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msookyspooky · 2 months

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Fours a Franchise

Part 16

wordcount: 8,613

(Yeah, don't listen to me when I say I'll update soon; I'm a giant fuckin liar. Srry oops ♡)

It was the next evening in Woodsboro. Barely a day after the tragedy that hit this town once again for the first time since the 90's. Dewey had to make a press statement as Sheriff and or the one in charge of the case. In a 24 hour period, on top of the killings that already took place, he had to state the victim's of this senseless brutality. 6 victims dead in the last 24 hours, 1 suspect dead and multiple injured…And 3 suspects missing.

After stating the victims names outside the hospital…He warily looked up a few times in case of…Well. In case of freaking falling corpses like what happened with YN's publicists a few short days ago. He then gave the conclusion of his speech to wrap up this chaos that seemed to never end. Anxiety biting at him. Feeling like a young boy displaying a D minus grade card in front of the whole class…

He subtly licked his lips a bit and swallowed hard as he tried to think. His mouth was incredibly dry all the sudden as he tried to force out what needed to be said to make his town feel reassured.

“...Citizen's of Woodsboro...This was a senseless and awful tragedy. The threat is under control-”

The press yelled out mid sentence, “Sheriff Riley! But it took how many lives to get it under control? Why didn't the police act sooner?”

Dewey fumbled, a tight expression on his face as he spoke into the mic, “Our deputies tried tirelessly and it took us longer than we expected. It's not easy trying to find someone in a mask-”

“Why was a party allowed last night where one person was found dead?” Someone else demanded.

“He was…The victim was killed after and we…We didn't know of the party or we'd shut it down! Obviously just-” He stammered and tried to calm himself.

Dewey was still reeling. Anytime he thought of that party; he'd forever see the dead lifeless eyes of Randy's corpse. He spaced out a moment with all the questions, all the accusations. Judy and a few others looked at him to give an answer to the overbearing crowd.

He rolled his teeth over his bottom lip and decided to just cut the crap and say what he needed. Because this was too much. It was all too damn much. He didn't even get the courtesy of mourning Randy's death and YN's betrayal without being strong for the entire World.

He spoke up again. Ignoring the questions to cut to the chase.

“Young kids with their entire lives ahead of them died this week. Good hardworking men just trying to provide for their families. Just trying to make a life for themselves and their loved ones. All 3 very good friends of mine.” A hushed whisper sounded in the microphone as Dewey's face scrunched thinking of his two detectives and Randy. “A woman that…” He faltered, gazing at the hospital behind him and gestured with his hand. “...Whose body was thrown onto a news van right here.”

His voice caught a bit of tense anger as he pointed his finger at the podium while speaking. “Even my own wife, Gale Riley formerly Gale Weathers, was stabbed in the shoulder last night. All of this…It…” He got tongue tied once more before taking a deep breath. A fine line between showing strength and being pitiful he had a hard time treading right now.

All eyes on him as he could feel the heat from the lights and see his reflection in cameras.

He looked at the crowd to let it sink in with a pause to catch his bearings. Only the mic ringing from being too close to it, sounded along with cameras clicking.

“...As your Sheriff, I took this job under oath to make sure that 1996 never happened in this town again. It may have happened at Windsor College in Ohio or in Hollywood but not here in our quiet and peacefully small California town.” He paused, gazing at the crowd. Tired. Dark downset eyes cast heavily at all the microphones and lights. At the cameras recording his every move. His every failure. All he ever wanted was to protect the innocent and in his eyes he failed miserably.

He took a breath and took off his hat. “Which is why… I'm resigning as Sheriff. I take full responsibility for my department's failure in stopping this before it became too late. That's not on my deputies but on me. Their lives are on my hands and I can't express enough remorse.”

Chatter erupted as so many reporters badgered to ask questions. Judy's jaw dropped. Her standing by having recovered from her vest protecting her this morning. She looked flabbergasted at his resignation as well as a few other deputies.

He descended off the small makeshift stage near the podium.

So many voices. A man yelling, “Sheriff Riley! Why are you resigning? Do you think your actions killed those kids?”

“Because it's time for someone else to take over. Someone new.” Was all Dewey gave as he tried to make his way to the hospital doors.

“Sheriff Riley! Sheriff! Can you give out the name's of the suspects and give a final statement on their identities? Are they apprehended or deceased?” A female reporter pressed as he got

“Not at this time we can't make a statement. But they are under control.” He tried shoving past as Judy and a few others forced the vulture media back.

He heard a woman ask, “Where's YN!? Sheriff Riley, is YN alive?”

He froze at the door…

Of course they'd ask. YN was an American icon. You couldn't see the mask without the survivor who seemed to be attacked every time. Her name is always gracing the headlines. Her book on survival was a New York Times Best Seller last year. Of course, with everyone else accounted for, they were dying to know where the IT girl was? Where was the final girl? Where was YN?

And Dewey couldn't answer. Not right now, as he shoved through the hospital doors while Judy and a few other deputies held the media back. All before Judy ran after the man she worshiped once fully inside.

“Sheriff!” She called out, her feet thudding in the quiet hospital hallway. “Sheriff, wait-”

Dewey stopped and turned to give her a sad smile, holding his hat in his hands. “It's just Dewey now, Deputy.”

He felt like a kicked puppy. A small child. A weak man. Standing there forcing a smile while his chest ached and he rang his hat in his hands.

Judy spiraled. Big eyes buggier in appearance and mouth open trying to find excuses.

“This wasn't your fault! If Gal- Mrs. Riley, had followed police protocol an-and Mr. Meeks and Miss YN would have had more faith in you and-” She rushed out in a stammer. Trying to reason with him. But his mind was made up.

“Listen…” He softly gave. His dark eyes softened as well matching his tone. “It is. Randy and…They were right. Gale was right. There were so many mistakes I made that could've saved a lot more people had I not been so darn eager to follow the books.”

“The books are in place for a reason. They save lives.” She furiously shook her head, thin blonde brows scrunched in distress. “You can't resign! You can't; Woodsboro needs you. We need you…I need you.”

“No.” Dewey sighed and kept that smile of resignation. “No. You don't Judy. You're one of the best officers I've had the pleasure of working with. In fact, it won't shock me if you become Sheriff one day.”

“Sheriff…” She looked touched. “But Sheriff Riley-”

“Ah, it's Dewey please.” He corrected her with a warm oblivious smile.

“Dewey…” She said his name with sincere fondness. Inching closer as her small stature looked up at him. “I…You were, are, the best Sheriff. The best boss. A good friend and…I can't help feeling…Well more…”

“...More?” Dewey raised a brow. “Like family?”

“No like…Like you deserve better.” She got even closer. “Like, if you and I are apart I'd feel like the world isn't right. I care about you…I just wish Gale and others treated you the way you deserve.” She whispered just getting closer standing on her toes.

“Well, I care about you too, Judy. You're a very good friend.” He gave in a much more casual tone than she did.

He just thought she was a bright eyed young woman looking for a big brother figure. He always thought Gale was overreacting when she got jealous.

"Wes is…Wes admires you. He loves when you drive him around in the police car sometimes.”

Dewey smirked, “Yeah, he's a good boy. Gonna be just like his Mom one day.”

“But what if he could have someone more…Masculine to look up to? A man around the house. A father figure.”

Dewey looked confused where she was going but mumbled, “Well, that would be a good idea. A boy needs his Dad and all... Well, or a Dad.”

“Exactly…” She gazed at him in a way that it seemed his brain was finally clicking wasn't appropriate. “And what if…” She softened her voice. “That father figure could be someone he already knows?”

She leaned up, her lips going in as Dewey looked down with a confused look.

For the first time he was taken aback at her display. “Deputy Judy?” He gasped out and stepped away out of reflex.

“Dewey!”

Gale's voice rang out down the hall. Judy stepped back with a blush and Dewey instinctively took 2 more steps away just to be safe.

“Gale! What are you doing?” Dewey cleared his throat and quickly asked. “You should be in bed.” He commented seeing his injured wife in fashionable attire and heels instead of a hospital gown with her injured shoulder.

“I'm free to go. Even if I'm not, I'm not staying in a hospital just laying in bed for a shoulder wound. I can do that at home.” She waved him off.

Gale gave an annoyed look at Judy as Judy's flushed face soured at the other female. Gale raised a brow and demanded, “You mind giving me space with my husband, Deputy.” More rhetorical than an actual question.

Judy scowled before looking at Dewey, “Take care, Dewey. I'll make sure everything is in order.”

Judy marched off and Gale raised a brow, “The hell was that?”

“N-Nothing.” Dewey mumbled with his eyes downcast; unsure how to tell his wife he was no longer Sheriff. Judy's odd attempt was the least of his concerns.

“Whatever.” Gale mumbled and urgently tried to tell her husband, “Look, I just got off the phone with Karla. She said she talked to YN, so if you just track-”

“...Gale.” Dewey tried saying but as she kept talking he sighed and subtly rolled his tense shoulders.

She continued, “- And if we get to actually talk to YN, we can find out just how involved she was and get to ‘you know who’. Both of them. I can also prove to you that-”

“Gale.” He interrupted his wife. “I'm not Sheriff. This isn't my problem anymore.”

…

At first Gale took it as a joke. Her head reeling back with that bewildered smirk before it slowly fell. “What?...Dewey, what? Whaddya mean you're not Sheriff!?”

“Shh!” Dewey gently took her arm to go towards her room that she technically was not discharged from yet for some much needed privacy. Just a few doors away down the hall.

“Answer me, Dewey! You resigned? What the hell for?” She demanded not even all the way in the room yet.

“Because I failed, Gale.” He firmly replied. “I failed. I failed you, I failed Randy, I failed YN-”

Gale rolled her eyes, “YN failed us.”

Dewey didn't even argue with that. Eyes downcast with a deep frown.

And for a hot minute. Dewey tried not to be too emotional near her today but he knew that his wife knew how much your betrayal killed him. In fact, this morning he went and sobbed violently in his police cruiser after staring numbly at the parking lot. Crying as much as he did when Tatum died. In a way, losing you was like losing another sister. He wasn't as close to you as Tatum, God no. Of course not. He didn't help raise you like he did her but damn…Did it still hurt.

She sighed, trying to find patience.

“...Dewey. I just think you're jumping the gun.” She looked about and gave a hissed whisper, “For fucksake. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are alive and free. YN knew they were and is with them somewhere. Even if she isn't helping them, then she's in danger. This is not the time to hang up the badge!”

“Well it is for me.” He walked away from her to stand near the bed. “...I can't do it, Gale. It's gonna be hard to face anyone. To face Karla and Mindy and Chad and my Detective and Deputies family's…Jill.”

“Pfft.” Gale blew air past her lips with an eye roll.

Dewey raised his head, confused and offended. “What?”

“...Doesn't make sense.”

“I know but we'll catch them. I shouldn't have let them go. I failed-”

“No, damn it!... Jill.” Gale lowered her voice.

Dewey looked bewildered, “What about Jill?”

Gale looked about, then whispered. “Let's just say, I don't think YN is telling the full story and neither is Jill Roberts.”

“Excuse me??” Dewey looked at his wife like she was crazy! Sweet Jill? What could she possibly be hiding?

“She's lying, Dewey.” She reaffirmed. “They're both lying about different things…But just because YN was lying her ass off does not mean she was lying about Jill. Broken clock is right twice a day and all that.”

“Oh Gale! Are you seriously after another scoop? What? Like YN all over again. Going after a girl so much younger-”

“And I was right about YN, wasn't I?!” Gale sauntered towards him angrily, “I have been in this line of work longer than you've been on the force, I was doing this when you were hitting puberty, and I can smell bullshit a mile away…Jill is a fucking liar.”

Dewey stuttered with an outraged glare, “That's!-... It's...Prove it, then. What makes you think Jill who was never even on Randy's suspect list could do something so awful.” He folded his arms raising a brow to try and look smug and sure of himself but it wasn't working very well.

She pointed to her phone in her notes app. “Times are not adding up, Dewey. How convenient Jill went to Kirby's when her Mom was murdered.”

“I can't believe you right now, that-”

She glared at him with those icy blue eyes a foot from him. “Listen to me, damn it.” She practically growled through gritted teeth. “Jill called Kirby less than an hour before Kirby left her house; right? Kirby goes to the party for roughly 2 hours before Randy gets killed and the party is over. Jill is supposed to be grounded. She goes to Kirby's while Mrs. Roberts is murdered in front of Judy AFTER Perkins and Hoss are killed.”

Dewey's expression soured at the thought. “Yeah, after Judy drops off YN, confiscates her gun and YN drove off during Mrs. Roberts murder…Guilt and evading probably. Especially if her buddies did it and…Randy.” He couldn't say their names without raging. Just couldn't.

