemis' side on things. Cut to Ch 5, with that whole convo, she DEFINITELY feels responsible for him and his illness now. Tie in that Angeline has paid her to cure his mental illness. Tie in that he was just abandoned by his family, and Holly feels like, at this point, she's quite literally the root of all his trauma and issues (she also blames herself for his childhood trauma when he adventured with her). After Artemis' confession, Holly kinda breaks, but holds on strong, as we know her character to be.

This cracks her at the end of Ch 8. Obviously, Artemis and Holly are back to being tense and Holly loses Artemis as a friend and roommate. She has been taking care of him since 5, but no one has really taken care of her. Holly hasnt talked to anyone. She doesn't see a therapist. She carries alllll this burden, all of Artemis' burdens, herself. And when he leaves, she can't carry herself up anymore, so she crumbles.

She becomes destructive in 9. Mean and callous to Artemis (also jealous), cold and using Trouble, a total cunt to Lili, and of course this all blows over when she hates herself for her treatment of both Trouble and Lili and totally smashes Gronk Moss apart, not just in Lili's honor, but also Holly's outlet is to unleash all her bs on him. It kinda works, until she realizes in 11 that it didn't, and now with everyone and everything back in place, she can begin to recognize and process what she's done and said, her flaws, her mean side. It's all built up with no real outcome, and she folds under the pressure Angeline puts on her when she threatens she'll never see Artemis again unless she does exactly as Angeline says (Remember this for chapter 20 😬😬😬)

So, yeah! No idea if you'll read this all 😅 I went a lil off the wall.

BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH I FUCKING LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE ASK ABOUT MY FICS LIKE IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY SO THANK YOU 🥰🥰🥰💖

[verifiedaccount]

Barbara said that she had no grand story to tell. No wind of History, none of the political turmoil of the times, nothing illustrative of any social drama. Violence, yes, but the acceptable face of violence, the kind of banal cruelty enacted within the family. That was all she said. Her own story, enmeshed in this one, is probably no more than the ordinary story of a lonely, unloved child, a child who has been silenced, forced to submit to someone stronger than they are; the kind of sadness that it is not easy to get over–a commonplace story. That is the only reason Barbara made films. To soothe. To heal the pain, assuage the humiliation, process the fear. “Wanda’s character is based on my own life and on my character, and also on the way I understand other people’s lives. Everything comes from my own experience. Everything I do is me." Once, during an interview, Marguerite Duras lost her temper: “Self-portrait, I don’t understand what that means. Really, I don’t. How do you want me to describe myself? You know, knowledge is a difficult thing, something that would need to be reassessed, the knowledge of a person. Who are you? Go on, answer me… see?” Wanda never cries. Actually she does once, much later on, standing at the sink in a motel bathroom. She’s crying and keeps saying I can’t do this, I can’t do this. And perhaps one other time, too, but it’s difficult to tell; after that time in the darkened cinema when someone stole what little money she had: night has fallen, she walks into a bar and goes straight to the bathroom, she’s splashing her face with water for a long time, we don’t know if she is crying then. When I cry I overdo it, I am overwhelmed, incapable of holding back the tears, incapable even of dissembling. Tears are perhaps the only articulation, however monstrous, of the part of me that is completely shameless. Sometimes when I am alone I find myself howling silently in front of the mirror as if I wanted to verify a hypothesis. All I can see is a frozen mask of tears, the twisted mouth, its perfect symmetry contorted, its fine lines glistening, my breath in apnea, its silence brutally imprinted on damp skin, a voice asking who is there, beneath the deformed skin. I look. I search for my face in vain, for the one so familiar it looks like a stone.

In the months preceding her death, Barbara Loden consulted numerous doctors. One of them explained to her that her cancer came from the fact that she did not cry enough. He knew how to apply pressure on certain parts of her body to make her cry. She was devastated by the torrent of emotions that erupted like a sudden revelation, even if its meaning was enigmatic. Precious weeks were lost in useless weeping while the illness spread throughout her body. There are noble words, painstaking words that take time, sublime, fateful pronouncements proffered for eternity; there are simple and profound words; there are sluggish, erratic, deformed, incoherent words–but Barbara’s words, her last, are the only words that manage simultaneously to express both rejection and powerlessness in the face of death: no cliché, rude outburst, or tautology. As she lay dying all she said was, Shit, Shit, Shit, then she spat out some tiny stones–it’s the liver, the nurse said–and died. And no doubt one bright morning, a still and radiant day, she too had once stood like Clarissa Dalloway at eighteen, “musing among the vegetables,” full of hope on a glorious spring morning as she looked toward the sky, watching the birds swoop through the air, mistaking a brief moment of abundance for the promise of long-lasting happiness. We will never know the source of the wound that condemns Wanda to this loneliness. We will never know what ancient betrayal or long distant neglect plunged her into this state of constant and absolute distress. We will never know what loss, what absence she cannot get over. We accept her the way we accept ourselves, in blind ignorance, unable to put a name to the grief of existing. Her face, Wanda’s face, inscrutable, sad, obstinate. To the journalist who asked him one day, “What is the best early training for a writer?” Ernest Hemingway answered, “An unhappy childhood.” How he must have sniggered as he helped himself to another scotch.

