#cw vehicular trauma

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter nine: FIND a HIDDEN MEANING

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, mention of death, mentions of vehicular accident, mentions of motorcycle accident, ptsd, bodily injury, religious trauma, angst, blood, alcohol consumption

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know. 

Noah and I had swept the perimeter of my house and property, checking to see if anything else had been left behind. Nothing was out of place, but that didn’t stop Nick from worrying. Nothing I did or said seemed to stop him.

"I'm sure it's not intentional. Maybe they were driving around, saw my house, and stuck the flier in my door when they realized I wasn't home," I said to a tense Nick, who was thumbing through all the papers I had brought from the library yesterday.

Jesus fuck, that had been yesterday. So much had happened in just twenty-four hours, and I was just… rolling along with it. Nick, Noah and their group, and now a possibility of the reemergence of the Cult that destroyed their lives? A year ago, I might’ve run away. Now, I might be becoming a part of their crew.

“We’re not gonna take that chance,” Nick said, whether to me or himself, I wasn’t sure. “This whole town knows we hung out. If they know about the Watcher, then they know what I can do. They might think you know just by associating with me.”

“Well…” I trailed off. They wouldn’t be wrong.

My eyes fell onto the flier that stood out amidst the stark white papers.

PRESERVATION OF VESSELS

We are all perfect Vessel's, no more worthy than the rest. A perfect Vessel exists to serve the Divine Power. We must offer up our Souls to be Hollowed and imbued with His Grace. Each member of our Family shall serve in a way that best suits their potential. All shall live for the coming of the Great Singularity, as all become One and reach True Enlightenment.

The Children of the Revered Father fear not the pursuit of His Grace, for our purpose is pure and resolute. The Children of the Revered Father fear not the quest for knowledge, for our path has been cleared of peril and strife. The Children of the Revered Father fear not that life in thrall, for our Souls exist to serve the Divine Power.

“Maybe the name is a coincidence?” I said, though my voice betrayed how I thought of that idea. Nick’s look that he shot out of the corner of his eyes said the same.

“If you’re trying to make me feel better about this situation, it’s not working.” He turned back to the table, putting his chin in the palm of his hand.

I frowned as I got up and limped over to my kitchen window. Noah had run off to tell Jolly and Nick Folio about the situation, promising to return with a plan at some point. I had caught the look in his black eyes: the plan would most likely involve death, which I didn’t know if I was down for.

Of course I shouldn't be down for that. Shouldn't I? Even if that meant the possibility of losing…

I shook my head vigorously to get rid of that train of thought, like my brain was an etch-a-sketch and shaking it would erase the Bad Thoughts. I grabbed three beers out of the fridge. I left one bottle outside on the offering plate; a small conciliatory gesture that I hoped Noah would understand. Then I limped from the front door over to the couch.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked, looking me up and down as I handed him a bottle.

“Yeah, it’s just all that walking is taking its toll on my hip.” I winced as I collapsed back onto the cushion. I nearly moaned into the bottle in relief as the pressure was lifted.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I forgot about that,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have taken you out there.”

“Nick, there’s no way I would’ve stayed here after last night. I would've followed you, and I probably would've gotten lost again," I said. “And if I would’ve been home, then I would’ve come face to face with those people.”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me.” He took a swig. “I mean, you could’ve at least told me you were hurting.”

I snorted in amusement. “What would you have done? Carry me?” I asked. The image flashed through my head, and I had to turn away from Nick to hide my flushed face.

“You probably wouldn’t hear the end of it from Noah,” he chuckled. I groaned at the thought of him laughing at me in my mind.

He absentmindedly picked up a page and glanced over it. “He’s probably still mad at me for yelling at him.” He looked up at me. “Noah doesn’t like being yelled at, even if he knows he’s done something wrong.”

“Like when an innocent person trips and hits their head?”

“Exactly,” He sighed. He let the paper slip through his fingers. It was about the rhyme I had found about “The Towering Man.” Nick let his head fall back onto the back of the couch, and stared up at the ceiling. “I can understand if you don’t want to stay here anymore.”

It took me a second to remember that Noah and I had conversed in our minds, not spoken aloud with Nick. I just assumed that Noah had told him. “I’m not leaving,” I stated. Nick actually looked at me like I was crazy. “I’m not moving back to Newport. No creepy forest cults can make me do that.”

Nick straightened up, a movement that took me off-guard. “Was it really just your brother's death that made you move to the other side of the state? Or was it something more?”

My mouth popped open slightly. “H-How did–”

“You’re not the only one who did some research,” he said.

I racked my brain for the possibility of how he found out, when it finally hit me. “You… you looked up my brother's obituary?” I asked, my voice stammering.

“I got curious. I wasn’t going to say anything about it until now,” he said, “but you happened to leave out the part where your parents were in the same accident.”

My throat constricted as the blood rushed to my face. “Then you probably saw that Taylor isn’t—“

“I don’t care about that. That’s not who you are to me," he said, putting his hand over mine. I stared down at the shark tattoo on the back of his hand. “But I can guess where you got the name from, and I think it’s a sweet reason. I just can’t understand why you would rather be here than—“

“Cause I couldn’t stand the emptiness, okay?!” I blurted out, my voice coming out louder than I wanted. I stood up quickly. “All my family was gone in an instant, and I was left by myself to pick up the pieces!”

“Hey, Tay, I didn’t mean to—“ Nick paused, taking in my stance. That’s when I realized my breathing was labored, and I could feel my eyes starting to mist.

I took a deep breath. “It’s fine - I’m fine,” I stated, holding up a hand. “I just… I wasn’t expecting this.”

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and I felt he meant it in more ways than one.

A painful silence fell between us. I could feel myself teetering on the edge of my emotions. "It was a freak accident,” I blurted out.

I heard the couch creak as the words tumbled out. "I think a car was changing lanes and didn't see my parent's car. I don't remember a whole lot, but I remember hitting one of the cars and being thrown off the bike. I remember–"

"Taylor, you don't have to–" he tried to interrupt.

"--crawling along the road, breaking my fingernails in the asphalt as I tried to reach Mike–" I couldn't stop talking.

"Taylor–"

"--the smell of blood from his cracked–"

"TAYLOR!”

I startled, feeling a sharp pain in my biceps. As Nick pulled my hands away from my arms, I realized I had dug my fingernails into them hard enough to draw blood. With Nick's shout and sudden presence in front of me, I relaxed.

"You're bleeding. "

"S' fine," I mumbled, my adrenaline rush leaving me shaking. Nick pulled me back to the couch, making me sit down. He gently rubbed the marks with the sleeve of his flannel shirt, wiping away the blood. Luckily, the marks were shallow and had pretty much stopped bleeding immediately.

While he did that, I absentmindedly played with the string on my pinky. “Do I keep this on forever? Or can I cut it off?” I asked, holding my hand up. I couldn't look at his face. This was the third time I had a flashback in the last 24 hours, and I knew that if I looked up at him, I would lose it at the slightest inconvenience.

