#or his mother threatening suicide if his father left

[decayedhearts]

@soothsaer​ sent:   💭 + trey + trauma   [Send me a “💭“ and your Muse will experience one of my muse’s Memories]

A sweet scent suddenly fills your nose and then you’re carried away on a cloud of cinnamon and apple, the school disappearing from your eyes and changing into a place you’ve never seen before..

It’s the big kitchen in the back of the bakery, the one where most of the baking happens. There’s a smaller area in the shop part too where some minor cake and cookie decorating is done, but that’s your father’s job and you’ve never helped him out there. Not yet. Some day you’ll be allowed to take over there as well. If you’re honest, it makes you nervous to think about - what if you mess up while people are watching? All that money wasted if you have to give it away for free (because who will buy messed up cake?), or worse, all that food wasted if mother decides to throw it away. Maybe you could sneak it out of the kitchen and give it to your sister, pretend you failed it on purpose so she could have some sweeties before bedtime. She’d probably like that.

“Trey, honey? Be careful not to let the dough dry up,” mother’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You look at the lump of dough you’ve been kneading and nod. “Yes, mum,” you promise, poking the soft mass with your fingers to see if it’s starting to crack. It’s still okay, but if you’re not careful, it’ll dry up like mother said. You’ve done this often enough by now to recognize its stages, you shouldn’t make mistakes like that anymore.

You start splitting the dough into smaller pieces, rolling little balls and placing them on the counter. They all need to be the same size or else the finished buns won’t turn out the same, some will burn while the others are still raw, and you won’t have time to check them all individually. There’s so much left to do for tomorrow and you’re already getting sleepy. You hear the front door opening, the familiar jingle of the bell distracting you for a moment, but you stay focused on your task. There was a time where you’d drop what you’re holding and run to greet father, but that time is past. “Your father is back,” mother says and smiles at you. No, she looks sad. No.. she is smiling. She leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

You make more dough balls but you lose count of them as you place them on the counter. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall is so loud it feels as though it should make the loose flour vibrate on the counter’s surface. You hear their voices in the other room. They’re loud just normal, but you can’t make up any words. Mother is crying laughing about something. Maybe father told a joke; he used to do that a lot when you were little. Well, when you were younger, you are still little, compared to him.

You’re still counting by the time mother comes back, but the numbers are all jumbled in your head. Maybe it’s 15, or maybe it’s 49. Mother is quiet and so are you, your small whispered counting just loud enough for her to recognize you’re still doing it. You need her to know that, you’re not sure why, but the thought of her asking if you overheard them makes your stomach ache. You heard nothing.      “I’m done, mother,” you say out loud and turn to find your mum sitting on her chair by the window, her hand on her round belly. She’s in tears. Again. There is flour on her cheek and before you know you move to wipe it away, your small hand coming away damp.

And then she’s hugging you, holding you so tight it hurts a little, your small chest unable to take in breath like it should. You don’t remember the last time she hugged you to comfort you. You haven’t asked her to in a while. It wouldn’t feel like comfort from someone so broken. She’s whispering words into your ear that you don’t want to hear, words you choose not to understand. If you don’t understand them, maybe they won’t be true.

The bakery needs to stay afloat so you can keep the house and pay the bills, that much you understand. “I’ll help, mum,” you say, while your chest still hurts. You wish she would let go of you already. You already messed up so much, almost caused them to lose it all at the hands of a wrathful woman with a heart of stone. Irresponsible. The bakery needs to stay afloat so he won’t leave, you already messed up so much--- the bakery needs to stay afloat or she will go away too. You’re all she has, of course you’ll help. If you’ll help everything will turn out fine, the bakery will stay, father will stay, your sister will be fine and the baby--

The memory breaks off with a snap, like a film tearing. 

[goodrightreal]

.

[starlithumanity]

I'm having a fascinating time rewatching Our Flag Means Death with the knowledge that Ed sees Izzy as a "safe" mentor/family figure ("safe" because Izzy is Ed's subordinate aboard the ship, which creates a more balanced power dynamic) upon whom Ed projects his many unresolved daddy issues. That stated interpretation from David Jenkins does work, even in season one!

Most of the fandom conceptualized season one Izzy as a power-hungry subordinate to Ed and a "co-parent" to the crew (paralleled with the Stede/Mary marriage) who has an understated masochist lust for the Blackbeard legend. All of that is true too, because Ed and Izzy's relationship is incredibly complex and fucked-up. I know from personal experience that this kind of layered toxic relationship is completely possible, though it might seem contradictory on the surface.

In season one, Ed considering Izzy as a mentor/family explains more why Ed let his first mate be so insulting to and controlling of him and still kept wanting Izzy to stay beside him. It adds more meaning to how Ed veers super hard into the violent Blackbeard role after feeling cornered and threatened by Izzy at the end of the season. (This also has further weight for those of us with family members who have disapproved quite loudly of our queer relationships.)

There is a strong parallel that I noticed previously between young Ed's reaction to his father abusing his mother and season one Ed's reaction to Izzy dueling Stede. Stede is linked to Ed's mother through the red silk and through the fact that Stede and Ed's mother--and Lucius--are the only people we see treating Ed with compassion/softness in season one. It thus makes sense for Izzy to be mirroring Ed's father.

Then there's another parallel in how Ed responded to Izzy mentioning Stede in a mocking way ("pining for his boyfriend") by choking Izzy, like how Ed had once responded to his father threatening his mother by strangling his father. In this moment, Izzy touched Ed's face with an intimate kind of familiarity and said, "There he is." Ed clearly found this unnerving, which some people read as sexually harassment, but it makes just as much sense for it to be his daddy issues getting triggered.

(GIF Sources: captain-flint and divineandmajesticinone)

I think part of why this dynamic was unclear in season one is because the writers wanted us to see that, even though Izzy is a mentor figure who taught Ed certain skills, Ed is a grown man who is fully competent on his own. He had likely started building the Blackbeard legend by the time Izzy met him, he has a clever mind that's constantly coming up with new plans, and when Izzy himself was left as captain, Izzy proved to not have the necessary charisma and compassion to lead the crew. Ed is the star power; Izzy is the manager, so to speak.

However, Izzy overestimates his importance and often talks about himself like he's a martyr to the Blackbeard legend, working so hard to keep both Ed and the crew in line. He claims that he's been "clean[ing] up [Ed's] messes... my whole life," which feels like a very parental complaint to me.

Ed fuels this martyr complex some in season two by physically harming Izzy, but notably, Ed doesn't threaten this kind of harm to the rest of the crew (though he isn't very careful with them either) until he's in the suicidal spiral of driving the ship into a storm. Before that, Ed threatens Izzy specifically, both because Izzy threatened him and Stede in season one and because Ed's trying, in his own fucked-up way, to prove to Izzy that he's following Izzy's guidance and "being Blackbeard." The toe-cutting also has some metaphorical weight: Izzy demanded that Ed "cut off" the gentler pieces of himself to be Blackbeard, so Ed starts cutting off literal pieces of Izzy in return. When it becomes clear that this isn't satisfying Izzy either, that's when Ed really goes off the deep end. ("I loved you the best I could," but I never could be enough to fit your expectations.)

(GIF Source: livelovecaliforniadreams)

Meanwhile, we see Izzy starting to question things specifically in response to Ed saying that Izzy could be replaced as first mate. Izzy thought his place, as a mentor/family and self-professed "martyr", was more secure than that, and it challenges his whole identity.

Throughout season two, the mentor/family dynamic is further emphasized via the parallel between Izzy/Ed/Stede and Auntie/Zheng Yi Sao/Oluwande. Others have discussed this more, but there's so much meaning in the similar ways these characters carry themselves, in the tension of Auntie disapproving of Zheng Yi Sao's feelings for "soft" Oluwande, and in the way Oluwande finally teaches Auntie to soften herself some for Zheng Yi Sao.

(GIF Source: bizarrelittlemew)

Additionally, in episode five of season two, we see Stede turning to Izzy for mentorship, proclaiming that Ed himself had recommended Izzy as someone who "made him into the captain he is today." People have questioned that as being a false manipulation from Stede, but I think there's a good chance that it was true! (Ed probably said this to Stede sometime during season one, when the two of them got to know each other so well.) "Taught him everything he knows" is definitely a flattering exaggeration, but hey.

(GIF Source: ofmdaily)

Throughout this and other episodes, we see Izzy continuing to take on a mentor-like role with Stede and the crew (and eventually Ed) as he tries to recenter himself after the darkness of the first three episodes. It's clear that Izzy is most comfortable playing the gruff and politically incorrect old fighter who offers guidance, but now he's letting himself branch out more and connect to the crew in new gentler ways. He even metaphorically "gives his blessing" to Ed and Stede's first time having sex by providing the musical accompaniment, which is the perfect amount of weird for this show, haha.

(GIF Source: izzyfag)

Izzy's transformative arc in season two also involves a steady pattern of reversals, corrected new versions of his treatment of Ed in season one, as Izzy start coming to terms with the harm he did to Ed. Other people have discussed this in more detail, but I think the pace of this change is realistic to what you would see in such a situation. Ed's responses to this, too, are consistent with him seeing Izzy as a mentor/family.

(GIF Source: edwards-teach)

I should further note that Izzy and Benjamin Hornigold (another abusive father figure from Ed's past) are two characters mirrored by the fact that they call Ed "Eddie" in season two. I can imagine that being the nickname Ed used when he was younger, before growing out of it. Izzy seems to start feeling the echo of that memory of younger Ed when Ed comes to him scared, asking for Izzy to "fix [his] mess" by shooting Ed like Ed "dreamed" about.

(GIF Source: blairpfaff)

Right before Izzy's death, there's a scene where Ed is triggered super hard in his daddy issues by the fisherman "Pop-Pop." I think the writers wanted to remind us of the parental trauma Ed has been through before giving us some catharsis through Izzy's deathbed confession and apology. In that moment, Izzy takes full accountability for what he did, while Ed cries and says, "You're my only family." Izzy redirects him in a final bit of mentorly guidance, telling Ed that the crew is there to be his family if Ed will let himself be loved, truly, in the way Ed has often rejected and distanced himself from being loved.

(GIF Source: izzyfag)

Now, I do think Izzy's death was the right choice for this show. I like that DJenkins went with the classic mentor death trope, and he did a similar thing with Buttons, the other old-timer first mate! I agree likewise with those who have discussed Izzy's loss as being a necessary step for the narrative to move forward both from Ed's darker self/parental trauma and from the older age of piracy that Izzy represents. Izzy was always meant to be a dark reflection of and a narrative support/conflict for Ed, and this is the natural culmination of that. His complicated legacy will continue to be something Ed has to reckon with, however, although Ed is trying to compartmentalize that right now.

I very much hope to see, in season three (🤞🏻), how Ed continues to process his past, especially now that he's trying for a domestic life that will likely lead into marriage. Marriage, from what I've seen, often acts as a staging ground for whatever parental trauma you had growing up, because you look to your parental figures as an example of how to do "adult" things. This is going to be a huge conflict for both Ed and Stede, who has his own personal negative marriage experience. I suspect Izzy will continue to represent this problem in some form or another.

(GIF Sources: kiwistede and yenvengerberg)

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Bullying Victim! x Bully! Reader:

TW: Mention of suicide attempt, murder, stalking, bullying (cofcofabusecofcof), torture, and yandere behavior. Inspired by "The Glory".

-Yandere Bully Victim: Before meeting you and being the target of your group of bullies; He was very alone, having his loving mother as his only company. He was also a very dedicated and intelligent boy, as well as passionate about studying, but he felt that something was missing, although he did not know what.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He applied to one of the best private schools in the country due to a scholarship, because of his high grades.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He was accepted into that school in which the vast majority of students were children of millionaire people (businessmen, politicians, etc…) with influence in the media, except for a few who were middle or lower class.

-Yandere Bully Victim: His first year at that school wasn't a big deal; In fact it was quite boring. Hell began in the second week of classes of the second year of high school. Your group of Bully's took notice of him, as they got bored of his previous victim. The first to make life miserable were your friends, but you were the worst. Your friends cornered him, hit him, robbed him, humiliated him and insulted him and you pretended to defend him (your friends knew you were pretending) and made him believe that you wanted to be his friend. You pretended to be a support network for him and as a result, he fell more and more in love with you.

-Not to mention that no matter how much the Yandere Bully Victim reported your friends' abuse to teachers or the police, money always bought the authorities. Furthermore, he had lost his mother because of the father of one of your colleagues, since she threatened to make public everything that Yandere Bully Victim suffered because of his evil son.

-As for you… he not only developed a strong emotional dependence on you; not accepting that you didn't love him, and once he even tried to forcibly kiss you and beg, just to earn a slap from you. After this, his yandere and vengeful behavior began (after a failed suicide attempt). He was later forced to give up school and get precarious jobs at the age of sixteen; while you, your friends and boyfriend (also his bully) at that time enjoyed a life of luxury and power.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He was forced to live in a small room after being evicted from his old house; in addition to living off precarious jobs as a janitor, deliveryman, waiter, etc.; while he tried to save as much money as he could, at the same time that he had to do school online through a borrowed laptop at the time. As I said before, his intelligence and grades were very good, so he got into a good university despite not having that much money.

-Yandere Bully Victim: At university he studied medicine, since since he was a child he wanted to be a doctor. He had to work hard not only studying and working, but also making friends and meeting important people in the profession. He studied a lot; he managed to specialize general surgery; save and earn more and more money, move to a thousand times better house, and how could you not? follow in your and your friend's footsteps; thus discovering everything that both you and they currently do; including dirty secrets.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He did not work alone, but had to do everything with the help of detectives. Long story short, Yandere Bully Victim was getting rid of every single one of your friends and family. He not only revealed every dirty secret he had in his possession (anonymously) to your loved ones and the internet, but he murdered them one by one.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He watched as chaos broke out in your life no matter what you tried to do. Your family's reputation was stained; your partner and children left you because they hated you; Not only did your friends betray you, but now one by one they are dead (leaving you as a suspect); They fired you and now your ENTIRE history of evilness was made public, but the Yandere Bully Victim, not happy with that, kidnapped you some time later in the basement of his house.

-Yandere Bully Victim: He still loved you, but his desire for revenge was very great and he didn't wait long. He reminded you day after day of what you did to him in the past; how he loved you; what you make him feel and how crazy he is in love with you; He reminded you of how now you no longer have anyone but him; that your children hate you; how you lost your job and how the police are looking for you on suspicion of murder. This made you angry, insult him and curse him.

-Yandere Bully Victim: Then he ended up torturing you physically, cutting your body; hitting you and burning things on your body as payment. He did it not only because he loved you and wanted to leave marks for it, but for revenge. Then he would heal you and then do the same to you.

-The End.

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /four/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

A/N: We're getting closer to her returning to the IC and I'm so happy about that. I also had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you enjoy!

Part One Part Two Part Three

The following days were much the same, watching from a distance as Tamlin worked hard to woo the young Feyre. Your eyes rolled every time he tried to complement her. She didn’t belong here. Just like you didn’t belong here. She was too much of a dreamer to become a High Lord’s wife, or little play thing. Too much of a dreamer to be held down by his endless rules and customs. 