Gale snapped her fingers. “Hey, you're not focusing on the right thing.” She pointed to her screen, “Look at the time frame…Where the fuck was Jill?”

“She went to Kirby's.”

“... When? Because if the timeline matches up; Kirby was still at the party when Perkins and Hoss were murdered. According to Jill; Kirby opened the door for her…Now, how the fuck is that possible unless Jill was at the house way sooner than she claims?”

“A key?”

Gale gave her husband a look, “Then that mean she's lyyyiinnggg.” She mocked with a ‘duh' expression. She urgently continued, “Kirby could not have opened the door for her AND her avoid the murders unless she was there for a long time. Mrs. Robert's acted like Jill was in her room…So how do we know she wasn't still at home? Now, if she was hiding from the killer, Judy and back up would've found her. She would've ran to them for help. She wouldn't have casually went to her fucking friends house near midnight after cops were killed and there was no way she could've drove by and not seen Perkins body…Unless…She was hiding from cops and fleeing the scene after she slit her own Mother's throat.”

“Jesus Christ, Gale!” Dewey scoffed and paced the room, “That's insane! Do you even hear yourself? Are you…Are you suggesting Jill did this? Not Billy and Stu or Charlie but Jill?? That she killed her own mother!?”

“Be quieter, would you?...Why not?” Gale demanded. She lowered her voice, almost pleading with him. “Dewey, you know as well as I do we both don't trust YN after last night. Okay? No shit. We don't. But YN's times add up against the killer unless she really was working with those guys…Okay, give you that. Or they did recruit Charlie. Fine, got it…But eyewitnesses saw Jill and Charlie getting hot and heavy near a park while she was supposed to be on again and off again with Trevor.”

“How do you even know that?? And that's a breach of privacy on a teen girl's romantic life!”

Gale shrugged the best she could with one shoulder, “I have my sources. It's teens; they talk. Besides, there is no privacy when you could be making out with a murderer…Charlie seemed to have a giant crush on Kirby but how convenient Trevor, Jill's ex, got by far the worst end of the shitty stick.”

He grimaced, “...Like James in 1996.”

“Uh huh.” Gale agreed. “We get it. They were recreating kills. But…Why James? Jealousy? From who? Charlie?...Jill? Why was Trevor assigned James' role? All roles add up so why him?”

Dewey raised a brow. “To…Well…He was Jill's boyfriend? But…”

“Yeah. Jill was the survivor…How would they know that?”

Dewey stared.

“Not only did Jill hold animosity towards him for cheating according to everyone but one of the girls first killed was supposedly his fling…And most of all…The implication."

"Implication?"

Gale grinned in excitement at him, "Jill was always meant to be YN! Not Kirby or YN herself. Jill. Jill survived because she was planning to fucking survive! Why the flying fucking Hell would she be spared by Billy and Stu?”

“But she was barely conscious when we arrived on scene!” Dewey's head was spinning but he just couldn't quite believe what his wife was suggesting. It was diabolical! “S-she wasn't. They tried to kill her here in the hospital…” He quietly mumbled. His brain went in a direction he didn't like.

Gale ranted, “All their friend group, and somehow, in a house with two known murderers Jill got the least amount of damage other than YN and Kirby. We can't even count that because they got life threatening injuries while Jill and I got stabbed in the shoulder and roughed up…Why? To keep me alive to write a story and her too. Jill got banged up but nothing serious. Nothing that would kill her.”

“But!...I-” He went to talk but faltered.

“Charlie got stabbed only one time directly in the chest. In a relaxed position to stab his heart. People fighting don't get stabbed like that! Dewey, you're an officer, you know that in order for Charlie to get that stab wound he had to be relaxed. Like…It was planned and either he let them stab him or he was betrayed and relaxed.”

Dewey opened and closed his mouth. Damn, he knew his wife got to the pit of a story but lord this was…

”Gale, then…Then that just means Billy and Stu betrayed their protégé! Right?...Right!?” He desperately pleaded, not wanting to go where Gale's mind was heading because it felt so far fetched to him.

Gale gnawed at her lip. She walked about the room a moment before lowering her voice and mumbling out. “I know it sounds insane but think about it. YN and those two assholes got just about hacked up yet they were the murderers? No fucking way knowing what we know; how did Jill fight off 3 people as a victim? 2 grown men and a grown woman with self defense training. If Jill was unarmed; How? How does a 5'2 teen girl with no weapon fight 2 grown men that were trying to kill her and they supposedly had knives and a gun?…There's no goddamn way, Dewey!” Gale smacked her phone on the bed getting riled up just talking about this.

Dewey swallowed and couldn't exactly come up with an argument.

Gale just paced the room, her heels clacking as she continued. “YN was miraculous enough to keep surviving these attacks over the years UNLESS…” Her face lit up in realization. “Son of a bitch…Unless she had help all these years. Oh my fucking God. I knew it! James and Tim. They don't fucking exist, they're just aliases for Billy and Stu. Windsor I saw them and fucking knew it, god damn it, I did! I bet they were in Hollywood too. It's how she survived two huge men attacking her.” Gale ranted in harsh whispers; almost elated as her brain was piecing things together perfectly to her.

Dewey had the picture of YN and them. Men that were strangers but now he realized was evidence of Billy and Stu. A lie he kept from his wife he didn't dare share now. He ran a hand over his face…It was too much. It was all speculation. It was…It was crazy! YN and Billy and Stu were what?? The victims? And Jill killed her own mother?!

He replayed it…Billy and Stu not being the murderers this time. You lying is a misunderstanding for hiding them. Charlie and Jill being the real killers…Jill. Killing all her friends. Her own mother. Trying to kill YN alone it just-

“...No.”

Gale scoffed with a sneer, “No??”

“No. There's no way! No way Jill is in any way involved.”

“Are you joking?” Gale put her hand of her good arm on her hip, wincing when she moved. “Okay, but why would Jill know where I was stabbed when we hadn't seen each other or talked?...How Dewey? Explain that.”

Dewey shook his head at the idea that the sweet teen girl he already felt protective over could do this instead of two known murderers. And YN, who he couldn't trust now. Gale just looked more irritated at his dismissal as she continued.

“Why the fuck was she visiting YN at 4:32 in the morning in fucking ICU, Dewey!? Seriously. They aren't that close and Jill was supposed to be just so weak and heavily injured. Get a goddamn grip!”

“So what?” He threw his hands out. “You're defending YN now after all these years of damning her? All these years of being so-so…So…Hateful to her and now you're changing your tune?!” He spoke a bit louder than necessary and stammered his accusations.

Gale argued with a haughty look. “No…Maybe!” She released a frustrated groan. “I damned her for lying, which I was right, but I am a facts and getting the truth out sort of journalist before anything else and Jill's story has so many holes it's like a screen door! YN was yelling at us, begging us this morning to listen to her side-”

“And why should we!?” Dewey uncharacteristically lost his temper as Gale blinked in surprise. “She lied to us, Gale! She lied for over a decade! Made you look like a bad journalist, knew my sister's murderers were alive, defended them last night!” He was overstimulated, heartbroken, stressed, bombarded with too much information.

Gale rubbed her temple as a tense silence fell over the couple in the empty hospital room. She sucked air through her nose and told him. “Look…I am not team YN right now either. She lied, I was right. As usual…But that's even more of a reason to listen to me when I say Jill is not normal and we need to wrangle YN in for questioning and capture Billy and Stu in the process. Something is beyond off about her and her phony sweet American pie bullshit act.”

“You're being so…You!” He exclaimed.

“And what the hell does that mean?”

Dewey paced and the tension just gave way. “You! You always do this. You care more about your career and the next big revolutionary story to put your name in lights than you do people's privacy and feelings. YN, no matter what, made her damn choice and frankly I don't want to arrest her. I don't because I still care about her even though I never want to see her again! That's my weakness, my EMPATHY, something you don't have!”

Gale reeled back a moment. Blinking in shock at her husband's harsh words.

Dewey gripped his hair, his mental state just about having had enough the last few days as he didn't care about his volume. “I can't do this anymore! It's why I'm resigning this coming week. I want those two in prison but I am not hunting them down for the rest of my life. Whatever happens to YN? She dug her own grave with them and it HURTS! I can't make these decisions anymore! I can't. It's why I'm done chasing after masked killers and trying to do the right thing because it's tiring trying to be good but apparently not for you because you're eager to hound a 17 year old girl that lost everything and question if she killed her own mother and friends like a heartless person!”

…

After his fit…A tense silence fell over them. Gale eyed him with mistrustful eyes. Dewey didn't mean to lash out. In fact, his heart ached just seeing the hurt look in Gale's eyes before her usual iron wall came up as a disguise to protect herself.

“Gale, honey I-”

“Don't.” She gave in a firm gravely tone. She grabbed her phone and purse he had brought her from her car last night before surgery. He wanted to take her bag, to chastise her for possibly hurting herself with her shoulder but one icy glare from her and he shrank into himself.

She stopped short of the hospital room door to tell him. “I may have my habits but so do you. You did it 15 years ago with YN and now that YN is gone; you're doing it again with this girl because you have to have someone to shelter from the guilt of not saving your sister…You are a good man, Dewey! An amazing man. Too good of one that you can't see when someone is clearly lying. All because of this fucked up misplaced guilt for Tatum and trusting people.”

Dewey stiffened. Not sure if he should be taken aback, angry or hurt at that statement. Gale was like this. She went for the jugular when hurt but that didn't make it okay in his eyes to bring up Tatum.

She was almost out the door but turned back to add one more thing. “And by the way!…The killer recorded everything; so check the harddrive on the new final girls fucking phone and see how innocent she is!”

Gale released an annoyed growl in her throat like a frustrated groan as she slammed the door and walked out.

Dewey stood there a moment…A tense moment that he sighed, then paced, then quickly wiped tears away with his sleeve and a sniff as they threatened to spring up. He hadn't even slept the last 24 hours and he was overwhelmed. Of all the times he needed his wife, it was now, and…He didn't know if he just scared her away or she was just that honed in on this case. He should be too. But he felt so damn…Weak. Powerless. Helpless.

“...The Barney Fife of Woodsboro.” He bitterly mumbled to himself. Gale's old words hurt him deeper than she knew. And she never truly apologized or truly ever told him he was good at his job. She praised his character but rarely his job as a cop only when she had to to make amends. Maybe…Because he wasn't?

He sighed heavily, a pang of heartache in his chest at having no one really. His parents were too old to put this on them, Tatum was gone, Sidney was gone, Randy was gone…Now you were gone with the people that did this. He refused to believe they didn't after 1996. And now his wife might as well be gone right now too and Judy was…Not the person to turn to after what she just tried in the hallway.

Dewey decided to visit the one person left even if they were now lingering in his mind as a falsehood.

Jill had to go into surgery again to examine and to stitch up the stab wound in her abdomen and back. To think…Billy Loomis did that. Billy Loomis.

Dewey should be happy. His wife lived and was healing even if they just argued; at least he could argue with her. Jill lived to tell her tale. Instead, he hadn't felt this low in 15 long years. Not since Fall of 1996…

He headed to Jill's room. Hanging his head as he slowly entered the room. Making sure he looked presentable. He gazed at her and it made a pang of hurt form in his chest and disbelief in his mind…YN…YN, the girl he protected. YN, the woman he saw like a sister. YN the girl who lived…Tried to kill the innocent teenage girl with the help of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher…

He didn't care what Gale said. All this time, you lied. You lied and hid them. The guys that murdered his younger sister and her best friend and all those years Dewey and Randy both said ‘No! No no no, YN would never do that!’. Him and Gale even broke up over her and you twice, once in 1997 then again when Gale went Court back in the 2000's and how hateful she had been towards you. A girl barely a woman with the whole world out to get her.

To think Gale was right all along. YN was a snake. All Dewey did was cry or go numb over this…And the idea you might have killed Randy or helped? You helped Billy and Stu kill Randy? It made him sick. Sick to his stomach; sick with himself for letting you and those two monsters get away.

Gale's rant kept replaying in his head…What if…What if YN and those two were innocent this time? But that was insane.

“Hey Dewey.” Jill gave in her usual sweet disposition. It made him feel guilt. “So…Any news of catching them?” She pleasantly asked so innocently.

He shook his head, “Sorry Jill. Not yet.” He sat in a chair next to her hospital bed and took off his hat with a heavy sigh. “I am…So so sorry. I failed, I-”

Jill gave a forced sad smile. Shaking her head she softly said, “Don't. You didn't know. I mean, who would ever think of my cousin's best friend. I mean, Billy and Stu and recruiting a guy like Charlie. Do you think YN was forced? Like, I don't know, Blackmailed? Like, if she didn't do this; they'd kill her or more people she cared about?”

