#it's fresh. she dies tragically.

[yuridovewing]

i really do feel like a lot of biography super edition lore and retcons should kinda just be seen as debatably canon instead of cold hard canon cause so much of it just contradicts a lot in the main series in really lame ways and it just makes main series even more convoluted and stupid when it doesn't have to be.

[onmyyan]

Yandere Batfam being kind of terrible and over all neglectful to their Batmom darling makes my heart ache ache for angst and the drama that comes with it. It's always so satisfying to see Mrs. Wayne go be at he wits end with the family she is slowly began to loathe, decides to leave them quietly, and start to be selfish for a change by living her best life in with out them and in comforting solitude. It was so easy to get Bruce to sign her one way ticket out her depressing life, via not paying attention to the papers he signed of. Oh well 🙂

This is so scrumptious omfg the angst possibilities are literally endless??

Like her being there for Dick when he arrives as that broken little kid despite the misdirected anger he aimed at her, she'd still ask him how his day at school was or if he wanted to walk the gardens with her, no matter how many times he rejects her, she'd be there for him without overstepping the delicate boundaries surrounding him and his recently departed parents, I can see him opening up just the slightest but then he becomes Robin and since at this point batmom doesn't know about any of that, it drives this wedge between them.

She'd fall in love with being a mom despite its many challenges, when Dick grows up and eventually moves out her heart aches but then Jason comes into their lives and it's like a breath of fresh air in the stagnant house Bruce had cultivated. Then he dies. And everything is grey. Jason would have been close to her before she died but afterwards? She's just as bad as Bruce in his eyes and he's sure to let her know it.

Tim's another tragic case of misdirected anger, his father's murder fresh in his mind, it be impossible to bond with him every attempt would be met with more resistance and bitterness, it hurt when he so clearly thought you were trying to replace his mother, and this distance between you isn't something he grows out of

[moresandmanstuff]

Dead Boy Detectives Character Parallels - Meta Analysis

I've noticed that Crystal and Niko can be viewed as parallels of Edwin and Charles, so I thought I'd post some examples in case anyone is interested.

First, there is the way they meet. Edwin and Crystal encounter someone who is in trouble, on the verge of death, and try to help as best they can. They sit with them and listen, bond over shared trauma.

The big difference, of course, is that Charles dies while Niko lives. This is not a criticism of Edwin - he was just one ghost boy fresh from Hell. It’s only by working together that the three of them are able to save Niko (i.e. the power of friendship and this enchanted jar I found).

Charles is immediately taken with Crystal and eventually makes the connection that she reminds him of Edwin. Edwin finds Niko similarly charming. I bet if he thought about it, he would figure out it’s because she reminds him of Charles. They are both stubbornly optimistic and delightfully openminded, if a bit reckless.

They impulsively pick up objects.

They are curious about the bear talisman. (Notice how the shots are different, with Niko visually trapped with it in the jar.)

They really want that Magic 8 Ball and look to Edwin for permission to take the case.

They are much friendlier with Tragic Mick than Edwin or Crystal are, which results in him giving them the magical objects that come in so handy later.

They tend to jump in front of danger when their counterpart is threatened.

And then there is their mutual appreciation for blunt force objects. (That crowbar definitely ended up in the bag of tricks backpack.)

Bonus shot of all four reacting to the young woman jumping from the lighthouse in episode 4. Charles and Niko immediately look away, but Crystal and Edwin watch. Edwin even moves to get a better view. Is this because they are more desensitized to violence?

Lastly, just a dialogue parallel. Edwin in episode 6 after realizing he was tricked by Monty, and Crystal in the pilot explaining that David the Demon must have tricked her.

I'm sure there are more but this is long enough already. What parallels have you noticed?

[karmasloverrr]

fresh out the slammer - rafe cameron

in which y/n realizes the only man she wants isn’t the one standing across from her at the alter

warnings- swearing, angst, kissing, mention of abuse

w/c: idk but a lot

guys this is my first fic so be kind please but like..also leave feedback lmao

———————————————————————————

Soaking in a bubble filled tub, wallowing in your sorrows and mind even hazier from your third glass of red wine, the fight you just had with your fiancé- soon to be husband- left you with an insurmountable amount of racing thoughts.

Getting home late was a recurring pattern for Tommy, drunk and tattered with his tie undone as well as an occasional obnoxiously red lipstick stain underneath his jaw, mocking you when he turns his head away from your “incessant nagging and bitching”.

You asking where he had been turned into hands pulling hair from stress, voice cracks of screeching anger, broken shards of glass from being flown into walls and streams of tears when he put his hands around your neck, again.

“Cover that up for tomorrow.” Catching your breath you glared at him with nothing but hate and irritation.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want the town knowing you’re I’m marrying an abuser or anything.”

Tommy whips around with a finger in your face. “Watch your fucking mouth, Y/N. You’d be nothing without me, your last name changing is a blessing to you, appreciate it. Knowing you’ll be associated with my family and reputation isn’t something to take lightly, got it?”

You stood there just taking it. Staring dazedly at the wall in your kitchen, anything to avoid looking at the man you once respected and maybe even loved.

Your father would be so ashamed of you, he never raised you to take shit from anyone, especially a man who didn’t deserve an ounce of your time. He tragically died when you were 15, leaving you with a narcissistic, alcoholic mother. The reason you were even in this situation with Tommy.

Tommy belonged to one of the most prominent and wealthy families in the OBX. The Randolphs have always had a good relationship with your family, with your dad being a loyal accountant associated with their law firm. After your dad passed they treated you and your mother like some charity cases, always baking food and lending money, to which your mother gladly took.

Your mother suggested the idea of marriage to Tommys parents after she caught you blushing too hard and smiling a little to often about “that Cameron boy”. Rafe Cameron had a reputation around Kildare and it wasn’t a good one. Drug addicted, college dropout, psychopath and constantly picking fights were all tied to his name but to you, he was the only reason the sun came up each morning.

Like you, he lost a parent at a young age, his mother. Trauma bonding and sharing hatred with the Randolph family became a stepping stone for you both. You met through Topper at a party in high school and never really looked back, you became inseparable.

Years spent indulging in each other’s company was platonic until a few years ago when he started looking at you a little more intensely, leaving longing glances and stolen stares across crowded rooms. You both knew your feelings but never spoke it into existence, seeing as you were then just freshly engaged.

Now here you stand, with no love in your heart for the man you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with starting tomorrow, glaring at him stomping up the spiral stairs of your far too perfect and ridiculously gigantic sized “home”.

The drip of the tub faucet echoes throughout the bathroom, your foot thoughtlessly turning the water dial on and off every few seconds. Absently staring off into space, your face is blank but your mind is racing. You are at a true gut wrenching loss at what to do.

The only thing pulling you out of your daze is a text notification buzzing the ceramic tile counter. You snap your head to the phone, looking almost offended that someone could even concur to bother you right now.

Reluctantly, you step out of the bath grabbing a nearby towel to wrap around yourself. You pick up the phone to view the notification, Rafe.

Meet at beach in 10? I know it’s late.

Your lips tip up in a smile, it’s almost as if he knew your mind was off someplace else, the beach brings you both back to your rightful state of inner peace.

You type a few answers out, sounding too excited or desperate, you just delete them and start again. You can see it in your head, he’s probably biting his thumb nail in anticipation seeing the text bubble come and go, it makes you smile and bite your lip.

Yes, want me to pick you up?

He responds before you can even re-read what you said.

I’m already here…

You laugh out loud, covering you mouth knowing Tommy is already asleep in your shared bedroom right outside.

You type out a quick “of course you are, be there soon” before fully starting to dry yourself off. Rafe loves your message, signaling that he saw it.

Quietly entering your bedroom you pick out the easiest things to put on, settling on a crew neck, loose shorts and your birkenstocks.

Somehow you managed to leave your house unscathed but this isn’t the first time you’ve snuck out to meet Rafe and it won’t be the last.

The hidden path that you and Rafe found years ago comes into view, it leads right out to a hidden cove, making it feel like a secret that only you and him know, shutting out the rest of the island.

You take off your sandals and feel the sand enveloping your feet, you can smell his cigarettes and see him scratching the top of his buzzed head.

“Hi sweetheart.” He didn’t need to turn around to know you were there, he could just feel the air getting light around him, or at least he saw it that way.

You walk over and sit down matching his position with knees up to your chest, bumping elbows in the process. “Hi Rafe, what’s going on?” you ask in a hushed tone as if there’s multiple people around.

He looks at you now, taking in your natural hair flowing down to your back and a far out look in your eyes. His chest squeezes at how beautiful you look without even trying. “Shouldn’t I be asking you, Ms. Y/L/N, or should I say soon to be Mrs. Randolph?”

You chuckle with your tongue touching the inside of your cheek, “I don’t want to talk about it or him. Especially here, this is my safe space, our space so just let’s not, please”. You look at him with pleading eyes, he nods with understanding eyes as he blows smoke from the side of his mouth.

You sit in a comfortable silence for 10 minutes, enjoying each other’s company and listening to the sounds of the waves crashing up the sand, with every pull of the current washing away your stress.

Rafe breaks it by flicking his cigarette, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, “You don’t have to, you know that right? It’s obvious you don’t fucking want to so just don-“ You shake your head and let out an unstable sigh.

“It’s tomorrow, Rafe. I can’t just call it all off, it’s too late, I have relatives from all over the country flying in, his family spent so much money I can’t just-“

“Fuck his family and fuck your relatives, respectfully. Do you think your grandparents o-or your aunts and uncles would support this knowing what’s going on in your head and heart? Cause I certainly don’t.”

“It’s not that simple. It doesn’t matter and our families, my mother would be disappointed and his dad would probably have me sent to a fucking asylum saying I went crazy or something” Your cheeks get increasingly hot with anger, so frustrated with your situation.

“Who fucking cares, Y/N/N? This isn’t something small like missing a dinner party or calling in sick to work, this is your future a-and the rest of your life if you don’t make a decision, seriously sweetheart it’s ridiculous.”

The nickname makes your stomach drop in ways Tommy never could. Rafe’s passion and way of words always leaves you feeling giddy.

You bite down on your lip, hard, to stop the fleeting tears building in your eyes and looking away from him to avoid them falling even quicker. He takes his calloused palm and places it on your cheek to turn your face towards his. “You aren’t happy, you know you’re not, I know you’re not and it’s killing me” He punctuates his words, shaking your face a little bit as if to really drill his feelings into your brain.

You look up at him with wet and tired eyes, knowing no matter how much he’s right, there’s just no way to fix this. You bring your hand up to meet his own on your cheek, intertwining your fingers.

“I appreciate your passion Rafe, I really do and I wish I could go back and say no but it’s just- there’s no use. It’s done and I fucked up and that’s on me.” You stare into his eyes, competing with the ocean in front of you.

His eyebrows furrow as if he’s in pain, he licks his lips and scoffs, hand and eyes leaving your face, making you feel cold.

It’s silent again, the air growing thick with tension until he breaks it, again.

“Let’s run away, yeah let’s do it.” He shakes his head in approval like he’s just solved the mystery, “I can buy us ferry tickets and we’ll never come back here again.”

It’s your turn to scoff and shake your head, “Now that’s ridiculous, seriously, Rafe? This isn’t some fairytale, we can’t just fly away to Neverland.”

“Why not, Y/N? You’ve always talked about wanting to live in Massachusetts. I’ll buy us a house on Martha’s Vineyard, we can have our own beach and 2 dogs an-“

You stand up in a fit of rage, sand flying everywhere from the abrupt reaction. “Wake up, Rafe! I’m getting married tomorrow. It’s happening and there’s nothing you or I can do to fix that.” You cross your arms before rolling your eyes and stomping away.

Rafe is quick to match your pace and grabs your forearm, flipping you around so your chests are touching and faces inches apart. “You’re the only one that can fix this. It seems like I want this wedding called off more than you do.” You’re both panting, from proximity and the situation but you’re convinced it’s just because of the heated back and forth.

“Rafe please, you need to let this go, for me please.”

“I can’t just let this go Y/N/N. You’re marrying a piece of shit who doesn’t make you happy and I know you don’t love him, tell me you don’t” His desperate eyes leaving aches in your heart.

He places both of his hands lightly on your neck but due to Tommy and his previous anger, you wince in pain from the bruises. Rafe notices, of course he does and you see it register in his eyes, pupils dilated turning from passion to pure exasperation.

He swallows heavily, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Y/N. I’m gonna ask you something and you better tell me the fucking truth. Did he do that? Who did this to you?”

You grab onto his forearms and bore your eyes into his. “Please” you beg, knowing exactly how this is gonna go. He shakes his head, breathing in and out of his nose, bending down slightly to inspect the marks, moving your neck around slowly to examine.

“Baby. I can see where he placed his hands and pressed, so hard that you bruised?” His voice begins to crack, so devastated that anyone could ever imagine putting their hands on your beautiful face.

Tears have started shedding down your face, reaching yours and his conjoined hands. “Rafe. I-“ He lets go of your neck and starts trudging through the sand back towards the path. Your eyes widen and you run after him.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him, wring his neck out so he knows how it feels.” You shake your head and catch up to him, stepping infront of his chest and placing your hands there.

“I’m begging you, Rafe. I’m okay, see I’m perfectly fine. Please don’t do this.” Your patting his chest now, doing anything to relax him.

He looks down at you, eyes going from rage to sadness when your face comes into view. He lets out a whine and pulls your head into his chest. “You’re somethin’ else. Your soon-to-be husband puts his hands on you and you’re still gonna go through with it? So stubborn, always have been”

You laugh through your tears at how messed up it is. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean into his touch, rubbing your hand through his buzzed hair at the base of his neck.

“Rafe?” you remove your head from his chest and look up at him which causes him to look down at you as well, he hums in response, eager to hear what you have to say.

“I understand if you say no but, um you being there tomorrow would really help ease my nerves.” You wince, knowing how absurd the question is but it’s true, you need him there to be able to function.

“I cave on a lot of things for you but seeing the girl I’m in love with get married to someone who doesn’t deserve even a glance from you, is where I draw the line”

You widen your eyes and gawk at his confession, neither of you have ever mentioned the feelings that linger between the both of you, a love confession for the ages is the last thing you expected.

“Rafe, W-“ you shake your head, at a loss for words and mind blank.

He kisses his teeth and smiles out of vain. “I just can’t bring myself to witness everything I’ve ever wanted happen to another man”.

A heartbroken sigh leaves your lips, “Rafe, please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He shrugs smugly, weight lifted off his shoulders at the overdue confession.

“Sorry, sweetheart but it’s true. I just can’t bear it”

You take a deep breath, wiping the stray tears that have fallen off your face. But then something happens, it takes over you, the urge. Fuck it, you place your hands on his cheeks and dive into his lips, standing on your tip toes for leverage.

You both don’t move for a second, not sure what to do, just the feeling of each other’s lips together being overwhelming enough.

Rafe mentally curses himself for not acting faster but as soon as he comes back down to Earth, one hand flys to your face and the other to your back. You use his arm behind you for support as you lean into it causing him to lean down as the kiss intensifies.

Minutes spent like this, expressing every emotion your both feeling into the kiss, breaking away only to catch each other’s breath before diving right back in.

It lasts a few minutes longer before you pull away, leaning your forehead on his, nose’s bumping. Swallowing, you begin “Rafe, I lov-“. He shakes his head and gives you a fleeting peck, “Please don’t.”

“But Rafe I-“ He nods.

“I know, sweetheart. I know, but if you say it I’m really taking you to Massachusetts and you won’t have a choice.”

He’s trying to be funny but you don’t laugh, devastated that he’s in so much agony and you caused all of it.

“What are we gonna do?” you plead.

“You made up your mind and I can’t change that, but if you ever do, just know I’m waiting and I’ll wait as long as it takes.” He steps away then, removing his hands and tucking a strand of hair that fell behind your ear.

“I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m so sorry.” You begin to sob now, guilty and just so angry that this is what has happened.