Suite for Barbara Loden (tr. Natasha Lehrer & Cécile Menon)

Nathalie Léger

[themarcspector--moved]

SPELL A MUSE’S NAME IN MY ASK BOX AND I’LL TELL YOU…

name: martina roscoe verse: her w*tchblade au notes: vague because marta is vague requested for: myself

M: When’s the last time they talked to their mom?

The last time Marta talked to her mom was a week ago. She visited her mom at her museum job, and then ended up saving a bunch of kids' lives while there. She died in the process and came back with a bracelet she doesn’t remember wearing, but hey, it’s cute so it’s whatever — until the bracelet talks to her and gives her powers and all this other shit.

A: Who are their exes? Do they still keep in touch?

Marta has a few exes. She dates around, but her relationships don’t last long because her partners think she’s emotionally unavailable. That’s not true though. She is emotionally available, she just has a history with mental illness and doesn’t like to open up with new partners about it until later because she doesn’t think they’ll understand. The ones who keep in touch are the ones she opens up to, the ones who don’t, think she’s being closed off.

R: When’s the last time they had a birthday party?

She had a birthday party last year. It wasn’t a big one. It was thrown by her best friend, Hamia. A woman she adores. It was thrown inside her small apartment.

T: How quick are they to cry?

Marta’s not a big crier, and if she does cry, she won’t cry in front of anyone. It’s usually in private and away from people. Her mother didn’t raise her to be that way, and neither did her father, that’s just how she is.

I: In general, are they organized or messy?

She’s incredibly organized. She likes to be able to find things and being organized helps with her mental health.

N: Are they clumsy and/or prone to accidents?

She’s balanced.

A: Do they have any pet peeves?

When people don’t listen to her. She doesn’t talk much or give much feedback or opinion based conversation, but when she does, she hopes you listen because she usually knows what she’s talking about.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Damn Right the Perfect Queen Uses a Cane

Fairbanks is somehow simultaneously too small and too large a town. Apparently one of my very best friend's partner has been friend with Elva Birch since they were both teenagers, so that's a degree of Kevin Bacon I was super not expecting but shouldn't have been surprised by, because I KNOW how small a town Fairbanks is. None of which is strictly relevant to why we're talking about the second book in the Dragon Prince of Alaska series, but it is a fun little Fairbanks Fact. Which is even wilder because this book starts in Florida. So let's talk The Dragon Prince's Librarian.

This is, as is typical on this blog for sequels and mid-series books, a SPOILERIFIC REVIEW. Be warned.

Ok guys, I swear we aren't going to do all six books of this series here, and I know I am way overdue for the next Dresden Files book, but where I take just...every single possible issue with how the Dresden Files handles disability, this book handles it SO FREAKING WELL. Tania is realistically tired, realistically has good and bad days, realistically uses mobility aids, and realistically has that all-too-familiar feeling of "No, no, you don't even get to DREAM of being rescued from this situation because a) it will be too painful when it doesn't happen and b) you getting rescued doesn't fix the hideous inequities of the US healthcare system and frankly, that shit NEEDS fixing."

Additionally, I appreciate that Tania doesn't hate her cane. She recognizes that it lets her move and stand independently and it can up her quality of life, if only in small ways. What she hates is that the cane is UGLY. And that is entirely fair, because there is nothing worse than a boring, utilitarian mobility aid that stands out from you and your aesthetic rather than integrating with you. And Rian, absolute PRINCE that he is (pun fully intended), doesn't try to fix or cure Tania, he gets her a beautiful cane that integrates with her personality and aesthetic. That level of support literally made me cry. And then I cried MORE because while Rian couldn't fix the American healthcare system, what he COULD do was donate a ton of equally beautiful canes in Tania's name in such a way that the people who need them most can access them, the process for getting them is as simple and barrier-free as possible, and Rian took care of ALL of this so Tania did not have to expend spoons on it. The care and attention included in how thoughtful and well-executed this was was absolutely breathtaking. Literally, our reality is not this good, and I love that this book took such care and respect with how disability/chronic illness and mobility aids are handled. At no point did any of it feel patronizing, infantilizing, catastrophizing, or an attempt to "fix" something that was "broken" or "lesser." Just A+ no notes, and I don't say that often about representations of disability in books.

The other thing that I just felt in my bones about this book is how the end of Tania's academic career played out. She literally got gatekept and gaslighted because the Small Kingdoms erased every single trace of her master's thesis, her primary sources, and even her ADVISOR (who was paid to disappear, not killed). This very handily gets Tania kicked out of school, and as her health worsens, she also loses her job and health insurance, so by the time Rian shows up at her front door in Florida, Tania's life has literally fallen apart and it is 90% Rian's fault. Which makes the whole fated mates thing SUPER awkward, because she's rightfully pissed with him for torpedoing her degree and academic career, and also he then gaslit the hell out of her about that until he realized they were fated mates, came clean, apologized, and...proposed. It was awkward as hell, you guys.

