#Only to find out everyone thinks he's dead

[fangsandfeels]

It's not that Rook as a project manager/leader/decision-maker doesn't work or has no value. However, what bothers me is that Rook feels like they literally exist to fulfill that role, but they have no part in the story.

For instance, in DAO Warden ends up with the mission to save Ferelden because there is nobody else. The King is dead, their Grey Warden mentor is dead, everyone is too busy playing politics - and the Warden just happened to survive. However, at the same time, they also have stakes of their own. They all have their reasons to go on, to do all that:

Cousland: "I will find and kill Howe for what he did to my family"

Aeducan: "I will take back my throne from my traitor brother"

Tabris: "If darkspawn reach Denerim, nobody will bother to protect the Alienage, so I must do my best for Shianni and all the people there" // "I will kill every fucking shem in my way and I'm not letting the Blight take it from me"

Mahariel: "I lost my best friend to the taint and I almost died myself. I must make sure my people are safe from it, whatever it takes."

Amell: "I narrowly avoided the Rite of Tranquility in my own Circle and there is no place for me anywhere else, so I better get used to this Grey Warden thing" // "Fuck yeah! I got my freedom and no templars, no darkspawn will ruin it for me!"

Surana: "I narrowly avoided the Rite of Tranquility in my own Circle and there is no place for me anywhere else because I am a mage and as an elf I have slim chances of not being harassed in the first place. I really need to make this Grey Warden thing work."

Brosca: "I didn't survive this long just to die here. I will keep climbing out of this pit and nobody will ever look down on me"

These reasons make the Warden more than just a placeholder for team leader - they make the Warden a person with their unique struggles, motivations, and experiences.

In DAI, the Inquisitor is less detailed, but they are put in a unique situation - they have The Thing in their hand and now people think they're the Messiah. Also, the local Pope is dead, there is a gaping hole in the sky and people are losing their shit, and The Thing seems to be the key to dealing with all of that, so the Inquisitor literally has to be the leader.

(Let's ignore the fact that the Inquisitor is also appointed the leader because they can be conveniently turned into a scapegoat for the enraged mob should something go wrong.)

The Inquisitor can be a fierce believer committed to the cause. They can be a reluctant leader and a loud non-believer, but their motivation is clear: I'm dealing with this shit not just because it threatens the world, but also it affected me personally.

Rook, however? They lack that nuance and range. They join Varric behind the scenes for no other reason than "cuz saving our planet is a thing to do!". Moreover, somehow they instantly buy Varric's story that must sound like some tinfoil hat level insanity:

"Alright, so elven gods are real and one of them is hanging around right now and he wants to explode the Veil and drown the word in demons. Wanna join me and stop him? It'll be fun. Yeah, he is literally a god who can kill you in your sleep and you're the only person I've recruited so far, I think our odds are good."

After all, in DAO the darkspawn threat is obvious and very hard to ignore: Mahariel gets the firsthand experience, Aeducan and Brosca' city is literally under constant threat, and the rest of Wardens get a glimpse of what the darkspawn will do to Ferelden in Orzammar. There is no denying the necessity to fight them. But Solas, though? He is subtle. Racism and prejudice against elves play in his favor. The only people who understand the threat are the ones he revealed his secret to.

So, why does Rook join Varric without a shadow of doubt, especially if they aren't even exiled from their faction (more like asked to take a break)? They obviously has a place to return to and things to do, why get yourself involved?

In other words, Rook lacks personal reasons and deeper motivation to go after Solas, which makes them look inauthentic and awkward (even though they're supposed to be capable and skilled) because there is no essence to their interactions.

Moreover, there could be reasons.

Maybe, they lost someone due to Solas' machinations and actions, they realized that there was something mysterious about the tragedy and felt like they were going insane until they crossed paths with Varric who gave them answers.

Maybe they got framed by Solas' spies and lost their place in their faction, their political status, everything - so they literally have no other option but to start beef with a literal god.

Maybe they were one of the slaves freed by Solas' agents but realized that he expects them to die for him now, which rubbed them the wrong way.

It is a compelling reason: to find the mysterious and supposedly powerful being, to be able to thwart its scheming, to ask "Remember me?" right in their face or to demand answers. It's a powerful motivation to keep going, to gather allies and work with people. It would have even made Solas getting stuck in Rook's head more impactful and allowed for more personal and sharper conversations.

In fact, now I think that if Rook got absolutely wrecked due to Solas actions (as a collateral damage) and became a down on their luck depressed mess or a restless seeker of answers putting themselves into dangerous situations, it would have made for a much more protagonist.

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[stealingpotatoes]

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

[gotham-daydreams]

Writhing

Day 4 {Challenge Masterlist}

A day away. The end is near, but they get closer. Too close.

[Yandere Batfam x Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only mentioned in dialog), cult, occult like activities, rituals, implied human sacrifice (in dialog), sort of implied gore?, body horror, violence, blood (minor), bodily fluids (minor), flesh, general mild gore, gross description (?).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Oops! A little late on this one, my bad! Body horror elements come in at the end of the chapter, when Selina says something to Bruce. It's over when Jason says "Thank god, he finally shut up-"

If there is such things as 'partial'/'soft' dead dove, that's how I would describe the end of this day.

-------------------------------

The day is hotter than it’s ever been for fall in Gotham, and nearly everyone could feel it. Yet, strangely enough, a noticeable amount of people seem perfectly fine with it – even if some are practically sweating in their clothes, they still go about their lives almost scarily unbothered.

Most would think that Duke would be complaining, or at the very least breaking a sweat with how long he’s been in his suit, but strangely enough, he feels comfortable like this. Almost content, but he couldn’t be – not while being so far away from you. A window was the only thing truly separating you from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it and slip in. Almost like something deep inside of him was telling him you wouldn’t like it if he did, and Duke couldn’t understand why. You’ve been so nice to him up until this point, so welcoming – so you wouldn’t mind if he popped in extra early, would you? Sure you wouldn’t, Duke couldn’t imagine if you did, but he’s sure you’d understand anyway. If only he could explain it to you. Explain how he’s been feeling and that he had to be inside. Then you’d understand, forgive him, and everything would be okay.

Yet, something was still keeping him out, and it was honestly getting on his last nerve.

How Duke managed to slip out of the Batcave didn’t matter – not like he remembered, anyway. What mattered was figuring what was keeping him out so he could get in-

The young vigilante watches as you slowly, almost painstakingly begin to rise from your bed to sit up. For a moment, he holds his breath, hoping and nearly pleading with all his heart that you’re awake – only to see that your eyes are still closed, and it’s still hours away from when you’d usually be up. The only difference being is that your body moved in accordance to the sun, and you rose as it did. Almost as if you two were in sync somehow, and Duke couldn’t help but find that endlessly interesting instead of strange.

Even so, he had hoped you would have actually been awake – but he could be polite, so he waited. It wasn’t very comfortable being perched on the fire escape like this, but for something like this? Duke didn’t mind, especially not when he got to spend so much time with you. When it was just the two of you, alone, together.

Duke couldn’t even feel himself sweating in his suit, but even if he could – he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not with you in his sights.

Time passed by like sand slipping through his hands, with only the smallest bits remaining under Duke’s nails and in the lines of his palm. Since he could feel it pass, albeit faintly, and could acknowledge its passing as well, but the actual length was lost on him – as if only minutes or seconds had flown by in the place of the few hours that escaped his memory.

Not that it mattered, as once Duke saw you begin to stir and wake up, he couldn’t help but feel all giddy as he practically jumped to your window sill, and tapped on the window despite the nagging feeling that tried to stop him. He watches as you rub your eyes before glancing over to him.

