#;; “you just slept the big sleep- not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell.” ━━━★ cillian o dochartaigh

[alonggoodbye]

Cillian headcanons

Name: - Personal knowledge: Aodhán Artaíth (Given at birth) - Fae knowledge: The Viscount of Tech Duínn, Lord Artaíth, Taibhse/"Spectre" - Human knowledge: Cillian, Cillian o Dochartaigh, this name belongs to him now. (Lore: When fae ask you for your name, they are often times literally asking for your name and if you are foolish enough to give it to them they can do whatever they wish with it. Usually, fae use it to control humans. In this case the Dullahan took it for himself in his early years simply because he liked it and the man it previously belonged to was cursed to roam the land with out a memory in his head, 'til death.) Pronouns: He/They Race: Fae, Dullahan Languages: Fae common, Irish, English, bsl/asl

Hair: Auburn, naturally holds a soft curl but is prone to tangle as it is very fine Skin: Pale, ashen, deathly. Ginger freckles throughout body, port-wine stain birthmark on his chest Eyes: Blue irises with a gold ring around the pupil, black sclera (when unglamoured). Scent: Sea water, smoke, honey and elderberry. Voice: Disembodied, soft, silvery, polyphonic/two-toned

[ronqueesha]

“You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell." Raymond Chandler

[rad-roche]

i am on the very very very last pages of playback which means naturally i have put it down at 97% and am instead writing an extended post on the big sleep, which is seven books and seventy-seven years of movie ago

the plot of the big sleep, the book, is famously convoluted. this isn't me being dismissive, it works because it is, but it's not the sort of mystery where you have the fun of piecing things together yourself. you're in it for the characters, the tone, the city, all that good stuff, the plot is just a stand to hang the many stylish hats on. i've read the book twice, and i've seen the movie twice. it's mostly humphrey bogart and lauren bacall staring lustfully at one another for an hour and a half. the plot had to be changed to support a 'happy' ending so it goes from confusing to absolutely incomprehensible. it's very, very good. don't worry about it, it's fine

the book isn't my favourite of the series (that'd be lady in the lake) but it's a classic, deservedly so. the long and short of it is, phillip marlowe, private detective, is hired by an ageing oil magnate to deal with his daughter, carmen's, blackmailer. on the way out the door, his other daughter, vivian says 'ah, you're here to find my missing ex husband'. from there a whole bunch more happens. i know this isn't a particularly compelling summary for the people reading this but you have to cut me some slack here not even chandler knew why that guy in the car died. i'm just normal men i'm just innocent men. anyways

the book is named for the bitter, bitter monologue at the end. marlowe has found out what happened to viv's ex-husband: carmen murdered him in a fugue state. marlowe, who is fundamentally good in a world that cannot support it, participates in (briefly) covering up the murder to spare their aging father the horror of finding out what his daughters have done because he's going to die anyway. it's also about the closest the book gets to any kind of optimism

What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that. Oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of the nastiness now.

if you have party poppers, now is the time to set them off. the movie ending is different. this in itself isn't a bad thing, i'm not of the belief that adaptations have to be totally beholden to the original, but it's a 'happy' ending and it's tonally fascinating. marlowe, in cold blood, chases the bad guy out into the street and into a hail of bullets. he and viv, (who in the end he can't stand in the book) get together romantically. the (mandated) happy ending, where everything works out quote unquote, is so dissonant that it actually feels much darker. i thought that was interesting

[polyghostfacehours]

Howdy! Could i please request some HCs of reader that is Tatum's s/o but at the same time works with Ghostface defending Tatum at the party in the scene were she dies? Like, reader loves her so much they are willing to go against Stu and Billy to protect her <33

YES YES YES. You absolutely can. Gosh I love Tatum requests so much!

I had so much fun doing this one! It was such a neat concept! A Reader who helped Billy and Stu but was also in love with Tatum? Holy shit. Big Brain idea. This got a little long too lol.

TW: Slight Angst. Character Death.

Tatum's ghostface!SO defending her against Billy and Stu:

You and Tatum had been together for a few months now. Stu was her ex, and while you and him were best friends, Tatum preferred to avoid him.

Their break-up wasn't nasty or anything, and they were cordial, if not artificially friendly with one another. She just didn't want to stay in close contact with an ex is all.

Still she loved his parties and he was fine with her coming if it meant you came too. He thought you were a blast at parties.

Tatum and you went together like peanut butter and jelly. Your senses of humor gelled, and she was your most ardent defender. No one messed with you, or they'd face Tatum 'girlboss' Riley and her manicured claws.

You'll never forget the day she bought you a milkshake after a bad break up you had with an ex boyfriend. She sat with you all night at a Steak and Shake, shit talking him with you. The very next day, she cancelled all plans she had and took you to the mall and then an NSYNC concert to make you feel better, and you had a blast.

She was fashionable, funny, witty, smart, and gorgeous. You were smitten.

Unbeknownst to her, you assisted your two best friends in the little revenge plot. You were the support. Your role was to be the get-away driver, to patch them up after a kill, and to cover for them and be an effective alibi. Sometimes, you got phone duty.

You were doing it because, you just...didn't care who got hurt. Not your problem. The only people who mattered to you in this town were your girlfriend Tatum and your BFFs Billy and Stu.

Sidney, Randy, and everyone else in Woodsboro could croak for all you cared.

You saw how bad Billy's mom leaving affected you and it killed you inside. So when he asked for your help, saying the only ones he could turn to were Stu and you? You agreed.

You had one stipulation: Tatum didn't get hurt. They had agreed.

But behind your back, they agreed they would kill her. Stu hated how, just like Casey, Tatum dumped him for someone else. Even if that someone else was you, it was unacceptable.

They debated killing you too. After all, you, in a way, stole Tatum away. You were like Steve. Eventually they agreed to shelf it and come back to the topic later. You'd survive Woodsboro, they decided, but they might get rid of you in the future if you prove to not be as loyal to them as they thought.

Once the party happened, you wouldn't leave Tatum's side the whole night. You threes' plan would be coming to fruition, and you'd be damned if Tatum got caught in the crossfire.

Your plan was to lace her drink with heavy sleeping meds, and then helping her upstairs to a bedroom so she can "rest" while everything went down.

Stu tried many, many times to get her alone in the garage. Asking for more beers, for more snacks, for the extra boombox in there, etc. etc. And you weren't having it. You started getting suspicious. Why was Stu trying to get Tatum alone if you guys agreed you wouldn't kill her?

Once you got Tatum into a spare room after successfully roofie-ing her drink is when shit really went down.

As Stu chased Sidney and you played the part of a helpless victim who'd also survive and corroborate Billy and Stu's testimonies, you find out that Tatum was never meant to live all along.

You catch Billy, who pretended to get stabbed going to the spare room Tatum slept to finish her off. It wasn't until you shoved him away as he was about to that you realize how fucked this whole thing was. Billy gets mad, and tells you to choose: some blond bitch you've been dating for like 4 months? Or your two best friends who loved you?

You decide that, no, you weren't gonna go through with this. And of course, Billy is heartbroken and betrayed - you were one of the two people in this world that he trusted.

But in the end, you made your choice, so Billy decided you needed to go too. He injures you, and you're on the floor bleeding out. And as he's about to finish you off, you both hear Sidney downstairs locking Randy and Stu out.

You're incapacitated for now, so Billy lets you go to pretend to stumble downstairs. He'll take care of you and Tatum later, right now Sid needed to die. ('stupid of him' you think, as you pass out.)

The rest of the events that follow play out just like in the movie. Billy and Stu confront Sidney, fuck up, and die. They were too caught up to mention your name too, so Sidney is none the wiser to your involvement. And you decide to keep it that way.

Tatum was safe. And that's all that mattered.

When you awoke in the hospital, Tatum was there. She wasn't wearing make-up for once and her eyes were red and puffy.

She recounted everything that happened with tears. Dewey's injury, Stu and Billy's nefarious plot and their deaths. And she kept apologizing over and over for passing out drunk and not being there for you. Not being there to protect you.

You comfort her, tell her it's okay. That you're just happy she's safe.

She comforts you about Billy and Stu as you cry. And your tears aren't fake. Because even though you decided to turn against them in the end, they were still your best friends. And you'll never forget Billy's heartbroken expression when you made your choice.

Still, you don't regret it. You don't regret choosing Tatum. Because you loved her more than anything. More than Billy and Stu. More than life itself.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

I know everyone likes the "secretly good villain whumpee..." but what about when the villain was a rat- bastard with very few redeeming qualities... just being injured and sick and oh so broken. Just begging for mercy, even though they were so arrogant and vicious before.

I melt at those scenarios.

I agree with that. If the villain is secretly good, you might as well call him or her a hero- or at least a vigilante.

Vicious and Bloody

Warnings: gorey(?) description of injuries, maggots, blood, vomit, mention of people dying, pus, field medicine, bathing, vomit, sleep deprivation, pills (tylenol and ibuprofen), attempted murder, implied past torture, hallucinations, fever, delirium

~

There was no rational answer for the scene in front of her. Not even the greastest minds in history could comprehend it- figuratively speaking. It was just so peculiar, odd and out of place, that it was like from a different dimension.

The said scene would be absolutely mortifying to the squeamish soul. Between the blood and the vomit and the maggots, the sight was more than revolting.

But still, ignoring her instincts to gag and run, Civilian crouched down next to the poor man- not touching, of course, it would only irritate his injuries further and be disgusting on many levels.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Civilian asked the man softly, brushing back the part of his grimey hair that wasn't intoxicated by maggots or too much blood.

But in doing that, she realized that the man wasn't even conscious. Which, was not surprising and brought a small relief to the nervous civilian.

But it also revealed his identity. Even without the foreboding mask, his features unmistakably were those of the most feared and vile human of the city.

Villain.

"If you ever see Villain, call the heroes. If he so happens to be incapacitated, kill him or injure him further to limit his ability of escape or to destroy."

That mandatory lesson rang through Civilian's ears nearly as loud as semi's horn. It was every civilian's responsibility- whether they were a certified hero or not- to hand it or dispose of any being against the government.

Especially Villain.

Especially without any doubt Villain.

Civilian sighed and observed the injured man's face. It was her responsibility to do this, the city would thank her, applaud her.

She brought her hands to Villain's neck and squeezed. His breaths hitched, but he didn't wake, not even to the sensation of suffocation. Civilian squeezed her eyes shut, but it did nothing to rid her mind of the horrendous sight of his already crimson stained face growing even redder... his lips paling then morphing into a grayish blue...

Civilian gasped, drawing her hands away from his neck. The villain's eyes shot open as he tried to fill his lungs, but as he heaved and wheezed, they kept rolling up and sliding closed.

"Hey!" Civilian exclaimed, tapping his shoulder. Villain's eyes shot open and he looked at Civilian with an expression filled with the unthinkable.

Fear.

Villain's lip trembled as he tried his hardest to scoot away. He whimpered something unintelligently and weakly held up a hand as if to protect himself from futher harm- as if the shaking limb could do anything other than wave aimlessly in the air.

Upon coming to the conclusion that escape was impossible, the villain resumed a position of pointless mewling.

"Don't hurt me," he whined, tears streaming down his cheeks, making the small cuts sting and itch. "D-don't hurt me. I've been bad, please don't remind me. P-please." He shifted his head into his elbow and sobbed.

Civilian didn't know what to do with the scenario, so she just allowed him to cry until he was too exhausted to do anything other than whimper pained pleas.

When his eyes started to droop, Civilian wrapped her arms around his upper body and heaved him into a sitting position- somewhat shocked of how limp and pliable he was.

Then she stopped. What was she doing? Villain was the most notoriously evil person in the city, if not the universe. He killed hundreds, thousands even including men, women, and children. He was undeserving of any level of comfort, whether that be love, care, or compassion.

Yet someone had to be worse than him to put him in such a nasty condition.

"Don't hurt me," Villain whispered, clinging to Civilian's shirt with all his might- as little as that was.

"I won't," Civilian promised, smiling down at the injured villain. The villain sighed and closed his eyes.

She had to help him now. It would be practically illegal to turn him in, or harm him even further. Well, metaphorically speaking.

Civilian dragged Villain into her house. Luckily, she owned a one-story, so bringing him to the bathroom was not too big of a deal- apart from the exertion on her slender arms, that was.

Immediately, Civilian stripped off the remains of his tattered clothing and sat him in the tub. Gingerly, she washed out the infection wounds, making sure all the maggots were gone.

After thirty minutes, she only finished the lower half of his body and his back and shoulders were much, much worse. It took another hour to get done with those.

Civilian took a second to catch her breath, she didn't realize how diligently she was working. The villain was completely clean, other than countless uneven holes that looked like someone grabbed his skin and pulled it out.

The next line of business was whether or not to give him stitches. Many of the remainding wounds were heavily infected and would benefit from being dried out.

Many of those infected wounds needed to be drained and removed.

Civilian sighed, thinking of her nursing classes. She had school tomorrow...

Someone was dying.

Someone with the name of Villain.