Despite my fiddling, the string stayed put. It must've been made of strong stuff, having survived the hike over the trees and rocks. “Here, lemme take it off. Cutting it is bad luck,” he said. His hands moved from my arms to my finger; his fingertips lightly dragging over my skin. Taking my hand, he untied the knot with swift, precise fingers. I felt exactly the same as when he had tied it on.

When the string was off, I was surprised to feel like it was still there. Like a phantom string, a thread of gold tying us together.

“Taylor?”

My eyes snapped up to his face, and I realized that he had been watching me this entire time with eyes clear as glass. “Y-yeah?” I asked, voice cracking. I was afraid that he was going to say something about the previous fifteen minutes, and I really didn't want to cry in front of him.

Anything I had been thinking about or feeling flew out the moment his mouth had pressed to mine. The accident, the monsters, the cult; everything. The universe had come to a complete stop, and nothing else mattered except this.

There was hardly any time for me to register what he was doing before he leaned down and placed his lips on mine.

I inhaled sharply, but when Nick cupped my face in his hands, my eyelids fluttered closed. The small amount of moisture in my eyes rolled down my cheeks, collecting on his thumbs. I found myself mimicking the motion of his lips, tilting my head by a few degrees.

Every sense of mine felt elevated. My cheeks felt like fire under his touch. The gentle scrape of his stubble against my chin. The taste and softness of his lips. The feeling of his flannel shirt as i slid my hands up to his shoulders.

He was the one to pull away first, and I almost fell forward as I tried to catch my breath. I felt his forehead press against mine as he tried to do the same.

“‘M sorry… if I went too… far,” he panted, leaning back. I felt myself lean forward, as if my body was somehow tied to his. I even felt a pang of loneliness as he parted from me.

I slowly opened my eyes, and when I looked up into his, grey with flecks of blue and green that were almost obliterated by the dilation of his pupils, it finally hit me that nothing was going to ever be the same again.

And I was fine with it.

I shook my head. “No, you didn’t go too far. You didn’t go too far at all,” I babbled almost incoherently. “In fact, you didn’t go far enough.”

The dumbfounded look in his eyes almost made me laugh, killing the moment, but then his lips were crashing back onto mine again, and that chuckle quickly turned into a sigh.

Absolutely fine with it.

Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!

[cpirits]

( * EDWARD ELRIC AU drabble )

*sometimes Edward has nightmares of the crash, that even come when he’s awake and going about his day – or trying to.*

{ this is a short excerpt from my fan fiction, but completely diverts from the actual text, as I am currently rewriting it. }

[ He remembers her voice – her laughter as he cracked a joke. The car turned a corner and it happened. A truck came barreling through and struck the little taxi, pushing it back against the curb. Another car got hit as well and spiraled around, bashing into the taxi’s front, pushing it up onto the sidewalk. Swinging around, the car got hit from behind by the truck - the first one - in the rear and bashed into a light pole.

[ In his mind’s eye, he sees the crash happening right in front of him, as if he were a spectator but also a participant. The pain goes down his right shoulder as his body was forced from its sitting position as the car struck the pole, turning in on itself at the side, metal bending and screeching in their ears. ]

[ The bodies thrown forward by the crash into the steel, the two in front were dead on impact, leaving him…alone and alive. His eyes would grow large as he watches his lover’s body fall backward, head sickeningly crushed by the dashboard as it folded inward, shards of glass from the windshield and window marring her beautiful face. Her arm, which she had tried to hold up to save herself, was almost hanging off her body, leaving a trail of blood and showing muscle up to her shoulder. ]

[ His body held in great sobs, as his form shook, back and forth, like a pendulum. Golden eyes seemed dead with her as he looked upon her face, stricken in shock as her death mask, face contorted in a soundless scream. The tears fell from his golden eyes, they slowly lost all life as he gazed around at the scene before him. The seat belt wrapped around his middle and chest cut into his flesh, leaving his neck then bleeding as he pulled the buckle apart from the clasp. ]

[ He screamed so much he lost his voice, the front of the vehicle on fire and scalding him at such short range from inside the hood. He continued to scream, and his pained low screaming brought people to the crash site, curious as to what was going on. Pounding on the door from the inside, Ed tried to escape, as glass fell from the window, causing him to collapse on the floor of the vehicle and shield himself. ]

[ Somehow glass found its way into his eyes as he shielded his body, feeling bits and slivers of glass cut his skin. Moaning in pain, he tried to pick the glass from his eyes, but had no luck. Bleeding faintly and unable to see, Ed pounded on the door harder than ever, groaning in weakness and pain. People began to try to rescue him, and the forces at Central were called, assisting the people in prying off the side door and getting ed free. ]

[ They found him shaking and bleeding in the floor of the car. It took four pairs of hands to pull him out, and he shook and babbled incoherently as he was taken to the hospital. ]

[maidofmetal]

under the cut: cw for mental illness drug addiction alcoholism injury and suicide

earlier today someone reblogged discourse that i didn’t wanna participate in and said if someone attempts suicide and fails n results in chronic pain they are not disabled because of the suicide attempt but because of their chronic pain

as someone who has dealt more with mental illness, alcoholism and drug addiction i wholeheartedly disagree. and i think it downplays how debilitating and destructive mental illness in all its forms can be. mental illness and addiction are very complex and taking that away is ignorant and downright dangerous. we have already faced so much abuse from society, our doctors and our families we do not need other disabled people ignoring how destructive mental illnesses can be

if someone who is an alcoholic or an addict gets into an vehicular accident, their addiction was the cause of the accident. they know this whether they can admit it or not. whether they experience chronic pain or mobility issues because of the accident cannot be disconnected from the fact they are an alcoholic. if you’re arguing that the vehicle caused their physical disability you don’t understand anything about alcoholism or drug addiction. (i am not saying the person is responsible because again addiction is fucking complex n i don’t think there’s a simple answer for that. but that’s a conversation for another time)

if someone has such severe panic attacks they throw up quiet literally all day long for years and years and end up burning the shit out of their stomach lining and esophagus and need to take medication or have procedures to treat it why does it matter that it was caused by chronic mental illness? they’re still going to struggle with pain and treatments and not to mention how fucking shitty and traumatizing it is to throw up from fucking untreatable panic attacks. if several people are talking about their severe acid reflux and the damage it did to their stomach lining or whatever and the panic attack person pipes up and they figure out they take the same medication to protect their stomach lining why does it matter that one is because of panic attacks and one is because of acid reflux ?

if someone who is suicidal attempts suicide and let’s say…loses their leg due to their attempt. they are an amputee because of the suicide attempt. it is beyond cruel to deny that they are disabled because of their suicidal behavior. it ignores the very context of the accident and the pain and suffering that person would have gone through both BEFORE and AFTER THE ACCIDENT it ignores the trauma of being mentally ill and the trauma of being physically disabled because of a mental illness.

it’s invalidating and ignorant and dangerous to disconnect mentally ill people from there mental illness. we are not always in control of our actions or behaviors and this is always super important to consider. the alcoholic may hate drinking and the person who they become but addiction isn’t a choice despite what y’all think. there is so much fucking guilt surrounding mental illness, addiction and suicide attempts. and saying someone who tries to kill themselves n results in being physically disabled isn’t disabled because of their suicidal ideation at best uninformed at worst cruelly ableist.