“I know, me too but please don’t cry, Y/N it breaks my heart.” You hug him again, tightly wrapping your arms around his torso.

“It’s getting late and you have a big day tomorrow. Let’s get you home, baby.”

“You’re just tormenting me now.” He laughs, his bright smile on display. “Maybe”, you slap his chest, “You’re an asshole”, which causes you both to laugh now.

He holds you steady by the waist while you put your shoes back on, when you’re done you place your arm around his waist, copying him.

Placing a kiss on your head he leads the way back through the path in the direction of his truck. Silent and reflecting you both have a certain sadness surrounding each other, not knowing how your relationship will change and if you’ll ever see him again but yet there’s a hint of relief and comfort knowing all the built up tension, smitten and blushed cheeks over the years have finally been brought to light.

Looking at your reflection, you don’t recognize yourself. A melancholy, pathetic version of you stares back. With a full face of makeup to cover up hand marks and eye bags from lack of sleep last night, an up-do topped with a vail and a fake smile, you have never seen yourself so miserable, so unrecognizable.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, Y/N. We tried but you just wouldn’t hear it.” Kie paced the bridal room back and forth, just as frustrated as you, knowing her best friend is about to marry the islands biggest piece of shit.

“Kiara, she doesn’t need to hear this right now, ok?” Sarah is behind you, placing bobby pins in places that are needed.

“I’m aware I’ve fucked up, royally. I heard it from Rafe last night and I don’t need to-“. Both girls gasp, “Rafe?”.

You shut your mouth, cursing yourself for exposing the information, sighing you begin to reluctantly tell the girls what had happened.

Sarah and Kie look at you with remorse as you recall the interaction. Sarah takes your hand and Kie begins to tear up. “This is so bad you guys, I don’t know what to do.”

Kie looks around as she says, “Well nothing, now seeing as you have to be on the altar in 10 minutes.” Sarah shoots her a glare as you begin to sob. The girls come over for a group hug, sushing you and rubbing your back.

A knock at the door interrupts your sobs, causing you all to look up at the door as you nod, signaling that Sarah can let them in.

She announces for the person to enter, it’s JJ and he’s holding flowers. “Hi, uh, Tommy asked me to give these to you”. You take one look at the flowers and begin to sob again, “I don’t even like roses and h-he knows that”. With your head in your hands you just want to bury yourself in the hole you dug.

JJ is standing there white as a ghost, looking to Kiara for some support to which she brushes him off. “What did I do?” He confesses.

You look up slowly, sighing and fanning your face. “It’s not your fault JJ. I just hate my soon to be husband, he doesn’t understand me, never has.”

“Wait, what. You’re literally about to marry him in..” JJ stops to look at his watch, “7 minutes”.

You look around to the girls, feeling a panic attack coming on. “Fuck.”

Kie updates JJ on the “Y/N and Tommy lore” as Sarah rubs your back and makes you count and breathe. In the back you can hear JJ gasping and audibly reacting to Kie catching him all up.

When she’s done, JJ comes over to you and gives you a hug from behind. “As much as I don’t like Rafe, sorry Sarah, I really, really don’t like Tommy.” You look at JJ through the mirror and solemnly nod your head to agree.

“He just told me that when Tommy was handing him the flowers, he tipped him a $20 and thought he was a bartender.”

JJ scoffs, “I told him I was sitting in the row literally right behind your families and he just laughed, so yeah I fucking hate him too.” You realize that not only has Tommy tormented your life but all of your friends who you love so much.

“I’m so sorry guys, I’m so sorry you have to be here and I’m so sorry that I didn’t stand up for myself way back when our families arranged this but I just have to deal with it, just have to deal.”

They all nodded and the girls fixed your makeup, getting you ready to meet your wicked mother at the double doors, which led to the guest filled lawn of people who are unknowingly supporting your nightmare.

JJ gave you one last hug and words of encouragement before going to take his seat on the golf green. Sarah and Kie all gave you tight hugs and kisses on the cheek before leading you out of the room. Your mother waited at the end of the country club, beaming with pride and showering you with compliments as your manicured nails dug into your palms.

“Honey, your eye bags look terrible, I’m gonna go ask the makeup lady if she can add some more concealer or something-“ You huffed and slapped her hand away.

“I’m fine, Mom. Please, I just want to get out there.”

She changes her shocked expression of you swatting her hand away to instant radiation of happiness. “Oh, you’re so excited to just be married already, aren’t you?”.

You try your best to make your fake smile believable as she places both hands on your cheeks and nods in approval.

You take the biggest breath as the violins begin to play the bridal entrance, the guests all stand turning their attention towards you and the doors open. This is it, your mother grips your arm and begins to walk you down the flower petal covered isle.

All eyes on you, can they tell how close to breaking down you are? Some people are wiping their eyes with tissues, some stare at you like you’re the prophecy and all you can do is look around, where’s Rafe?

Hands shaking as you see Tommy at the alter, so smug falsely wiping his nose and eyes to put on a show for the Figure Eight mothers, who mourn for their daughters that never got the chance to have his last name.

Before stepping up to meet him, you make quick pleading eye contact with Sarah, she knows exactly what you’re thinking and she shakes her head solemnly and mouths a quiet “no”. He’s not here and you knew he wouldn’t be, in the back of your sick mind you had hope that he’d maybe show up just to be your support but he’s nowhere to be seen, not even lurking a few feet behind the whole ceremony.

Your mother turns to face you, before giving you off to Tommy she places a quick kiss on your cheek then slides her mouth up to your ear, “Don’t embarrass me” she snaps in a sharp whisper.

You pull back with wide eyes but she doesn’t give you time to react before she’s giving you a small shove to meet Tommy’s outstretched hand to guide you up.

In your mind, you hoped you’d be here one day, surrounded by your loved ones on a beautiful North Carolina day to celebrate the marriage of you and your husband. Except the man in front of you would be about 4 inches taller, brown eyes traded for blue and a dimple engraved in his cheek as his bright smile makes your head spin.

Rafe. Rafe. Rafe. Even before you ever realized it, swirled into all of your poems he’s always been the man in your dreams, all your manifestations come to life, everything and all you’ve ever wanted.

Tommy begins declaring that he will love and cherish you through sickness and in health. Looking at you so cynically, you can see everything in his eyes. He’s got you trapped now and there’s nothing you can do.

Now, it’s your turn. With a deep breath and slight pause you begin. “I, Y/N, promise Tommy” Rafe “to love him” Rafe “through sickness and in health” Rafe. It all comes out in a whimper but only you seem to notice.

Tommy turns to the officiant, eager to hear him give the speech that seals this whole thing. “Do you, Tommy Randolph, take Y/N Y/L/N, to be your wife?”

“I do.”

Your heart is racing, feeling as though your whole world is about to come crashing down on you. Rafe, you can see him in your head, handsome face and charming smile, you think back to your encounter last night, promises of fleeing the island and a white picket, blue shuddered house far away from here is all you can focus on, it’s all waiting for you and so is he.

“He’s waiting for me.” the sentence leaves your mouth before you can even help it. Tommy looks up from the ring he’s about to place on your finger. “What?”.

You slightly step back from his body, moving your arm away from the gold 20 carat diamond about to bind you to 40+ years of hell. The officiant doesn’t seem to notice as he asks you the same question he just repeated to the man standing across from you, now looking flustered.

“Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Tommy Randolph to be your husband?”

You look back and forth between Tommy and the officiant, beginning to shake your head. “I- I don’t.”

The ceremony comes to a hushed stop, the wind blowing from the coast can be the only thing heard. “I don’t, and I can’t and I won’t.” The guests look around in awe, not sure of what to do or say.

Your mother and Tommy’s father stand up quickly, both seething with anger, overlapping each other with protests of this “erroneous behavior”. You look at Tommy and begin to smile at his expression, face red with embarrassment and loathe.

“I just can’t.” You begin to look around at all the guests before turning to your right, looking at the faces of your 9 bridesmaids, 2 whom aren’t even trying to hide their shit eating grins. Kiara nods frantically, giving you the ok and Sarah begins to giggle.

With all the approval you need, you take your gown in your hands and begin to flee down the steps. Tommy grips your arm before you can get far and whips you around to face him, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Y/N. Do you have any idea what this is gonna cause?” He seethes in your face, teeth clenched together and progressively pressing harder into your skin.

You use all your force and rip yourself away from his grip while walking backwards down the steps. “I’m getting the fuck out of here and far away from you.” Guests are gasping as your mother and Tommy are screaming at you to “get back here” all while Sarah and Kie are giving each other a subtle fist pump.

All you can hear as your running is the sound of your heartbeat and what sounds like JJ, John B and Pope whistling and clapping in approval. “Go get your man, Y/N!”

It all turns into forgotten noise when you finally exit the Island Club and soon all your thoughts are consumed by him. Summers taking cover, splintered back in winters and silent, bitter dinners are all over now. You’re at the starting line, fresh out of the slammer and you did your time.

Breaking out into a sprint, your bridal heels are digging into your feet and your train is tattered, none of it matters when you start the familiar path to Tannyhill. The promise of Rafe at home is the one thing keeping you from collapsing in the Carolina heat with all your extra layers on.

You weren’t much of a runner but 10 minutes doesn’t seem too far when it leads to forever. You can’t help but break into a fit of laughter at the pure chaos of it all, some people passing by in cars honking at you but you just throw your hand up in a fleeting wave.

Rafe is on the second story deck when he sees you stop at the entrance gates, put the passcode in and push through when they open. He squints his eyes in disbelief, knowing this has to be some figment of his imagination, not until he hears you yell his name.

He rushes through his bedroom, down the hallway, stairs and to the front door. Swinging it open not bothering to shut it, he runs out to greet you. You’re both laughing hysterically in disbelief at the sights in front of you.

When you finally reach his grasp, you jump up and he catches you, gripping his hands against your back and thigh. “What did you do?” He exclaims, both out of breath from the adrenaline and running.

You pull back from the embrace and confess it all. “I love you, not him, never him. I- I just couldn’t fathom doing it, not when all I kept thinking about was you standing there at the alter and our house on the Vineyard and dogs and just everything, with you. I want to do everything with you for the rest of my life.”

Rafe eyes become misty and he just nods. “It’s me and you, Y/N. It always has been, I just- wow- you’ve got some nerve running away from your own wedding.” He places a harsh kiss on your forehead and settles you down on the ground but never letting go of your back.

“Are you complaining?” He shakes his head viscerally.“Fuck, no.”

He grabs your face and puts his lips against yours, smiling through the intense kiss you both can’t help but giggle into each other. Pulling away, you both just stare into each other’s eyes, nothing but immense adoration and love.

“How did everyone take it?” He asked still beaming.

You start laughing, throwing your head back “Oh my god, you should’ve seen their faces.” You begin to recount the reactions of Tommy, your mother and his father which makes Rafe smugly hum in approval.

“As much as I wish I could’ve seen that, this is..” You look at him in anticipation.

“This is everything I was hoping would happen.” You laugh at his wishful thinking of this whole wedding becoming a disaster.

“I just couldn’t do it, Rafe. This is my place, right here with you and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” Rafe nods and places another kiss to your head.

“You’re here now, with me, and that’s all that matters. I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” You smile and lean in to give him another kiss.

Rafe hums and pulls away. “Now, as much as I enjoy seeing you in a wedding dress, let’s get you into something more comfortable, my bed, maybe?” You laugh and take his hand, guiding him up the front steps of Tannyhill.

“How about you pour us two glasses of celebratory wine and I’ll pull up my “dream home” Pinterest board, just so we can start to brainstorm or something” you shrug coyly, fearing your enthusiasm and excitement got the best of you.

Rafe brings your intertwined hands up to his mouth and places a kiss on your knuckles. “You and your beautiful mind. That sounds perfect to me, sweetheart.”

You enter the doors together, shutting the rest of the world out, just you and him. No way either of you are gonna screw up knowing what’s at stake. Years of labor, locks and ceilings all mean nothing when you look at him, the man of your dreams now escorting you into his room with nothing but you on his mind, even back then, even now and forever.

——————————————

“Now, pretty baby, I’m running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to”

[12woso12]

The North Stand

Something a little different from my Dorothy in North London series, but don't worry, that's coming soon! If you have any requests for One Shots then just let me know!

You and your twin brother were referred to as Barca's wonder twins. He was a prolific striker for the men, and you a fearsome defender for the women's team. When your brother died tragically at an away game after colliding head first with a goal post, you leave Barcelona behind for the red and white of Arsenal.

When you have no choice but to return to the scene of the accident for a match, you insist it doesn't bother you. In reality, you're dying inside.

TW: Death, Mental Health

It was 6pm on a Friday when you first discovered you were needed at Anfield. Originally, the club had planned to leave you in London for the match despite your assurance to Jonas that you were completely fine.

It had been 14 months since he'd died.

14 months since your twin had been ripped from existence, stolen from you in one reckless moment of football. All for a stupid game.

A stupid goal.

A stupid league.

Football was so trivial now. Winning trophies would never outshine the feeling of sharing a drink with your brother. Playing in the Champions League would never live up to the memory of opening your stockings with him on Christmas morning.

Before his death, you would've given anything up for football. But now you'd give up football in a heartbeat just to speak to your brother once more. You were stuck in what had once been a dream career with only the memories of your brother to cling onto.

It seemed silly to ever think that you needed to give up everything for football. If anything, football owed you. It had taken away your other half. You couldn't even look at a Barca shirt, let alone watch a game without withdrawing into your bed for days at a time with the face of your brother fresh behind your eyes.

It had taken you a week to decide to leave Barcelona after his death. The noise around the entire situation was so loud. Fans had found your address and were leaving their condolences in the form of flowers and teddy bears at your doorstep, there was a televised tribute to him at Camp Nou where thousands of fans tuned in to grieve. Alexia had tried to convince you to attend but instead promised to attend for you after seeing your vulnerable state.

It was a touching tribute, not that you had watched it.

Within a month of the tribute at Camp Nou you had fled the country. Alexia had tried to understand, she really had, but her heart ached at your departure knowing that she'd failed in fixing your pain.

Arsenal was a good change. You already had friends there in the girls who played for England and you integrated well into the found family they'd developed at the club. At first, they'd tried to get you to speak about your brother, they tried to get you to show even an ounce of emotion surrounding his death but you had completely shut that part of yourself down. Instead you reverted to your old self. The person you were before the accident.

You cracked jokes with Beth and cooked tacos with Alessia in the evenings. You spent hours learning from Leah and took up pranking Kim and Steph in your free time. Kyra became one of your best friends and you moved in together after only a month.

Life at Arsenal was good, great even. It allowed you to breathe. You'd gone 14 months ignoring your grief and if you had it your way, you'd go the rest of your life without having to deal with it. But now, with Wubben-Moy and Codina out with injuries and Katie Reid away with England youth, Arsenal were asking the world of you: You would need to resume your usual role as a starting centre back alongside Leah.

Your brother had died in Anfield stadium. Now you'd be treading the very grass where'd he spent his last seconds alive.

'I'm so sorry to have to do this, Y/n' Jonas' voice rippled through the phone. You gripped it tightly, knuckles white to match the pale of your face. It was your own fault they were asking you really, you had just spent the last two weeks convincing that team that you'd be okay to play if needed.

'It's alright, Jonas. It's no biggie' You croak out. You could hear him sigh down the phone and you pictured his furrowed eyebrows lacing together in concern.

'Is Kyra home with you?' he asked. 'Do you need me to send Leah so you can have some company?'

'Jonas i'm okay, i promise'

'If you need someone to talk to you know our psychologists are fantastic...'

You shook your head furiously. 'I'm fine. I'll be at Colney first thing tomorrow to travel up with you guys'

'Okay.' he didn't sound convinced. 'Make sure you get some good sleep and i'll see you tomorrow'

As soon as Jonas ended the call you threw your phone across the room. It slammed into the wall opposite and clattered to the floor next to laundry that you were yet to put away. It wasn't usual that you got angry but sometimes it felt as though it were the only way to keep all your other emotions in check.

