#Downhearted Blues

[arinewman7]

Downhearted Blues

Evita Tezeno

Acrylic and mixed media collage on canvas, 2021

[artist-issues]

If you haven’t seen Wish yet and you love Disney, do not go see it. I am telling you now. It is ripping out the hearts of the Disney movies you love and then waving their corpses around as if celebrating those hearts.

I’ll explain why, again: the message of Wish? Awful. Anti-Disney.

But they've been doing this for a long time. Saying one thing with their movies, and saying another with their PR and Disney Parks Soundtracks.

I'll explain.

Main Idea of Disney's Wish (and the You Are the Magic theme park song and merch): "The power to make your wishes come true is in you."

≠

Most Disney Movies' Idea on How to Have Wishes: "Do what's right, (trust a higher power) and something even more wonderful than what you wished will happen."

Don't try to argue with me about this. You have to look underneath the slogans and the sweater designs and the song titles to what the stories actually support to acknowledge this.

Because you can’t say “do what’s right” has power unless you answer the question “who gets to decide ‘what’s right?’” (Which, coincidentally, is a question Wish brings up and then doesn’t answer.)

Audiences of Disney used to accept that wishing on a star was much like prayer; there’s something you long for, and it’s out of your hands, but you wish for it and you do what you know is right in the meantime. And you’re not crushed, you’re not downhearted, because somewhere in your mind you trust that the combo of those two things—wishing on a higher power and diligence to do what’s good—will be what makes your wish come true.

Trust in a higher power—COMBINED WITH:

—diligence to do what’s good.

The Blue Fairy (higher power) gave Geppetto his wish specifically because he had demonstrated commitment to do good, whether he got what he wanted or not. The Fairy Godmother (higher power) gave Cinderella her wish specifically because she kept on being kind and good to low creatures like mice and wicked stepsisters, whether she got what she wanted or not.

Do you know why that combo (higher power + diligence to do good) is impactful? Timeless? Important?

Because it’s selfless. You want something, but you’re not going to sacrifice doing the right thing to get it. You’re not going to focus so hard on making what you want a reality, on your own, that you miss out on things that could be more important than what you want. And, you’re not so self-focused as to believe that if you don’t do it, it won’t get done.

Jeez, that’s the whole point of The Princess and the Frog!

Tiana wishes to have her own restaurant, and she believes that only her own hard work will grant that wish. She misunderstands her dad’s advice before he dies. She isn’t willing to trust a higher power combined with her own diligence to do good—she only trusts her own ability.

It’s not until she realizes that Ray, the character of faith, was right all along that she learns—what she wished for was too self-focused. It wasn’t complete without love. Something bigger than herself. And getting that was never going to happen just based on her own hard work.

But you know what? It was never going to happen just by a “higher-power” flavored shortcut, either. Because Facilier offers her her wish if she’ll just trust him, no hard work needed. But what does she say?

Trust in a higher power + diligence to do what’s right = selflessness, and getting more than you could have ever wished for. And if your wish is selfish, doing those two things will change your wish into something selfless.

More examples? Get ‘em while they’re hot, in case Wish made you forget, just like the current #NotMyDisney executives have forgotten, what real Disney wishes are for.

Belle wishes to have adventures in the great wide somewhere--but when she's imprisoned and that chance is taken from her it's not reversed because she worked hard to make her wish come true. It's granted because she gave up her wish for her father: she just did the right thing, regardless of her wish. And in the end, she does get what she wished for, which is adventure in an enchanted castle...and much more, because she gets true love, a throne, and a castle full of friends.

How about the One Who Started It All? The one Wish is failing to pay genuine tribute to?

Snow White wishes for someone to love her, and he does--but when they're separated, she does not exercise power to make The Prince come back to her. Instead, she loves who she can where she’s at—the Dwarfs. In the meantime, she has faith that he will keep his promise, and that pure trust in a higher power outside of her control is a big contributing factor to why the Dwarfs come to love her, and learn from her...and in the end, even more than she could've wished happens. He does take her to his castle, but she also has seven new friends who also love her, and the Queen is dead. And she didn’t need to use “the power in her” to work harder and get it done. She just needed to not focus so much on herself at all.

How about a male main character? One who’s wish starts out selfish, but after learning to wish on a higher power and be diligent to do the right thing, gets more than he could wish for?

Aladdin wishes to be somebody different (somebody he believes Jasmine could love, somebody who lives in a palace and is respected and “never has any troubles at all.”)—but doing everything in his own power for that wish proves that it was selfish all along; so he switches to doing the right thing, regardless of if his wish comes true, and he gets even more than he could’ve wished. He gets real love with Jasmine, he gets his friend Genie, and he gets to be free from feeling “trapped” because he doesn’t have to hide who he is anymore.

Or Simba?

Simba wishes to get to do whatever he wants as King—but when Mufasa dies and he’s convinced it’s his fault, it isn’t for that wish that he goes back to Pride Rock to confront his past and his Uncle. It’s because he had an encounter with a higher power—his father—that helped him to realize his wish was selfish all along. He gives up the selfish wish, and he goes back to take his place as king, not so he can do whatever he wants, but so that he can take self-sacrificial responsibility that comes with ruling. And because he just does the right thing, finally, he gets more than what he wished for.

How about something more recent? Zootopia.

Judy wishes to make the world a better place by proving she can be what she wants to be and catching bad guys—but when she tries to make her wish happen on her own, in her own abilities, she fails and is forced to realize that she should’ve been looking for help by understanding “bad guys,” like Nick. It’s only after she humbled herself, admits she’s wrong, and changes her wish from “proving I can be what I want and catching bad guys” to “proving that understanding each other makes the world a better place” (much less self-focused) that her wish comes true—and so much more. She does make the world a better place, and she does get to catch bad guys, but she also gets to befriend one who was a good guy all along, and become all-around more effective at her dream job.

This is how Disney always has been. Because it’s at the heart of good storytelling, and even life (not to get too dramatic.)

The power is not in you. Because it’s not about you. Self-sacrifice, faith, and doing the next right thing regardless of if you get your heart’s fondest desire is what makes more than just your wishes come true. And there has to be belief in a higher power to make that message powerful.

But Wish?

Not only is it bad at showing instead of telling. Not only is it lazy and soulless.

But it’s characters rip the Star out of the sky and say “don’t wish on this. Wish on yourself, to get what you wish for. You don’t need a higher power. You don’t even need to sacrifice to do what’s good—whatever you do is good, because you are the one doing it.”

That is wrong. That is not true, and it is not powerful. There’s no sacrifice in focusing on or placing your trust totally in yourself, and it undoes every good thing Disney has done up until now.

And it undoes it on the 100th anniversary, and it flaunts Easter eggs of the very things it’s undoing.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

The right ones.

Pic credits

Pairing: Soft!Joel Miller x reader, no outbreak (Sarah is alive and well)

Summary: Joel buys you pads. ‘Cause Joel provides, you know, no matter the situation.

Tags: established relationship, pet names (baby, honey), reader has period and hair, no other description is given, mention of period symptoms, mention of cramps, mention of pads, mention of Sarah, flirting, kissing, Joel is a sweet pookie bear, I think that’s all? It’s just some tiny little fluff I wrote because I’m about to get my period and I need some comfort 🥲

I tried to write it in a neutral way so that every person who menstruates can identify with it, I hope I succeeded. (if you think there are things that need to be changed, just tell me and I'll do it ❤️)

English is not my first language, no beta and no proofreading so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry 💀

Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Your cell phone rings.

“Hey! What’s up, honey?”

“Um… listen, which ones did you say you need?”

“The ones with wings, Joel. Blue box, second shelf from the bottom.”

Usually you are the one who takes care of groceries and hygiene products shopping and by now you know by heart where they are.

“Mh…” you can see him. In the middle of the aisle, frowning, one hand on his hip and the other one holding the phone, one knee slightly forward, as he tries to maneuver through the boxes, they must all look the same to him.

“The ones that say ‘night, with wings, extra long’,” you add to try to help him.

Silence follows, several deep breaths, an undertone of exasperation, you bite your lower lip to keep from bursting out laughing. You don’t want to make fun of him, he’s trying hard to make it right.

He offered to do it for you this morning while you were in the bathroom and you discovered that not only had your period decided to come early but you were also almost out of pads.

You let out a sigh and cursed, “Oh damn!” You were in a foul mood, the cramps were making you squirm, your head was hurting, your back was tormenting you.

He was getting dressed, clearly heard you and asked worried “what’s wrong?”

You walked out of the bathroom with your head down and one hand on your stomach feeling miserable “UGH, my stupid period came and I’m running out of pads”

You sat on the bed and grabbed your phone from the nightstand as a terrible nausea hit you, and you called out of work saying you were sick.

His large hand caressed your face as he leaned down to kiss you.

“I’ll go to the supermarket during lunch break,” he said softly “Stay in bed and rest, okay?”

“Thank you so much” you said, lying down on the bed again and burying your face into your pillow, feeling cramps clawing inside you “you’re the absolute best”

He leaned to kiss your cheek and then left the house to reach the construction site.

—————

He had done it for Sarah one of the first times she had her period and he had bought the wrong type, the thick and bulky ones, she had looked at the box with a downhearted expression that had made his heart sink.

“Those aren't the ones I wanted, Dad! I told you extra thin!” She screamed at him between sobs.

Joel felt like a good-for-nothing.

Making Sarah cry was terrible for him.

He later discovered that his daughter's tantrum was also a side effect of her period and Sarah had apologized to him but Joel still felt that he was the one who had to apologize for his lone wolf status that didn't allow him to have someone by his side to ask for help.

He would have liked to fall in love, yet he had to make it on his own, he certainly didn’t have time to date between work and all the other things he had to take care of. Being a single dad was a full time job.

After that, Joel had memorized the type that Sarah liked best but she had always conveniently made sure to stock up every time they went to the supermarket.

It had been many years since he had bought them for her and he found himself back at square one. Packages are so different, he could swear there are a dozen new ones he's never seen before.

He pinches his nose, takes a deep breath and then he sees it, just like you described it.

"I found them!" you hear him say enthusiastically "I'll be there soon"

"Good job! I'll be waiting for you, love" you coo.

He grabs the box and he goes to the checkout.

You hang up the phone wondering if he really has the ones you want but in any case you’re already grateful that he used his lunch break to bring them to you.

When he met you he was convinced he would be alone forever.

You had reopened his heart little by little, with patience, without pushing him to do or say what he wasn't ready for yet and he had rediscovered himself as a man capable of loving and in need of receiving it. He was grateful for this, he’s madly in love with you and wants to do everything he can to help you in every circumstance.

————————

Joel has quietly entered your room and find you asleep.

He sits on the bed trying not to wake you.

Your hair spread out on the pillow, your face relaxed, your mouth slightly agape and your hand hanging loosely next to your face… you are so beautiful he can’t believe it. He’s the luckiest man in the world and the least he can do is bring you the right damn box. He leave the bag on your nightstand, kisses you on the temple and goes to the kitchen to make some sandwiches.

You wake up after a couple of minutes and see the bag so you grab it to look inside.

Bingo.

Joel wasn’t wrong, they are exactly the ones you wanted. And you find your favorite chocolate bar in it too.

You hear him humming softly in the kitchen so you get up to go and congratulate your hero.

“Hey, gorgeous!” he says to you as soon as he sees you at the kitchen door. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” you say, stretching your arms. Luckily the painkiller you took worked.

“I’m happy to hear that. Go back to bed, I’ll bring you a sandwich in a bit” You move closer and wrap your arms around his waist, leaning against his back as he spreads mayo on the bread.

“You don’t have to do all this, but thank you” you whisper “I love you so much” His body is warm and welcoming, you bury your face in his plaid shirt inhaling his woody scent, so familiar and seductive.

Joel is like that, he had never been good with words, his love language is gestures. And he makes tons of them, constantly, small and big. He remembers which flowers you like best, he brings you Chinese food when you tell him you had a bad day, he watches your romantic comedies with you even if they bore him, he lets you choose the music in the car even if he's old school and you're belting out Billie Eilish and Chappell Roan these days, if something in the house broke, you find it repaired the next day without even asking.

“I love you too” he says, dropping the knife on the counter and placing his hands on yours, holding you close.

“You got the right ones, I'm proud of you” you tell him softly.

He turns to kiss you “Good, I’m glad I could help”

The tip of your tongue grazes his lips and you gently make your way into his mouth, moaning against him while he fills his hands with your ass squeezing it.

“Mmm baby, don't provoke me, I don't have much time left before coming back to work unfortunately"

“We can always have a quickie, they say orgasms help with cramps, you know” you say in a slightly pleading voice, looking at his big brown beautiful eyes through your eyelashes.

“Oh well then if it's for a good cause…” he replies huskily.

“And then you deserve a prize”

“I also got you some chocolate, did you see?”

“Oh yes” you say grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him into the bedroom “I saw it and I love it, but I crave something else sweet right now”

Joel chuckles as he follows you into your shared bedroom “such a dirty little thing you are”

[becomingmina]

hey would you be able to write a felix x fem reader angst? when felix falls out of love with her.

“ARE YOU SURE IT'S NOT HATE?" anon request w/ LEE FELIX.

pairing: felix x female reader genre + warnings: angst, reader cries wc: 1.9k mina's note: tmi - my ex fell out of love with me so this hits home a little. we meet when we were 12 and we broke up when we were 21. anyways, i hope you guys like this :)) and to the cuties anon who requested this, thank you very much!! sorry for making you wait, im just like felix i have no reason!

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

“I asked you a question baby,” you say from across the kitchen island. Felix was occupied on his phone, sitting on the stool on the other side of the counter.

“I gave you an answer Y/N,” he huffs after a few seconds, not lifting his head from the device.

“Yeah, but not verbally though,” you make your way over to him.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’re grown enough to figure it out, Y/N,” he replies back, rolling his eyes up from his screen for a second before continuing with scrolling.

“You’re really fine with them being blue?” You questioned again, hugging him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“They’re just cupcakes, they’ll get eaten anyways. I don’t understand what’s the big problem with the colour of the icing,” he says irritated.