(this wasn’t an attempt to create discourse amongst physically disabled people. and you will get blocked if you try that shit)

[magebastard]

7, 17, and 27 for the detective asks!!

!! thank you so much for asking I will answer these for lane :-) under a cut bc i ramble

7. Do they have any fears?

lane is afraid of accidentally causing a grease fire and also of the depth of their own anger

17. How did they join the Police?

ok so. the too long backstory explanation. everything lane has done has been directly tied to rook. they grew up wanting to be a musician because rook left behind his bass and his guitar and a huge collection of records. in hs and college lane was in a band w their best friend and high school sweetheart and that was their career plan.

—

cw death and vehicular trauma//

after a car accident, wherein lanes partner did not make it, they moved back to wayhaven

—

they reconnect w neighbors and childhood friends and their community and they listen to a lot of stories about rook and what a hero he was and it inspires them to go back to school to get their masters in forensics and follow in his footsteps.

so in trying their hardest to be like rook they end up a whole lot like rebecca too

the short version: they just wanted to be like rook!

27. Game wise: What are their stats?

end of book 2 stats:

Charming: 76% Intimidating: 24%

Impulsive: 57% Cautious: 43%

Sarcastic: 40% Genuine: 60%

Friendly: 75% Stoic: 25%

Easygoing: 62% Stubborn: 38%

Traits

Heart: 64% Mind: 36%

Optimist: 69% Pessimist: 31%

Team Player: 86% Independent: 14%

Personal Relationships

Rebecca

Past Relationship: Tense relationship due to her absences.

Current Relationship: 27%

Skills

People and Psychology: 77%

Combat and Physical: 8%

Science and Technology: 73%

Deduction and Knowledge: 33%

By the Book: 63% Bend the Rules: 37%

Defence against Supernaturals

Combat: 0

Research: 16

Professional Relationships

Mayor Friedman: 1

Police Captain: 7

[verse-and-vibes]

"Blunt Force Trauma" - an original poem

(CW: vehicular manslaughter used as comparison to my social skills)

I navigate social encounters With the gracefulness of a semi truck Veering off the edge of a highway And plowing into a crowd

While some mince words with knives I bash them with a baseball bat Some beat around the bush, I dive straight in And regret it when the mood falls flat

I cannot lie, so I omit the full truth Slowly drip-feeding meaning depending on the scene But in moments of stress, I struggle to digress And I make massacres of moments serene

As I navigate social encounters With the gracefulness of a semi truck Veering off the edge of a highway And plowing into a crowd

[sagaofstardustmkg]

helianthus annus || orpheus || trial 5.1 || re: sasha

( cw: vehicular accident mention, skip 2nd paragraph of dialogue in the big chunk )

Taking his typical seat next to Caleb and Fumie, Ben settles in to listen to those who may have something worthwhile to share. Mari’s sudden and immediate questioning of Sasha, of course, makes sense. It’s good to have that information available to them before they continue on.

“We don’t trust you because you’re a little shit bastard. But that’s not relevant to the proceedings, so we’ll just leave it at that.”

Ben says in response to the admittedly very helpful information. Still, it’s not like he’s going to say “thank you for explaining your horrific prank to us, it’s very helpful.” Instead, he just continues on in his theories with the new knowledge. It confirms a few things in his mind, so he’s thankful that someone thought to ask about it.

“I believe it’s worth pointing out that Haruki and Strikeout both have 6:48 AM written as their time of death while VB has 6:49 AM, meaning that whatever took out VB did so after Strikeout was already dead. Haruki and Strikeout were knocked unconscious or killed simultaneously or nearly simultaneously, implying to me that the same action took them out in some way.

In addition to that, I think it’s also important to note that Strikeout likely didn’t die from her impact. The cause of death listed is whiplash, not blunt force trauma or internal bleeding or anything that may imply the fall killed her. Whiplash deaths are most commonly seen in car crashes but can also happen on roller coasters--it’s what happens when your head, body, and neck move or stop at different speeds…Sorry for the gruesome explanation, I, ah, thought it may be helpful to those who might not--not be familiar with it.”

Giving the description has clearly made him a bit nauseous, even if all he did was explain what could have transpired. Eugh. Horrid. He’ll let someone else take the floor now.

[rosethornewrites]

Tuesday’s NR, E, and M fics

As per usual, The Untamed/MDZS.

Finished:

Not Rated:

On Spoiled Husbands, by sleepydragon03

Evenings like this, with the snow deadening the sounds of the world outside the jingshi, were Lan Wangji's favorite.

NHS picks NMJ's clothing, by nirejseki

Prompt: NMJ letting NHS pick his clothes

Close to Me, by voxnoxsox (second in a series)

Wei Ying wanted to get on with the domestic bliss already, but Lan Zhan wasn’t letting him.

Femme!WWW creeped on by JFM, by @mondengel

Via @angstymdzsthoughts : Fem!WWX au, where JFM gets her engaged to JC as an excuse to attach her to LP while she comes of age. YZY is desperate to get her out of LP not because she hates her, but because she sees the way that her husband looks at the 15yo WWX with lust, who would’ve thought that her husband was like that pig JGS? When WWX goes to gusu and starts liking LWJ, she grabs the chance to marry her before the lectures even finish, and if JFM dies some time after the wedding nobody will suspect it was his wife.

Vehicular Attempted Homicide, by Jin_Lings_Guncle (second in a series)

Jiang Cheng graciously agrees to run an errand for his beloved sister before a family dinner. Unfortunately, he isn't able to take his own car for the trip.

Rated E:

The best joker, by wangxiandoux

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. I gave you a small one. Look."

Redo: Bathtub scene, by Rinrinreira

What if Wei Ying had respected Lan Zhan's boundaries and stopped when Lan Zhan told him to?

In someone like you, by Moonshine_Milkshake

He’s abandoned whatever reservations he had left about taking it slowly, mind clouded with desire. He’s done. Needs it.

“Please,” he whispers in between kisses, breath heavy, “I want you, Lan Zhan, please…”

Rated M:

For Us Both, by MSteele

One night too deep in his cups Wei Wuxian gets the brilliant idea to write Lan Wangji and expose the feelings he has been nursing in secret.

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

Sins of the Father, by eloquencejones

Family. Legacy. Reputation.

Lan Sizhui makes a decision about what it all means to him, and he can think of a dozen people who aren't going to like it, but he's an adult now and he needs to forge his own path.

But when you're using the past to build the future, what do you do when the past catches up with you?