She deserved so much more. You deserved more. 

Imagines of wings and starlight fill your head every time you close your eyes. You could see all of them, laughing at The House of Wind over dinner, having a grand time without you. They moved on, you know they had. But you couldn’t move on from them, no matter how hard you tried. You yearned for them. 

You yearned for Cassian and his brutish humor, the kind that always got him in trouble with your mother, but always made you laugh harder than you should. You yearned for Morrigan and her never ending support when your father was being particularly dastardly. And Azriel….oh how you longed for him. The gentle touches of his shadows, the shy smiles, and rare bouts of laughter. Besides your brother, you missed Azriel most of all. 

He was your Az, and yet you had no claim to him. But he seemed to understand that you belonged to one another. Maybe that’s why you made the promises you did. 

Where you go I go, but whatever we do we do it together. 

You made that promise before you flew for the first time. You were too afraid to fly as a child, but when Azriel came along and had to learn so late in life….well you got over your fear for him. You grasped his scarred hand in your tiny one and led him to the edge of the House of Wind. Why they decided that was the best place to learn to fly, you’ll never quite understand. 

But it was then that you looked up at him, tears in your eyes due to fear, that you spoke, “Where you go I go.”

He nodded slowly, hair blowing in the wind, “But we do it together.”

“Together,” You agreed, holding his hand tighter. 

And together you leapt from the ledge and let the wind take hold of your wings. Together you wobbled, but still stayed afloat. Together you figured it out, never once letting go of the other. And when you landed back on the roof, you held him so tightly as he laughed. And it was then that you decided that was the most beautiful sound you ever heard. It was then that you decided you would do anything to hear that laugh and see that smile as much as possible. 

And it was then that he decided he would always protect you, because you were his just as much as he was yours. 

“He’s sending her back,” Lucien’s voice drew you from your thoughts. 

“He’s what?”

“Your brother came,” Lucien says, face pale, “Took her mind, threatened to crush it. It isn’t safe for her here anymore, time is almost up. So Tam is sending her back.”

“He’s a damned fool,” you hiss, “She’s in love with him, it’s plain as day to see! All he has to do is get her to admit it, but he can’t do that, can he? He’s giving up, all because my brother decided to come and scare him?”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t, but when does the brutality of the Night Court surprise Tamlin?” You question, “He’s seen it first hand, he knows what we’ll do to him. Why do you think he keeps me full of Faebane? Huh?” 

“Y/N-”

“He knows I could shred all of your minds so easily,” You nearly laugh, “I could make Rhys look like child’s play if I really wanted to. You think he is vile and violent? See what happens when I have all of my powers, Lucien. There’ll be nothing left to bury. I could raze the Spring Court to the ground and not feel a thing about it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m a prisoner here, don’t think that I wouldn’t take the first chance to escape,” You shake your head, “No matter who I have to kill. I might still be a child compared to the rest of you but I’m a child of the Night. Brutality is in my blood.” 

“You aren’t like them-”

“Oh? Am I not? Just because I’ve been docile so far doesn’t mean it isn’t inside of me. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. I always have been, dear Lucien. I am the most dangerous person in this manor, and he’s a fool to forget it.”

His face contorts into something that you aren’t quite able to read. Pride wells in your chest knowing you’re doing your job. You want to feel sick about it, want to feel sick about the role you’re playing. But if it brings you one step closer to your brother then you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. All you want is to go home again. You just want Rhys to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright again. 

“Tamlin deserves what's coming to him,” you hiss, “You all do.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh but I do. I hope Rhys enjoys breaking every single one of you. And if he doesn’t, I will,” You take a step closer to Lucien, “By the cauldron I promise you, I will break this court apart piece by piece and I will laugh as I do it. And I won’t stop until he’s the only one left standing, and all he has to claim is rubble.” 

It rises up in your chest, and you feel it escaping through your fingertips, the darkness you used to run from long ago. You smile at it, feeling it wrap up your arms and cascade down towards the floor. It took a lot of energy to conjure it. You would be exhausted afterwards. But it would be worth it. 

Lucien took a step back, and then another. Head shaking. You knew what you looked like. A vile smile on your face, darkness twirling all around you. You looked like your big brother. You felt the power flowing through your veins, what little you had left of it anyway. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Lucien.” 

Tamlin sent Feyre back to the human lands the following day. You watched from your window with a scowl on your face as the carriage took her away. Tamlin was giving up and damning all of you in the process. Amerantha would come for him soon enough, and then there would be nothing left for you but to run. 

Maybe you could make it to the Night Court, maybe you would be lucky. 

“Once she comes, you’re free,” Tamlin spoke over dinner that night. 

“Perhaps,” You do your best to sound bored. 

You had to control your heart, so you didn’t give away how scared you truly were. If she found you, you would be dead in an instant. Or maybe she’d use you as a toy to get Rhys to do her bidding some more. He was already her whore, but perhaps she wanted more. She wanted him on his knees for her. And even you knew that he bowed before no one but his court. 

“Maybe I’ll stay here, I’ve grown quite fond of this place.”

“Liar.” Lucien bites out. 

One look from you though and he stands down. What he doesn’t know is you slept for almost twelve hours after your little display earlier. It took everything you had, all of your energy and what power you had. But it was worth every second to see the look on Lucien’s face. To know that you were still able to scare him enough. 

“Something you add, Lucien?” You question, venom dripping from your words. 

His head shakes, swallowing deeply. It only makes you smirk. You were so close to going home, to any semblance of home. Maybe your brother wouldn’t be there, but you’d be free. The Court of Nightmares had to be better than living here. 

“You should hide,” Tamlin says slowly, “They’re coming.”

“Now?”

He only nods, and reaches for more wine. He seems too calm. But then again he’s already given up. He gave up the second he sent Feyre back across the wall to her family. You can’t help but scoff as you rise to your feet. You expected him to fight back, maybe even for Lucien to fight. But you didn’t expect them to just lay down and roll over and let Amerantha march her cronies in here and take everyone. 

“You’re a coward, Tamlin.”

“So you’ve been saying for hundreds of years.”

“You should have just killed me.”

“Heard that too.” 

Your eyes roll, “I hope you have fun as her dog.” 

“Enjoy your freedom, Y/N.” 

You scoff again, “You best hope I never get the chance to kill you, Tamlin. I won’t make it as quick as my brother made your family's death.” 

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @saltedcoffeescotch @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @queerqueenlynn @minnieoo @maddybraps @mariahoedt @witchymomfrien

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Blurry Faces

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

Cale hated peeking into your life without your consent, and yet here he is, seeing the things you have went through and how they shaped you to be the person you were.

trigger warning: implied sexual assault and pseudo-incest, mentions self-harm scars, suicide, death.

You don't know where you are. A man, no, a child is holding your hand. You don't know anymore. Faces and bodies are morphing too quickly for you to comprehend.

"Please." A voice pleads to you, the way it has been doing for the last few days. Has it been days? Years?

"I don't want to," you say with a broken voice, tired of rejecting this request over and over again. "I don't know you."

"Yes, you do," the voice insists, sounding like a chorus of people talking. "You are the reason why we are here, why we have a home."

John disappeared a long time ago, taking his pleasant memories with him. He had faded slowly to the point he was unable to acknowledge you before he completely disappeared, leaving you alone. You were left alone and in the dark, as your memories played over and over again, good and bad. His memories no longer overlapped yours and you no longer see him. The memories that flashed in front of you had begun growing shorter and shorter, cutting the memories of you and Cale along with the others as if it never happened.

You feel like you were being gaslit. You remember waking up to see Cale, holding his hand and crying over him. You remember the sweet tea you share with Rosalyn, the amused grins with Alver, and the laughs of the children. You remember them. Let me remember them. 

"They don't exist," insisted the voice. 

"They do!" You fought back. You will hold onto these memories until your fingernails bleed and claw marks appear on them. You don't care. The moment you let go, you know you cannot have them back. You cannot enjoy life anymore if you let them go. "They're my-"

"They are your nothing," the voice spat. You feel rigid hands held onto you and force you to turn around. You were faced with the scene of your life before, one with your father when you were a child.

You see your child self sat on her father's lap, grasping at his shirt as your child self looked out at the rowdy playground, much too shy and scared to join the other kids. You see your father's large hand patting your back comfortingly, bouncing your child self on his knee to soothe you. You hear your father's comforting words as he talks to your child self.

"Come on, sweetie," says your father in a soothing voice; his voice so soft that you were stunned at the memory of the tenderness he was showing you. "I'm here for you. Take your time."

"No!" You exclaimed, turning away from the scene and walking away until the scene faded away. "Stop it!"

A scene of your mother appeared, her holding resting on a hospital bed with her face laden with sweat and tears. She held onto a bundle of blankets, cooing with tears in her eyes as she spoke to her baby. "Hi, [Name]."

What is all this? Why are these things happening? Why are you being shown the love within your mother's eyes for the first time here, and not when she was still alive? Why does your father comforting you over a rowdy playground have been so easy, but not when you started to show symptoms of depression?

"No, no, no!" You yelled, crouching down and covering your ears, eyes closed tight as tears threatened to spill. "They're all dead to me!"

"[Name]," a familiar voice called, too soft to the point it felt foreign.

Suddenly, you were five again. 

You look up at the faces of your parents, young and not yet influenced by their suppressed emotions and rage. Your mother smiled at you and your father pats your [h/c] hair. 

"Come here," says your mother softly, kneeling down and hugging you so gently that you burst into tears. This is not your mother. Or is she? You don't know. You never thought of her to be capable of showing tenderness or love in a way that wouldn't hurt you.

"Mom," you cried. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry--"

"Sshh," your mother says in a comforting voice. 

"I was--" You struggled to breathe as you tried to hold down your sobs, tears streaming nonstop and your throat hurt from the strain you're putting on it for not crying out. "Please, go away."

"No, I love you," she replied, and your lips quivered, more tears streaming down.

"I hate you."

"I know," she murmured. "I still love you."

You don't need her love. You have taught yourself to love yourself, to be better and other people have loved you immensely. You don't need her love. You have enough of your own.

"I hate you," you whisper breathlessly.

"I love you."

You broke down, crying to her shoulder, your arms limp by your side as you refused to hug her. Your mother doesn't deserve a hug from you. You've cut your skin too many times as a result of her actions and you will not show her love with the same arms. 

"My baby," your father says softly, joining the hug. His hands felt rigid and when you looked down, his nails were caked with dirt underneath them.

"Stay here with us."

Cale covered his mouth and nose when he saw what was underneath the roots of the main tree of the island.

Piles of skeletons filled what used to be a great hall underneath the roots, most of them stacked high on the stone altar. They were all brittle and dry, proof that it had been a long time since they all died. Despite that, the stench of a rotten corpse wafts in the air.

"Urghh..." Ohn grimaced, covering her nose with her paws, staying with her sibling outside of the cave.

"Cale-nim," Rosalyn says, eyes staring at the rotten corpse of a man leaning on the stone altar, head down with a gaping hole in his chest, dried blood around him along with guts. "Her Highness' story about a man on this island..."

They had previously believed that the corpse of a man Withira had mentioned must be the man from the folklore of the Whale kingdom. The corpse of that man was holding the hand of another body that was laid on the altar in a tight grip.

'[Name],' Cale thought to himself, tempted to step closer the moment his eyes laid on the scattered [h/c] hair on the stone altar from afar, laid underneath the skeletons piled on top.

Rosalyn let out a soft gasp when she saw your body, eyes going glassy as she covered her mouth. "Is that...?"

"Be careful, Cale," Choi Han warned, recalling the story Withira had told them about being attacked when she got too close to the altar when she needed to confirm whether you were alive or not.

Cale stayed quiet, trying to rack his brain on how to move from their spots. 

'Will I be able to control the trees around here?' He thought to himself.

'Perhaps,' the gluttonous priestess answered him. 'But... I feel something within these trees. Something divine.'

'Divine?' Cale repeated. This cements the three saints' suspicions of you being tricked by a god. He tries to identify some of the things he could work with and classify whatever god had once been worshipped within the island, but he comes up with nothing. 

"Wait," Cale says, observing the corpse of a man further from where he stood. "Ron, confirm to me whether or not that's Captain John from where you are."

Ron frowned, bending down a bit to look at the slumped corpse from afar, eying the uniform and the crest that was embroidered on the corpse's blazer. Despite how the head of the corpse was down, Ron could easily spot the signature scars on the man's arms. He closed his eyes in resignation once he found his answer. "I can confirm that is Captain John, Young Master-nim."

"So the last two had been here," Cale murmured. 

"It appears so," said Ron, standing up straight. 

"What to do now?" Choi Han asked Cale. They don't have much room to move with the knowledge they will get attacked if they get too close.

Cale let out a sigh. This island had cobblestones, surrounded by trees, and the ocean wasn't too far away. He had Choi Han, Rosalyn, and a mighty dragon here. 

"We will now commence our rescue mission," Cale says, his voice firm. "Miss Rosalyn, Raon, and I will try to take care of the defense while Choi Han tries to grab [Name] from the altar stone along with the captain. We have to try to not fight the island and immediately escape back to the waters where the Whales are waiting for us."

Many things could happen if Choi Han tried to do that. The ruin could immediately collapse on them as they were being held up by the strong barks. If the strong barks let go of them to attack Choi Han--

'This is your playground,' says the gluttonous priestess. 'This island might belong to a God, but you can control nature here to a certain degree to save [Name] and retrieve the captain's dead body.'

Cale raised his hands, watching as the strong barks of the tree twitch to his will. He would not be able to control the main tree as its size was too big for him and most likely is the manifestation of a god that was once worshipped on the island. They would have more control over the tree than him.

Choi Han silently walked to the altar, the sound of his footsteps nonexistent as he took cautious steps and his hand held the handle of his sword, ready to attack anything that came his way. He pushed away the piling skeletons from your body, all of them falling to the ground and shattering due to how brittle they were.

Choi Hand placed a hand on your cheek and let out a relieved, excited smile when he felt warmth. "[Name]..."

"I-Is she alive?" Ohn stammered, watching Choi Han's smile widen upon touching you.

Choi Han looked up, nodding with glassy eyes. "Y-yes. Her breathing is a bit shallow, but she's alive."

"Come here, [Name]," Choi Han says softly, tucking his hand under you and trying to lift you. "Let's go home--"

Choi Han paused when your body couldn't be picked up from the altar. He looked down at your unconscious body, trying to find the reason why he couldn't lift you and he saw a few of what seemed to be long vines that were on the ground and had crawled up to your hand, up your arm, and then into your sleeves, the way they crawled up your hand resembled veins. 

"Something's wrong," Choi Han announced to them all.

"What's the matter?" Cale asked, watching Choi Han rip your sleeve off.

Choi Han tilts your body a bit to face the others and show off the way the green thick vines attached themselves to your skin, arranged like veins with leaves. He ripped your shirt further, stopping when he saw how the vines gathered right above your left breast, gathering into a circle and penetrating your skin, dried blood dripping down your skin.

Rosalyn covered her mouth at the sight. "Oh, God, is that... Are they going straight for her heart?"