It was Chan’s turn to host dinner for your friend group. You and Felix usually bring over homemade cupcakes for dessert. It was a ritual to spend every last Saturday of the month together in the kitchen baking and decorating two dozen cupcakes. And usually, it was Felix who would have a hard time choosing the colour for the icing but today it seems he just wanted to get the cupcakes over and done with.

“Okay,” you replied defeated, feeling a little hurt at his tone. “Did you wanna help me?” You softly asked, sniffing his shoulder to take in his sweet scent.

“I’m busy,” Felix sighed.

“Okay, I’ll iced them then,” you moved yourself away Felix, walking back to your original position in the kitchen.

Lately you feel like Felix hasn’t been his clingy needy self. He would stick onto you like glue every second of the day but recently he’s been distant. You can’t pinpoint when exactly it became like this, but you were sure it’s been a couple of weeks by now. He’s been telling you that work has been busy for him, and you understand how it can affect him, but you still feel a little bit downhearted when he visually shows his annoyance with you.

After finished up with the icing and getting yourself ready, you sat in living room with the box of cupcakes on your lap patiently waiting for Felix. He had locked himself in the office, saying he needed to go over his feedback for some report for work.

“Hey, how’d it go?” You ask when you hear the office door open, but he ignores your question as he searches for his car keys. You expected it didn't go well.

The car ride to Chan’s was silent as you figured you should probably give him some space. He looks over to your side a couple of times noticing your quietness, but he doesn’t strike conversation with you, only making a few little comments about how bad traffic was. You brushed off his lack of initiative making excuses for him that he was just tired from work.

“He surprised me the other day! He’s going to rent out my favourite art gallery for our wedding reception,” Hana and Hyunjin was giving the group details their upcoming wedding at dinner. They were so cheerful talking about it and although you loved it for them, you couldn’t help envy it and wished for you and Felix to reach that stage in life shortly.

“Who’s next? Felix? Y/N?” Chan teased with a raised brow, and you goofily smile at the older man. You turned your head to Felix to see his reaction, but his head is tilted down and his face was straight. Chan notices the tension and quickly changes subject hoping no one else catch on. It caught you by surprise that he wasn’t as responsive as you were to Chan’s joke. It got you second guessing if it was even work that’s been making him like this.

You spend the rest of the night with the other girlfriends. As they spoke about their recent dates with their partner, all you could do was be happy for them concealing the fact that you and Felix hadn’t been on one in ages. You keep glancing over at Felix throughout the night but he showed you no attention. Usually you would catch him staring at you and blowing kisses and winks at you, but tonight there was nothing.

The car ride home was the same as the car ride there - quiet.

Felix walked in your apartment first, you followed behind him closely. As you put your bag on the entry way table you tripped over a pair of shoes accidentally falling forward on Felix in the process.

“Y/N watch yourself!” Felix yells, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry,” you softly say as you got up. “I just tripped,” you defend yourself, feeling tears start to form in your eyes at his tone.

“God can you look where you’re going?!” he groans turning around to face you. He was red mad. He had never got this angry at you before for tripping over.

“Did I do something wrong to you Felix?” You asked softly, feeling something heavy in your chest. You needed an answer to why he’s been treating you differently, it’s obvious now that it wasn’t because of work. “Last couple of weeks you have just been distant towards me and I’m a little hurt by it,” you say cracking your voice in the process, pulling a string on Felix’s heart. He frowns at your reaction.

You watch him sigh, hesitating little bit before he answers “You know work is hectic-”

“-Is it?” You questioned in an offended tone, dumbfounded that he used the same excuse again - work. “Work is hectic that you have to yell at me because I accidentally tripped on your shoes? Work’s been hectic that you can’t even smile at me in front of our friends? Work’s been hectic that you can’t even answer a simple question about the colour of the icing on the cupcakes that use to mean so much to you?!”

You didn’t expect to have an outburst like this. Felix doesn’t reply, he just takes a deep breath watching you as you continue to lash out at him.

“You don’t ask if I’m okay anymore. You don’t hug me anymore. Because of work?” You chuckle, sarcastically.

“Y/N-” he takes a step closer to you.

“-You’ve leave for work early in the morning and come back home late on the days I’m at home-”

“I-” he tried to speak again.

“And when it’s the weekend you lock yourself in the office all day. You avoid spending time with me, you avoid talking to me.” Your face was red, brows furrowed as you keep your tears from falling.

“Y/N, let me talk-”

“What did I do to-” You cut him off again.

“I’m not inlove you anymore!” Your heart drops at his words. The tears you tried to conceal instantly rolls down your cheeks and you take in a sharp breath. “This relationship is draining me.” He adds, breaking you even more.

You didn’t expect this. He’s been so mean to you lately all because he wasn’t in love you anymore? It doesn’t make sense to you that all of this was done because he fell out of love. You refuse to believe it.

“Are you sure it’s not hate?” You sniffled, pulling another string from Felix’s heart. "Are you sure it's not because you hate me?" you repeat yourself when he doesn't answer, feeling a bit anxious that it might be true, that he actually hates you.

“Never.” Felix replied rapidly this time, his tone a lot more softer now. “I could never hate you Y/N." Felix continues to conceals his emotions, not letting anything pass you.

“But you’ve been acting like you do.” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, your eyes wavering to seek any reaction from him.

“I just needed space Y/N.”

“I gave you space. So much space,” you retorted.

“I think we should..” he stops before he says the last words, letting you piece the puzzle by yourself.

“You want to leave me?” You question and he flicks his eyes away from yours. You got your answer.

He lets out a heavy breath, running his fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes falling back on yours. “It’s for the best Y/N.”

“No, I don’t understand. Where I go wrong, Lix?.” you reached out to grip his forearm as the tears continued down your face, dripping to the floor.

“I don’t want to be here with you anymore,” he says softly, trying to loosen himself from your hold but you latch onto him tighter as you shake your head no.

“That’s not a reason Lix. Tell me where I went wrong,” You needed answers. He owe it to you. “You were the one who chased me, remember? You made me fall in love with you. It’s been 4 years and you want to leave me? Why?” You asked, in a complete mess.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I’m sorry Y/N,” Felix apologies.

“Tell me why?”

“I can’t-”

“Then stay.” If he didn’t have an answer then he shouldn’t leave you, it’s unfair.

Y/N,” he says firmly.

“Just for one night,” you say, taking in a deep breath. “You can leave when I fall asleep,” you surrendered, eyes wavering waiting for his answer. “Please,” you beg.

“Y/N.. Baby I can’t,” it was the first time he called you that in a while and your heart breaks once more. He stopped calling you that and started calling you by name for months now. How is it that you never noticed until now.

“I’ll let you go when I fall asleep.. Please..Just love me one last time, Felix.”

Felix contemplated. He stared at you. Your glossy eyes. Your runny nose. Your red cheeks. He watches your chest rises up and down as you tried to control yourself. He hates seeing you cry, he hates seeing you hurt. It breaks him. He gives in. “Okay.”

He has you on pulled up flushed on him on your shared bed, your legs tangled with his. Your face pressed again his chest as one of his hand is wrapped around your waist and the other traces nothings up and down your back. Your tears haven’t stop, they fall effortlessly out of your eyes on his shirt. You stay quiet. You want to talk. You have so many questions to ask. So many things you want to know. But you stay quiet because you know Felix won’t answer you. So instead you stare into nothing as you replay back your happiest memories with Felix. You can’t help the small smile that is pulled on your face as you remember everything, every detail of everyday with him.

You tried you best to stay awake but you feel your eye lids closing. You don’t want to give in to sleep because you know by the time you wake up, he’ll be gone. But you’re exhausted, both your body and mind.

Felix stares up at the ceiling. He’s guilty. He owes you a reason, he owes you answers but he keeps quiet. He replays back memories but he doesn’t have the same reaction as you. He doesn’t smile. He cries instead. Tears run down his face as you recalls the soft and sweet memories with you. How could he do this to you? How could he make you fall in love with him then walk out like this? How could he say he was no longer in love with you?

Felix doesn’t hear your sniffles anymore. He feels your breathing evens out with his body. You had fallen asleep in his arms.

Felix presses a kiss to your temple, his arm still holding your waist tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Halloween chapter 12

Note: this is a direct follow up to chapter 11 and nods back to all the previous chapters. the timing of this release is probably awful, but here goes nothing.

previous chapters: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - part 10 - part 11.

Warnings: 18+! angst and some fluff, mention of blood, death, medication use, brief mention of self harm(not suicidal). Please proceed with caution if you have been triggered by earlier chapters of this fic.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: you formed a bond with Sihtric as he was your patient. 

wordcount: 6662 (I laughed at the 666 so I had to put the exact number, what are the odds)

Masterlist

The Willow Asylum was cold and the lights reflected painfully bright on the blank white walls, making for a downhearted and inhospitable atmosphere.

White. 

White was the colour that surrounded you everywhere. Not only were all the lights and walls white, but so were the floors, ceilings, tables, chairs, doors, couches, desks, bathrooms, beds, cabinets and the window sills were white to, which were barred on the outside with thick white metal. Everything was white. Even the patients were dressed in all white; laceless white shoes with white socks and white pants, white shirts, white sweaters and white underwear too. And all the patients looked an odd shade of white too, regardless of their skin colour, which was what had alarmed you immediately on your first day at the place. Everything was so white that you and your colleagues stood out by wearing a light shade of blue, which was supposed to be a comforting and calming colour but it made you feel like you were a great blue shark amongst blood and colour deprived corpses that were the patients. But the patients weren't dead, they were still very much alive in one way or another.

You were already an experienced doctor when you were transferred to the Willow Asylum, which most people called the Willow House to make it sound less harsh, but what happened behind the locked doors of the building was harsh to say the least. You had never before seen patients in the state which they were in at the Willow House, with their eyes all empty and walking around as if they had no soul anymore. You had so many questions and concerns, but seeing the stern faces of your colleagues already gave you your answer: you had to suck it up if you wanted to help these people who so desperately needed help, but you wondered if they were getting the right kind of help, if any.

It was your first day at the Willow House when you met Sihtric a few hours into your shift. And it was Sihtric who confirmed your suspicion about the quality of treatment everyone received; the nurses weren't helping the patients at the Willow House, they were slowly driving them insane and eventually even killing some.

It was Halloween and the patients were restless, constantly roaming the hallways and screaming at the top of their lungs, seemingly for no reason at all. But you believed they probably felt the ghostly past of the building they were kept in, as the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest. Every patient got drugged up that afternoon as they were all going out of their minds, banging their fists on the tables and against the windows, when they weren't rattling the doorknobs in the hopes to find a way out. The alarm howled through the cold and big corridors of the asylum every hour, to which a handful of guards responded by brutally forcing obviously terrified patients into their rooms and locking them up. Their frightened screams sounded muffled through the walls all day, as if something was locked inside with them in their room, but no one ever saw anything out of the ordinary.

Sihtric was one of the few who was calm as he sat in one of the white chairs in the communal living room, staring out the window, next to the old and no longer in use fireplace. You had looked into the records of each patient before your first shift, and Sihtric was the one that stuck with you the most. He had been committed by his now ex-wife a few years ago, and his past as a black ops soldier seemed to be the reason he was brought in. His ex-wife claimed he heard and saw things, which doctors said was part of the PTSD symptoms which he was treated for now. You read that Sihtric was usually calm but also notorious for sudden outbursts of violence and erratic behaviour.

Patient has a history with violence, against himself and others. Patient is known to inflict pain to himself i.e. cutting himself to draw blood which he has used to draw unholy symbols on his floor, window and walls. Patient is under no circumstance allowed to keep sharp objects. Patient shows no sign of suicidal tendencies; self-harm is only done for the sake of a religious and ritualistic form. Patient will not elaborate when asked.

Violent fits happen at random, medication has been increased and proven successful: patient is evidently calmer when medicated.

You remembered his file as you looked at him while you sat in your office, almost spying on him as you lurked carefully between the closed blinds, and he didn't seem violent at all. You felt yourself smirk when you thought how he looked even more handsome in real life than on his photo that was attached to his files. But you quickly shook off that thought when you remembered he was a patient, your patient, and that unfortunately something was off about him or else he wouldn't be there.

You again glanced at the list of medication he was on, and it still shocked you the same as it had done when you had first seen it. The list was huge and it struck you as odd that Sihtric was capable of even walking around on his own by the amount of sedatives in his blood at all times. But that was also what made you so curious. That and his hauntingly beautiful face.

And when the alarm blared through the asylum again and guards ran past your window, followed by some nurses, you took the opportunity to approach Sihtric as the communal room was almost empty, apart from a few other patients who sat at their tables and either slept or sat there drooling and staring at nothing in particular. You calmly made your way over and sat at a safe distance as you shared the table with the handsome man, whose tired and empty eyes were fixated on the heavy rain outside as it smashed with thick drops against the window. Sihtric didn't even look up at you at first, as if you weren't there, or more so; as if he wasn't really there. You struggled to find a way to start a conversation, but the topic was quickly found once you saw the DVD case he had in his lap.

'Halloween,' you said quietly with a faint smile, 'a classic.'

Sihtric suddenly blinked and slowly turned his face to meet your eyes, and he gave you an empty yet puzzled look.

'The DVD,' you explained, 'is it your pick for movie night today?'

Sihtric nodded slowly.

'I hope they pick your choice,' you smiled, 'it's my favourite.'

You had found out earlier that day that on Halloween each patient got to pick a movie for the movie night, and eventually one would be picked by the nurses to be shown on the tv in the communal room.

'They won't pick it,' Sihtric half whispered and looked out the window again.

'Why not?'

Sihtric scoffed lightly at your question, then looked at you again with his soulless mismatched eyes.

'Because they never show a movie on movie night.'

'I don't understand,' you said, confused.

'They lie,' Sihtric whispered and leaned in closer.

'Who?'

'Everyone.'

'Do you mean the nurses don't pick a movie from the ones you all picked?'

Sihtric shook his head.

'They don't pick any movie,' he said sadly as he looked down at the case in his lap, 'they never show a movie. They lie. They always lie,' Sihtric suddenly leaned in closer, 'do you want to know a secret?'

Without thinking you leaned in too, as he spoke softer with each word that followed. And after you had looked around to make sure no one was there, you nodded cautiously at this question.

'Yes,' you whispered.