In Which Soup is NOT the Solution, by such_stuff_as_dreams_are_made_on

Jin Zixuan reacts differently when it is revealed Jiang Yanli was making him soup. Somehow this leads to him bonding with Wei Wuxian.

My heart just burst like a glass balloon (They let me fly too high and I shattered too soon), by M0onb0w

Death was not what he wanted.

He wanted someone to love and care for him.

It wasn’t his life he wanted to end.

He wanted to end the pain.

seeds in his heart (roots tearing the love in him apart), by genttlebreeze

Wei Wuxian survives the First Siege.

Thirteen years later, Wei Sizhui leaves the Burial Mounds.

To keep you safe, by Heathers03

Wei Wuxian takes the fall for a crime his brother may or may not have committed, ending his relationships with everyone he loved. Now after serving eight years in a maximum-security prison, Wei Ying has to learn how to live with the trauma of those years spent secluded from the outside world without his past catching up with him

Rated M:

the first thousand days, by ilgaksu

There is snow in the Cloud Recesses. Lan Xichen catches sight of Wangji reaching out of the window: just his hand out, straining after the cold on his skin.

In The End, by confused_insomniac (cw: implied in the summary)

The man placed the bouquet on the grave and stood up. He wiped his tears and looked at the grave one last time, "I will see you soon, Wei Ying."

OR

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji lived a happy life until that one incident.

A fluffier version of this book will be published later on.

[despairandregretentertainment]

Chapter 3 Motive || Exsanguinophobia

8 PM, Monoka calls you all to the commons, and again refuses to participate by announcing the motive.

Once everyone arrives, the screen begins scrolling through the faces of the remaining players before finally landing on…

“Ah, dammit. I was wondering what took them so long,” Lister remarks, pulling off his coat as the security team enter the room. “Hold this for me, please?” He asks Capernica, handing off the coat to her, before pressing his wrists together for the guards to escort him out of the room with.

The screen flickers for a moment before displaying the following scene and caption.

(CW: vehicular accident, impalement, neck trauma)

—

The scene opens on a busy highway, vehicles criss-crossing between lanes in the evening light. Lister is seated in the driver’s seat of a Tesla, gripping the wheel grimly. An experimental turn of the wheel confirms that he isn’t in control of the self-driving car, and with one hand chained to the dashboard in front of him, he certainly isn’t going anywhere fast.

You hear a loud crash. The other cars start colliding into one another, a pile-up reminscent of the second Final Destination movie he enjoyed watching as a kid for the practical effects and gore, but the truck in front of him doesn’t have a bunch of logs strapped to it. Not that the rusty rebar is any more preferable, but it’s not like the surgeon would ever have a modicum of control here.

Lister reaches around with his free hand to fasten his seatbelt with an unhappy groan. “Aw fuck-”

The impact stalls the construction truck first, the electric car second, and the bars not at all as they fly through the glass windshield. One goes through his neck, as several others pin Lister to his car seat in a tortuous fashion, through his chest, his gut, his arms and legs. 

Expertly placed to deny him a quick death, however, you see rivulets of blood run down the myriad wounds as white turns red like roses, staining his perfectly immaculate surgeon’s scrubs. You can’t imagine what he must be feeling, and whether or not you gave two shits about Lister, not even the other visions involved actually killing someone.

And yet he doesn’t die.

The rational part of his brain knows this isn’t real. Even if he dies by hypervolemic shock or in the ensuing explosion, he’s going to wake up soon and return to the DARE facility in one piece. The rest of his brain is too entirely focused on the fact that he’s bleeding slowly and can’t move. He’s even denied the catharsis to scream by virtue of the blood pooling up in his windpipe.

Distantly, he can see that the oil from the tanker is pooling up on the ground, slowly moving to the underside of his wrecked car. The fiery blaze further past the truck has started to spread out, and with enough luck, the inferno will travel down the oil quick enough to blast him to pieces to end this torturous experience.

And yet he doesn’t die.

Of course he isn’t so lucky, and for agonizing minutes, you’re forced to watch him feebly struggle against his wounds. With an unearthly groan, he frees his left arm from the bar pinning it to the tunnel console, and presses it against the bar in his neck to gauge whether he even has a chance.

He doesn’t and he knows it. Lister’s hole-ridden arm holds onto the rebar weakly, his breathing in shallow tatters even as he clings to life stubbornly. Blood runs freely down his battered body, unable to do anything but suffer the consequences. At this point, he really just wants to end it all, but whatever mind set this scenario up made sure to draw his demise on for as long as possible.

His eyes, usually green with pride, envy, joy and resolve, are now blood-red. His mouth moves in a silent voice, and those of you who can read lips can see that he’s “speaking” Japanese. Blink. Blink on three. One. Two.

As he mouths “three”, his hand drives itself into the rebar and opens up the fatal wound within, causing blood to spurt from his neck as Lister finally and mercifully expires with a pained rattle. To add insult to injury, the car finally explodes, raining equal parts metal, fire and blood onto the street as the screen fades to black.

—

CAPTION:

Very few things can truly phase the sociopath otherwise known as Dr. Rafe Leung, but a slow death by exsanguination tops the shortlist. As one of the 0.0004% of the world's population who possesses the h/h blood group, Dr. Leung is in very short supply for blood and organs should he be involved in circumstances outside his control. This VR scenario was designed to force him to relinquish control over his health and safety to bleed out in a car accident over fifteen minutes, as his hemophilia will not allow us to keep him alive for longer.

—

When he is escorted back, Lister, or perhaps Rafe if you prefer, has a haunted look written across his handsome face. He gestured for his jacket back, and takes it from Capernica with a quiet nod.

“I’m going to check on Ayumi.” He whispers curtly, before skulking off.

[soysaucevictim]

Describing various forms of vehicular carnage as yogurt or mashed potatoes really shouldn’t be so hilarious. But here we are.

(Context: watching some folks riff off of the cynical paranoia fuel in some car ads to the tune of, “EVERYONE WILL DIE IF YOU DON’T BUY OUR SAFE AS SHIT CAR!!!“)

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter eleven: JUST wouldn't STAY DOWN

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, mentions of vehicular accident, mentions of motorcycle accident, religious sacrifice, ptsd, large canines, bodily injury, body horror, graphic violence, religious trauma, blood, witchcraft

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know. 

I tried to relax the best way I knew how: playing with the cats. When that didn't work, I tried staying still on my bed, but the scent of Nick was still ingrained in my sheets.

“Lyds, why am I so useless?” I asked, less to the calico and more to myself.

My only response was the sound of cat paws hitting the wooden floor. Great, even they were abandoning me. I sat up, watching Lydia move towards the dresser that was still pulled away from the wall. The lock box still discarded near it—

But not empty.

I scooted off the bed and picked it up. In his haste to take out whatever had been it, Noah didn't scoop out some papers that had stuck to the bottom.

It looked like notes, like mine, but attached to it was a page from a book, or maybe a handbook:

"Beyond the conceptual or abstract, it is an existence born of darkness and light, manifesting in every corner of our world. This Divine Power cannot be wielded or controlled by humankind, but merely channeled through distinct means. The greatest way to channel Divine Power is to become a Vessel for the Truth.