Dewey looked up at the 17 year old. A glimmer of hope in his brown eyes as he tried and failed to hide how vulnerable he was right now. “I…I don't know.” He stared and thought. “Do you think so?”

It wouldn't excuse anything but it was better than you willfully killing Randy and those kids.

Jill smiled real big then quickly covered her mouth to hide it.

“Maybe?” Jill shrugged. “I know she attacked me when I went to visit her but Billy REALLY attacked me. Maybe she thought I was them?” She pouted and showed her stitches under her gown. “I just want to find her and talk to her and know why? Why would she do this? If she was forced; we can help her.”

Dewey looked hopeful and for the first time in 24 hours had a small smile. He stood and patted Jill's knee. “You're a good kid. Just get some rest okay? Leave all these questions to us. Need anything?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, not at all. I'm just sorry I tried to grab your gun-” She fidgeted with her blanket and grimaced in that sweet voice. “I just, wasn't feeling myself and was so upset my friends' murderers might get away.” Her eyebrows went up and she looked gutted but no tears in her eyes. Such a strong kid.

“Oh Jill.” He shook his head. “It's alright. I even thought…Well…Who can prepare for something like that? And I have almost 20 years of police training under my belt.” He went to shut her door. “You're forgiven, just get some rest.”

She smiled as he shut her door and it just left a whirlwind of emotions in him. A part of him wanted to find you if you did in fact do all this against your will. If you were brainwashed or they had something on you that if they died someone you cared for got hurt…But if you actually did this on your own; he didn't want to find you. It hurts entirely too much even if justice should prevail.

He saw a huge grin on Jill's face in a reflection on the door…She must just be happy he stopped by.

——————————————

Later that night, Somewhere in California away from Woodsboro. You stood on a murderers porch in the dark hanging your head over the railing.

Fuck. Everything.

You were sore, physically drained, mentally drained. And you talking to Billy made everything worse.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your face. It had been such a long day, why the hell did you get on this subject? Yeah, it felt major. Billy Loomis told you you were his and comforted you while holding your hand after being stabbed. All while he came back to rescue you AND the letter that has been eating a hole in your pocket for days now. Pretty unavoidable unsaid context here…But this felt like the worst timing by his reaction alone.

You sighed again and tried to untense your shoulders before heading back inside. Still had a dried-blood, icky hospital gown on and a jacket. You were cold, tired, thinking maybe the pill was wearing off with how sore you felt. Your joints were so stiff and skin so bruised you felt like every step was an 80 year old woman not one at 32. You just wanted to go back to sleep on Billy's frumpy couch in some comfy clothes. Maybe the recliner with tape on the arm would be better? You were tempted to nap with Stu but he was acting…Odd. And if he touched you, you were in no position to fight him off right now.

With a heavy heart and head; you dragged yourself back inside. Not eager to be near either of these men at this point. Billy pretty much tore what teeny tiny sliver of hope you had in your heart for him even if it felt stupid to begin with and Stu was not acting right in the head. But what choice did you have? Can't go to Woodsboro, and in case the cops were hunting you, you couldn't go to a family member's house or your cabin either.

You walked in. Shut and lock the door. Shrugged off your jacket with a grunt to lay it with Billy's other jackets on an old rickety chair. Billy was nowhere to be found and Stu was sleeping last you heard.

You went to sit in the recliner for just a moment. Every movement made you fatigued. Easing in with a grimace as you white knuckled the arm of the chair in your grip. God, everything hurts! It probably would for a while. You were still leery of the fact Jill could've punctured an organ or opened a stitch in your fight especially since you had only eaten a tiny bit and didn't have a bowel movement yet…You were fearful of the pain of that potentially or what to do if you did need to go to the hospital.

You eased back and tried to relax in the armchair. Closing your eyes for just a second before feeling someone near you…

…Your brow twitched at that uncanny feeling of eyes on you…

You opened them and in a flash Stu smacked his hands on either side of the arms of the chair. Essentially trapping you there as you gasped loudly. Nearly jolting in fear at the surprise.

“Stu, what the hell are you doing-”

“I know.” Was all he gave with a dark look in his blue eyes. A predatory look that reminded you way too much of that raining night at your house or him at that party at Windsor or even him holding your own gun at that motel.

“Know…What?” You whispered as you started feeling anxiety grip you. Easing back into the chair as he got closer, inches from your face.

“Don't play dumb, Sweetcheeks.” He smiled a humorless grin. “I heard everything you had to say to him on that porch just now…You two holding hands and you calling out to him, you and him bonding over your little book which I'm sure his character had a bigger role than my character if my character was even in it. The letter…Where's the letter, babe? I wanna read it.”

“Stu, just…Let me up” You swallowed.

He gave with that dangerous smile, a dark expression as his voice dropped an octave and he got closer to you. “I really wanna read it.”

“B-” Your voice caught in your throat out of fear and you yelled for the only other hope you had. “Billy!!”

“That's right, call for Billy. Billy to the fucking rescue. Billy the guy always picked first! Billy the man!” Stu lost his temper and shoved a bunch of shit off an end table and you couldn't help the wince and gasp before you tried to get up and get away and he stopped you. “Uh uh! You aren't going anywhere!”

You stared up at him with big eyes, “Stu…Just calm down. Let me go.”

“Oh yeah, tell me to calm down. Tell me, baby. That always works.” He giggled out with a lopsided evil little grin.

“Stu, please-”

He smacked the chairs arms, “HOW LONG!?” His emotions are absolutely random and chaotic. The jealous rage in Stu was nothing to be trifled with. You didn't owe him anything but you knew in his mind you did.

“Stu, I don't know what you think but me and Billy are not in some secret relationship or hiding anything-”

“BULLSHIT!”

“WE AREN'T!” You frantically yelled back pinned against that chair before. “Stu, you're scaring me. Please.”

He smirked but no mirth was in his eyes.

Billy came out of the bathroom and you heard him going towards Stu but to your shock, Stu was that pissed. That enraged at you both. That much past turmoil bubbling to the surface. That it seemed letting Billy man handle him all those years finally exploded. You hated it but the sound felt like it didn't come from you as a shrill gasp ripped past your lips as Stu punched Billy across the face before he could lay a hand on him to get him away from you.

Stu went to swing on him again while Billy was down, going to straddle him to beat him god knows how many times. You yelled at him, “Stop it! Damn it, stop it right now!” as it fell on deaf ears and both him and Billy were trying to hit each other even in their injured states. You went to grab Stu by the shoulder and he shoved you back before a pained yelp came from you at your stitches and you collided against the chair. Damn…It hurts. You held back, not wanting them to do this but also not wanting to be injured for two nutjobs either.

You went to the kitchen moving faster than you should while injured. Trying to figure out what to do as you heard both men arguing and fighting. Stu, even injured, was a beast as he shoved Billy into a wall, actually cracking the drywall there, “You piece of shit! You knew how I felt and you did this behind my back!?” Stu yelled going to punch him and Billy dodged. “Don't love her? Isn't that what you told me a decade ago!?”

“I didn't do anything you fucking lunatic!” Billy yelled back with a red cheek where his scar you gave him was as their grappling ended up in the kitchen near you. Stuff knocked off the walls.

“Stop lying!! You wrote her a fucking letter-”

“Yeah! I did! 15 years ago! I was a fucking kid!” Billy emphasized angrily as he punched Stu but Stu tried choking him in a headlock.

“Yeah, I bet. Just like Roman, huh? And me being a scapegoat!” Stu had his arms around Billy's neck and Billy had no choice but to shove backwards in Stu's hold as you flinched when the small round table broke as they collided on top of it.

You did the only damn thing you could think of at the moment other than hitting them upside the head, let them kill each other or kill them with a knife.

They both grunted in annoyance, especially Stu, when you used the ice cold water from the sink hose and sprayed jets of water on them like 2 dogs fighting. “Enough! We don't need you both hurt, okay!? Fucking stop!”

Stu got off Billy and marched towards you. Hair wet and pissed off. Fear dropped in your stomach at the predatory way he came towards you and as soon as you went to get a knife as defense, not expecting him to come at you like that... He grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you towards him. Dropping the hose in the sink and making you helpless against him in your injured state. You were too injured to even use any self defense moves and in this position it was hard. Shoved against a counter by someone so much bigger and both wrist in his hand and the distance closed between you two. You couldn't even kick him with your stitches so sore right now.

Billy tried getting up from the broken table on the ground, bleeding from where his stitches were but not as badly as Stu was. “Sttuuu!” He warned huffing breath and getting up.

Stu was sweating. Eyes crazed and bleeding through his shirt from reopening stitches in their short but intense fight. He glared down at you so hatefully. He glared as time judt froze.

“...You're lucky some tiny part of me gives a shit about you. If not? I'd rip you apart and bleed you out like I have so many other whores.”

You stared. Not breathing as a chill ran down your spine. Because with his tone and the look in his gaze; you knew he meant it.

He jerked away to lean on the counter. In pain and panting as he hunched over and Billy leaned against the fridge near you.

Stu shook his head in a dry smile. “...All those years, man. All those years I was there for you. I protected you, I left my number, I gave you the benefit of the doubt over and over, risked my damn identity and freedom not killing your friends…Well…Someone killed them, just not me.” He chuckled wryly, hanging his head.

Billy now with a red spot on his face slowly bruising glared tiredly at Stu. You just stared before telling him, “Stu, I swear I don't know what you think-”

“I THINK?! No, I know. I know that you two apparently held hands and had a moment.”

“Because you passed out and I was scared!” You exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Billy and you share a book and he's a fan of it and a moment together and you go to him to talk and him to patch you up and him to take care of you when I've been pining for you for 15 years!” He gazed at you and his anger faded to desperation. “Fif-Teen-Fucking-Years.” He sounded out in a mumble as he stood up fully, gripping his stomach.

“Stu.”

“Don't bother. As soon as I can walk and drive and shit properly without pain; I'm out of here, man. And neither one of you will see me ever again.” He grumbled as he slowly made his way to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Billy and you were alone as he glared at you, “You just had to bring up that letter on the porch?”

You were flabbergasted, “Hey, don't do that. I didn't know he was listening, neither did you!” You felt that shrunken guilt ridden feeling even if you shouldn't.

“Yeah well, he did. Now we both gotta sleep with one eye open. Thanks for that…Fucking idiot.” He mumbled getting an ice pack from the freezer for his face that was slowly getting red and inflamed from those punches. He glared at his broken table and shook his head and went to the recliner.

You just stood in the kitchen, your mind reeling like it had so many times before with these two. You never felt more weak and alone in your life…Well, top 3 at least on the awful moments list in your head.

You walked out and noticed your jacket wasn't where you had it. You sighed to yourself knowing exactly who had it. “...I need to go talk to him. Or something. ”

Billy scoffed, “Are you stupid or nuts? He'll kill you right now and these fucking injuries I got will be for nothing.”

You rolled your eyes and laid gingerly onto the couch. Accepting maybe you needed to leave him be. Seeing the bathroom door open and Stu go to the bedroom.

That slammed door and hearing something break in HIS bedroom just sent Billy into a rage of his own.

Billy and him argued one more time over the damage to the house and Stu stealing Billy's room that ended in Billy slamming the door screaming, “FUCKER!!” In outrage at his bed being taken in his own home by a guy he was letting stay here. You had talked him down from killing Stu which earned a ‘shut your fucking mouth and mind your business’ from him and yet you both complied.

He tossed you some clothes and you finally got out of that damn hospital gown into an oversized flannel and comfy bottoms

Hours passed of awkward silence and the tv was on Rosemary's Baby. Billy had fallen asleep after 3 hours of ‘eh’ sort of grunts and shrugs as he had to redo his wrappings and had a bruise on his face. You tried to subtly clean up the mess him and Stu made but bending over wasn't a good thing for you right now.

It was…Depressing. This house trailer with outdated everything and not a homey thing in sight. Especially compared to the Meeks house you stayed in tidy but cluttered with family things like kids toys and memorabilia and the fridge had pictures and drawings and cute magnets and the house smelled good but lived in in a cozy way and the blanket was fuzzy and clean but had a hint of the scent of Mindy's hair product where she had her hair braided that morning and had slept on it before you arrived. The pictures on the walls. The scooby doo and pikachu bowls and spoons for ice cream in the cabinets…Randy's movie collection.

A tight frown in place as you sighed. Thinking all of this was just dragging you down. You didn't need that anymore than you already had.