A cold chill went down Cale's spine at the realization that the reason you might be still alive was because the island was keeping your heart alive. Had you... became one with the island? Are you the reason why the island has become sentient?

Choi Han touched the stems that gathered in your heart, noticing how the vines seemed to be pulsing along with your heart. He figured they were acting like some sort of cardiac device for you. His heart sank when he realized it was far too dangerous to rip off the vines. "We can't take her away." 

All of their eyes widened in surprise when the vines and barks seemed to move and form a tall, humanoid figure that loomed over Choi Han. A dianthus flower sat in the center of what seemed to be its face.

"Did you think you'd be able to fool me?" 

Choi Han covered your body with his, his sword drawn out to protect, gaze growing dark as he glared at the humanoid figure made of vines and moss. "Who are you?"

A thick bark came out and swung over towards Choi Han but was stopped mid-air. Cale's hand was raised, stopping the bark from moving. He found himself overwhelmed with the amount of strength he had to put out to stop the entity from moving. He coughed out blood almost immediately, the blood coming out like vomit. At the same time, Rosalyn had put out a shield over Choi Han and the altar.

"H-Human!" Raon exclaimed, watching as Cale dropped to his knees but still kept himself to stop the entity from moving. The kittens ran to his side and Ron held Cale back so he wouldn't slump forward to the ground.

'He doesn't... feel malicious,' the Super Rock pointed out, sounding a bit flabbergasted as he was referring to the entity. 

"Leave," commanded the entity, pointing to the ocean where Withira and her Whales were waiting for them. 

"Not without [Name]," Rosalyn said with a determined look. A chill went up her spine when the humanoid figure turned its head to look at her, the singular dianthus flower in the middle of a blank slate of face somehow making him look more unsettling.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible," says the entity. "She is happy here."

The entity leaned down to Choi Han. The branches creak and snap as the blank slate that acts as a face was suddenly split widely like a monster opening its jaw.

"I was--" Your voice emerged in an echo from the entity's opened jaws, your voice sounding broken as it sounded like you were crying. "Please go away."

Rosalyn let out a shudder, tears gathering in her eyes at the sound of your voice again. She had nearly forgotten how your voice sounded. However, Cale was unnerved at how this entity was capable of having your voice. How does this all work? He can see the vines that formed the humanoid shape are connected to the one that's crawling up your heart. This entity most likely was keeping you alive by itself.

The entity's jaws creaked and then closed again back to a blank slate. "Leave."

Cale frowned, looking up at the entity. He's determined to know why exactly you were being kept alive. "What are you?"

The entity straightened itself. "It no longer matters. I've lost all the people willing to worship my name."

"So you're a deity," Rosalyn said, confirming their suspicions for the last few weeks. You wrote in your letter of believing it was a god or some kind that had been communicating with you within your head. Deep down, Rosalyn was relieved this wasn't a case of psychosis. 

"Then is this your attempt to get more worshippers?" Cale asked. "By taking an innocent woman?"

"One that belongs to me," says the entity, the vines, and branches that were formed into a tall humanoid figure elongated until its blank slate of a face was close to Cale, the single dianthus flower swishing with its movements. Cale was looking up at the entity in front of him. He could feel an incredible force of it all like he should be getting on his knees and pressing his forehead down to the dirty earth, but he didn't.

Cale looks up at the god, face hardened with a determined frown. 

'It is most likely an ancient god,' says the gluttonous priestess, her tone a bit hesitant as she could sense the weakness within how the God controls their branches. 'Can you feel the divinity within their branches and vines? He is channeling the lives of hundreds into that [Name] girl. I never thought that could be... possible.'

Cale glanced around the skeletons that were around the ruin. These were the remains of the dug-up graves they had stumbled upon earlier. These people were their worshippers and they have dug up desecrated their graves and put them here. 

"Leave!"

The ruins seemed to shake from the sheer weight of the god's roaring voice. A thick bark sprouted from the side of its body and swung at Cale. The redhead immediately conjured his silver shield and a loud bang was heard when the bark hit it. Cale felt blood coming up to his throat and he coughed it out, his heart pumping wildly as the Vitality of the Heart pushed him to keep standing. 

"Cale-nim!" Choi Han exclaimed. He was about to move from your body when a couple of vines had managed to wrap around his feet and keep him in place. He swung his sword at them and with every vine cut, more grew and grew up his limbs.

"Fine," says the god. "She's in need of a new heart, anyways. I can see you all are special."

Cale's eyes widened and he immediately put the pieces together. Why John managed to be here was because he was needed for his heart. The reason why those graves were dug up was because the god was desperate to find something to keep you alive, and it made him think there must be some sort of intangible force of energy that only a primordial god could tangle and control that could bring back the dead.

John's rotten corpse with a large, gaping hole in the middle tells Cale that this god will not be hesitant to kill them all.

"Ron, take the children and go!" Cale exclaimed. 

"Oh, now, you want to leave?" asked the god with a sinister laugh, going back to the walls of the ruin as vines and then spreading out. The trees and vines began to squirm, coming alive as their god returned.

This was their playground. 

"Let's go," Ron says, bending down to pick up the kittens and immediately sprinting out toward where they had come from.

"Raon, go!" Cale exclaimed. "Make sure Ron and the others reach Her Highness Withira!"

"Y-Yes!" Raon replied hesitantly, flying towards where Ron had run off. "I-I will come back!"

"No, stay with them!" Cale yelled to him.

Rosalyn ran up to Choi Han and your body by the altar, trying to rip off the vines that were beginning to cover your body. This was the god's attempt to keep you away from them again, and she will not have it. She whispered your name over and over again, hands slightly shaking as she touched your warm skin every time she ripped a vine, how thorns began to grow on the vines and they buried themselves deep into the magician's hands everytime they claw to save you.

"Miss Rosalyn--!" Cale watched as Rosalyn's legs were caught by the vines before she was pulled down to fall on the dirty ground, thorns embedding themselves to her flesh. 

"No!" Choi Han yelled in terror, trying to rip away the vines that were slowly beginning to cover his torso, wanting to save Rosalyn as she tried to free herself from the vines that were pulling her to the walls.

"Focus on her!" Rosalyn exclaimed as she was dragged, her face pale and cringing in pain. She seemed to catch on that the vines simply didn't want her around you and the best thing to do to not lose her leg was to stop squirming so much. "I will be fine!"

Cale barely felt the vines wrapping around his arms and before he could process it, he was immediately slammed to the walls of the ruin. His back hit the old stones and he groaned, the back of his head being hit causing him to immediately dizzy. He was suspended up on the walls, giving him a high view of you on the altar and Choi Han who was still on the ground, slowly being wrapped in vines and thorns.

Rosalyn was across him on the walls as well, suspended there while the vines grew up to their torso. Cale could feel the vines move across his body, slinking to his sleeves and then they probe around the scar on his chest. Without any warning, the vines tore at his flesh and he could hear Rosalyn's scream, her own heart being wrapped in vines as well as his.

"A-arghh-!" Choi Han groaned in pain as he could feel the vines enter his body.

'The kid's going to die!' Cale could hear the cheapskate shrill in his head. 'Cale, use me. Use your powers and get rid of this island.'

'He can't,' responded the Super Rock. 'The island is keeping that [Name] alive. If he destroys the island, he kills her as well.'

'It's either he kills her, or he kills not only himself, but everyone here,' argued the thief. 

Amid all the chaos, the Fire of Destruction whispered to Cale in a pleading voice.

' Kid, you have to let her go.'

Cale recalls your smile and your voice. For a moment, he nearly thought his Records have failed him when he nearly couldn't muster the thought of your eyes, but when he managed to finally grasp onto the memory of you, he held on to it.

Cale felt his eyes begin to grow weak, vines wrapped around his heart and he could feel his shirt being soaked in his own blood. The vines carefully avoid poking too much into his organs and some of them soak up the blood. The vines seemed to glow the moment they were touched by his blood, and every single vine that was tearing at him was connected to yours. He could only assume Rosalyn and Choi Han were given the same treatment. They most likely will die out of blood loss if this keeps on going.

'Cale!' the Ancient Powers inside him call for him, like a parent calling desperately for their child.

Cale closed his eyes, and he mustered the power to call for thunderbolts. He could feel it brewing in the skies right above them, and he could also feel himself slipping away. By the time the first thunderbolt struck, Cale was no longer conscious.

"Oh, that's awful. I feel sorry for them."

Cale blinked owlishly as he stared at you. You were sitting down in front of him, dressed in modern clothes and your laptop open. Across from your seat was a faceless man, long legs stretched as the faceless man sat sideways on the chair.

Cale looked around, noticing that the space he was in was a cafe, similar to what he used to have in his previous world. He looked down at his chest, seeing that it wasn't wounded. He then goes back to stare at you as you converse with the faceless man, a look of faux disgust on your face. He leaned forward to look at what was on his laptop, seeing it to be an academic manuscript. Is this... your memory from your previous life before being transported?

"Uh, yeah..." The faceless man says with a small, nervous laugh. The faceless man seemed to turn to you. "I don't understand why she's so adamant about keeping her distance from you."

"She'd rather have her fifteen and six-year-old daughters to see her suffer than have me take care of her," you said nonchalantly, typing away at your laptop to cite a passage. 

"[Name], please," says the faceless man, turning to face you properly. "I-I know I'm being shameless by asking you to take care of her, but I can't--"

"You'd rather have me take care of your wife than your kids?" You cut him off, glancing up at the man.

By the bits of information, Cale could assume that the faceless man was your stepfather. He had known your mother had remarried after divorcing your father and you had two stepsisters. Your mother had died due to stage four breast cancer and lived only within two months before dying. You had been the one to take care of her despite her verbal abuse every time you visited her.

"[Name], please."

'Ah, so this is why,' Cale thought, watching you rubbing your face in exasperation before you let out a sigh of resignation. He had always wondered why you took care of your mother when the woman had been nothing but horrible to you. It was the request of her husband.

"Okay."

Cale wondered why he was seeing all this. He recalled how the vines had glowed when it touched his blood and every single vine that was glowing had been connected to yours. He could only hypothesize that he had been connected to you in some way and it would allow him to get a peek of your past; of the things you've been hiding.

Cale sees your stepfather reaching for your hand, murmuring a thank-you.

Your face seemed tired.

He doesn't like having access to your past. You're secretive for a reason and this felt like a violation of your trust in him. 

The sight of you and your stepfather faded and it morphed into a living room, another faceless man sleeping on the couch. Cale could tell this was a different man. It might be because you only remember their outlines but not their faces anymore. You're in the background, cutting vegetables by the kitchen island with a tired look on your face. Cale approached you, eyes trained on how you expertly cut off the stems of a particular vegetable in your hand. He couldn't exactly see what it was, as it was morphing back and forth between spinach, cabbage, and cucumbers. Maybe you don't remember, and that's why your memories are filling the lost memories by themselves.

"How was she?" asked the faceless man lying on the couch.

"Sick," you replied curtly. The man says something inaudible and you sigh. "She's not getting any better, Dad. It would be better if she just died."

"You should just die."

"I'm trying," you clipped back, cutting the vegetables more aggressively. 

There was a few moments of silence where neither you nor your father didn't talk. Cale sat on a stool by the kitchen island, watching how you frowned deeply while you prepared your dinner for your father together. He tried to touch your hand, and like a ghost, his touch went through your body. It unnerved him how you were in front of him, though younger in age, but he couldn't touch you.

His heart ached. This was you, but this also wasn't the you he knew. His memory of you in Record overlaps with the image he sees in front of him, but some things are different. Not only was your hair shorter here, but your eyes lacked the glimmer he usually sees within you. Your body looked thinner here, unhealthy. His eyes roamed over your figure, ingraining the sight to Records and just seeing how badly it had been for you.

"I'm sorry, [Name]," your father says quietly. "I was just... worried about your mother."

'But not me?' Your expression seems to say, but you stay silent and continue prepping the dinner.

"It's okay."

You cooked dinner and ate none of it. 

The dark clouds gathered above the island and Raon could easily tell that it was his human's powers. He had seen it too many times and had seen the risk that affected Cale's body whenever he used at least one of his powers. And when that rose-gold thunder struck down, the sound had vibrated the air. The flash of the majestic thunder reached them first before it broke the sound barrier and the thunder rumbled, the air around the island vibrating the moment the lightning struck down on the gigantic tree in the middle of the island.

"No!" Ron had yelled at Raon the moment the dragon had seemed to show his desire to immediately head to the burning island.

"But, human-!" Raon began to protest, turning to face the older man and he stopped when he saw the look on Ron's face.

Ron had always had the expression of faux benign and if not, he would have a slightly irritated expression. But this time, in his eyes that were reflecting the flames of the burning floating island, Ron sees some kind of firm belief and also desperation. How can the man show such a juxtaposition of an expression was beyond Raon who still had so much to learn about expressiveness and humanity, but he could see it.

Ron's belief that he could have his young master back many times like he always has kept him on his feet and stayed in his place, but this was going to be the first time he would have his daughter back, if that was even possible, that kept him antsy and hope as if he was a pious man that has completely willed their destiny towards something that couldn't sympathize with him. He desired to believe in salvation, not his, but yours.

You were so unforgivably human. A normal aspect within this superhuman group and the fact that they would be able to get you back tasted too sweet for his mouth that he felt like his teeth would rot and fall out. You weren't Cale. Choi Han. Rosalyn. For goodness sake, you weren't even Beacrox. You were you, with no superhuman abilities that were gifted or taught to you nor do you have a god that loves you so deeply that they wanted to keep you alive.

"Don't," Ron says, the embers of the burnt leaves and shrubs from the island blowing past them as if they're snow, the flames from the island illuminating their faces. "Have faith in them."

Faith, what a ridiculous word it was to come out of the mouth of a murderer. Have faith.

For one reason Ron could not believe in God was due to the fact that such a mighty being could never sympathize with humans. They were omniscient, so they could never feel how humans feel. They do not hate and love like humans do. Humans die and that is why they feel things so intensely. Gods were mighty and they exist for so many eras and they don't age. They see things as insignificant when it doesn't concern their reign. How can something mighty and timeless understand the pain and beauty of living?

The fire licked away at the leaves of the trees and the crackling sounds of the burning trees sounded so serene. 

"Will they be okay in there?" Beacrox asked his father, looking at the burning island.

"It's only the top of the tree that is burning," answered Withira instead, looking up at the titan tree and how most of it was singed black at the top and the embers of the fire were eating away at the thick barks that swirled together like tendrils. "They're situated at the hollow space that is surrounded by the root. I doubt Cale-nim would strike down his thunder while they're there."

"Even so," Ron murmured, narrowing his eyes at the island. "Your Highness, may I ask of you to lead your men to keep an eye if any of them jump out of the island?"

Withira nodded slowly. "Of course. I'll have my men surround the island from a safe distance and keep an eye out."

Choi Han has heard you say multiple times in a joking manner that time was simply a concept whenever you were late for something, how time wasn't real, and how it really shouldn't matter that much.

He's starting to believe it.

He stood here, within the shadows of your memories, watching how days pass by in your memories yet it felt like minutes to him. How magnificent it was that a God could do this. 