To become a proper Vessel, one must be completely open to receive the Truth. To be open, one must be empty: all unnecessary thoughts and emotions must be cast aside in a process called Hollowing. Hollowing occurs at the end of one's journey to seek Truth.

Once the Hollowing is complete and one has become an Empty Vessel the Truth may then fill that void using the Ritual of Cleromancy. Those filled with the Truth are fully enlightened, a receptacle of knowledge and Divine Power. Imbuement is the greatest privilege for those who seek the Truth, as all who journey strive to reach this peak."

And then on the paper, written in a small, clipped handwriting:

"RITUAL OF CLEROMANCY = STAB SOMEONE IN THE GUT"

God, even back then Noah was a blunt bastard.

I shook the lockbox, thinking something else might've gotten stuck, and I was rewarded with something metallic and small dropping out of the box. It bounced, and Jerry scrambled to chase it, batting at it with his paws. I quickly retrieved it before he would try and chew on it.

It was a small ear spacer, almost the size of a stud. It had to be Nick's, from when he started to stretch his lobes.

That's when I heard noises from the other side of the house “Taylor?” I heard Folio call.

“Coming!” I scrambled up and out of my room. I ran to my living room where—

"What the fuckin' hell?” I shouted.

Folio’s hands and mouth were coated in blood, but Noah was almost drenched head to toe in it. He had shed his shirt and jacket, and this close I could make out the pattern of symbols tattooed from his collarbones to his hips. And despite his human appearance, the branch-like antlers were present.

“Like what you see?" Noah asked after popping his jaw, a sound like several twigs snapping accompanying the motion.

I was too grossed out to be angry at his comment. “What the fuck did you guys do to him?”

“Interrogated,” Folio said, grinning. God, his fangs were dripping blood still.

"When you said bloody, I didn't think this much—“

“There's a lot of blood in a human body,” Noah said, wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand, which didn't do much since that was covered in blood as well.

I swallowed. Surprisingly I didn't feel like throwing up. “Did you at least get something out of the guy?”

“Well, we definitely got his intes—“

Noah smacked Folio upside the head, earning a small growl. “No location, but Jolly's working on that. But we got the reason behind all this.”

“Between all the screaming," Folio added.

“They’re going to try and resurrect the old Watcher, so they can go back to the old ways. And since it’s not one of the Days of Power, they’re using a practitioner for the Ritual,” Noah said. “They were going to use Granny, but they took Nick when he showed up unexpectedly.”

My vision started spinning. The Ritual. “Cleromancy,” I muttered.

“How did you—“

“You left some stuff behind,” I said. My legs felt too heavy to move, so I couldn’t get the handbook page. “We have to find him. I can’t…”

I couldn’t lose Nick. Not after I’ve lost so much already.

“Is there a way we could speed up the locating process? Jolly only has maybe eight hours, and has fifty miles to cover,” Folio said.

“If you know another way, I’m all ears dude.”

My eyes fell on my coffee table while they conversed. Amongst the papers we had abandoned last night, the little red string stood out like a fresh wound.

"What if we get separated?"

"This helps with that as well. Unless you'd rather I hold your hand the entire way?"

I don’t know why I threaded the string through the ear spacer, nor why I tied the string around my wrist. I wasn’t a practitioner, nor a witch. Was it a good luck charm? A pathetic excuse to connect to Nick? It wasn’t even that great of a job, since I did it one-handed.

Except I felt a spark of… something.

It started as a warmth in my chest and head, where my near-healed head wound was. It moved to my hand, where the metal spacer heated up and felt like it would sear my skin. I hissed in surprise and pain, pulling the spacer away, but there was no mark on my skin.

“The fuck are you doing over there?”

I turned around at Noah’s voice. He looked annoyed but curious at what I was doing. When I turned though, the metal cooled down. I turned back, and the metal heated up again.

“I think I just unintentionally casted a location spell.”

“So when did you learn how to practice?” Noah asked.

“I didn't. It just… I don't know,” I said, sighing.

This trek through the woods was a lot faster, even though I kept tripping and falling, due to not having Nick keeping me upright. At one point Noah suggested Folio carry me on his back, even going so far as to call it a “furry piggyback ride” after we refused the first time. Needless to say, we refused again.

I couldn't feel angry at him. Just… pity, I guess. “You got serious anger issues then. Probably should see a therapist about that,” I stated.

Unfortunately, Folio ran on ahead to scout the area in front of us, with Noah acting as the middle man if we had to change directions because of the terrain. Which left me with the man who just this morning had me pinned to the wall by my neck.

“So how long?” I asked. Noah made an inquisitive grunting noise. “How long did you have feelings for him?”

Noah was silent for a while, almost making me think he wasn't going to dignify me with a response, until he finally spoke, “Not too long before shit went down, actually. We… bonded a little after we watched Folio get killed.”

“Bonded? Is that a euphemism for–”

“No, get your mind out of the gutter,” Noah snapped. “We kissed once, okay? After i lost my mom, I stayed over a lot. Nick wasn't into it, and I respected that. We stayed friends, and I got a girlfriend soon after.”

“Elin?”

“God, don't fucking remind me. That bitch deserved her fate,” Noah growled. The thought of what that fate probably was had me pushing through another several moments of tense silence.

“You didn't get over him, did you?” I asked quietly.

“I did, in fact. When I was in service to the original Watcher as the Towering Man,” Noah said with a bitter laugh. “Being over six feet tall was a curse in school, and the Watcher just loved to rub my face in it.

“I would wait for Nick to realize that I wasn't dead; that I was right outside in the woods behind his house. Nick used to search the woods after the search parties gave up, turns out. I thought he had just given up. So I left, and didn't see him until the next Summer Solstice.

“I guess seeing him with you… brought back old wounds. And I acted on them.”

Noah was about to respond when he suddenly crouched down, pushing me down with him. “You see that fire?” He hissed.

We crept up on the scene before us. It was… horrifying. That was the only way I could describe it, but even then, it felt inadequate. It looked exactly how I’d imagine a cult would look like: dark clearing, candles, an altar.

I could only count ten members. They all wore black cloaks, and black masks that mimicked a deer’s skull and antlers. They all stood in pairs, except one who stood before a tall effigy made of thick branches, twigs, vines and leaves. And tied that effigy, in some kind of terrifying mockery of the crucifixion, was Nick.

I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to middle the sound of my choked sob. From this distance, I couldn’t see if he was alive or not; just that he was covered in blood.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“Wait for Jolly to lure them to the river. He's not far,” Noah said.

My stomach churned when I looked back at Nick. A part of me wanted to rush the cultists and get him down, but I knew with my disabled hip I wouldn't be able to take on ten people who may or may not have something to stab me with. At least one person had to if they were going to try to sacrifice Nick.

Just then, one of the cultists brought out a small drum, starting to tap out a rhythm that was simple but loud. I could compare it to what my heartbeat felt like.