You had no one now. The cozy homely vibe people complain of as boring is a distant memory now.

You saw Billy's room light was still on. Billy himself was asleep breathing deeply as you studied him for the longest time. His face matured so much in this decade. The shorter hair made him even more grown up looking as opposed to his longer hair he used to have. The lack of facial hair looked better on him too. Facial hair, at least that 90's goatee thin mustache combo he had, shockingly made him look like a kid that penciled it in or something. It looked out of place on his almost feminine features he had when younger. Now, with a much more chiseled jawline and bigger built frame he…Well, it was harder to remember he was that lean pretty boy with gel in his hair to sweep it back that was trying to kill you.

But Stu? He still looked so much like he always had just a bit more filled out. It was easy to remember Stu no matter how many style changes he went through.

You kept watching that light and you swore you heard a hiccuping noise that whether you liked it or not made you…Feel bad. It could've been him scoffing or anything but…The mere idea it was hurt from you hurt you in a way it shouldn't but it did.

You cursed yourself glaring at the ceiling. ‘See? This is how you get into these situations!’ Was all you could think.

You sighed softly and looked at Billy as you made a choice. Besides…You couldn't sleep and you knew damn well Billy wasn't as asleep as he acted. You were now in an oversized blue flannel Billy gave you to wear and a pair of gym style mens shorts. Nothing else to wear.

You quietly got up and crept past Billy's chair to the back part of the trailer. You almost wanted to use the restroom across from the bedroom and go back to the couch but you heard Stu still awake…And a tight frown formed as you raised your fist. You faltered before tapping on the wood with your knuckles. Stu was a loose canon and the longer this issue sat the more crazy he'd become.

#scream #stu macher #billy loomis #my writing #scream fanfiction #yn fanfic #she her yn #my stories #scream 4 #fours a Franchise

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reagi-df · 7 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 13: You weren’t supposed to get hurt

Old sketch design for my forgive me au but I’m gonna use it anyway

Donnie stares down at the screen as he types away, he's surrounded by the quietness of the lab. He's exhausted but he needs to finish what he started. It's been a rare few quiet days from having to go against any major Kraang players and he's taking this time to really get things sorted for when the time comes and he wakes up properly.

His fingers slow down on his keypad, eyes automatically looking up to his monitor showing the vital signs. Everything is stable for the moment and Donnie is grateful for that.

“Knock knock” jolting, Donnie shoots his head around and sees Raph standing there. Even though his body doesn't have any eyes, he knows from how his head is tilted he assesses Donnie.

And he doesn't like it.

“Raphael, what can I do for you at this hour” he's glad his mask hides the bags under his eyes.

“Raph could ask you the same thing” the sounds of Raphs metal feet hitting his floor as he walks closer, Donnie lets his ninpō ripple under his skin as he subtly swipes away the taps connected to the chamber.

Raph cant see.

“Why are you still up?”

“Have a lot of things to do. Projects to finish. I need to make sure our defences are up and running frantically, even if the Kraang are being strangely quiet it won't last forever and I need to make sure we're ready” Donnies hands are flying about his keypad as he speaks.

A heavy hand rests on top of his own, stilling him. Donnie looks down at the metal digits, observes the grooves and scratches that litter his brother's metal casing. A sharp prain runs through him at the thought of not seeing his oldest brother's flesh hand again but he knows it's too late now. Even if he tried it wouldn't work.

And he doesn't want to go through that again.

“You need to let me buffer out your hand again” he says absently.

Dragging his tiered eye up to these dimmed lit eyes of his brothers he hears Raph sigh. “Don, please go to sleep. I know its been hard on you but I don't want you to burn yourself out again. I can't go through watching you die right in front of my eyes. Not again.”

Looking away Donnie swallows. “That wasn't my intention.”

“I know” Raph’s hand leaves Donnie’s and he secretly mourns the loss. “But you mean a lot to us Don, we don't want you to keep hurting.”

He stubbornly refuses to look up, “I’m fine, Raph.”

“Please donnie, Le-”

“Dont!” Donnie grits out, cutting off whatever Raph was going to say.

Silence hangs in the air, tension heavy.

Closing his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose, “I'm sorry” he exhales.

Raphs gently places his hand back on Donnies broad shoulder and he leans into the touch. “I know I nag a lot, but I just don't want you to hurt”

Patting Raphs hand “I know big brother” looking up he turns to face Raph, metal hand falling from his shoulder. “Look I promise i'll go to sleep, I just need another 10 minutes”

They both stand there staring at each other, it feels like an eternity before Raph sighs again and steps back. “Okay, I know a losing battle when I see one. Im making the rounds and when I come back and you're not asleep i'm dragging your ass to bed”

Snorting, Donnie bobs his head. “Sure” a small smile forms on his face.

Head shaking fondly, Raph walks to the door but pauses before he leaves. “I meant what I said Don” turning his head around he continues “you mean a lot to us, your family and we do anything for the family.

“Yeah” his voice catches in his throat.

They’ll do anything for their family.

Nodding Raph bids him farewell, “g’night don”

“Night” he whispers.

He stands there for a few seconds before he shuts all of his projects down, he pauses with his hand hovering in the air, he feels his ninpo running through his body, he brings up the tabs containing the chamber again and walks away as he transfers them to his gauntlet.

With a quick few strides to one side of the room, Donnie presses his palm to a hidden compartment, there's a hiss as the doors open. He's glad he never told anyone about this hidden room. It's become very useful for stuff he doesn't want others to see.

The doors close firmly behind him with the lights flickering on, with a flick of his fingers the tabs are transferred to the machine connected to the chamber. “I'll be quick, then you can go back to sleep. Donnie passes his time by making sure everything is working correctly, it usually takes about 10 minutes or so, but he's dragging his feet. He talks about anything that comes to mind, about the time Mikey ended up sleepwalking into a wall, or that time he ended up floating to the ceiling and unable to get down,.

“He’s exhausted, Mikes been doing too much lately”. Donnie muses.

Donnie goes on, speaking about the time when April and he had found a stash of booze, that was strangely still in date, and got drunk. “April was cursing me out, she should've known that my metabolism is superior than hers.” he absently rubs his head from where she smacked him when he did tell her.

His feet bring him closer to the chamber, “Jr is becoming a terror, coming more and more like his mother everyday” Donnie checks the systems and the vitals. “He's learning so fast, it was enjoyable watching him talk cheekily back to April” he pauses and looks down.

“You'd like him,” he whispers.

A dull scratches his attention, turning his head Donnie sees a green hand with an IV cannula strapped to the back, tubing floating around his body. The hand drags down and his claws leave sharp grooves into the glass.

Walking up, Donnie places his own pawl onto the thick glass. Leo stares back at him with dull unseeing eyes, a mask firmly placed onto his mouth while his body is submerged in water.

“I'm sorry,” Donnie whispers as he watches those unseeing eyes flutter and shut.

“Please forgive me” he murmurs to the dead.

---------

Dropping this here for @febuwhump I was hoping id find something

Im hoping to get close to the juicy bits in Forgive Me, id love it if you'd vote for these boys in the @tmntaucompetition it'll be fun show what ive got planned 😈, as well as going up against other peoples

Again excuse my dyslexic unbetaed

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday13 #forgive me #future donatello #future leonardo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rise leo #rise donnie #rottmnt donatello #fanart #my art

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genevawrenn · 5 months

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I am just going to put this at the top : this post is going to be a long vent about missing Technoblade, please scroll on if you do not wish to read.

We are coming up on two years without him.

We are also coming up on three years since I discovered his content.

I thought I was at the point I could watch one of his videos tonight, as I used to often do when I am doing tasks or writing he was always the background noise I used. I remember calling into work when he streamed for the sheer sake of enjoying them while they happened the few times I caught them before...well. I think you know. He was the reason my passion for writing came back to life and I believed I could actually follow my lifelong dream of eventually publishing a story.

But I suppose the part I always forget about grief is the absence of the unique spirit that person brought to your life. I found his content and engaged with it instantly, developing one of the longest running fixations I have had in a good while. The sheer excitement I'd have getting the notification he went live for one of his rare streams.

I don't think it truly sunk in when he announced his diagnosis. I remember discussing it with the irl friend who got me into watching him and both of us laughed, saying he's strong enough to fight off anything.

A few months pass with his rare posts and there was always this tiny little bit of intuition I had where he never told us what severity of cancer it was. Like he was a very private guy, yes, but this seemed extra...odd.

Then I remember the way my heart sunk when 'so long nerds' popped into my notification bar. The dashing of my heart against the floor texting people as I tearfully listened to Technodad tell us the words his son Alex wished for us to hear.

Its been a long two years. Its been great ones, tbh. I found a new passion with QSMP and Hermitcraft after the finishing of DSMP [tho c!Techno will forever remain close to my heart]. I kept writing, with over half a million words in published fics on ao3 and several WIP including 3 original novels.

But the only one I ever wanted to thank for helping me find my creativity again I can't, and I never will be able to.

I miss Technoblade.

I will never stop missing him.

I wish he could have laughed with his friends for many years yet, being silently proud of their accomplishments while he messed with people on the QSMP. I wish he could have had another MCC with friends.

I wish his unique soul wasn't taken from us so soon, as we weren't done following our hero yet.

But the only thing I can do now is continue to speak his tales. The first book I properly publish, the gratitude page is going to be addressed to him. I will continue to tell others about his accomplishments and tell them to go watch his content on his Youtube channel [get him to 17 million!]! Buy some of his merch [when it comes back in stock]! Support his family & friends!

Though he would call us nerds for crying, I think its beautiful how many lives he touched and how many thousands mourned his passing. He was a light all corners of the MCYT sphere and beyond saw and respected, and not too many creators can claim such an honour.

I'll always be a Voice at my core. Even if I spend my time these days as a crow, a huevito, a ferret, a tubling, a doozer and many more, my heart will forever belong to Technoblade.

Please keep creating art and writing in his name. I love scrolling the fanart tags and adore every piece I come across with my favourite piglin in them. Please, please, please keep saying his name. Sing his legends. Make references, continue the jokes, hang out in one of his friends chats and support the people he loved.

Support those who are still here, even if your heart hurts.

It's only painful because we all loved him so much, which is a beautiful type of sorrow.

#wrenrambles #technoblade #subscribe to technoblade #technoblade never dies #techno fanart #dsmp techno #technoblade fanart #technofanart #technoblade fanfiction #technoblade fanfic #technobladefanart

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mistydeyes · 1 year

Note

May you write hyacinth + ghost? :)

Thank you so much for requesting!! This one was too good! Forewarning, I am so sorry at how potentially tragic this is like MAN I WAS TEARING UP WHILE EDITING

link to the prompt list and 1k celebration!

prompt: hyacinth - they decide to interrupt the wedding just as you're about to say your vows

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

warning: ANGST, swearing, canonical violence, ABSOLUTE PAIN AND MOURNING, no happy endings here for simon :(

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Simon Riley was never a religious man but he said a silent prayer as he entered the small chapel. He settled in a pew towards the back right of the holy place, ignoring the gazes that fell upon him. His breath was heavy on his face mask as he briefly looked at the program. He felt confided in his grey dress shirt and could feel the palms of his hands begin to sweat. He wiped them on his rayon pants as he tried to calm his nerves. Soon the crowd hushed as the wedding procession entered. Simon's eyes flickered to the groomsmen and the accompanying bridesmaids. Violet. They were wearing violet, your favorite color and the one you always envisioned for your wedding.

"Si, look at these," you smiled as you showed him a photo on Pinterest. Simon looked at the violet silk wedding dresses that complimented a smiling group of bridesmaids with orchids in their hands. "Looks nice," he mumbled before returning to his phone. You let out a sigh before responding. "I think I want those for our wedding."

Eventually, the ethereal organ music began to play a different melody and the crowd stood in response. Simon quickly joined the smiling family and friends as their gaze was turned to the door. Nothing could have prepared him for that moment. You walked out onto the aisle looking like a fucking angel. Your ivory gown floated on the ground and in your delicate hands, you held a beautifully designed bouquet with orchids, chamomiles, and hydrangeas. You looked so happy and radiant at the moment. With the softest note of the organ, you descended the aisle to your husband-to-be. Simon's heart ached as he recognized the melody, So This is Love by Emile Pandolfi. As you walked, it was as if you only were in the room with your husband as he watched a fragile tear fall down your face. His gaze followed as you ascended, taking an elegant step on the altar.