Civilian ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. She ran in through the sharpener a couple times before heating it on the stove to remove bacteria. Here goes...

Civilian cut into one of the infected abscesses and carefully drained the pus out. She sighed and wiped her hands on a papertowel. She should really be wearing gloves...

Villain jerked, suddenly awakening with a shriek. His eyes saw the knife and he froze, staring at it for a long time, before erupting into unstoppable sobs.

"Don't hurt me! P-p-please don't... knife," he wailed, trying to curl into himself.

"Stop it," Civilian tried to reason, clenching her teeth, as she pulled Villain away from himself. He started to rock, back and forth... back and forth... back and-

"Hurts," he whimpered.

"I know," Civilian whispered, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm trying to help."

"No. Pain."

"No pain?" Civilian repeated, trying to make sense of what Villain's intent of the statically said statement.

"No pain," he murmured, resting his head against the tub. "Take away."

"I don't have anything for the pain," Civilian told him softly. "Some nyquil, but I'd rather give you tylenol for the fever."

Villain looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Please," he begged..

"It's just gonna make you tired, not take away the full extent of the pain."

Villain let out a strained sob and kicked out with his feet. Pouting in the most pitiful way.

"Just," Civilian sighed. "Just. It's gonna hurt."

Civilian leveled the knife to another wound and drained it. Villain writhed in the beginning, but stopped when he realized his fate.

By the time each major abscess was drained, Villain was barely conscious, his head lolling groggily against the bath tub. Civilian gulped. She would have to disinfect the wounds now, but she didn't have anything for it...

Salt water, a saline solution.

Villain's screams did not leave Civilian's memory for a while, even when he was finally asleep on the couch. Civilian aimlessly rubbed his hand, whispering to him as he slept, but it all felt wrong. So, so wrong. All the people he hurt never got the same level of care that he was receiving- as if they had any at all.

But at the same time, it felt right. None of Villain's victim's injuries were as extreme as his- they either died or went to the hospital. Whoever tortured Villain wanted him to suffer, not that Villain wanted people to not suffer...

Crap, this was confusing herself.

Civilian cared for Villain throughout the night. The open textbook on her kitchen table did not even remind her of her class in the morning. Nothing could, especially when someone so sick seeked her hospitality.

Villain's fever raged and he was fed more and more tylenol. Eventually, she started to put ice packs around his neck and major arteries, but he was still so, so miserable.

He started to hallucinate. Sometimes whimpering about a bat flying around his head, or laughing giddily. But one of these episodes really stood out to Civilian.

"Curve, curve," he muttered as his cheek rested against the mattress- for some reason he kept flipping himself to his stomach. "Fall."

"Then cave." The delirious, but intense gaze the villain had made Civilian wonder if he was trying to tell her something in his fevered state.

"Man hurt."

Civilian shushed Villain and gave him a quick sip of water with an ibuprofen tablet. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Don't hurt me," Villain whispered, scratching at the sheets. "Please."

"I won't, sleep."

Villain slowly, oh so slowly nodded as he allowed his eyes to slip closed.

Civilian took care of Villain as best as she could. She really needed to get supplies, but it was dangerous to leave the villain unattended as sick and injured as he was. Infection set in agai, fever rose...

Civilian groaned and rubbed her head. She had a horrible headache from stress and lack of sleep.

Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt...

When Civilian woke up, seven hours later, she found Villain shivering on the ground with vomit all over him.

"Dangit," Civilian groaned and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

Just dangit.

[devilrainbunnie]

._ anthurium pt 2 _.

tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

1/X/3

CW: anxiety trigger, manipulation, cheating, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression and mental health (minors DNI)

a/n: I could not get the second part idea out of my head, I’m also going to try to write properly instead of doing all lowercase for practice. I’m used to doing lowercase but, whatever.

Tomura sprawled out over the black couch in his now empty, and lifeless apartment. His eyes were locked to the ceiling above him, though he was looking at nothing in particular. There was an unfamiliar feeling inside of his chest he had never felt before. Never in the mans life had he ever felt, or thought the way he did now. All his life he had done nothing but take, hate, use and abuse everything in this world-- so why couldn’t he stop feeling this heavy weight of regret within his body? Why did the corners of his eyes prick with hot, salty tears? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? In his mind, he blames you for this feeling. If you had just stayed, and let this continue, he wouldn’t feel like this. 

But deep down he knows, that this is all of his fault.

He hurt you, constantly. Because you had always been there, accepted him, and coddled him, he never expected you to go anywhere. No matter what he did, or no matter what he said to you. He had hurt you in the past, many times. You always stayed. That made him believe you were okay with everything, or that’s at least what he told himself to make what he did not as bad. He never saw you crying, he never saw you actually upset. He thought your sometimes pestering and anxious ways you tried to confront him were nothing but annoying, not that you were silently begging him to love you and see he was breaking you. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see it. He didn’t even think about how it was affecting you. He was selfish, when all you were was selfless. You’d given everything to him, after Kurogiri was taken, you took care of him. Fed him, comforted him, made sure he was holding it together. Even before that, you tried to stop him from scratching at himself, you made sure he ate more than just take out, and junk food. You made sure he slept every night, showered every day. You helped him keep his things tidy. 

You gave him something he had never had; love. You gave up everything to be with him, and you made sure to always put him above yourself, even when you shouldn’t have. He realized up until recently that he made the biggest mistake he would ever make. He lost the one person who would’ve dropped everything for him, for someone who was nothing but a good fuck. Someone who was manipulating him, someone who quite literally used their quirk to make him believe what he was feeling was genuine. 

Tomura hated himself for it, he felt like a fucking garbage can. He lost his everything. He lost his love, his life, his happiness... all for some sex, and higher ranks. 

He tried a couple times to release his pent up emotions by turning to the girl, but he felt sick any time he put his hands on her. Everything came crashing down to him, and it didn’t exactly happen immediately. The first time it hit him, is when Dabi tried to kill him. 

...

The day after you left, Tomura was furious with you. Believing you had betrayed him, deceived him, and that he was going to unleash hell the next time he laid eyes on you. He slammed doors all night long after he found your note, drinking some sake and staying up until the sun rose. That morning he had a meeting, he got ready and wore his usual new outfit, a fancy black suit, with a long black trench coat and fur lined at the hood. Something you had actually helped him pick out, even though he whined about it being itchy against his face and neck constantly. He preferred his big hoodies, skinny jeans and converse, but now that he was a leader of such a professional group-- he was expected to look the part.

He adjusted himself in the mirror, putting on the singular artist glove, and flattening out the wrinkles in his suit. In all honesty, he just wanted to go to bed, and sleep away this angered feeling but he decided against it. Tomura needed to be professional.

He stepped out of the apartment, his hands in the pockets of the thick trench coat. A migraine beginning to settle into his head at the bright lights of the building. His eyes squinting, and blinking rapidly to adjust. He mindlessly strolled over to the elevator, and waited until the doors opened. Staring at his fancy black dress shoes, thinking to himself how stupid this all was. Soon the elevator arrived, and he stepped inside. It was empty, just how he preferred it, leaning his head back against the cold metal framing of the cart as it went upwards to the room he planned to have the meeting. 

Soon he arrived on the floor, stepping out of the metal box, and walking into the large room the meeting was meant to take place. As soon as he opened the door, all eyes were on him. He walked to take his place to speak, when he heard a familiar raspy voice make a comment towards him. Tomura, having absolutely no patience for his shit, decided to speak out. “Is there a problem, crispy?” he sneered, taking his seat on the couch, scooting himself in to get comfortable.

“Yeah, there is a big fucking problem. Not that you would give a shit though, fucking prick.” 

“Excuse me?!” Tomura snapped, sitting up to look at Dabi standing in front of him.

“You fucking heard me you nasty street rat. We have a fucking problem, and you’re lucky we’re inside because I wouldn’t hesitate to torch you alive right now.”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” he scoffed.

“Y/n. You fucking pushed her away. Y/n could be dead right now for all we know and it’s all your fault, because you just had to be selfish and fuck someone who is quite literally using you.” Dabi snapped, a little bit of blue shining from the insides of his closed fists. He was seething with rage, the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“She left on her own accord dumbass. If you’re so concerned with her, then go find her yourself. Stop talking about her. I don’t have time for this shit. I did nothing--”

“That’s the thing crusty, you did. You fucking cheated on her, pushed her away, made her cry, and treated her like shit. Do you know how many times I had to see that poor girl looking like she was barely hanging on by a thread?” He sneered, Tomura rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t fucking act like you did nothing wrong. All of us tried to talk to you about cheating on her because we never saw Y/n and when we did, she looked fucking hollow. I don’t know how many times Twice or Spinner tried to talk to you about it, and you’d shut the door in their faces.”

“As I said, she left on her own accord! Quit talking about this--”

“He’s right, Tomura-kun. You need to take responsibility for this, she left because of you. She didn’t just abandon you, you pushed her to her limits and she left because she felt like she was no longer wanted by you. Why can’t you just take responsibility? I thought you were better than this Tomura-kun.” Toga stepped in, his words hit her hard. Toga was like your little sister. She loved you the most out of anyone in the league besides Twice, any time she could, she was right at your hip. “I-I... I miss her so much.” Toga said quietly under her breath, feeling herself start to tear up.

“Fuck this!” Tomura said loudly, slamming his fists down against the couch, and standing to his feet. 

“You don’t get to just fucking walk away from this!” Dabi screamed at him, which was really the only time they ever heard him get upset. Dabi marched straight at Tomura, launching his fist straight to his face. Tomura grabbed his wrist with his gloved hand. They began to restrain one another before Dabi started slowly inching flames his way, and Tomura’s glove began to slip off intentionally. They were both pulled away separately. “I’m gonna kick your ass for this soon enough you grimy fuck! That girl was the only person in the league I actually enjoyed! Fuck you! I’ll fucking kill you!” Tomura realized how much he was acting like an older brother to you, and how truly sad everyone looked. You were part of their family, and he had made you leave. The rest of the day was a blur to him, he spent it drinking too much sake, playing games, and at some point crying. 

The next days, he was angry and couldn’t process his emotions without some alcohol in his system. After a while, it hit him way too hard, and sleeping at night was nearly impossible. The next weeks all he did was mope around, and hate himself. He didn’t do anything like he used to anymore, besides stuff with PLF, he just took it upon himself to waste his days away locked on the couch or bed.

...

Tomura rubbed his face with four fingers, turning to his side to stare out of the large window, watching the way the moon shined into the room. He imagined your silhouette sitting at the window watching it to, like he often saw when he came into the room. This time instead of being annoyed at your presence, he wonders how he could fix things if you never left. Would things ever even be seen properly if you hadn’t left?

He whines out loud at the thought, wishing you were there to tell him it’s all okay, and comb through his hair with your soft fingers like you used to. He wants to sleep, but he can’t. 

“I miss you. I’m a fucking idiot.” he softly murmurs into the air. Looking over to the anthurium plant that was in its usual spot that you loved so much, you had that plant longer than you were with him. Most of the plants in the room were long dead by now, but the anthurium was thriving. It gave him the smallest bit of comfort and relief, that somewhere, you were alive and okay. He wondered if you’d ever come back, even just for the plants. He smiled at the thought of you again, and he reached to the floor to pull up one of your old tee-shirts you left behind. A simple black one, and it still reeked of your familiar, comforting scent. He nuzzled his face into it, absorbing the comfortable feeling it gave him. Imagining you just being here again, right back into his arms like he wished. Like everything was okay again. The thought gave him comfort, as he closed his heavy lidded crimson irises that begged for the release of slumber. To dream of a life different than the one he was faced with. One with you in it.

In another life, I guess.

^^^

The last month was a tough one for you, you left everything behind. No plan in mind but to get as far away from Tomura as you could. You managed to get through the run down city of Deika somewhat okay, even though there was rubble covering the entirety of the streets. You would’ve been left with cuts and bruises because of how hard it was to climb over certain spots, but luckily your quirk saved you from that. Your eyes were dry by the time you reached the end of the city, it dawned on you there that you were finally free from the pain you once felt. It didn’t completely go away, but the familiarity of your surroundings was unknown, and that gave your mind some clarity. There was no pain here, nothing around you reminded you of him. It was uncharted territory, a place to make your own. Sure it was just a mostly deserted pavement road surrounded by some trees, and houses that were more than likely empty. There was nothing left to do but go forward. You walked down the empty pavement road until the sun began to rise, and still no signs of any civilization. It was empty, lifeless, and dull, but you were happy. Free. From time to time you’d stop to fix your shoes, find somewhere to relieve yourself or drink some water. 

You were hoping to find a bus, or a motel before you got too tired. You stopped for a moment to check the small pocket watch you had with you in your bag to see that it was almost seven in the morning. But you kept on, and even though your legs began to feel like jello-- you soon were coming upon a new city. One that looked full, lively, and different. 

Instead of just hopping on a bus, you decided to find a motel to shower, unwind and sleep in a warm bed. As you stumbled upon one, paid for you room and stripped yourself of your clothes, you immediately crashed to the bed. Sleeping for far longer than you wanted to, but needed to.