Another feeling washes over Duke, one of denial – and he finds himself panicking. You had to let him in. You would, right? You wouldn’t turn him away, would you? You couldn’t leave him out in the heat like this, you had come here for you. You can’t turn him away. No. No Duke can’t accept this – who are you? Where did you go? Did someone replace you? Was this a fake? Just what was going on-

The young vigilante’s thoughts are cut off as you open the window. “What’re you doing here, kid? I don’t remember making a call… unless there’s some trouble nearby?” Duke almost forgot he was in the suit, and he almost wanted to rip it off now, but he managed to keep it on… even if he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe despite how his own cowl was designed. Thank god, you were fine. Normal.

“I was just on patrol and, uh, decided to swing by? See how things are going, especially with all the activity around in the city as of late–” Duke is quick to reply, clearing his throat before admitting. “And I just wanted to see how you’re doing, y’know? Can’t imagine that things have been exactly easy these past few nights.”

You raise a brow, but just sigh and shake your head at his words. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but I got to get on with my morning, Signal.”

“I- I know! I just wanted to… do a search.”

“A… search?”

“Yeah, like- do you have any plants or anything around here?”

“Well, yes-”

“Perfect! Gotta check them and make sure they’re all good and healthy. It shouldn’t take long, and I won’t get in the way of anything, I promise!”

You can only raise a brow, but eventually relent and give a tired but amused, “Fine, do what you have to, then.”

So, you go on with your morning. Just getting ready, and keeping an eye on Duke – especially as he tries to make conversation. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but considering where you’re supposed to be standing, it is odd. Though, it only made you feel better as you decided to entertain him a little. Answering his questions, holding the position you’ve managed to maintain for the past few days, and keeping up appearances. It was easier during the day for countless reasons, a good night’s rest being one of them. Staying up was really taking a toll, and you needed your energy for what’s to come.

Nevertheless, it quickly comes to a point where Duke is obviously trying to stay, and you can’t figure out why. You feel like you’ve dropped enough hints at this rate, and so you try to confront him about it gently… only for him to stumble over his words and struggle to speak for whatever reason. It’s honestly a little frustrating, but you can work with this. You’ve dealt with worse than a clingy kid in a costume.

So, putting on a more natural smile as you remember to compose yourself, you make the same offer that’s always worked for you time and time again.

“Say, why don’t we have a bit of breakfast?”

— — — – — – — — — — — —

Barbara was beginning to regret taking Dick’s advice on getting some air, especially now that she was a few ways away from the only useful computer they could use at the moment. She appreciated the effort, but given the countdown and the list of questions they still have to answer – well, they didn’t exactly have a lot of time for a break.

Still, it was nice getting out of the clock tower for a bit. That much Barbara could agree with, even if it was strangely hot for fall… it couldn’t be the work of another villain, could it? They had their hands full enough as it is, and this cult wasn’t helping with that – not to mention the fact they didn’t know if it was just that.

“Ugh, why’s it so warm? I don’t remember fall being this hot.. did the news even mention something like this?”

Dick hums for a moment, and gives a shrug as they continue down the street, “Hm, I don’t think so! Just said something about today being nice?” He snickers slightly, “A little ironic, huh? It’s almost like they’re trying to downplay it! But who knows? Maybe they don’t even notice!”

Barbara can only huff in response, “How can they not? It’s almost like spring out here, or even summer, honestly-”

[“Oracle, focus.” Bruce’s voice so rudely pierces through the moment.]

“I would be if someone hadn’t taken me out.”

“Hey! It’s not a crime to get some fresh air every once in a while! Especially when on a tough, grueling case like this… you know that if we keep going at it with no breaks, we’ll all drop before that countdown even finishes.” Dick tries to defend himself, and Bruce at least acknowledges his point by staying silent – the only sign of him still being on the line being a gruff exhale he lets out.

Barbara just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, not bothering with a response as she waves off Dick’s words and usual antics. Though, it was a nice change of pace compared to how the last few nights have been – even if they somehow managed to avoid any more deaths last night. Tragedy was to be expected in their line of work, and Gotham’s reputation only made that more apparent, but this was… something else. It didn’t feel like they were any closer to figuring out the answers to questions they had even at the start of all this, or only had half of a possible answer. Like how they knew the other groups Clark was able to track are heading towards major cities, but they still didn’t know why aside from the Red Dawn you had mentioned.

At this point, it almost felt like a goose chase! And if they didn’t get anything concrete fast, who knows what could happen-?

“... Hey, what’s with all the people in front of that book store?” Barbara points out as she taps Dick’s shoulder, grabbing the officer’s attention.

Humming, he looks over to where Barbara was gesturing towards, and shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a sale or something? Some famous person released a new volume?” The very idea nearly makes her laugh, and as much as Barbara wants to – she’s getting a weird feeling about it. Like something important was going on over there, and that she had to check it out now.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to check it out, right?” She suggests, only for Dick to remain where he was, which only now she realizes that they’ve stopped moving all together. Huh, when did that happen?

Nevertheless, Dick gives the shop a once over, his eyes narrowing slightly at the crowd that’s formed in front of it, and is continuing to grow as the seconds pass. Some still walk past, and seem to mind their own business – but for some reason, others seem drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and there could be only one explanation for it.

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine right here.” He says, sounding almost a little too sure of himself.

Barbara raises a brow and looks over to Dick, curious but also a bit annoyed for reasons even she can’t place. “Why do you think that-?”

Before she can even finish, you come strolling out from the alley just a few inches ahead of them, and Barbara blinks in slight surprise. What were you doing awake-?

“Hey, [Last Name]!” Dick greets without missing a beat, an odd sort of smile making its way across his face. “Where were you last night?”

You look over to him, blinking as well before straightening yourself out. “Oh! Officer Grayson, what a surprise… and Ms. Gordon? What are you both doing out?”

Barbara’s brows furrow, but before she could speak up, Dick spoke up again. “I asked you first, [Last Name]. Where have you been? I can’t imagine you’d take the night off in the middle of a serious situation.”

“I’m… sorry, but something had come up- and I apologize, but I don’t remember anyone mentioning you looking for me?”

“So you were on duty last night-?”

Barbara nudges Dick’s arm, “I’m sorry for my friend here, you’re one of the officers that came in from Metropolis, right?" She interrupts, surprising you a little more. Though, you take the opportunity and give a nod, offering a hand - one that Dick eyes before looking back at you.

Not once does he even attempt to glance at his supposed ally.

"Yes! Officer [Last Name] at your service, ma'am. It's been an honor working with your father."

Barbara nods, taking your hand... which gives her an oddly tingly feeling. One that makes the hairs on her arm stand, but she hardly notices. "Really? Well, I wouldn't get too used to that - wouldn't want to stay in Gotham for longer then you'd have to, right?" She laughs lightly, "I hope the city hasn't been too much of a handful, Officer."

"Oh, there's no need for that, Gordon! Everything's gone... well, as good as it can. We're doing all we can to resolve things as quickly as possible- I assure you." You try to reassure, and while Barbara appreciates the effort - she was still getting the funniest feeling that you were down playing the situation too much. To say you were calm felt like an understatement, you're more laid-back then anything, and for a case like this? That didn't feel like a good thing.

Still, she plays along as well. "Is that so? Then is there anything you know about the case?"

"Well, I don't think we know more then the commissioner's friend per say, but the detective's coming in later and-"

"Wait, the detective-?"

It's only then that you notice something, and already try to take your leave.

"I really wish we had more time to discuss! But I must be going now, please forgive me, Gordon- ah, and of course you, Grayson."

"[Last Name]-!"