And let me say, as someone who went to grad school, had someone gone from admitting they torpedoed my life and gaslit me about it to proposing marriage, they would have been super mega deadsies. Like, no questions asked, they just would have been annihilated by the sheer force of my rage.

But fated mates and romance novel, so Tania just mostly spends the whole book going "remember how you torpedoed my thesis?" in varying tones. Rian is literally never living that down, and he shouldn't, because frankly he was lucky to SURVIVE admitting that.

Overall though, I was so happy with the representation of disability and a healthy, positive relationship that includes a disabled person, as well as Tania and Rian as characters, I was willing to overlook insufficient consequences for fucking with a grad student's thesis. Because this book was a delight to read, and it is UNQUESTIONABLY my favorite book in the series.

[lonespektr]

OCTOBER 8TH HORROR WATCH

My animal (2023)

Full moon

Sis already bleeding

Old ass tv. I know it's not the past

Old film beauty n the beast shot

Heather has bounced

Into the snow. Into the night

The love of a woman

I for one think all credits should be red

Go into the house

Oh it is the past 🤷🏿‍♀️

Muscle woman

Them weights old as shit my dad used to have a set like that 🤣🤣

Man into wolf

The set design is legit lots of info in the room here

Oh mom isn't dead just maimed?? Now permeantly ill?

Trans or just trying to get on the hockey team? The eternal question

We had them fire pokers too

These set designers in my old house n shit

Shes out of high school, lives at home

Now amandla looks exceptionally modern in dress n hair style

Was that supposed to be canine like?

She does have s job

She's a professional skater?

Dude ditched in the snow WILD ain't no taxis there

Not hiding it

Hiding what?

Another nose bleed

Good big sis

Amandala invites her out

The mom is lamenting she isn't a girly girl so she is stuck in a house of boys

Midnight timeline for full moon?? Seems arbitrary i don't think moons have a 12 hour timeline

Out in the car no control over when to come back

Doing drugs

Super safe

11:30 casio alarm

Weird non casino visit just like hanging out while one person gambles

No smoke anywhere so not realistic

Lots of face bleeding

Horror movie woman screeching over growling over howling

Off into the woods

Now she is wolf

Lots of red being utilized

Lol they both came early to train and both got kicked out by the boys

Only thing in town is an ice rink

Always intrigued by the forward but closeted individual

They own a diner?

They use they chained up method

Lol weird sex dreams

Mandala nekkid but not her?

The twins have perfect hair

Amandala clocked the scratches every where

The locks are on the outside huh

Seems like mom didn't know about him before they got married

Then got bitter-er after the incident

But also she seems sick sick not just booze sick

One of the boys have an attitude problem but also it appears they are starving themselves possibly

A bit

There's a bunch of eggs all the time. It's standard American breakfast but it's also it's a large amount of eggs instead of traditional American tv breakfast which has too much of everything

Like 87% egg meal

Ok correct says she can try out

She drives mandala to her ice skating

🤣 dam yo mama suck here 's a free nacho sorry about your shiity life

Dad is sick too he's old

She crying

Oh mandala isn't a muscle lady which is her type lol

Try outs

Mandala boyfriend is uh like 30

She lets the girl distract her from her tryout

Can i say i fucking hate this trope?

I prefer when it's family drama, cumalative of course but it's just better to have an unforeseeable family situation arise than this shit

I just hate it , as a compartmentalizer it seems so unrealistic to have something screw up everything you been working for just because you didn't focus for an hour and process it later

Like GROW UP

Yes very depressing nothing to do town

Not these child twins with a fake ID

They're not only literally in middle school, they look younger than they are

I guess it's not full moon so they're at hers

Artsy 80's synth sex scene with not exactly bisexual lighting because of the use of reds and black

More growling

Pep talk

Moon anger

I tried to be alone

Rick's friend is rich

Ironically her mom is the only one in the family who is not a dog

Getting the cold shoulder gay panic

To go back to the boys who idea of fun is to speculate on milfs in front of their girlfriend

Classy

Breakup! 💔

Screaming crying and suddenly mom is of use! Mom can talk you through a breakup

That's a fancy vest my dude

Leather like panels?? On the puffer vest

Where can i cop old man?

Down he goes

Whole house is crying

Separately

Burn, no hospital

Ah he reverted to wolff form in death

Big ass wolf for little man

Usually you don't see a whole family

I guess you still don't because the kids are in the prehiphery

I get most of the stories are always about navigating and if you have a whole family then it's not a struggle you have infurstructure

But you literally don't have to always make it a coming of age alagory

Family fight

Boy who knows blames her lesbianism as the cause of fathers death

She runs off

Blood moon

Changing at midnight is convenient tbh

Lol now she bought to start a fight

Lol thought they were going to have her eat all of them like lol how could she come back from that

What does that mean in this context?

Petty argument here

Party city makeup but it's 80's aesthetic

Mom sobers up enough to handle her emotional break downs and wash away the tears

Nice nuance frankly

To have an all wrecked parent or a only fun/ good when manic or high parent

Instead of a relapse/ recovery parent who is inconsistent

Which is the more common. More interesting. More nuanced situation, more interesting and more realistic

Oh no first heart break looks the guy and books, lol