For a while it was a lot of traveling, trying to come up on a plan, and your money was running low. You were free, but there was still a cost. There you were, eating some cheap, cold soba outside in the rain in Musutafu. It was midday, and there was a lot of people out on the streets going to and from work (or school, who knows), the streets were lined with cars. heroes were on patrol everywhere. It felt good to be back somewhere you were used to, even if there was nothing for you there to feel stable. The jacket you wore was fairly thick, but didn’t keep you the warmest. You sat underneath a small bus stop shivering while eating something that made your hands go numb. Some of those that passed you gave you dirty looks, eyeing you up and down, assuming you were just another dirty beggar enjoying a meal someone else paid for you. Internally you felt ashamed of yourself for having to live like this, but it was all for a purpose. Let them stare, what do they know?

Soon your noodles were lessening, and you had finished your soba. After you took the last few noodles, you grabbed all of the trash you had sitting around you, and walked over to a trash can outside of the large law firm you were outside of. Placing it inside, and walking away before you heard something behind you. “Y/n?” a voice called from behind you, not registering at first that it was familiar to you.

You turned your head to look at the person behind you. It was Giran, in the flesh. Standing there with an umbrella over his head, and cigarette kissing between his lips. “Giran?” He flopped his grey locks out of his forehead. He looked exactly how you remembered him, gapped tooth, nice looking clothes, beautiful gold rings decorating his fingers, and the little glasses of his you always tried to steal from him.

“Doll... what the hell are you doing all the way over here? What happened? Why do you...”

“Why do I look like this?” You raised your brow, he shamelessly nodded. “I’m homeless, that’s why.”

“Why? What happened for you to be homeless?”

“I... I left. Things happened, I just-- I needed to leave.” you stumbled over your words, not really wanting to tell him the full story.

“I have a feeling there’s a story there you’re not telling me.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it another time. Well, it was good seeing you, I’ll leave you to it--” 

He hastily cut you off, not letting you walk away from him. It was obvious to the both of you that you were running from something, and probably going to run off to another city alone again. “Wait!” you turned to him, raising your eyebrow to him. “I was just heading home, come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone, doll.”

“I don’t want to impose... Really, I’ll be fine--”

“Y/n. You are homeless, I want you to be safe and sleep in a warm bed. You aren’t imposing sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I ask nothing in return besides that you fill me in at some point about what happened. I don’t wanna hear any no’s or but’s coming from ya, you’re not sleeping out on the streets anymore. Let’s go.” he said shamelessly. Giran was always good with looking out for you, you came to him shortly before going to the league looking for work as a healer within a group. You found yourself intrigued by Shigaraki, and Giran of course being the gentleman he is, asked you if you were sure a million times. Telling you that no matter what happened, he would watch over you, and take care of you. He’d always cared. You hastily agreed, he patted your shoulder comfortingly.

You followed him closely back to his home, the umbrella doing little to prevent water from falling all over you. Soon you arrived to his beautiful home, and quickly settled in. He allowed you to take a shower, took all of your clothes to run through the washer, and gave you some of his spare clothes to wear in the mean time. The hot water soothed your sickly cold feeling skin, the musky mint smelling soap soothing your senses. For the first time in a while, you were relaxed.

After taking a shower, and setting up in his guest room, Giran came into the room. Eyeing you carefully as you sat in the white cotton sheets in his baggy undershirt and basketball shorts. Your wet hair sticking to the back of your head. “Hungry?” he asked. “I’m about to order takeout, what sounds good?”

“Curry, and taiyaki. Haven’t had either in so long.”

“An interesting combination, but I’ll see what I can do. Just relax for now, feel free to hangout in the living room. I got a TV and some books. Do whatever you feel, though.” he grinned at you. Patting the doorway before turning to walk away.

“Giran?” you called out to him.

“Yes?” he replied putting himself back into view.

“Thank you, for everything. I hope I can make it up to you one day.”

“Don’t worry about that now doll, all I care about is keepin’ you safe.” he smiled a genuine smile, which you returned. It was nice to be surrounded by so much hospitality and kindness. He stepped away from the door frame once again to let you do whatever it is you wanted to do. That night you both shared a meal, chatted, and went to bed. He let you take some books into the guest bedroom for you to read whenever you wanted. You felt at ease, like you were finally safe and grounded. You didn’t have to rely on Tomura for anything anymore, you had yourself. 

Even though deep down, you missed him. It had been ages since he last held you, kissed you, or even looked at you properly-- but you still missed it. All of it. You wondered if he was doing okay, if he was still with her, or if he even cared if you left. Honestly, you doubted it, he probably would’ve taken a couple days to even realize something was even slightly off. You didn’t regret your decision, but part of you would always miss him. 

Always, and forever, love him.

--

Over the next month or so, the routine was generally the same. Giran learned about what Tomura had done to you and why you were homeless. He decided to let you work with him in his office, you mostly would just organize his files, greet clients (usually ones he needed help convincing because you were the little office eye candy), cleaning around the office, and just overall being his assistant. He respected you, cared for you, and got you back to your feet-- without expecting a thing from you. The two of you were growing closer, and you were nothing but thankful to him. Sometimes the two of you would dress up super fancy to go to meetings for very high up clients who couldn’t be seen anywhere near where Giran worked out of safety for the two of them. It was a quite relaxing life, and you were growing used to everything. 

There you sat in your usual spot in Giran’s office, filing some paperwork that needed to be put away. Your office was a little room attached to Giran’s main office, small but comfortable. You’d spend most of the day in there until it was lunch time, or special cases where he needed your charm to make a client more comfortable. You were lost in the groove of the routine that often came with these tasks, listening to the music playing from your laptop speaker that was low enough to be able to hear anyone talking, and not be heard by anyone but you. From time to time stopping to play with the button on your blouse. Giran insisted that you dressed formally for the job, which consisted in business formal attire. Like right now, you were wearing a black button up blouse, dark maroon pencil skirt, tights, and black mary-jane high heeled shoes. A cute little choker chain on your neck to show some more class, and matching simple earrings. You looked formal enough to be doing the job, but also cute enough to just go out in the outfit.

After sitting, and filing for what seemed like hours, you decided to stretch. Getting up from your chair, and popping your limbs. Walking into Giran’s office cautiously. You didn’t hear anyone with him, but you never knew. You lightly knocked on the door frame to get his attention, his face was downwards as he read over some documents at his desk. “Hey bossman, how’s it goin’?” You asked him, leaning into the open frame. His head turned towards you away from the desk, a small smile present on his features.

“Good, good. Just readin’ over this real quick. You need me doll?”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself, I just needed a bit of a break, and you also shouldn’t be stretching your neck out like that. You might hurt yourself.” raising your eyebrows playfully. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, it’s almost time for lunch. How about you go out and get us somethin’ to eat? You hungry yet?” he asked pulling a cigarette from his pocket, and placing it on his mouth. Grabbing his metal lighter from the desk to light it, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke slowly out his nose.

“Hmm... maybe, I’d be okay with getting us something.” 

“One sec.” he replied, getting up from his seat to walk to his large trench coat that sat in its place on the coat rack in the corner next to the door. Digging in the pocket of it for something, which he soon found. He took a drag on the cancer stick once more before returning. “Here’s my card.”

“Thanks.” 

“Also, you look beautiful today Y/n.” he admitted, leaning against his desk in front of you.

“Are you implying I don’t look beautiful every other day?” you retorted, feeling your face warm up with bashfulness. 

“Never, doll. Just thought I’d make you smile.” he leaned towards you. Pulling his cigarettes from his lips to press a kiss to you forehead, your stomach fluttering wildly. Sometimes his little affirmations of affection made you go insane, you sometimes wished you had the confidence and stability to just grab his collar, and kiss him. Sure, he was older, but he was attractive. There was no doubt there, and the feelings were mutual. But you assumed neither of you wanted to ruin what was already going on. “Now get on, it might rain within the next hour. Wouldn’t want you to get wet.”

You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek in an assuring way before walking to the coat rack to grab your warm coat. Turning back to him before exiting the office, a soft smile present on your lips, muttering a quick good bye before opening the door. 

--

Soon you were back with take out bags on your hands, coming up upon the door of the office, knocking, before taking a step in. Happy to see Giran again, and eat your lunch. As your eyes registered upon the desk in front of you, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Your hands quickly becoming sweaty as your gripped on to the plastic bags you held on to for dear life. There was that familiar light blue colored mop of hair sitting in the chair adjacent from Giran. He was wearing a black trench coat you hadn’t seen him wear since he exchanged his wardrobe for all of the suits, his back was to you, but even then you could still immediately tell it was him. His voice rang in the air, and died quietly as he recognized Giran’s distressed face. 

“Giran, what...” he asked, but let the words fall off his tongue, turning his head to look into your direction.

Without waiting, you dropped the bags of food on the ground, turning to open the office door. You quickly walked to the elevator, smashing the buttons on the wall to step in, just wanting to get away from him. You were scared to face him, you refused to, and luckily the buttons outside the elevator dinged, and it opened, you looked back to the office to see Tomura opening the door, catching your gaze. “Y/n! Wait! Please!” he called after you as you rushed inside the elevator, smashing the buttons to close. Your arms and legs trembling violently as you waited for the door to close on him.

“Stop! Y/n please let me-- hey stop!” he called after you, his foot steps and voice growing closer as the door began to close. When it almost came to a close, you saw his panicked red iris, he sounded so distressed that it made you almost want to open up the door, and let him in. But at the same time, you were trembling. You knew he worked with Giran, but you never expected to see him again. Giran tried to promise you that, but he also warned that things were unpredictable, and that he would do his best to keep you safe. You felt tears welt up in your eyes that you tried to blink away, knowing that he most likely was going to beat you to the lobby and confront you anyways.

You loved him.

But could you even forgive him?

[karlnapity]

we spent two years together, i thought in made her better.

(tws: death, violence, panic attacks)

jack manifold loses his last life on december sixteenth, and he crawls out of hell on the same day.

he has never stood down. he’s a stubborn bastard and he knows that, and he knows that standing against fucking technoblade is a bad idea, and he doesn’t care, because he won’t let him destroy his home.

technoblade looks him in the eye, laughs in his face, and drives an axe down the center of his skull.

>

he doesn’t quite register dying, doesn’t quite register the feeling of falling to the ground. 

he does register pain. he does register overwhelming panic. he comes to laying on the ground, blood stuck to his scalp and in his eyes, rubble scratching his back. 

he keens in pain, sits up slowly. he rubs his eyes, resting his head in his hands. he thinks, dimly, that everything seems dulled. explosions and screams in the background, the feeling of his hands on his face, the chill in the air. he can hardly feel any of it. he edges himself behind a large piece of rubble, safe from the conflict for now.

panic courses through his veins. what happened? 

he grasps at his arms, curling in on himself. everything feels wrong. everything feels wrong.

his breath quickens as he grows hysterical. tears start to fall as he hiccups, and as they trickle down his face he can barely even feel them.

and then it stops.

his hand flies to his throat. he tries to start breathing again, but as the seconds pass he finds he doesn’t even need it.

oh god, he’s dead. he’s really fucking dead. is he a ghost?

“oh god,” he chokes, curling in even further into himself. 

“hello?” someone else’s voice calls. he doesn’t bother sitting up.

“jack?” the voice continues, then, “oh fuck, jack!”

someone touches his arm, and he craves the contact. he can still hardly feel it, but he leans into it, arms wrapping around him and holding him so tight it would probably hurt, before.

“i’m so glad you’re ok,” they whisper. who is it? whose voice is that?

“niki.” his voice sounds raspy, contaminated from smoke and tnt and death.

“yes, yes, i’m here,” she chokes, and he can tell, faintly, that she’s crying. “you’re ok.”

he nods into her shoulder. he wants it to be true, but it can’t be. he can barely hear her over the ringing in his ears.

“i thought you were dead, i’ve been looking for you. how long have you been back here? didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

he almost snorts. what can he say? 

her hand moves from his shoulders, cupping around the back of his head. she massages a thumb over the nape of his neck where she used to when he got upset. her thumb brushes over dried blood and he can feel it flake off. 

her hand stills. “jack, you’re so cold. are you ok?”

he coughs. “i’m sorry, niki.”

he pulls back, looks her in the face. her eyes are sad. 

“jack, please tell me what happened. what’s going on?”

“i died,” he breathes. a shiver runs through him as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. oh god, he fucking died. he grasps for purchase on her arms, grounding himself as best he can. she grips him back.

a combination of confusion and horror fills her face. “you didn’t have any lives left, how…”

he shakes his head. a hysterical laugh bubbles from his chest. “i don’t fucking know, niki, i don’t fucking know.”

she cups his face then pulls him into a tight hug. “you’re gonna be ok, jack. we’re gonna be ok.”