Throughout the ceremony, Simon's nerves and anguish reached a fever pitch. He felt like he was drowning as the crowd sat and the priest began the ceremony. His ears rang as he barely registered the words, "If there is anyone present, who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” If you asked him this morning what his plans were, attending your wedding was not on the list. But something, maybe it was hope, or maybe foolishness had forced him to dress and drive to the rural estate. As the priest spoke on the solemnity of marriage, Simon couldn't help but muse over the last time he ever saw you.

"Do-do you know how long you'll be gone?" you whispered through tears as he held you in his arms. "They didn't specify," he replied. and you buried your head into his chest. It was 2006 before Simon Riley was a dead man walking. It was a time when he was just a soldier who had a life and the opportunity to love his family and his fiancée. "Remember what I told you, you keep this ring so I have a reason to come back," Simon whispered as he opened your palm and placed a thick gold band into it. "Please don't go, Simon," you cried as he tried to pull away and head out the door. "I'll be back in no time, love," he replied and gave you a soft kiss before exiting out of your life forever.

Since that moment, you had believed the man you loved was dead. Rumors circulated as you found out there had been some sightings before his family tragically died in a house fire, even allegations that he had been the one but you refused to believe it. For 10 years, you looked for him on the crowded Manchester streets but you never found him. However, you were here today with the man you loved and finally had the opportunity at a happy life. Simon knew this fact as well and he tragically continued through the ceremony until the vows were to be said. As your maid of honor handed you a piece of paper, he saw the familiar sheen of a ring on your finger. He knew that ring anywhere as he had bought it with his first paycheck from the service. What struck him more though was as you turned to face your husband, you held onto a gold ring on a necklace chain before you spoke. That was his ring. The ring he gave to you before he died.

"Elliott, poets say that love finds you when you need it most. In what I believe was poetic irony, you found me as I placed flowers on a grave and cynically commented on how the ones we love leave us too quickly," you began to say and Simon began to feel his eyes burn with the prickles of tears. "While we remember those lost, today I am here to celebrate the one who arrived on time, the one who stayed, the one who helped me through the roughest of moments and brought me back to life." That final sentence was all Simon needed to hear as he shuffled out the door and made his way to the exit. Your eyes fell towards the interruption and you felt faint as you could have sworn it was Simon. You met his gaze but the man ran out of the chapel and you could never be certain. Your husband put a reassuring hand on yours and you shakily continued, trying to rationalize the appearances of ghosts from your past rather than the individual being your Simon.

As Simon ran to his car, he let out an anguished cry at the empty field. At that moment, Simon had seen all the painful memories you endured flood back and your gaze filled with fear and uncertainty. He could never put you through that again. He lit a cigarette before driving away just as the wedding bells filled the spring air. Simon would forever be dead to you and you would have an opportunity at a life he could never offer.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #mw2 #izzie is writing #izzie celebrates 1k

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asteriisswan · 4 months

Text

【 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄 】

Summary ! in which centuries had finally passed , war was over in a blink of an eye. the fae rejoiced and the ones who lost loved ones during that time , finally mourned . some took their time to heal , and mend their broken hearts to move on from all of it , and former war admiral ( name ) ( surname ) was one of them .

mourning and regretting the death of your lover and child . you slowly shut yourself from the world waiting for the rest of your days to come after centuries of living , you had served your time . and it was time for a rest .

however though , things aren't always going to plan , because on one stormy night in the fourteenth of may ... an old friend comes knocking at your door , but wait . is that a baby he's holding ?

Pairings ! Lilia Vanrouge x Female Reader

Contains ! Book 7 Spoilers, Mentions of War and Murder, Depression but only mentioned in the first few chapters, Cursing, Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Pregnancy, Child death, Enemies to lovers, Friends to Lovers, Found family troupe, Slightly suggestive/nsfw, cross-posted on Wattpad

Type of story : Series

Just how long has it been ?

For as long as I can remember .

It's been centuries now .

And that hole in my heart ,

it still remains .

A Mother's Loss .

I could remember that night so clearly .

Motherhood was a wonderful experience . To experience nurturing your young ─ it was a thing you would never regret if you chose to go down that path . Some say it was a hassle but I , as a woman who had loved . It was not .

I loved and cherished every moment of warmth and joy in the midst of chaos and the dark times of life .

In my arms, you lay so still ,

Your tiny body , so lifeless and chill.

The world we loved , we must now leave behind ,

For without you, it has lost its shine.

As a parent it was our duty to protect our young , teach them the ways of the world and slowly let them go as they flourish themselves and find out their talents and attributes , to let them discover and experience the wonders ─ the good or bad . Let that be the lesson .

The tears they flow , like rain on a windowpane ,

As I remember all the moments I held your little hand .

The first time, you smiled , and filled my heart with joy ,

Now the pain of losing you feels like a void , deep within my soul .

The memories we shared , the memories we made ,

The love we shared, that can never fade .

I'll treasure each and every day ,

As I remember you , my darling baby .

The first time those warm gentle eyes mirroring my own looked at me , I knew at that moment I fell in love .

" Hello , " it was merely just a word but ... It was everything , it was the first thing I had said the moment her eyes had opened .

I'll hold you close, in my heart forever,

And know that our love , will always be together .

Until we meet again , in the blue skies in the

afterlife ,

I'll carry your memory , with me for the rest of my life .

Why ? Why did it end like this ?

My precious gift .

Your life had ended too soon .

It was said that parents pass first before their children yet why ... ?

In other different cases , just like mine .

As I cradled the lifeless body , ignoring the awful stench — I didn't care if it looked inhumane , absolutely horrid and grotesque I cried . And cried hard until my eyes bled black letting my scream reach octaves of those of a sirens screech .

It should have been me who went first .

You who had so much to live for .

You who should have grown beautifully .

Happily , in elegance and grace .

My dear daughter .

" I wish for mother to live a long life ! "

You got your wish , but my life isn't as colorful without you .

" Fate had been a little too cruel for us ... " A whisper came out of my throat , hoarse and sore from all that crying as I sat on my knees , eyes that only remains on the gravestone infront of me , wet from the rain as if it was mourning with me .

My nails tugged against the worn out cloth in my grasps , gently I held it with love and care . An important item from long ago as the memories resurface from my mind — before grief hits me again as I held the cloth close to my chest and wept silently in the late afternoon , over and over .

It was just too painful . How can the God's be so cruel ? Was I not being obedient enough ?

Tell me , were my sins so unforgivable that you have to punish me by taking my light to my darkness ?

Why ! Why punish me like this ? Why take her life away like this ?

It should've been me !

" Me ... "

Sinking to my knees as my lips quivered . I could only stare at the gravestone before my hands dug at the grass and soil . Letting dirt sink through my nails as I hunched over and cried , just like all these years .

Years , and years . How long has it been since the day I lost you ? The war had ended , but somehow those scars and the pain that went along with it ...

Never went away .

Done with the mourning as I wiped my tears away , sighing a little to myself before I fixed my appearance again and got ready to head home and retire for the night , maybe drink something to indulge my sorrows .

Alas , I shall be spending my time alone in a fantasy , a dream far out of my reach .

Standing up , my dull eyes looked back down at the gravestone back again , " Mummy has to go baby . " I whisper lovingly patting it gently , feeling a little guilty that I have to leave so soon .

I'll come back later , I promised myself before I carefully placed the hood above my head before I picked up my basket and left .

" I'll be back for your birthday , " I whisper as I mustered a weak smile before I just ... Lost it again .

And so I left , with a heavy heart . Once more

Without the knowledge that my life would take a turn .

As a sudden surprise visit would change my life .

A/N ! making a master list soon , still this is going to be in slow updates as my personal life is busy but i will be publishing the other chapters that's already in Wattpad here , it's just chapter nine I'm stuck in

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #twisted wonderland lilia #twst x reader #twst x you #twst silver

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ronandreams · 2 months

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tag game! choose some of your favourite lyrics and list them below.

tagged by @henrywinteris and @nataliajames , thank you so much 💗

run - joji

I fell for your magic I tasted your skin And though this is tragic At least I found the end I witnessed your madness You shed light on my sins And if we share in this sadness Then where have you been?

as the world caves in - matt maltese

Oh, girl, it's you that I lie with As the atom bomb locks in Oh, it's you I watch TV with As the world, as the world caves in

francis forever - mitski

On sunny days, I go out walking I end up on a tree-lined street I look up at the gaps of sunlight I miss you more than anything I don't need the world to see That I've been the best I can be, but I don't think I could stand to be Where you don't see me

heaven - beyonce

We laughed at the darkness So scared that we lost it We stood on the ceilings You showed me love was all you needed

clementine - halsey

Wish I could see what it's like to be the blood in my veins Do the insides of all of my fingers still look the same? And can you feel it too, when I am touchin' you? And when my hair stands on ends, it's saluting you The blush in your cheeks says that you bleed like me And the 808 beat sends your heart to your feet Left my shoes in the street so you'd carry me

because of you - kelly clarkson

I watched you die I heard you cry every night in your sleep I was so young You should have known better than to lean on me You never thought of anyone else You just saw your pain And now I cry in the middle of the night For the same damn thing

family line - conan gray

Scattered 'cross my family line I'm so good at telling lies That came from my mother's side Told a million to survive Scattered 'cross my family line God, I have my father's eyes But my sister's when I cry I can run, but I can't hide From my family line

landslide - fleetwood mac (i also love the chicks version of this)

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?

i will follow you into the dark - death cab for cutie

You and me have seen everything to see From Bangkok to Calgary And the soles of your shoes are all worn down The time for sleep is now But it's nothing to cry about 'Cause we'll hold each other soon In the blackest of rooms

stranger - olivia rodrigo

Oh, but I hope that you're happy, babe, you know I really do And God knows that I am the girl I am because of you You know I'll always think of you, I'll love you 'til the end of time You are the best thing that I'll ever keep so far out of my life

chlorine - twenty one pilots

I'm so sorry, I forgot you Let me catch you up to speed I've been tested like the ends of A weathered flag that's by the sea

bandito - twenty one pilots

Began with bullet, now add fire to the proof But I'm still not sure if fear's a rival or close relative to truth Either way it helps to hear these words bounce off of you The softest echo could be enough for me to make it through

imgonnagetyouback - taylor swift

Bygones will be bygone eras fadin' into gray (fadin' into gray) We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game (oh) Told my friends, "I hate you but I love you just the same" Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way

how did it end? - taylor swift

Say it once again with feeling How the death rattle breathing Silenced as the soul was leaving The deflation of our dreaming Leaving me bereft and reeling My beloved ghost and me Sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G

the smallest man who ever lived - taylor swift

In fifty years, will all this be declassified? And you'll confess why you did it And I'll say, "Good riddance" 'Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden I would've died for your sins Instead, I just died inside And you deserve prison, but you won't get time

in the mourning - paramore

Oh, in the mourning, I'll rise And in the mourning, I'll let you die In the mourning, all my sorries And it takes all my strength not to dig you up From the ground in which you lay, the biggest part of me You were the greatest thing, and now you're just a memory To let go of

tagging, if u want to: @hellshee, @dykejaskier, @burke-juliet, @joequinns, @heartwasglass, @munsonseds, @saintirulan, @coldasyou, @crowleyaj, @cavarage, @waddinghamhannah, @madalainepetsch, @frolencewelch, @pastandpresentselves. .

#tag games #tag game #kinga tag #henrywinteris #nat tag #nataliajames

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kneecapandribcageinverter · 15 days

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Complicated feelings about new COTL update. The one where you get to heal the Bishops.

I'll admit, I had complicated feelings about the Bishops being resurrected in the first place. See, Narinder has this whole questline about him grieving, but now it's kinda been rendered moot? But not really, because now he has to actually CONFRONT his siblings after... well, everything, and there was a lot that was lost and will never be the same even if they ARE back, so it's not like there's nothing to mourn.

Then there's the bishop regeneration quests in the new update, where you heal their maimed bodies, restoring their eyes, ears, throat, skull, whatever. Leshy can see, Heket can speak, Kallamar can hear, and Shamura can think straight again.

Somehow, this feels like it cheapens the experience. Part of the reason it was such a big deal was because it was irreversible. This family did things to each other that couldn't be undone or taken back. But now that it HAS been fixed, it makes the problem seem trivial, which in turn makes the solution seem trivial.

But I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing. I don't think it's a bad thing at all, when I think about it some more.

You hear a lot of people talking about how sad they get after losing their favorite followers, and I experienced something similar during my playthrough, but... I noticed something interesting. Once I got the resurrection ritual, I sorta stopped caring when my followers died. Before, I'd think "just you wait, I'm gonna bring you back as soon as I can." but now that I CAN, it doesn't seem important to do anymore. I just love that psychological effect, how godlike power makes mortality seem so trivial and inconsequential.