He learned many things about you. You were someone from the modern world, much like him and Cale. You suffered depression. You loved music and listened to it no end. You had an emotionally abusive father. You loved going thrift shopping. You weren't close to your sisters. You loved the cheap tuna mayo sandwich your classmate would bring you. You hated your mother. 

You were practically living in the hospital to aid your mother. The cancer on her breast had spread fast and she had become paralyzed as it spread to her marrowbone. Her husband was busy at work so he rarely came by, but whenever he did, he would bring his daughters along to "visit their mother and older sister". You knew the nanny must have ditched last minute. Your sisters would leave, faces scrunched in disgust whenever the hospital room smelled like feces, and stood by the corner of the room quietly as you picked up your mother to change her diaper and clean her up every time.

Your father would be at home, refusing to visit your mother to respect her wishes to never meet again but incessantly asking for her well-being to you whenever you got home late at night. You wonder how much love your father has from such a violent woman that even though he was abandoned just like you, his love endured. You thought of him as stupid, but other times you wish you could have that preservance in loving someone. In believing in the idea of someone so much that it blinds you.

"What's that?" asked your six-year-old sister, standing by your chair as you were writing down your notes, your chair not too far from your mother's hospital bed, the older woman knocked out with morphine.

You turned to the little girl, smiling half-heartedly as you didn't want to be bothered. "It's just my notes."

"For what?" pestered the young child.

"Studying," you answered, setting down your pen and closing your book, giving all your attention to the little girl.

"I study, too," the little girl says, and Choi Han sees that you are hesitant to continue the conversation.

"Yeah?" You eventually prompted with a small grin, still uncomfortable. "What do you like studying about?"

The little girl waved her nemo doll fish in her hand. "Fishies."

You smiled, tired already from the conversation. You had a long day from watching over your mother. The woman had gotten high off of morphine and had hit you multiple times when you were trying to change her out of her diaper. The nurses doubled her dose.

"That's good. I like fishes, too."

You left to go to the bathroom and when you returned, Choi Han saw that your sister had drawn fishes on the margins of your notes. You touch them whenever you're concentrating.

There were moments like that that showed the girls appreciated you for watching over their mother. The two weren't blind to the abuse you suffered while you cared for their mother - your mother. You were doing your bachelor's while caring for your mother, studying all night in the dim hospital room, having no life outside of being a caretaker.

"Don't you get tired of it all?" asked the fifteen-year-old sister this time while you were leaning back in your chair, a neck pillow on your shoulders. 

"I do," you replied to her, eyes trained on your sleeping mother.

"Then why are you still here?"

You turned to your sister, seeing the way she was so similar to her mother - your mother. Her lovely brown hair and gray eyes. You think of your mother. You think of how much potential she had had she not married your father, had she not given birth to you. What type of girl was she? Would she take the right side or the left side in front of a camera? What did she want to be when she grew up? 

Choi Han watched you grasp the hand of your younger sister. "Because it'll come back. The love I have given here today will come back to me."

Your sister frowned. "I think it's time you start to care about yourself a little more."

An older sister who sees the need to be tender despite it all, and the younger sister who thought of her as stupid for loving a dead woman, Maybe you have become your father. Maybe that's why your mother didn't like you both; you were both idiots who kept on drinking poison just because you were thirsty.

As your mother's health deteriorated, Choi Han saw how much it affected your sisters. They cried at random times and were beginning to help around with taking care of her. Your six-year-old sister sings random notes in off-key to entertain her sick mother while your fifteen-year-old sister is learning how to help you lift the woman off the bed if you ever need to clean her up.

The day she finally passed away, you slept soundly in your chair not far away from her bed. It was the most pristine memory of yours that Choi Han had ever seen when you woke up, hearing the soft murmurs of the nurses as they gently shook you awake, how the heartbeat monitor was no longer beeping. Sunlight passes through the blinds and for the first time, the room feels light.  

Would it be too cruel for Choi Han to describe it as if a great evil had finally disappeared?

You didn't participate in the funeral arrangements and simply attended with your father. He cried and you held his hand, thumb brushing over his palm to soothe his pain the best you could. Choi Han doesn't understand the level of love someone could have for the people who have made them suffer. 

You stood outside of the funeral home, cigarette lit between your lips. Your fifteen-year-old sister stands beside you.

"Do you regret taking care of her every day? Just for her to end up dead?"

"I don't regret being kind."

"I bet you're thinking that it's good riddance."

Choi Han could see emotions bubbling in the teen's chest, how they were looking for an outlet to spill their feelings onto. To yell out their love into the void, because that was what grief was. To have your love nowhere else to go.  

You saw it as well and threw down your cigarette, stepping on it to put out the embers. Your silence didn't help much as your sister began to choke on her tears before she eventually sobbed. You offer her a hand and she takes it, and you immediately wrap your scarred arms around your sister as if she were your lifeline.

"My mom," she sobs in your arms. "I don't have a mom anymore."

You stayed quiet, kissing her cheek and temple to ease her pain as best as you could. The action seemed to only drive your young sister to more crying; "I'm so sorry for all she's done to you... It's all my fault."

"Don't apologize," you whispered. "Children shouldn't carry the sins of their parents. You've done nothing to me."

"I exist," she replied, hiccuping. 

"And how wonderful is that?" You cupped her cheek, smiling. "That you exist."

Choi Han watched you sit with your sisters until the youngest one fell asleep with her head on your lap, while your fifteen-year-old sister still talked with you animatedly even though it was nearly midnight. The funeral was still going and he became alarmed the moment everyone in the room began to fade into grey silhouettes, leaving you the only figure with a face.  

From far away, Choi Han saw your father standing by the exit door of the funeral home, popping out like a sore thumb between all the grey, dull silhouettes. What kind of memory was this? Were you hyper-aware of your father even though he was standing so far away?

"[Name], I need to talk to you."

Choi Han's eyes widened as he saw a distorted figure standing in front of you and your sister. They were a black silhouette of a man, their silhouette distorting with growing sharp edges standing out every second. Their voice was distorted and Choi Han struggled to find the connection as to why this particular memory of yours had everyone fading out like a shadow while your father and you stayed the same, this silhouette was so distorted that Choi Han's guards were up despite how he couldn't interact with the memories here. 

"But, Dad--" says your younger sister and it clicked to Choi Han that this distorted figure was your stepfather.

"I need her for something important. Only she could do it."

Even his voice sounded so displeasing like nails dragged against a board. You stood up to follow your stepfather into another room, and Choi Han saw your father beginning to exit the funeral home when he saw you walk away with your stepfather. Choi Han followed your father, bewildered that the memory was still showing up so clearly when it was clear you weren't supposed to know where your father went.

Choi Han followed after your father and he realized midway that this wasn't your memories but your father's. How can that be? Choi Han had assumed that he could see your memories because the vines that were penetrating your heart were connected to the one penetrating his - he could easily dismiss it as something magical of the sort as its explanation. But your father? Why was his memories here? 

He followed after your father's journey by car, sitting in the backseat as the man drove alone in silence, leaving you behind at the funeral home. He drove and drove and drove, for hours on end until he eventually ran out of gas. 

Choi Han stepped out of the car to follow your father as he ditched the car and began walking. There was a sense of eeriness at how quiet the man was, walking with dried tears on his face. Your father walked in a straight line for hours before he came across a forest.

Your father stopped by a lake, and so Choi Han did as well. From across the lake, Choi Han saw someone he was relieved and surprised to see.

"Cale-nim?" Choi Han called out.

Cale saw him and his eyes widened. "Choi Han? You're here, too?"

The two didn't have too much time to converse when your father walked into the lake without any hesitation. Both of them watched with wide eyes as the man attempted his life by drowning before the water let out a bright, purplish light and your father was gone in the blink of an eye.

"[Name]!"

Both Cale and Choi Han heard Rosalyn's shrill cry and the scenery changed immediately back to the halls of the funeral home, the space warping and distorting. They could see Rosalyn walking past the dull grey silhouettes and the two approached the rattled magician.

"Miss Rosalyn!" Cale called out.

"[Name], she's in there!" Rosalyn began to say, hurried and in panic as she ran to a door. "We need to get her out!"

Suddenly, the incoherent murmurs of the crowd within the area went silent and the three of them could hear your voice and your stepfather's crystal clear in the middle of all the warping of space and distortion.

"I'm... grateful you were there throughout everything."

"It's okay. I knew you loved my mother deeply."

"..."

"What are you doing...?"

"Has anyone told you that you're a very beautiful woman?"

"..."

"You look so much like her."

"Please, don't..."

"It's a compliment. Did I make you uncomfortable?"

"I-I think it's time I get back to my father."

"No, no. There's no need to rush. Your father already left earlier because I told him you'll be staying the night with your sisters."

"I never agreed to that. Please, let me go home."

"No, not until we do this."

"N- No, please--!"

A deafening sound filled their ears and bright light filled the room, blinding the three of them. Rosalyn's face was red with anger and sadness, eyes glossy with tears as she had come to a realization of what had happened behind that closed door.

When their vision came to, they were all staring up at a bright blue sky, laying on the mossy cobblestones, the holes on their chests all wrinkled up close. They all sat up immediately, seeing how the island was a complete disaster due to Cale's lightning bolt. The trees were on fire, embers falling like snow. The majestic tree that had been the manifestation of the ancient God's powers were struck, the trunk split down right in the middle, showing a dark hole filled with vines and sticks, pulsing and glowing with golden energy.

The ancient god, a giant lump of vines, sticks, and divinity was moving across the land like an octopus, your body on top of it as they carry you to the split trunk.

Cale recalled back the vision of your father drowning himself before being completely swallowed by the light. "I think I know who that beast is."

[koiiiji]

i was just hitted with this thought — none of lookism women had an happy life. one was sa in high school and threatened in cult in middle school. another was bullied bc of her weight (bonus it was her crush too) and struggled with death of her close friends. another one committed suicide but firstly was captured in cult. another one was killed when her life hadn’t even started and was sa before her death. another one was bullied bc he actually likes men (bruh they hate when we like them, they hate when we don’t like them), and ofc sa by the guy who had a crush on her, but bc of lack of emotional engagement and generally manners ofc was called whore for not liking him back. another one was left in poverty and was forced to raise ungrateful son(but at least there everything went a little bit better), another one were raised without her mum and even her shitty ass old man left her for….? still figuring out what for. another one married gangster, he was cheating on her, yet even after his death his crazy ass bastard, literal walking reminder that her husband was with other women, bursts into your life, threatening to kill her child, and also SO greedy that he even takes away a lighter. A FUCKING LIGHTER DAWG!!! and two mothers who actually lost their kids, shit is so sad that it is illegal how topic of mother’s love is unsolved.

yet im not even gonna say anything about yamazaki kind of shit that happened to gun’s mum and other women but shit is crazy.

the one that actually might seem happy is Jay sister, but even in this case will be some kind of bullshit im sure, bc we still have no idea what happened in Jay’s family and why he was rejected by his father. and something tells me that situation won’t be better than in average lookism family.

starring : mia -> miru -> vin’s mum -> soujin -> zoe -> daniel’s mum -> crystal -> minson -> jiho and eli gf’s mothers

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

Maeðros never intended to survive the "Fourth Kinslaying".

(I use quotations because I despise the definition of kinslaying in Tolkien, which is only ever used one way around, but I digress. Besides, that's not what this is about.)

TW: talk about suicide, suicidal intentions, Nelyo just being generally very unwell, that sort of stuff. This is definitely darker than my normal stuff.

I have a whole post here on how Maeðros has Ainu-related trauma, and that's a major reason why he refused to treat with Eönwë. I have another post here, also about Maeðros, to put things in perspective, about why he fell into despair and the "Nothing I do is going to work out anyway, go out with a bang" mentality.

If you don't feel like reading those, that's fine. I'll sum it up:

By the time the War of Wrath ended, Maeðros was completely disillusioned with everything. Despite doing everything he could to do things the right way, it never turned out right, and it culminated with the death of Fingon and, essentially, the destruction of the Noldor. He sent letters, and, at best, received no answer. Additionally, he's had a great deal of experience with Ainur, and most of it had either been bad from the beginning (Angband), or the positive had soured upon reflection (post-grandpa murder and Flight).

He was in an incredibly bad place mentally and spiritually. He didn't have any amdir left, let alone estel. I can't imagine he improved after Elrond and Elros left - regardless of what you think of their relationship, I think having them around would help him emotionally, at least a little.

So here's the sitch - Maeðros is down to one brother. He has no army. He has no sons hostages. He has no friends. He has no purpose other than to get the Silmarils or die trying.

(And dying isn't as terrifying a prospect as it had once been. Even Everlasting Darkness, whatever it was, had to be better than this. [He understood why Haruni Míriel ... left.])

Maeðros doesn't trust Eönwë. He's an Ainu, and Ainur lie - sometimes intentionally, and sometimes because they simply cannot keep their promises. An Ainu killed his grandfather and father. Ainur abandoned his people even before Alqualondë. Ainur killed his best friend.

At least Eönwë was upfront about his intentions to take Maeðros and his brother prisoner. As if Maeðros wouldn't kill Maglor himself to prevent that. As if Maeðros wouldn't raze Valinórë to the ground before letting the Valar so much as look at his last brother.

Maeðros is tired. He'a been tired since the Nírnaeth Arnoediad, but in the century since, it has grown to be nearly overwhelming. For a time, it lessened, and he actually took care of himself - not for his own benefit, or even for Maglor's, but for the boys, for who knew what horrific atrocities Maglor would expose them to and call it "food". But now they are gone, and what little he'd gained has already wasted away.

(Maglor worried and fretted like a mother hen over his elder brother's sunken cheeks and eyes that, despite the Treelight, were duller than an abused, iron blade.)

Maglor begs him to consider letting go of the Oath, and Maeðros can only pity him. His poor brother, still trusting that the Valar care, that Eru cares. That this will be the one good thing that actually pans out. That this is estel instead of amdir.

Maglor had always been close to the Valar, having studied in Valmar, and even marrying a Vanya. His trust in them had never truly shattered the way the rest of the family's had. (The hollowness in Tyelco's fëa after Huan abandoned him had nearly sent Maeðros after the mutt himself.) Maglor didn't know the Ainur as anything but their façade.

Maeðros has no intention of changing that.

He manipulates and threatens Maglor. He doesn't care - he literally can't. He doesn't plan on either of their survival, but the least they can do is go out trying one last time. Maybe that will be enough to save their family from the Void.

-----

Maeðros doesn't expect Eönwë to let them go. Maglor had to drag him away from the camp. From Arafinwë's disappointed face. From their boys staring at them in horror.

But opening the box and beholding the Silmarils almost makes the last six hundred years worth it. For the first time in centuries, Maeðros feels his father's soul.

Atya. Haru. Hányar. We did it. You can rest now.

-----

Pain beyond anything he's ever felt before.

-----

Maeðros hears a horn in the distance. He turns away.

-----

About half a millennia later, Elros drags his soul kicking and screaming to Mandos.