Dick's plea is swallowed by the sizable crowd that passes them, and almost seems to go in the direction you were headed in. Yet, when trying to catch a glimpse of you - you're nowhere to be found.

Folding his hands into fists, Dick's nails dig into his palms - something he doesn't even seem to notice or feel. "Damn it." He curses under his breath. So much for that, now he'll have to-

"What was that about?" Barbara can't help but ask out loud, looking at the crowd that was already disappearing before glancing up at Dick. The expression he wore making her worried, and she reached out a hand. "Hey, you okay?"

He shakes it off, and just gives a nod, smile strained. "Just peachy, Babs."

Again, before Barbara could another word out - her phone buzzes, and it's only then that she realizes her commlink was disconnected for... whatever reason? Nevertheless, she picks it up, and tries to gesture to Dick that they should go, which... takes a while. Almost too long, considering how they've got less then twenty-four hours left on that countdown.

Selina's on the line, and she and Barbara try to figure out what they can - and Barbara can't exactly place it, but it feels like only her and Selina are even somewhat level headed. It makes no sense, and she doesn't have time to dwell on it, so Barbara just pushes it to the side for now.

Somehow, they're still having trouble getting the Batcomputer up and running, so Tim and the samples are going to be at the clock tower for the time being so they can continue to work despite the 'hiccup'. Until nightfall comes, Bruce is looking into what he can while trying to get the Batcomputer even semi-functional, and is talking with everyone he can, sharing all the information they have at the moment - trying to see if anyone else knows something they don't.

Meanwhile the other's seem to be doing... something. What exactly? No one's totally sure, but considering the time they've got left? Well, they can only assume it's something useful.

Which... made Barbara remember something just as the call ended. Sighing, she just sits back as her wheelchair continues down the sidewalk. "Where even is Duke, anyway? I can't believe he managed to slip past everyone before his patrol... and before we could come up with a plan too." She can't help but grumble, but really only hoped the kid was okay.

Dick, who had been quiet even since they turned back around - let his silence linger for a moment longer, as if thinking before responding. "Something tells me he's on patrol."

Barbara glances at Dick once more, "Oh yeah? And how can you figure that out when he left without his phone and commlink somehow?" 

Dick only gives a smile, one that Barbara had never seen before that gives her... mixed emotions at best. His eyes closed, and though the rays of sun only made him look better, Barbara couldn't deny the way his heart paused at the sight. What kind of smile even is that-?

"I've just got a really good feeling. So let's go back to the tower, m'kay?"

For once, the chirp in Dick's tone did little to ease Barbara's sudden feeling of dread. One that all too quickly turned into something similar to comfort, and she couldn't even fathom why.

— — — — — — — — — —

Before the moon even has the chance to fully rise, a certain mishmash family of vigilantes is still hard at work. Whatever a few of the others were working on in the batcave, Duke joined them the moment he got home - but after his suit was put aside, and practically put on quarantine with how much of the red stuff it had on it. It was like sand and had gotten into every small crevasse it could - and not just in the suit.

When asked about it, Duke just didn't know. Claiming he didn't remember even losing the suit, but knew he had it on this morning because - well, why wouldn't he? The questioning seemed to confuse him as much as everyone else, and Dick eventually put a stop to it... strangely enough.

Nevertheless, Tim was able to find a bit more information, and when asked he simply said, "Well, I don't think it'll help us right now but... these guys- the group, at least- has been around for a while now. Not like Ancient Egyptians or anything, but they've definitely been around longer than just a few months. It's hard to pinpoint when they were exactly formed or founded, but I'll give it a few years. Maybe even decades."

Chipping in, Barbara adds, "They've got their hands in just about anything you can imagine. It's hard to tie them to politics, but they've got banks, industries, and so on that have supported various churches that are around some of the areas Clark marked before... well, the black out last night. Thank god a backup was sent to the Clock Tower's database."

Tim hums in agreement, "Exactly. And, to add on to that- but even some businesses have given to a few of these churches or groups, but most seem to have their own way of spreading... whatever this is. Though, if only certain banks from these companies support the 'cause', or the company itself supports it is harder to figure out."

"Again, not super helpful, but definitely gives a better idea of who these guys are. Wouldn't be surprised if for most, this is a legitimate religion disguised as another."

Well, Tim was right - it didn't help them immediately, but it gave a bit of insight. These guys have been around for a while, but now the question is why they're popping up now, and if it's because of this 'Red Dawn', then they absolutely have to find out what that means before time is up. However, amongst the investigation, another question eventually pops up, and one that almost feels foolish to skip over.

Where are the bodies from the people who were involved with this cult, but ended up killing themselves when caught-?

Then, Bruce's phone rings just as he's about to contact Gordon. It's not a number he recognizes, but something, for some reason not even he can explain, compels him to pick it up.

Before Bruce himself can even try to resist, the button is already pressed.

[The person on the other end clears their throat before speaking. “Hello? This is Detective Greenwood, and to my understanding, this is Batman’s number?”]

Of course, naturally, Bruce doesn’t say anything. More or less just… confused. Was this even real? How could anyone expect him to believe that the detective that’s been absent for nearly four days, maybe even longer, is only now trying to show up? Talk about convenience. Not to mention priorities and dedication.

[The man on the other end sighs. “Well, if this is the right number or not, I’ll find out soon enough. I’ve heard you're not exactly a patient man, so I’ll keep this short- just for you. Meet me at the diner on fifth. It’s getting late, I know. Place is about to close, but I’ll be here until it does. If it’s closed when you decide to come by? I’ll be at the station, cleaning up the mess.” A beat of silence passes, and a small clinking sound could be heard before he adds, “I’m sure you’re aware we don’t have much time, but hey. The choice is yours.”]

With that, the call ends, and Bruce is momentarily left in silence. Everyone else is doing their own thing and trying to figure out a plan of action they all agree upon but this… this could change things – but that all depends on what this detective knows. The timing itself is a little more than suspicious, and while you had apparently mentioned the detective’s arrival earlier, being gone for so long, and during a time like this no less… almost nothing could make Bruce any less trusting of this. While he trusted your credibility somewhat – and that’s mostly due to Clark being able to back up the information you’ve been able to provide thus far – there’s no telling if this detective had any new information they haven’t figured out already.

… Yet with the time they have, and their lack of knowledge of what it even means, they didn’t exactly have the time to be nitpicky – and though it was highly unlikely, having someone explain or give a clue as to what this ‘Red Dawn’ even is would also be useful.

A rough sigh escapes Bruce, and from that alone, the room goes quiet. Glancing at the timer on the holographic screen of the Batcomputer, he takes a second or so before getting to work. “Dick, you’re coming with me to see this… detective. Selina, go with Damian to see where the bodies are. Jason and Cassandra? …Don’t follow too close behind.” They didn’t exactly have time to argue, and with Duke, Stephanie, and Tim doing something else? This’ll have to do.

Regardless, even if some disagreements and such are made, they all set out, and into the unforgiving city once again.

Knowing the area like the back of your hand certainly had its perks, and finding the diner itself isn’t very hard. Though before they can even think about stepping inside, the sheer emptiness inside the establishment is… not one any of them are familiar with. Not during a time like this, and especially not when there’s a bar inside the establishment. To say they’d stand out would be putting it nicely, but the invitation is already given once the single patron in the diner notices the only two visible figures outside and for them to come in.

Playing along never feels good, but what choice do they have? Besides, as if knowing something, Dick is the one that takes the first step forward. Bruce slides into the booth last.