'I shouldn't be here,' he said with a sudden twisted grin on his face.

His words made your mouth dry and your hair stand on end, but before you could speak you were rudely interrupted by the alarm again as it echoed through the building and the heavy boots of guards stomped down the hall again. You waited until everything became quiet again, but once you returned your attention back to Sihtric, he seemed to have lost interest in the conversation and was staring outside again. You sighed softly, having to accept he was just as lost as everyone else in there, and you moved to get up. But Sihtric then suddenly grabbed your wrist and looked up at you.

'I've been waiting for you,' he said, his eyes suddenly vivid and his voice confident and alive, as if he had gotten clear headed out of nowhere.

'What?' you asked as you felt a cold shiver down your spine at his warm touch.

'You found me this time, little bat,' Sihtric smiled as if in love, 'I've been waiting for you all my life,' he breathed.

You stared at him, speechless, his grip on your wrist firm yet not painful or malicious. And you watched his smile fade as the alarm sounded again, and this time the heavy boots stormed your way. Sihtric was quick to grab your face and he kissed your lips almost bruisingly before you were shoved aside by one of the guards. And within a split second you witnessed how Sihtric was pushed harshly down on the table, causing his nose to bleed while they dragged him away from you before they locked and chained him up in an isolation cell for the night.

And Sihtric was right, you found out that evening, for the nurses never showed a movie for the patients. In fact, they were all locked in their rooms after dinner.

You observed Sihtric the following days after the incident in the communal area, and you found out that one nurse in particular was rather interested in him as well. The blonde caregiver was called Skade, and she gave you a terrible feeling from the moment you met her. Her smile was always insincere and you noticed Sihtric was always tense when she was around. But you figured that was because she was in charge of the medication he needed to take, and nobody likes to have multiple pills forced down their throats several times a day.

Day and night your mind reeled about how aware Sihtric had looked when he took your wrist that first day and suddenly kissed you. His words still made no sense to you, but you would swear they were spoken by a man who wasn't on any of the medication he was on, because it seemed as if the drugs had left his blood within a matter of seconds and his previously soulless eyes were full of hope in that very moment. You were also still horrified by how violently the guards had treated him, and you found yourself worrying about him at night when you couldn't fall asleep, even when he wasn't locked in isolation anymore.

Days later you snuck Sihtric's files with you out of the asylum so you could go over them at home, and you did so for hours on end, trying to understand him and his behaviour but it seemed to be a puzzle with many missing pieces. What didn't help either was that, despite his sudden behaviour, you had never been afraid in his presence or afraid of him in general. And his words had been almost soothing that first day you spoke to him, for you felt at ease when you sat next to him as if you had known him all your life for some reason. And his kiss… his kiss still made your head spin and your heart skip a few beats whenever you thought of it.

The days after the incident you noticed Sihtric became more and more unaware of his surroundings as Skade was shoving more medication his way than you knew was actually prescribed, and it concerned you. If Sihtric had been violent towards you then you could understand they were doing everything they could to keep him calm and quiet, even though you were very much against that kind of treatment, but what worried you more was that he hadn't been violent with you at all. So the treatment they gave him could not be condoned in any way, even if he had crossed a line and kissed you, but you seemed to be the only one aware of how cruel the nurses were.

After a few weeks you decided to approach him again and you found Sihtric alone in his room, with his door open. You knocked but Sihtric didn't respond, so you carefully entered his room and the first thing you noticed in the all white coloured nightmare was the unbreakable mirror, which hung in every room, but his was painted black. Sihtric sat on his bed with knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and he looked up when he suddenly noticed you had wandered in his room and were seemingly inspecting the darkened mirror.

'It's a portal,' Sihtric suddenly said, which startled you lightly.

'A portal?' you frowned at the mirror and then remembered reading in his files that he had been fixated on all kinds of paranormal theories, which you knew a lot about yourself too. 'Yes, I've heard of that theory,' you said, glad he started the conversation, 'why did you paint it black?'

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it again, and then almost violently shook his head.

'No, no you will drug me,' he said with a trembling voice.

'I am not the one who brings medication, Sihtric,' you said compassionately, 'I will never drug you. I am here to understand you better and to see if you are receiving the right treatment. Why do you assume you will be medicated if you tell me about the mirror?'

'Because you all think I'm crazy.'

'I don't think you are crazy,' you said and sat down on the bed next to him, at a comfortable distance, 'try me.'

Sihtric hesitated while he looked at you, as if he was trying to read your mind and you noticed how full of life his eyes were again, just like that brief moment before the guards had taken him away.

'Scrying,' he then said and looked away, 'I sometimes use it to… look,' he paused and waited for you to make a mocking comment, but it never happened.

'I know what scrying is,' you smiled softly, 'and I believe it is a real thing.'

'It is real,' Sihtric said quickly, 'it is real, I promise.'

'I know,' you reassured him, 'and I promise I don't think you are crazy.'

You stopped talking when Skade suddenly walked in, holding a tray with multiple cups of medication to which Sihtric immediately tensed up and backed himself into the corner while still on his bed. Your heart sank when you saw the sheer panic in his eyes, eyes that were convincingly aware of what was happening instead of being the numbed zombie that those pills are supposed to make him 24/7.

'No,' you said and held your hand up as Skade attempted to come closer, 'I… I am doing a study,' you lied, 'I am studying his behaviour, and I would like to see how he changes when the medication is out of his system in order to determine the treatment he receives. There is no need to give him his pills right now, because he is calm.'

Skade scoffed and asked if you had permission to do whatever you were doing, and you were somehow convincing enough after you promised she could leave the medication on the table and you would later make sure he would take them. Relief washed over Sihtric once Skade left his room after you had talked into her, but his trembling hands told you that his fear for the blonde nurse was deeply rooted within him, and even stronger was the feeling of hatred he felt towards her.

You began to spend a lot of time with Sihtric in the weeks that followed. A bond formed rather quickly when you often discussed all things spooky as it was a shared interest, and Sihtric always seemed to have that spark of joy in his eyes when he got to be around you, which warmed your heart. You told Sihtric you wanted to go to a Halloween fair one day, but you never had anyone to join you and you also confessed you had never been to a proper Halloween party in your life. Sihtric was shocked at your confession and promised that once he'd get out of the asylum he would take you to the Halloween fair and to a good Halloween party, even though he knew chances of getting out were slim. You also discussed classic horror movies and even found out you both enjoyed the same sort of music, and you loved sharing scary stories as you roamed the depressing white hallways together as a part of his daily activity. 

Sihtric slowly opened up to you about his time in the asylum, specifically about how he didn't trust Skade and he claimed she was a witch. And even though you believed such things were possible, you had to remind yourself that Sihtric was a patient and you had to downplay your own thoughts about her so you wouldn't feed his possible delusional thoughts. You were shocked to hear how she had treated him overtime, making fun of him and degrading him and even going as far as spitting in his face for no reason at all other than that she felt she had all the power and control over him. Her behaviour angered you, and you believe Sihtric entirely, but you couldn't confront her about her behaviour because there was no solid proof for her actions towards him.

You grew very fond of Sihtric as time passed by, something which Skade noticed too as you were always present in his room when she came to give Sihtric his medication several times a day. And she learned soon enough that Sihtric would not take pills from her anymore, but if she left them on the table with you, he would take them later when you reminded him to. He was still reluctant about the medication and it was clear he only took them to please you, which you appreciated but also didn't help the spark of feelings you began to feel for him as you felt so at ease and safe around him.

However, you quickly noticed that Sihtric was affected negatively by his medication, becoming drowsy and confused instead of being his lively and sharp self when he was not medicated. It pained you to see him like that and you did not understand why he was prescribed all the pills he was forced to take, as they didn't help him in any way. But maybe even more peculiar was how fast the medication seemed to vanish from his blood. He sobered up about two hours after taking his medication, something which should not be humanly possible, but that explained why the amount of pills he was forced to take had increased so often; they simply stopped working too soon and they kept upping the dosage to keep him drugged out of his mind.

Over time you witnessed several of his violent outbursts. He'd attack the guards and anyone who tried to force him to take his medication at times, and you started to notice there was a pattern in his behaviour. Sihtric became violent towards everyone, except for you, when the medication was seemingly completely out of his system as it made him aware and clear headed, and he kept claiming he did not belong in the asylum, which you started to agree on. It also seemed he became more violent and erratic during the full Moon, and that was something you still couldn't explain. But every violent fit always started when someone tried to push the pills in his mouth and he'd fight them, and it always ended with the guards knocking him out and Skade injecting some kind of tranquilliser until his body weakened and he was dragged away and chained to his bed. And you always watched it in horror, as your gut told you something was so terribly wrong with the way he was treated, and that Sihtric truly did not belong there.

While you continued to observe Sihtric, you also began to observe every nurse who treated him, as it wasn't just Skade. And while you did that you also continued to strengthen your bond with Sihtric, which had grown into something that simply shouldn't be. The way your heart fluttered when you sat close to him and how your cheeks warmed up whenever you caught his bright mismatched eyes gazing at you gave you an alarmingly intense rush of butterflies each time, and you found yourself thinking of him every night before you fell asleep.

'What are those tattoos?' you asked Sihtric as you sat next to him on his bed.

Sihtric smiled, completely off medication again, and he told you about his black ops past. He told you what you had read in his files already, that he had a paranormal encounter while on a mission once and had lost a friend to it. It was a sad story but Sihtric said he had made his peace with everything, and he was very much aware that that whole ordeal was the reason he was committed. It broke your heart because you believed Sihtric didn't belong there and you somehow felt connected to him, but most of all it broke your heart because you wished you could make him leave this place of horrors and keep him safe. Keep him safe from whatever they were doing to him here and to keep him safe from himself too, because everytime he was medicated you didn't recognise him anymore.

You looked at him with a soft smile after he had told his story, and he shyly looked down at his feet as he swayed them lightly while sitting on the edge of his bed.

'I just want this to end,' he murmured as if talking to himself, 'living here, I mean. I want it to be over.'

'I wish I could take you home with me,' you whispered without thinking and took his hand.

'I wouldn't say no to that,' Sihtric blushed and looked at you while softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

His eyes were so clear and alive. They were so vivid and enchanting and his piercing gaze pulled you closer to him so naturally. And you didn't even try to stop him when he suddenly kissed you. Instead of pushing him away, you reached for his neck and pulled him even closer, to which Sihtric immediately pulled you in his lap and placed his hands on your waist. This was the second time he kissed you, but it was nothing like that first time, which had been hard and rushed as had happened in the spur of the moment. This time his kiss was tender and slow and passionate, as if he was taking his time.

The kiss deepened as you moved one hand up to the back of his head, feeling the warmth of the shaved side of his head touching your palm while your fingers tangled in his dark curls. You would never deny that Sihtric had been on your mind ever since that first kiss that had caused him to be restrained and locked up, and you had been secretly longing to feel his lips touch yours again.

You drowned in his kiss, tasting the apple juice on his tongue which he had sipped through a straw while you were talking moments before, and he squeezed your waist almost bruisingly as he moaned softly in your mouth with each stroke of your tongue he felt against his. He then picked you up, so easily with his strong arms hooked under your knees, and he pushed you up against the wall while you made out passionately. You enveloped your legs around his waist and wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing hard while you were pressed between his warm body and the cold wall. You kissed each other roughly and with a hunger that could not to be stilled, no matter how deep the kiss was, but you were rudely disturbed and pulled back to reality when the alarm sounded through the Willow House again, and you both broke the kiss before the guards ran past his room.

You had managed to keep your steamy encounter with Sihtric a secret, and it eventually turned out to only be the first of many times you would be pushed up against the wall in his room, with his hands roaming your body while his tongue was deep inside your mouth. And numerous times he would sit you up on the desk in your office, kissing you just as passionately while the door was locked and the blinds were closed. You had fallen in love with him and Sihtric didn't have to use his words to tell you he was in love with you all the same, it was written all over him.

You truly believed he wasn't crazy, he just couldn't be. You had read his files over and over again in your office, day after day, trying to figure out what was going on with him. But just like before, you couldn't figure out why he received the treatment he was given. It almost broke your brain trying to wrap your head around it, because nothing about it made sense. The only conclusion you kept coming to was that Sihtric did not need to be medicated, that he truly did not belong at the asylum and that he was simply being mentally tortured and completely silenced for no reason at all. And that all made everything so much more painful.

Every time you met Sihtric one on one he greeted you with a tight hug and a kiss, making it clear that you were his rock in all this madness and that he only really felt safe with you. And Sihtric didn't hide the fact he desperately longed to be with you. He craved to feel you every second he was awake, and it was simply another form of torture but a more pleasant one, or so he believed. And it is not that you didn't have an aching desire for him all the same, but you already told him several times that you and him needed to keep a professional distance, no matter how hard it was. You knew that if you would ever be caught you would get fired, and then there would be no way to help him ever again. But you weren't always strong either, and you often gave in to the temptation of kissing him and allowing yourself to love him without saying the words, by holding him tightly wrapped in your arms as you sat on his bed together. And he'd always tell you how soothing it was to him to hear your heartbeat, and how he had dreamed about you every night since he met you and he called you the most endearing names you had ever heard. 

Sihtric's passion for all things dark and macabre were also part of his love language, as he often gifted you the skulls of small dead animals he had found outside while strolling through the secluded asylum's garden. And he gifted you one again the last time you spoke, when you wanted to hear more about his dreams as he was being vague about those and couldn't quite come to the point of what he felt those dreams meant, but before you could ask him more about it, your private time with him was over again. 

You only had several hours a day with him, and you covered your alone time together by stating it was a form of therapy, which wasn't a complete lie since Sihtric was improving greatly when you managed to decrease his medication for the time being. But it all went wrong again on the night of the full Moon, when Sihtric seemingly lost his mind in the communal room and began to claim something was haunting him. You noticed his pupils were huge when you approached him and his skin was incredibly pale. He scared you for the first time since you met him. He wasn't violent, but you knew something was definitely wrong once he began to shout in Latin towards the centre of the room, where the old fireplace was located.