See, the Lamb is a god. Doing things like this is a godly thing to do, and this casual mindset about it is... divine. This game has gods coming to grips with newfound mortality, sure, but that's not what it's about. It's about the Lamb losing their mortality. Seeing these once profound moments rendered hollow by their own power is the POINT. This is a game where mortal limitations and restrictions are meant to be overcome. Time and time again, the Lamb overreaches what was allotted to them, and time and time again, they find that what seemed so high above them is not only within their reach, but right in front of their face. Like the opposite of Tantalus, the highest boughs bend down to allow them to harvest whatever fruit they crave, and the tide rises to quench their thirst.

Another thing I have a love-hate relationship with is the comparison between the questlines that you've got. You bring the bishops low, sure, that's your job now. But then, you're charged with saving your mortal enemies, offering your own followers lives as payment to do so.

Now, I liked the variable nature of most sidequests. You can be the salvation or doom of... basically anyone. You can help Sozo poison himself to death and then rehabilitate him. You can protect Plimbo's ship from the angry Witnesses. You can reunite Forneus with her kids. You can reignite a lighthouse, preventing people from being lost at sea. On the other hand, you could offer your followers to Midas, or become a cannibalistic slave trader's favorite customer. There is the infamous Fox questline, in which you sacrifice your followers and Ratau.

What I have complicated feelings about is that... we have the option to save our foes, and we have the option to betray our faithful. If we choose to be vindictive to our foes or loyal to our flock, that's not a quest option, that's just non-progression.

What I mean is, we can't choose to protect our flock, or the lands of the old faith, from these other threats, we can only choose to either do business with them at the expense of our allies or other innocents, or simply ignore them. Likewise, we can't hurt the bishops in a way that isn't DIY follower interactions. Sure, we can keep them in a pillory forever, or permakill them in a horrid way, but that feels more like torturing a Minecraft villager than actually taking revenge against the character.

What's more is, to fulfill the "good" sidequests, we have to betray our followers by feeding them to doors, or sacrificing them to resurrect Aym and Baal.

It's like... I'm oversimplifying, but the choices we have are: Being good to our enemies, being bad to our allies, or just choosing not to do those things. (Sure, there are follower quests, but I'm not putting "pick ten flowers for me" on par with "end a life to get me out of hell.") This peeves me off a bit. But I understand this too.

Remember what I said earlier about the Lamb going through an arc about not being mortal anymore? This is another result of that. These quests represent that, even with the "you can't turn it down, you can only decide not to do it yet" thing. See, you might decide not to betray your followers now, but... time will pass. With infinite time, infinite things will happen. You will outlive your own willpower, and eventually cave in even to the least appealing temptation.

The Lamb values saving the bishops for the same reason the player does: Because they're actual characters with significance to the player. To us, the followers are random NPCs, and to the Lamb, they'll eventually wind up feeling the same way. After so much time, their faces blend together, their voices fade to unintelligible babble, etc. But the Bishops were a Big Deal to the Lamb once upon a time. Even if it was because they were enemies, they were IMPORTANT. It's someone that still means something. I figure it's sorta like how AM in I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream keeps a handful of humans alive so that it still has something to do stuff to, and freaks out when they die. It's not about mercy, it's not about forgiveness, it's not about affection, it's about having something around that can make you feel something after all this time.

Complicated feelings, but it's a good game.

#cotl lamb #cult of the lamb #immortality #cotl bishops

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spectrumed · 2 months

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23. Daddy Dead

It has been a while... Not that I regret this blog, I am genuinely proud of most of my previous writing, though, if I were to compile it all into some book I'd probably spend days, weeks, if not months, rephrasing sentence after sentence. I am, after all, an anxious fuck. Whenever I publish some piece of content for the world to consume I immediately start thinking of all the ways I could have done it better. Do it better, do it better, do it better. Perfectionism is a human flaw, and despite my autism telling me that I am entitled to identify as something of an alien, or an android, I am still very much human.

But, hey, here's the news. My father died earlier this year. Y'know that line by Camus? Obviously, you've all read The Stranger, so you are aware of how that novella starts. "Aujourd'hui, Maman est morte." And of course, as all of life is a long debate, the best translation is disagreed upon. But I like to keep it simple and straightforward. Mother died today. What's important is that the story's main character doesn't want to dwell on the past, he doesn't like to get all emotional. No melodrama needed or appreciated. To him, it's just the naked reality that he's found himself in. Maman is no more. A simple and true statement. He is a son whose maternal parentage is now relegated to the world that was, the past. She is deceased. Mommy has kicked the bucket. Really, no matter how we express ourselves, we belong to the present here and now, and words can only describe our reality, they cannot alter it. Why waste time with more flowery speech? She's dead. That's that.

In January, my father died. I could say that my father has gone off waltzing to the other side, or that he's with St. Peter now, but I prefer to say that he's just dead. What's important is that the individual who is half-responsible for my genetic heritage is gone. I will never once again get the chance to speak to him, I will never once again get to hear his voice, I will never once again get to think of him in the present tense. He is simply gone. He is, quoth the raven, "nevermore."

Am I sad? Of course I am. Tom was my dad. I am named after him. I am Fredrik Erik Tom. And Erik was the name of my maternal grandfather. I am straddled with two middle-names that will now forever remind me of two father figures that I have lost. Not that I really feel much animosity over that, after all, isn't that the purpose of middle-names? To remind you of some person you were named after, when they were an adult and you were just a newborn? If you end up dying before the person you were named after, well, I'd consider that to be a tragedy. I guess I have to view it as my purpose, now, to carry on the memory of these two men. And one day, I'll have children of my own, and I'll name them Erik and Tom. Though, it's gonna get awkward if I only end up only with daughters...

But this hypothetical child of mine, this daughter named Hecate Erika Tom, she won't have the same impression of these names as I do. To her, the names would lack substance, the real icky stuff that life is made from. These deceased men are kin of hers, and she might enjoy being told about them, but they are family members that died long before she entered this world. To me, they played an instrumental part in my viscous adolesence and, at least one of them, stuck around for long enough to watch me solidify into an adult. My grandfather died when I was fairly young, and it took me some time to become aware of just how much of my artistic sensibility I owe to him. Yes, I can appreciate him, and my likeness to him, even after he's gone, but my mental picture of him is still influenced by having once known him as a living and breathing organism.

I wonder if my child could ever know their grandfather Tom as anything more than just this theorical ghost of history...

I mourn. Of course I do. It is hard to know just how you're supposed to lament the passing of those you've lost. Are you supposed to be strong, stoic, and protestant about it? Or are you supposed to wear all black, weep openly, and convert to Catholicism? My world hasn't changed much since my father died, in fact, what has occurred is likely to be thought of as being for the better. My father left behind a dear inheritance. My sister will be able to take over his winsome house, and I will be able to take over her comfy apartment. From the perspective of living-standards, we both seem to be benefitting from our father's death. And he had a life-insurance! I thought only murder victims killed by their spouses had those.

And I know my father wanted us to inherit something big from him. In his final years he'd every so often talk about the things he were looking to leave behind to the next generation. He was very happy when he finally paid of his mortgage, seemingly just because he was now able to continue saving up more money. He never spent any money, it was blatantly obvious that he never intended to spend it on anything special. Yes, once he talked about maybe going on a long cruise somewhere, but that never happened. He intended for the money to go to us. He was never an expressive person, but I know that this was one way he could show me and my sister that he cared for us. And that is admirable, I suppose. But he was a cold and unemotional dad. Money doesn't really change that.

Yeah, my daddy was a difficult man. I never disliked him, but I often felt sorry that I didn’t have more of a connection with him. And, as his son, I was often thought to have the closest relationship with him. At times it made me feel so uncomfortable hearing others talk about my father with animosity, knowing that I was the one who spent the most time with him. Though, I can't blame anyone for struggling to cope with him. I struggled, too. But even just sitting together in resolute silence, like two proper muted norsemen, I think I got to know the sort of person that he was.

He wasn't a mean-spirited man, but he wasn't a considerate man. I think he could have done so much more to make others feel better, to make them feel more content and more happy, but I don’t think he ever meant any harm to anybody else. In many ways, I think he wasn’t equipped well-enough to deal with life. Mentally or emotionally. My father lacked that special “something” needed to make it easier to create deeper bonds with others. Possibly not aided by the fact that he had such an icy relationship with his mother, who once openly told him she never really wanted him, at all.

Was my father autistic? I don’t know. I want to say no. Because if my father was autistic, then the form of autism he had, it led to nothing good. I am autistic, and I like to think of myself as receiving just as many positive traits from my peculiar neurology as negative once. I think of autism as complex, and frankly wonderful, in its own way. It’s a smashing rainbow of diversity, with so many ways it can manifest itself, for better or for worse. My father just seemed so, monotonous. Especially late in life, when all he did was wake up and watch sports, then go to bed, rarely eating anything more than some bland porridge and a carrot. But I guess that sticking to one's routines is considered a hallmark of autism.

I don’t want that existence to be the one I have to look forward to. My father never really seemed to express any real enthusiasm for life in the end. I’ve heard that the seventies is when people are supposed to be at their happiest, but my dad died at the age of seventy-seven, and he seemed more depressed than ever. It's sad to think that your close family member died dissatisfied with life. A lot of it had to do with his busted knee. He could not walk, the way he used to. He used to go on these long walks, and he used to have friendly, if mostly shallow conversations with a wide range of people. Again, my father struggled with forming profound bonds with other people, but he wasn't a surly or misanthropic individual. He seem to have been positively well-liked by most of the people who casually knew him.

I grew up in one of those places that’s something of a bland mix between a suburb and a small town. It's the best of two worlds, and the worst of two worlds. I can't say I love the place I grew up, but I also can't say that I hate the place I grew up. Some of the folks that my father ended up casually connecting with were people that he had been roughly familiar with for a long time. They shared the same stomping grounds, they walked the same earth, they drank the same water. We’re never going to feel as interconnected as we once upon a time felt when our little village was all that we truly knew of the world. But, there is something to be said about being able to pass by some house you haven’t seen in a while and knowing who exactly lives there and how you are, even in the most esoteric and faint way, known to them.

“Oh, don’t you know that kid you once went to school with, that you once played football with for a summer back in the nineties? Well, it turns out I had a really good chat with that person’s grandparents.”

Yeah, dad, I am vaguely familiar with that kid, sure. He had really blond, almost white hair, and it was very curly. I remember playing football with him, though, I never liked him and I certainly never liked playing football. It is easy to regard your surroundings growing up as something of a prison, or the trial process you're over-eager to get done with. Most of the kids I remember growing up alongside I would never as an adult choose to spend any time with. They were dreadfully dull people. I am not sure any of them would appreciate me starting this blog post by referencing Camus.

My parents decided to move here. I did not make the decision to be born here. Now, I am not all that struck by wanderlust. I wish not to move to some other country or some other region far away from home. I'd be quite content one day owning a quaint little house, with a sizeable area for me to convert into an artistic workshop, somewhere north of Stockholm, in Roslagen, the part of the country that I am from. But ideally, it shouldn't be exactly where I am from. If I could move some slight difference away, say some neighbouring municipality, then I'd be most pleased. Like I think most people, I want more of the same, just also vaguely not quite the same.

It always felt like my father was fixed in place. Permanent. Actually, it felt as if my father was some damn heavy rock, some soul that would always stay where he was, in just that position, forever and forever. Stubborn. Inflexible. Unyielding. Like those glacial erratics, big giant boulders found around the northern hemisphere. Part of me is as shocked by the disappearance of my father as I would be if some ancient mountain where to simply vanish. Tom? Dead? How did the gods allow that to happen? Fathers can die, just like that?

But in his youth, he wasn't so sedentary. My father used to entertain us with stories about his wayfaring youth. His adventures in France. The joys he felt going skiing. All the wine and cognac he drank. That time he got accidentally engaged with some farmer’s daughter. In all his tales, he seemed like such a different person, an individual so lush with life and with enthusiasm. I was enraptured hearing these tales from my dad, a person superficially so passionless. But it also hurt. To learn that a person so close to you used to have a daring and exciting life, then things changed just as you came into the picture.

I guess that this post is coming too late. I could have written this when he was still alive, I could have done something to express these thoughts to him when he was still capable of responding to my woes. But, at the same time, I don’t think I’d have the same perspective. The memories I have of my father are conflicted. Confusing, actually. But only now am I beginning to see some greater narrative emerging. We all need that. Some story to tell ourselves. It is important not to fall into the predictable traps, not to make reality seem more black and white than it really is, but... Just knowing where we belong, in the great chain that is our lineage, is instrumental to finding peace in grief.