>

it’s a hard thing, adjusting to death.

for one, he’s constantly cold. not only his temperature, but also his skin. it’s cold, clammy like a corpse. niki says it feels weird, but he can’t exactly tell. he piles on layers, spends as much time as he can in front of the fire and trying to warm the constant chill in his core, but it doesn’t work. 

he doesn’t breathe anymore. occasionally he’ll hiccup or gasp, as if his brain is trying to kickstart his body again, and he’ll sit in silence for a few minutes while nothing but pure panic floods his brain, telling him something is deeply wrong. the first time it happens, tubbo slams on his back thinking he’d choked, and jack devolves into a vicious panic attack before tubbo even has a chance to realize.

he doesn’t need to eat, and he physically can’t sleep. he didn’t realize how much people slept, before, and now he finds himself sitting on the snowchester porch in the early morning and realizing how lonely the world is.

he can hardly feel much of anything, and he can hear even less. his vision’s gone a bit fuzzy, too. it feels like his senses have started closing in on himself, and it’s terrifying.

the others have adapted, and he’s thankful. if niki comes up behind him, she’ll grab his arm hard, and tubbo will usually pinch him or slap the back of his head so he knows he’s there.

he’s decided not to tell tubbo. the kid doesn’t deserve that. he doesn’t need to know, long as jack doesn’t start falling apart like some sort of zombie. he’s pretty sure tubbo just thinks he’s traumatized, or that he’s lost some of his hearing from explosions like tubbo has.

and, well, he’s not exactly wrong.

>

it’s niki who starts it. they’re sitting around the fireplace, jack as close as he can get to try to get rid of the chill, and she says,

“you know, when you think about it, it’s all kind of tommy’s fault.”

resentment has been festering since tommy killed him, so he’s not exactly shocked, just curious. “what d’you mean?”

“he’s caused so much trouble on the server, and now he’s just gotten away with it.” niki sounds angry, and when she sounds angry it’s never good, so he turns to look her in the eye. she’s practically shaking. “he needs to suffer for it like we did.”

when he was alive, he woke up from nightmares almost every night of drowning in lava, of burning while tommy laughed and sneered and laughed, and now it only solidifies. he hates him. 

it’s tommy’s fault he’s dead. if tommy hadn’t killed him, he wouldn’t be dead now. 

niki stumbles to her feet and falls to her knees in front of him, pulling him into a desperate hug. 

he’s not sure if he can cry anymore, but the feeling’s there all the time as he clings to niki, grasping tightly to her shirt, and she pulls his head to her shoulder, curls around him protectively.

they stay there for a long time. every once in a while, niki will murmur an assurance. after long enough the words mutate, transform into something nasty, slimy. 

“he’ll pay for this.”

>

the nukes are divisive. jack doesn’t want tubbo to get hurt. niki doesn’t want jack to get hurt. they both want tommy to get hurt.

he’s not sure when it changed into “kill him.” he’s not sure when it turned from a want to yell, to hit, to wanting to destroy him with nukes, but the anger is fire deep in his chest, the only thing he can feel, and he wants it to continue burning.

niki says she doesn’t want jack to get hurt. 

“it’s not like i can get more dead,” he sneers. he doesn’t want to hurt her. he wants to hurt everyone.

>

tubbo can tell there’s something wrong. he can tell it in the way he rests his hand on jack’s back, even when he can’t feel it, in the way he stays up late and gets up early to spend time with him.

he comes up behind him, early one morning, and wraps his arms around jack’s chest. he buries his head in jack’s back and squeezes him tight. jack jumps at first, but soon relaxes into the content.

he can’t hear tubbo’s sobs, as quiet as they are, but he can almost feel the shaking of his shoulders.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, hesitant in case he’s reading it wrong. tubbo could be laughing, for all his addled senses can tell, but he deep down he knows. he can barely hear tubbo’s reply.

“i’m worried something is going to happen to you.”

something has already happened, he wants to yell. you just missed it.

he knows, faintly, that it’s not tubbo’s fault. tubbo doesn’t know, because he’s never told him, but he wants someone to focus on him, for once. he wants someone to realize, without him telling them. he wants someone to pay attention.

tubbo’s not that person. tubbo has friends, and a nation or two, and a history that extends beyond ‘stay alive.’ 

he pulls away, gently, promises something or other about him being fine, and goes back to planning destruction. 

>

their plan doesn’t work. tommy shows up only thirty seconds late, while the crater is still smoking. 

jack can’t help but feel like the universe is working against him.

niki is fuming. she’s shaking in anger, standing at the edge of the crater and staring at it, and jack goes to put his hand on her shoulder. she pulls away.

>

niki comes to join him on the porch that night. he doesn’t know she’s there until she says,

“why do you spend so much time out here?”

he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s comforting, being out in the cold, alone when he knows everyone is safe inside. he’s become a sentry almost accidentally, taking care of the only two people in the world he still cares about. he doesn’t know how to explain how comforting and devastating it is, and he doesn’t know how to explain that the cold calms him, so he just shrugs. she always understands him, anyways, or so he hopes.

she doesn’t stay outside for long. 

>

he wonders, sometimes, if he’s doing something wrong. tommy and tubbo are still friends, somehow, even after everything. jack doesn’t know how to ask if tommy’s ever apologized. tubbo’s always had a heart too painfully big, so he kind of doubts it. 

tommy’s never apologized to him. he’s not sure if he’d ever accept it.

he watches puffy and niki get pulled apart, and cringes a bit more each time niki comes home crying. he doesn’t know how to ask her if she still thinks they’re in the right. 

he can tell she’s not sure either. maybe none of them are.

>

puffy approaches him one day. it’s her first time visiting snowchester, and her white first gleams in the sunlight reflecting off the snow. he’s at his usual post, and he gives her a half-hearted wave as he sees her.

she returns it, but her face is grim. she comes to stand beside him.

“i know what you’re trying to do,” she says, quietly, and he has to strain to hear her. he pretends he didn’t all the same. 

“sorry. hearing loss.”

she gives him a look, but raises her voice all the same. “niki says it’s a bit more than that.”

he balks, stumbles back a few feet on the wood of the porch and almost his balance. puffy reaches out and steadies him. “pardon?”

“i’m sorry about what happened to you, jack,” she starts. he can’t tell what emotions he’s feeling, but it’s overwhelming. he tries to think of something to say, but she continues before he can force the words out.

her hand on his wrist twists, and he tries to pull it away when he realizes she’s searching for his pulse. she holds on, then her face tightens and she yanks him into a hug.

they’ve had hardly more than two conversations, but he feels safe in her embrace. he holds on tight, and she runs a hand through his short-shaven hair.

“i know you’re hurting,” she says, and he knows he’s made a mistake.

>

jack finds tommy back near l’manburg. it took him a couple more weeks to even gather up the courage, but eventually he spoke to niki. 

he tries not to think about the conversation.

tommy seems surprised to see him, but they settle at the edge of the crater. 

tommy looks better than the last time he saw him. he tries not to be jealous.

“i think i owe you an apology,” he says. tommy balks.

“what? i owe you an apology,” he comes back with. “i fucking killed you!”

“i tried to kill you too,” he starts, but tommy cuts him off.

“it was kinda deserved. can we just agree not to anymore?” he sticks out his hand.

jack smiles. 

snowchester seems warmer, that night.

[waiting-for-motivation]

the archangel on her shoulder

summary: Gabriel finally found his meaning of life - to care and protect the youngest Winchester no matter what it may cost.

request: I was thinking about something where Gabriel has always taken care of the reader since he was little, and now that she can hunt with her brothers, and one day she almost dies, and he cries sadly, but everything is fine. ~ @tinnyes

pairings: Gabriel x Winchester!Reader, Sam, Dean, Cas, John

warnings: fluff and angst, PLATONIC BTW

words: 1193

a/n: sorrry that you had to wait so long for the fic but I still hope you like it :)

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

The day she was born, Gabriel felt something pull at his wings. It felt as if his heart longed to be somewhere else - to be with someone. At first, he managed to ignore this strange longing but soon his emotions overwhelmed the archangel and every movement hurt him.

So he spread out his golden wings and flew where his heart wanted to be. He found himself in a nursery, in front of a crib. The baby inside was crying and staring at him with her innocent eyes. At that moment he knew what pulled at him. He needed to be with this child. He needed to protect her at all costs.

Since that day he never left (Y/n)s side, always there and always watchful. Gabriel managed to hide himself from every human eye besides her. He calmed her down when she was crying at night, cradling her to his chest even before her mother could have woken up from her sleep. The archangel helped (Y/n) grow up without getting hurt once.

What made the archangel proud and happy at the same time was that (Y/n)s first word was his name. It was not ma or dada. It was Gabe. Her mother was confused because she did not recognise his name as a word at first. But then (Y/n) said it over and over again and made the archangel very happy.

For the little girl it was always her mother and the friendly man with the golden wings. There was no father for a long time. Until John Winchester turned up at the little familys door step. He was around for a hunt and remembered (Y/n)s mother with which he slept the last time he was there.

John Winchester did not look really impressed or surprised when he set his eyes on the little girl. Actually, he did not show any emotions. (Y/n) was currently laughing at the stupid face Gabriel made when John entered the kitchen. And Gabriel as recognised him, he immediately understood why he felt that pull towards (Y/n) years ago.

(Y/n) was the youngest Winchester, just like he was the youngest archangel. And the girl will have to watch her brothers fight and kill each other - just like Gabriel.

Whenever John Winchester returned over the next years, Gabriel felt something ache inside him. He did not like the man and the worst was seeing him interact with his little girl. He may be her biological father but Gabriel knew that he would never love her more than the archangel.

The older (Y/n) got, the stranger she found the fact that she could see a man with golden wings. At first, she loved spending time with the archangel and saw him as a brother. She played with him and sometimes even cuddled him at night. Gabriel was the one who taught her how to ride a bike, how to braid her hair and so many other things. Because her mother was slightly overstrained with working, cleaning the house and having to care for a little girl, Gabriel sometimes was the only reason (Y/n) would laugh.

But like every human, (Y/n) grew up and couldn‘t quiet understand why the archangel was always at her side. That is why Gabriel hid himself from her too. (Y/n) fell asleep one afternoon and the next her friend was gone. The girl was sad but quickly accepted it.

From now on Gabriel watched her from afar, only interacting when he felt like it was necessary. Which was more often the case than he wanted to admit.

Gabriel punished the boys who bullied her in the kindergarten. He almost poisoned the teacher who did not take (Y/n) seriously. And the archangel tortured the boys who teased her in college.

During her last year of college, (Y/n)s mother died. She got killed by a shapeshifter which had almost killed the girl too if she had not had an archangel on her shoulder. That day Gabriel showed himself to her for the first time in years. To his surprise, (Y/n) hugged him and sighed happily his name. She remembered him as clear as the day.

They stuck together since then, meeting the Winchester brothers and moving inside the bunker even though Sam and Dean wanted no trickster inside their home. But (Y/n) convinced them that Gabriel can be a big help and is her friend.

Gabriel did everything to protect (Y/n) from the dangerous job the Winchesters do but eventually the girl wanted to be a hunter too. She wanted to avenge her mothers death and help people.

Saving people. Hunting things. The family business.

And that‘s how they ended up here: in a vampire nest. At first the little family (Sam, Dean, Cas, (Y/n) and Gabriel) thought it was a small nest but now that they are standing in front of what looks like more than a dozen vampires, they see their mistakes.

The hunters jump at the vampires and behead them quickly. Gabriel is always at (Y/n)s side, protecting her like he is supposed to but then one particular nasty vamp comes at the archangel from behind. The vampire pulls Gabriel to the ground and away from his little girl.

It happens too fast for Gabriel and the other hunters to notice. They are all in their separate fights. No one notices (Y/n) getting hurt.

When Gabriel manages to kill his vampire, all the fights have already stopped. The hunters won. They have smiles on their lips until they look at the only female in the hut. (Y/n) presses her hands against her stomach and blood runs from her nose and mouth. Her eyes meet Gabriels for one second, then she falls to the floor.

Every one runs to the hurt girl and tries to help her. Gabriel is the first at her side and stares at her with tears in his eyes. He can‘t lose her. She is what makes him whole and happy.

The archangel places his hands on her stomach to heal her, already fearing that it‘s too late. Now the tears run over his face, and he can‘t control his feelings.

���Come on, cupcake. We can do this!“, he says and doesn`t know if he says it to calm down (Y/n) or himself.

A glow envelops the girls stomach and the next moment the only thing reminding her of her pain, is the blood on her shirt. Gabriel sighs relieved and helps (Y/n) sitting up. She is still weak but not weak enough to deny him a hug. Gabriel feels her warmth which calms him down.

Sam, Dean and Cas are still kneeling next to the two, not knowing what to do or say. At least, they were about to lose a family member. They are as relieved as Gabriel.

“Thanks for being the archangel on my shoulder“, (Y/n) whispers after parting from Gabriel. She smiles at him while she wipes off every single tear from his face.

[mikerickson]

What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that. Oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell.

Going into this book, I had a very surface level knowledge of "noir" as a genre, mostly gleamed from pop cultural osmosis. I liked the idea of what I thought this era of crime fiction was, and this particular title came up often as a strong example of the genre so I decided to give it a shot.