The one that was closest to Nick, who stood out amongst the others because their mask’s antlers were blood-red instead of black like the others, held up a hand. “We will now drink from the Cup of Fate,” the leader called out.

“Come on, Jolly. Any second now,” Noah hissed from behind me.

“Our words uttered into the formless void.”

“Our words uttered…” the cultists parroted back.

“Reverberate through the space between space, between space.”

The rhythmic beating of the drum and the smell of smoke was almost hypnotizing. More so than the one time I heard Jolly’s guitar playing…

“We are heard by THAT WHICH WATCHES OVER US, so it may lift one heavy, eager eye in our direction.”

“You don’t think they have the drum to dispel Jolly’s song, do you?” I whispered to Noah.

“We are heard by those who shall always be nameless—“

“Fuckin’… shit!” Noah cursed.

“—whose incorporeal arms reach for us—“

“Alright, Folio, get in there.”

“—uniting us in unbodied observance, until we are heard no—“

The chant was cut off by the sound of a long howl. The drum stopped, and when the howl faded, I could hear the sound of a guitar and a clear voice singing:

“If God came down from His kingdom; He came down from His home, and we asked Him if He would take us back, He would surely tell us no.”

Noah had warned me of Jolly's songs, which was why I brought some small ear plugs that blocked out certain frequencies. It just so happened to block out any siren-esque frequencies as well.

What they didn't block out was the absolute chaos that came next.

They didn't block out the sounds of creaking wood and snapping branches behind me as Noah shifted into his other form. They didn't block out the sounds of Folio’s paws thundering through the forest, nor his snarls. They didn’t block out the screams as some people were ripped apart by Folio’s jaws. I had to block it all out myself.

I looked up as Noah’s deformed shadow fell over me. He looked down at me through a deer’s skull, which from this angle, I could see was melded to his face. His large, glowing white eyes pierced the darkness.

GET TO NICK.

I didn't need to be told twice.

As Noah loped towards the remaining cultists, I bolted towards Nick as fast as I was able to. I almost slammed face-first into the effigy when I skidded to a stop, but I caught myself by digging my fingers into the cracks between the sticks. The carnage behind me was still unfolding, even as I heard Noah unleash an unearthly shriek. Using a small pocket knife to cut Nick’s legs free, I soon had to climb the effigy to free his wrists.

That's when I heard a small noise come from him. I pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat and his chest rise and fall. I almost collapsed in relief. “Nick? Nick, hold on. We're gonna get you out of here,” I sputtered, moving my hand to cup the side of his face. His eyes fluttered open at the touch. They looked drained of color in the dim light.

“Hey, you’re gonna be alright, okay? I’m gonna get you out of here,” I repeated, trying to keep him conscious. “I'm gonna cut this one rope, and I'll try to catch you, but we might take a fall–"

I had cut through the rope, finally freeing him, and Nick started to slide down. I managed to catch him, but I couldn't compensate for the near-dead weight in time. As my footing slipped, I tried to catch us by grabbing onto the effigy. The wood tore my hands up. I hissed in pain, but held on for dear life; more for his and less for mine.

My feet touched the ground, followed by Nick's. Luckily he was only half a foot taller than me, because otherwise this would've gotten awkward as I wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

I searched wildly for Noah. Thankfully, he was easy to spot. I got him!! I screamed out into the ether in his direction.

GO! RUN!

Just then, a dark force barreled into me, launching me and tearing Nick from my arms. As I landed on my bad hip, a visceral scream of pain tore up my throat. In my dazed state, I barely saw the same force kick me with what seemed to be supernatural strength, as I heard bones crack as I flew several feet away and landed on my back.

“You who are empty, I shall guide your step. Lo, though you envy, envy not. Lo, though you covet, covet not.”

Despite the agonizing pain in my side, I managed to turn myself over onto my stomach. Vision spinning, I was able to find Nick, who had managed to push himself up onto his elbows. I started to pull myself toward him.

“You who are empty, I shall see through your eyes. Lo, though you toil, toil only for me. Lo, though you suffer, suffer only for me.”

A strong hand grabbed the back of my skull, tearing some of my hair out from its bun and my scalp. The pain was dulled, thanks to the adrenaline. The voice that hissed in my ear was the same voice as the leader.

“You who are empty, I shall be with you and within you. You who are empty, you shall want no longer.”

He suddenly let me go, a wave of dizziness and fog overcoming me as I collapsed back to the ground, face smashing into the hard ground. I groaned into the pavement as the adrenaline faded, and my entire left side felt like it had been scorched. I couldn’t feel my legs.

I sucked in a deep breath, though it hurt my chest to do so, and shifted my head to where my cheek was pressed against the hot asphalt. Someone’s headlights illuminated the entire crash scene, but my eyes immediately fell upon a masculine body that was several feet away, blue-gray eyes fixed on me. Eyes that pleaded for me.

I forced my body to move, even if it was just my arms. I clawed at the blacktop, my weak strength barely getting me off the street, and I barely felt the twinge as my fingernails split and broke.

YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM.

Yes, yes I could. If my stupid body would just cooperate–

YOU ARE WEAK.

Why wasn't I moving?

YOU ARE EMPTY.

No. Not this again.

My brother was dying. Again.

And I was being forced to watch. Again.

Fuck, everything hurt.

Everything was hazy as well, like the whole day was spent underwater. Nicholas tried to think of the last thing he remembered clearly. Having sex with Taylor? That was practically so ingrained into his brain, he’d never forget about that in a million years. Noah being angry and yelling at him about Taylor having sex with Taylor? Yeah, that was pretty much ingrained into him as well. Driving to his grandmother's house, going through the front door, and then… That's where his memories took a nosedive.

He practically existed in a halfway state, up until now. Small flashes of consciousness here and there was all he had. He had tried to reach out to the Woods to try and gain some energy back, but he couldn’t, so whoever had him must've drugged him or bound his inner power. He felt like a battery whose insides were slowly leaking.

Except he could sense a little spark he couldn't quite reach.

It was like it only existed in the corner of Nicholas’ vision; whenever he would look directly at it, it would disappear. When he looked away, it would appear again. It felt familiar, the little golden light, like it was a friend—

Oh, that's what it was. The fact that they were still holding onto it was surprising to him. Maybe they did share the same feelings after all.

He had coaxed the little spark closer and closer, weaving his practice into suggestions that would lead them to him, until he could almost touch it. Except when was right in front of him, he couldn't. Why couldn't he take it? It was his, after all.

“--? Nick, hold on.”

With the sound of a familiar voice, Nicholas roused to a state of semi-consciousness, but that meant the spark vanished, leaving him in the dark once again. Except now he could feel. And everything hurt.

He felt his body let out a small noise of pain. “Hey, you're gonna be alright.” A warm hand touched his face, and he was so shocked at the feeling of something not painful that his eyes slowly opened. His vision took awhile to clear up while a slightly feminine voice kept speaking. Large brown eyes swam into view. Noah?