The alarm soon rang when Sihtric started to shout louder while he was seemingly getting crazier too, and before you could interfere he was already shoved against the wall and pushed down on the floor by several guards. You covered your ears while Sihtric desperately shouted your name for help when he saw Skade approach with a syringe, knowing he was going to be medicated again, and you knew it would be to the point where he mixed up reality and his dreams again. You felt sick when you heard the witch of a nurse order the guards to lock Sihtric into the isolation cell for the night, because you knew that holding cell was just a torture room; you could only stand or sit on the small bench, as there was no place to lay down or get comfortable in any way. And sitting down was painful too, as the space was so small that his knees would press painfully against the metal door. But no one listened to you when you tried to stop him from being tortured once again.

And you cried yourself to sleep that night in your own bed, knowing Sihtric was locked in a tiny dark and cold room, with his hands chained behind his back. And all Sihtric could do was sit painfully squished between the walls and lean his forehead against the cool door, while the medication they kept giving him over night kept him in a delusional state. And the only consolation he had was that he dreamed of you for hours on end while being half awake at all times. 

He wept silently in the dark as he smiled while his mind played tricks on him, because everything felt so real, it was pure bliss to him. The way he met you at a Halloween fair and how he had fallen for you right away. The way you discovered the horror maze together and kissed after you had both tumbled over between the haystacks. How you went ghost hunting together and how he finally took you to that Halloween party, just like he had promised. A soft moan escaped his lips when his mind made him believe he made love to you countless times, and a maniacal laughter echoed through the quiet halls at night as he envisioned the way he killed Skade with an axe, and so broke the curse he believed she had put on him. 

He dreamt of a domestic life with you, cooking dinner for you and being cuddled up on the couch while watching a horror flick late at night. And he desperately murmured your name in the dead of night when he imagined how you pleased him with your mouth, and he drooled with the need to have his head between your thighs to taste your juices in return. And at last he dreamed again of all the lives he lived with you before this one, and he thought of the Vampire of Bebbanburg and how he felt the presence of his ancestor running through his veins at all times.

'Devil,' Sihtric slurred after another dose of medication had been shoved down his throat at three in the morning, 'I got the… devil,' he whispered, exhaustedly, 'devil in my… blood.'

The next morning Sihtric woke up in his bed, confused and disorientated while his wrists ached. His hands searched for you under the sheets, but you weren't there, and he grabbed onto his pillow instead.

You had caught a glimpse of Sihtric when he was being dragged back to his room after spending the night in isolation, his head hanging down while two guards held his arms and left his feet to drag over the floor behind him. You had lost your mind upon seeing the awful state he was in and had argued heatedly with Skade about the medication he was given overnight and his overall treatment.

'You could've killed him!' you shouted, not in control of your emotions anymore.

'And yet he lived!' Skade shrugged, 'something is wrong with him!'

'Have you considered that you are giving him everything that makes it so there is something wrong with him!? Whatever you have been giving him overnight was sure as hell not allowed!'

'The medication leaves his body too fast!' Skade argued, 'it's like his blood fights it within only a few hours! It shouldn't be possible!'

'Then why is no one looking into that!? Has anyone ever brought this up to him-'

'Sihtric claims vampire blood runs through his veins,' Skade scoffed, 'that man is a lunatic! You should've figured that out while you studied him,' she sneered, 'or were you too busy fucking him?'

You froze and swallowed hard. You and Sihtric had never given in to the sexual desires you both had for each other, but you felt that Skade knew there was more going on between the two of you. You shut the conversation down by storming out of the room, and after a few hours of demanding that you wanted to speak with Sihtric in private, you finally were allowed to visit him in his room.

Sihtric immediately lit up upon seeing you as you sat at his table, and you asked him how he was doing. He told you his wrists were aching and you soon found out that Sihtric had no memory of what had happened to him during the night, as he was still stuck in his head and could not separate reality from his dreams anymore, even though he seemed clear headed. You managed to ask him again about the dreams he had, which he had told you about before he got locked away. And he then finally told you his dreams felt like past lives you've had together, and he described several lives in which you supposedly had met and fallen in love, only for it to end in a terrible and heartbreaking way over and over again. Your blood ran cold as you listened to him describe his dreams, because Sihtric wasn't just describing his own dreams in detail, he was also describing the dreams you've been having for years. You have had the same dreams and nightmares long before you met him in the asylum, but the man you dreamt about was always faceless and wild haired, yet now suddenly he seemed to have a face, and it was Sihtric. 

It had always been Sihtric. 

You jumped up and left his room without saying a word, and back home you panicked as you tried to come to your own senses again. Because Sihtric wasn't crazy, and you were always meant to be, but it scared you because how were you supposed to be together in this life?

You met Sihtric again a few days later, after you had taken some time to let everything soak in. He took your breath away when you saw him, as always, and he wanted to hug you and kiss you immediately. It pained you to deny him, so you gave in briefly before you had to make the horrible choice of trying to snap him out of his delusional state. Sihtric quickly became confused and agitated when you kept asking him questions that made no sense to him. He didn't understand why you couldn't remember how you had met him, at the Halloween fair, or all the dates he had taken you on ever since. And Sihtric felt like the ground had opened up beneath his feet, causing him to fall into a black hole like an angel who had lost his wings, once he realised where he was and that all of it had only happened in his head. You tried to calm him down, but his panic had already alarmed the guards. 

And before he was dragged away from you, you confessed your feelings for him and promised him that he wasn't crazy, to which Sihtric begged you to get him out of the asylum. And then you had to watch how he was being taken away from you, again, and this time he would be locked in the asylum's basement, because he had crossed too many lines in only a few days, but he then suddenly began to aggressively resist the punishment. Sihtric's state scared you because of his violent fits that you had witnessed, but the violence you had seen before was nothing compared to what you were to witness next.

You ran after him while Sihtric was being dragged through the gloomy hallway, away from his room and towards the door that led to the basement. But Sihtric managed to break out of the grip that the guards had on him, and it seemed he was stronger than he had ever been before. You watched the horrors unfold as you stood with your back pressed against the wall, only a few paces away, and then Skade appeared with a syringe in her hands to sedate Sihtric once again. But he wasn't going to allow her anymore and he ran past you with blind fury after he had managed to take down the guards. Sihtric made way to the protective glass case mounted on the wall which held a fire axe, meant for emergencies only, but he figured now was a good time for an emergency. He somehow shattered the thick glass with his elbow, causing blood to drip gush out as he tore the axe out of the box, and he stalked towards Skade before she could even understand what was happening.

Everything happened so fast and it was all so chaotic. The alarm blared through the asylum, guards screamed in agony after Sihtric had broken several of their bones, and then the only sound you heard was Sihtric's loud grunts each time he slammed the axe down into Skade's body while she shrieked. You wanted to scream, but no sound left your mouth as you watched her blood splatter everywhere, painting the white walls red, while you felt numb and couldn't seem to stop the massacre that was happening. And deep down you didn't want to stop Sihtric, because you knew what she had done to him all these years, and you also knew that he was completely clear headed now and knew exactly what he was doing. For the first time in a very long time he had managed to take control of his life again, and you would not take that away from him.

More guards and nurses came running when the slaughter was already over, and they found Sihtric covered in blood as he knelt down next to the butchered body. He dropped the axe with a psychotic and satisfied grin on his face before he was beaten unconscious and then thrown into the dark, damp and cold basement, where they chained him to the wall with rusty metal chains.

And now you had to figure out a way to break him out of the asylum.

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[akaiiros]

january blues

Ada Limón, “The Quiet Machine” / Holly Warburton / Ada Limón, “Downhearted” / ig @sebliminal_artist / ig @_kingsada_ / Olivia Laing / Joanna Karpowicz / @ihopeucomehomesoon / ig @fangpeii_ / Ada Limón, “Miracle Fish”

[tvgirlzz]

Gwen Stacy x fem!reader

notes: did not proofread this but enjoy 😣 also the only story I’ve really written was an English assignment on a book so feel free to give critiques if you have any 😋👍

“Sit still, Gwen!” You laughed as she moved uncomfortably.

Gwen had snuck into your window and while you were trying to decide what you wanted to make your art project on. Your teacher said it ‘had to be something close to you and not a random thing you traced from the internet.’ It was unbelievable the amount of times someone in your class used a dog they never met before for their project. Being the amazing girlfriend you are, you decided to make your project on her.

Which brings you to now, watching Gwen squirm uncontrollably on your bed.

“How long is this gonna take Y/N? I don’t think I can feel my butt anymore.” She complained, shifting around.

“Not long, I swear! Only a few more minutes.” Your brush delicately strokes, the light watercolors slightly dripping down the canvas. Painting beautiful pastel colors such as blue for her eyes, yellow to match her blonde hair, and topping it off with a pink and purple background.

Making sure to miss no detail, you picked up a small tipped brush. Carefully painting the small dots of her freckles, to the small, visible veins on her hands.

“Are you done yet? Lemme see!” She stood up, picking at the canvas in front of you.

“No! Sit down!” You lightly pushed her back down, moving her hands so she could pose again.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise. You can see the finished product once my teacher grades it.”

Setting the brush down, your eyes scanned all over the canvas. Sighing, you bit your lip nervously. This was good, right? You knew your art teacher was a hard critic but very easy on the grading. So why were you nervous?

“What’s wrong, babe?” Gwen furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to read your facial expression. She stood up and walked behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and laying her head on top of yours.

“If it makes you feel any better, I love it.” She knew you didn’t want her to see it yet, but she couldn’t help it. Your art was one of her favorite things about you. How different and unique it was.

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet..” You whispered in a downhearted tone.

She kissed the top of your head and hugged her tighter. “I know, but I can’t help myself. Your art is so beautiful.” Gwen was trying to cheer you up since she knew how much pressure you put on yourself to make these projects perfect.

“And your muse is pretty hot, don’t you think?” She smirked and poked your cheek.

Letting out a chuckle, you let your lips curve into a small smile. “Yeah, she is. The prettiest muse ever.” You move your head to look up at her.

She smiled back at her and gave you a sweet peck on the lips. “Don’t worry about this, okay? You’re the best artist ever and probably better than everyone in your class. I’ve seen some of those works and damn- it’s awful.”

“Maybe we’ve seen different works because everyone in my class is advanced.”

She gasped. “You call Ned’s self portrait advanced?!”

“That’s different, he’s just really bad at art.” You stood up from your stool, let Gwen’s arm slide off of you. Picking up the canvas, you move it to your desk where it can hopefully dry. Then, you felt Gwen grab your waist as she turned you around to look at her.

“I love you, alright? And if you don’t get a good grade on this, just know that I still think you’re the best artist in the world.” She placed one hand on your hip and the other resting on your cheek, stroking it lovingly with her thumb.

“I love you too.” You replied in a soft tone. She smiled at you and leaned down to give you a kiss.

Pulling away, she moved her hand down into your pants pocket. “Now come on, I want to lay down together and binge a show. That’s why I came here.”

“Alright, you can pick.” You handed her your tv remote and crawled into your bed. She hopped in after you and laid her head down on your chest, letting you run your fingers through her hair.

As you and Gwen spent the rest of the night watching 90’s television shows, your art project slowly dried on your desk. Leaving bright, colorful watercolor marks as Gwen’s painted face stood still on the canvas.

She was really the prettiest muse you could ever have.

{ written by @loversrockxx please don’t steal 🙏🏽 }

[hayanwulf]

Painful Flowers

Tony stared down at the scene in abject horror.

Flowers and petals pooled the entire floor of the room. The large four-poster bed had literally turned into a flower bed, comprising of flora unlike anything on Earth. Their shapes and colors were otherworldly, some colors unrecognizable even, each one of them possessing an unfathomable beauty.

And amidst it, covered in thorny vines and soft flowers, lay the cold, motionless body of Stephen Strange.

Tony had never hated flowers more in his life than he did right at that moment.

He slowly stepped in, his gut twisting into knots, senses repelled by the sweet, floral scent in the air, trying to ignore the way the petals felt squashy under his boots.

This had to be a nightmare. This had to be. Maybe if he punched himself now, he’d find himself back in his workshop, neck lying on his desk in an appalling angle that would pain him for the rest of the day; back in a world where, with just a quick call, the wizard would instantly show up at his workshop, walking out of a sparking portal with a haughty remark on his lips, his cloak fluttering on non-existent wind.

It was exactly a week ago that he had done just that.

Exactly a week ago when he had seemed fine. Or the week before that, during Tony and Pepper’s wedding. Or the week before that, when they had met up for their usual lunch date.

He had been completely fine.

There had been no outward signs. No coughing or concerning shortage of breath. No indications of a sad or downhearted mood. No traces of anything being wrong. No, he had simply been his usual self. Snarky, throwing playful banters around with Tony that they both found easy to engage in, sharp as a pencil with his comebacks, a trace of content satisfaction always wrapped around his aura whenever he was around Tony.

He could still recall the brightened expression in the sorcerer’s face when they had met last week, that small, genuine smile he had given Tony, his eyes sparkling with a special kind of attention which they didn’t seem to hold for many people in this world.

“Are you happy?” He had asked Tony, at the end of the day. “With you marriage?”

“Couldn’t imagine being happier,” Tony had replied, letting all of his contentment pour into his words.

“I’m happy for you, Tony.”

They hadn’t met after that day. Tony had sent a couple of texts, especially one about their missed lunch date on Wednesday, and had never gotten a reply. But that hadn’t raised any concerns or suspicions. Why would it have? They were superheroes, their lives were busy and unpredictable.

And now, a week later, Stephen lay lifelessly in his own bed, succumbed to Hanahaki.

Unpredicted in the most unpredictable way.

Tony dared to look down at the man’s face.

There was some scabbed blood at a corner of his lips, red-bathed flowers lying next to his head and on his neck from where he had obviously coughed them out of his lungs. Even in his frozen state, his eyebrows were a little tense, scrunched-up as though in pain.

It was very slow and very painful, Tony realized.

The thought made something squeeze painfully tight in his chest.

A blue butterfly sat on his nose, its wings opening and closing slowly. Tony had no way of knowing if it was supposed to be one of his magic butterflies, or if it had simply found its way in through some crack on the windows, allured by the fragrant flowers.

Sickening flowers.

There was a disturbing-looking thin, green vine coming out of the side of his eye. Thorns dotted the length of the vine, needle-thin and menacing.

He had wept thorny vines, not normal tears.