[wouldvelovedmewheniwassoft]

help keep a queer disabled system couple from breaking NC with my rapist ❤️‍🩹

(CW: parental abuse/familial trauma, death from cancer, alcoholism, domestic violence, homelessness, sui + hospitalization, incest/rape, victim-blaming, abandonment + gaslighting by a toxic friend, harassment involving police, disordered eating)

please don't tag my post. proof of situation provided in imgur album.

i've held off on publicly asking for help beforehand, as i know there are many people in more dire circumstances right now. but i'm at a point where it's absolutely necessary.

i moved out of state to live with my partner system (we both have DID) in March of this year. we already planned to live together, but circumstances forced me to escape and go NC (no contact) with my remaining family for my safety.

i lived in my childhood home for my whole life until this year. my parents and extended family have always been abusive, but things escalated after my mom passed from Stage 4 lung cancer. my father started deteriorating after her diagnosis in 2018, and since her death in 2022, our relationship is no longer salvageable.

his alcoholism worsened significantly, resulting in multiple instances of him driving home drunk, collapsing, and almost being charged with a DUI. he hasn't hit me since i was 13, but he's acted domestically violent by slamming and hitting things whenever i've angered him. he threatened me with homelessness twice for being suicidal (once after a four day hospitalization, once after an attempted overdose), knowing full well i had no resources at the time and would've ended up on the streets. i attempted to escape last year, but my paternal aunt purposefully sabotaged it, forcing me to stay in an unsafe situation and suffer quietly. my mother's family abandoned me in 2020, and they no longer accept me (specifically for being queer/trans, disabled, and a vocal leftist), so they wouldn't help even if i wanted to resume contact.

it took over a year to move out due to my father controlling every aspect of my life with the justification of me being disabled. i tried to get his blessing for me to move in with my partner; but he refused to let me leave him, and he made it clear his disapproval of my relationship was because he didn't want me to have any autonomy outside of him.

the breaking point came after three days of nonstop verbal and emotional/mental abuse from him over an argument he started; everything culminated in him raping me while i was incapacitated. both my best friend of three years and their partner offered for me to crash at their apartment while my partner planned to get me. they also escorted me to a sexual assault center in my state to get a rape kit done.

i burned nearly every bridge in the process, as the people who could help me sided with him. but i didn't anticipate my friends to abandon me, too. they spent my last three days with them coercing me into changing my escape plan and dismissing my visible distress at how doing so would jeopardize my safety. less than 12 hours before we left, my best friend abandoned me via text, saying they'd refuse to help me if i didn't get police involved. anything i said in response resulted in gaslighting from them, mainly using therapy speak of "boundaries" and "triggers" to justify their actions. i cut contact with them after my partner told me they planned to drop me from the start (they told my partner this in a phone call while i was out) and discovering a cruel vague post they made after i last texted them. the last time i ever reached out was to send them money to get through their own situation.

since then, my partner and i have struggled financially. they're currently one write-up away from being fired, and their supervisor has always been volatile, so confronting him or going to anyone else at their job will do nothing. they've gotten help from their grandparents, but they're similarly abusive and unaccepting of them for the same reasons, so it hurts them to beg them even if they're unable to go NC right now.

i'm unable to reapply for disability, and previously lucrative sources of passive income have currently dried up. i'm waiting for orientation to be scheduled so i can start my new job, but we've financially suffered in the meantime. my account was charged off, and i only just now paid off a month's worth of PayPal debt; most of the debt came from paying off medical bills after i was injured in late April (currently contemplating pursuing legal compensation but nothing's set in stone).

i had to break NC twice for my father to help, but it's been triggering both times. i had to block his number before due to him harassing me via call/text, and he made me talk to police twice by falsely reporting me missing.

i cannot risk breaking NC again if my future job falls through or my partner loses theirs. we both had to skip meals several times within the past month to keep from buying food, so it's gotten scary already.

anything you can send helps. if you're unable to, PLEASE share this wherever you can. i also do writing commissions, so DM me to know my rates and what i'm willing to write.

ca | pp | vm

imgur album

(edit 6/18/24: created a new imgur album link; had no idea why the first one was inaccessible, but hopefully this is better formatted and contains additional context)

[alissasrandomstuff]

Two Broken Souls

Alright, I've thought about this quite a while and I believe this is a situation which could actually happen. Billy is an asshole, yes, but he's also a broken boy. Maybe, if you somehow manage to peek beneath his bad boy-facade, you can see the real Billy Hargrove. Because I do somehow believe that there's something good inside him. English is not my first language, so please be kind and ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes! Word Count: 3.4k Content Warning: mentions of abuse and suicide, angst, mentions of alcoholism, language

Plot: After you and Billy accidentally discover how painfully similar your back stories are, you begin to warm up with each other. Both dealing with an abusive father, you start to seek comfort in each other, getting closer together than originally anticipated.

Billy was a broken boy. You always thought he was because of the way he acted towards everyone. He was an asshole, never treated anyone fairly, especially not women. So, you originally wanted to stay away from him, refusing to be one of his little toys. And it worked, he was never able to make a move on you. Until you got to know Max a lot better. You started hanging out with her, she was a great friend even if she was three years younger than you.

The first time you went to her house was when she wanted to attend the Snow Ball and asked you to make your hair. You were a little hesitant since it also meant you could meet Billy, but still, you decided to go and do this favor for Max. When you arrived at the house and got invited by Max’s mother, there was no sight of Billy. You talked with Max and had a great time while braiding her hair. She enjoyed spending time with you, was happy to finally have someone similar to the big sister she never had, and she admired how easy the way you braided her red hair looks. Still, she was a little insecure about this ball, and whether she should really go or not. You gently smiled at her and made sure that she realized how pretty she is. And really, Max looked adorable in her fit for the Snow Ball.

Just when you secured the last braid of Max’s hair, someone stepped into the hallway behind you, you can see it through the mirror. And when your eyes met Billy’s, it took you a lot of strength not to react. But instead of saying anything, his gaze just wandered to Max and back to you before he walked off silently, confusing you even more.

“The hell is wrong with Hargrove?” you muttered to yourself, but Max heard you.

“Taught him a lesson when he wanted to force me to come back here. I hope he finally respects me more,” she answered quietly and now you looked her in the eyes through the mirror, a little surprised.

“Taught him a lesson?” you asked and Max nodded, a hint of pride visible in her eyes.

“Yep, I nearly smashed his balls with a baseball bat, threatened to do it if he won’t leave me alone,” she explained as if it’s nothing and you couldn’t help but laugh at her braveness.

“You’re one of a kind, Max,” you laughed and gently rubbed her back, then gestured her that she’s finished.

“You can go and get your mom, you’ll have to leave soon to not be too late.”

Max got up, but looked at you a little sad.

“Why don’t you come with me? It would be more fun with you around,” she said, but you shook your head, declining gently.

“No no, I don’t like stuff like this. You go and have fun, it will be awesome, I know it,” you assured her and finally, she left to get her mother. You originally wanted to leave together with Max and her mother and then drive back home, but halfway out of the door, you realized you forgot your jacket. So, you said goodbye to the two women and walked inside the house again to look after your piece of clothes. Just when you found it, you could hear loud voices. You froze in your spot, easily recognizing one of the voices as Billy’s and the other one you believed was from his father. You hesitated, not meaning to invade their privacy, but from what you could hear the two say and the volume they argued at, you were a bit worried. So, you silently walked up the stairs of the house towards where you believed the argument was located. Right when you step into the doorframe of Billy’s room, you froze on the spot. You were greeted by a scene of violence, Billy’s father Neil grabbing Billy’s arm tightly and slapping him across the face, scolding the boy for how he apparently misbehaved a few minutes ago downstairs. When you saw Neil hitting his son, instant flashbacks flooded you and you couldn’t help but just stare. Billy was the first to spot you, and his eyes widened. Neil also looked over his shoulder and realized that you saw his punishment on Billy, instantly letting go of him.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Neil asked infuriated, and you slowly came back to reality, looking at Neil shocked.

“I think the better question is, what on earth are you doing with Billy?!” you asked instead of answering, making Neil even more angry with this.

“It’s none of your business how I educate my son,” he wanted to divert attention from the scenery you all are in, and you shook your head disbelievingly.

“Wha- educate? What you’re doing to him has fucking nothing to do with education!” you blurted out, anger now visible in your own eyes. Neil raised a finger at you, as if he wanted to threaten you as well.

“Watch the way you’re talking to me, child. Show me some goddamn respect!”

You laughed out, shaking your head at his audacity.

“To people like you that are abusing their children? Oh, I talk to you the way I fucking want to, you don’t deserve any kind of respect from me!” you spat right back at him and could see from the look in his eyes that he really wanted to teach you a lesson there, too. But he couldn’t do that. If he would have, he’d be in real trouble, and he knew. That’s why he stayed silent and just looked at you furious.

“I’ll handle it, sir. Let me handle this,” Billy intervened and walked towards you, eventually guiding you outside and to your car.

“Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you myself,” was what he said back then, and you never thought that incident would actually bring you two closer together. But from that day on, yours and Billy’s looks had crossed several times throughout the day, and you knew he was making sure that you kept your mouth shut. You did, you never told anyone, not even Max. And after a while, Billy slowly began to ease at your knowledge, somehow trusting you with the information you had. He nodded at you when you met in the hallways at school or when you saw each other at the parking lot, and you always just nodded back, it almost became a habit of the two of you. But that was it, nothing else happened.

Until he found out about your family, as well. It was by accident, he was on his way to a date and drove past your house, not even realizing it at first. But then, he saw your car outside, and you together with your father. You were screaming at your old man, furious about how drunk he was again already, when that man grabbed you by the hair and pulled you inside your house. Billy instantly took a turn and stopped at your house, going inside and saving you from a beating of your father. He refused to leave you alone, took you with him in his Camaro to a spot a little outside of Hawkins, and there, you told him everything. How your mother died by suicide, how your father abused not only you but used to do it with your mother as well, how drunk your father always was. And how you always tried to act like it didn’t bother you at all. You always tried to keep a steady composure, act like you’re perfectly fine. And until that day, nobody knew that you had to deal with shit like this. Billy admired you and the way you handled everything, but on the other side, he was irritated at how differently you reacted to him. You both had the same problems, yet he became the biggest jerk at school, a big asshole, while you always kept being the pure girl you are. The pure, sweet and kind girl he got to know. And now he found out about your cruel backstory, and he felt bad. Safe to say, after what he just found out, Billy never made it to that date.

After that day, you really started to feel a connection with Billy. You didn’t want to admit it, but the abusive nature of both your fathers was what brought you together. You both sought some weird way of comfort in the fact that the two of you now had someone who understood you, even if you never really talked about it. Billy hesitantly opened up to you too, about his father and a little bit about his mother as well. It wasn’t a lot, Billy is not good with talking about feelings, but still, you felt a little proud that he trusted you enough by now to talk about his family issues. It was a late summer day then, you both were the last ones to leave the school after he had his basketball practice and you after staying longer to finish a school project. It happened that you both parked your cars directly next to each other, and after just some small talk, he opened up a little. He didn’t talk about it much, but that was okay for you, you were just happy that he chose you as the person to talk to. Nobody else knows anything about this part in his life, it always made you kind of special. You had something nobody else ever had before, and it made you a little proud. It made you stand out, for both Billy and the rest.

The first real change in his behavior you noticed was how Billy started avoiding being violent when you were around. You first realized it when, in school, Billy was in a heated argument with Jason about something you didn’t even know, and a crowd was watching the two men. When you stepped into the circle, however, and Billy realized, he decided to let Jason go and not beat him up. You didn’t think too much of it, but it happened more than once. And eventually, he stopped provoking fights completely. He still was the heated Billy Hargrove the whole school knew by then, he still was this cocky jerk who thought was ‘the king’. But he wasn’t physically violent anymore, not that you knew. You heard of a few fights, but those were always because someone else started it and Billy only defended himself. Billy tried to keep this kind of violence away from you, keep these ’news’ about a fight away from you. He somehow didn’t want you to think about him as a violent teenager with anger issues, he slowly started caring about your opinion. He wanted you to not think bad of him anymore. And when he realized this, he was irritated at first, but kind of accepted it at last. He kept these thoughts to himself, however.

Then he stopped complaining about you hanging out with Max at their house, he instead started greeting you there, too. He slowly warmed up with the fact to see you around this often. He started feeling at ease whenever he saw you in their house, whenever he heard your voice, your laugh from either the living room or Max’s room. He stopped commenting on how ‘weird’ it was to hang out with a girl that much younger than you. He admitted to himself, by then he was kind of happy that you and Max got along that well. He was able to see you sometimes daily, after school as well. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him, because normally, girls his age didn’t ever spend that much time around him. Especially without him making a move on them. Especially when he was attracted to them. And he was attracted to you, he knew that for a while already.

He eventually stopped flirting with every girl he saw at school, his flirty actions became more and more rare. It looked like the only girl he really payed attention to was you, still always nodding at you when he saw you, looking at you whenever he could. Everyone at school noticed, the girls weren’t too thrilled about Billy seemingly settling on one girl and that it wasn’t them. The boy were irritated, surprised about how Billy wasn’t interested in flirting with every female around him anymore. He tried to, at first, he tried to get his mind off of you by spending even more time with other girls, but he never entirely stopped thinking about you. And because he finally realized it was useless, he stopped hanging out with all these girls, stopped going on dates, stopped fooling around. It was foreign for him, only thinking about one girl and being this occupied with her, yet, he slowly warmed up to that fact as well. Still keeping his thoughts to himself. You noticed all this, you noticed the changes in Billy’s behavior. But you didn’t allow yourself to think that is was possibly because of you. Nobody could make Billy Hargrove change, no girl was able to twist his mind that much, and especially, if nothing ever happened physically between the two of you. You weren’t unpopular or ugly, but there were other girls at school far more attractive and popular, so why would it be you, out of all of them? You simply refused to think that Billy got interested in you, that he wanted to change because of you. When, in fact, you were his entire reason.

Then, he slowly started to actually talk to you when you were at their house, in the kitchen for example. He would occasionally ask about your day, try his best to cautiously ask about your father and if he did something. And when he found out that you’re actually interested in the same type of music as him, you two started talking a lot about this. It almost became natural to talk to him when you were visiting them, you finally started to feel comfortable around Billy. You enjoyed your little talks when bumping into him at their house, smiled at him every now and then, and finally, Billy got comfortable enough to smile at you genuinely as well, not with his typical flirty smirk. Max noticed very quickly that you and Billy got along with each other, and at first, she was hesitant, even warned you about him. But the more time went by, the more she realized that her step-brother actually started changing. She saw the way Billy looked at you, the way he treated you. She saw how he stopped bringing girls home, how his cocky behavior slowly faded around you and was replaced by a more natural, softer version of Billy. And she saw how he acted when you were around, it was obvious that he wanted you to think good of him. Max didn’t want to believe it, but at some point, it was painfully obvious for her: Billy Hargrove, the guy whose cold heart no girl was able to win over, fell for her best friend. He caught feelings for you.