Conversation sparks up, and it goes about as well as one would expect. The obvious questions are asked, but nothing notable or of any real importance is given. Greenwood only apologizes for his absence, gives little reasoning for it aside from ‘being caught up with something’ – as that’s something noteworthy, and yet not even Bruce has been informed of it. So, things are off to a great start.

Almost seemingly out of habit, Greenwood offers anything he can, only to be declined – something he just shrugs off before taking a stip of his coffee, or what looks to be something like it, as despite the hint of color Bruce swears he can see in the mug, it’s too dark to be much else. Still, all too aware of the time limit they’re working on, Bruce gets straight to the point, and Greenwood follows right along. As if to ease things, he even offers for the pair to call him John. Hm. That’s the first name he’s gotten out of the new batch without looking through records.

Strangely enough, Greenwood takes the time to even reassure them, saying of the waiter – the only employee visible at the moment, is blind. So they won’t have to worry about anyone spreading any rumors about seeing the Big Bat and Nightwing themselves in a diner late at night. When Dick remarks about passerbys, Greenwood only says, “A friend of mine’s got that handled.”

When Bruce understandably asks, “And who is this ‘friend’ of yours.”

Greenwood strangely responds with, “Well, I can’t say much for a list of reasons. But they’ve got a way with people, and even got me your number. That’s all you’ve got to know.” Pushing up the shades he wore all the while. There was no need for him, but the detective never made a move to take them off. Like they were a part of him.

To say the conversation got any more useful from there would be a lie. Greenwood treats it too casually, almost infuriatingly so considering the situation they’re in, but Bruce is able to remain patient despite it all, and Dick looks like he’s biting his tongue. Though, as if catching wind of this, the detective decides to finally move things in a meaningful direction, and offers for them to head to the station – which is conveniently when the diner was about a minute or so away from closing. Which, Bruce takes notice of how Greenwood pays as they move to stand. A Rose Bank card, huh? That’s… new.

Even as both vigilantes readily take the opportunity to meet the detective at the station, and in his office, the quietness at the city gnaws at Bruce.

Of course it bothers him more than he’ll ever let on, but it gets to him all the same. It doesn’t help that Bruce can’t explain it, but the silence itself feels like a taunt of sorts. Like a jab at him specifically – a show of how in all his years of being Batman and trying to look after this city for as long as he has, it’s only now, under mysterious circumstances and in the midst of this disaster of a situation, is the city finally quiet. Even if it’s not in the way Bruce wants it to be. Especially since it’s not the way Bruce would have wanted it to be.

Whoever’s behind this has got a real funny sense of humor, Bruce will give them that.

… Eventually, Greenwood reappears and greets the pair – seemingly unfazed by the fact that they’re already in his office, even if he does make a show of acting a little shocked. Hm.

“I assume you’ve gone through the files I’ve had out already?” It’s a promising start, at least. Especially when compared to being offered coffee just moments before.

Still, Bruce just narrows his eyes, and Dick remains… oddly quiet – something that’s starting to make Bruce question if he made the right choice with bringing him along. Though, there’s no time for regrets now, is there? “Among other things. Your investigation has been…”

“Confusing? Nonsensical? Well… I can’t really blame you there. Everything dealing with them seems odd at best. Alien, perhaps, at worst.”

Bruce raises a brow under the cowl, only for them to furrow a second after. “Alien?”

Greenwood nods, “Put simply, yes. Some of the rituals performed by this group in the past have made little to no sense, and can vary in… well, intensity, so to speak. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened the other day? It’s unfortunate and upsetting, yes- but it does tie into a theme this group seems to exhibit with everything they do.” Opening a file, he lays it out on the table, and the pictures shown are not for the faint of heart. To even say they were grotesque is putting it lightly. “Sacrifice.”

“... The human sacrifice kind?” Dick asks, but for a strange reason, Bruce already gets the feeling his son knows the answer – something that only makes him more unsure of all this, even if, strangely enough, a part of him is starting to almost accept it?

Regardless, Greenwood shakes his head. “Not quite, even if I don’t blame you for jumping to that straight away. Their version of sacrifice seems more… personal, or at least to differ greatly depending on the ritual. It’s hard to say what people are making these sacrifices for- but if you’ve talked with anyone who may be in this group, their reasons tend to differ. Like they were all promised something that caters to them specifically, and thus whatever it is, through these rituals- they are making the necessary sacrifice for it. Such as their eyes, legs, arms, heart, soul-”

“Life.” Bruce finishes, and Greenwood nods. Though, with all of this, only one question seems obvious. “How does the head of the group even know what someone would be willing to make such big sacrifices for? Especially if they’re all personalized.”

“That’s where the weird part comes in, since… well, in all my time as a detective working on this case- I haven’t been able to figure that out. At a certain point, they seem to just know.”

Bruce’s brows further knit together, and his eyes narrow further, “That doesn’t make any sense-”

[“Hey~ Bats? Yeah… you know those bodies you had me and the kid snoop around for-? Which, you owe me big time for this, just fyi.” Selina’s voice rings through the commlink.]

Bruce pauses, left staring at Greenwood while Dick glances at him. The detective raises a brow.

[“Well, we’ve only got a couple of empty caskets from the couple of thugs that were from Gotham, just a bunch of that weird powder you’ve been obsessing over.” There’s a brief pause before she adds, “Kid thinks this is how they make the stuff. If so, with all the followers they have, and assuming they’re just as ‘devoted’ as the one’s we’re looking for? I think we’re way in over our heads here, B.”]

The vigilante didn’t even get a chance to respond, as an odd smirk grew on Greenwood’s face. “That’s the signal, huh? Damn, and here I thought I’d get a few more minutes in. Such a shame, you folk are really on top of things. Reminds me a bit of myself in my earlier days, honestly.” A sickening pop sounds, followed by the sickening echo of cracks and grinding bones as John’s arm extends unnaturally long.

His fingers become as thin as pencil tips, only to get filled as some sort of mass builds from the inside, and grows so large it strains the skin until it pops. Strings of nerves try to reconnect where they shouldn’t, muscle moves to almost reconstruct a stronger, larger arm - with bits of left over skin and flesh moving with it. Nothing ever stops moving, like it can’t ever settle in one spot, and the sheer mass of it all can be seen moving and writhing under John’s skin. Trying to spread itself over parts of his body with its gift.

Finally, he removes his shades, and reveals irises with a pale star pattern that shouldn’t be possible. Something that flickers and moves, with the sclera pulsating with prominent, red veins that only seem to be itching their way closer to the iris with each growth of flesh his body manages to create and sustain. Like a parasite itching to feed, and having been left to starve, it latches onto the side of his face, and practically devours his eye lid - revealing the muscle underneath, and using the mass of the skin to add to the muscular arm – which can hardly hold itself at the end, and comes undone in a pile of fleshy, squelching tendrils that wiggle and inch towards the heroes.

“Well, it’s as they say.” John chuckles, voice already breaking apart, and already beginning to sound wrong in every way. “It’s parents who make the ultimate sacrifice for their children.”

With that, the amalgamation of flesh in human form vaults over the desk, and grins as it launches itself forward, ”IT'S TIME FOR ME TO SEE MY LITTLE GIRL! You surely understand, don’t you, Man of BATS?!” A giggle in too high of a pitch escapes it, and more teeth could be seen peeking out from its gums.

Bruce and Dick are quick to dodge out of the way, and Cassandra is quick to use her cloak to cut all the lights in the station, but the office itself is left in a darkness only the blackness of space could replicate. Jason quickly jumps in, and the four get to work to subdue the creature.