And it looked excruciating.

Tony hadn’t even known that was something possible in Hanahaki. Probably shouldn’t be. Probably had to do something with magic, the same magic that had resulted in all of these unrecognizable flowers Tony was staring down at, instead of normal, Earthly flowers.

“How..?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Wong sighed softly from somewhere at his right. Tony didn’t care to look as the other sorcerer spoke, his eyes unable to leave the impossibly pale, lifeless man lying in front of him.

“According to the apprentices, he locked himself in a week ago. I was gone to another dimension the entire week. When I came back it was to learn that he hadn’t been seen around the entire time. It took me hours to break the spells he put up to ward his room.” A pause, then a tentative, “He left us sometime last night.”

Tony’s eyes stung as he took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Nothing made sense here. “He visited me a week ago. He was fine.” His words quivered.

“Don’t forget that he.. was, a powerful sorcerer. He’s been hiding his condition for a while.”

Tony snapped his head over to Wong, glaring at him through tears. “Not powerful enough to overcome fucking petal disease?”

He vibrated with anger. Whether that was towards Wong or the unmoving man on the bed or that fucked up disease, he didn’t know.

It didn’t make sense. You didn’t just die from Hanahaki, not in 21st century where you had effective solutions for symptom management and high-tech life support, where you had access to therapy and support communities and what-fucking-not. Very, very rarely did Hanahaki progress into a terminal stage in the modern world, and those were almost always cases where the person’s unrequited love or significant other had passed away, leaving them with no way of having a closure.

Wong’s own gaze was stuck on Stephen, eyes stricken with grief and what seemed like guilt. “Then maybe his love was more powerful than his magic.”

The comment made him recoil, his stomach twisting with a complicated mix of emotions he didn’t understand, his eyes moving back to the bed of flowers.

Stephen had never told him anything. He.. they had been friends. At least.. at least Tony had thought so.

Clearly, Stephen hadn’t shared the sentiment. Because Tony had never been told about this.. this soul-crushing love Stephen had held for someone in this world. He had sat next to Tony through tedious meetings about the Accords, had shared lunch with Tony every Wednesday, had taught Tony the endless wonders of magic, had made him love magic rather than fear it, had listened to Tony rant late at night about his latest inventions..

He had fought alongside Tony on Titan, had stayed with him through pain and hopelessness and victory. He had stood by Tony’s side as the government had welcomed Rogers back to the states and he had never left.

And yet.. yet he’d never trusted Tony enough to confide in him, to tell him that he held someone so close to his heart.

No, instead he had chosen to lock himself up in his room for the final days of his life, withering away as more and more tragically beautiful flowers sprouted out of his misery.

It stung.

It stung so bad, it constricted around Tony’s heart and lungs like a python’s death grip, dug its disgusting blackened claws deep into the crevices of his soul, made it hard to breathe as he attempted to suck in a ragged breath.

Suddenly the pain morphed, and a vengeful kind of anger rose, higher and higher until it was boiling just beneath his skin. He turned his eyes to Wong.

“Who?”

Wong closed his eyes in a pained movement, shaking his head. “It is not my place to tell.”

Between one moment and another, Tony had crossed over to the sorcerer, holding the neck of his tunic in a vicious grip, eyes fiercely glaring down at the other man. “Don’t fucking bullshit me, Wong,” he spat, voice almost a growl from the ferocious anger roaring inside of him. “He’s.. he’s gone and it doesn’t matter anymore whose place it is to tell! Who did he love?”

Wong did not wither under his gaze in the least. “And what will you do, once you learn their name?”

“I will give them a piece of my fucking mind,” he snarled. “I will tell them how despicable a person they are, for not accepting his love.” For rejecting the person who would have given them an endless repertoire of affection, who would have treated them with nothing less than utmost respect, who was possibly, quite literally, capable of plucking the moon and stars out of the sky on their command.

How fucking dare they not even give him a chance?

Tony would not forgive them. He would tell them exactly what they had done, what they had turned down.

To be entirely honest, he was currently in a state of mind where he would probably just uproot their entire life and personally make sure that they would never be able to experience love again.

Wong didn’t need to know that, however.

“And what if they didn’t know?”

Tony’s grip wavered a little. “What?”

“What if Stephen had never confessed his love, as you seem to assume.”

He looked at the sorcerer from one eye to the other, feeling his own eyebrows crease progressively. “He would.”

Wong shook his head. “He didn’t.”

Tony abruptly released the sorcerer, stepping back as frustration boiled in his chest. “He would. Why wouldn’t he? If he loved them so much..” If he loved them enough to reach the terminal stage of Hanahaki, to not seek treatment in time.. surely, that meant that he had confessed his love to them?

Nobody died of Hanahaki. Nobody wanted to die — well, except suicidal people, but they didn’t necessarily go seeking out Hanahaki for that particularly. Nobody would.

Hanahaki was cruel. It was torture, the worst kind of body horror. It slowly turned your insides into flowers, pretty and fragrant and absolutely sardonic with the way it birthed beauty out of your despair, making you feel every bit of agony as you lost parts of yourself bit by bit, quite literally.

So no, there was no way Stephen would’ve wanted that. Surely, he’d have tried to court his love first before giving up so hopelessly, right?

“He had his reasons, Stark,” Wong said, and Tony couldn’t believe this. No. He couldn’t take this anymore.

What fucking reason warranted preferring to die over never getting over, nor confessing his love?

Why?

Why?

He wanted to walk over to Stephen, grab his shoulders by force and shake him, maybe slap him a few until he expelled all the answers. God, he wished he could do that right now.

‘I’m happy for you, Tony.’

He wished he had asked Stephen at that moment, if he was happy.

He wished he could rewind time. Wished he could go back to the previous week and ask exactly that. And then pin the sorcerer down in his workshop, not let him leave, plug him to a life support right then and there and bully him into accepting treatment.

He wished he could just.. talk to him.

About all the damn questions and mysteries swirling in Tony’s mind. About everything that Tony should have talked about, sooner. About why Stephen thought that his love for this person was important enough to give up his life for.

Why.

Why..

Damn it, Stephen.

His legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor, thick, hot tears streaming down his face. His hand touched the floor, and caught the silken texture of petals. He clamped his fist over them until it hurt, feeling the sickening velvet getting crushed in his grip.

The blue butterfly that had been giving Stephen company, fluttered down to Tony and settled on his thigh, almost as though trying to provide him a soothing touch with its weightless wings. One last piece of Stephen, trying to tell him, it’s okay.

It was the only semblance of comfort.

And an absolute joke of a closure.

Because he knew nothing. He had no answers, and now, he would never have the chance to obtain them.

[vonpharma]

W[H]IP WEDNESDAAAAAY

sorry im late my bank account was fucked and i needed to be mad for a while. here's something from my day 9 of sicktember!

Rolling to her side, Maya feels the congestion shift in her skull, bump into the back of her eyes before sinking down into one nostril and damming it fully. The movement burns as it comes and goes, sparking into a horrible itch that builds and builds and builds, and the tissue box is on the other side of the bed, and all Maya can do is curl into herself and sneeze desperately and viciously into her bunched-up comforter. She doesn’t have to look at the aftermath to know how disgusting it is—it’s been like this all night, tossing and turning in her empty apartment in a desperate attempt to get even a few minutes of rest.

Looking past the cover of the blanket, she can see her phone flipped onto its back, in desperate need of charging. She can’t put it on the charger, though, because to put it on the charger would mean to touch it, and to touch it would mean to fight the biblical temptation to open and check it, and Maya’s not strong enough to resist or brave enough to face what she might find there.

Instead, Maya stares. Stares at her phone in a hell of her own making, breathing painfully through her mouth and running through invasive thought after invasive thought that tells her she blew her chances for good, flaking out the way she has. Downhearted, Maya lets her eyes flutter shut in resignation, trying to guide those thoughts toward anything but Franziska von Karma. 

Franziska von Karma and her silky-rich voice. Franziska von Karma and her curving, enchanting accent. Franziska von Karma’s long, elegant fingers, her always-shimmery hair, her conniving half-smirk, her crystal-blue eyes—

Maya’s phone vibrates, several inches away. It tickles at her cheek, brights her eyelids in the split second before they snap open, before she dives for the thing and flips its pink finish back. In the haze of illness, her oversore eyes need a moment to adjust—she fumbles with the arrow keys, desperate to check her texts. At 2% battery, she’s on an unfortunate time limit, and so she races to her messages and selects the newest one without processing anything about it and sees—

[MagiSteel Trashlord]: Good afternoon, Maya. Forgive me for contacting you unprompted like this, but I was wondering if you were still at the Cerise address?

Right. Just Edgeworth. Who was she to expect anything different?

Feeling twice as low as before, Maya replies with a simple ‘yeag’ and closes out of the window. Whatever plans he wants to make, they can wait until she’s done mourning all the face-sucking she’s not doing with his crazy-hot sister. 

And Maya knows. She knows she shouldn’t. She knows it isn’t going to make her feel any better… but if her phone is already in her hand, she might as well check. Get it out of her system, and get back to wallowing and eventually moving on.

An attempt is made to take a deep breath, but it really just ends up making her cough the second it hits her tender throat. Regardless, Maya powers through—clicking herself one down to the message she’d sent at six in the morning. There on the lip of her bathtub, hair dripping a puddle onto the failing bathmat as she shivered. Her clothes laid out on the counter in preparation the night before—she would not be late, she would not get distracted, she would impress the pretty girl with the eye for perfection, enough that maybe someday she wouldn’t have to.

So much for that.

Hovering over the send button for what must’ve been a good hour. Jaw set, face tight, trying not to cry—crying would just make the headache worse, and she only had enough tissues in the house for a breakdown or a common cold, not both at the same time. Poking and prodding at the phrasing, the word choice, the grammatical structure—things Maya never even dreamed of caring about before she met Franziska. Why do I care so much? Why do I want her to like me so bad?

A thirty-third readthrough. Above her, the failing bathroom fan stutters in tandem with her wavering heart.

[Me]: Hey, Franziska, I hope you’re doing well. I’m really sorry to bail on you like this but I caught a pretty bad cold and it doesn’t seem like it’s getting any better. I feel like hot garbage and I figure I’m not exactly date material right now, you think we can reschedule? 

And there at the top of her screen it remains.

Maya’s almost grateful for her dinosaur of a phone. If she lived in a world of read receipts, she’s certain her despair would be tenfold, right now. For so long she’d given Nick shit for that dilapidated brick he carried around, but knowing how anxious of a creature he could be, maybe he was just being smart. More likely, he’s just a notorious cheapskate, and skimping on tech comes with at least a few benefits.

Defeated, Maya snaps the thing shut and throws an arm over the pressure bursting behind her eyes. By now, the sunlight has crept in through her dented blinds, illuminating the offwhite of the walls and turning it into a sleep deprivation chamber. Maya knows she’s not going to be able to squeeze any more rest out of this day.

She should get up and fix her fitted sheet. She should get up and throw her snotty blankets in the wash. She should get up and plug her phone in. She should get up and answer her door.

Instead, she just lays there, an invisible weight balanced on her chest. The bathroom fan is still humming. The traffic outside joins it. The knocking at her door grows urgent, and in her head Maya wills the solicitor away. No one should be forced to see her, right now. She barely wants to see herself.

Gripped loosely in her fingers, then, her phone vibrates.

Another deep breath. Maya thumbs the thing open, poised there on her one-sided plea for even a modicum of Franziska’s time. She’s ready to hit the back button, certain it’s just Edgeworth following up, already having accepted her heartbreak when her eyes fully adjust again and—

[Prosecutie]: Answer your door.

Her phone dies.

“Shit!”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

homesick

adjective /ˈhōmˌsik/ /ˈhəʊm.sɪk/

experiencing a longing for one's home during a period of absence from it

unhappy because of being away from home for a long period

related words & phrases: abject, be in bits, be out of sorts, bereft, bittersweet, blues, broken, brooding, bruised, careworn, chagrined, cheerlessly, choked up, crestfallen, deflated, dejected, demoralized, depressed, desolate, despondent, disaffected, disappointed, disconsolate, disenchanted, disgruntled, disheartened, disillusioned, dismal, dismayed, displeased, dissatisfied, distraught, distressed, doleful, dour, down, downcast, downhearted, dystopia, forlorn, frustrated, fussy, glum, grieving, grim, gutted, hapless, harrowed, heartbroken, heartsick, heavy-hearted, homesick, hurt, in distress, in pieces, inconsolable, injured, isolated, joyless, lacerated, lachrymose, lonely, lonesome, longing, lovelorn, lovesick, low-spirited, lugubrious, martyred, maudlin, melancholic, miserable, moody, mopey, morose, mournful, nostalgic, pained, pity party, regretful, repine, screwed up, self-pitying, sentimental, shaky, shattered, sick, sick at heart, someone's heart sinks to/into their boots, sorrowful, the doldrums, this vale of tears, traumatized, triggered, unfulfilled, unhappy, unmerry, unpleased, unslakable, unsmiling, upset, vale, wish you had never been born, wistful, woe, wounded, wretched

etymology: Earliest known use is from 1748, in Coll. Hymns from Hymn-book Moravian Brethren: Part III. Homesick is formed within English, by compounding. Etymons: home (noun), sick (adj)

“When you feel homesick,’ he said, ‘just look up. Because the moon is the same wherever you go.” ― Donna Tartt

“All water is off on a journey unless it's in the sea, and it's homesick, and bound to make its way home someday.” — Zora Neale Hurston

“It's a kindness that the mind can go where it wishes.” ― Publius Ovidius Naso

“It'll be spring soon. And the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket. And they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields…and eating the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?” ― J.R.R. Tolkien

Sources: 1 2 3

[twstgarden]

✿ ❝ 𝗺𝗶𝘅𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀 ❞

━ idia shroud x gn! reader ━ idia and you are the best of friends, but he keeps giving you mixed signals. f/n means first name.

this happens right after chapter 6.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

"idia?"