And then finally, he asked you to hang out privately, just the two of you. It wasn’t initially labeled as a ‘date’, but in secret, you both kind of hoped that it was one. He picked you up after school and you drove to Lover’s Lake, spending the day there together. And you actually had a great time. Nothing happened, you just hung out together and talked a lot, you even shared a few laughs together. It was nice seeing Billy laugh in an authentic way, not his typical ‘bad boy laugh’ to impress ladies, his real laugh made him look genuine and pure, you enjoyed seeing him like this. At that point, you couldn’t help yourself anymore, you liked the new Billy. You liked the Billy he was around you, the Billy he showed to you. You liked how he changed, and you really hoped he did it for you. At school, he still somewhat was the old Billy Hargrove, but when you were around, he got softer, even at school. When his friends started noticing, Billy was quick to teach them not to make fun of it, but still, he always kept it calm around you. It was obvious for the whole school, for everyone but the two of you.

You hung out quite often after you first ‘date’, Billy even started talking to you openly at school. He behaved differently towards you, like an actual decent guy, not like the old, bad Billy Hargrove he always pretended to be. You didn’t even care about all rumors or mean words about you, you were just happy that Billy finally seemed to heal a little. You enjoyed that he finally openly talked to you and felt comfortable enough to show it to the people at school. Every day, when he met you at your locker and talked to you, you felt happy. You didn’t mean to, but at some point, you had to admit to yourself that you liked him. Liked him a lot more than you intended to in the first place.

Your first kiss was when you really decided to stick together. It was when you found him after another argument with Neil, leaning on the hood of his Camaro in front of their house, smoking a cigarette while trying to regain his composure. You instantly knew what happened, it wasn’t the first time you saw Billy like this. You originally wanted to come over to get something you forgot there the day before, but when you saw Billy outside, you didn’t care about that stupid hat anymore. You went up to Billy, and when he heard your footsteps, he looked over his shoulder, expecting you to be either Susan or Max. But when he saw you, he relaxed. Since you already saw him at his worst, he didn’t really care anymore, he just looked at you, tears in his eyes. You knew what to do, especially since that day sought to be a worse one than others. So, you gently took the cigarette from him and instead, just hugged him. Hugs never happened often between you two, but you knew he just needed it in that moment. And yes, he instantly hugged you back, leaning into you and breathing heavily to not give in to his emotions. You whispered soft words, calming him by gently running your fingers through his hair and you waited for him to calm down again. Moments like these rarely happened, normally, Billy still was the confident boy you got to know, Billy knew how to stay upright even after a fight with his father. But that day, he just needed comfort, that day he wasn’t strong enough. And even if moments like these were extremely rare, you gladly helped him. When Billy finally leaned back again and looked you in the eyes, you could see how hard he was trying to hold back the tears. You didn’t even think about it anymore, you just put your hands on his cheeks and gently brushed your thumbs over his soft skin. He stared right back at you, and after a short moment of just exchanging looks, you finally leaned in and placed your lips on his. Yes, you were the one that kissed him first. A few months before only, you swore to yourself to not let Billy get close to you, and now you were there, breaking your own pledge by kissing him and allowing him to get closer than you ever anticipated. But it felt good, Billy felt good for you. He immediately kissed you back, softly and with much more emotion than you expected, keeping you close to him. Billy broke the kiss first, looking at you with surprisingly much affection and gratitude, he even smiled gently at you. It was a genuine smile, he was completely honest with his emotions in that situation.

“Thank you,” he whispered only, and you just nodded with a small smile on your lips. Months ago, you would’ve scolded yourself now for your weakness, but Billy changed. He changed and now you think it’s worth a shot, you wanted to help him.

Billy may be a broken boy. But you’re broken, too, you both share the same story. You and him are two broken souls.

And two broken souls can heal each other, can become one complete soul.

[pepsichrry]

Theo Nott Headcannons/Information

Information:

•Theo was mentioned in the Harry Potter books (The Philosopher’s Stone, Order of the Phoenix).

•He is only referred to as ‘Nott’ during the sorting ceremony in book 1.

•He isn’t mentioned until book 5 as one of the only three students in the Care of Magical Creatures class who are able to see Thestrals, meaning that he had witnessed somebody die. He supposedly found it unpleasant as he watched one eat and he wasn’t fond of the creatures.

•His appearances in the books are described as ‘weedy’ and ‘stringy’ meaning that he is likely canonically tall and thinly built.

•It is unclear when he is born, but it is said that his father was an older or elderly man who had been previously involved with the Deatheater Army during the First Wizarding War.

•Theodore was mentioned by Hermione in 1996 as one of the group of Slytherin boys whose fathers had been outed as Deatheaters by the magazine ‘The Quibbler’. His reaction seemed to differ from his friends as his reaction was the only one which was not specifically threatening or negative, suggesting indifference.

•At the end of his Fifth Year, Theodore Nott Sr. was captured in the Department of Mysteries as a member of Deatheater forces who participated in a raid of the Department and was exposed as an escaped Deatheater.

•With his father in Azkaban and his mother seemingly dead, it is unspecified who cared for Theodore during the summer holidays.

•In sixth year, Theodore was not asked to attend the Slug Club due to his fathers involvement with the Dark Lord, this is because of Professor Slughorns inquiry about Theo’s family from Blaine Zabini, who was later invited to the Club.

•Theodore was one of the few students who progressed to N.E.W.T level Potions. They seemed to poke fun of Hermiones Blood-Status and were skeptical of the effects of Amorentia.

•He attended his Seventh year at Hogwarts and was treated well due to his Blood Status.

•At the Battle of Hogwarts, it is unclear whether he joined Voldemorts side or Evacuated, but since he is not shown or mentioned defecting to the Deatheaters before the Battle, we can assume that he didn’t end up fighting with the Deatheaters.

•It is also mentioned that he was later taken into custody for owning illegal Timeturners. We can infer from this that he could possibly have made them with dark magic, or he bought them for a hefty price. (Said in TCC, so possibly not Canon).

•Theo is mentioned to be very intelligent, but more of a Loner, since he didn’t participate in many groups like the one led by Draco Malfoy.

Headcannons:

•Theodore watched his mother die when he was young, leaving him in the sole care of his father, who was a cold and bitter man.

•Theo didn’t have many friends when he was younger except for Draco Malfoy, but he opened up slightly more at Hogwarts, though he still liked his alone time.

•He had a set path for him created by his father. He was supposed to work in the ministry and provide for a family, but Theo wanted to be a Potioneer like his uncle and much of his other family on his mother’s side.

•Theo’s mother left all of her belongings to him, and made sure that his father wouldn’t be able to take possession of any of it. In his inheritance, he gained a large portion of money and an estate in rural Italy.

•His mother was from Florence, Italy and was married to his father through an arranged marriage, where she suffered abuse from Theodore Nott Sr. She died slowly due to a failed suicide attempt.

•Theodore had trouble connecting with people because of his parent’s relationship and the things that he’d witnessed in his childhood. He feared becoming his father more than anything, so he did all that he could to prevent it from happening.

•He’d never had a real relationship and never would despite how many girls he’d slept with. He didn’t want a commitment.

•Despite how quiet he was, Theo was a very funny person and to his friends, he was often the life of the party

•Theo was prone to addiction and often used unhealthy coping mechanisms like smoking, drinking and drug use, though he only took drugs at parties.

•Much like Draco, Theo took the Dark Mark as a punishment for his father’s mistakes, not out of willingness. He received it a week after his fifteenth birthday and struggled to adjust.

•He was 6’2” feet tall

•He tanned very nicely in the summer, leaving him with smooth, olive skin just like his mother’s.

•During the Battle of Hogwarts, Theo ran away with Blaise Zabini, purely because he wanted to avoid fighting people that he’d previously called friends.

•As his life went on, Theo learned from his mistakes and prejudices and slowly but surely became a better person. He was clean by the time he was 20.

•As a request from the Dark Lord, Theo created a Timeturner for him. But since he’d learned how to do it, he created more and gifted one to the Malfoy Family and kept one for himself. He didn’t use it to change the past, but he’d travel back to his old house to watch his past, specifically, to watch his mother, trying to piece together parts of her life and his. It was the only way of truly knowing and remembering her because he was so young when she died.

•Theo died before he turned 30, ending the Nott family line. He’d died alone after taking his own life to avoid being sent to Azkaban for his possession of illegal Timeturners.

•He lived a life of longing for love without receiving it. Secretly, he wished for a loving relationship and a family, but he didn’t want to repeat the cycle of abuse that he was trapped in. He felt that his family line didn’t deserve to be continued, he felt that he was atoning for their sins by ending it.

[selenestarmoon]

Honestly, the people who say Ryan is irredeemable are the same people who said the League of Villains from My Hero Academia were evil because of circumstances beyond their control and because they didn't react in an "acceptable" way to their traumas.

All the members of The League ended up being villains because of the injustices and dehumanization by everyone, because they were born with quirks they didn't ask for and also because of the unhealthy expectations that were imposed on them within their respective families and that they didn't receive any help: literally all of them hate themselves and see themselves as monsters that hurt people because everyone else is constantly telling them that they are monsters to the point that they genuinely came to believe that the only option they had was to die because they believed that otherwise they would be in prison all their lives and would have no future. And that is exactly what is happening with Ryan.

You have to remember that Ryan is a 12-YEAR-OLD BOY whose biological father spends very little time with him and the few times they spend time together that father ends up ruining those moments, he accidentally killed his mother because he couldn't control his powers and his other father figure loves him but at the same time he's testing if Ryan is trustworthy. Also, Ryan has horrible things revealed about his biological father and on top of that he is asked to kill that biological father who is the only living relative left to him and who has powers like him and on top of that he was threatened with sedation and locking him up, it was obvious that Ryan was not going to react well, that's too much for a kid to process.

Everyone sees Ryan as an object, and even Butcher and Homelander who genuinely love Ryan also dehumanize him; Butcher sees him as a weapon that can defeat Homelander, Homelander treats Ryan as his possession and can't stand anyone else having his son's attention.

And what about the little smile that Ryan lets out after seeing how the crowd cheered Homelander after seeing him kill someone? Like I said, Ryan is a kid and kids are blank slates and if the kid witnesses violence being perceived as something positive obviously the child will think that it is good to be violent. It's like when in Berserk, Farnese participated in a burning of heretics and burned people when she was a kid and instead of being told that what she did was wrong, people cheered her on which made Farnese internalize that burning people was something good.

And despite that, Ryan is still HORRIFIED by the idea of killing people. When he accidentally killed both Becca and Koy, Ryan felt horrible about it, he clearly doesn't want to kill Homelander or anyone else and the reason he doesn't react to Grace's death is because he was in a situation of high stress so he couldn't process what he did to Grace. Everyone is horrified by Ryan's accidental deaths but no one teaches him how to use and control his powers nor does anyone help him deal with guilt in a healthy way and the only person who does all this is Homelander but he does it in the worst way possible.

If everyone keeps treating Ryan in a dehumanizing way he will end up in two ways: either he becomes like Homelander or he decides to commit suicide to redeem himself because he believes he is a monster who hurts others and has no future.

All Ryan wants is to have a family and live like a normal boy his age and, honestly, I feel pity for him.

[lundenloves]

⚠︎ trigger warning implied suicide | 650 words

simon ‘ghost’ riley

- my asks are always open. i promise you, you’re not alone.

You found him at seven in the morning.

Unusually beside you in bed — for his schedule habitually began hours prior — with limp arms, one draped across his chest and the other flat on the bed. He was still warm, though his anxious heart rate seemed to have stilled, and his chest calmed, finally at rest it seemed.

Though, it wasn’t until you pressed your ear to his neck had the world crumbled right there and then.

“What the fuck.” Came naturally, the art of shock pushing over you in undignified waves. “Simon? What the fuck?” Hair was pushed behind your ears, sitting up in the bed and onto your knees, hand on his chest, nothing. “Simon.” A tone of aggravation and a frown, ear to his chin in an attempt to identify a breathing pattern, but again, nothing.

Your delayed response in picking up a phone was primal. Eyes wide, hands shaking and leaning closer once again to find any sign of life. The phone fumbled from your grip, falling to the floor with a thud that was sure to stir the kids. “Shit.” It was spoken quietly, weakly, voice strained from the pending upset.

And the next few hours were a mess.

The kids were frantically pushed from their beds, all three picture images of their father with his dimples either side of sleepy smiles.

You had run your thumb over each of them, covering blotchy red cheeks to save the oldest from questioning why. School uniform was left astrew across bedroom floors from the day prior, an image of rush frozen in time — bags half open and emptied across the room with unmade beds and hair filled brushes half off dressers.

You broke down at your mothers house.

Streams of tears spent on the step, a motherly embrace stripping you of all adulthood and curling into your mothers’ frame like an infant.

A soothing hand rubbed at your back as tears were no longer solo but shared between you. Your mother knew no one who deserved this less than her own daughter, than her grandchildren and the life they were now deprived of.

Over time it became a list of tasks to check off.

A list of grievance, organisation, funeral choices and difficult phone calls to make. 141 was the worst — bar your own children — that was one of the worst phone calls to date and probably ever you would have to make.

Price was first. You had phoned him from the garden, pacing around the cut grass with one of Simon’s cigarettes. He answered with your name firmly, his usual tone indicating he was at work.

Phone likely stuck between his shoulder and ear as he penned down information regarding current, past and future deployments. You could pretty much see it.

“Hi.” It was short, brief and quiet. Three things you were not. John audibly leant back in his chair, the creak giving way for his muscle, you imagined him putting the pen down and shifting the phone to his hand.

“Everything alright?” His brows furrowed, eyes locking to unspecific objects around his office.

You blinked lamely, tipping the cigarette before taking a short draw. The silence prodded Price to speak your name once more, his tone softening substantially and your jaw tightened in attempts to force back any upset that was threatening to fall.

“Where are you?” You asked half heartedly, vision blurring as the cigarette was lost to the grass in frustration covered despair.

There was a brief pause of quiet before Price had said anything. “Base. What’s going on?”

And you met his beat, pausing for a second or five longer, rubbing at your brow before collapsing onto the back step. “Simon.” It was a breath at best, clearing your throat before trying again. “Simon, he’s, I— I found him, and it’s not— he’s away, he’s gone.”

“He’s gone?”

“He’s fucking dead. He’s dead, John.”

no taglist for this one troops, figured i’d let people find it themselves.

it’s just a scrap but i thought i’d post it anyway

[aria-ashryver]

Meet my OC - Viktor Ivanov

Name: Viktor Ivanov Book: Immortal Desires Orientation: Bisexual Pronouns: He/him Birthday: 12th October 1997 Sign: Libra Born: Dunedin, New Zealand Raised: Sydney, Australia, and Inverness, Scotland (with some short stints in both NZ and Croatia) Heritage: Croat

More under the cut! 🖤✨

Family

Henrik Ivanov (younger brother) Mother (name tbd) Father (name tbd)

Viktor’s closest family member is his younger brother Henrik (Henri, as a diminutive), who is eight. Henri attends boarding school, so they do not see each other much, but Henri idolises his big brother and Viktor would do anything to keep Henri from being hurt. He believes his parents treat Henri as the “do-over” child, and that they think Viktor “lacks ambition” and “refuses to take anything seriously”. There is a lot of pressure on Henri to perform well academically and to follow in his father’s footsteps, career-wise.