The fight itself is a gross sight for numerous reasons. Acid is spit from the bellows of the organism's stomach, and yet sticks to any surface like a thick layer of pus. The flesh that makes up its arm travels along the body it now puppets, and tries to grab and become a part of all who come into contact with it. Even as shots and countless blows are done to it, all it does is laugh as it continuously launches itself forward haphazardly – as if chasing some sort of high. The fat of the torso is taken for tendrils that shoot out of its back and more flesh to enhance its own combat ability. The muscle and bone of the legs is consumed to enlarge the ribs and spine - making a whole other mouth that’s all bone and made vertically come out of it, and where the organs have moved to? Who’s to say.

Even as it’s thrown through the glass of the office, and the scratches make the thing bleed, it moves to stand and continue the fight – as if it can’t feel anything else, or, rather, it’s so focused on chasing that it’s able to ignore the pain? It’s hard to say, but laughs begin to mix with shrieking screams that ripped its throat and ruptured the stomach.

It was all messy, sloppy, and at some point, most were rushing to find a means to light it on fire – and when the opportunity came in the boiler room, and the most unlikely of them flicked the match as he tried to catch his breath? The nightmare refused to go down without the last say, despite never being given such a luxury.

“IT’S TOO LATE! THE NEW DAWN IS BOUND TO RISE, AND ONCE IT DOES WE WILL ALL BE REWARDED!! THE SUN, DRESSED IN RED SEES ALL, AND NOTHING CAN STOP IT! ALL PREPARATIONS HAVE ALREADY BEEN MADE! THE WATERS ARE BOILING! THOSE NOT AWAKENED WILL SEE! THE CHILDREN WILL SING ONCE AGAIN! AHAHA! THE EARTH COULD STOP ON ITS AXIS AND IT WOULDN’T STOP THE RE-”

Only for its violating, cries of praise to its lord and religion to swiftly be cut off by nothing but a bullet to its melting head that's flesh was tearing away at the skull of the human that once remained underneath.

“Thank god, he finally shut up-” Jason scoffed, only to cough as the smoke began to rise and he rushed out – following the others.

Outside of the station, they all tried to catch their breath. Beaten one way or another, but alive, and untouched. Still human, in spite of everything, and breathing through their own healthy lungs that weren’t nearly pulsating out of their chests.

The quiet streets remain, leaving only them. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother them now. They almost don’t notice it, and despite no words being spoken, they all come to a collective understanding.

When the commlink crackles to life, Bruce hardly reacts, and when he hears his youngest son’s voice – he feels like he knows everything just before he speaks.

[“Father?”]

“Yes… we understand now, too.” So, with this new information, and more being fed to them, they all head back home together. Now knowing what must be done, even without all the pieces put together. Almost as if, in a way, they just know now. Like something is telling them, and the more it gives. The more they need it.

The waters of the Earth begin to boil as it prepares to cry, one last time.

[searchingforserendipity25]

exorcising my list of unwritten conclave concepts from a few weeks ago i haven't written much since, in case the list is all there ends up coming out of it or anyone wants to welcome any of them into a good home:

cardinal lawrence and sister agnes won each other’s respect and trust during ratzinger’s papacy (liberals who leak church scandals to the justice system and the press stick together). everyone lowkey thinks they are having an affair. they are not, but they do keep sneaking into corners to gossip during the conclave. leaning fully into the reading of sister agnes as the late pope’s intelligence expert. incredibly jaded vatican spy. aldo is not jealous. benitez finds lawrence with the yellow canary eating from his hand and going back to his side after short flights, and has a number of franciscan emotions about it. the whole thing would ideally be about their friendship, different views and thoughts on power, what it looks like, what it ought to look like. responsibility, and doubt. also: how horrible it is the only non smokers in an european workplace.

(does this change anything materially? possibly the adeyemi and trembley situation is revealed much sooner with lawrence and sister agnes working together earlier and sharing intel, which in its turn makes him seem more competent and aggressive in taking down competitors, ergo more votes, ergo more influence? maybe bellini supports him more overtly earlier idk.) 

cardinal lawrence is dead. as a matter of fact, cardinal lawrence has been dead for a few days after the pope dies; unlike the pope, he keeps coming back to do his job. the curia covers up his death, because the dean of the college of cardinals is a ghost who apparently hated his job enough that is it his very literal purgatory is both hard to explain, and bad for the press. the fate of his unliving soul is very much at risk when steering the conclave, which is, uh, fun. cardinal tedesco's vape smoke now strongly smells of sulfur to him, which is probably not satanic in origin but then again might be. people keep voting on him and their belief in him corresponds directly to how much he can interact with the world, which is a very straightforward way to test one’s moral limits and otherwise a great torment. the one silver lining is that he can walk through walls and scoop out corrupt dealing easily, and no one can really tell he is dead. well, barely anyone. cardinal benítez and his ability to walk easily between the liminal spaces and certainties of the world is an outlier, and should not be counted.

dean lawrence keeps getting kidnapped, poisoned, blackmailed and otherwise threatened. this is an unfortunate if occasional part of being the vatican’s manager of two increasingly liberal and unorthodox papacies. it is considerably less fine and unfortunately far too normal for innocent xiv, who has a non-zero number of experiences with friends being kidnapped, poisoned, blackmailed and otherwise threatened. 

bellini/lawrence full on established relationship nonsense. as in, they have been together for thirty years and counting. conclave rewrite?? 

innocent xiv’s phone messages get leaked. innocent xiv’s phone messages consist of selfies with turtles sent to various friends and family, a good deal of memes in the santa marta groupchat, and daily jokes, complaints and affectionate messages to dean lawrence. the media has thoughts. aldo bellini, newly in charge of the papal media strategy, also has thoughts. and prayers.

a glimpse at all the people that Did vote for benítez from the start, and how much his work is or is not known outside the hermetic sphere of the vatican. he's kind of famous in religious activist circle probably! he has fans! he has a wide network of people he regularly approaches for information, resources, mutual aid and donations to his clinics and dioceses! he keeps dropping insane facts about horrifying personal experiences with unnerving serenity!

vincent benítez soft doms cardinal lawrence into taking a rest during the conclave. this incidents turns into a habit and gains new dimensions, as per the forthcoming changes in job status

pope john has an ongoing crisis of faith and also a gigantic imposter's syndrome. unrelatedly, pope john would really really really rather vincent benítez did not die in kabul and/or cause a diplomatic disaster. how convenient, then, that he is now a benevolent religious dictator who can arrange (read: wholesale invent) a number of postings and duties only benítez can accomplish. if anyone ask, this is a long-delayed move on part o the church to develop a deeper connection to on-the-ground aid organization. this can’t possibly last forever, though, can it? 

friar lawrence has shed all politics and chosen an abbey who keeps a vow of silence. friar lawrence is genuinely having a lovely time of things in his little abbey post canon. for like, uh, two months? friar lawrence keeps accidentally gaining more and more influence. manager-guy who cannot not manage. six months in he’s in charge of shelters and social associations. one year on, and he’d be archbishop again, if he were not aggressively trying to clamber down the church hierarchical rung. his friend, innocent xiv, who went from being a non-entity to one of the most famous men in the world, is sympathetic but also thinks this is very very funny. epistolary fic?? email epistolary? there is a little cat in a friar's habit and this is the most important part.

possibly related: cardinal lawrence comes back from his enforced sabbatical in a peaceful retreat freckled, healthier and smiling. people have thoughts on this, and emotions also. 

turtle pov of benitez/lawrence. literally: turtle pov. is the turtle an angel?? unclear if the turtle is an angel.

cardinal tedesco must die au.

[not-neverland06]

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

A/N: Oh. My. God. I am so sorry this got delayed so many times. This is such an important chapter to me, it plays such a pivotal role in "Y/N's" development that I kept scrapping it and starting over. I didn't want to give this to you guys until it was perfect, and I think I've gotten about as close as I can. I'm predicting one more story chapter and then possibly one short epilogue.