"are you there?"

a sigh escaped your lips as you sent a message to idia. he was ignoring you for a while now and you have no idea why, you thought of sending him a message to see if he would reply, but there was no sign of him ever reading or replying. it was merely a few days ago when you two were having fun, playing video games together and binge-watching your favourite anime for the whole weekend, and now he's suddenly ignoring you.

feeling downhearted, you locked your device and placed it back on your desk. a few moments passed and you decided to visit idia over at ignihyde, to see if he was alright, and so you did.

you found yourself standing before the ignihyde dormitory manager's dorm room, knocking on the door as you spoke, "idia? it's me. are you there?"

it was silent for a while until you received a notification from your phone. you took out your device and looked at it, realizing it was a text from idia that says, "come in."

a slightly disappointed sigh left your lips as you entered his room, crossing your arms as you said, "you could've verbalized your presence... anyway, are you alright, ids? you've been kinda ignoring my messages lately."

idia was seated on his chair, facing the screen as he did not even dare to look at you. his room was completely dark with the blue screen being the only source of light. ortho was nowhere to be found, presumably back in his room to either take a rest or work on his schoolwork.

"i'm just a little busy."

his response was curt and soft, making you blink your eyes in confusion before turning around, "oh... okay, i won't bother you for a while, then! let me know if you need any help."

seeing you turn around as you were about to take your leave, idia's bored expression suddenly changed into a slightly surprised one as he called out to you, "w-wait! uh... i'm free right now..."

he then paused for a few seconds, likely regretting his impulsive actions and realizing he can't back out now, seeing as you turned to look at him with a curious gaze, "...i'm free right now... um... do you want to... hang for a bit?"

you hummed softly as you sat beside him, patting his shoulder with a cheeky grin as you spoke, "sure! wanna play star rogue?" idia's eyes twinkled at the mention of his favourite game as he nodded, and you two spent quite some time challenging each other on who gets the highest score.

a few hours have passed and you were lazily sitting on idia's bed with a bowl of candies in hand, eyeing the screen as he set it to a new anime that was released recently. your eyes were glued to the scenes as you ate some candies, paying no attention to idia who was dividing his attention to both you and the screen.

he had no idea what was going on with him. sure, you two have known each other long enough to be considered best friends, but why is he suddenly feeling so... warm and nervous around you? this was odd. this is totally out of character for him, as he says, but still, he could not fathom the reason why he felt butterflies every time he sees you smile, or how he felt so spoiled and happy every time you'd hang with him and pour all your attention on him.

'that was so damn cheesy,' thought idia as he shook his thoughts away. he let out a soft, heavy sigh before looking back at the screen, nibbling on some candies as he focused his attention back on the anime.

you heard his heavy sigh, which caused you to turn your head to look at him. "you alright?"

he merely hummed in response as he pointed at the screen, "i'm just a little pissed at that character... that was a stupid move."

you chuckled at his words, shaking your head gently before looking back at the screen and focusing on the show that was running.

there it was again.

another week has passed and idia's been doing the same thing again, completely ignoring your calls and texts, refusing to see you or speak to you in public even through his tablet, and lately, he wasn't even answering as you knocked on his door.

"goddammit, is he ghosting me?"

you mumbled to yourself as you sighed heavily, placing your hands on your head as you keep your phone on the desk, still unlocked as it showed your most recent texts to idia.

"yo."

"hey."

"idia?"

"are you in your room?"

"i met with ortho today, he told me you didn't want to see me."

"are you angry?"

not even left on read, he totally left your message in his inbox. how frustrating yet depressing. he was your closest friend on the entire campus, he knew your deepest darkest secrets and you knew his. you were there during his overblot incident, you were there when you saw how he willingly would give up his own life just to be with his brother again, you were there when he needed a shoulder to cry on, you were there when he needed you the most, and he was the same with you.

at least, before he started giving these mixed signals.

you did not know what to do. should you cry? should you lash out at him? should you act on impulse? should you ignore him back to teach him a lesson? grim was not around as he was at heartslabyul and the ghosts are presumably somewhere else, so you were all alone in your room.

whatever.

you hugged your knees to your chest as you sniffled, holding your phone with one hand as you stared at the screen. soon, you started typing a few messages, hoping that if he ever does read your texts through his notifications, this might catch his attention.

"idia... are you mad at me? did i say something bad? if something is going on, you can tell me rather than giving me these mixed signals. it's frustrating... you want me to hang out with you and then the next minute, you ignore me and push me away as if i was nothing but a stranger to you. i don't want to keep inconveniencing you if our friendship is too much for you to bear, just please let me know..."

and send.

a heavy sigh of relief left your lips as you closed your eyes, but that relief was mixed with anxiety and tension. you deeply cherished your friendship with him, you really do, but if he doesn't feel the same way after all that happened, then you think there is no point in staying friends with him.

meanwhile, back in ignihyde, idia was receiving your texts, but he was not opening them to read or reply. as soon as your message came through his notifications again, he read its contents before sighing softly to himself.

"i'm sorry, f/n. i don't have the guts to tell you how i feel. you're better off without me anyway..."

ortho was in the same room as him as the younger shroud frowned at his brother's words. he had long figured out how his brother feels for you, and he can say for certain that you feel the same way, but seeing this exact scene in front of him where you both were suffering because none of you dared to confess frustrates him a lot.

well, the little shroud is more than pleased to help out and fix this mess for you two.

© twstgarden 2023 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[billboard-hotties-tourney]

Bessie Smith (1894-1937) solo Songs: "Downhearted Blues," "Alexander's Ragtime Band" Propaganda: see visual

Agnetha Fältskog (1950-) ABBA - vocals Songs: "SOS," "Voulez Vous" Propaganda: "she’s so pretty and also won the “europe’s sexiest bottom” award in 1977 so she has literal award-winning hotness"

Audio Propaganda for Bessie Smith: 1

Visual Propaganda for Bessie Smith:

Visual Propaganda for Agnetha Fältskog:

[stayandcozy]

Chapter 0: Birds of…

Chapter Summary: Solana navigates a difficult situation as she seeks to support herself and her mother. Facing tough choices, she has an unexpected breakthrough that brings a sense of hope and change, offering her a glimpse of a brighter future.

WORD COUNT: 3715

Masterlist

Characters

Next Chapter

“You’re missing a hundred and seventy three dollars Solana. I made an exception for your mother last month but I can’t do it again. I need you to get the rest to me by tonight.” 

Fuck. Saturdays. What a shame such a beautiful day had to be ruined by that god awful, unrelenting fire in me every other Saturday seemed to bring. I could hear my mom’s voice in my head as the feelings bubbled to the surface. Think of the best thing that happened to you today. Even with her aged face, Mom’s beauty never faltered. That’s because it shines brightly from within. Something that wasn’t biological, apparently. 

I looked Mr. Romaro in the eyes, gauging if there was any way he was bluffing but I only found his lips thinned in a line and the hint of sorrow behind his spectacles. 

When I leaned my head back to take a breath, I saw the water damage littered on the ceiling. He needed the money just as badly as I did. I tried to think back over my day, quick flashes of blurred memories passed behind my eyes. Then one came in clear. It was of my favorite old lady, other than my mom, smiling fondly at me as I tried to get change for my pack of gum. When she realized I didn’t have enough she slid it across the counter and nodded her head in acknowledgment. 

“Alright. I’ll see you later then Mr. Romaro. I’m sorry about th—”

“It’s okay Solana. Tonight, alright?”

The need to scream and slam my fist against the brick wall outside tempted me. But we didn’t need a broken hand on top of everything else. 

Navigating the streets of New York should have been second nature to me. But it wasn’t. I hated the way sweaty bodies pressed up against me. I hated the way men walked through the streets like they owned it. I mostly hated that it was Saturday in the city. And I couldn’t enjoy the warm weather and blue skies because all I could think about was how later that night I’d have to see my mom’s exhausted and downhearted face. 

Mom knew me better than anyone and because of that it was no surprise she could see how miserable I’ve been the last three years. Whenever I’d manage to get cast, our rent would be due and I’d have to leave the project to take on odd jobs. It wasn’t mom’s fault, she provided the best she could. But I know those nights of hearing me sob ate her insides alive until she was nothing but skin and bones. 

I should have rejected her proposal. I knew better. But when she was sitting on the couch, her knees touching mine, with my face in her hands… I don’t think even the coldest of men could have said no to her. I wish I could have been cold. Because now we were here on a miserable fucking Saturday. Missing rent money, behind on credit cards, all because mom wanted me to chase my dreams. But when have dreams ever paid the bills?

“Mom, are you home?” I called out while entering the apartment.

Nothing but the leaky drip in the corner and the muffled dialogue of some old rerun on the tv. I clicked it off and sat on the couch. The metallic thunk of the water hitting the bucket was beckoning me into a sleep state. One I so desperately wanted to give into. Just as my eyes became too heavy to fight, a jingling of keys and mumbled curse words sounded just behind the front door. My body went on autopilot trying to sit up, arising like a vampire and trying to blink the verge of sleep away. 

“—you know that's not fair, Mike. I have been with you guys for years! Fucking years! You can’t just—No I won’t, you don’t—No, Mike, you fucking don’t—I’ve been a great team member—Then what is it about? Don’t you dare end this conversation—Mike!”

Mom threw the mail in her arms and kicked at one floating down. “God damnit all to hell!” Mom never used to swear. She did a lot these days. It was surreal to see first hand what the pressure of money did to happy people. 

“Mike fired you?” I asked. As if caught with her hand in the cookie jar her eyes widened and she flinched. 

“Jeez Lana, you scared me. Aren’t you supposed to be at a reading?”

”Went with another actor. All good. Hey momma, did you accidentally leave out some money from rent?”

”I thought he’d maybe let it slide. He wasn’t mean to you was he?”

”No. Do you happen to have it? Mr. Romaro says he’ll give us until midnight to get it to him.” 

She started rummaging through her purse, frantically pulling out ones and a few fives. “Come here Sunshine, can you help me count while I look?”

I hummed a response and crawled over to where she had thrown the mail. Picking it up and tapping it on the counter, I stacked the pile and set it down. Large red letters glared back at me. I used to love the color red, until I found out the way banks highlight phrases in red to scare you. Now all I can see in it is a threatening undertone that makes me uncomfortable. I flipped the top one upside down. Mom then handed me the cash from her purse and walked into the kitchen. I sat and counted. One, two, three, four, five, ten, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. She opened the fridge and brought out a short metal cylinder. One of those ones rich people liked to make ice cream in. God, what I would give for her only worries be about what kind of ice cream she was going to make this week. 

“I swear I had something here—Lana did you take it?”

”We used that to pay for electricity. What about the safe in your room?”

”Yeah… Let me go see.”

Time was against me. Drive I had, and passion consumed me. Yet my time to break into the industry never came. If I didn’t land something consistent soon, Mom was going to die in this shitty apartment. She does so much for others, the very least I could do is take her far away from here. Somewhere where the rain is a welcomed friend, not a deathly worry. 

“I needed to pay back Mrs. Esters for the food she gave us. The safe money is gone too.” She paused, her eyes scanning the kitchen and living. “Okay! Um.. What about…the couch! We find money in there sometimes!” She finally says. 

Before I could get up, she was already tearing off the cushions of the loveseat and throwing them near me. A half laugh fell from my lips seeing her pull an old pair of glasses from the depths of the worn couch. She tossed them aside and kept digging. The pile of cash felt magnetic to my eyes. I vowed to myself and Mom that I wouldn’t go back to that abomination they called a “Dance House,” but seeing the crushing desperation in Mom, it became clear. I was going to have to go back to Danny if we wanted to keep good standing with Mr. Romaro. 

She finally stood up, her hair flying out in wild ways, she was breathing a little heavy. Fuck. Not in the shitty apartment. She deserves better. “I think I’d rather have found nothing than a few coins and a dollar.” 

Mom’s pupils were blown and though she held a positive demeanor, I could see the panic swirling behind them. So I did what she taught me to do, smile when you think people need it. Her shoulders dropped slightly and her eyes got shiny.

“It’ll be okay Momma. I think Mrs. Abbadi has some work for me. I talked to her earlier at the gas station. I’ll go swing by. Can I borrow your backpack?”

“Sure Sunshine.”

She headed towards the bedroom and I leapt up. One of Mom’s quirks, one we often laughed about, was her short term memory loss. The backpack was hanging on the hook near the door. I had probably two minutes before she got upset and came back out. The problem with living in a one bedroom apartment with your parent was the lack of privacy. All of my clothes were in a big trunk we used as a coffee table. I opened it and dug through the piles until I found the lacy black set I was looking for. That set always made me the most money. It was my desperation set. I snagged a jacket and bundled the lingerie inside, checking over my shoulder just in time to see mom coming out again.

“—tell me how a backpack just disappears!”

“All good, I don’t need it.”

“Why are you bringing a jacket? It’s 85 out.”

“Just in case, you never know.”

She narrowed her eyes, and it felt like I was cemented in place by some sort of maternal magic. Her gaze was reaching deep into my soul, and I begged, pleaded, for some divine power to blind her just this once. Only when she released her breath did I release mine. I turned on my heel, desperate to get away from her all knowing eyes, but before I could reach the door, she stopped me.

“Come here.” She said. I felt panic rise in me. Then she turned me around and planted a soft loving kiss to my temple. “I’m sorry. I love you. Better days will come for us.” 

The panic morphed into guilt and my eyes felt tingly. “I love you too Mom.” I hoped she couldn’t hear the quiver laced in my voice, and even more so, I hoped she didn’t see the backpack hanging. 

Red Lights was the name of New York's scummiest strip club. The building itself was actually really clean for such a dirty place. If it wasn’t for slimy men and god awful management, the neon lights and dancing girls would have been a welcomed scene. Before my dreams of voice acting, I saw myself like many young girls do, as a ballerina. Dancing was rejuvenating. But when the hard times came, it was one of the many things tainted for me. 

The street that held Red Lights wasn’t the safest. People lingered around the bars. A drugged out woman would pass by swaying into you trying to pick a fight. A man would cat call you across the street, then get angry when you ignored him. It was always the worst nights at the club when they would follow me in. They never gave money and always got too handsy. 

Dusk was coming as I turned the corner to the infamous street. A group of men stood outside the club with their arms crossed. I could see Danny, a man much smaller than them, push one back. He only tripped a little but it was enough for it to clearly offend the drunk man. I walked up to them just as Danny’s meathead came out. He chased them off and returned to a position by the door. 