No, Taylor. “I'm gonna cut this one rope, and I'll try to catch you, but we might take a fall–”

He couldn't hear the rest because he was too focused on the feeling of gravity pulling him down. It quickly stopped, but not before someone let out a noise of pain. He then felt his feet touch solid ground, and Taylor took all of his weight onto themselves.

Except then he was flying again - no, falling. Everything hurt more when Nicholas felt his body connect with a hard surface, almost knocking him out again, but that darkness went away when an ear piercing shriek roused him more to consciousness.

Taylor. Taylor was hurt.

Nicholas pushed himself up and looked through the curtain of his tangled and bloody hair. He managed to see Taylor, saw their eyes connect with his, until a shadow descended over them. All he saw of their attacker was blood-red antlers, and his heart dropped.

He screamed in pain and terror and anger as he launched to his feet. He managed to land a swing despite being drunk on pain and blood loss. The figure, this new leader of the cult, stumbled backwards, and then a long, branch-like arm snagged him and threw him further away.

Nicholas fell to his knees next to Taylor. “Tay?” he shouted, rolling them over. “Taylor!” Their brown eyes were wide, unseeing, but he could feel their pulse beating frantically under his fingers. They would jerk and moan occasionally, like they were experiencing a nightmare. They were under some malediction.

“Maledictions are just what we call dark practice,” Granny had told Nicholas several years ago, when he was just starting to learn the practice. “These are mostly spells that are used to hurt people, like a curse or what ordinary people might call a hex.”

Nicholas looked up at the sound of a roar that used to haunt his nightmares.

Despite facing two paranormal entities, the cult leader was somehow still standing. It was almost like watching the fight between Noah and the Black Stag all those years ago. But that meant there was only one way to defeat the Stag, if he really was possessing the cult leader. Just like last time.

And to save Taylor from the Hollowing, he’d have to kill the Vessel the only way he could.

“That sounds intense,” Nicholas had replied that night with Granny. “Have you ever done a dark spell like this?”

“No,” Granny had replied, “they can steal something from the practitioner. You might not even feel it, but the malediction can take something from you. The darker the malediction, the bigger the sacrifice.”

Using what little of his inner power he had left, Nicholas scooped a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his palms. “Come denizens of the dark earth, banish the evil and let it be no more,” he muttered into his hands. He then ran and jumped onto the Vessel’s back, earning a surprised, unearthly shriek. He wrapped his hands around the man’s throat, digging his now-black fingers into the soft flesh.

YOU CANNOT KILL US.

“No, but we can stop you. And we’ll keep stopping you from coming back, again and again, until you finally give up,” Nicholas hissed into the Vessel’s ear.

WE WILL NEVER GIVE UP, FOR WE ARE THE VERY BEST AT WAITING.

“Then you can wait in Hell, motherfucker.”

Nicholas squeezed his fingers tighter around the Vessel's throat, speaking the spell he had learned those several years ago, despite being warned of the consequences. “May the righteous triumph over he who walks the untrue path. With this sacrifice, I bind your suffering. May you eternally wither.”

And under Nicholas’ fingers, the cult leader began to rot away, until nothing was left except the wet slap of skin and bone hitting the ground.

Nicholas looked up at Noah, who was shifting into his humanoid form. He could hear Folio limping towards them, and could hear Jolly’s song fading, meaning that they were all okay. All his family was safe.

He turned to look at Taylor, who was stirring to life. Nicholas let go of the cloak, breathing out a sigh of relief as the last scraps of his essence slipped away.

And everything went black.

Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!

[magebastard]

(ok thank you so much @possumsunshine for making this big fat wayhaven detective questionnaire i had FUN doing it)

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE

Name: lane m. wheatley

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Love interest: mason

Best friend: unit bravo all of them

Main skill: people

Secondary skill: science

Main personality trait: genuine

Secondary personality trait: easygoing

Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: wants to protect people

Relationship with Rebecca: bad so bad laughably bad

Relationship with Bobby: ex

Verda or Tina?: verda

Murphy bite?: neck

Murphy’s fate?: captured

Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: mason she panicked

GENERAL

Name: lane marshall wheatley

Nickname: detective (affectionate)

Birthday: december 8th

Age: 27

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Hair color: honey blonde

Eye color: dark brown

Height: 5’1

Piercings: a few holes in her ears and her septum but she very rarely wears the septum ring

Tattoos: a rat on her left thigh, a stick and poke that says dunkin donuts on the inside of her left ankle

Clothing Style: smart. blazers and slacks. very shiny loafers. big bulky wristwatch. christopher moltisanti from the sopranos.

Apartment Style: dark. but fully furnished by bulk trash day

STATS

Personality:

Charming | Intimidating

Impulsive | Cautious

Sarcastic | Genuine

Friendly | Stoic

Easygoing | Stubborn

Traits:

Heart | Mind

Optimist | Pessimist

Team Player | Independent

Skills:

Main Skill: people

Second Skill: science/technology

By the Book | Bend the Rules

KEY DECISIONS

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: wants to protect people

Murphy bite: Wrist | Neck | None

Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped

Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

Love Interest: mason

Why them?: ok time to be A Bit Much™️ but she immediately identifies herself in mason. like felix and nate are open and kind which she tries to embody, and adam respects her so long as she does her job which she understands and appreciates. she doesn’t understand or relate to any of them in a romantic sense. with mason she sees that ‘oh, he likes to hook up and flirt. he’s kind of grumpy but that’s fine i also pretty much exclusively only hook up and flirt. so that could happen.’

Bold, shy, or mixed?: bold

What were their first impressions of each other?: for lane, mason immediately pissed her off. she was very stressed out by the case and rebecca’s sudden appearance and adam’s attitude, so her patience was so thin and she just didn’t care about much beyond solving the mystery of the murder. she thought he might have seen her in a weak spot and pointedly ribbed her because of it so she was like “i literally just need to learn to ignore this man.”

for mason, it was a weird mixed bag, because he could pick up on lane’s reluctance to work with a team—especially rebecca’s team. with that impression in mind, he sees her cast all of her personal feelings aside for the sake of solving the case and protecting the town, and he relates to that instinct. other than that, he was generally annoyed that they had to work with her

What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?: everything for sure but specifically their favorite features -

for lane: mason’s freckles and his long nose and hands. mentally, it’s his honesty and sense of humor

for mason: lane’s eyes, cheeks when she smiles, legs. mentally, it’s her open mindedness and protective nature

What do they do to spend time together?: they go on walks, lane tries to find mason’s favorite music, they watch movies, they go on long drives, they sit at the lighthouse, they watch sunsets together, they stare at the moon

What is their favorite memory together?: they make a lot! the first time they quietly sit together on the roof of the warehouse becomes especially important to them both over time

What are their love languages?: touch, quality time, lane is half in/half out on words of affirmation

How do they handle being apart from one another?: ok deep romance mason feels the brunt of hypersensitivity with also the ache of loss so he mostly sulks and sticks to his room. lane kind of walks around on autopilot. not really realizing it, but definitely experiencing heavy brain fog and going home and berating herself for being needy but also crying

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: they don’t really argue! mason doesn’t really think not to speak his mind and lane is very communicative and easygoing. they bicker when one of them ends up in avoidable danger, but it usually ends with a quiet “i need you to stay safe.” something w that sentiment

What does their future look like?: traveling and a lake house. staying with unit bravo through thick and thin. lane turns when she’s 29, and they stay in wayhaven until she turns about 45 and eyebrows start to raise.