Viktor’s father’s career remains something of a mystery to him — he knows it is a somewhat high-ranking governmental position that requires him to travel a lot, so his father is only home for short stints every few months. When he was around 12 or 13, Viktor decided he would ask his dad outright what his job actually was the next time he showed an interest in one of Viktor’s hobbies or interests.

To this day, Viktor has no idea what his father does for a living.

His mother is a stay-at-home housewife. She is the family member Viktor sees the most often, and also the one he has the worst relationship with.

Skills / Hobbies

Sketching, painting, singing — frontman and founder of grunge/rock band Your Bisexual Awakening. Also plays bass

YBA cycles through names often, all of which have a story attached. They choose a new name via the following system: if a band member says something stupid or memorable in conversation, and two or more members simultaneously say "band name", they must change it to whatever was just said. I.e.

Cal: seriously, guys? again? Ava: my bad. Angel's refractory period is more like a Refractory Comma Angel, Viktor, and Luca, simultaneously: band name Ava: aw, fuck.

Random Trivia

Moved a lot as a child — growing up jumping between Scotland, Australia, New Zealand, and Croatia has left Viktor with the weirdest accent. Its mostly Scottish... ish? Kinda?

Enjoys anime — once described watching Tokyo Ghoul as the purest spiritual experience of his life (and then sulked inconsolably for a week when he found out the final season was copaganda)

Scared of dogs (was bitten when he was younger)

Loves having his photo taken, but also can’t look at photos of himself sometimes, because they often bring on depersonalisation episodes

Huge collection of slogan t-shirts he crops and alters himself.

Can do overtone / polyphonic singing (but not well)

When he shared a dorm room with Luca at Avalon, for a while his alarm was this Marc Rebillet song (until Luca threatened to beat him to death with a pair of socks unless he changed it)

Has a crush on Kylo Ren

Is deeply ashamed of his crush on Kylo Ren

Favourite movie is Sucker Punch (will rant AT LENGTH about how people completely miss the feminist read)

His fashion sense is varied and questionable. One day he’ll be in gritty, black techwear, the next he’s full flower-boy poet. Then he’ll be Grandma-chic, and the next day he might be wearing a three-piece suit patterned exclusively with cobs of corn.

He does really love garments that drape and flow, though, and is a bit of a sucker for glitter and fun textures. No matter how loud, he somehow manages to always wear the outfits, and not have them wear him.

Viktor’s goals are informed by an odd mix of wanting a sense of agency and independence, while also just wanting to be taken care of and not have to think

Pathetic Babygirl of All Time

Personal Life

cw!! for talk around mental illness, suicide, and substance abuse

Viktor’s childhood was extremely difficult in that his mother simply does not believe that mental illnesses and neurologic disorders are legitimate conditions, and denies that Viktor’s many conditions are real. She believes he is making everything up for attention. Viktor has had this rhetoric drilled into him since childhood — there is nothing wrong with him, he’s just weak, lazy, a failure, a troubled child.

As such, he has never been diagnosed with anything on record.

He is quite mistrustful of authority figures as a result of his upbringing.

The first real, healthy parental influence in his life was Terri O’Rinn. She was the one to refer Viktor to a specialist doctor — she called in a favour from a friend/colleague, who was able to confirm Viktor’s diagnosis of mild to moderate Tourette Syndrome. This diagnosis remains strictly off-record. He primarily has motor tics, but he does have some verbal ones too — many of his tics are indistinguishable from the way he carries himself and his usual, somewhat eccentric mannerisms of speaking and moving.

Viktor also suffers from depression and generalised anxiety disorder. Luca has “diagnosed” him with “ADHD by peer review.” Viktor also deals with frequent bouts of passive suicidal ideation. Luca has had to talk him down on two separate occasions when he has threatened attempts. He has attempted once, on his own, and has never told anyone about it. Viktor loves Luca like a brother, as they do him, and their bond is fundamentally unshakeable.

Viktor fell into performing initially as a means to cope with his Tourettes — music helps to help him feel in control of his symptoms, so he can often be found singing, humming, or whistling to himself as he goes about his business. Alcohol and weed incidentally dial back his premonitory urges as well, allowing him to more easily suppress his tics, so there have been patterns of substance abuse throughout Viktor’s life when he’s been in a bad place mentally.

In classes at school, he was something of the class clown — Viktor quickly realised he liked dictating the kind of attention that was on him (and that he actually really loves attention when its the kind he has sought out himself). So rather than people staring at him because of his tics, he’d rather enrapture them on purpose with beautiful and hypnotic performances. Leaning into his role as the band’s vocalist and frontman did wonders for his self-confidence and overall quality of life.

Also — he’s just really, really, good at singing 🖤🖤🖤

You can find out more about Viktor via my masterlist, or read about him in my longfic, snow in crimson, starlight in gold on AO3! 🖤(direct link, fic is rated Explicit)

tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations

[stylespresleyhearted]

wish upon a star, to follow where you are

(not my gif, credit to creator)

masterlist can be found here.

summary: buck without bucky.

notes: this popped into my head today while working on my benny fic and majors wife two. i had to get it out because it was pounding for freedom. the formatting is a bit weird and any dialogue is written in italics. the love john egan and gale cleven had for one another exceeded any bounds and i wanted to add to that because i find the stories people write of them beautiful. P.S i don’t think bucky and rosie had anything against each other but at the sag panel callum and nate touched on how maybe rosie didn’t particularly care for egan so i wanted to dip my toe into it a bit. ask box is always open if anyone wants to chat mota, callum, austin or my wips.

warnings: minor contemplation of suicide, mourning, depression, major character death, platonic! clegan (squint and you can read between the lines.)

word count: 4.5k

-

It’s Sunday nine a.m, Gale’s eyes have only opened and he’s tired. He’s going to be tired forever.

His eyelids droop, threatening to pull him under but he knows it isn’t an option. The air smells of cinnamon and bacon; the cackling of the sizzling pans are what drew him from his slumber. Sleep wasn’t what he was doing though. It was more of a coma, eyes closed and unable to move an inch of his body but his mind and body awake. Able to hear everything. Able to feel everything still no matter how hard he’s been trying to run from it.

The closet door is swung open. His freshly ironed work suit hanging, waiting.

Responsibilities. Gale has responsibilities and he always vowed to be better than what he had so he has to get up.

His kids deserve better. His wife deserves better.

So he does better; he sits up, rubbing the exhaustion and pain from his eyes. There’s twelve hours left of his day, 720 minutes, 36 seconds before he’s going to have to do it all over again.

There are eight steps between him and his suit. Once it’s on, he has responsibilities to attend to. He has kids to raise. A wife to keep happy and show her how grateful he is to have her. Because he is, truly he is, but being grateful didn’t take away any of the bitterness of everything that has been taken away.

The thought of those things has his throat constricting, aching, yearning to yell and to release the pain.

Men don’t cry, his dad had told him.

Gale had seen men cry many times. Men braver and manlier than his father who served this country and were ripped apart and spit back into society with no guide on how to adapt or to stay alive and learning to adjust to civilian life made Germany and that damn prison camp appear inviting. At least all the soldiers in that camp understood and accepted one another. No judgements were cast.

Bucky would be in that camp.

Gale adjusts, shoving himself back underneath his mountain of covers.

His responsibilities would be there tomorrow.

The suit continues hanging.

-

Monday comes and he does better.

The suit no longer hangs on the door, instead it clings to his body — slim like it had been in the Stalag only this time he isn’t being refused food; he is refusing the food.

It’s the first day of school for his oldest and she clutches his hand all the way to the classroom door, chatting about the plans she has for the day and all the friends she wants to make. She reminds him of someone he knows - someone he knew. It burns his chest to think about a young boy being walked to his class by his single mother, having recently lost his father, and finding it within himself to be the loudest and the funniest and the brightest for the benefit of others.

Gale begs the world to be kind to his little girl. Begs it to keep the peace and prohibit war and keep her safe and rid itself of any pain

He thinks he does a good job smiling at her and keeping her engaged. He amuses all her chatting and assures her that her confidence will be her reality. He refuses to accept anything else. At some point the universe would have to bend for him just a little wouldn’t it?

I’ve tried to be brave. You have taken what I love most. Keep my girls healthy and happy.

All his energy is exerted at school drop off apparently. He gets to work but only lasts close to four hours. The creaking in his chair leads to a headache, his suit rubs against his skin and creates an itch, the sun comes out and shines to bright, time continues on and nobody stops.

The funeral was two weeks ago so people still have sympathy to give. His superior claps him on the shoulder, his peers offer their condolences once more, and then he’s on his way home.

He kept his daughter smiling today and that’s enough for him. Who cares if he wasn’t able to complete eight hours? He was a father before he was anything and he had succeeded today so it had to be enough.

Bucky made him feel enough always.

Gale goes home, dresses for bed, and closes his eyes.

-

His wife gentles him into consiousness. She pets his hair back and whispers his name. She’s smiling at him when he opens his eyes.

His daughter’s back from school and wants to tell him all about her first day, his wife informs him.

Gale nods, promising to join them soon.

She’s smiling but he sees the worry pulling her eyes down, the quivering in her chin as she attempts to maintain her smile.

He didn’t do enough today.

Gale joins his wife and their daughter in the kitchen where she’s biting into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She squeals when she sees him, jumping into his arms when he’s close enough.

He stumbles with her weight. When was the last time he’d eaten?

Daddy, she giggles, why are you in your jammies?

He isn’t sure what to say. Because Uncle Bucky died and I’m alone, isn’t appropriate.

Died. Bucky was dead. Gale hadn’t thought about it before.

The ache in his throat and the burning in his chest return. His heart breaks.

Daddy’s being silly, his wife cuts in to save him.

She takes their daughter from his arms. She probably noticed how he began to sway on his feet.

Gale has to be enough.

He puts a cap on it. Shuts it away where it doesn’t threaten to drown him.

How was school, sweetie, he asks.

His daughter beams at having his attention.

Gale remembers someone who did the same.

-

It’s Tuesday and Rosie won’t stop calling.

His wife is out with her girls, their oldest is at school and their youngest is with her grandmother. Gale is wearing a suit because he went to work again only this time he never managed to make it inside so he drove home after an hour.

The phone was ringing when he arrived and he answered afraid, thinking an accident occurred at school.

Major Cleven, he recognized the voice immediately. Us boys been tryin’ real hard to get ahold of you. Benny said, he, uh - well, we all miss John, sir.

Gale hung up the phone.

Rosie was a good man. A good, brave man who had taken the reins and kept their boys in high spirits and kept them safe when Buck and Bucky went down. Rosie looked out for Crosby after he’d lost all his boys. Rosie flew rescue missions with Buck and they talked about the beauty of peace after the horrendous events of war. Flowers now bloomed where bodies had laid rotting.

Rosie was a good man and Gale respected him, but Rosie never liked Bucky. It was nothing malicious or vindictive. Bucky was an all or nothing type of guy and he wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Gale knows that. Bucky was either cracking jokes or lending a shoulder. Drinking back a whiskey or chatting up a pretty dame. He was either singing or he was dead.

If he wasn’t singing he was dead.

So Gale respects Rosie and he may have love for Rosie but Rosie didn’t like Bucky and Gale doesn’t want to talk to him.

-

He leaves the house when his wife said she would be back. He walks to an old farm he remembers from when he was young. He pets the horses.

He gets home at six p.m when work is supposed to be over and dinner is ready.

Oh honey you just missed Rosie! He rang, his wife says.

Gale nods his head. I’ll be sure to call him back.

He takes his seat at the head of the table.

How was work, his wife asks.

Just fine, honey, he says, how was your day?

-

It’s Wednesday and Gale holds his baby.

He tells his wife he’s going to stay home today. There’s no need to take their baby anywhere.

Their baby is eight months old and she started teething. She’s a gurgling, content ball of milk fat flesh in his skinny arms.

It’s okay, he tells her. Daddy’s gotchu.

She grins at him, releasing spit that he wipes off her chin. It’s his favorite thing in the world to sniff the inside of her neck: momma’s milk and spit and the fresh baby smell that’s been waning off as she gets bigger.

She’s content in his arms until she isn’t. He keeps his finger in her mouth in an attempt to soothe the ache and the itch in her gums even after his finger begins to burn and the indent of her incoming tooth scratches at his sensitive skin.

He tries to feed her and she cries.

He holds her and she cries.

He hands her toys and she throws them and she cries.

All she can do is cry and Gale understands. There’s no ache in his gums but there’s one lodged deep in his chest that refuses to go away and he understands.

You cry it out, he tells his baby. Daddy will stay with you.

Gale fixes them on the couch, her tucked in tight between the cushion and his chest. She clutches his hand in her tiny ones and moves his finger back in her mouth.

She stops crying and for Gale it’s more than enough.

He’s not sure how long it’s been but they must have fallen asleep together because the shutting of the door and tiny, stomping footsteps wake him.

He calls his oldest daughter over but she huffs in response, making a scene of throwing her school bag before heading upstairs.

The baby stays sleeping and he stands, moving a cushion over to take his place so she isn’t in danger of rolling off.

Honey, he says, what’s wrong?

She’s being awfully quiet but he sees her shoulders shaking.

When his wife turns her eyes are red and she doesn’t bother to wipe away the falling tears.

Bucky had promised her he’d visit her on the first week of school. She asked when today and I told her he wouldn’t be coming anymore and, she’s cut off by sobs racking her body.

Gale finds his oldest in her room, glaring at the door as she waits for one of her parents to come in.

Uncle Bucky is a liar, she accuses before Gale attempts to approach his grumpy child.

Hey. His voice is stern, loud, in a way that it hasn’t been since they left Thorpe Abotts. His baby girl flinches and he remembers the war is over.

Gale apologizes and she deflates, allowing him the spot beside her on her tiny bed. It’s a race car bed with unicorns that Bucky helped her draw.

Uncle Bucky loved you so much, baby, his eyes burn as he speaks, he would be here if he could.

But when, she cries.

Well, baby, he’s up in the sky now. Bucky was raised a strong Catholic by his Ma’ for all his talk of non-belief. Gale was the non believer. He wasn’t sure there was a God or a higher power but he knew there was him and Bucky and that’s all he ever needed.

His baby scrunches her brows together, he’s in the ai’plain again?

And for the first time, Gale laughs.

Yup. He’s back in that B-17.

-

It’s Thursday and Bucky’s dead.

It hits Gale like a freight train. This sense of loss and the shattering in his heart isn’t something to get over; it’s something he has to learn to live with.

He’s going to have to miss John Egan for the rest of his life.

The entire time Gale’s been waiting on Bucky to pop back up, as bruised and dirty and battered as when he entered the stalag. Bucky would crawl from his grave, demolish the expensive tombstone they’d thrown over his body, and cross state lines to get to him. Because Bucky loved him and he had done it once and he would do it again.

But it sinks in that Bucky isn’t coming back. He isn’t visiting for the first week of school and his voice won’t be heard over the receiver ever again and he won’t show up unannounced on random days because he was bored.

Buck had fallen out of the sky and Bucky had followed his route, taken multiple, horrendous detours and managed to chase him down and allow him to return home first.

Now Bucky was dead and Buck had no one that would die for him, only people he would die for.

It’s Thursday and Bucky’s dead and Gale stays in bed, debating if this means it’s his turn to follow his dearest friend.