And, even if he was still with us, I never would have learned if he too had autism. That man would ever have subjected himself to the kind of neuropsychiatric evaluation that I went through. It is really a pointless question to ask. The state of my father’s neurology was something that I was never going to learn about, and I am peace with that. Some people are more susceptible to these discussions than others. I am happy to occasionally hint to my mother that she may be “somewhere on the spectrum,” but I would never have felt at ease telling my dad he might have some significant neurological condition.

He could have been autistic, he could not have been autistic, I might as well pick up a flower and begin to pluck out the petals, that might just be the most reliable way for me to find out. He wasn't the sort of person inclined towards deep self-reflection. And it is true that my mother's family also exhibits traits of autism spectrum disorder. Especially my grandfather Erik, the other daddy I was named after.

I’ve written all of this late at night, after I've had some wine and some vodka. In so many ways, I am a chaotic person. I’ve always struggled to get to bed early, I’m always at my most productive those hours of the day I am supposed to be doing something else. I’ve always related to odd and weird people, those who seem to view the world from an outsider’s perspective. I am not good at behaving “normal.” One thing I could never comprehend was my father’s capacity to go to bed, every night, at a reasonable hour, and to awake early and before noon. I longed to see some dysfunction in my father, to see some evidence that I was truly his son, but all that he hid behind several walls of emotional sterility.

My father had a secular burial. It was quite a lovely little ceremony. We had a woman doing live performances of some of my father’s favourite bluesy songs from the 1970's. His family was there, some of his neighbours, also me and my sister, our mother and her sister (our aunt.) And I cried. A lot. My father’s older younger brother also cried a lot. He looked real tormented, actually. I felt acutely sorry for him. I have two uncles on my father's side, but one uncle is much younger than the other. My father and his brother closest in age grew up almost being twins, only one year separating them, they were really close. I have an older sister, no brother, so I can only imagine what it is like to have a fraternal relationship like that. I had my father for thirty-two years, he had him for seventy-six.

I am going to art school now. I am hoping that I will be able to keep going down this track, making "fine art," perhaps one day even receiving some recognition for my work. Working with these things physical, sculpting and painting, it gratifies me more than manipulating anything digital. No, I am not bitter. I am happy with where I am. But I am also paying for my current education with funds my father provided me with. Actually, the last conversation I had with him I called him to remind him to please send me some money so that I could pay the invoice I had just received. I could have regrets about that, wishing that our talk had been about something more profound and less tawdry, but I don't have any regrets. That's just life. And money is an integral part of it.

I am filled with heartache, and I am filled with confusion. I am not feeling the summertime bliss this year. It’s been months, yes, but grief is four-dimensional. Grief doesn't care about linear time, it comes and goes seemingly at random. At some times you may feel at peace, then suddenly, you remember that your dad is gone and a profound sadness overtakes you. The complexity of your relationship with him doesn’t really matter when you’re at that point just repeating in your head “my daddy is dead, my daddy is dead, my daddy is dead.”

Grief is primal, and sorrow is animal. It’d be much easier to deal with it all if we were just a bunch of logical aliens, some cold androids, but we’re messy human beings, no matter our diagnoses. It really doesn’t matter, in the end, if my father was autistic or not, all that matters is that he’s now no longer with us, so all we’ve got left is our memories of him. And one day I will figure out exactly what kind of narrative I wish to tell about his life, just how I wish to capture all the confusion I feel when I think about him. Maybe it wouldn't be all wrong if I chose to focus on the good things.

Rest in peace, Tom, my dad, and I hope that you may have thought of me, or my sister, the very last time you closed your eyes.

#autism spectrum disorder #autism #mental health #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #grief

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sophireslife · 3 months

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One Last Love Letter

I always thought you were gonna be my forever. The one person i randomly met who just appeared to be everything i ever wanted. I thought we were going to grow old together, go to university, marry and someday get kids and be a family. I really thought it was going to be you. With every "I love you" i fell even harder and with every second passing i felt even more love for you. I did everything that was possible for me to do to make you happy, to make you want me just as much. But you can't force people to feel a certain way. Even though you said you loved me more than anyone, even when you called me the "love of your life", you still left me. You left me just like everyone does. You left me to fight for myself, to cry myself to sleep. Where my heart once was is now a burning hole, swallowing me every moment i'm not busy. I have to distract myself everyday from thinking about you, about us, because if i start i can't stop. And now after you've left me you became a whole different person. You broke your word, one thing you swore to never do. You lied to me, even though you expect everyone else to always be honest because "honesty lives the longest". I don't recognise you anymore from the way you act now. But sometimes i find myself wondering if you're ever coming back to apologize, to try to win me back. And then I ask myself: What would I do? The rational part of my brain tells me to leave you in the past, to forget you and never look back because you hurt me more than anyone or anything ever did. After you broke up with me i became a shallow and broken version of myself. But the emotional side of my brain wants to take you back, no matter how much your actions and words hurt me and no matter how many things you did wrong, because i love you and i always will. And i miss you, so much, i never thought i was able to feel those feelings in such an extreme way, but here i am, mourning over you while you act like you don't notice my absence. And i'm not sure if i'm able to let you go just yet because i was so sure there was more to our story than just that. I'm not sure if i'll ever be able to let go.

Lots of love,

the girl you told you'd marry her one day.

#poems on tumblr #poems and quotes #poems and poetry #poetry #spilled poetry #love letters #love letter: my true feelings #love letter.txt #breakup #i miss you #dealing with grief #grief poetry #relationship #feelings #love poem #spilled thoughts #poem

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buddierecs · 3 months

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long (40k+ words) buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

leave the light on (i'll be coming home) by: HMSLusitania "an accident on a call leaves buck with custody of chris after eddie is... missing presumed. while they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite eddie's parents' best efforts -- a john doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home." word count: 44k important tags: presumed dead, grief, mourning, angst, amnesia, getting together across our great divide (a glorious sunrise) by: catchingpapermoons "eddie gets buck to come to couples therapy with him." word count: 53k important tags: therapy, getting together, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, medding, idiots in love

little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: fake dating, idiots in love, mutual pining, miscommunication, fluff, christopher diaz has two dads tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by: withmeornotatall "eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia" word count: 43k important tags: time loop, minor buck/natalia, heavy angst, eventual happy ending, weddings, love confessions i'll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe by: turningthepages "just another hollywood amnesia story the fandom probably didn't need but lived in my head rent free for too long." word count: 128k important tags: married!buddie, amnesia, car accidents, hurt!eddie diaz, angst, hurt/comfort, future fic (they have 3 kids) tell me about despair by: hattalove "the entity often affectionately referred to as the unrepression fic." word count: 148k important tags: therapy, ptsd, heavy angst, communication, feelings realisation, friends to lovers, slow burn

ripples all the way down by: iriswests "christopher partakes in some parent trapping" word count: 57k important tags: jealous!evan buckley, jealous!eddie diaz, slow burn, miscommunication, happy ending peace in austin by: angalwithwingsoffire "the story of evan buckley, losing all hope in la after the lawsuit and moving to texas to join the 126." word count: 156k important tags: post-lawsuit, 911 lone star characters, angst, evan buckely leaves the 118, depression, ptsd, emotional hurt hold steady, hold steady by: thetalee "after eddie's bombshell announcement on christmas, buck runs away and finds himself back on his first day on the job. a time-travel fix-it fic of sorts, ft. a stranger that totally just wants to help, honest." word count: 172k important tags: time travel, time loops, supernatural elements au, slow burn, shannon diaz lives, hurt!evan buckley, temporary character death

the persistence of memory by: withmeornotatall "buck gets shot, eddie has to keep reliving the day until he can figure out what the universe is trying to tell him" word count: 58k important tags: time loop, eddie diaz pov, angst, hurt/comfort, temporary character death, gay disaster!eddie diaz, make outs, gun violence heart of flowers/heart of gold by elvensorceress "after nearly losing each other, buck and eddie find their way to each other and their family’s happily ever after." word count: 144k important tags: season 4, friends to lovers, mutual pining, evan buckley takes care of eddie diaz, demisexual!eddie diaz, gun shot wounds you can tell everybody this is your song (series) by: woodchoc_magnum "it's not a date if chris is here with us." at that, buck's eyebrows flew up, and his face went pale. "a… date?" eddie nodded, a little nervously. "yeah. this is a date." word count: 640k important tags: romance fluff, boys in love, getting together, developing relationship, falling in love

boys of summer by: woodchoc_magnum "in which buck takes eddie on a summer road trip through the sierra nevada mountains, and they fall head over heels in love with each other" word count: 47k important tags: road trips, falling in love, boys falling in love, soft!buddie, family feels, team as family cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: marriage of convenience, parenthood, adoption, slow burn, miscommunication, family fluff, pining, oblivious!evan buckley, soft!buddie, friends to lovers

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #buck x eddie fic #911 abc #911 show #buddie fic #911 fandom #buddie fics #911 fic rec #evan buck buckley #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfics #buddie recommendations #buddie recs #buck x eddie fanfics

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itspdameronthings · 7 months

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in Loving memory

Summary: here is my entry to@triplefrontier-anniversary celebration. This is a really sad one. sorry about that. this is a tribute for one of our own ,@aellynera who is now with the angels. She was one of a kind . Hope she loves this. she loved Oscar. Most of us knew she loved Triple frontier ,and anything with oscar. ha ha!

the fic deals with him mourning his love.

Wish people would stop asking how I am doing. Want to be alone! Let me fucking be! Let me grieve in my own way! Others never lose the love of their life like me. My Alleycat. One of a kind. Talented writer . Yeah. She loved to write short stories. Did that to take her mind off her illness. I found out about it four years ago when she would get sick a lot. Doctors ran test after test. Until … she was in a coma! Scared me half to death. Prayed for more time with her. Wishing Columbia never happened. Took me away from her! God! Why ! Why you called her home so fucking soon! Took my dad ( Which I didn't have to say goodbye to!) Took me years to get past the hurt. Feel so alone! What now!?

Haven't left our room since the funeral. That was the hardest thing to do. Say bye to my heart. Others are part of me. My Ying to my Yang. Treasure the moments we shared last year from going to a Broadway show in New York that stars her favorite actor. Okay, I saw why she likes him. Told me he looks like me. Smile at the memory. Oh Ally girl, wished we had more time together. Make even more memories. I’ll treasure them always. No matter what. I'll never find anyone like you darling. Promise you that.

I'm watching Revenge of Jolly right now. Try to laugh. Haven't been able to do that. I remember coming home from a horrible day. She was watching it. Okay.. kind of corny.

I watched it,and oh shit! Was so corny.

After the movie. I play some of her music. Oh how she loved the 70’s and 80’s. Her taste was all over the place! Like Dan Reed network. Played it a lot. Some country. Oh how she loved when I sing. Even with Benny. Speaking of him. Oh how he misses her. Like his big sister. Always teaming up to tease the shit out of me. Will and Frankie too loved her as well.

Her family gave me space that I needed. Mention if I need anything to let them know. That's sweet. Even Benny's girl, Paige comes by with food ,and tries to clean the house. Which looks like inside my head. She is grieving like me. Both of them were close. Like the same things. Same kind of sass. Which is comforting. On this day Paige brought me a note Ally wrote before she passed. Said for me to read it. Cant! Cant fucking do it! What can she possibly tell me that I already know! Paige told me it would help the healing process. Putting it on my nightstand for the time being.

Few days later Will texted me to come over for a surprise get together at his place. Others will be there. Too soon! Not ready to go out! Oh got a text from Paige:

Paige: Look, I know what you are going through. Been in your position when my dad passed away. Couldn't function. Took me awhile to realize that my dad didn't want me to wallow.

Santi: wallow? Think I'm wallowing?

Paige: a little. Have to get out at some point okay? Ally wouldn't want you to be sad forever. Have a lot of people in your corner. Besides, I need you at the gathering. So does Benny.

Santi: Oh.. the gathering has to do wop,ith you two?

Paige : maybe.

Maybe she said. Just like Ally . So secretive. Guess I have to bite the bullet,and read the letter. Sitting in my worn out, black leather chair. Starting to read:

My Santi baby( hot sauce) ,

Wrote this before my condition got so bad that I couldn't communicate anymore. Wanna tell you I love you soo much. Have been the love of my life for a long time, baby. Sorry for worrying you so much about my illness. Always there when I told you about it. So grateful for that.

Have a request for you. Live life to the fullest,but first thing first.

Get your knees checked out! Don't let it go too long! Hate to see you in pain. Do it for me. Secondly, it's okay to love someone new. Want you to be happy. It's okay to love someone else. Thirdly, let the others take care of you. I mean it! Have been a leader far too long. Let them take some of the slack okay?