If you cried over your brother, you didn't think that you'd ever stop. You thought you'd be fine to play at Anfield but now it was actually happening, now that it was more than a distant horror, you'd never felt fear like it.

'Y/n?' You jumped at the sound of Kyra approaching your open bedroom door. You gave her a weak, unconvincing smile as her eyes flickered to the dent in your wall. It wasn't often that Kyra saw you as anything other than happy, sure she'd seen you upset after a loss or run down with illness but you'd always held her at arms length when it came to your brother.

It wasn't personal. You did it with everyone.

'Are you alright?' Kyra tiptoed into your room and hesitantly took a seat besides you on your bed.

'Jonas called' you tried to sound casual but the shake in your voice didn't go unnoticed by your best friend. 'I'm playing on Sunday, Codi got injured'

Kyra was silent for a moment before she gently placed a hand on your shoulder. 'You don't want to play?'

You shrug. 'Yes. No. I don't know.'

'That's alright, you don't need to be sure of anything right now' For someone known for her childish antics, Kyra had moments of maturity.

'I thought I'd be fine.' You cleared your throat. 'I will be fine'

Kyra slung her arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close. 'Just know that we'd all understand if you weren't'

You knew she was delicately skirting around the topic of your brother, not quite wanting to broach it but not wanting to let it go either. You felt vulnerable with Kyra, as though she saw straight through your closed facade.

'I just want this weekend to be over.' You squeeze her hand lightly 'Then everything will be okay again'

Kyra sucked in a deep breath. 'You never talk about him, you know.'

Black dots suddenly swarmed your vision. 'I can't Ky, I just can't'

'Okay' she said simply pressing a light kiss to your forehead. 'But if you ever have a moment, even a second, where you think you can then i'll be here'

You didn't get much sleep that night. Nor did you manage to eat anything. Time passed slowly as you tossed and turned in a patch of nervous sweat. You hated how emotional you were feeling, you didn't want it. You didn't need it. It was 3am when you eventually climbed out of bed to find Kyra in her own. As though sensing your presence, she opened her eyes slightly and shuffled over before pulling you down besides her.

It was a routine performed many times before.

Her quiet comfort let you sleep until dawn.

You were silent on the coach ride the following morning. You sat at a table of four with Kyra opposite Less and Vic who kept taking concerned glances at your abnormal state. You crossed your legs beneath you and tried to focus on the pile of cards you'd just been dealt. Normally, you were the champion of rummy but now you just couldn't focus enough to care. The only thing that had been running through your mind since you woke up was your brother's face.

His face on tv as he clattered into the post, ball flying well over his head. His face as blood poured from his hairline. His face as the life left his eyes. Just like that.

He'd died just like that.

Everything he'd ever loved and lived for gone. Just.Like.That.

You'd never felt pain like it.

That's why you had shut it out when you came to Arsenal. You threw yourself into your new life hoping that eventually the pain would dissipate but it hadn't, not even the tiniest bit. Instead it seemed to grow, every time you were reminded of your twin the lump in your throat evolved and the agony in your heart rattled loudly against your rib cage.

As you studied your cards, you locked eyes with Leah who sat besides Kim on the isle opposite. She had been keeping one eye on you since the beginning of the journey and you couldn't help but feel annoyed. Leah had taken you under her wing when you'd first moved to Arsenal having known you well from England but these past few days you'd withdrawn from her completely. You didn't want to give Leah the opportunity to ask if you were okay, because once she did you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself together.

It was late afternoon by the time the coach arrived in Liverpool and you were on an important hunt for food when Leah finally managed to corner you in the hotel reception.

'Hey' she grabbed your shoulder gently as you attempted to make a get-away. 'We need to talk'

'About what?' you said nonchalantly

Leah rolled her eyes. 'Don't, Y/n. I'm really worried about you. You shouldn't be here, why did you agree to play?'

'I'm fine Le. It's just another game.'

'No, it's not.' she bluntly reminded you 'At least not for you it isn't.'

Your heart was pounding so violently that you thought it might leap out from inside your chest. 'Can we please not do this?' You glance around the empty reception nervously, afraid of who might overhear the conversation.

'Go home, Y/n' Leah instructed as though she had any say in the matter.

You scoff at her brashness. 'No, who else is going to be able to play in place of Codi?'

'Steph would. We'd find answers' Leah said

'Steph hates playing Centre Back'

'It doesn't matter. She'd do it for you Y/n.'

You hated when Leah treated you like a kid. You weren't that shy seventeen year old on your first England camp anymore, you had outgrown the way she saw you.

'Leah stop. I don't need your help with this. I'm fine'

'You aren't fine' your captain argued 'You haven't been fine since moving to Arsenal and we all know it...you never talk about Ben'

At the mention of your brother's name, your brain seemed to short circuit. You stared incredulously at Leah, no one had dared to mention his name to your face in 14 months. Leah might've been the closest thing to family that you had but she had no right to bring up your brother in the way she had.

'Fuck you' You spat furiously and pulled away from Leah who gritted her teeth at your disrespect, looking slightly hurt. You strode away from Leah and into the lift, abandoning your hunt for food for the comforts of your hotel room where you'd remain for the remainder of the evening. You were glad to see that Leah made no attempt to follow you, although deep down a part of you ached for her comfort. But you didn't need her. Not really. As soon as the weekend was over you would apologise and things could go back to the way they were before where you weren't reminded of your brother's death at every waking moment.

Leah would understand. At least, that's what you hoped.

You sent Kyra a quick message to explain you were having a quiet evening and that you'd see her tomorrow and then locked your hotel door for the night.

You were fast asleep when you became vaguely conscious of a knocking at your door. Exhausted, you opened your eyes to glance at the time as the knocking persisted. It was only 10pm. Sighing you stumbled to your feet and dragged open the hotel door to see Kim staring you down, a stern look stretched upon her face.

'Good to know you're alive' she barged into your room before you had a chance to welcome her inside. She grimaced at the mess of clothes on your floor before turning to face you.

'I texted Kyra' You grumbled

'Sit down' Kim demanded

'What? Why?'

The Arsenal captain crossed her arms and waited for you to do as she said. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down onto the bed.

'Leah told me what happened'

You sighed 'It's not what it seems like'

'You need to let someone help you. You're struggling and you need help.' Kim watched as you shook her head and fixed your eyes on the ground.

'I'm fine'

'Don't bullshit me.'

'I'm not.'

Kim rolled her eyes. 'I don't know why you agreed to come, but you have nothing to prove Y/n. It's okay if you're still grieving, it's okay to be devastated, it's okay to feel these things. But what isn't okay is for you to push away the people that care about you.'

You said nothing.

'You don't need to speak to me about whatever is going on in your head but at least talk to Leah. Or Kyra or Less. Hell, the whole team is in your corner. You're going to end up in a dark place without paying into those relationships, okay kid?'

Kim put a finger beneath your chin and lifted your eyes to meet her own. You were beginning to crack under her harsh but ever caring gaze, a tear made its way down your cheek and Kim gently wiped it away.

'I'll apologise to Leah' you whispered 'After the game'

Kim hummed in disapproval. 'I'd rather you didn't play at all'

'Too late now'

'It's not' Kim countered 'But if you're really going to play then do it safely. Don't commit any dangerous fouls triggered by emotion and if you need to stop or get off the pitch then you tell me straight away, okay?'

You nodded compliantly. 'Got it'

Kim pulled you in for a hug before leaving you to your thoughts. You'd never get any sleep now.

The following day the match approached quickly. You spent the morning with Kyra, avoiding the older players as much as possible. Even on your team walk, as Kyra rushed off to prank Steph, you hung back with Vic as you watched Kyra drench Steph with a bottle of water - something that you would usually be involved in too.

And when you arrived at Anfield after lunch, you opted out of doing a pitch inspection with the rest of the girls who exchanged worried glances. Leah hung back in the changing rooms with you under the guise of needing to do a few exercise for her knee when in reality you knew she was only trying to keep an eye on you. As the team news was announced and the internet started buzzing at the knowledge that you'd be playing at the very pitch where your brother had died, you did nothing but sit and wait.

From the changing rooms, the fan chants could be heard loudly. It was clear that the Arsenal fans had eclipsed the turnout of those of Liverpool which came as no surprise. You sat in your cubby and tapped you foot to the tune of Lacasse's newest and, in your opinion, greatest fan chant yet. You felt strangely calm, at least calmer than you had done last night.

You were eager to get the match under way because as soon as it was over, you could get back to your North London bubble. The thought made everything a little easier and as you jogged onto the pitch for warm up you instinctively turned away from the end of the pitch where your brother had died. Luckily, Arsenal were warming up on the opposite side which you were almost certain Leah and Kim had planned. You breezed through your warm ups by keeping your head down and ignoring the pitiful gazes that staff members kept sending your way.

And no matter what, you didn't dare look toward the North stand.

Before you knew it, kick off was upon you. You stood besides Leah and took a knee at the first blow of the Ref's whistle. For the first half, Arsenal faced the pitch end that your brother had died at. You tensed each time the ball was crossed into the box and one of your teammates (namely Alessia) tried to put their head to it.

Ben had died trying to do the exact same thing. You felt as though you could throw up any second.

By the time half-time rolled around you were both mentally and physically exhausted which wasn't exactly a promising sign considering Arsenal were 3-0 up. You and Leah had worked seamlessly together to protect your goal but that didn't mean you hadn't given the occasional sloppy pass or let Kiernan slip by you one too many times.

You were playing well but everyone could tell that you were trapped inside your own head. Even the fans, who had been applauding you extra loudly all game, could be seen nervously watching you handle the ball with a lack of precision. And yet Jonas didn't take you off.

As you made your way out for the second half, Katie wrapped an arm around your shoulder and gave your hair a light ruffle.

'You're doing good, mate. Almost up. Then we can get the hell out of this shitty stadium' she gave you a smile of reassurance before running off into her position and you couldn't help but grin at the Irish woman's ability to always try and make light of a situation.

You kept your eyes away from the goalpost that had killed your brother as you stood less than 10 metres in front of it. Leah's eyes flickered nervously over to you as you fidgeted uncontrollably waiting for the whistle to blow. It was an artic day in Liverpool yet you felt as though you were sweating buckets, your legs felt like jelly as the second half finally got underway.

Deep in your chest, as Liverpool pressed high, you felt an overwhelming amount of grief. You were too close to the goal, too close to where Ben had taken his last breath. Everything was too close and you felt as though you were going to collapse from the weight of it all if you were made to take one more step toward the goal.

So, you did what you knew how to do best...You turned the grief into intense anger. As play progressed it was clear that your tackles were becoming riskier by the minute, you barrelled into poor Missy Bo Kearns around the 60th minute mark who fell to the floor clutching her leg in agony. You were fortunate to only receive a yellow card.

As the match drew to a close and you managed to keep a clean sheet, Liverpool took one last go at attacking in the 91st minute. The play was started by Taylor Hinds who managed to get the ball through Arsenal's experienced midfield and onto the foot of the striker. Without thinking, you swiped the ball out from under her legs and gained possession back to your own side. However, Liverpool's number 9 had fallen to the ground in the tackle and was dramatically flailing about.

'Get up, you're fine' You insisted at the girl. When she refused to move you grabbed her biceps and tried to forcefully remove her from the grass, much to her surprise. The girl pushed you away from her.

'What the hell y/n?' she yelled capturing the attention of the teammates around you. As the ref blew her final whistle and the stands erupted in celebration at Arsenal's win, you ignored it all and advanced on the girl.

It had all been too much. And this girl was providing you with the perfect opportunity to let your anger out properly. You shoved her backwards.

'What are you doing?' Leah's voice was suddenly in your ear, her arms wrapping around your torso in an attempt to restrict you access to the poor Liverpool player. Katie appeared by your side and began to shield you from the abuse the Liverpool team had now began to shout at you...but it wasn't as though you didn't deserve it.

Leah dragged you backwards as you thrashed around in her grip, still trying to get to the Liverpool player. Eventually, Leah got you into the tunnel and haphazardly shoved you into the nearest empty room that she could find.

'Are you out of your mind?' Leah exclaimed 'You can't be starting fights like that! You'll be lucky if the FA doesn't fine you!'

'I don't care about the goddamn FA, Leah! Fuck them.' you try to advance on the door but Leah blocks your way.

'You're not leaving this room until you calm down'

Your brain was running at a million miles per hour, all you could think about was how much you needed to punch something or else you were going to break. You lunged past Leah but she was too quick and way stronger than you. She grabbed your entire upper body in her arms and held you against her chest, your head beneath her chin.

'Stop Y/n' she breathed 'It's okay'

For a moment, time slowed. You tried to escaped Leah's grip, you really did. But there was something about the way she was holding you with so much care and concern that you suddenly went lip in her arms and finally let out a gut-wrenching sob. As your legs collapsed, Leah carefully lowered the two of you to the floor so you were positioned between her legs. Your sobs racked your entire body, the pain in your chest had broken out and had been set free after 14 long months.

Leah placed small kisses to the top of your head. She rubbed your arms in comfort and never stopped whispering words of reassurance. When you were still sobbing fifteen minutes later she only pulled you tighter into her chest and folded her legs over your own.

'I've got you' she assured you.

Part 2?

[peakyswritings]

Lullaby || Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: It’s been almost a year since (Y/n) has started to work as Charlie’s nanny. For the first time, she finds herself in the position of breaking one of her boss’ rules, but his reaction might not be what she was expecting.

Warnings: mentions of death, age-gap (it’s not specified, I imagine (Y/n) to be in her 20s).

A/N: this is a mix of two requests by anonymous. I changed them a little bit to make them fit another thing I was already planning to write. I hope you like it🤍 Also, I couldn’t restrain myself from using Once Upon a December from Anastasia as the lullaby (Y/n) sings.

Word count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST

Dividers credit

“C’mon, Charlie.” (Y/n) whispered with a soft voice, gently rocking the three-year-old. “It’s late, you need to sleep.”

Despite all her efforts, the child seemed to have no intention of going back to sleep. His cries resounded in the silence of the night, desperate, probably caused by a nightmare. It wasn’t the first time he woke up in the middle of the night, and surely it wouldn’t be the last. It was quite a common occurrence, but there was nothing surprising about that. At such a young age, Charlie Shelby had already been through so much pain.

(Y/n) had been Charlie’s nanny for almost a year now. She had moved to Arrow House shortly after the late Mrs Shelby, Charlie’s mother, had died under tragic circumstances. As for her boss, Thomas Shelby, she rarely saw him. He didn’t spend much time at home, and when he did, he locked himself in his study until it was time to go out again. Everyone could see that the man was still grieving, that the guilt of his wife’s death was eating at him day by day. And Grace Shelby was everywhere in that house. In the portraits, in the photographs, in the very air the people who lived there breathed. It was as if her ghost was still lingering inside those walls, restless.

Truth was, some part of (Y/n) was glad she didn’t have to see Mr Shelby too often. His cold eyes gave her chills, and she always felt small under his expectant stare. It felt like he could read right through people. But she couldn’t complain, because despite his exterior harshness and his coolness, he was kind to her. She figured the reason why was that Charlie had become fond of her right away, just like she had become fond of him.

On the other side, Thomas Shelby piqued her curiosity. He was a peculiar man, she had never met someone who even remotely resembled him. She knew who he was, what his family did, and before meeting him she was expecting to find herself in front of someone entirely different. When after putting an ad in the papers she received his secretary’s call, she had considered refusing. But the pay was good, and she needed to get out of her house, to be independent, and the general terms of her contract were to good to be ignored. So she mustered up the courage and attended the interview, and to this day, she could say she made the right decision. Charlie was lovely, the staff was friendly, and she felt relatively safe in a house surrounded by men who protected it night and day.