-

It’s Friday and DeMarco’s worried.

He knocks again, ignoring Brady’s leveling stare. He didn’t care if it wasn’t proper to bang on someone’s door, he needed to make sure Major Cleven was alright.

I’m comin’, I’m comin, he hears grumbling and the lock unhatching and then the door swings open to reveal Gale Cleven.

DeMarco takes a step back, air knocked out at the memories the sight of the state of his Major brings up. The eyebags under his eyes are dark and swollen, his eyes have dimmed of any witty remarks or expressions (maybe because Bucky was gone so he had no one left to dish them to) and DeMarco’s unsure why he appears slimmer than when they were at the stalag. His shoulders are bony, tiny, and his wrists look weak.

A strong gust of air would be able to knock their Major over.

Boys, he greets and at least his voice still sounds strong.

Gale lets them in, allowing them to follow him through his foyer until they’re seated at his kitchen island. Benny arrives last, opting to sit on the arm of the couch across from where Gale and Brady sit together. He sees his Major’s eyes cinch, just for a second and Benny hopes to see fire, wants Gale to curse at him for being improper and sitting on the arm of his couch, but then it’s gone and they sit in silence.

Want a drink, from his left pocket Benny extends a flask towards Gale.

Brady’s eyes widen when he accepts it but he hides the surprised gasp behind a cough into his elbow.

Gale thanks him, then sips.

We’re all gonna miss him, Major, Brady keeps his eyes downcast, picking at his fingernails. When he’d first met Bucky he had been in awe: that’s the kind of man he wanted to be like as a kid. Through the war the walls had begun to crack and Brady had seen the faults in the persona of his favorite Major but he’d never stopped being in awe of the leader he was.

Now Brady was allowed to mourn but he couldn’t do it in front of Major Cleven, who had lost much more.

You boys take a wrong turn, Gale asks and doesn’t address Brady’s comment.

Brady looks up now, locking eyes with DeMarco. There’s a connection between a pilot and his co-pilot that exceeds one’s personal stubbornness and pain.

Benny and Buck had dropped from a plane together the same way Brady and Bucky had.

Rosie’s been trynna call you, Benny says. He said his calls stopped going through. I tried calling and it was the same thing.

Had the line disconnected, Gale says and not much else.

Benny nods, Well that’s why we’re down here, Buck. Bucky wouldn’t want to see ya like this.

Good thing dead people can’t see, DeMarco.

God and those resting see all, Brady chimes in and chooses to ignore the warning look sent to him by Benny. He respects Buck and the man he is but that doesn’t mean he would sit idly by and allow disrespect to his beliefs.

For a second DeMarco’s afraid they’re going to be kicked out of the house. Buck’s shoulders tense, a skinny elbow balanced on a bony knee and the hand holding the flask is in a white knuckle tight grip but then it is gone.

Buck deflates, a head nod in Brady’s direction an apology unspoken.

Drove Bucky mad whenever you refused to eat in the camp, Benny reminisces, He’d shove his half eaten tuna can at me to hand to you. He always said you’d never take it from him because you would go as mad as him if he refused to eat.

It was the way of their major’s. The way it had been from the first day at flight school and how it had ended in East Anglia. And their closeness never brought on suspicions or raised any eyebrows because everyone was always much too thankful to the two men who did their best to bring them home alive and sane.

‘Member when he traded his first blanket for a bar of chocolate, Brady says and even Buck cracks a smile which accompanies his head shake. He’d been so angry he had stormed back to the Polish sector and demanded they return Bucky’s blanket. The price was much too high.

The Polish soldier settled with Bucky’s beanie and that night, once he was curled in his bunk wrapped up in a blanket and beanie down covering his ears, Bucky’s grumbling about how his head was cold kept him up.

Damn blanket hog, Gale adds. The blankets always ended up wrapped around Bucky and Bucky ended up wrapped around Buck, like an even exchange.

From his right pocket Benny produces another flask. Brady shakes his head in disapproval, but accepts it when offered.

To Major Egan, he clanks his flask against Buck’s in cheers.

Their sentiments echo in the empty house. They sit telling stories about a prison camp like friends around a campfire sharing school stories.

It’s evening when the boys leave. Gale hasn’t lost his smile for the past two hours and all they had done was talk about Bucky. Gale remembered everything they said, but only once Brady or DeMarco said it. The memories he had of Bucky being kept at bay like he was afraid they would cripple and ruin him if he dared to remember.

News said there’s gonna be shooting stars lighting up the sky tomorrow, Brady shares. He always loved those.

-

It’s Saturday night and Gale lays on the grass in his backyard. When Brady had excused himself to use the restroom, DeMarco had offered him some sleeping pills, prescribed by some head shrink in Chicago that he was 90% sure DeMarco had admitted to sleeping with during a phone call once.

Only one when the nights get too heavy, he had said.

Gale had accepted them but there had been no plans on taking them until he’d been tossing and turning and had taken himself to the couch so he wouldn’t wake his wife.

He had been tossing and turning on the couch when he remembered what Brady had said about the shooting stars. He swallowed a pill and brought a blanket to lay on the grass.

But that had been over an hour ago and sleep hadn’t come and neither had any shooting star.

It’s when he’s getting up, dragging the blanket with him, that he sees light cross the sky quickly. Followed by a twin shadow soon after and he’s unsure of how many he has so he wishes fast with his eyes closed.

I wish for Bucky.

He stands there in the darkness of his yard, silent except for the crickets, and waits. Waits. Waits.

Bucky doesn’t come strolling by and Gale gives up. Hopeless and ashamed for believing in wishing upon a star. For believing he would be allowed to bend the ways of the universe like Bucky used to.

Bucky made things happen.

Gale heads inside.

-

It’s two a.m and Gale’s unsure of how long he’s been asleep but there is someone poking his cheek and calling his name.

Buck. Buck.

Gale’s humming but this person is consistent in their prodding. They don’t want just his response, they require his attention.

Buck.

He opens his eyes and Bucky’s there. Wrinkly smile, bright blue eyes, mustache and all - his Major’s hat tipped to the side.

What took you so long, he smirks.

And Gale smiles a real smile for the first time since he got that phone call. It threatens to split his face. He looks like an idiot, cheesing as hard as he is and if he weren’t so afraid Bucky would disappear he would reach out to touch him.

Stone in my shoe, Gale returns.

They’re back on base in East Anglia, watching the bombs fall after having snuck out the bunker.

Gale feels young, twenty-two again before the effects of war managed to catch up to him.

Unable to stop himself from reaching out, Buck claps a hand on Bucky’s back. He is warm and solid. He isn’t rotten and cold six feet under.

Give it to me straight, Bucky starts, the Yankees have a turn around this season?

There’s a teasing glint in his eye. He’s so sure Buck doesn’t have the answer but,

Lost to the Red Sox. Cardinals are taking it. The game had come on over the radio and Buck hadn’t changed the station.

Bucky curses, but he looks amused, looking back at Buck.

So all I had to do was die to get ya’ to listen to a game huh, he admonishes.

Dead? Gale freezes, you’re right here with me.

Bucky looks back at him to check if he’s joking, another bomb landing much closer and illuminating the shadows on his face. The curve of his jaw and the sharp lines of his nose.

This ain’t where I stay, Buck. Just asked the Big Guy for a weekend pass, he raises a thin brow.

Buck doesn’t have anything to say to that and he can’t find it in himself to muster a smile at the joke.

He thought time had turned back. That they had a chance to do it all over again only this time he would limit the drinks and the smokes and the women and the pain Bucky consumed and then his heart wouldn’t give out on him.

When John offered an invite to London, Buck would accept it this time.

He would do it right.

It was always me who couldn’t live without you, Buck. You - you’re gonna be just fine. Strongest man I know.

Everyone found it easy to assume because John was always shameless and loud in his adoration of Buck. He was never afraid to pinch his cheeks — soft and plump like a pretty girl’s flesh — and he had a habit of grabbing at Buck’s thigh when he sat beside him — need to do something with my hands — and use any opportunity to sing his praises — now Buck he’s a damn good pilot; he’s a fighter pilot who happens to fly a bus. Buck had gotten shot down in enemy territory and Bucky had commanded an entire flight plan in order to follow him.

But Buck — he was the one who couldn’t be without John. Who saved him the seat beside him at every table and saved his rarest smiles for John because they made him feel special. It was Buck who saw the Air Exec post was killing him and requested he be demoted. Buck had paced the entirety of the camp and was led to his bunk with a rifle to his back every night until John arrived.

He had been glad when John arrived because then he wasn’t alone. Then Buck had John.

And John would have never wished for Buck to be in the Stalag if the roles were reversed; he would have been shot down in an attempt to keep him from entering the gates.

John was selfless with his love for Buck; Gale’s love for Bucky is selfish.

Always told you to take better care of that heart, Gale says. He had said it in regard to the skirts he chased and to the boys he led and he had said it the first day they met when Bucky handed his heart to his namesake.

I wouldn’t do anything different, John returns. I had a good run of it. How are my girls?

Buck thinks of Jo and Annie and Katie and how he hadn’t bothered to call or check on them and recoils in shame.

How was the first week of school, John asks instead.

Buck stutters then tells him of how upset his oldest had gotten when Uncle Bucky never arrived.

She’s gonna be a tough one, John smirks. She’ll be fine, I left her with some tips on how to deal with any mean bastards.

Bucky, he warns.

Bucky shrugs.

Call Jo will ya? Annie was giving her a hard time, she’s at that age. Tell ‘er the tickets to the pony show are inside my shirt drawer, Gale gives him an eyebrow raise and Bucky shrugs again, The girls wanted to see unicorns so. That’s what I got. The unicorn’s cousin.

You’re ridiculous.

Call Jo ya hear me?

I hear you, Bucky. I promise.

Good, Bucky relaxes back to continue watching. It should be criminal for mass destruction to create such beautiful colors. And book a flight down there too. I need you to pick up my lucky deuce. The Yankee’s luck needs a Buck.

Gale shakes his head, Aw hell, John. But he’s smiling through the demands.

That’s the way it has been since the day they met.

Buck, tie my shoe.

Buck, help me fly this plane.

Buck, fix the collar of my jacket.

Buck, help me trim my mustache. Can't get it straight.

Buck was given Bucky’s name and a list of demands but all they did was help him feel enough.

Buck would be enough.

Thanks for visitin’, John says. Get more rest, it’ll give us time to catch up.

All I do is sleep, Gale admits, disappointed. He thinks of his wife’s sad eyes every time she sees him in bed.

Nah. You close your eyes but you don’t sleep.

Benny gave me pills, Gale admits. Took one tonight and then I wished on a shooting star.

Bucky clucks his tongue, You get back and you flush ‘em. And I’m gonna stop by Benny’s tonight and yank him from his bed.

Gale rolls his eyes. Don’t do that. I’ll flush them.

You don’t need no shooting star or funny pills, Gale, John says. All you gotta do is ask me to come and I’ll be here.

Buck settles back against the wall and allows the silence to envelop them.

-

It’s Sunday nine a.m, Gale’s eyes have only open and Bucky’s still dead,

Gale wakes, gets ready for the day, and calls Jo.

[the-great-knight-gay]

Character Analysis: The Seven (Riordanverse)

Each of the seven have issues:

Percy is suicidal as in most of his POVs there is a large lack of regard for his life, multiple times stating he believes people will be better off without him and even stating he wanted to drown in TLF and SoM. On top of that... Physically abused as a kid. C'mon we all remember and hate Gabe. I hate how his entire character was literally forgotten about, despite the fact that an abusive parent should stick with a kid for quite some time.

Here's my headcanon for that. It wasn't forgotten, just not acknowledged. We all remember in the earlier books Percy was pretty much apologizing for doing anything right. That's a trait instilled in people who are used to getting abuse for doing anything. I could just be reading into it too much, and I probably am, but it's the only thing that reassures me that this wasn't forgotten about.

In fact I don't think Rick really understood the implications of what Gabe's actions would have done to Percy as he stated that in the upcoming show Timm Sharp's performance as Gabe had everyone laughing and I think that's the only thing I am slightly apprehensive about in the show.

His lack of self-worth is honestly probably a result of Gabe and I feel so angry that it was never touched.

Annabeth has abandonment issues as nearly everyone she has ever loved has left her at some point. Her mother disowned her after TLH, her father chose her mortal family over her and ignored her as she grew up, Luke betrayed her and Thalia joined the Hunters. There was even that time when Chiron was going to leave for good in SoM. That was why she was so threatened by Rachel. Because she was taking away the one good person left who stood by her.

Yes I just ignored Grover. I realize that.

Jason suffers from image issues as he was put on a pedestal from day one, even as a child just because his daddy was a king. He does NOT get enough credit my man suffered as a kid. This was probably one of the only ones where Rick actually tried to address the problem and eventually he found his calling and grew past that. Then Trials of Apollo came along. *Ugly sobbing intensifies*

Piper suffers from neglect from her father who didn't have enough time to spend with her and from her mother leaving. Even when her mother was there in Charleston, she paid much more attention to Hazel and Annabeth than she did to her own daughter.

Leo... Where to start? The kid was homeless and slept in sewers. That on its own is just sad but even more, he believed he was the reason his mom was dead. He was shunned by his own flesh and blood and was forced to retreat behind the comfort of his machines and even then, Festus was brutally taken away by those lasers. Rick really just pulled out the most brutal, sad backstory for this kid ever.

Frank is one of the less traumatized ones but still, a dead mother and having to watch his home burn down with his grandmother inside? Not good.

Hazel... Pulled out of time into unfamiliar circumstances. Having to deal with the knowledge that her childhood friend moved away, thinking that it was his fault that Hazel left (Sammy and the diamond). Having to deal with the knowledge that she was part of the reason one of the giants had risen. Forcibly exiling herself from Elysium into Asphodel just so her mom wouldn't suffer. And speaking of her mom... Maria Levesque's treatment of Hazel, acting as if she were a curse and not a living child, making her sympathize with the Minotaur of all creature, would leave lasting scars on all of them.

The most consolation I can get for this is that it looks like most of them have managed to move past all of this. Jury is still out on Annabeth and Percy as I have not read CotG yet but I'm hopeful.

Except Jason. They just had to completely overhaul him by ripping away the relationship he had with Piper, which didn't need to happen, right before he died.

My reason for not liking the Jasiper break up is the fact that, the argument that they were forced into the relationship happened at the wrong time. This was after they had done a fresh start of the end of BoO. Anytime before that I can understand, but at that point? There was no reason. Then they just had to kill my boy. RICK I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS IF THIS HAPPENS TO ANYONE IN THE WRATH OF THE TRIPLE GODDESS AND WHATEVER THE FINAL BOOK OF THIS NEW TRILOGY IS I WILL FIND YOU!

Apologies I get a bit worked up sometimes.

DON'T KILL GROVER

It's a bad habit.

PERCABETH BETTER NOT FACE ANY RELATIONSHIP PROBLEMS THEY ARE PERFECT DON'T RUIN IT!

Anyways, Knight out!

Go check out my Ao3 and Wattpad

No Riordanverse fics yet as I am still focusing on my Pokémon OC story but just you wait! It's coming!