Last thing my love I treasure all of the time we shared in our short time together. Never in my wildest dreams we found each other. Be strong .

Hold the note close to my heart. Tears fell again. Thinking about what I have to do. First thing. Time to get cleaned up. Meaning shaving my scruffy face.

Took a breath as I knocked on ironhead’s door. Benny opened the door. Hugging me so tight I couldn't breath. Others hugged me. Even Paige. Asked me if I was okay. Squeezed her tiny hands and told her I read the letter . Told her I'll do what she says.

Benny made his special announcement. Him and Paige are getting married. So happy for them . Hope both of them have a wonderful life together. Looking up at the evening sky knowing she is in heaven watching. Guiding not just me,but all of the people she cares about.

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac #@triplefrontier-anniversary

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graysonshmayson · 9 months

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pairing - none

summary - basically dick has a secret reddit account where he vagues in the AITA forum about his family issues. inspired by tim's reddit chronicles by @batposts but they deleted their account :( RIP i'll love u forever, spleen guy

warnings - no warnings apply

wordcount - 6,826

a/n- very little editing but fun i promise. check out the whole thing on ao3! or read it on here. i guess.

AITA for resenting my little brother?

So first, a little background. I (M19) was taken in (not ever legally adopted, but that's another story) when I was 9 by my dad (M38) after my parents died. His parents also died when he was a kid, so he was able to help me a lot with my anger issues after it happened and find my place in the world. One of the main ways he did that was by letting me help with the family business. He initially didn’t want me involved because I was too young, but I was stubborn and made a whole position for myself that I worked really hard for. I’d like to think that eventually, he saw me not just as a son, but as a partner. But by the time I was 18, I felt like he was far too controlling and still saw me as a kid. I felt that I wasn’t respected as an equal, and it started to cause a bunch of fights until eventually I had enough and left. I moved in with some friends and we started our own business. I completely reinvented myself just to stop getting associated with him and make a name for my own.

We didn’t talk for a long time, until I finally caved and started helping out with family stuff here and there, but it's still tense. Then, not even a YEAR after I left, I went back to the house and found a random child in the home. He adopted another kid (who literally looks like me too?) without asking or even telling me. I know it's not like I need to give him permission to adopt a child, but I wish he’d at least talked to me about it, you know? But by the time I met the kid, J (M10), the paperwork had already been finalized and I had a little brother. The real kicker is that he had taken my position in the family business. The one that I made myself to help mourn the loss of my murdered parents? Anyway, so my dad, who has the emotional intelligence of packing peanuts, barely said anything about my new brother. No apologies for replacing him in my position or anything. He just explained J’s background which is, admittedly, rough. And I really feel bad for not liking him because he’s a good kid and he really does look up to me and wants to spend time with me as brothers, but every time I see him I can’t help but be reminded by how my dad replaced me in business and in his life. I was even told that my dad almost gave him my old room (we’re very well off and have plenty of extra rooms). I’m not exactly mad at the kid, but so many of his little comments about what my dad does with him that he didn’t want to do with me hurts. Am I the asshole?

#dick grayson #nightwing #batman #reddit #tim's reddit chronicles #spleen guy #jason todd #robin #red hood #dc comics #batfamily #my fic

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blindaysblogforturtles · 1 year

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Look, it's gonna ruin my bad girl image, but I needed to let it out. Cass' apocalyptic stories have gotten me. Yeah.

I'm not such a great artist, and I don't write that well, but I wanted to show my gratitude towards Cass for making such an amazing series. So, here goes nothin'.

Beyond memory and mourning

I have seen battles from beyond the years Things no one else saw or will ever see So many moments that will die with me Things to remember that don't even exist Who is to say if it was real or not I still remember all the things I saw I can still name every one of them The ones I left and would die to see again Father, someone who protects and guides Family, the people that will help you hide Not only hide but teach you how to fight We face monsters together fighting, side by side What I would not give to see them again To tell them that I did it and our future is safe I can only dream of them smiling proud But I'll never get to see it or hear them say it out loud So I speak with nothing, and it hears what I say That we can finish the story, let a new one begin I know it would be selfish to wish you were here But I can't help but need at least one of them with me I'm stuck in this world with a story beyond With people that will love me but for now they don't know For now I'm a stranger from a world they can't see Mourning people that are here, but have ceased to exist

A poem inspired by Casey Jones as depicted by @somerandomdudelmao in their series.

Goodbye I'm gonna shove my face in a hole and explode forever.

#rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #somerandomdudelmao #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #poem #hardly a good one but oh well #if i spend one more second looking at it im going to chicken out

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rogerswifesblog · 2 years

Note

Ok ok I need more Steve fluff from you!

Steve would def take his girlfriend to concerts of artists she likes. Just imagine Steve at an Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift concert next to his girlfriend that's scream-singing the lyrics along.

Here’s some more fluff, because that’s a freakin’ cute hc 💖 [ this here Is kinda a music one shot/blurb]

[ ok, I really actually wrote a whole ass one shot trying to write a cute blurb. I just loved this idea sm ]

I think steve definitely likes modern music, but he doesn’t really listen that much to modern music

Lyrics

Until he met you. You listen to music all the time-while cooking, cleaning up, changing clothes, before bedtime, during showers,…just whenever you can.

He knew what artists you liked; Es Sheeren, Harry styles, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry,…there were many more, but he knew you liked these the most.

Just like know you were making pancakes for breakfast, while a song played in the background. Steve already knew this one-he liked it. He liked the lyrics; lover, by Taylor swift. It was…a really sweet song.

Steve approached you, putting his arm gently around you, swaying to the beat of the song. He couldn’t stop himself from mumbling the words of the song.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

He kissed your neck gently, while you slowly leaned against his chest, putting the pancake on a plate and turning of the stove.

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Lover…

Steve smiled against your neck, breathing in your sweet smell. He could get used to this. Having you this close, being with you every day, waking up next to you every mourning, going to bed with you every night….

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

He turned you around slowly, putting his hand on your waist. A grin spread over your lips, while Steve started swaying with you to the song, turning you around sometimes. Even though he always said he was a bad dancer, you liked his dancing. He was gentle and careful.

You giggled, putting your arms around his neck, singing the lyrics of the song-definitely knowing them better than Steve. You two looked at each other, fully knowing this was it. That’s were you wanted to be. Steve wanted to ask you-he wanted you to spend the rest of your life with him.

And without needing to ask the question itself, he knew your answer. He saw it in your eyes.

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover…

It was the first Christmas you’d spend with Steve. He was nervous-not only because of Christmas with your family itself, but also because he had a gift for you, he really wanted for you to like-well, he knew you’d like it. But it was a whole plan he already had, but he couldn’t talk about it. It was a secret.

Walking with you into the house of your family, he was greeted with the smell of typical Christmas meals and christmal tree. It felt homey, warm…just, right.

Your mother loved him as soon as she laid eyes on him. She told him, she had hoped for you to find good guy-which you apparently finally did, after having scared your mother of never bringing a potential son-in-law home. She’d accept it, if that’s what would’ve happened but…she really hoped for grandkids. You were her older daughter, so she hoped you’d be the first one to bring her the good news at some point.

Until Steve’s you’ve never really felt like you were really in love. It never felt right. But with Steve? Yes, that’s how love should be. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was right. You made it perfect for each other.

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down

Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now

After sitting down at the table, you ate, talking about everything that happened recently-your parents asked Steve a lot, mostly stuff about him, which you really enjoyed. They didn’t ask stuff about him being Captain America. It was just Steve.

At Steve felt like he was only falling in love with you more, you and your family. They seemed so nice-even though you had to hit your little sister with your spoon, after she touched his biceps-in her Defense….she was just curious. They didn’t look real on tv. It made you all laugh, even your parents.

They could tell you loved the super soldier, by just one look at you.

At the same for Steve.

The way you looked at each other…it was love. There was no doubt.

It's brighter now, now

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I can never look away

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

Things will never be the same

“Time for presents!”, you giggled childish, taking some of the gifts from under the Christmas tree.

It surprised Steve when you gave him a few presents too-thank god he thought about bringing something for your family, too. Smiling he opened the first gift, which was a knitted sweater. His heart swelled seeing this beautiful sweater. He looked at you, but you nodded to your mom. He felt his heart ache. It reminded him of his own mother. “Thank you so much”, he mumbled, trying it on, not even bothering that he still wore his buttondown underneath.

Your mom laughed quietly. “Oh dear, I didn’t expect for you to be so…”, she pointed how tight the sweater stretched across his shoulders, but he didn’t mind it. He loved it.

For a moment he watched you take a picture of him in this sweater, making him grin. He quickly gave you a short kiss on the lips.

You felt your blood rush to your cheeks. Blushing you looked down for a moment.

Then Steve took out a envelope out of his jacket and gave it to you.

Your eyes glistened. You knew what these were. Even if Steve hadn’t told you anything, you could feel what it was.

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

Now I'm wide awake

And now I see daylight (Daylight), I only see daylight (Daylight)

I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight

With shaky hands you opened the envelope, taking out two tickets to the next Taylor swift concert-in only six months.

A sob escaped your lips, while you threw yourself at Steve-and even his super soldier instincts hadn’t prepared him for this, making fall with you from the chair.

Gasping your family watched the two of you fall to the floor, while you buried your face in Steve’s neck-probably leaving salty tears and your make up behind.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-Steve-thank you so much”, you whispered like a mantra, hugging him strong enough, he started thinking you somehow got the serum yourself.

Quietly laughing he put his arms around you, letting his head rest on the floor.

You’ve never been with someone who understood your passion and love for music. Everyone made always fun of you for knowing all the lyrics to every new song, in only a few days.

But Steve, he…he loved this about you. The signing in the shower, small dances while cooking…it made you, just….you. He loved your true self.

And I can still see it all (In my mind)

All of you, all of me (Intertwined)

I once believed love would be (Black and white)

But it's golden (Golden)

And I can still see it all (In my head)

Back and forth from New York (Sneaking in your bed)

I once believed love would be (Burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight….

The time flew by quickly, suddenly six months were behind you and you were getting ready for your first Taylor swift concert. You’d never thought you’d ever see her in real life-and Steve even got tickets right in front of the stage-which he told you was Natashas idea. You definitely had to thank her for that.

Grinning you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

It was finally happening.

Within a few hours you two were standing in front of the stage. As soon as Taylor came out, you screamed, singing the lyrics to every song-and maybe you cried, too,…just maybe.

Kiss you once 'cause I know you had a long night

Oh! Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause you waited your whole life

One, two, one two three four!

You grinned at Steve, pulling him closer against you. He kissed you every time the lyrics said so, making you laugh happily. His enhanced hearing caught your laugh in all the screaming and singing. He’ll probably have a headache for the next few days but he didn’t care.

It was so worth it, seeing you this happy.

He made you this happy.

Well, Taylor did, but he bought the tickets.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want, and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

You grinned at Steve, singing the lyrics loudly and point at him.

He laughed at your cuteness, making a heart shape with his fingers. Immediately you pulled Steve closer, giving him a gentle kiss, before you watched Taylor perform.

Steve watched you for a moment, grabbing the little box in his pocket.

How could he be this lucky, having you, love him?

Darling, you're the one I want

In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

Oh, you're the one I want

Steve heard the right song playing, feeling his hands start to sweat. His heartbeat started racing.

While you screamed the lyrics of one of your favourite songs, Steve took a little step back, waiting for the right moment. He watched you jump, dance and laugh happily, singing with the girls next to you, like you two were best friends-even though you didn’t know each other until today.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel

This love is difficult, but it's real

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

Taylor walked right in front of you, touching your outstretched hand, making more tears stream down your face.

Thank god you had waterproof make up on…even though you weren’t sure if you hadn’t cried more, that it could withstand.

I got tired of waiting

Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

The camera started pointing at the crown around you, till it finally stopped by you. Grinning you waved at the camera, but noticed steve wasn’t next to you, where he had been all this time.

So you looked to the side.

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

Gasping you slapped your hands over your mouth, stumbling a step back.

Steve smiled at you, down on his knee, with a little box in his hand, a pretty diamond ring shimmering in the light, which was pointed at the two of you. You could see yourself on the big screen, out of the corner of your eye, while the Taylor Swift came once again closer to you, grinning. Already had known about everything, after Tony Stark himself called her.

And said, "Marry me, Y/N

You'll never have to be alone

I love you and that's all I really know

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

It's a love story, baby, just say;

"Yes!"

Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog! Feedback!??<3

#steve rogers #mcu #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #Taylor swift is definitely canon in the MCU

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