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

Summary: Arthur's gone and you're own once more. The familiar ache of grief lingers as it always does. But the clouds must always part for light. Through death and grief, you still manage to find yourself.

It always seems to be cold at night, now that Arthur’s no longer there to keep you warm. You curl into yourself, knees tucked to your chest as you smother your face in the thin pillow on your cot. You press the fabric tightly to your mouth, trying to keep the sounds of your crying out of the other’s dreams. 

There should be no surprise that you’re on your own again. Beating a dead horse doesn’t make it move, but somehow, you keep finding yourself tangled in the reins, dragged along by the memory of men who’ve long since let go. You wonder, sometimes, if your life is one bet of many between god and the devil, seeing which one of them can get you to break first.  What you could have done to draw their ire, you don’t know, but you’re not sure how much more pain and loss you can handle. Your lifetime is filled with the empty graves of those you’ll never see again. Now, Arthur’s is just another headstone to add to your endless cemetery.

You worry that you’re too loud on the harder nights. But no one’s ever complained that they hear you crying and you figure they’re all probably too busy mourning in their own way to notice the way you do. 

Abigail is practically an empty shell of herself without John. As much as they fought she doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. Especially knowing he’s in jail, destined for the noose, and there is nothing she can do about it. 

Karen’s not doing much better. With Sean in jail alongside John, she’s fallen to the drink. She’s adopted a fatalist view that, without Dutch, you are all doomed to die at the hands of the Pinkertons. Sometimes, looking at the depressing faces of those around you, you think she might be right.

Stuck out in the middle of nowhere, with only two rotting cabins between what was left of the gang, you are a far cry from the fearsome outlaws you once were. This is no longer the Van der Linde gang. Now, you’re barely any better than a group of desperate wanderers. 

You know sleep won’t come to you tonight, you’ve been tossing and turning for hours. Any longer and you’ll wake everyone else up. Wiping roughly at your eyes, you slip a blanket around your shoulders and head toward the creaking door of the cabin. You try to keep in mind that one wrong step and the groaning wood below you will alert everyone. 

Barefoot, you walk along the muddied planks of the porch and head towards what’s left of tonight’s fire. It’s not ever-burning as it once was. The gang takes care to ensure if anyone were to come looking for you all, you wouldn’t be such easy targets. 

You sink onto the log before the dying fire, with embers glowing faintly in the darkness. Sparks flicker and leap from the blackened wood, a futile effort to reignite the flame. Their struggle is in vain, though, there is no life left to kindle, no warmth to revive. The fire is gone. 

Light footsteps make their way towards you, but you keep your gaze steady on the flickering struggle before you. “I’m gettin’ real tired of this,” Sadie’s disappointed sigh is a familiar one as she comes to stand behind you. 

“Were you in town again?” You ask, ignoring the glare you feel boring into your back. She stares at you for a while longer before letting out a rough sigh and throwing herself down beside you. The log shifts slightly under her weight and you dip towards her. 

“I was,” she grumbles, something white balled up tightly in her fist. You turn towards her finally, eyes narrowed on the paper in her grasp. Her face is drawn tight, jaw set angrily as something vengeful burns within her gaze. 

“What is that?” You ask, tone inquisitive but not truly interested. Her eyes dart towards you before she shakes her head and tosses the paper to the dying fire. What’s left of it, licks eagerly at the paper, trying its damndest to burn brighter.

“Nothin’, don’t worry about it. Why can’t you sleep?” Her switch in conversation is quick and far from subtle. Your head tilts slightly in curiosity, gaze switching between her and the paper that’s slowly curling up at the edges. She’s hiding something, it’s easy enough to tell from the way she refuses to meet your eyes. Besides, she’s snuck into town plenty of times, you’ve never seen her come back this riled up before. 

You jump to your feet and she startles at the quick move. “Don’t,” she snaps, snatching at your wrist as you rush by her and swipe the paper from the fire pit. Sadie gets to her feet, hand held out with an expectant look as she waits for you to give her back to paper. When you don’t comply immediately, she says your name, voice low and tense, a warning. 

Lips curling up slightly in challenge, you leap back as she lunges for you, holding the paper away from her. “What is it?” You tease, curiosity curling over the lingering ache from earlier. 

She snaps your name again and you flinch back in surprise, “I mean it, don’t look at the goddamn paper.” You’d only been joking with her, trying to focus on anything other than Arthur. Now, there’s a familiar churning feeling of dread as you look at your friend. She’s not angry at you, she’s angry at the thin sheet you’re holding. There’s something on here she doesn’t want you to see, not for her own sake, but for yours. 

Your breath quickens, heart dancing dangerously fast against your ribs as you finally look at what’s in your hand. She hisses your name but you stubbornly ignore her, frowning when you realize it’s a torn-out piece of a newspaper. It’s a smaller article from the local St. Denis paper stand, talking about a ferry being lost at sea. 

“Oh, god,” you whisper, hand coming up to cover your mouth as bile rushes up your throat. You bite down on your tongue until the taste of iron fills your mouth, holding back the nausea. “This is him, isn’t it?”

Sadie lets out a rough sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“You were just gonna hide this from me?” You nearly shout, taking one angry step towards her. Her brows turn down in guilt, mouth settling into a thin line as she shakes her head. “No? You weren’t?” You demand, tone rough with grief. “You were just going to wait until I put the pieces together myself?”

“Dammit, woman, you’re barely holding it together,” she barks out, snatching the paper from you once more. She turns her back on you, shredding it into pieces so small you’ll never be able to finish reading it. “I was going to wait until I didn’t think you were on the brink of completely fallin’ apart. Besides, it doesn’t say anything about the people on the ship, we don’t know what happened.”

“We never will!” The words tear out of you, a sharp, bitter exhale. A panicked smile twists your lips as you struggle to keep yourself upright. “Sadie, your husband is dead, you know that. You have your answer. I never will. I will never know what happened to him. And it doesn’t even matter because he left me!” Your voice cracks, a sob slipping free despite your best efforts to swallow it down. “I shouldn’t care about that goddamn bastard, but I do.” You turn away from her, shoulders caving in as you wipe roughly at the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

There’s a beat of silence behind you. You miss the way her face falls, her hardened exterior falling away just for a moment. She looks at you with something like understanding, pity more likely. She steps forward, her arms winding around your shoulders, trying to hold you steady through the pain. You struggle against her hold for a moment but she keeps her grip firm, forcing you to succumb to the small comfort. 

You sink into her embrace, breath hitching as the grief claws its way up your chest, relentless and unyielding. You can’t keep doing this. You aren’t made to endlessly love and lose, to watch pieces of yourself crumble with every goodbye. It feels as though there should be nothing left of you- no bleeding heart, no raw edges. And yet, every time you think you’ve reached your limit, life finds a way to push you further. 

But life, pain, and the ugly company of grief never stops or goes away, despite how much you wish they would. 

A few weeks later

Physical pains and ailments heal. There may be scars left behind, but for the most part, you can be wholly healed. Anguish of the mind and heart is a different beast to conquer altogether. That sort of pain ebbs and flows. It doesn’t slip away neatly. It comes and goes, sneaking upon you when you least wish for it. 

Distractions can dull the edge. The looming danger of death and the law from any of your multitude of enemies helps. But more often than not, the weight remains a leaden burden on your shoulders and a gnawing ache deep in your chest.

For now, the pain has numbed into something dull that makes you clench your teeth and hiss. But if you force yourself, you can find steady ground to stand on. You can keep yourself calm and sated, if you focus yourself on the anger rather than the grief. 