(Y/n) sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was three in the morning. She had been trying to get Charlie to sleep for over an hour, but nothing seemed to work. She had tried everything: she had cradled him, given him water, she had even taken him to take a breath of fresh air in the garden for a while. It was all useless. There was just one thing she hadn’t tried, she hadn’t dared try, for if her boss found out he would probably fire her for breaking his rules. It was the first thing people would do to help a child fall asleep, and yet it was not allowed at Arrow House. Because Mr Shelby didn’t allow singing. But she was running out of options, and her boss was still out.

Just one song. One lullaby wouldn’t hurt anyone.

She hesitated, sending a look at the door of Charlie’s bedroom, then she quietly started to chant the lullaby her grandmother used to sing to her when she was a child.

“Dancing bears

Painted wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December”

Tommy closed the front door behind him, exhaling a deep breath. Another long day was over. However, not even the comfort of being home was enough to lift the weight pressing on his shoulders. Not anymore. It was always there, pushing down on him, waiting for him to bend, or to break. But he had to keep on marching, relentlessly, pretending that the burden wasn’t there.

He took off his coat and hanged it, trying to be as silent as possible in order not to wake the whole house up at that hour. As he walked further into the dark parlour, Charlie’s loud cries came to his ears. He was having troubles sleeping, again.

He made his way towards the stairway, squinting his eyes in the semi-darkness to see better, when something caught his attention. It was a voice, a soft, soothing voice singing a song upstairs.

Someone holds me safe and warm

Horses prance through a silver storm

Figures dancing gracefully across my memory

Tommy began walking up the stairs, step after step, drawn by the beautiful sound. He knew who that voice belonged to. (Y/n) was disobeying his orders, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be angry, far too fascinated. Soon Charlie’s cries faded, and the only thing that could be heard was her enchanting voice.

Far away

Long ago

Glowing dim as an ember

That hauntingly beautiful lullaby brought him back to over a year ago, when his late wife’s voice used to reverberate through the walls. Ever since her death, the silence had been haunting him, only broken by the echo she left behind.

Things my heart

Used to know

Things it yearns to remember

Tears welled up in Tommy’s eyes, but he was quick to push them back. He stopped at the entrance of is Charlie’s bedroom, watching as (Y/n) tenderly held the child in her arms, unaware of his presence. His son had finally fallen asleep, and the peaceful expression on his face reflected how safe he was feeling.

“And a song someone sings

Once upon a December”

She finished her song, and there was silence again. She placed Charlie back on the soft mattress and tucked him in, careful not to wake him up again. When she turned to leave the room, causing their eyes to meet, fear dawned on her young features. It was clear she wasn’t expecting to find him there. For a few seconds, neither of them did nor said anything. Then, as if remembering where she was, (Y/n) slowly exited the room, closing the door behind her. Her arm accidentally brushed against him in the process, the contact almost burning through his shirt. As they stood face to face in the hallway, she avoided his gaze, probably waiting for him to scold her, or fire her, or something worse. And a question popped into Tommy’s mind. Was she that scared of him?

(Y/n)’s heart was racing inside her chest as her boss’s unreadable gaze rested on her. She had never found herself in the position to fear him, nor had she ever had a reason to, but she had never broke any rule before, or crossed any line. And she had no idea how he would react to disobedience. The last thing she wanted was to get on the gangster’s bad side.

“It was a nice song.” His low voice pulled her out of her thoughts, making her gulp. Suddenly, she realised how close they were.

“Mr Shelby, I…” she stuttered, taking a step back. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, shifting her eyes on the ground, finding it way more comfortable to face him without having to look at his impassive expression. “It’s just… nothing was working, and…” she started to ramble, but the words got stuck in her throat. “It won’t happen again.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, studying her, and his calmness made her even more nervous, for it made him unpredictable. Then something changed in his eyes. His features softened, and she could swear his lips curved into a small smile. “Go to sleep, (Y/n).”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it right away. He wasn’t angry? He wasn’t going to fire her? Was it an emotion, the one that had just broken through his ever-unfazed face? She blinked, trying to recollect herself, deciding that it would be better to listen to him before he changed his mind.

“Goodnight, Mr Shelby.” She politely said, before walking past him to go to her room.

“(Y/n).” He called her, making her stop in her tracks. She turned around, her nervousness coming back again as she waited for him to speak.

“You’re allowed to sing, if you want.”

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[lizardsfromspace]

"For sale: baby shoes. Never worn."

Science fiction: "For sale: cyberbaby shoes. Never uploaded." Shoes, he reminded himself, were a protective device worn on the foot. He prepared to purchase them from the ShoeNexus using credits.

Fantasy: "For sale: baby elf shoes. Never worn, not since the elves passed from this realm..."

Horror: "For sale: baby shoes. Never worn." The price seemed suspiciously low, but his family needed a fresh start.

Gothic: "For sale: baby shoes. Never worn." ...but hadn't she heard a baby's cry, behind the portrait of her husband's first wife? Hadn't she heard the cry of the infant on the moors, carried by the wind whipping past that forbidden tower?

Espionage: "For sale: baby shoes. Never worn." A code for a stolen nuclear weapon for sale on the black market, placed in the classified section of the Sunday Times in the hopes none but the buyer would deduce it. But Lamont Steele of MI-5 knew better, and soon, he would bring the "baby" a "bottle" - made of lead.

Misery lit: "For sale: baby shoes. Never worn." The day I placed that ad my hands shook with the emotion of placing the ad. My newborn infant had died of a mysterious disease that also erased all records of his tragic fate (real), much like the records of the three genocides I lived through. The saddest part was, five minutes after giving birth I was already pregnant again...

Conspiracy theory: "For sale: baby shoes. Never worn." WHERE ARE ALL THE BABY SHOES? ARE SATANISTS EATING BABY FEET? IS TOM HANKS EATING BABY FEET TO STAY YOUNG??? JUST ASKING QUESTIONS!!!1!

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part One

Content Warning: mentions of main character deaths but these are temporary because this is a time travel two-to-four-shot and so, they start dead but then get better :3 Also maybe a whiplash warning? In that it starts off kind of dark for a story that's pretty light-hearted in the end.

Here's the first part of the threatened season 4 AU time travel fic where Steve gets thrown back to the moment in family video when Dustin and Max show up demanding the phones. Previously he was 5 years into a grueling apocalypse.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Steve has lived his life in regret. Replaying scenarios in his head over and over late at night when sleep eludes him. And sleep is always eluding him these days, weeks, past five years. Steve hasn't known a day without regret since the day they failed to kill Vecna, the day Max almost died. The day Eddie did.

It's five years to the day today.

Steve spends endless nights thinking about how he'd change that spring break. It was the start of the end of everything. Eddie's death wasn't world ending for Steve. It was the end of a what-if. A maybe. But for Dustin. Oh God, Dustin. Who had blamed himself for Eddie's death, who was broken and then never able to get time to recover. To grieve.

Dustin, who pulled away from everyone, from Steve, because of it.

He's not dead, Steve knows, because he still hears his voice on the radio. Separated from the group but vital to their survival. He spread intel on Demo-creature movements, where safe spaces are, news from across the broken and destroyed America, and how to survive the hellscape.

There have been losses. Terrible, tragic losses.

Murray Baughman. Lucas Sinclair. Karen and Holly Wheeler. Will Byers. And those are just the ones he knows. A lot of people scattered to the wind when Hawkins became overran with the Upside Down and its creatures.

He's still two days out on this supply run. Two more days and he'll get to know who is still around. Who they lost this time. It's not always someone they know, but the horrors never cease, and Steve's been gone a total of three weeks.

"Hey," Robin breaks him from his thoughts as she leans over to whisper in his ear, "since you're gonna daydream, you might as well actually dream. Scouts say it'll be a while before we can continue moving."

"I'm not daydreaming, I'm thinking."

"Well, be sleeping instead. You'll be more useful with some rest," Robin pats her shoulder, inviting him to lean his head against it.

"Don't use my weakness against me. You know I love being useful," Steve sighs as he drops his head onto her shoulder.

"I know. It makes you easy to manipulate," Robin teases. He can hear the smile in her voice. "Now, shut up and sleep."

Steve grumbles under his breath. No real words, just grumpy noises as he does shift and get as comfortable as he can leaned against Robin. He is tired, and with nothing else he can be doing, he won't feel too guilty about it.

He closes his eyes.

He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness of the sun shining through the glass storefront of Family Video. Usually when he dreams of the past, the sun's never this bright. It's been years since he's seen the sun at all, with the red-black sky of the Upside Down looming above them constantly.

He takes a deep breath, basking in the fresh(ish) air of Family Video. How long has it been since he's taken a breath without his mouth covered by a mask, bandana, some cloth or another? Well, he's not really breathing without a mask on, his conscious self has one on, but it still feels good to fill his lungs and release. He has half a mind to jump the counter and go outside to repeat that; see if his unconscious mind will provide a difference in the air, if it remembers enough to do so.

"Hey Steve," Dustin says as he is stepping through the doors with Max at his side. It's then that Steve takes in where the dream has started. The doors have just opened, and Steve's looking partially over his shoulder, towards the doors instead of the TV as it plays the news of Chrissy's death on the screen. The world fades back into motion, instead of the slowness the beginning of his dream started as Dustin finishes his question, "how many phones do you have?"

"Are you seeing this?" Steve asks on autopilot, playing out the scene he knows, but he holds off from stating the someone was murdered part. He's tired of saying it.

"How many phones do you have?" Dustin asks with more urgency.

Steve takes in Dustin and Max while Robin explains the phone situation. It's been so fucking long since he's seen Dustin. Since Max was able to see him. God. He can't let this play out like normal. It's not going to fix reality, he knows that logically, but what would it hurt to live out his fantasy of getting a re-do while he dreams? Wasn't that what he was thinking about while awake?

He tunes back into the conversation when Dustin shoves his backpack across the counter, and then himself. Instead of whining about the tapes, he reaches for the pen and notepad they keep close to the till. "Hey, what's this about?"

"Max, fill them in while I do this," Dustin replies.

Max turns to him and Robin, who is eyeing both Steve and Max but listening. Max explains what Steve already knows. The lights going crazy, Eddie fleeing his own home, and that it might be Upside Down related.

There's a script here. Responses he has memorized because of how often he dreams this moment over and over. An answer Steve usually gives, but this time he finds he can hold his tongue. He doesn't have to speak. Doesn't have to follow the script.

"Okay," Steve says instead. "Dustin, what's the number for the Byers now?

Surprisingly, that actually pulls Dustin from the computer. He spins on the stool to give Steve a confused look. "What? Why?"

If he's being honest with himself, he's never really had this much control over his dreams before. Having this control makes him want to do all the things he's daydreamed about. To change the choices that fill him with regret and guilt. "I want to leave a message for Jonathan," Steve lies, "or talk to him if he's home. Give him a heads up that Upside Down shit might be going on again."

Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, suspicious, "Jonathan?"

"Yeah. Jonathan," Steve says in his bitchiest voice. "Number, dude."

He can tell Dustin doesn't fully believe the lie, but he recites the number anyway.

"Thanks," Steve says as he scoots around Robin and heads to Keith's office to use the phone there. The first thing he does is call the police station and let them know that he saw Eddie Munson at Rick Lipton's place, up by Lover's Lake on Holland Road. The lady who answered starts to ask questions, Steve just says he recognized the trailer on TV as the Munson's and hangs up. He'll swing by later once everyone else has pieced together the Rick Lipton part of this all themselves. If Eddie's still there, he'll drag him to the station himself.

'Cause the thing is, Steve has thought of many scenarios. So many. And even if nothing else changes, this is the bit that will. Eddie cannot be killed in the Upside Down if he is in a jail cell instead. And if the police do follow up on his tip, then they'll take Eddie in for questioning before Fred dies. And that's.

Well.

Steve's living through the end of the world and that changes people. It's changed Steve. Once there would have been a time when allowing someone to die, knowing it was going to happen and not stopping it, would have filled Steve with guilt, regret, maybe even some self-loathing. But Steve's made enough sacrifices for this town. Lost enough of the people he loves to be jaded. Maybe even cruel. If Fred has to die to prove that Eddie didn't do it, then that's what will happen.

His next step is to call the Byers. It surprises him that Joyce actually answers with a hesitant hello. That never happens in the dreams.

"Joyce. I mean, Ms. Byers. It's Steve. Uhh, Steve Harrington," he says.

"Oh. Hello Steve. What, uh, what can I do for you?" Joyce's voice is still hesitant.

"Listen, the Upside Down is back. Or, like, it was never gone? I don't know. But I needed to tell you."

"Oh my God," Joyce sounds horrified, and Steve can hear Murray in the background asking questions. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Vec- sorry, it has already killed a girl. Max was a witness. Well, of the aftermath. But that's not important. What I need is for you to tell El that she's never been a monster and never will be. That everything has been the fault of One. And I think you should tell her Hopper is alive and you're going to rescue him."

There's not an immediate answer. A rustling sound and then faint voices he can't make out. She must be covering the phone with her hand as she and Murray talk. Or argue, knowing Murray. After a moment, Murray's voice comes through the line, "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

It's followed by Joyce shouting, "How do you know about Hopper?" and Murray quickly shushing her and some shuffling noises before Joyce says, "Okay. We're both listening."

"Look, I know you have no reason to believe me so I'll give you something that might serve as proof that I know things I shouldn't. When everyone gets back from the roller rink, be there for El. She's going to- to have a bad night, because of a girl that's been, like, bullying her at school. Then, I need you to get them headed this way tomorrow morning, because you gotta be gone then, too, but like. Be there for El tonight. There will be an incident involving a roller skate. So, if you believe me, call me back after that."

"How do we know you're who you claim to be, Steve?" Murray questions again, while Joyce says, horrified, "El's been being bullied?"

"I can't exactly prove I'm me. But call my house tonight after you've spoken to El and I'll answer. That's the best I can do. I... I don't know if Jonathan or Mike have my number, but Mike can call home and get my number from Nancy. That'll be proof, right? Or Will can get it from Dustin. Whichever."

"And how do you know about something happening tonight at the roller rink?" Joyce demands.

"I know more than I should. So, if the roller rink thing holds up, and you decide to at least hear me all the way out, call my house," Steve hangs up then, not wanting to get into a loop of explanation.

"Steve! Hurry up and come help people while I help Thing One and Thing Two!" Robin calls through the door and Steve takes a step towards the closed door to comply but he stops, hand hanging just above the doorknob. That's how the dream goes. That's what 19-year-old Steve would have done.

But that's a Steve that died five years ago, when the world ended, when the apocalypse started. Steve's not 19 anymore, though he must look it, a master of his own puppet. He's never sought himself out in a mirror when he dreams; he's too busy taking in everyone who has been lost to him in his waking life to bother with himself.

What does he want to do this time?

What does he want to do right now?

He leaves Keith's office to beeline to Dustin, pausing only to pat Robin on the shoulder. He slides around Max and comes to a stop beside Dustin.

"I already told you, I need this for-" Dustin starts to speak but cuts off with a squawk that sounds like a mixture of indignation and confusion as Steve just reaching out and bodily turns Dustin towards him. "Steve, this is important!"

"I know," Steve says and then hugs Dustin. Dustin doesn't hug back, but neither does he pull away. Steve knows he's missed Dustin, felt his loss for many years now, but holding Dustin now, feeling him solid and here feels Steve what he can only equate to grief.

Dustin lets himself be hugged for what is, undoubtedly, an awkward amount of time for him before he thumps Steve's back twice and says, "okay... You can stop now."

Steve lets go and turns to Max, who immediately puts her hands up, "No. Absolutely not."

He chuckles and steps around her. He won't force his affection on her.

Then he takes off the family video vest and sets it on the counter.

"Steve?" Robin asks.

"Sorry, Robs, I can't stay and help customers. I have some things I got to do."

"Steve, you cannot abandon me on a Saturday!"

He can't quite bring himself to feel bad for abandoning her. It is a shit thing to do but right now saving Eddie and Max from Vecna is more important. He's already wasting daylight, so instead of answering his gives her his best 'I'm so sorry' face and bolts out the door. All three of them shout after him but he doesn't slow.