Anything else you’d like to share: they do get married. it’s a very small and very private ceremony that doesn’t really matter much to either of them but conceptually being husband and wife feels very funny and novel and also just makes sense

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP

Best friend: i cannot choose but for this instance i will go with nate

Why them?: they talk a lot about literature and food and music and lane bids on antique furniture for nate because he doesn’t know how to use ebay. it’s a very precious friendship for them both

What were their first impressions of each other?: lane is weary of nate because he’s so charming that she worries that maybe he’s TOO confident. it passes when he gives that exasperated vibe off over felix being overtly outgoing in like a “oh he’s the parent” kind of way. he also has this comforting presence and she worries that he assumes she needs to be comforted. nate is weary of lane because while he’d never assume that someone is incapable at first glance, lane looks like a stiff wind would blow her over and that she hasn’t slept in a year. also his first genuine sight and impression of her is this tiny person taking a coffee pot apart piece by piece and grumbling very angrily to herself.

What do they do to spend time together?: nate purchases period piece luxury furniture and sometimes it is not in the best condition so lane and nate restore old furniture together. they debate about shakespeare and different genres of music. sometimes they play together. they swap recipes and while nate doesn’t gossip much, he always listens to station drama over tea/coffee.

Anything else you’d like to share: nate is the first person lane talks to about becoming a vampire. she knows he has his own reservations and she needs to hear them. also lane, nate and felix paint each other’s nails every few weeks. adam has an open invitation that he cashes in maybe twice a year.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Rebecca: bad! they are strangers to each other and also very sad reflections of one another. rebecca makes lane feel so small without even trying

Relationship with Rook: rook was as beloved in wayhaven as lane is now, if not more so. she hears about him in stories that every adult in town seem to know. he’s her hero and she’s always a bit devastated that she never got to know him. lane had a crisis of identity in her sophomore year of college and suddenly the stories she’d always heard felt like a calling to try to be good like rook. this ends up being why she declared her major in forensic science and started working towards becoming a detective like he was

Relationship with Bobby: it’s pretty much fine. neither of them were great when they were together and lane feels a bit bad now because she definitely used him. he did the same, for a few reasons. they’re okay now, but lane kind of feels kind of weird about the 8 months they dated.

Relationship with Verda: they are science best friends. they drink wine on the porch on summer nights, and lane babysits the kids when sol and eric need a night off

Relationship with Tina: very close. your best coworker friend who you start spending time with outside of work and then you realize that you are almost spending all of your time together with them actually. lane’s spent the last two years worth of holidays with the ponames

Relationship with the Mayor: not great! she’s very ‘by the book’ but always takes the chance to snark him. used to egg his house as a teen

Relationship with Capt. Sung: she sees him as a weird general manager at work and can be fine with small and idle chatting when they run into each other at town functions

Relationship with Haley: haley and lane hooked up a lot when lane and bobby broke up. they were band kids in high school together and it’s a very important friendship for lane

Relationship with Elidor: she is so comforted by this fae man. they talk science, they chat about personal dreams, huge hugs.

Relationship with Tapeesa/Vieno: lane has a friendly relationship with vieno! they call her buddy and she internally is like “i am! i am your buddy!”

Relationship with Unit Alpha: dunks on maaka for making fun of nate and adam. they’re pretty blunt and open and she likes that energy a lot

Relationship with the Maa-alused: a lot of guilt over them losing their home. lane gets the vibe that falk was flirting but she didn’t want to assume but also she was into it. devastated by the fact that she could have saved sanja if she hadn’t let her feelings cloud her sense of logic.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?):

this is. a lot. (CW death and vehicular trauma) there was a boy who lane grew up with, who lived in the house across the street from her childhood home. by far, her best friend. they started dating freshman year of high school, and ended up in the same university, still together. lane was a comm major until her sophomore year and the two of them started a band in high school that became the band that lane was in for years.

in their sophomore yr of college, he proposed and lane said yes, of course, they had NO plan or any idea outside of the band of what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. that same year, they ended up in a car crash and he did not make it. this is what triggered lane to kind of lose a lot of her sense of identity. she found comfort in stories about rook and decided that—with no direction, who would be better to emulate than her hero? her partner’s name was david, they were soulmates and ya she still misses him

other than that, the two other guys that were in the band who she has not seen since the funeral. i have this idea in my head of writing the scene where they visit and meet unti bravo which would be entirely for me and my own little rat brain

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: very laid back and open/honest. easygoing

Strengths: very detail oriented, can spot the faintest whiff of a pattern and connect dots with sparse evidence. emotionally driven to the point that she pushes herself beyond her limits to do a job well. very technologically savvy

Weaknesses: emotionally driven lmao cannot separate herself from a case once she’s started, feels personally responsible for everyone she could not save. bottles up her anger until she has no choice but to deal w it via crying.

Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: somewhere on the east coast. near a wawa

What is their personal history?: lane is a town stray. she had her house with nannies and agency babysitters who weren’t invested in her emotional growth and well-being, so her defacto family is uh all of wayhaven. neighbors, mailmen, friends parents, shop owners. she connects as much as she can with everyone in town. she drifts a lot between them, and after the accident she realizes that she would do anything to protect these people

If they weren’t a detective, what would their dream job be?: if rook were never a detective, lane would have probably leaned less on stories of his heroism. she probably would have stuck closer to her friends and tried to commit to making music her full time job

Anything else you’d like to share: she picked up smoking very young and it’s genuinely surprising to people that she has never questioned why she does it or that she’s never had any intention of quitting ever

RANDOM FACTS

Zodiac sign: sagittarius

Hobbies: furniture restoration, making music, walking, cooking/baking

Likes: a funky little bass line, marlboro menthols, giving piggy back rides, painting walls, being a lab tech and assistant for verda, sitting on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night

Dislikes: arguing, loud noises, when it gets too hot outside, when it gets too cold outside, when she catches someone in a lie and they continue to deny it

Drink of choice: black coffee w a little cinnamon mixed in the grounds

Starbucks order: 6 shot latte w soy

Favorite food: grilled eggplant

Favorite color: this color is called black bean it’s this

Favorite music: not to be annoying but truly all of it there is something she can enjoy in every genre but early 2000’s rnb and hard core punk probably

Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): she loves a rom com but also thrillers. her favorite movies are muppets treasure island and ratatouille

Favorite season: spring!

Anything else you’d like to share: her car’s name is Hank