Anger comes easier than healing. It lashes out at the world and balms over the constant pain, if only for a little while. You find yourself getting into more and more fights around camp. The forgiveness of shared grief has its limits and you’ve been testing them for a while. You’re curious how far you can push before you’re forced out by the rest of them. 

Sadie’s efforts of finding a new place for you all to hide don’t go unappreciated. But this cabin feels like a cage, no matter how far you’ve come from the mud and chaos of the old abandoned camp.  The tight space presses against you, the silence weighs heavy against your chest and constricts around you tightly. You hear the faint rustle of the trees in the wind, but it’s a vacuous cavern inside. 

The memories of Shady Belle plague you like a ghost. The brief moments when you could almost forget everything pressing down, but now, that place, too, is just another reminder of what’s been lost. Memories of nights spent with Arthur or sitting outside and listening to Javier play his guitar are tainted with loss and rage. 

Sadie and Charles provide you brief comfort, but it will never be enough to make this place feel like home. You try to shake thoughts of Arthur, what the gang once was, and everything that came before. You’ve been running for so long, from your past and who you once were, but it feels like you’re being dragged right back. 

Unable to handle the suffocating silence any longer, you take Arthur’s bow out from the chest under your cot. You grab a handful of arrows and jump to your feet. Throwing the door of the cabin open, you stride past everyone lingering outside. A few people give you odd looks, but they don’t stop you from leaving. You’ve become a dark cloud around camp, your presence heavy and actions unpredictable. It’s almost a relief for them when you’re gone. 

Lady’s just as restless as you are, except the dumb beast doesn’t understand that neither of them are coming back. Charles doesn’t know what happened to Diablo or the other horses when he fled St. Denis and you’re not interested in looking for them. She’ll just have to live with the pain, same as you. 

“Let’s go,” you mutter, swinging onto her saddle and leading her out of camp. It’s as if a weight slips from your shoulder the further you get from camp. The tight grip constricting around your chest loosens and for the first time in days, you can draw a full breath as the world opens before you. 

The thick groves of trees thin and give way to sprawling plains of grass and wildflowers that stretch endlessly. Steering Lady off the trail, you ride her hard and fast, determined to put as much distance between yourself and those suffocating cabins. Dirt kicks up under her hooves, flying up behind you as she pushes herself to the limit. 

The world around you blurs into streaks of green and gold as memories and grief slip away from you. You lean forward over Lady’s neck, urging her to go faster even as she huffs beneath you. You’re racing the wind, chasing after a dream that’s been lost to you. The air lashes at your face, the sting sharp and cold. Your eyes burn and you tell yourself it’s the wind, even as wet streaks drip down your cheeks.

Bright beams of sunlight streak across the ground, illuminating the path forward. Morning dew glistening under the light, transforms the earth into a field of stars beneath your boots. You draw in a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill your lungs, and tighten your legs around Lady’s sides, signaling her to slow. Her chest heaves beneath you, each breath a puff of steam in the cold air. You can feel her desire to keep running, that shared, desperate need to escape clawing at both of you. 

But she’s exhausted, and no matter how much you’d like to keep going, you can’t push her until she collapses. You’re tethered, whether you like it or not, you’re always going to be pulled back to camp. It’s a cage and a haven. Though you hate the confinement, deep down you know survival outside of it might be beyond you. You don’t trust yourself not to wither in the wilderness alone. 

The sound of water rushing draws your attention and you turn towards a green hill rousing in the distance. Guiding Lady toward it, you crest the incline and slip off her saddle, letting her graze.

Below, a river carves through the land. Its rushing currents are strong enough to carry something away with no hope of return. You step closer to the edge, peering down as the sunlight dances on the water’s surface. It runs like liquid gold, unnaturally beautiful, almost hypnotic, like the siren call of a sailor’s doom. 

A herd of deer drift alongside the river, their presence serene and almost make the idea of simply drifting away, peaceful. Your foot inches closer to the edge, slipping on the wet grass, and for a split second, the earth feels like it’s tilting forward.  

“You don’t usually ride out this far.” 

The voice snaps you back, and you gasp, spinning around. Charles stands behind you, one hand on Taima’s saddle, watching you with a calm but expectant expression. 

“I can’t stand being there,” you say, moving toward Lady. Your hands fumble with her saddlebag, needing something to occupy them. His eyes flick briefly to the river, then back to you, his gaze sharp and knowing. 

“You’re not the only one.” He strolls to the edge and whistles softly.  “Far drop.” 

You keep your hands busy, pretending to rummage through your belongings. “I’m a good swimmer,” you tell him, voice flat. 

“Not that good.” His tone is clipped, a warning wove into his words.  

You let out a sharp breath and finally turn to face him. “What do you want, Charles?”

He shrugs, resting one hand on his belt as his dark eyes assess you. “Thought you might want some company.” He pauses, his voice lowering. “Or, at least someone to keep you from doing something stupid.”

You wince, knowing how it must have looked. You’re hurt and desperate, but you’re no fool. The river might be pretty, but you’re not looking to drown yourself in it. “It wasn’t anything like that,” you insist, and Charles gives you a sharp, assessing look. “Charles,” you snap, exhaling in frustration.  “Honestly. I just,” you take in a slow breath, shaking your head, eyes downcast. “I need a break.”

“Alright,” he says simply. “We’ll take one together.” He walks back to the cliff’s edge, dropping down to sit with his legs dangling over the side. He glances over his shoulder and motions you to join him. 

Your fists clench at your sides as you take slow, reluctant steps toward him. The dew on the grass seeps into your pants as you sit beside him, hands folded in your lap. Out of the corner of his eyes, you catch his profile, calm, steady, and scarred. 

The aftermath of St. Denis lingers on his face. A fresh scar cuts along his jawline, a reminder of how close he came to joining the others who didn’t make it. Yet, with some of them gone, he seems more at ease. Charles never agreed with Dutch’s grandiose visions, and though he and Arthur had a bond, it’s clear the gang’s collapse has freed him from some invisible yoke. He wears his hair in a braid lately, speaking with nearby tribes and helping them when he’s not in camp. 

If it wasn’t for some odd honor-bound obligation he’s got to you and a few others in camp, you don’t doubt that he’d be riding free by now. Still, he stays with you, and selfishly, you’re glad for it. 

A gunshot cracks through the quiet, echoing among the hills. Birds take flight from the treetops as a hunting group crashes through the grove below. They circle around the herd of deer and let their bullets fly wild. Their hounds snap at the flanks of the animals, jaws clamping around the soft throats of the doe. 

Charles scoffs, shaking his head in disgust. “You don’t kill the does,” he mutters angrily. “Just the bucks. These men... they have no respect for the laws of nature.”

You let out a sardonic huff of laughter, gesturing toward the chaos below.  “Welcome to the future of our country,” Your gaze drifts toward the horizon, where smoke from St. Denis factories smudges the sky. Even this far out, civilization stretches its claws, unstoppable. “The west is dying, Charles. The time of outlaws, of freedom, is being shackled and destroyed.”

You turn to face him, meeting the same burning anger in his eyes that’s been smoldering in your own for weeks. It’s the first time you’ve seen that fire in him so clearly- the shared, silent rage, you’ve both been trying to suppress. “Our time is over,” you tell him, voice low with finality. 

His eyes narrow, jaw tight with defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, but then he rises to his feet, his movements purposeful. “Maybe,” he says, his voice steady, “but not today.”

Without another word, he strides toward Taima, tightening the saddle and checking the reins with precision. “What’re you doin?” You call after him, brows knitting together in confusion. 