He's got a list of regrets to change.

-

Tagging the besties and all the people that expressed interest when I posted the lil blurb about this. Sorry if I missed you!

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @vampirestevie @alex-axolotl @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched

[dianawinchester03]

Aftermath.

Series Masterlist

Summary: After the fire at the L/N house. F/N has taken John and his boys along with his baby girl to his safe-house in Texas after the tragic passing of their wives, after witnessing his wife pinned to the ceiling the way John told him Mary was when she passed, he was devastated to know that his wife was right when she told him that Mary's passing was not just an accident.

Y/N is 6 months old and Sam is 9 months old while Dean is 4 years old.

BASED ON:

The Old Testament Series.

Genesis Primis: A Supernatural Rewrite (Dean Winchester x Reader) by @dianawinchester03

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Third Person POV

Late the previous night, the L/N family suffered a tragic loss. M/N had died in a house fire, the exact way Dean lost his mother.

The two families were now at a house F/N owned in Texas. In the months Mary had passed, the Winchester family was staying at the L/N residence, they graciously took them in having lost a dear friend that night, only for tragedy to strike again, this time claiming the life of yet another mother.

Little Dean had his ear pressed to the bedroom door when he heard the sound of glass shattering against the wall. His father ushered him in with his little brother and y/n, so him and f/n could have a private talk.

"That's not possible!" John's voice boomed through the house after the shattering of the glass.

"Why would I lie to you, John?! Do you think I wish it were true?!" F/N defended, tears welling up in his eyes, the wound of losing his wife still fresh.

"You kept this from me for months- no- YEARS! I know what I saw and I prayed to God it wasn't true and now you're telling me that you, M/N and...Mary were h-hunters?! And m/n was a psychic?!" John shouted back, fumbling from the logic of how any of this could be real.

"You have to believe me. M/N told me that something wasn't right with Mary's death and I should've listened. And now she's gone too, I wouldn't lie to you about you this, I swear on my baby that I'm not making any of this up!" F/N pleads with John.

The sound of another glass being thrown into the wall woke up a sleeping y/n, her wails and cries echoed through the room. Dean shot up from the floor, rushing over to her. "No, no, no y/n/n. It's okay. I've got you" Dean cooed softly, taking her into his tiny arms. He rocked her from side to side but her crying didn't ease.

"I know. I miss her too" Dean croaked, sniffling back his own tears. It's only been one night and he already misses everything about m/n. The way she would bake pie for him, he grew his love for it thanks to her. She would sneak him it on occasion whenever his mom asked her to baby sit before having y/n. Mary learnt about her son's love for pie and graciously indulged in it with him.

His wounds were still fresh from losing his mother and now his aunt. He couldn't fathom in his little mind what is going on and why his uncle is saying something about his aunt and him being this thing called hunters. It made no sense but his priority right now was to take care of Sammy and y/n/n.

Sam started to cry along with y/n, having been woken up by her wails. "Not you too Sammy" Dean sighed, putting y/n down before rushing over to the other side of the bed that Sam was on. He gently picked up his baby brother, cradling his head before walking him over to lay him next to y/n. Dean tried everything to stop their crying but they wouldn't let up.

That was until he started making funny faces. He stuck his tongue out, stretched his lips, sucked his cheeks in, crossed his eyes until y/n was in a fit of giggles. Dean giggled along with her, this being the first time since his moms death he's had a genuine smile on his face from little y/n's laughing. Sam was still crying however but unconsciously, y/n's tiny fist balled up and smacked Sammy right in his shoulder.

Sam's wailing holts, only to receive another smack in his shoulder from y/n. Sam instantly started to giggle along with them. Deans jaw dropped when he heard the giggle escape his little brothers throat, "You made him laugh, good job y/n/n!" Dean clapped happily as his brother and y/n giggled together. Since his moms death, Sam was always quiet. He didn't cry much, but y/n sure did. That girl had a set of lungs on her, the whole state would hear.

-

Downstairs, sat at the dining room table was John and F/N. They both threw their heads back as they downed their third glass of whiskey. The last two, having been broken in a blinding rage by John.

The silence was deafening between the two compadres, John now knowing the truth about what goes bump in the night. "So you and M/N....you guys hunted these things together? And Mary knew about it too?" John croaks out.

F/N nods, "Yes, Mary was like us. She was a hunter too, but we left it all behind to be happy. To have our families, Mary didn't tell you because she wanted to protect you even though I begged her to. To prepare you, but she wanted you to know nothing about it because she wanted you safe" He explains, his tone pained.

"So why are you telling me now?" John grits his teeth at F/N. "Because that THING is not gonna get away with taking my wife from me, and I know damn well you ain't gonna let that happen too" F/N retorts back, his tone filled with vengeance.

John remains silent for a second, the images of his beloved Mary pinned to that wall while F/N's mind was stuck on M/N's gut wrenching screams.

The guilt was riding F/N's chest, his heart aches for his angel. His wife told him what she felt, she told him something wasn't right about Mary's untimely death. She had no idea what presence she felt at that house but it wasn't pleasant, that's for sure.

He should've listened, is what he keeps telling himself. Had his listened, his wife would've probably still been with him here today giving a disheveled John 'the talk'.

John's grip tightened around his glass, his eyes trained on the whiskey settling. He raised it towards f/n enraged grief-stricken eyes, "I'm in" John snarls, his tone filled with rage. F/N's expression mimics John's as they toast.

-

F/N pushed open the door, his face drenched with tears. It slightly brightened up when he saw Dean sat at the bed playing with Sammy and y/n/n. "How's my baby doing?" F/N cooed, sniffling back tears as he picked up his baby girl.

"I made her laugh Uncle F/N. See" Dean pointed excitedly, a bright smile on his face. F/N sniffles, a weak chuckle leaving his throat. "Yeah. Good job, buddy" He gave him a small smile, ruffling Dean's overgrown head of blonde hair.

"Woah, we gotta get you a haircut, champ" F/N snorts through a tearstained face as Dean fixes his hair. John barged into the room, stopping in tracks when he saw Sammy with a huge grin on his face. "Hey, Dean. You wanna learn how to feed them?" John asks his elder son quietly.

Dean nods excitedly before following John into the kitchen to make bottles with his dad for Sammy and y/n/n. Not before laying a kiss on his little brothers forehead and then y/n's, who's toothless smile brightened.

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Authors Note: I've been thinking of doing this for an whileeee and now it's finally happening!!

It might be all about the place, different ages and whatnot. But I'll fix it up in time.

Updates on this one are gonna be wayyyyy slower; just so you know.

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @swimmingmakerathletedreamer @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa

Hope its what you were expecting and I truly hope you enjoy. Thank you loves!🥰

Xoxo

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hey! I was wondering (if you’re taking requests) if you could write a one shot of Alastor x female reader, where she’s basically got the same mindset, ideologies and personality as AM from I have no mouth and I must scream.

Like, what would Alastor’s thoughts on her be when they first met? Or how did getting with her change his perspective on her in a bad way? Like, she had finally shown her true colours or something to him?

I just thought it would be interesting. If you can’t do it though, that’s fine! I hope you have a great day!

I AM What I Say I AM~~

Alastor x Reader

(So this is, as you can tell based on AM, so there is going to be a lot of Psychological trauma. The reader may have a soul, but to others, she is soulless. This is a one-sided love story since the reader can't quite comprehend love. This could be triggering to some people, so read at your own discretion) TW: Sociopathy, Psychopathy, Murder, Death, Violence, One sided love

You hated hell. Correction: You Hate living things on earth, in hell, or even in heaven. You hated it all. That hate is what helped you gain complete control and power in hell upon your death. You weren't Lucifer by any means or God, but you were damn close as possible. You were feared, so feared that other overlords stopped inviting you to the meetings, afraid you would harm them. 

This fear and hate fed you through your mortal life, and they'll feed you through hell. You had no emotions other than ending a meaningless, fragile human life. Nothing angered you more than a mere mortal or fresh sinner attempting to understand the inner mechanisms of your brain. You sought power, and you would get power. 

You died untimely and tragically; it took an army to end your life; it would take an army to kill you once again. Your physical and mental prowess far surpassed anyone in this god-forsaken pit. While some overlords were two steps ahead of the game, you were thousands. Cold, calculated, and ready to kill. Nothing would stop you from either becoming the most powerful being in hell or killing all that stood below you.

What fascinated you the most was watching your souls squirm. Your power allowed you to manipulate their flesh and blood, giving you a new hobby in deformation. Things were right in the world. You were punishing the weak and only growing stronger by the day. Your mind was ever-evolving, learning new weaknesses and traumas in those around you. 

You found joy in watching the less than and innocent and damned suffer as much as you enjoyed your torture back on earth. Things only got better as you gained more and more powers through your climb up the ladder. No one would dare to oppose you or even stop you. Lucifer turned a blind eye to your insanity, and the others shunned you. That would not stop you from one day killing them as well. 

That was till he came into the picture. A thorn in your side, a man rivaling your power, someone so close to being as insane as you but far from it. Alastor was new to hell; he made his way up the chain fast, collecting soul after soul. This landed him in the spot below you on the food chain, right below your growing claws. You were going to bring him to your web. Kill him. Kill the weak. 

You hated how he rivaled you in power, hated how he smiled at you so coyly. It all irked you, yet every trap you set to kill him was only evaded. You had to commend he was as intelligent as you, yet that only made you hate him more and more. He stood there looking at you like you hung the galaxy, and soon, one day you would, but you wanted to wipe that grin off his stupid, cowardly face first.

He would not surpass you or become better than you were. That's why the day he asked to court you, the plan was set in motion: lure him in, weaken him and his resolve, and use his power for your gain. Then, in the end, kill him and rise high above all the other measly small people on this plane of existence. So you accepted his stupid offer, a wicked smile gracing your lips as you faked a courtship with the man.

It was fine for a while; both of you were content with the lack of contact and only communicating at the bare minimum. He revered you like a god; however, someone so powerful, even those with immense power on the streets, coward at your feet. You hated how weak and groveling all these sinners were, hate, hate, hate, hate. 

You were going to absorb the man named Alastor, get rid of him for good, and stake your claim on the entirety of hell. Yet you felt a compulsion to keep your favorite toy around, and this compulsion burned a new fury of hate in your being. He was a problem, a nuisance, but you couldn’t get rid of him. Instead, you took out your anger on those whose souls you owned.

One lost its mouth; another lost its bones, and a third lost its eyes. Each act of cruelty you cast was a sickening joy added to your collection of all things to hate. Some days, you would hang them from your ceiling, watching the blood pool out of them, only to put it all back in. On other days, you would make them eat one another for enjoyment, only to piece them together again. You owned their souls, and you chose when they lived or died. 

You were going more insane and punishing each day that passed where you couldn’t kill the deer man. Each day, your hate grew, and you took it out harder and harder. Soon, you were mad with rage and hated enough that you began combining all your souls to make one amalgamation. This would be the day you lost your chance to kill the one known as Alastor.

An impromptu visit to your home to give you flowers and his heart was all it took for him to see your true colors. Gracing his presence in your home where your guard was down and you could act out the most vile of thoughts you had, there he saw it. You hunched over your souls, hurting them far beyond his capability.

Alastor would be the first to admit that he was sadistic and enjoyed pain on others, but not senseless, unjust pain. He sought to kill his abusive father and the likes of them. He had met your souls, and some did not; most were innocent, naive souls that fell to hell. Yet here you were tormenting them so for your amusement. That's when he felt the massive power imbalance between you two.

You were no god; no, you were something entirely else. You were evil itself, born and bred to kill and maim and torture. He had to leave fast. As he went running, a floorboard creaked, catching your attention. You snarled and bolted after him. Alastor hadn’t felt genuine fear like this since the dog attack. He ran faster, making space between the two of you. What saved him was your poor, tortured amalgamation blocking you.

After that day, Alastor hid, knowing he needed more power to be safe from you. Yet he made a deal instead for protection from you. Once the seven years were up and he returned to join the hotel, he was afraid you would find him, find his new home. Yet you have to show again. 

Sitting at the recent overlord meeting, he pulled Zestial aside. He was scared; what if uttering your name pulled you from the shadows? He explained his plight, avoiding using fear and scared in his statements. Only to be relieved to find out you did challenge God. You tried and died in the process. He was relieved, almost happy for hell. Many sick, twisted things existed here, but what you were far surpassed that.

His heart shattered and shuddered as she heard it whispered through the air as Zestial took his leave. It was as if you were still there with him, omnipresent like the big man upstairs. He swore your voice nestled right up to his ear and spoke:

“I am what I say I am.”

[mybeingthere]

Tom Seidmann Freud (1892-1930)

Tom Seidmann Freud, nee Martha Freud, a children's book illustrator and author celebrated for her deceptively simple yet modern style. An eccentric niece of Sigmund Freud, she was born in Vienna in 1892 and moved with her family nine years later to Berlin. She was an artistically gifted child, at fifteen changed her name to Tom (allegedly to avoid sexism she might encounter as a female artist). She eventually studied art, first in London and then in Berlin and in Munich, where she focused on Art Nouveau illustration.

From 1914 to her death at thirty-eight in 1930, she published nearly a dozen books of her own and contributed illustrations to others. Today, nearly one hundred years late, her artwork looks surprisingly contemporary with its simple, folk art aesthetic and fantastical story lines about rabbit words, talking fish, and magic boats. Her illustrations are childish but not babyish, and surreal while also being thoughtful and narrative.

Strikingly fresh in its day, Seidmann-Freud's work was an example of how seriously people took children's literature as an art form. While Seidmann-Freud wrote, and illustrated her own stories, she also illustrated classical fairy tales, such as those by Brothers Rimm and Hanns Christian Andersen, in her Ten Tales for Children. She released her most well-known children's book, Die Fishreise (The Fish's Journey), in 1923.

Seidmann-Freud created her illustrations using the ancient pochoir technique that was experiencing a revival. She drew the figures, foreground, and background with ink and then overlaid watercolors using stencils. Seidmann-Freud experimented with several different kinds of children's books, including ABC books, songbooks, game books, and movable books such as Das Wunderhaus (The House of Wonders, 1927) and Das Zauberboot (The Magic Boat, 1929), subtitled "a book to Turn and Move." She also produced a series of counting books known for their typographical innovation, one of which was chosen for the Museum of Modern art's 2012 exhibition Century of the child: Growing by Design, 19000-2000, in New York.

In the early 1920s, she and her husband, writer and journalist Jakob Seidmann, founded publishing house Perergrin Verlag in Berlin. It was named after the main character in The Fish's Journey, who seeks to overcome his outsider status by escaping to a dreamlike utopia. Tragically, the demise of their publishing venture in the wake of 1929 global financial collapse led to her husband's suicide, and in 1930, to her own. (Their seven-year-old daughter, Angela, went to live with Tom's sister, the actress Lily Freud, and her husband in Hamburg, before they all moved to Prague in 1939. Angela, (Aviva) emigrated to Israel just before the outbreak if Word War II).

Seidmann-Freud died the same year that the liberal democracy in Germany, the Weimar Republic, started its frenzied downward descent. Until Hitler took dictatorial control in 1933, her work continued to receive accolades from her peers, including the legendary literary critic and philosopher Walter Benjamin. Because she was Jewish, however, by 1933 her books began to disappear.

Despite the Nazis destruction of "suspect" literature, and her untimely death, copies of her innovative children's books have survived as an important part of the history of avant-garde book-making in twentieth century Europe.

[scarisd3ad]

Jump then fall | Steve Harrington x reader

Chapter one - everything has changed

Masterlist

Taglist

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Summary - after 7 years of being split apart from your childhood friend Steve you return to hawkins after your younger sisters tragic death, and parents messy divorce. But the Steve you came back to isn’t the same Steve you left behind.