This is the first time in a long while I've picked up an "old" book outside of the literary classics you're forced to read in school. I knew going into it to expect it to be dated, and it very much is a product of its time; damn near every character is smoking indoors in every scene, multiple instances of drinking right before getting behind the wheel of a car, lusty women get slapped when being uncooperative, etc. The f-slur gets dropped a few times which was pretty jarring for me as a gay man, and there is a scene where the main character beats up a gay man (who, admittedly had brazenly committed a murder in just the previous chapter, so he kinda had it coming). On a lighter note, characters always said "okey" instead of "okay" among other strange turns of phrase that helped with the immersion of this now bygone era.

That said, this book absolutely did have what I was looking for, and in droves: rainy city streets where danger lurked around every corner, shifty characters you didn't know if you could trust, crooked cops and illicit venues hiding just behind the veneer of civilized society. I felt like I was getting hit over the head with trope after trope, but what would come across as trying too hard in a contemporary work felt natural here - that's just how things were back then.

The book is written in first person and sticks with one character throughout, who I unfortunately felt like came off as a bit of a Mary Sue. He never got flustered in tense situations (more than once he was unarmed and stared down the barrel of a gun in stride) and somehow all his gambles and leaps of logic always panned out in his favor. I know a protagonist has to be competent enough to move a story along, but I wish it felt more earned here. The story itself made up for it with enough twists and turns to keep me invested. The final reveal in the last two chapters felt like it came out of left field, like something I as a reader was never expected to piece together on my own, but I had so much fun in the middle of the book that I'm willing to overlook it.

I came into this book wanting to like it and came out the other side feeling satisfied enough to say that I did. What Raymond Chandler may have lacked in overall narrative structure he more than made up for in his prose with some of the best metaphors that I honestly should've done a better job writing down so I could include them here. Approach this book with the mentality that it is a dated-yet-authentic take on noir and you'll have a great time with it.

[its-me-jessi]

Love Finds Its Way PT1

Pairing: Ivar X Reader

Summary: One day Y/N comes upon her first love she hasn’t seen in a long time since they went separate ways. She remembers how they came to meet each other for the first time. Back then he was a noble boy and she was the daughter of a pirate.

A/N: To be honest I had the idea to this story a long time ago but never really put it into writing until today. I really wanted to share it with you, and I hope you like it as well as I do. ☺🤗 I’d really appreciate any kind of feedback. Feel free to leave comments or reblog. 😊🧡

Part 2

"My name is Ivar." Ivar.

Tonight, the pub was particularly well visited. Everyone was holding a jug of beer and at least one woman to sweeten up their evening and night with. It wasn’t rarely seen that one woman was desired simultaneously by several men and that this desire degenerated into a fight between eager men. Only one could sleep with her tonight and who was better suited than the one with the most stamina and the greater strength. So, for a woman they fought loudly in one corner of the run-down pub, while in the other corner one beer was emptied after the other. The men chatted and often broke out in loud laughter, which even drowned out the music of the minstrels. The whole pub was filled with screams, laughter and music. It was a miracle that despite all the noise I got to overhear the conversation between the captain and a young man. Ivar. It seemed like this name made me keen-eared, because all of a sudden, all the noise became silent around me and I focused my attention on nothing, but the man named Ivar.

I moved inconspicuously away from the crew to another place that offered me a better view, a better view of his face. I had to see his face, his moves, his eyes. However, I didn’t want him to see me, which is why I hid behind a pole. I moved a bit to the side to have a better view of him. Immediately, I recognized him. It was Ivar, my Ivar, my great love. In all these years he hasn’t changed at all. But he is stronger than before, at least as far as I could tell by looking at his upper arms and chest. Shortly after I looked back into his distinctive face. It’s been way too long since I last saw his face, saw his full lips and could look him straight in the eyes. Into these beautiful blue eyes that shine in the light. I've always been enchanted by them since the moment I first saw him. How he looked up to me when I grabbed his hand to keep him from drowning. We were both so little and young when we first met.

I was only twelve years old when I went on board of a huge pirate ship for the first time. Everything was so exciting, especially the fact that I was forbidden to enter the ship, especially when it’s supposed to run in the sea shortly afterwards. Although my dad, the captain of the crew, always forbid me to sail with them because in his eyes I was too young, I found a way to evade the prohibition.

As it was getting darker, I climbed out of my window, careful to not make a sound. I tiptoed along the road down to the port, here and there hiding from my dad’s crew members and especially him. Engulfed in darkness, I ran to the ship unnoticed. Now that I was right in front of it, it looked even bigger than before. The view of this huge ship didn’t scare me as much as it made me more curious than I already was. I imagined it to be a whole new world that I really wanted to explore, and nothing stopped me anymore, except maybe the men doing their laps on board. That was the last obstacle that had to be overcome. All I had to do was to get past them unnoticed and hide quickly, and then I would have officially made it.

I sighed, already imagining my plan popping like a soap bubble before my eyes as the entrance was suddenly left completely unguarded for a moment. After I took the chance and ran on board I realized why. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who snuck on board. The son of another crew member was on board as well. It seemed like he has been hiding on board all day long. Somebody must have discovered and exposed him, since he was now facing the team in need of explanation. The incident drew the attention of the entire crew to the boy and it helped me to sneak on board. I had to thank the boy later on, even if he hadn't knowingly helped me.

Now I was finally on board of a ship, not knowing what kind of ship it actually was. Until that day, I always thought my dad was doing legal work.

The ship sailed out further and further, there was no land in sight anymore. My home was now miles away, which scared me a bit, because it was the first time for me being so far away from home and my familiar surroundings. Everything on board was new to me. My father was the only one I knew. I sure had spoken to a few men from his crew before, but they were still strangers to me. The ship's command, the tasks that the crew had to do on board were all new to me and still difficult to understand. I just watched curiously as the men were doing their job. At that time, my father steered the boat, I assumed. I wasn't sure, because I couldn't see him. He was on the deck above me and I didn't dare leave my hiding place to see if I was right in my assumption. I preferred to stay hidden and hardly move at all not to draw anyone's attention to me. It was far too exciting to experience life on board close up without anyone stopping me. I just had to make sure that it stayed that way.

Loud euphoric roars awoke me from my deep sleep. After a few hours of curious observation and amazement, I fell asleep hidden under the stairs. Apparently, it seemed like I didn't have slept very long since it was still pitch-black outside. Before I fell asleep, the crew and the sea was very calm and reassuringly peaceful. To be honest, I was scared of being attacked by pirates. Often as a child, I picked up stories about pirates that scared me. At the time, of course, I had no idea that I would one day witness these stories up close.

I looked through the stairs and saw another ship approaching ours slowly and carefully causing an uproar among the crew. The waves carried it through the sea, drawing it closer and closer until it was within ultimate reach. I watched the approaching ship attentively as well as fearfully and the people who, thanks to the lighting on board, were easy to recognize in the dark. That's not how I imagined pirates to look like. They were well dressed, far more noble than my father's crew, himself included. As they sailed past us, there was pure fear reflecting on their faces. None of them moved from the spot and I didn't understand why? Confused, I looked at the crew of the ship on which I was hiding. Unlike the strangers, they didn't look even a little bit scared. Many of them even had a grin on their faces, a cheeky and sneaky one. This nasty facial expression exactly met my expectations of a pirate. Was I wrong about my father? Was he one of the pirates I have always feared?

Slowly the ship drifted past us and a certain relief rose up in me, but it didn’t last long, because suddenly my father's deep voice rang out and I was startled. On command, some of the crew disappeared below deck and the next thing I heard was a loud bang closely followed by the sound of a hard collision and the sound of broken wood. Loud cries filled with terror and pain were heard. Three more loud bangs followed, and the screaming grew louder and louder. When I dared to step out from under the stairs and looked at the foreign ship, I witnessed how the ropes of the ship broke and the masts tilted. The ship was quite a bit larger than ours, but slower, especially now due to the damage it had suffered, so our ship could catch up with it quickly.

I was in shock and I clawed fearfully on a stair step. I couldn't believe what was happening in front of my eyes and I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do but watch the situation in disbelief. People died under the weight of the collapsing masts. Their screams rang out in my ears and made me feel their pain. My eyes wandered along the falling mast and a boy dangling from the ceiling caught my eye. He only held on with one hand and looked fearfully down into the sea. I sincerely hoped the railing would hold him, but on the contrary, individual parts of the ship kept breaking off and with them the boy fell into the deep water, which tore me out of my shock. I have to help him somehow. Without thinking about it any longer, I stormed to the unoccupied side of the ship. The crew gathered on the opposite side facing the doomed ship and its workforce. I looked at the crew, who are busy with rejoicing over the strangers' suffering and did not notice how I jumped over the railing. I had learned to swim at a very young age. My mother insisted: "In deep waters it saves you and others from the painful death, so don't be frightened and swim, my child." As I looked around, above and below the surface of the sea for the boy, her words came to my mind. The painful death. I wanted and had to protect the boy from it. And there he was! He came back to the surface and fought for every little bit of oxygen he could get. I didn't have much time before he goes down again, so I looked around for parts of the ship big enough to carry us both. Fortunately, I quickly noticed a wooden panel that was just big enough for him and me.

I swam as fast as I could and grabbed the wooden board before it drifted away. From that time on every second counted. I swung myself onto the driftwood and paddled with my little hands to the place where I had just seen the boy. Pure panic arose in me and the thought of being late spread inside my body because for a moment he was nowhere to be found but suddenly, a hand had grabbed the driftwood and my feelings told me it was the boy. I grabbed his second hand, which came out from under the water, and helped him to the surface. At first, he just looked at me surprised before he pulled himself onto the wooden plate to join me. Totally exhausted and out of breath he knelt on all fours, coughing and panting. He must have swallowed a lot of water. I wanted to help him so bad, but I hardly knew how. Primitively, I just patted him lightly on the back, hoping it would do him good. In fact, he stopped coughing. Instead, he stared up in a trance at the ship he belonged to. He too heard the roar and the screams and had to watch how many, with whom he had traveled and were possibly very close to, had already died or were still dying. Including his father. He had saved his son's life before he was killed by the mast along with all the other brave men. The shock was still deeply felt in both of us as we watched the crew of my father and he himself boarding the ship and killing the rest of the survivors to get to the valuable treasure. That's exactly how I imagined pirates to be. Insidious bastards who care more for gold than for actual human beings. I would have never thought that my own father was a pirate.

Slowly the excruciating screams stopped and what remained was the victorious roar of the crew and that of my father. Only now did I notice the skull, bright in the moonlight, which adorned the pirates' flag.

I remember how cold and uncomfortable it was that night. The waves drove our wooden panel further and further away from the scene and further out to the sea. Far and wide there was no land in sight and the freezing cold air made us shudder again and again. Our clothes were soaked to the skin. We were cold, had nothing to warm us up with and there was still nothing to look forward to. We were so young and only had ourselves. My loneliness was self-inflicted, but this boy was unintentionally separated from his family from one second to the next. I felt terribly sorry for him, and instead of my father, I felt guilty. If my father hadn't come upon their ship, his father would still be alive, he would be on board of the ship and could return home all safe and sound. Now he was anything but happy. He sat next to me, completely withdrawn. We have been drifting through the sea for hours, which seems to have no end and we still haven't spoken a word to each other. I had often looked over at him, watched him sit quietly and stare into the darkness as if he could still watch what was happening in the distance. "I'm so sorry for what happened!", he had heard me, I could tell by looking at him, but there was no reaction. If only I could have helped him, I would have done it immediately, but I had no choice but to look at him for another eternity and wait for help, for land or a word from him.

“It's rude to stare at someone like that,” I heard him speak for the first time in hours and was immediately ashamed of my behavior. He was right, it was not appropriate, my mother had taught me this lesson once before. I immediately apologized and looked away from him. I had been looking at him for hours, looking in his blue eyes that shone even in the dark. I wasn't ashamed of that, but rather of that he had noticed. "My name is Ivar and what's your name?" He asked me and looked over at me. His first movement since we were on this puny wooden board. At first, I was a little bit surprised that he was talking to me, but then I enjoyed the conversation. I immediately felt less lonely and hoped he felt the same way. "My name is Y/N! I'm glad to meet you, Ivar!”, I smiled sincerely at him and to my surprise he returned the smile. "Thank you for saving my life", I just smiled and with that we fell silent again. Neither of us spoke a word, we were too preoccupied with our thoughts. When will we see land? Will we die out here?

Thank you so so much for reading! Stay safe! 😇🧡

[beholdingslut]

“You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of the nastiness now. Far more a part of it than Rusty Regan was.”

Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep

[alonggoodbye]

// I couldn't help it, I had to try and make Cillian in BG3. Couldn't quite get him right. He's too old (and too attractive lol)

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 6

(Y/n)'s POV

Once I get over the fact that my brother's Latin teacher was half horse, we have a nice tour.

We pass by the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudge each other. One points to the Minotaur horn Percy is carrying. Another says, "It's them."