“No fuckin’ way, ain’t it the brightest day in hell whens you come around Sunny.” Laughed Danny as he opened the door for me. 

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that.”

“Awww—Ma still the only one allowed?”

“Do you have room for an extra dancer? Tonight only.”

“Just your luck. Destiny called in, told me shes got herself the fuckin’ clap.”

“Yeah. Lucky me.”

“Though you wanna only do tonight yeah? I’ll have to charge an uprated fee for the space. I’m feelin’ nice. Sixty.”

“Jesus Danny, last time it was only forty dollars—”

“No, no, no, no. You misunderstand me. Sixty percent.”

“What the hell? Since when?”

“Since now. Or ya know,  you could always sign with the club. I’d be happy to drop you to the normal rate then.”

“Fuck you.”

“ Now that’s a pretty idea too Sunny. Maybe if you suck me off real nice I’ll think about dropping it.”

“Fuck. You.”

I balled my fist in my hand, using every ounce of will power in me to not slap Danny’s smug face. The brute outside surely wouldn’t have cared if he had to hit me. He’s done it to plenty of the other girls when Danny didn’t get his way. I turned to leave but the jacket in my hands became heavy. Mom crossed my mind. Would she be horrified to know what I was doing to stop our eviction? It was stupid of me to even entertain. I could feel Danny’s presence behind me. It was as if I had an angel and devil sandwiching me. The angel was calling to me in my subconscious telling me not to turn around. But the devil behind me, painted images in my head of my mom, sick and starving on the streets. So I turned around.

“You can have your sixty percent, but I’d sooner die than blow you. Poor Destiny probably got chlamydia from you.”

I braced myself for the slap I thought was inevitably coming but he just laughed off the insult and tapped my butt a few times. 

“Better take some private rooms tonight. You may not be fuckin’ me tonight but you will be fuckin’ someone.” He howled with more laughter as he walked off. 

When Danny’s soul was being created, I like to think that they added too much narcissism and slime, then accidentally sent him off unfinished. Because that’s all the man was. Plump like a  ball of disease, horniness and an ego that rivaled even Napoleon. Don’t let him shake you, Solana. A cold shower could wash off the sweat from dancing. But it would never take away the dirt he slathered on me.  

While walking to the back I peeked into the main room. Flashing pink and red lights lit up the audience, and within the crowd I could see a few of the regulars. They paid well for private dancing except rooms with them often held little dancing. So I agreed with myself, to only use them as a last resort. I waved to a few of the girls I knew and made my way to the dressing room. The Red Light Club made an obscene amount of money, so I knew it was simply Danny's perverted idea to have no bathrooms, stalls, or any sort of privacy for the girls in the club. If the dancers needed to pee, they would go to the public one where men could get a free mini show. Or if the dancers needed to change, they would have to strip in front of one another. It was an act that didn’t bug most of them. I wasn’t most. 

I felt humiliated as the girls watched me undress in the mirror. None of them ever said anything negative to me, in fact they often would try to boost my confidence before my turn. What kind of sick person does something so dehumanizing, complain about it, then comes back over and over again. Red Light had its claws in me. And much like how my mom gave her life to that diner, if I didn’t get out, I was going to give my life to this club. 

Latex was a very popular choice for the dancers to wear. Every single time I brought out the same simple black lace teddy, I felt insecure. Looking in the mirror, I figdeted with the fabric near my breasts. I only needed to do a few hours on stage and maybe a few private dances. I could do it. The corners of my eyes started to itch and I stared as the stray tear rolled down my face. 

“Hey Solana, Danny says you’re on in two,” said a short and curvy blonde woman. 

I tapped the wetness on my face away and she gave me a sympathetic look. I didn’t need her pity. I needed to make money. Because it was Saturday and on Saturday the bills were due. 

We started to head out of the room when a phone started ringing. I looked behind me but a few of the girls were looking to my phone and then me. Fuck, Mom is probably trying to check in. I should let her know I’m okay. I’d just be lying to her again. 

“Sorry it’s my mom. It’ll just be a second.”

The blonde tightened her lips in a line as if my request was personally affecting her. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and turn to my phone. On the screen I expected to see my moms little emoji, but it wasn’t her. It was my talent manager Audrey. Maybe she was letting me know about another role gone from me. Bitterness swept through me like a wave and I thought about rejecting the call. However, the angels voice, who sounded so much like mom, asked me to answer. What if this was the one. It kept ringing, and I couldn’t make up my mind on time. Soon the ringing ended. 

“Solana, come on. Dannys gonna freak.” The girl said. 

Angel and devil.

I hurriedly looked throughout the room until I recognized one of the girls.

“Nicki! Can you switch slots with me?”

“Um. Yeah? Everything okay?” She asked.

“I don’t know yet. Ask me when you get off stage.” 

There was only one other girl in the room after they left. So with a deep breath I clicked Audreys number. The phone rang and rang. Then when I thought it would click off she answered. Five seconds passed before she spoke.

“Solana Pavlov, oh the woman you are. I’m freaking out for you. God I have such great news. You know that stoic character we sent in for like five months ago?”

“I thought you said they went with other actors?”

“Well, I just didn’t hear from them. I mean after three months would you keep waiting?”

“No.”

“No. Exactly. Anyways they got back to me. They want you Solana! They really, really, really. Want you!”

All of the air in my chest felt like it was punched out of me. No way. Me?

“A—are you positive Audrey? Wasn’t this the international one?” 

“Yup and yup! Don’t hate me for this but I’ve already told them yes.”

Something new inside me sparked. I felt bright. My tears welled again, but finally for a good reason.

“That’s…perfect. Thank you Audrey. This is a lot to take in. I need to go share the news with my mom.”

“Tell Mama Pavlov I say hi. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Theres a lot of information you’ll want. But for now, enjoy your moment. I’ll be in touch—”

“—wait! Audrey I have a huge favor to ask. Can you ask them for an advancement of payment? Just like two hundred dollars?”

She was quiet on the line for a bit and I worried if I had overstepped. “I just sent you five. Go take your mom to a nice dinner on me.” 

“What? No, that's way too generous—” Click. She had hung up on me. A sliver of me wanted to feel uncomfortable with the gesture, but the excitement won over when I heard the ding of a notification. It was Audrey’s venmo coming in. Attached was a little note, ‘I knew you could do it.’ 

I don’t think I could have changed out of my clothes faster. If there was an olympic sport, I surely would have been a medalist. Giddiness tingled over my body, and noises of excitement spilled from me like a child unable to control their emotions. 

It was easy finding an ATM to deposit the cash. It was easying making my way to Mr. Romaros office. And it felt blissful to see his surprised face when I came in with an envelope in my hand. We didn’t exchange many words, he just held a small smile as he watched me count it out to him. 

“You seem happy tonight,” he said.

“I am,” I responded.

Taking the bus at night was better than the day. Less people meant more energy for my mind to wander. My normal grey thoughts were exceptionally vibrant and I thought about the potential future overseas. In this moment, I felt like I was dancing with life once more. 

I started walking towards our building and shifted the weight of my jacket. Doing so unbundled the lingerie and out fell the black lace. When I reached down to pick it up, the garbage bins caught my eye. If I was wrong about this… If it didn't work out… I turned off my thoughts and threw the set into the bin. A token of trust. A new promise for me and my mom. I’ll do it this time. For us.

I didn’t mean to barrel into our apartment like a bullet. I was just excited. Can you blame me? I was nearly leaping up the stairs to the fifth floor. Inside, my mom groggily awoke from her slumber on the couch. I bounced over to her and kneeled by the couch. She had the pair of glasses she found on. I smiled at her. And she knew, like her all knowing eyes always do, that something had changed in me. She placed her hand on my cheek and I placed mine atop hers. 

“Good day?” She asked.

“A perfect day.” I said. 

“I’m glad to hear that Sunshine.”

“Can I sleep out here with you tonight?”

“Of course.”

I went to grab a blanket from her bed. On her nightstand she had a small digital clock. It read 11:57 pm. It was still Saturday. 

I came back to the living room with a smile on my face and a lightness in my heart. My makeshift bed next to mom wasn’t perfect. Hell it was barely comfortable. But seeing her sleeping face, with a ghost of a smile made everything perfect. That night I fell asleep holding my moms hand and I couldn’t wait to tell her about how good Saturday was.

AUTHOR NOTE: (Stay)

Wow! I can’t believe it’s finally here. I’m so happy to introduce you to Solana. I hope you follow us through this story. It’s a long one. (:

We’d love your support on Wattpad, if you could vote and comment on our story. You can find us on Wattpad here.

[tornadoyoungiron]

Traintober | Day 14 - Young Iron

Tornado learns that her Trust is building another steam engine. She becomes upset that they won’t care about her anymore.

~~~

“Hey, have you heard the news, Sir Nigel?” Bittern called to his brother who looked at him wearily.

“If this is another of your confounded tricks with Flying Scotsman-” Sir Nigel grumbled as Tornado pottered around the yard with Matey, the NRM’s lead shunter.

“No, no, no! No trick, I mean, I did hear this from Scottie but that’s beside the point!” Bittern dismissively replied to the other A4 Pacific. 

“And your point is Bittern?” Sir Nigel narrowed his eyes at him.

“Alright, there’s no need to be such a grumpus!” Bittern nattered on but the deepening glare from his brother hastily made him change his tune. “Scotsman said there’s going to be a new Gresley P2 built! You know, a proper one, like the Mikado arrangement, not that Thompson trash!”

Sir Nigel’s eyes widened and he stared at Bittern in disbelief.

“If this is a joke-”

“It’s not a joke!” Bittern appealed to his brother. “I’m being dead serious! Tornado’s Trust are the ones building them so you can ask her!”

The two A4’s turned their attention to Tornado who had frozen in place and was staring at the both of them, a look of utter shock on her face.

“Is this true Tornado?” Sir Nigel questioned her and it took a moment for the young engine to look at the elder LNER leader.

“I- I- I don’t-” She stammered. 

“Oh, come on! You have to know! They’re your trust!” Bittern beseeched her but Tornado just stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“You’re tormenting the poor girl, leave her be,” Sir Nigel condemned Bittern and the garter blue A4 just humphed and wheeshed steam in response. 

“Fine! Don’t believe me then! But don’t come running back to me when I’m proven right!” The blue engine shouted at his brother and the still lost-looking Tornado as he raced away, deeply upset.

Sir Nigel gave a thoughtful hum and watched his brother sprinting away before turning his attention back to Tornado.

“Ignore my brother, young Tornado,” he advised her. “He often lacks tact and common sense.”

“Okay,” was all Tornado responded with as she returned to helping Matey though, with a little less enthusiasm than before.

~~~

“Looks like you weren’t good enough,” a snide voice called out to Tornado as she prepared to return home for the night. Tornado said nothing as the churlish figure of Clun Castle sidled up next to her, a putrid sneer marred across her face.

“Shut up, leave me alone,” Tornado wearily murmured back at her. She was in no mood to entertain the nasty engine.

“See, this rude and horrible attitude is why your Trust is making another engine,” Clun Castle ignored Tornado’s distressed expression and delighted in making the young engine miserable. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent you off to the scrapyard and had you replaced with this new engine!”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Tornado suddenly bellowed at Clun Castle but the Great Western just laughed at her. “LEAVE ME ALONE YOU MONSTER!”

Her bellows caught the attention of a 9F nearby who began advancing towards them. 

Clun Castle immediately cleared her throat and took her leave rather quickly as the 9F numbered 92134 approached them. 

“Everything alright here?” The 9F asked Tornado, her voice kind and full of worry. “Was that Great Western causing you trouble?”

Tornado just sniffed and looked at her buffers. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Tornado mumbled and she set off, refusing to look back at the 9F, desperate to head home.

The 9F watched her go, a downhearted look on her face.

~~~

Tornado trundled into her Darlington home with a dejected look on her face and a worried Matthias. He’d seen everything and considered it would be best for her to head home instead of staying at the NRM. Not only that, it wouldn’t hurt for her to go through a deep maintenance cycle.

“Tornado!” A voice called to them as they pulled into the shed. Tornado ignored the voice and rolled into place over the pit, no longer wanting or responding to the ramble of engineers or volunteers loitering around the shed.

“Tornado are you happy to get a new shed mate?” One of the younger volunteers asked her and Tornado seemed to explode in anger and frustration.

“Shut up!” She shrieked. “Shut up about this new engine! I don’t want to hear it!”

The volunteer recoiled, shocked at the reaction.

“Tornado, what’s the meaning of this?” Iain the lead engineer approached her as the people stopped what they were doing to stare.

“I’m doing the best I can! Why are you building a new engine?” Tornado protested. “Don’t send me to the scrapyards! I promise I’ll be good, I’ll be better!”

Iain now looked alarmed at Tornado.

“Tornado we are not going to send you to the scrapyards, why on earth would you think that!” He was aghast at her suggestions.

“Because you’re building a new engine to replace me,” Tornado wailed. “Why else would you be building a new engine? My firebox is too small, I don’t steam correctly, I keep having problems!”

“Tornado, Tornado stop,” Iain quicked stepped in to stop Tornado from riling herself up. “We are not going to send you to the scrapyard, we are not going replace you!”

Tornado sniffed, upset and stared down at her engineer.

“Then why are you building a new engine!” She shouted angrily. “Am I not good enough?!”

“Tornado you are more than enough,” Iain reassured the agitated engine. “In fact, you are perfect. And the fact that you are perfect gives us confidence we can build another engine. We are building a new one because you turned out so well.”

Tornado’s agitation seemed to disappear at his words and she paused to listen to him properly now.

“Re- really? You’re building a new engine because I’m so… good?” She asked confused and Iain nodded to her. 

“Yes! Would you like to see the engine we’re going to build to complement you?” He asked and a look of curiosity appeared over Tornado’s face.

“I- okay,” she sounded a little uncertain.

Iain beckoned to one of the volunteers who quickly raced away to retrieve a book from one of the offices as he made his way to perch himself on Tornado’s buffer beam.

“You’ll always be our number one engine Tornado,” Iain reassured her. “You have a special place in our hearts and in the eyes of the railway world. You’re very a very famous engine, we could never scrap you, so don’t even entertain the idea, alright?”

Tornado stared at him before looking at her buffers, embarrassed now. 

“I’m sorry for making a fuss, I know I tend to do that,” she mumbled and Iain chuckled before giving her smokebox a reassuring pat. 

“You steam engines are fussy things, it’s to be expected,” Iain chortled and Tornado pouted at him. She resented being called fussy.

The volunteer came back, handing a large book to Iain. “Ah now here, I’m not sure how much Flying Scotsman has told you about the P2’s.”

“They worked in Scotland! They were huge and they had big personalities!” Tornado exclaimed excitedly. “They kept calling him a shrimp!”

Iain laughed, “Well, there’s a good reason that they did.”

He opened the book and held it up so she could see it. She gave a dramatic gasp. There was one of Scotsman’s siblings and next to it was an enormous engine dwarfing it.

“THEY’RE HUGE!” She marvelled at the photo of it. She then frowned as she noticed the other photos of the P2 class. “Wait, they’re all different looking. That one looks like Sir Nigel and Bittern.”

“These engines were almost like the prototypes for Bittern’s class. They were experiments by Sir Gresley to find the perfect design, but that doesn’t mean they were faulty or lacking, no, these engines were even more powerful than the 9F’s you’ve seen,” Iain explained and Tornado seemed even more impressed.

“Wow,” she whispered softly in awe. “And you’re building one? Which one?”

“This one right here,” Iain pointed at the photograph of an engine that was impressively long and had a huge cowl over it’s smokebox. The nameplate read: ‘Cock ‘O the North.’

Tornado giggled childishly. “That’s a funny name.”

“Some would say Tornado is a funny name for an engine,” Iain poked back and Tornado pulled a face at him.

“I like my name!” She argued, pulling a disgruntled face. “Does the new engine have a name?”

“Prince of Wales,” Iain confirmed. “And he’ll be your little brother, so you best look after him.”

“Like how Scotsman looks after me!” Tornado exclaimed and Iain nodded to her.

“You can teach him everything you know,” he insinuated and Tornado beamed proudly. 

“I won’t let you down, Mr Iain!” She declared and Iain just smiled at the Peppercorn, adoringly.

“I know you won’t Tornado.”