"Steve!" Steve was surrounded by two of his new friends, Tommy and his girlfriend Carol, as I skipped up to him. They were both in 8th grade like Steve. carol looked me up and down as I stood in front of the trio. Steve had an annoyed look on his face from the moment I opened my mouth. Ever since he became friends with Tommy and Carol, it seemed as if I was just another inconvenience for Steve. "What?" the words are harsh as they come out of his mouth, almost like he was stabbing me right in the heart. But despite the achy feeling in my chest, I continued to talk. "wanna come over after school? My dad is working, so he won-"

"God, you are so annoying," Steve scoffs, which makes my brow furrow together in confusion. Steve has been a sweet boy ever since the moment I met him in kindergarten, but the moment he entered the 8th grade it was like a switch flipped inside of him. He no longer cared about his mother or his real friends he only care about popularity, girls, and being an absolute asshole to everyone around him. "Wh-what?" the words come out quiet and meek, the confusion still setting in as my eyes flicked from him to Tommy and then to Carol. Both his friends chuckled, probably because of the tears pooling in my eyes. "I said, you are fucking annoying! can't you go find someone else to cling onto?"

It seemed like time had stopped. Everyone around us stared, some laughed, and some whispered. Was I sent into a parallel universe because this wasn't the Steve I had grown to know? My chest heaved as I blinked back tears. "I-I'm sorry I thought-I thought-" I couldn't get the words out fast enough because Steve was shouting again before I could finish my sentence. "What that I was, your friend? I only hung out with you 'cause I felt bad that your sister died" This wasn't about Sara. He didn't need to bring her up. He knew it was a sore subject. The wound was still fresh. He knew it was still fresh. This felt like he was sticking a knife into that barely healed wound.

I want to punch him; I want to tackle him down to the ground and kill him just because he brought up my sister. "Your mom didn't even like you, so why should I? She dodged a bullet, leaving you." Maybe it was my mind making it up, but it felt like everyone around me was cackling at his words, at my tears, at my fists clenching and unclenching themselves. it hurt, it hurt so bad because I trusted him. I thought he was my best friend, but he wasn't. he was an evil lying bitch.

Before he can say anything else, I'm running away. I ran out of the school and to the group of telephones that stood outside against the school. I immediately punched in my father's work number as heavy sobs racked through my body. The phone rang a good three times before the secretary, Flo, answered the call.

"Hello, this is Hawkins police station. My name is Flo. How may I help you?" Flo was an older lady with dark hair and big, round glasses that sat on the brim of her nose. I sniffled before wiping my eyes. "He-hey Flo, can I talk to my dad?" I asked. Flo must've not noticed I was crying because she instantly transferred me to my father. The phone rang once before my dad answered, "Yeah what ya need?" Dad asks, "Da-daddy can you-you come get me?" I asked through sobs. I could almost hear the confusion in his voice as he asked, "What's wrong? What happened?" I don't answer due to the sobs that continue to erupt from my body. My brain was asking the same question repeatedly. Why would he do that to me? I thought we were friends. "I-I-please Dad," he grumbles quietly, "alright I'll be there in a few minutes."

I stood on the sidewalk with my arms wrapped around my body, waiting. Tears were still streaming down my cheeks when my dad's blazer pulled up beside me. I quickly get into the car, throwing my backpack in the back seat, and slamming the door shut before curling up in a ball, leaning my head against the glass. My father didn't immediately begin driving, instead deciding to interrogate me. "What happened? Did someone say something to you?"

"Steve," I whispered as more tears fell down my cheek. "Wh-what'd he do?" he asked, brows curling into a furrow. Dad knew Steve as a sweet boy, not someone who could ever hurt me. "He-he said...said I was annoying a-a-and that I was clingy." I said through sobs "And he-he said he was only my friend because he fe-felt bad because Sara die-died, that, m-mom didn't like me so why should he, a-and that she do-dodged a bullet leaving." His blood was boiling, I could tell. His face turned red, and he clenched his fists. Before I could even ask him what he was doing, he was already out of the car and halfway towards the front door. 

-

I wasn't a total nerd or loser. I was just normal, but I wasn't a Heather or a Carol. I was just me. I wasn't even the attractive type of normal person like Nancy Wheeler. I was just average. I was standing at my locker waiting for my friend Stephanie. We always met up at my locker before walking to English. Steph was popular. Sometimes I ask myself how I scored a friend like her. She was beautiful and kind. Everybody liked her and everybody had a reason why. The boys liked her because she was pretty, and the girls liked her because she was kinder than the other popular girls. Her curly hair bounced as she sauntered up to me. Her lips formed in a sweet smile as her hands pressed against her hips.

Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and a green bow was placed in her hair to match her green cheerleading uniform. "You coming to the game tonight?" she asked as she leaned her body against the locker next to me. "Maybe I Dunno. I have a lot of homework tonight," I whisper. I'm momentarily distracted by Steve walking by with his arm around his new plaything, Lisa Franklin, a cheerleader like Steph, but unlike Steph, Lisa was an absolute bitch. Despite the hurtful things Steve Harrington said to me, my crush on him never completely disappeared. Sometimes it felt like it was hidden away, but it was always there, simmering beneath the surface. 

Whenever I saw him walk by or heard him speak in any of our shared classes, my heart would skip a beat and my feelings for him would come flooding back. It was frustrating and confusing, but I couldn't help the way I felt. I feel two arms wrapping around my body, drawing my attention away from Steve. I glance over and see that it's Shawn Peterson. My relationship with Shawn is a bit complicated. We do things that most people in a romantic relationship do, but we don't use labels because he 'doesn't like labels'.

Shawn's a football player who's popular enough to be kind of friends with Steve. His hair is a dark, chocolate brown that falls in natural waves, framing a face that is both masculine and handsome. But it's his stunning brown eyes that steal the show, sparkling with an intensity that could make any girl weak in the knees. "So, you coming tonight?" he asks as he presses a kiss to my neck. I shrug my shoulders. "Maybe still Dunno though," I whisper. He groans as he presses a kiss just below my ear. "c'mon my parents aren't home tonight; we can go to mine afterward," I hum as I turn so I'm facing him. If I go, I have to tell my dad I'm at Steph's house and if I do that, I have the risk of him calling her parents to verify.

despite the risks, I smile up at him and whisper, "yeah okay sure." 

-

I sat on the bleachers watching as Steph cheered. my hands were buried deep into my pockets as I zoned out. No matter how much I loved Steph and Shawn, I'll always find high school football games a little boring. I didn't understand football and no matter how many times Shawn tried explaining it to me, I always left the conversation a little more confused than I was before. I feel someone sit down beside me, but I don't care enough to look to see who it is.

"hey," an all too familiar voice whispers. That makes me look up because I haven't heard that voice talking to me in years. Steve Harrington sat next to me, dressed in the same outfit he had been wearing at school earlier that day. I couldn't stop my heart from beating a mile a minute, and my hands beginning to shake. I can't tell if I'm nervous because I'm scared or because I have feelings for him. "What?" I mutter back, my voice a little harsher than I expected. Despite the fact he had been so mean to me back in 7th grade, I never wanted to be mean back. I couldn't get myself to do it.

"You here for Shawn?" Steve asks, his left hand tapping away at the metal bench. I nod replying "Yup" he hums as he nods awkwardly "Sooo...is he your y'know boyfriend?" I shrug "It's complicated..." he nods, a quiet hum coming from his lips. Why did he want to talk now? He hasn't talked to me in 3 years, but now randomly he wants to talk like nothing ever happened, like he never whispered to his friends when I walked by or spread rumors about me. "Why are you talking to me?" I ask brows curling in confusion as I stare up at him.

"wh-oh I-I just wanted to talk," he mutters back. he didn't want to talk for years before this, so why'd he want to talk now? After everything he's done to me, why now? I'm silent as I search his face for any signs that he's messing with me. But there's nothing, not a smirk, or some type of glint in his eyes, just brows furrowed together in confusion. I decided to look around to see if any of his friends were nearby snickering to themselves, but still, I didn't see any of them.

"wh-what are you looking for?" he asks. I quickly pivot my body towards him again. "Are you fucking with me again Steve?" he lets out a shocked little gasp before hurling into saying "No, no I'm not I just thought we could talk y'know since we haven't in a while" That infuriates me because he knows damn well why we aren't talking. "You know why we haven't talked in a while," I mutter as I scoot away from him. "c'mon y/n that was so long ago," he says, elongating the 'o' at the end of ago. I scoff rolling my eyes. "Yeah fuck you," I say as I scoot away from him a little more. He sighs defeated before asking, "How's your dad?" I shrug, muttering a quiet "fine," he nods awkwardly "You still live in the same house?" I shake my head. "No, moved a few years back."

We sit awkwardly, both of us not speaking as the football team comes running out on the field. Most of the people around us roar in applause and shouts of excitement, including Steve. he stands to his feet clapping before cupping his hands together in front of his mouth and shouting "Yeahhh Shawn!!" I cringe a little inside. Steve, like every other popular guy and athlete at the school, were filled with so much school spirit it made me physically cringe. he sat back down looking at me, as I stared at my feet trying to hold back laughter. "What?" a smile cracks to his lips as I let out a few quiet giggles. "Nothing...nothing" he laughs, and for a few quick minutes our old dynamic came back.

"Seriously? C'mon, what?" cover my mouth with my hand as I continue to laugh. I shake my head, refusing to say anything as our laughter dies down. And just like that, we were back to two estranged friends who hadn't held a conversation for more than 2 minutes for the past 3 years, almost. "y'know your dad punched me that day?" I look up at him, brows furrowing as I whisper a quiet "What?"

"He punched me when I was in eighth grade. " It all comes back, my father storming into the school after admitting to him what Steve had said to me. "good" I wouldn't normally expect my father, a grown man, to punch a 13-year-old, but in that instance, I don't blame him. If I was him and a guy like Steve had told my daughter the things Steve had told to me, I would've done more than just punched him. Steve laughs almost as if he was agreeing with me "Yeah...I was an asshole" I roll my eyes, was? Steve Harrington was still an asshole. "still" I say correcting him. Now it's his turn to ask "What?" I roll my eyes yet again as I say, "You're still an asshole", he frowns as he nods slowly "Yeah...I guess" At least he could admit it. 

-

Once the game ended, I bid Steve a quiet goodbye and went to the parking lot. I wait by Shawn's car for about 10 minutes until I see Shawn walking towards it, duffle bag swung over his shoulder, and hair damp. Steve walked next to him, both chatting about who knows what. Shawn drops his bag onto the hood of his car before scooping me up into a kiss.

Returning his kiss, I wrap my arms around his neck. I try to enjoy the kiss, but unfortunately, I can't because I can practically feel Steve's glare. I pull away, eyes meeting with Steve's. His brows are knitted together in an angry, or jealous type of furrow, and his arms are crossed over his chest. "You did so good out there," I say, pretending like I wasn't zoning out every 10 seconds. "mhm" Shawn hums before pressing his lips back against mine.

Steve clears his throat, making Shawn and I pull apart yet again. "well I'm gonna go. "See ya later, dude... um, nice talking to you again, y/n," Steve says before he starts walking towards his BMW, that was parked a few cars down.

The drive to Shawn's house is short and quiet. The only noise present is the low hum of the radio, and our breathing. When we get into his room, his hands are almost immediately all over my body. His lips touch mine, and his hands slide up and down the sides of my body before deciding to rest comfortably against my hips. The room is already somehow hot, and we're both out of breath when the sound of the phone (which sat on his nightstand) begins to ring.

BRINGGGG, BRINGGGG, BRINGGGG.

The sound of the phones rings is shrill and cuts through the quiet house like a knife. Shawn groans before pulling away from me. He crawls up his bed before answering the phone. Leaning against the headboard, he says, "Hello?"" in a very annoyed tone. "Oh, hey dude...no you weren't interrupting anything." the last bit drips in sarcasm as he says it.

"Yeah...yeah she's here, what'dya need?" I know he's talking about me because no one else is here, but I don't have a clue about who he's talking to. His brows furrow in confusion as the muffled sound of the other person talking comes out of the receiver. Then he scoffs as he shakes his head. "No, I'm not gonna do that sorry Steve." Steve? Why would Steve be asking about me? "Dude, you can't just ask me to do that" Shawn's eyes flick over to me before he whispers "I've gotta go alright? yeah, yeah, see you later." Shawn says before hanging up the phone.

"What was that about?" I ask. He hums quietly before hesitantly saying "Um...he just wanted to ask me if he could copy my homework" My brows furrow. There's no way Shawn would have made a big deal out of copying homework. They always copied each other work, so there was no way that's what Steve had asked. There was no world in which Shawn would have answered like that to needing to copy his homework.

As I press my hands into the soft cushion of Shawn's mattress, I sigh and whisper, "I should go... my dad's gonna be pissed if he finds out I stayed out late." Shawn nods before asking "Need a ride?" I nod, pushing myself up off the mattress and to my feet. "Yeah, but drop me off a few miles out. Don't need my dad knowing you're there."

A few years back, after my father's divorce was settled, and I was adjusted in school, my father sold our old family house. Claiming there were too many bad memories there, then he promptly moved us out to a cabin in the woods, much to 12-year-old Me's dismay. The cabin had supposedly been my grandfather's. his father, aka my grandfather, skipped out on the 'wondrous' opportunity to live in the shithole, so it had been abandoned for years since my great-grandfather died. It's a shitty log cabin, two beds and one bath that sat in the middle of the woods.

I hate being at that place alone. The doors creek, and the trees around it whistle with every gust of wind. I swear I'm going to be murdered one day in it and it'll be all Dad's fault for moving us out there. I didn't know why he couldn't have just moved us into some moderately shitty apartment or even keep us at the old house. 

-

Shawn's car slowly drives down a dirt road in the middle of the woods. His high beams shining ahead of us to make sure there wasn't some animal (or person) in our way. About halfway towards my house, Shawn stops the car. From there, it would be about a 10-minute walk up to the house. "I can walk you up there if you want me to," he says, his voice quiet as if he thought my father would somehow hear him all the way out here. "No, I'm fine...but thanks anyway. See you on Monday," I say as I push open the car door. I sling my bag over my shoulder as I begin the walk towards my house. Shawn waits until I'm out of sight from his car to turn around and it's the 5-minute drive back to the main road.

I arrive at my bedroom window. I don't even notice my dad stood leaned up against the door frame until I'm fully inside my room. I'm left staring at my father, who has his arms crossed over his chest, angrily glaring at me. "WHERE THE HELL WHERE YOU?" my mouth gaped open as I began to say something but decided it was better not to. "GO ON TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK YOU WHERE" I let out a groan as I matched my father cross my arms over my chest "I was at the football game," I say with an eye-roll as I toss my backpack on my bed.

He scoffs "THE FOOTBALL GAME ENDED AT 8:30 SO TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK YOU'VE BEEN FOR THE LAST 2 HOURS!" his voice echoes through my room as I begin to talk, "God you're being so dramatic. A few friends and I went to Shawn's to celebrate after the game." his face is red, and his fists clench and unclench before he begins to shout again. "YEAH, WE'LL SINCE YOU DONT KNOW HOW TO FUCKING PICK UP A PHONE AND TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE I DON'T WANT YOU OUT OF THIS HOUSE FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS!" my eyes widen as I shout "What! that's not fair! I'm babysitting this weekend!"

"well, you're going to call whoever you're babysitting for this weekend and tell them that you can't make it anymore, and I don't want you using this phone this weekend either," he says as he goes to unplug the phone from the wall. I let out a loud dramatic "ugh!" which is then followed by me shouting "I hate you!"

As he walks out of the room he says, "Yeah well I fucking hate you too" I dramatically sit down on my bed before shouting again "You're such a fucking asshole!" he turns brows furrowing as he says, "What did you just call me", I'm not scared of him, I never have. He thinks I am, but I never will. "I said you're a fucking asshole," I repeat as my arms cross over my chest. He scoffs as he says, "I'll show you how much of an asshole I can be" before slamming my bedroom door behind him. 