Most of the campers are older than me. Their satyr friends are bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD t-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. I'm not normally shy, but the way they are staring at me and Percy makes me uncomfortable. I feel as though they want us to do a flip or something.

I look back at the farmhouse. It's bigger than I'd realized - four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I'm checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something catches my eyes, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I get a distinct impression that I'm being watched.

"What's up there?" I ask Chiron.

He looks to where I'm pointing and his smile fades, "Just the attic."

"Somebody lives there?" Percy asks.

"No," he says with finality. "Not a single living thing."

I get the feeling that he's being truthful, but I am also sure something had moved that curtain.

As we get closer, I realize how huge the forest is. It takes up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

Chiron says, "The woods are stocked if you care to try your luck, but go armed."

"Stocked with what?" Percy asks. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own swords and shields?"

"My own - ?" Percy is cut off.

"No," Chiron interupts. "I don't suppose you do. I think a size five will do for you, Percy, and a size three for you, (Y/n). I'll visit the armory later."

Finally, Chiron shows us the cabins. There are twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They are arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on each side. And they are, without a doubt the most bizarre number above the door.

Except for the fact that each has a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they lock absolutely nothing alike. Number Nine has smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number Four has tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seems to be made of solid gold, which gleams so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all face a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field is a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it is a warm afternoon, the hearth smolders. A girl, maybe nine years old is tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. I wave at the girl and she looks surprised, as though no one acknowledged her often, and waves back with a smile.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, look like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin One is the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmer like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seem to streak across them. Cabin Two is more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls are covered with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" Percy guesses.

"Correct," Chiron says.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."

I stop in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.

It isn't high and mighty like Cabin One, but low and solid. The outer walls are of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashells and coral as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. I peek inside the open doorway and Chiron says, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"

Before he can pull me back, I catch the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk. The interior walls glow like abalone. There are six empty bunks with silk sheets turned down, but there is no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place feels so sad and lonely, I am glad when Chiron puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "Come along, (Y/n)."

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red—a real nasty paint job as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on Percy and gives him an evil sneer.

"Oh, look," Chiron says as we approach Cabin Eleven. "Annabeth is waiting for us."

The blond girl I'd met at the Big House is reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven. When we reach her, she looks me over critically, like she was still thinking about how much I drool.

I try to see what she was reading, but I can't make out the title. Then I realize the title isn't even English. The letters look Greek to me. I mean, literally Greek. There are pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book.

"Annabeth," Chiron says, "I have Masters' Archery class at noon. Would you take Percy and (Y/n) from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin Eleven," Chiron tells us, gesturing towards the doorway. "Make yourself at home."

Out of all the cabins, Eleven looks the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on old. the threshold is worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway is a caduceus.

Inside, it is packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags are spread all over the floor. It looks like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center.

Chiron doesn't go in. The door is too low for him. But when the campers see him, they all stand and bow respectfully.

"Well, then," Chiron says. "Good luck, Percy, (Y/n). I'll see the two of you at dinner."

He gallops away towards the archery range.

Percy's POV

We stand in the doorway, looking at the kids. They aren't bowing anymore. They are staring at us, sizing us up. I know this routine. I'd gone through it at enough schools.

"Well?" Annabeth prompts. "Go on."

So naturally, I trip coming in the door, and (Y/n) grabs my upper arm, straightening me up. There are some snickers from the campers, but none of them say anything.

Annabeth announces, "Percy and (Y/n) Jackson, meet Cabin Eleven."

"Regular or undetermined?" somebody asks.

I don't know what to say, but Annabeth says, "Undetermined."

Everyone groans.

A guy who is a little older than the rest comes forward. "Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy, (Y/n). You can have those two spots on the floor, right over there."

The guy was about nineteen, and he looks pretty cool. He's tall and muscular, with short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile. He wears an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals, and a leather necklace with five different colored clay beads. The only thing unsettling about his appearance is a thick white scar that runs from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash.

"This is Luke," Annabeth says, and her voice sounds different somehow. I glance over and swear she's blushing, but after a moment she sees me looking, and her expression hardens again. "He's your counselor for now."

"For now?" (Y/n) asks, looking rather curious.

"You're undetermined," Luke explains. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."

I look around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing me as if they are waiting for a chance to pick my pockets.

"How long will I be here?" I ask.

"Good question," Luke replies. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?"

The campers all laugh and (Y/n) facepalms.

"Come on," Annabeth tells us. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"We've already seen it."

"Come on."

Annabeth grabs my wrist and drags me outside. I can hear the kids of Cabin Eleven laughing behind me and (Y/n) waves good-bye shyly.

When we are a few feet away, Annabeth says, "Jackson, you have to do better than that?"

"What?"

She rolls her eyes and mumbles under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you two were the ones."

"What's your problem?" I'm getting angry now, (Y/n) watching us cautiously. "All I know is, we kill some bull guy -"

"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth tells me. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

"To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"

I shake my head. "Look, if the thing we fought is really the Minotaur, the same one in the stories . . ."

"Yes."

"Then there's only one."

"Yes."

"And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So..."

"Monsters don't die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don't die."

"Oh, thanks. That clears it up."

"Percy," (Y/n) says calmly. "I think what Annabeth is saying, is that monsters eventually reform."

Annabeth nods and I think about Mrs. Dodds. "You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword—"

"The Fur...I mean, your math teacher. That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."

"How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?"

"You talk in your sleep," Annabeth answers and (Y/n) suppresses a laugh.

"You almost called her something. A Fury? They're Hades' torturers, right?"

Annabeth glances nervously at the ground as if she expects it to open up and swallow her. "You shouldn't call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones if we have to speak of them at all."

"Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?" I sound whiny, even to myself, but right then I don't care. "Why do we have to stay in Cabin Eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."

I point to the first few cabins, and Annabeth turns pale. "You don't just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or...your parent."

She stares at me, waiting for me to get it.

"Our mother is Sally Jackson," (Y/n) says softly. "She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to."

"I'm sorry about your mom, (Y/n). But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about your other parent. Your dad."

"He's dead," I say simply. "We never knew him."

Annabeth sighs. Clearly, she'd had this conversation before with other kids. "Your father's not dead."

"How can you say that? You know him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how can you say -"

"Because I know the two of you. You wouldn't be here if you weren't one of us."

"You don't know anything about us.

"No?" She raises an eyebrow. "I bet you moved around from school to school. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them."

"How -"

"Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too."

I try to swallow my embarrassment. "What does that have to do with anything?"

(Y/n)'s POV

"Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course, the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you seeing them for what they are."

"You sound like...you went through the same thing?"

"Most of the kids here did. If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar."

"Ambrosia and nectar."

"The food and drink we were giving you to make you better. That stuff would've killed a normal kid. It would've turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you'd be dead. Face it. You're both half-bloods."

A half-blood.

I am reeling with so many questions I don't know where to start.

Then a husky voice yells, "Well! Two newbies!"

I look over. The big girl from the ugly red cabin is sauntering towards us. She has three other girls behind her, all big and ugly and mean-looking like her, all wearing camo jackets.

"Clarisse," Annabeth sighs. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure, Miss Princess," the big girl says. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."

"Erre es korakas!" Annabeth says, which I somehow understand is Greek for 'Go to the crows!' though I have a feeling it was a worse curse than it sounds. "You don't stand a chance."

"We'll pulverize you," Clarisse says, but her eye twitches. Perhaps she isn't so sure she can follow through on ht threat. She turns towards me, then she looks at Percy. "Who are these's runts?"

"Percy and (Y/n) Jackson," Annabeth says, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Aries."

Percy blinks. "Like . . . the war god?"

Clarisse sneers. "You got a problem with that?"

"No," Percy says, seemingly recovering his 'wits'. "It explains the bad smell."

Long story short, Percy made the toilets explode.

Yeah, I said it. He made the toilets explode . . .

Word Count: 2455 words

[springday-aus]

Superpower!AU with Hyungwon

—

Group: Monsta X

Member: Chae Hyungwon

Genre: fluff, romance, small [very minimal] angst

TW: car accident - don’t worry, no one died 

Type: Bulletpoint AU 

Word Count: approx. 2.8k

→ Inspired by the AU Prompt: “I know you can read minds and I really like you so I’m constantly filtering my thoughts—stop making fun of how I think of fighting giraffes, it’s my go-to when I think about you shirtless” 

so Hyungwon has the power of telepathy

how he got it was rather odd

he wasn’t necessarily born with it—it kind of came to him

despite what people might think, it wasn’t radioactivity

it was actually due to an accident

when he was young, there was a minor encounter

basically, there was a car and semi-truck incident

next thing he knew, his parents were in critical condition and he was being rolled into the ER for surgery

when he woke up, he was in his hospital bed and the ventilator was hooked up to him

he heard the voices of the nurses and the doctors, but their mouths weren’t moving

originally he brushed it off since he hasn’t fully recovered and his vision kept going in and out

but once he did recover… he could still hear them

luckily, his parents were okay

and that was how he was able to confirm his new-found power

he was able to hear theirs first and it was…. insane

he was freaked out, his parents were freaked out 

once they calmed down, they tried to figure out what to do—they eventually came to the conclusion to just let it happen

they can’t control that so they might as well figure it out together 

at first, it was uncontrollable, so he heard these voices whether or not he wanted to hear them

it was always loud and his own thoughts were never heard in his own head

oh, the amount of migraines he’d gotten from a young age…

but, don’t worry, he learned to maintain it as he grew up

now, he’s able to listen whenever he looks at someone and concentrate a bit more

he’s got a better control of it, but it also means he has to be careful as to where he looks bc he doesn’t wanna listen in on someone’s private thoughts

he’s always been getting in trouble when he was trying not to get in trouble when it comes to his telepathy

that tends to happen a lot in general though

because you’re hearing a lot of thoughts that you’re not trying to hear

which is why music became a good route of distraction

at first, the monsta x boys made fun of him for not getting airpods, but, after telling them about his telepathy, they understood why he got those big ass headphones

but, we’ll get to them later

anyways

bruh, high school was extra rough on this man

can you imagine hearing all of those thoughts? especially of hormonal teenage boys?

nasty

anyways

I like to think that this is why he sleeps so much

when he first got it, it was very emotionally draining for him and he slept like twelve hours at a time

unfortunately, he got into this habit and now he can doze off if he zones out enough

he slept a lot in high school, considering that he was trying not to hear his teacher’s thoughts and the other students and focus on the lesson and would end up falling asleep on his desk and then getting in trouble with the teachers

again, it’s that whole getting in trouble without meaning to get into trouble

so anyways

his family are the main people who know and god

the amount of family tea he’s gotten from his parents’ thoughts

while he does hate being able to hear all these thoughts without a choice, his favorite is the family gatherings and reunions

homeboy could make a tv novella with all the information he’s got on his family

because his immediate family are the ones who know, whereas his cousin that’s like twice removed doesn’t, but that’s justifiable

also, his parents have to be careful when they’re talking about him or his younger brother tho

(Hyungwon: “dad, am I not your favorite?”

his dad: “I don’t have have favorites”

Hyungwon: “the lies”)

other than his family, his long time friends also know, i.e. the monsta x boys

I’m talking long term because he’s so comfortable with them and Hyungwon was stupid and let it slip

Jooheon: I know we agreed on Chinese but I kind of wanted pizza

Hyungwon: “we can get both if you want”

Jooheon: “get what?”

Hyungwon: wait a second

oh, whenever they play games, Hyungwon uses this telepathy to help him cheat

and Changkyun was suspicious of how Hyungwon, the guy who falls asleep 20 minutes into a movie, had such good gaming tactics

his suspicions were confirmed when Hyungwon told them but they all also lowkey were confused and didn’t believe him, altho it did fill in a few of the gaps

like how Hyungwon gives perfect gifts for people that they can actually use

and how he can easily solve issues before they can even become bigger issues

there were just bits and pieces that came together and he did get to prove it

Kihyun: “what am I thinking about?”

Hyungwon: “I don’t think you would want me to say it in front of our Minhyuk here”

Kihyun: …… “okay, you pass”

but revealing this also means a lot of questions

especially from Minhyuk, who’s bouncing around and is curious as to how it works

and isn’t like always being verbally asked

like, the questions will just pop into their heads and Hyungwon hears it

actually what he hears is

Minhyuk: can he hear animal thoughts?

Minhyuk: do they speak English? or do they speak in that animal sound?

Minhyuk: should I ask him? or am I going to be bothering him?

Minhyuk: okay, try to be casual and slip it in and-

Hyungwon: “I can only hear people’s thoughts, now can we please get on with the meal?”