~~~

A1 Steam’s Tornado Website - You can donate to help get Tornado back on the rails.

A1 Steam’s Prince of Wales Website - You can also donate to help the A1 Trust finish this behemoth of an engine.

[punster-2319]

Ranking the Classic MGM Tom and Jerry Cartoons (Favorite to Least Favorite)

1. Solid Serenade (1946)

2. Trap Happy (1946)

3. Tee for Two (1945)

4. The Cat Concerto (1947)

5. Mouse Trouble (1944)

6. Jerry’s Cousin (1951)

7. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Mouse (1947)

8. Texas Tom (1950)

9. Heavenly Puss (1949)

10. The Zoot Cat (1944)

11. Cat Fishin’ (1947)

12. Flirty Birdy (1945)

13. The Mouse Comes to Dinner (1945)

14. Springtime for Thomas (1946)

15. Baby Puss (1943)

16. Kitty Foiled (1948)

17. Little Quacker (1950)

18. Mouse in Manhattan (1945)

19. Jerry and the Lion (1950)

20. The Million Dollar Cat (1944)

21. The Truce Hurts (1950)

22. Fit to Be Tied (1952)

23. Quiet Please! (1945)

24. Pecos Pest (1955)

25. Puttin’ on the Dog (1944)

26. The Bodyguard (1944)

27. The Dog House (1952)

28. Safety Second (1950)

29. Part Time Pal (1947)

30. Saturday Evening Puss (1950)

31. Down Beat Bear (1956)

32. The Missing Mouse (1953)

33. Little Runaway (1952)

34. Professor Tom (1948)

35. Cue Ball Cat (1950)

36. Jerry’s Diary (1949)

37. Tom and Jerry in the Hollywood Bowl (1950)

38. Jerry and the Goldfish (1951)

39. The Flying Cat (1952)

40. The Duck Doctor (1952)

41. Sufferin’ Cats (1943)

42. Love That Pup (1949)

43. The Yankee Doodle Mouse (1943)

44. The Invisible Mouse (1947)

45. The Little Orphan (1949)

46. Nit-Witty Kitty (1952)

47. Jerry and Jumbo (1953)

48. Timid Tabby (1957)

49. The Bowling Alley-Cat (1942)

50. Puss Gets the Boot (1940)

51. Hatch Up Your Troubles (1949)

52. Sleepy-Time Tom (1951)

53. Fine Feathered Friend (1942)

54. Two Little Indians (1953)

55. Pet Peeve (1954)

56. Muscle Beach Tom (1956)

57. Smarty Cat (1955)

58. Puss n’ Toots (1942)

59. The Night Before Christmas (1941)

60. The Lonesome Mouse (1943)

61. The Milky Waif (1946)

62. Mouse Cleaning (1948)

63. Mouse for Sale (1955)

64. Posse Cat (1954)

65. The Two Mouseketeers (1952)

66. Touché, Pussy Cat! (1954)

67. Tom and Chérie (1955)

68. Tennis Chumps (1949)

69. Salt Water Tabby (1947)

70. A Mouse in the House (1947)

71. Fraidy Cat (1942)

72. The Midnight Snack (1941)

73. Barbecue Brawl (1956)

74. Royal Cat Nap (1958)

75. Hic-cup Pup (1954)

76. Old Rockin’ Chair Tom (1948)

77. Push-Button Kitten (1952)

78. Slicked-up Pup (1951)

79. Puppy Tale (1954)

80. Triplet Trouble (1952)

81. The Cat and the Mermouse (1949)

82. Casanova Cat (1951)

83. The Framed Cat (1951)

84. Cat Napping (1951)

85. Cruise Cat (1952)

86. That’s My Pup! (1954)

87. Dog Trouble (1942)

88. Little School Mouse (1954)

89. Pup on a Picnic (1955)

90. Robin Hoodwinked (1958)

90. The Vanishing Duck (1958)

92. Just Ducky (1953)

93. Downhearted Duckling (1954)

94. Southbound Duckling (1955)

95. That’s My Mommy (1955)

96. Happy Go Ducky (1958)

97. Tot Watchers (1958)

98. Busy Buddies (1956)

99. Tom’s Photo Finish (1957)

100. Polka-Dot Puss (1949)

101. Smitten Kitten (1952)

102. Life with Tom (1953)

103. His Mouse Friday (1951)

104. Mucho Mouse (1957)

105. Blue Cat Blues (1956)

106. Designs for Jerry (1954)

107. Neapolitan Mouse (1954)

108. Mice Follies (1954)

109. Johann Mouse (1953)

110. Baby Butch (1954)

111. The Flying Sorceress (1956)

112. The Egg and Jerry (1956)

113. Tops and Pops (1957)

114. Feedin’ the Kiddie (1957)

There’s all 114 classic MGM Tom and Jerry cartoons ranked (I’m not ranking the later Gene Deitch or Chuck Jones shorts).

WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE CLASSIC TOM AND JERRY CARTOONS?

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Halloween part 12 teaser

Warnings: angst, mention of violence, medication use, brief mention of self harm(not suicidal).

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x you (f)

previous chapters: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - part 10 - part 11.

The Willow Asylum was cold and the lights reflected painfully bright on the blank white walls, making for a downhearted and inhospitable atmosphere.

White. 

White was the colour that surrounded you everywhere. Not only were all the lights and walls white, but so were the floors, ceilings, tables, chairs, doors, couches, desks, bathrooms, beds, cabinets and the window sills were white to, which were barred on the outside with thick white metal. Everything was white. Even the patients were dressed in all white; laceless white shoes with white socks and white pants, white shirts, white sweaters and white underwear too. And all the patients looked an odd shade of white too, regardless of their skin colour, which was what had alarmed you immediately on your first day at the place. Everything was so white that you and your colleagues stood out by wearing a light shade of blue, which was supposed to be a comforting and calming colour but it made you feel like you were a great blue shark amongst blood and colour deprived corpses that were the patients. But the patients weren't dead, they were still very much alive in one way or another.

You were already an experienced doctor when you were transferred to the Willow Asylum, which most people called the Willow House to make it sound less harsh, but what happened behind the locked doors of the building was harsh to say the least. You had never before seen patients in the state which they were in at the Willow House, with their eyes all empty and walking around as if they had no soul anymore. You had so many questions and concerns, but seeing the stern faces of your colleagues already gave you your answer: you had to suck it up if you wanted to help these people who so desperately needed help, but you wondered if they were getting the right kind of help, if any.

It was your first day at the Willow House when you met Sihtric a few hours into your shift. And it was Sihtric who confirmed your suspicion about the quality of treatment everyone received; the nurses weren't helping the patients at the Willow House, they were slowly driving them insane and eventually even killing some.

It was Halloween and the patients were restless, constantly roaming the hallways and screaming at the top of their lungs, seemingly for no reason at all. But you believed they probably felt the ghostly past of the building they were kept in, as the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest. Every patient got drugged up that afternoon as they were all going out of their minds, banging their fists on the tables and against the windows, when they weren't rattling the doorknobs in the hopes to find a way out. The alarm howled through the cold and big corridors of the asylum every hour, to which a handful of guards responded by brutally forcing obviously terrified patients into their rooms and locking them up. Their frightened screams sounded muffled through the walls all day, as if something was locked inside with them in their room, but no one ever saw anything out of the ordinary.

Sihtric was one of the few who was calm as he sat in one of the white chairs in the communal living room, staring out the window, next to the old and no longer in use fireplace. You had looked into the records of each patient before your first shift, and Sihtric was the one that stuck with you the most. He had been committed by his now ex-wife a few years ago, and his past as a black ops soldier seemed to be the reason he was brought in. His ex-wife claimed he heard and saw things, which doctors said was part of the PTSD symptoms which he was treated for now. You read that Sihtric was usually calm but also notorious for sudden outbursts of violence and erratic behaviour.

Patient has a history with violence, against himself and others. Patient is known to inflict pain to himself i.e. cutting himself to draw blood which he has used to draw unholy symbols on his floor, window and walls. Patient is under no circumstance allowed to keep sharp objects. Patient shows no sign of suicidal tendencies; self-harm is only done for the sake of a religious and ritualistic form. Patient will not elaborate when asked.

Violent fits happen at random, medication has been increased and proven successful: patient is evidently calmer when medicated.

You remembered his file as you looked at him while you sat in your office, almost spying on him as you lurked carefully between the closed blinds, and he didn't seem violent at all. You felt yourself smirk when you thought how he looked even more handsome in real life than on his photo that was attached to his files. But you quickly shook off that thought when you remembered he was a patient, your patient, and that unfortunately something was off about him or else he wouldn't be there.

You again glanced at the list of medication he was on, and it still shocked you the same as it had done when you had first seen it. The list was huge and it struck you as odd that Sihtric was capable of even walking around on his own by the amount of sedatives in his blood at all times. But that was also what made you so curious. That and his hauntingly beautiful face.

And when the alarm blared through the asylum again and guards ran past your window, followed by some nurses, you took the opportunity to approach Sihtric as the communal room was almost empty, apart from a few other patients who sat at their tables and either slept or sat there drooling and staring at nothing in particular. You calmly made your way over and sat at a safe distance as you shared the table with the handsome man, whose tired and empty eyes were fixated on the heavy rain outside as it smashed with thick drops against the window. Sihtric didn't even look up at you at first, as if you weren't there, or more so; as if he wasn't really there. You struggled to find a way to start a conversation, but the topic was quickly found once you saw the DVD case he had in his lap.

'Halloween,' you said quietly with a faint smile, 'a classic.'

Sihtric suddenly blinked and slowly turned his face to meet your eyes, and he gave you an empty yet puzzled look.

'The DVD,' you explained, 'is it your pick for movie night today?'

Sihtric nodded slowly.

'I hope they pick your choice,' you smiled, 'it's my favourite.'

You had found out earlier that day that on Halloween each patient got to pick a movie for the movie night, and eventually one would be picked by the nurses to be shown on the tv in the communal room.

'They won't pick it,' Sihtric half whispered and looked out the window again.

'Why not?'

Sihtric scoffed lightly at your question, then looked at you again with his soulless mismatched eyes.

'Because they never show a movie on movie night.'

'I don't understand,' you said, confused.

'They lie,' Sihtric whispered and leaned in closer.

'Who?'

'Everyone.'

'Do you mean the nurses don't pick a movie from the ones you all picked?'

Sihtric shook his head.

'They don't pick any movie,' he said sadly as he looked down at the case in his lap, 'they never show a movie. They lie. They always lie,' Sihtric suddenly leaned in closer, 'do you want to know a secret?'

Without thinking you leaned in too, as he spoke softer with each word that followed. And after you had looked around to make sure no one was there, you nodded cautiously at this question.

'Yes,' you whispered.

'I shouldn't be here,' he said with a sudden twisted grin on his face.

His words made your mouth dry and your hair stand on end, but before you could speak you were rudely interrupted by the alarm again as it echoed through the building and the heavy boots of guards stomped down the hall again. You waited until everything became quiet again, but once you returned your attention back to Sihtric, he seemed to have lost interest in the conversation and was staring outside again. You sighed softly, having to accept he was just as lost as everyone else in there, and you moved to get up. But Sihtric then suddenly grabbed your wrist and looked up at you.

'I've been waiting for you,' he said, his eyes suddenly vivid and his voice confident and alive, as if he had gotten clear headed out of nowhere.

'What?' you asked as you felt a cold shiver down your spine at his warm touch.

'You found me this time, little bat,' Sihtric smiled as if in love, 'I've been waiting for you all my life,' he breathed.

You stared at him, speechless, his grip on your wrist firm yet not painful or malicious. And you watched his smile fade as the alarm sounded again, and this time the heavy boots stormed your way. Sihtric was quick to grab your face and he kissed your lips almost bruisingly before you were shoved aside by one of the guards. And within a split second you witnessed how Sihtric was pushed harshly down on the table, causing his nose to bleed while they dragged him away from you before they locked and chained him up in an isolation cell for the night.

And Sihtric was right, you found out that evening, for the nurses never showed a movie for the patients. In fact, they were all locked in their rooms after dinner.

full chapter coming soon...

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