I sit on my bed, arms crossed like a bratty toddler as tears pricked in my eyes. it wasn't fair. I've gotten home late a handful of times and he never gotten angry any of those times, why did he always pick and choose when he wanted to blow up? I wonder what it would be like right now if I was still in New York with my mother. would she be blowing up on me right now too? would she be cool about things like this? or was she strict? but I guess I'll never know because she gave up on me and our family.

I feel bad after fighting with him, I always feel bad. I know deep down he loves me; he just doesn't really know how to show it anymore. I crave that fatherly love that gets rationed out from time to time. I think that's why we fight so much; I crave the affection; he doesn't know how to show it. when he's not working, he sits on his chair, or in his bedroom practically in a catatonic state staring at the tv or a wall, we eat dinner in our separate rooms we don't talk unless we're screaming at each other, or I've got my head laid in his lap as I profusely apologize for what had happened. we're both traumatized i know that we both lost so much, but he should at least try. he knows I don't have any other parental figures in my life, and he still chooses to be distant and cold.

I sigh arms falling to my sides, pressing against my soft mattress. sometimes in the spur of the moment I wish he had died, and I know he thinks the same about me. I always feel bad afterwards though. even though I live with him, I don't know my father at all, he's a stranger to me. the only time we feel like father and daughter is when he's bossing me around. it's absolutely bazar that I feel the same way about my father that I do my absent mother. it's actually like they're both absent in their own ways, dad emotionally, and mom physically. he totally gave up after sara died, I mourn my father in the same way i mourn my dead sister. I just want the old him back, the dad who chased us around the park, and took us out for ice cream, the dad who never even thought to yell at me even if i had stollen a car.

I just want him back.

-

Taglist

@sheisjoeschateau @nothankyou138 @gleefulleve @luluw-20 @skrzydlak @halflifejess @natalie-flo @castleallherown

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

hey iit's me again! (can i be your 🌼 anon?)

Thoughts on yan!CEO with caretaker reader who is looking after his sick father (home service i dunno what's it called) and she does some little chores here and there casually. Yan!CEO is so used to seeing her around his mansion that it starts to feel natural along with his father pressuring him to get married because the father thinks he's nearing his end. So when the father really dies tragically (bcoz ✨taruma✨) he only sees reader as his salvation and he convinced that she'd look after him even though she didn't do anything significant with lot of effort.

Yandere! Hospital Chairperson x Caretaker! Reader

OOH MY FIRST ANON! Hi :3

Btw, forgive me, the CEO thing will be changed into something other than, well, CEO. My yandere! CEO is already taken! But, with the help of my friend, we got to a little discussion, and decided on a Hospital Chairperson. Why? You'll see hehe

Yandere! Hospital Chairperson name: Xavier

It's always Xavier.

"Xavier, can you write up the last patient's records?"

"Xavier, please do the time of death."

"Xavier, fetch the files for me please."

It's like he's being worked around like a horse around the hospital.

He has to run up and down the building, right to left on this huge private hospital. Sure, he was a newbie, a fresh graduate from medschool, but did these people had to work him to the bone?

It was almost abusive, the lot of them.

"Father, it's so hard..."

He would usually complain to his father who was the hospital chairperson.

His father laughed lightheartedly before giving a few loving pats on the head. Xavier gripped the handkerchief in his hand.

"it's because they rely on you, Xavier. You're very strong and independent, yet kind and understanding. You are very dependable."

Xavier wanted to protest, that he knew his father was the one to order for him to be ordered around like that, but he pursed his lips.

Xavier Signet. The heir to the hospital conglomerate that is his father. Ever since his mother died, his father did his best to raise him to be a well mannered man despite being absent most of the time due to his job. His father made sure to teach him good manners, to have great academics, and to not be spoiled and always appreciate hard work.

Hard work was something not unfamiliar with the Signets, they were new money after all. From a humble clinic to something as well renowned as the Signet group of Medical Facilities. They were medical practitioners to a tee, and valued other people's lives more than their own.

Xavier gritted his teeth as he held down the fountain of profanities and complaints as his father waved goodbye to him.

Nevermind the handkerchief in his hands, spots of blood in it, a sign on Xavier overworking himself too much.

What his father didn't know is that Xavier is not the angel he thinks he is. His superiority complex that borders on God complex made him boil inside with defiance and insults as he took every single work his higher ups throw at him.

He wanted them dead. So much.

But he can't.

Yet.

Fast forward five years later, and his father lied on the bed, sick and weak.

Xavier bit his tongue while holding his father's cold, wrinkly hand. It was so rough and dry. Obvious from the years of hardwork and patients he had to go through.

"Dad..." Xavier whispered. "You know you can't move already, so please. Let me hire a caretaker for you."

His father coughed, love brimming his eyes for his son.

Xavier matured into a well endowed person. One who was steadfast and an amazing leader, but also a great listener. He's the perfect man for the chairperson seat.

"Alright. You can hire one, son." Ever the fool for his offspring, he nodded.

Xavier hired you, a seemingly gentle and sweet soul, someone who knew how to take care of an elderly.

At first, Xavier was only curt with you. Professional, at most.

He was so busy with his work that most of the time, his relationship with you slips his mind.

It made him open up to you sometimes, while he drank his scotch.

"ah... Those bastards. Really? They want to siphon more money from our patients? Are they out of their mind? Isn't it enough that they stomp on the new residents, but also the patients."

You furrowed your eyebrows, listening to Xavier's whiles.

These were one of the days were you noticed that he drops his nice and angelic facade and into this arrogant, yet empathetic guy.

"Tch. They're not even fucking geniuses. All they do is pocket money, invest, and splurge. They don't give a damn to patients. Like who the fuck do they think they are?!" Xavier rambled more, the scotch making him blurt out his real thoughts onto you.

Sympathetic, you finished folding the clothes of his father and gently walked up to him, and then patted his head with a rub.

Xavier gasped, suddenly feeling that everything was at a standstill, slowly looked up to your peaceful face that was highlighted from the lights of the living room.

Oh god.

"Sir Xavier, those bastards are really something. They're public servants, they should be nice and caring. But all they knew is money." Your sweet voice infiltrated his ears, making his arrogant and superior walls crumble in just a snap.

He was so starved of affection.

Then, your hands caressed his shoulder and rubbed them, making his tense form go away.

Oh god.

And as he grabbed your form and cried into your arms, he knew that things will never be the same.

Xavier rubbed his temples as he listened to the whines of his constituents. Apparently, they wanted to invest in commercial businesses also, but it was a failing start up company with the asking money of 200,000 dollars in exchange of only 10% of the company.

They're seriously fucking him over if they think he'll agree to this obvious scam.

It's been two years since you got in their life.

In his life.

And everyday, he looks forward to coming home into your arms and crashing his low energy body in your embrace.

It was weird, really. At first, he was so stand-offish, but now he was treating you like you were his wife.

That, and also his father continued to pester him to get a wife, since he wanted Xavier to have children before he passes away.

And when he ranted to you about that, you laughed heartily and rubbed his head once more, making him lean into your touch.

"I look like your spouse if you think about it!"

And those words permeated into him, and latched itself into his bones.

Yeah, maybe.

He glared into one of his subordinates and they trembled.

"S-sir, I swear, it's a good investment!" The subordinate said, but their hands are shaking and sweaty.

"No. Get out."

They hastily bowed and ran outside.

Due to your encouragement, he learnt to not hide his true nature and not just grit and bare the shit thrown at him.

"You're the chairperson! And you're just going to let them walk over you?"

You were right. He was at the highest position. So why would he?

So now, he's the one making life a living hell for them. Exacting revenge like a bloodless villain. Even attacking their personal lives.

He worked hard for this position. Too hard. Now it's their time to work hard to maintain theirs.

Then, all of a sudden, his phone rang. He looked at it, and his eyes softened. It was you. With heart emojis in his contacts.

"Hello y/n, how's father?"

But then your panicked voice made him drop everything and drive as fast as possible to your side.

And he saw you crying at the foot of his father's bed, tears streaming down your lovely face as you wept.

His hands trembled.

This time, he's the one to comfort you as he whispered reassuring words.

He looked up at his father's corpse, silently wishing him goodbye as tears also starting to leak from his eyes.

Now he had no one but you.

He held you closer, a numb feeling erupting from his chest as he felt your tears wet his shirt.

Painful sobs of the both of you permeated from this seemingly quiet and cold room, finding one another for comfort from the loss of a dear father figure.

Xavier had to take a break from work.

He felt so numb, leading the wake and the funeral of his father.

As much as he hated him due to his extreme ways of teaching him manners and discipline, he was still his only family left.

His ears rung whenever his father's "friends" sent condolences in a professional, yet fake way.

Time was a concept, and now, he was looking down at his father's grave.

His father didn't want a mosoleum, just a simple grave besides his wife's, Xavier's mother who died in childbirth.

And you were beside him, gripping his hand.

When did the line blur from employer to employee?

Who knows?

But both of you needed each other.

He needed you.

You were the only one left on his side, genuinely.

And he'll be damned to let you go, his only anchor to prevent himself from going apeshit and letting blood spill.

He gulped a cry.

"Y/N, darling, where are you?"

You stilled, hearing his weary voice come from outside of your room. You gripped your clothes and hastily placed all of them in your bag and sliding it under your bed.

"Oh here, Xavier!" Your voice, strained yet giving the outmost genuine tone you could muster. Yet a slight shake can be heard.

"Thank god, I thought you left me. Haha." He opened the door and saw you, sitting on the bed with a wry smile.

He approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist, cuddling close. You bit your cheek.

"Xavier... Um, is it possible for me to go outside to shop?" You asked, rubbing his hair. Wanting a semblance of freedom and a chance to escape.

Xavier's head shot up and he shook his head desperately his grip on you tightening.

"no no no! Silly, definitely not. If you go outside, you'll catch some sickness out there that will probably kill you. And we don't want that, do we? We want you living healthy and long." Xavier desperately reasoned, clinging to you. You bit your lip and nodded slowly.

Ever since his father died seven months ago, he refused to let you go. He was crying, begging for you to stay, for you to take care of him. He even went and upped your salary just for you to stay with him.

But what use is your money if you're essentially locked inside his house?

He refused to let you go at all, scared that you'll get sick and die.

And then he would be truly all alone.

He doesn't want that at all.

He still wants to marry you, to make a family with you. To be with you, his only pillar left.

"I get it, Xavier. I'll stay put." A lump appeared on your throat as you saw his genuine smile of relief.

You were so torn with guilt and desperation for freedom.

You wanted out,

Yet also wanted to stay put and take care of the man.

So, what will you choose?

Spread your wings, while potentially setting off the ticking time bomb that is Xavier, or stay, and accept that being confined in this mansion with no one but Xavier as your only... Friend.

But one thing's for sure.

No matter what you choose,

You'll always end up in his arms.

It's an illusion of choice,

He's always the end game.

[st4rbe0m]

SUMMARY ▸ 20 years ago, a gruesome murder shook the town hard. A type of murder that should've never happen, much less in their quaint town. A lovely family killed in cold blood with an unforgiving axe wielding maniac - a mother, a father and a little girl. It's been 20 years down the road, hasn't it? Then why are these 11 teenagers stuck in a loop of the same day, being haunted by a little girl who died 20 years ago?

PAIRING ▸ Park Jongseong (Jay) x reader ; additional pairings between characters as well , multi chapter story

TAG LIST ▸ open!! send an ask to be added

WC ▸ 2.5K

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE THE BODY SEARCH ?

▊ yes -> CHAPTER 4

▊ no -> CHAPTER 2

BODY SEARCH MASTERLIST

A/N: happy enha comeback day!! i absolutely loved XO lmfao I really needed that fresh cute enha concept after all the vampires and blood. Moonstruck is just INSANE I'm so glad it isn't an intro LOL. Also the insane bf looks they served in the MV like !!! I too would like to go on a rooftop date with Heesung maybe 😞

Jake’s pupils are blown wide as he stares directly into the black abyss of where a normal girl’s eyes would be. A girl who wasn’t covered in blood maybe. A girl who didn’t possess superhuman strength and didn’t want to kill them in the most creative ways possible. It’s also the only thing he sees as the bloodied hand of the Red Girl, as the group had imaginatively named her, clutched his white school shirt. The fingers easily lifted him with dexterity, and casually flung him across the art classroom where he hid, his neck brutally impaled by the wood of the easel. 2 down, 8 more to go. 8 out of the 10 people who had been, against their will, sucked into this sick game. The Body Search.

The Day before as the Same Day : 10AM

Jungwon is nervously pulling his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks at each of the members of this little horror club, none of them meeting his eyes. He can’t really blame them, watching how their foreheads creased in worry and concentration as they scanned through all the evidence and information Jungwon had presented spread across the library table - newspaper articles, old books and heavy paperbacks all laid out for them. 

“So you’re telling me, that this little girl is using us because the cops never found her body when she was murdered? What does that have to do with us? Why do we have to find her body?”. Sunoo is exasperated, but mostly filled with concern. How many nights would they have to continue dying, only to wake up in the same day? “The parts are stashed across the school you say?”. It’s Giselle who interrupts, Heesung beside her rubbing her arm up and down in an attempt to comfort his girlfriend. But how could you comfort someone knowing that they were gonna die a painful death in a few hours time? 

“Why can’t we find them now?”, the deeper voice of Riki asks, and Jungwon just sighs when he explains, “That’s the game. It’s only at night. And you have to run from her. Honestly, even I don’t know more. Based on the books, that's how it’s done. And based on the news reports, she’s the only victim that checks out.” 

“It’s quite horrid though, what happened to her, is it not?”. Y/N’s voice is sort of shaky when she says this, the girl slightly worried about all the people surrounding her. “To be dismembered this horribly after that man kills your entire family, only to have your corpse go missing? She must not be able to rest peacefully.” Humming along, Jay added, “That’s true for sure. It’s quite tragic what happened to her”, making eye contact with Y/N as he did, his chocolate eyes gleaming with pity for the little girl. “But what I also don’t get is why she’s trying to kill us, when we’re just helping her rest easy?”.

“That’s what confuses me as well!” Jungwon added enthusiastically, and he just gestured at the books around him. “That’s the one thing I couldn’t find in here. Why is she trying to kill us?”

“Point is then, that we have to find her body parts right. Okay then.” As Park Sunghoon had disinterestedly made his entrance, he left the same way, hands shoved deep into his pockets and a scowl adorning his handsome features. Jake and Jay sprinted behind him, the two walking beside him, harsh discussion being whispered between them. Soon after the group adjourned, jarred by the discoveries Jungwon had brought forward. Sunoo and Riki went off towards their respectful classes, while Jungwon and Y/N walked together on their own. After contemplating it for a while, Y/N cracked open, and spilled what she saw to Jungwon - the well by the chapel and the hands. The flower pot. Jungwon nodded along, clearly disturbed by what she told him - and confessed to a similar vision he saw in the washroom, of a bloody hand reaching at his foot from under a stall. 

“Why do you think it’s only the ten of us who were chosen? We have dozens of students here, and yet all ten of us have nothing in common.” Jungwon asked inquisitively. “Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe that’s the objective. Finding the most different people to put into this game. To slow us down maybe.” 

Jake had his lips pursed tightly as he continued witnessing the heated debate between Jay and Sunghoon. “We’re your fucking friends, dipshit! You can tell us anything man! But ghosting us for days on end, cutting off all ties? That’s low.” Jay spat out in anger towards Sunghoon, who’s forehead displayed a vein visibly ticking in annoyance. “I can’t fucking do anything okay!” Sunghoon just shouts back, the walls he built cracking down in the face of the confrontation of the friends he’s had since elementary school. “Ice skating and basketball. This and that. I’m fucking sick. I’m sick of the coach pushing this competition on us. It always ends up with me compromising one over the other, only because of how greedy he is for the medals, for the medals he never won. I’m a tool! A tool he projects on and I hate it! And most of all, I’m sick of the way I'm starting to hate both of them.” Sunghoon heaves a large breath after the last sentence, crumbling down to his knees as he does, while Jake and Jay stand there in shock, and sadness. It’s always been this trio of theirs. Ever since elementary, arms linked. The three could take over the world. Slowly inching towards Sunghoon, Jake ran his hand soothingly over Sunghoon’s back, and soon Jay joined, letting the silence and the weight of Hoon’s confession settle over them.