Minhyuk: oh right he can hear mine

Hyungwon: “YES I CAN HEAR IT PLEASE BE QUIET”

Wonho: …. “what’s going on????”

this is why he favors you compared to the others

you’re curious, but not like super curious like Minhyuk

but it’s also because your thoughts are the most hilarious ones

it’s primarily because you censor a lot of your thoughts with other thoughts and they are….. eccentric

there’s a reason tho

long story short: you like him

you two are basically childhood friends

you met in middle school and woke him up before he could get in trouble and it was all history from there

it wasn’t until around the college years that the feeling hit you like a ton of bricks

and when it did hit, you were lucky Hyungwon wasn’t around to read your thoughts

because……... oof

he went from that kid with acne that you used to spray water at to keep awake

to a handsome young man that makes your heart pound so loudly in your chest

he had told you about these powers of his about a year into college, when he realized you weren’t going to disappear from his life so easily

but also because you were thinking about how the fbi is definitely listening in on your conversations because you got an ad on instagram about those sleeping bags that make it look like you were being eaten by a shark and he HAD to make a comment

Hyungwon: “dude what the fuck”

You: “what?”

Hyungwon: “how bad is your anxiety that you’re worried about the fbi agent in your phone?”

You: …… **narrows eyes** “I didn’t say anything about an fbi agent”

Hyungwon: ah shit, here we go again

anyways

that’s just a small glimpse of what Hyungwon has to hear

your thoughts were hilarious to tune into, to the point where Hyungwon listens in when you’re daydreaming and it’s like his news for the day

and it only got worse (at least for you) because you were constantly censoring your thoughts after your self-discovery of your feelings for him

you two were studying in the library one time for finals and he got real close to get a good look at the textbook to see where you were

and you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was

but when he looked at you

you immediately switched your thoughts to think about that time Wonho choked on his ramen noodles

Hyungwon: “why are you thinking about Wonho choking?”

You: “because it’s funny?”

Hyungwon: …… “fair point”

and so now, you have something to turn to each time an incident happens

whenever he says something that makes your heart flutter, you think about Ted Bundy’s yellow buggy

whenever he makes you unconsciously jealous, you think about fat cats sitting on glass tables

you have something for everything

and Hyungwon has no idea because you’ve gotten so fucking good at hiding it

until one day, you were out with the boys, trying out this new restaurant that opened beside the river

Jooheon talks about how nice it would be nice to go to the beach sometime

Shownu tries to start plans and says y’all could plan a barbeque and make a whole trip out of it

but then Kihyun whines, saying he’s not ready because he hasn’t gone to the gym in a month

Wonho: “you haven’t gone to the gym period”

Kihyun: “better than me living there like you do”

Wonho: “and who’s the one with the abs?”

Kihyun: “son of a bitch”

that got you thinking

Hyungwon? on the beach? that means he’s just gonna chill on the side

but that also means….. a shirtless Hyungwon

Shownu: “what do you think (y/n)?”

You: “nothing, absolutely nothing”

Hyungwon looks over at you with a knowing look in his eyes

You: “what?”

Hyungwon: ………….. “why are you thinking about fighting giraffes?”

Minhyuk: “.... is that really what (y/n)’s thinking?”

Changkyun: “dude”

You: “sorry for thinking about the zoo?”

Hyungwon: “we were talking about the beach, why were you thinking about the zoo?”

You: god, I wanna die

Hyungwon: “well, are you going to die before or after the beach trip?”

Shownu: “we need to keep track of the body count, (y/n), this is important” 

sometimes you also wonder why you like him when these moments occur

but then he gives you that smile and you think to yourself

it do be like that 

and because you all are trying to plan out the beach trip, you couldn’t stop thinking about…. shirtless Hyungwon

therefore 

starts up more thoughts about fighting giraffes ensue

and more teasing on behalf of Hyungwon to you

Hyungwon: “do you wanna go to the zoo instead???? is that why you keep thinking about these giraffes????”

You: I. want. to. die.

Hyungwon: “you’ll die if you join the fighting giraffes—oW OWW OKAY I’LL SHUT UP”

the nonstop teasing for weekkkkkksss

until he finally asks you, the day before the trip

Hyungwon: “seriously, are you upset that we went out to the beach instead of the zoo?”

You: ugh, this whole ass man keeps making fun of me for thinking about fighting giraffes, this is your fault for being so fucking attract-

You: WONH O CHOKI NG ON RAMEN

Hyungwon: “WHOA NO FINISH YOUR THOUGHT”

You: NO

You: WONHO. CHOKING. LALALALLALA-

you avoided him for the rest of the day and filled your head with more censored thoughts

so he couldn’t hear anything else

and he didn’t

homeboy was left so confused because

he really likes having you as a friend but

having you as a partner would be so much better

he’s liked you since high school

hearing your thought process and little quirks

he grew fond of them

he knows it’s really invasive, but, in his defense, he was still learning to control them

and he found himself staring at you more and more, accidentally hearing your thoughts

one thing he really hated about his power is that even when he’s just taking in your presence………… he can still hear it even if he doesn’t try to

but anyways

he was sure of his feelings, but didn’t wanna push anything until he was absolutely sure

and now just might be that chance

so, after ducking him the entire day, which is hard to do when he’s trying to find you the entire day

(it’s not that hard considering all he hears from you is “FBI AGENTS GET OUT”)

(at least, that’s what you were trying to think so he doesn’t hear anything else about how you were going to explain yourself)

and he manages to catch you when the boys set up a bonfire and there’s no other spots…… except the one next to Hyungwon

which he totally, 100% did not plan

;)

anyways, you try to distract yourself by focusing your attention the marshmallow you have roasting over the fire

whereas he’s trying to read your mind, but it goes to waste as your attention is solely focused on the marshmallow

hence the tune of IU’s Marshmallow being played in your head

some of the other guys leave the bonfire, either to take a nightly beach stroll or to sleep 

and that left you, Hyungwon, and a melting marshmallow that you were trying to keep from completely burning

before you could flee though, Hyungwon speaks up

Hyungwon: “what? no fighting giraffes?”

You: “I will hit you with a flaming marshmallow”

you thought about it for a second tho, why did you think about fighting giraffes?

the boys were talking about the beach and then they talked about the trip

and the beach made you think about a shirtless Hyungwon

…………. shirtless Hyungwon

FIGHTING GIRAFFES

Hyungwon: “wait what”

You: fuck

You: “fuck”

and then your worst nightmare happens

he starts laughing

You: “sssttttoooppppppp”

You: “it’s my go-to when I think about you shirtless, okay? are you satisfied?”

he keeps laughing

Hyungwon: “do you like the image that much that you have diverted your thoughts from it?”

You: bitch

Hyungwon: “I heard that”

You: “I KNOW YOU DID” 

there’s a bit of a lull and you try to focus on your marshmallow again, but the heat on your face isn’t from the fire alone

Hyungwon: “don’t be embarrassed”

You: “I’m embarrassed because it’s you, idiot”

Hyungwon: “why?”

You: because I like you

Hyungwon: “how dumb of you to think I didn’t feel the same way”

you turn to him

You: really?”

Hyungwon: “yeah really”

Hyungwon: “your marshmallow is burning”

that’s not the only thing burning 

you both assumed that was the night that you both agreed to date

the next day, were the boys shocked that the two of you are dating?

not exactly

bc they knew Hyungwon liked you for quite some time and also the fact that whenever one of them did think you were cute….

let’s just say Hyungwon’s mouth said idc but his eyes said he could murder them and get away with it

also he trusted you enough to tell you about this secret of his, so there was definitely a high chance he was going to develop romantic feelings for you anyways

*cue a sad Minhyuk in the corner somewhere*

KIDDING

or am I

anyways

there isn’t much change to your relationship

other than additional cuddling and pecks here and now

altho there are a couple of changes

your thought processes are more clear because now you have nothing to hide but

they are also unclear because it’s like

Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hyungwon. Hy—

he also tries more and more not to hear your thoughts, but sometimes it’s hard not to hear them, especially as he openly stares at you more and more

but then again, because of that, he’s gaining better and better control of his powers

he lowkey does use it when you get into arguments because it gives him a better understanding of your perspective and that allows him to provide his and it opens up more communication between you two, even if you don’t have telepathy

also he tried to make up for it by saying everything he’s thinking

that was a very bad idea from the start bc you got annoyed really quickly

but you also kind of sympathized with him

You: “I’m sorry you have to hear my thoughts all the time”

Hyungwon: “that’s not your fault”

You: “but that’s not yours either”

he loves being able to talk to you about these things bc it really feels like someone’s in his corner

you try to understand him better and make things easier

whether it’s getting him better headphones

or distracting him with your own obscure thoughts

I’m very sure that anyone who dates Hyungwon in general is going to nap with him so…

many many naps with him with lots and lots of cuddles

you both take care of one another, physically and mentally

especially since you know he isn’t the type that opens himself up to many people

and hearing all of these thoughts, yours and others, must be exhausting for him 

anyways in this household we love and protect Chae Hyungwon bc homeboy is just tired and needs a break 

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

What are ur tilda hcs?

Okay im finally gonna answer this!! Thank you so much for asking!!! I love receiving asks and I love sharing my headcanons. Sorry again it's so late ❤❤❤

This isn't gonna be nearly as well worded and eloquent as I originally planned. The first time I wrote it it basically became a drabble about her life. And then I lost that whole draft. Lmao

I just don't have it in me to recreate that whole thing again but I still wanna share my headcanons about her because I do have a lot!

I also wanna say this is in no way to like... excuse her behavior or try and redeem her. She was a terrible person. But people aren't born terrible. And I like taking 2 dimensional fictional women and making them make sense. So this isn't to excuse but instead to explain? I guess?

cw for all the shit you expect with the minyards by now, but specifically drug addiction and statutory rape. Also this is LONG so its going under a cut.

So first of all, I imagine her and Luther as being half siblings. Their father was a preacher or something- someone with a big role in their church's community and a big reputation of being a reliable, wise, holy man.

When Luther was maybe around 3 years old, there was this teenage girl in the congregation who would often come to Mr. Hemmick for advice, guidance, comfort, etc. She didn't quite fit in in school, wasn't great at academics and struggled to keep up with her siblings achievements, and was overall going through a lot of the turmoil thats unfortunately common for teenagers.

So she, like many people in the congregation, went to Mr Hemmick for guidance and ended up seeing a lot of him. She felt listened to and believed in with him. She felt like he treated her as more mature than the way her family treated her. She trusted him. He abused that.

If you asked her at the time, she would have said it was consensual between them. But she was 16. And when she became pregnant, he turned on her REAL fast lemme tell you. He made her promise not to tell anyone that he was the father, and he only told his wife. And of course, when he told his wife, he talked at length about how this 16 year old girl tempted him to sin; how he regretted it and only hoped she could learn to truly find God.

So he took the child in upon being born as a way to "attone" for what he'd done, but the whole community (not knowing he was the father) just saw it as an act of good will. And of course he'd tout off a lot in his sermons about how he'd be able to give the baby a much better, holier lifestyle than a teenager who turned her back on god by having sex.

So he and his wife end up raising Tilda from birth, but they make sure she knows from the beginning the circumstances of her birth. They drill it into her that her mother was a dirty sinner and that she herself is tainted as a result. She is raised always feeling like she needs to be twice as good to even be considered half as good as her brother in her parents eyes.

Naturally, she stops trying pretty early. In middle school, I imaging her being one of those bullies. The really nasty ones who get violent at their victims for even looking at them wrong. Idk about anyone else, but in my schools growing up the fights between the girls were always way bloodier than the ones between the guys. And I imagine those as the types of fights she got in- especially when one of her victims decides to stand up for themselves by throwing her own baggage back in her face.

By high school, she was thoroughly committed to the role of problem child. She would do everything she could to upset her family and get herself into shit. She'd do drugs, skip classes, show up to school drunk, stay out late, etc. In addition to all this, she would purposefully find whatever guy seemed like the most trouble and take him home. Whether this was the school drug dealer, a boy who got expelled for some rough shit, or college boys who caught her eye at parties.

So she's basically dug this hole for herself where she's committed to actually being the child of sin that her family has always seen her as anyway. The few people who tried to reach out to her wouldn't get far. She would push and push at them to see how far she could stretch their patience (to see how long it took them to give up on her like everyone else).

She even had one teacher who never did give up on her. But she outright told Tilda that she can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. Those words would ring in Tildas ears for years to come, even if she never found it in herself to put the concept into action.

So eventually she'd graduate- just barely because she rarely put in effort in school- and she'd be left to suddenly have to find a place in the world when she previously never even thought she'd have a future. She started batting heads with her family even more (which no one thought was possible at that point) but it became less antagonistic on her end. She was still a shit stirrer, don't get me wrong. But she was getting tired. The fights were less about her being intentionally aggrevating and aggressive and more about her continuously being unable to live up to their expectations.

Luther already had a promising job as a cop at this point, meanwhile she was still living at home and bouncing between jobs that barely kept her afloat and boyfriends that barely made her feel worth something. She'd gotten into drugs in high school, and the habit only got worse now that she was out. It was the only thing that made her feel something other than misery or numbness. She could lose herself in the drugs and the boyfriends and the late nights out. She would come home to see her parents less and less and would speak to them only when absolutely necessary.

Eventually Mr. Hemmick died fairly young (heart attack or something equally as tragic. Whatever I dont care about him enough to pick the details) and his wife followed soon after by suicide. The house was left to Luther, who moved back in immediately and said there'd be changes in the household. He basically told Tilda to quit the drugs and go back to church if she wanted to stay in the house. He also had other rules like keeping a job, dumping her current boyfriend, giving her a curfew, etc.

So she left. She took her shitty beat up car an ex had fixed up for her and headed to California. A friend from high school lived out that way, so that's where she headed.

During this period in her life the drugs got a lot worse. This is also when she realized that she had become addicted. Mainly this is because, even after being away from her family and having freedom, she was still miserable. She didn't know how to get through a day sober. The constant variation between numbness and misery was too much to bare, but she wasn't ready to help herself. She wasn't ready to commit to her own healing and health.

She was in and out of therapy and rehab as quickly as she'd change jobs and partners. She wouldn't commit, and as soon as she had an out she'd take it. Had to miss an appointment for scheduling? Didn't make it back to the shelter in time to claim her bed for the night? Forgot to call back one of the few people who tried to reach out? No going back.

This is my main thing with Tilda. She was a shitty person who had a shitty life. But she never found the strength and commitment in herself to put in the work to be better. She instead let herself fall further and further down the hole because it was easier than pulling herself out. Because part of her still believed deep down that she had succeeded in living up to her birthright- that she wasn't deserving of ever healing or being better.

It was in one of these rehab facilities that she met the twins' father (and this part is absolutely inspired by Luke and Joey from the haunting of hill house). He was a guy with a similar past to hers- always sure he was meant to be bad so he committed to the role and never learned to commit to anything else. The difference between them, though, was that he was ready to get better.

They became fast friends and leaned on one another a bit while in rehab. She didn't see him as anything other than a friend, but he unfortunately became set on this idea that they would heal and move forward together. She knew he had feelings for her and enabled him (she didn't love him back but had never actually felt cared for like this before). He believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself, which was a lot. Unfortunately for him, he also ended up being more committed to her healing than she was. When she eventually started spiraling again, all other feelings for him were overshadowed by the part of her that just saw an opportunity.

She took advantage of him. She slept with him, took his money while he was sleeping, and bailed to get high and never see him again. Now I'm not gonna say she was just a devil who entered this poor man's life. He saw her more as a potential for an ideal life than a person. He was more in love with the dream he had of them getting better and starting a life together than he was actually in love with her and who she was as a person. Bad match all around.

So she never saw or heard from him again. When she found out she was pregnant, she went home to Luther and his wife and son. She didn't tell him right away that she was pregnant. Instead, she pretended she was just finally ready to commit to God and turn her life around. She played the part alright for a while, went to church with them and got sober and everything, but tried to leave and move into a women's shelter when she started showing. Luther found out and brought her home.

At first he was actually super supportive- mainly because he just genuinely thought she wanted to find God and stop "living in sin". But when she finally told him she didn't plan to keep the child, he turned on her.

We know the story from there. Personally I think the night that she stole the money and ran as her point of no return. Years down the line, when she knew she was being a terrible mother and person, she'd remember that night. And she'd think to herself how this is who she was always meant to be. How she doesnt deserve to be any better than how she is. And she'd dig the hole deeper.

-----

So yeah thats my take on Tilda Minyard. Sorry it was so long. I like the idea of giving depth and complexity to female characters- even the bad guys and the ones I don't like. I have a similar lengthy life concept for Mary Hatford as well, but it isn’t nearly as long. If anyone is curious lol

Thanks again for asking!

[anonymous0writer]

The Words We Never Said II Sarah Cameron

Author: @anonymous0writer

Warnings: Sarah’s death?? ANGST

Summary: You’ve always been in love with your best friend, Sarah Cameron. But you’ve kept your feeling close to your heart as you watched her fall in love with other boys. And dealing with the loss of the girl after she ran off with the John B. is not easy. Especially when a realization comes to light.

Pairings: RafexReader KelcexReader SarahxReader but they all are platonic :)

A/N: Big shout out to my girl Jackie @calumbroutledge bc her fic gave me inspiration and whoo-wee I haven’t written in a long time. Anyways, here ya go.

also if this is bad IM SO SORRY

Tags so this doesn’t flop: @jayjaymaebank​ @decap-quadrant​ @starkeystyles​ @thelocalpogue​ @socialwriter​

The picture. The damn picture had your heart tumbling out of its carefully placed pieces and breaking apart once again. Because of the picture.

The portrait. Of her in her shining glory and brightly smile. A gasp ripped from your chapped lips, a tell tale sing you were about to fall to your knees. Gasping, you tried to tear your gaze away but you couldn’t. It was painful to look, but looking away made your heart ache, reminding you of the empty place in the cavity of your chest. A ragged breath filled and emptied your chest.

You gazed at her, taking the stinging time to memorize her features. You studied the sweep of her blonde hair, the edges curling slightly from the salty air. The soft curve of her full, shiny lips as they broke into a smile. One she flashed to strangers on the street and gave whenever your days were plagued with your darker thoughts. You admired her eyes, crinkled at the edges from her broad grin, glimmering with joy and something else you couldn’t quite place. The emotion was tucked away, expertly hidden, but you, of course, could pick it out. Your shoulders sagged as you stared hard into her painted eyes, trying not to cry. The familiar glint of her wasn’t there. Because it wasn’t a live photo. It was a painting, a smear of mixed paints and colors to create a replica of the real thing. But Sarah was too bright to ever be captured on a canvas. Her light too great to ever be tamed.

Without realizing it, a sob tumbled out of your throat, weak and broken. But with it came a scream. A scream of desperation and hollowness of a lost one forever torn. your lips dropped and your throat burned but you released your feelings through your vocal chords. Your scream died to a broken gasping, but tears swam down your cheeks in little rivers. Another wave, another memory stabbed at you, making your knees go weak and another cry erupting from your lips. You stumbled backward, unable to hold yourself up, sorrow tugging you down.

Footsteps shuffled behind you quickly, and arms scooped beneath your armpits as you hit the floor. the strong arms pulled your back to their chest, keeping you from freaking out further. You couldn’t stop it now. The cries of grief falling from your lips in an unending spill of emotions. You sobbed, unable to see in front of you. In your haze of sorrow, you flailed, hands flying and feet trying to find purchase on marble floor. A grunt escaped the boy before you, but he tugged you closer, trying to keep you under control. Lord knows what this weight of grief would make you do. Your nails gripped his broad arms tightly, digging half moons into his flesh, but he did not stop holding you.

You gave up, too weak to continue your fight. You collapsed in his arms, sobs racking your delicate body. Your head dropped to his chest, his warmth radiating from all points of connection. You gripped his shirt, hands balling into the fabric. His large hands came up to rest tentatively on your back, trying desperately to soothe your aching heart and grieving mind. Your crying created a heart breaking symphony in the foyer of the Cameron house. You shook violently as you broke your connection to the boy holding you to see who it was. Looking up through your wet lashes, you found the saddened face of Kelce looking down at you. Your eyes met, your red rimmed ones meeting his dark orbs. Your hiccups stopped abruptly, and you sniffed, eyes going wide. His dark eyes were like Sarah’s. His face was in the slant of light coming through the windows, turning the golden auburn color you were so familiar with.

A scream ripped from your throat, and your feet fought for purchase once again, arms pinwheeling as you scrambled backwards. Her eyes- his eyes- hurt more than you could fathom. The memories came flooding back like a broken dam, the pain of it dragging across your skin like barbed wire. You hurried away and quickly you back hit a wall. Your eyes were wide and brimming with tears of hurt as you stared at your friend. Tears soon blurred your vision again, sending everything into a frenzy and your heart racing and slamming against your ribs. You were hyperventilating by this point, hands shaking uncontrollably and cries filling the foyer once again.

Kelce stared at you with dismay, his own heart cracking at sight of your broken figure, slumped and hyperventilating, tears streaming down your red cheeks. The memory of your nails still hovered over his skin, and the ghost of your form shaking in his hold scared him. He hated seeing you this way, so broken and irreversibly sad. He craved to calm you down, help you, but he knew he couldn’t near you without you bursting into hysterics again. Kelce swallowed the lump in his throat and called for the one person he knew would help you. Rafe.

“Rafe!” he called desperately, voice breaking at the end of his call. He was careful not to make any sudden movements, but he wanted to hold you close and tell you it was gonna be alright. You were the happy go lucky girl. The excellent surfer and strongest person he knew. And to see you- his friend- to be such a bright light dimmed, made his heart hurt.

The eldest Cameron came into the room, blue eyes finally landing on you. You buried your face in your hands, trying to wipe away the tears that kept on coming. A broken sob met Rafe’s ears as he knelt before you, his voice soft and coaxing.

“Hey,” he murmured, needing you to look at him and calm down. His voice was as soft as someone who understood could be. He knew the feeling that would linger behind your heart like a nasty shadow. It was already on his heart, him finding closure much quicker than you. For you, it was like a fresh, gaping wound, each time your eyes or thoughts wandered to something relating to Sarah cutting it open all over again. “Y/N.” he said more forcibly, a slight beg raising his voice. “Look at me, okay?”

You looked up as soon as his large hands rested on your arms, the warmth of them sending shock waves through your chilled body. You met Rafe’s blue eyes and caught your breath. In them you found the sea, and the peace you needed to still your racing heart. You hiccuped, mouth tugging into a grief ridden frown.

“I know.” The boy whispered, voice just loud enough to travel to your ears. “But it’s alright. You-“

“How?”

Your voice cut through the shocked silence of the room, coming out choked and hoarse. Rafe’s eyes flickered over your face, taking in the puffy, red eyes, the tear stained cheeks, the trembling lips. He swallowed. He knew how much his sister meant to you and visa versa.

What he didn’t know was how you were in love with her. Stricken dead by her beauty and golden soaked skin, shining eyes and breathtaking smile. But you’d fallen in love when you learned her. Learned the way she spoke about her family, mouth tilting up and her eyes shrinking as she smiled. Learned the way her hand fit perfectly into yours when she dragged you to places or just grabbed it for support. You learned the way she laughed when she found something really funny, mouth wide open, full, hearty laughs filling the space. You learned the way her presence brighten a room, just the whisper of her brought everyone’s mood up. You learned the way she whispered her secrets to you, voice low and almost raspy as she giggled and confided in you in the dark of her room. You learned the way she breathed when she was sleeping, on her side and facing you and she snuggled closer when you slept over. You fell in love with Sarah Cameron as soon as you learned her being. And you fell only deeper as she grabbed a hold of you and submerged you into her life, making yours such a vibrant one. You knew here reputation with people. How she grew close and reeled them in and then let them loose once they got a little too close. And maybe that’s the reason why you thought she felt the same. Because she kept you. But once enough saw her mouth against the pogues that worked on her father boat, you knew you were wrong. And when she ran away and disappeared in the churning waves of the ocean with him, you knew she never ever felt the same way. You were just another sister. Someone you almost had to love. Another wheezie. Perhaps she meant to let you go but the waves took her before that happened.

You choked on your grief but continued. “How is this alright?” your voice quirked up, riddled with pain. “How is Sarah begin gone okay? How is any of this okay?!” you hollered, as loud as you could without breaking down.

You watched the blue eyed boy before you flinch away from you words. Both of you knew they were spoken out of grief, but they hurt nonetheless. The waterworks started, and you cried harder because of it. You hated the way you broke so easily. Broke down and cried like it was the easiest thing in the world. Cried like you were weak. You knew it was wrong for you thoughts to twist this way, but the only person who could change them was crushed and lost to the Atlantic ocean.

Rafe’s throat bobbed and his hands moved from your shoulders. You quickly swallowed the rising scream, and tried to regain control over yourself.

“She’s gone!” you sobbed as Rafe enveloped you in a hug. His warmth spread through you, trying to soothe you. You broke down against Rafe’s chest, crying and sobbing. You kept repeated the words ‘she’s gone’ into the soft material. Anger rose in your blood, painting your eyelids red. It built up, rage at the world - for taking Sarah away from you. In fit, you slammed your fist against Rafe’s chest.

“She’s gone! Sarah’s gone, Rafe!” your voice was raw and begging. Begging him to take away your hurt in any way he could.

“I know- trust me. I know.” he whispered, his nose flaring as he tried not to join you in crying. You gave up trying to be strong and collapsed against the boy.

You stayed like that, on the floor and crying. You had wrapped your arms under his arms and gripped him tightly as Rafe held you back with the same intensity. As if you held each other tight enough, you wouldn’t fall apart, and you’d be ok. Your sobs quieted, and you sniffled harshly, burying your face in the crook of the boys neck. 

You almost wanted to laugh. It was always the Cameron’s hold you together, wasn’t it?

Without trying, your eyes traveled to find the portrait. Hung delicately on the wall, resting softly as it displayed the occupant of the house proudly. And indeed, she was beautiful. But that’s not what caught your attention. It was the glint in her dark eyes. The usual joy in her eyes was there, but that hidden emotion. You finally realized what it was. Love. Pure love, consuming and overwhelming.

And then it hit you. Sarah wasn’t looking at the painter. 

She had been looking at you.