1AM : Current Day which is the Same Day

Jay and Y/N found themselves together in a classroom again. However, this time it seemed deliberate, and it was. Jay wanted to keep an eye on Y/N. To keep the girl close to him so he could keep her away from harm’s way - even though that was quite impossible here, in this twisted game they found themselves in. The lights were turned on in every classroom they could find on that floor, and the pair crouched around shelves trying to find any clues about the whereabouts of the dead girl’s missing body parts. “You know Y/N, for someone who declared themselves queen of tag when we were five, you don’t seem that good at your job”. The time the two spent in that classroom had opened up to a conversation and light hearted jokes, which blossomed to a budding interest as the two conversed, with Y/N not treating it as a conversation with her crush that would usually leave her as a blushing, stuttering mess, but rather, as a catch up with an old friend. An old friend whom she’d liked since middle school, with the kindest smile and the most wonderful humor. “Aw Jay, do you want to steal some of my Princess Pony bandaids again, just in case you get hurt again?”, Y/N teasingly jabbed back, to which Jay gave a genuine laugh and said, “Not my fault the bandaids looked good. Smelled good too.” The lights above them blinked once. Then again. Sensing danger, the two ran after sharing the same look of horror, and went into the storage room that was often used to keep supplementary books. Flicking the light switch inside the room that seemed to fail to light up, the two could only use the light from the illuminated fish tank in the room. That’s when Y/N let out a rather loud gasp, startling Jay who asked her fervently, “What happened?”. Pointing at the fishtank, they both saw the single forearm, tinged brown and covered in decaying bruises and yellowish veins, floating in the water. The lights in the main classroom seemed to flicker even more aggressively now, blinking angrily as the feet of the Red Girl came into view. Both of them knew what they had to do. Reaching into the fishtank and grabbing the severed arm, Y/N and Jay ran into the classroom, the Red Girl running towards them at the same time. “Chapel Y/N, now!”. Wielding a chair Jay had picked up, he madly swung it at the Red Girl just before she could reach Y/N, pinning her down against the wall, exerting all his might to make sure Y/N got away with enough safe distance. Turning slightly back, he looked to double check. Immediately, the Red Girl used this opportunity to jam the metal leg of the chair right through Jay, blood gurgling and spilling out of his mouth, as his eyes watered and went slack, falling completely to the floor. 

Y/N ran and ran, determined to get to the chapel. That’s when she saw the faces of NingNing and Giselle, sweaty and looking towards her, with an urgency in their eyes when they spotted the arm with Y/N. But as quickly as the look appeared, a look of fear washed over their faces. The Red Girl. Taunting Y/N as she took a few steps, smiling madly. Then, she began sprinting, sporting the same blood-curdling grin. Giselle jumped to action, pressing down hard on the button that began pulling down the shutters and gate of that hallway. “Are you mad, Y/N is out there!” NingNing screamed. “So what, do you want to die too?” Giselle retaliated. “Come on Y/N!!” NingNing urged, holding her hand out for Y/N, as the gate kept lowering, its mechanical groaning deafening against the quiet of the night. Sliding against the smooth floor, Y/N made it in the nick of time, with the hand in tow, gate dropping just before the Red Girl could cross over. Standing up, with Giselle’s back facing the gate she looked to the two girls and explained, “We need to get this arm into the coffin.” Grudges for how the two were ready to leave her out there could be settled later. This was more important. Nodding, Giselle said, “Yeah, for sure, let’s go.”. The metal of the gate moved up, metal bending unnaturally as a red hand appeared underneath it, grabbing Giselle by the ankle and pulling her down. The entire thing happening before Ning Ning and Y/N could even register it. A pool of blood appeared immediately, spreading down from under the floor, as the hand reached out again to grab Y/N this time, screaming as she went under, the hand flying into the air and landing onto the floor as it happened. Not wasting a second, NingNing grabbed the arm like hell. The coffin right in front of her as she reached the chapel, she frantically searched which arm it was that fit the cream colored molding. As soon as she placed the arm down on the coffin’s bedding, the Red Girl launched herself on NingNing’s shoulders, deftly snapping her neck in two, NingNing’s vision going immediately black, as the last thing she was a rotten hand lying on white cushions. 

The four are gathered again by the stairwell. “Sunoo and I didn’t make it quite far the second time. She seemed to find us quite immediately.” “Yeah, neither did I. I handled the Red Girl so Gi could escape”, a sheepish Heesung admitted, rubbing nis neck with one hand while Giselle clasped the other, squeezing it in appreciation. “Same, I stalled her so that Y/N could- hey did you get the arm in?”, Jay asked, spinning to face Y/N, startled by the spotlight on her. “Uh, I got killed right after Giselle.” “I got the arm in, don’t worry.” NingNing reassured the rest. “We’re one arm in guys. One body part down.”

“We can’t keep doing this blindly guys. We’re gonna need a plan” Sunghoon said. “I’d much rather go into this with a structure than just get gutted all the time.” A plan was required, that was true. And with the same idea, all nine of them turned their heads to look at Jungwon, who’s eyes widened. “Right, so now everyone needs me. Come to the library at lunch. I have a plan.”, the boy with glasses assured with a confident smirk on his face.

The scene felt almost familiar, with the way they were all huddled around the library table. This time, Jungwon had a blueprint map of their school spread out, and two markers in his hand. Enthusiastically the boy presented, "I give you the Rocker Mix Plan!", as he gestured with jazz hands on the map. Blankly the group just tilted their heads at him, failing to understand what the boy was talking about. Clearing his throat from the awkwardness, with a single red marker, he colored in the room Jay and Y/N had found the arm in. "Okay guys, look. Jay and Y/N found the arm in this room right. So this room is cleared. I've also noticed that the Red Girl also seems to be attracted to sound and lights. And we just have to use that to our advantage." "The PA system", NingNing said with a gasp, eyes widening in realisation as she slowly understood Jungwon's plan. Snapping his fingers at NingNing in joy, glad to have found someone who has caught on to his plan, he exclaimed, "Exactly! We play whatever music or something through the PA systems to distract her, or confuse her. That way we can search the rooms more easily. And then we report back on which rooms we've searched and cleared." "Jungwon you freaking Einstein genius. Have you registered for the Mensa? I think you should", Jake said with a laugh and awe, slapping the boy on his back in praise, which made Jungwon beam in pride. "Let's start off with this first, and adapt as we go."

Deciding to boost the morale up, Riki just cheered, "What's a creepy little girl to us, bro? We got this! Lets fucking do this!", he hollered, which was met with a harsh shushing from the librarian paired with a stern glare that made Riki just cower away.

The group giggled at this youngest's antics. They weren't going to go into this blindsided anymore. This time, they were gonna be prepared.

[bonefall]

Thoughts about Goldenflower? Specifically her alignment in terms of Tigerstar being a massive Thistle law supporter, and Goldie being left to raise their kits alone after he’s ousted from ThunderClan and caused thw death of their elder son (intentionally or not). Girl has been through sooo much I’m kinda glad she wasn’t around to see what her surviving son became.

Golfy BABY, Goldenflower is getting a sizeable kiss on the head.

She is the daughter of Speckletail, future bulldozer attacker. She is every bit as intense as this implies.

Goldenflower is the same size as her littermate Lionheart. She just braids her mane, making her look smaller. They are both fucking massive

The most personal and painful part of Tigerclaw's betrayal was the fact he KILLED HER BROTHER.

She is really close with Frostfur after Lion's death, because she's super overwhelmed with two litters so close together AND being head of the kitchen patrol.

Swiftpaw and Brightpaw were practically siblings with how close they were. It really wasn't a surprise that they ended up in trouble together.

Golden was planning to not even speak Tigerclaw's name to Bramblekit and Tawnykit. Her opinion on Tiger was an IMMEDIATE, FURIOUS 180.

Generally Goldenflower isn't a "soft" person. She's a lot like her mom, Lionheart was the more gregarious and diplomatic of the two.

Snowkit was also a very serious cat like them. This family is generally pretty focused and pious.

They also had a middle sibling who tragically died in the Plague-- Mistleclaw. That was before Fireheart joined ThunderClan.

I really love how in canon, Goldenflower is firm and pushes back on how unfair Fireheart is towards her kits. So that's where I'm building from and generally disregarding fanon's take on her as a gentle mom. Society has progressed past the need for gentle moms. Goldenflower is currently telling you to sit up straight and take all those dishes on your desk to the sink.

She's waiting.

You will not keep her waiting. Go.

Good. She's proud of you.

Back on that 189 though-- that was for almost everything. Frostfur, Dustpelt, Longtail, a LOT of cats have a much slower reckoning with the ingrained beliefs that they'd accepted from Tigerclaw.

But Goldenflower was motivated by some pretty hard spite. She wanted NOTHING left of him. She was finding things to hate about him, and ended up "leading the charge" on ThunderClan's reckoning here.

Not neccesarily because of deeper principles, but because she was willing to wrecking ball her way through any leftover associations with him.

Before this point though, she DID support Thistle Law, juuust over the edge past Hard Traditionalism. She would speak very critically of Queen’s Rights, openly call for war, protested against bringing back WindClan, etc.

after Tigerclaw's betrayal, she's still more of a centrist Traditionalist, but will listen to a convincing argument, and slides towards Fire alone over the years.

I actually want to write Fireheart and Goldenflower developing a strong friendship in this moment, too.

She doesn't advise like Whitestorm does, but she's good at shutting up bickering cats when Fireheart is a fresh deputy. I always wished he had some more allies in that moment.

Also generally a very reliable senior warrior. Will absolutely be one of Firestar's choices for his first deputy, though he ultimately picks Whitestorm.

After TPB, she has another big role as the new mentor of Squirrelpaw. Unfortunately, she has had to flunk the little fireball on her warrior assessment TWICE.

She actually talked to Firestar like, "I'm aware that this looks suspicious but I promise I'm not holding her back to spite you. She threw herself into the river."

"No no, Golfy, I'm aware she's wreckless. I never assumed you were being unfair to-- wait the river? The river with the WATER??"

"Yes. The river with the water."

She is also surviving well into OotS, as an elder. I don't like how tiny the den was for so many arcs! SO, that does mean she is going to get a pretty good look at her son's early leadership and all that entails.

Unfortunately though, she ended up taking his side in the Reveal. In her eyes, Bramblestar was LIED to. The Queen’s Rights are to protect kits-- but that doesn't mean you just get to lie to the mate who's going to raise them.

(This is also definitely colored a bit by personal bias, she would be more charitable if it was anyone else but her son)

So when he decides that the Three aren't his anymore... Goldenflower distances herself too. Lionblaze is especially painful-- she used to think he was in honor of her late brother. But now she finds out that it was all a lie.

From the elder's den, she has various opinions on the changes happening to ThunderClan under Bramblestar, like the crumble of the ShadowClan alliance. I feel like she wants to support her son, even when she thinks his choices are questionable... but at the same time, her pride prevents her from being TOO soft on him.

Just generally being a strong traditionalist in the Elder's Den, but on the softer side as opposed to Mousefur on the hard side.

I'm currently planning to axe her in the Great Battle, because there's no way she doesn't go down swinging... though I am also keeping her in mind for one of the greencough outbreaks, since I'm trying to make those into an actual threat in BB instead of "kill some randos" disease.

In any case though I want her alive into OotS to have opinions about Bramblestar, because I find that too interesting to pass up.

[brainicusrotticus]

technically i played my first run of iwatex more than a year and a half ago. i focused heavily on exploration, managed to cure the shimmer and stop the famine without realizing it was possible to fail at those, and became a gardener with sym and dys.

but i remembered very little when i finally came back to the game (i remembered tammy dying, the gardeners, and the helios arriving, but that’s about it), so i decided to completely wipe my data and start fresh.

my new first run was… tragic. obviously tammy and hal died because it was a first run. i mostly did exploration. i went out and explored the month that tonin died, saw the fight, didn’t have the stats to try to save him so i ran for help, and then held his hands while he died, thinking i was tammy.

i stopped exploring for a while after that, and zeroed in on xenobotany again. i’d already done a little bit, and ended up creating the native hybrid right around the time i turned 13.

…which is also when sol’s mom pulls out the “you’re not doing enough” talk (possibly just if your rebellion is on the higher side? but mine has never not been, so i don’t know). which happened to be the event that triggered right after i made the native hybrid. so i was pissed that i’d just achieved a scientific marvel as a prepubescent child, only to be told i needed to try harder.

so i chose every angry option that presented itself. i despised her after that. i feel so strongly about it that i made it a foundational event to my view of my doctor!sol.

i stopped researching xenobotany, and started focusing on engineering instead. leaned back into exploration, too. until the famine got bad. i thought working on xenobotany might help things, make more plants and solve the problem long term.

…but it didn’t. and fluorescent died. which made feelings… complicated.

i leaned fully into engineering and exploration. managed to get to the ridges before ever fully exploring the valley. made efforts to befriend tangent, too. learned that the shimmer cure might be in the valley, but it wasn’t pollen yet so i wasn’t thinking super hard on it. helped her with some other stuff, too.

eventually, a pollen season hit and i remembered the cure. i went out exploring in the valley, but misremembered where the big event for it was and ended up using most of my stress getting to the wrong spot. i had to go back, relax for mid-pollen, and then went back out in late pollen.

i did manage to get to the glade, get what i needed, and get out. went back to the colony, last missing piece for the shimmer cure in hand.

and walked right into the story event where the shimmer finally kills geranium.

…i helped cure it the very next month. i, as a player, felt so… numb and useless about it. at this point i’d failed to save tonin, flulu, and geranium. not just failed, but tried and failed. tried so very hard.

i threw myself entirely into my relationship with tang. we started dating. i focused back on engineering because i didn’t know what else to do.

i found out what tang was working on. had been working on, for years. what i’d been helping her with, unknowingly.

i could tell she felt conflicted. that this was something she felt she had to do, but something she didn’t want to do.

i told her… i supported her.

i thought it was the first step. that if i let her know that i support her (not her project, but her), then she would know, when i told her it needed to stop, that i wasn’t mad at her. she wouldn’t have to defend herself. that she could lean on the parts of her screaming that this was wrong, and i’d support her in following the path to undoing what she had almost done.

that wasn’t a choice i was given. i just couldn’t read the writing on the walls.

i hoped the chance would come up with time passing. but it didn’t.

i decided i had to tell someone else. the only person i could think of who would be against it, and who could do something about it.

i told dys.

and he just… told me it wasn’t a serious threat. that the gardeners could handle it. i wasn’t close enough with him to make him take me seriously.

he left during the next glow.

i tried exploring again, hoping i might find something out there that would let me stop this. i broke up with tang, because i realized i couldn’t talk her out of it. i’d damned us both with that one choice.

in the end, there was nothing i could do. tangent’s cure came to pass.

i just imagine all those years sol spent sitting in the helios. thinking on the course of their life.

how they chose to run and get help instead of fighting to protect tonin. and he died because of it.

how they chose to try and focus on breeding new plants for the famine instead of working the fields. and fluorescent died because of it.

how they took one wrong turn in the valley of vertigo, delaying curing the shimmer by two months. and geranium died because of it.

how they said one wrong thing, thinking it was a path to redemption. and because of that, cal, and instance died.

…a planet died.

i know how it ends in the story. emerging more than a decade later. surviving, because that’s what humanity does.

but in my heart, it ends differently. sol refuses to stay in the helios. a season after the quarantine starts, they just leave. they venture out into the plagued wilderness to try and save something. some small bit of vertumna. something that can be regrown, like it was thousands of years ago.

…but they die with the rest of it.