He gestures toward the hunters below, his tone sharp. “You want to do something stupid. Fine. But take it out on someone who deserves it, not yourself.” 

His words hit like a slap, and before you know it, he’s leading Taima down the hill. 

You linger in the sharp sting of what he said only for a moment. Jumping to your feet, you rush to Lady, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you mount her. With a kick of your heels, you follow Charles down the path toward the hunters, your rage finally finding a target. 

For the first time in a long while, the weight around your chest lightens. You might not be able to fix the world, but you can make sure someone pays for tearing it apart. And as you ride beside Charles, you remember why he’s still here. He’s not just keeping you alive, he’s giving you something to live for.

Sitting inside the cabin, the smell of venison drifts toward you. After the incident with the hunting party, you and Charles salvaged what you could of the herd. Neither of you liked the idea of anything going to waste. Some materials were given to the local tribe, and the rest have been feeding the camp for days now. 

Last night, you’d scoured the woods for herbs and other ingredients and discreetly left them on Pearson’s cooking table. You were growing desperate for a flavor other than plain meat. Judging by the faint smell of mint wafting through the air, it seems he finally took the hint. 

Propped against your flimsy pillow, you run your fingers along the worn leather of the journal in your lap. For weeks, you’ve toyed with the idea of opening it, of seeing the world through Arthur’s eyes. 

Here, in the rare serenity of a quiet camp, you finally give in. The journal is as you would expect, sketches, details of some of the more pivotal moments for the gang. Every once in a while you’ll find a sketch of someone and a brutally honest recollection of how Arthur thought of them. Some of them are less flattering than you would have thought, you’re almost worried for how he might have seen you. 

You make it through his entries about Blackwater, the sun setting lower in the horizon as the light from the window gets dimmer. Outside, voices grow louder as people gather around the fire for dinner. You force your eyes to stay on the page, blocking out their drifting voices. 

His entries after the mountains are almost amusing. He’s clearly frustrated about something, though, he skirts around directly addressing what it is. Only a few times are you directly mentioned, for the most part, he avoids writing about you. But you catch glimpses of yourself hiding in the pages. A half-finished sketch of your hand holding his, the beginnings of your face abandoned before he can finish. 

There’s an entry a few weeks after you acquired Lady. A sketch of her and Diablo grazing together, their noses nearly touching as they crane their necks towards the grass. Surrounding the drawings are small notes about herbs and foliage he’d collected on his hunting trips. Among those sketches, there’s a small blurb about the horses.  

Diablo seems to be taking a liking to Lady, odd pair, I think. 

An odd pair, you suppose there’s not a better way to put it. Something that never should have worked, a devil and a lady, yet it still clawed and fought to find its way. In the end, though, one of them was always going to be left behind. You can’t help but wish it hadn’t been you.

A rough sigh escapes you, and you flip past the next few pages. Then, you stop. A familiar pair of eyes stare back at you. 

You’ve changed so much since this journey began. Your skin is weathered, your once-pristine hair is now more often than not dirtied and knotted from the wind. Your body has grown leaner, stronger, shaped by the relentless movement and harsh diet. The woman in the red dress from St Denis was already a stranger, someone you couldn’t recognize. 

Even from Arthur’s view, you still don’t know her. The general shape of your face remains. You have the same slope to your nose, your jaw still tilts the same way. But your eyes are so different. He drew them with fire, with life, with a fight you had once thought yourself incapable of. 

You feel invulnerable as you stare down at her, as though her fire can be passed so easily to you. The feeling flickers and fades, replaced with the same familiar ache you’ve grown used to. 

You can’t make sense of it, how he could have seen you so kindly, and yet still walked away. 

“Got that look in your eye again,” Sadie’s voice cuts through the stillness, startling you. She leans against the doorway, one hand lingering on the revolver strapped to her hip. 

“What look?” You mutter, glaring down at the journal. It feels too raw, too personal to keep reading. Torturing yourself with thoughts of him isn’t getting you anywhere. He’s gone. You’ve faced death all your life- mourn, move on. That’s how it’s meant to go.  

“Angry,” Sadie tells you, voice soft and knowing. “Like how I looked after I lost Jake. You ain’t look like that when you lost your husband.”

You shrug, fingers tracing the lines of your face through Arthur’s eyes. “Arthur was nothing like my husband. He leaves something to be mourned,” you tell her simply. She watches you a moment longer, but when you get to your feet, her expression sharpens. 

“Going somewhere?”

“Out,” you reply curly, the cabin walls closing in around you. You’re growing tired of the suffocating way Charles and Sadie hover as if they’re both waiting for you to break again. That moment on the cliff, your grief by the fire, it was all a lapse of judgment, nothing more. You’ve fought too damn hard for your freedom just to throw it away because the men you love always leave you behind. 

“Need some compan-”

“No,” you snap, cutting her off. Your tone leaves no room for argument. 

You step outside, the balmy evening air clinging to your skin as you head toward Lady. You don’t know where you’re going, but that’s fine. You just know you need to figure out how to live for yourself. And you can start by riding. 

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, its light threading through the plains like silver threads. Clouds roll overhead, slowly swallowing the stars. You smell rain in the air, a promise of a storm tomorrow. You’re sure you’ll be holed up in the cabins tomorrow while it pours. 

For now, you have the trail and the night for yourself. You let Lady take the lead, her slow gait a soothing rhythm as you settle into the ride. Normally, you don’t risk staying away from camp overnight. There are too many lawmen and bounty hunters looking to make a name for themselves. Tonight, though, you make an exception. 

A loud whoop cuts through the stillness, yanking you from your thoughts. You pull Lady to a halt, eyes roaming the dark horizon. A lone rider crests the hill, silhouetted against the moonlight, his path set toward something hidden around the bend.

“Must be my lucky day!” He hollers, voice manic. There’s a flash, the sharp crack of a gunshot splitting the quiet, and a scream follows. 

You curse under your breath, driving your heels into Lady’s sides. The two of you round the bend in time to see the rider poking his head into a finely adorned carriage. The driver slumps lifelessly over the reins, blood pooling beneath him.

Grimacing, you draw back into the shadows of the hill. “Alright, ladies first,” the bandit taunts. He reaches into the carriage, his groping hand causing a shrill shriek before he’s grabbing a woman and tossing her into the dirt. You grit your teeth, tucking yourself further out of sight, hoping to go unnoticed.

The glint of his revolver catches the moonlight as he climbs into the carriage. From inside, the muffled sounds of arguing give way to fists striking flesh. The woman lies with her face obscured by her hands. She flinches and sobs with each punch landed and the noises make Lady shift uneasily. Her hooves snap against the dried brambles of a dying bush. 

“Damn horse,” you mutter, eyes clenched shut as the noises momentarily pause. 

“Who’s there?” He calls out. It’s barely a moment before his patience snaps and he fires a warning shot into the air. “You don’t want me to come find you,” he warns, voice low and tight. 

Knocking the brim of your hat down, you let out a resigned sigh and turn the corner, forcing yourself into the open. “Howdy,” you call out, trying to mimic the casual confidence Arthur used to have in moments like these. Bandits, outlaws- they all recognize each other through the ease with which they face situations like this. You only hope you’re a good enough liar. “Just passin’ through, friend, no need for problems.” 

For a moment, his gun dips to his side. Then, his face is twisting into a wide, erratic grin. “Nice trail isn’t it? Perfect for catching big fish,” he says, swinging the revolver toward the woman’s husband. She whimpers loudly and grasps at the slumped-over man. You can hear his shallow, wet breaths from where you sit. 

“There ain’t no need to shoot ‘em,” you tell him, voice steady despite the tension coiling around you. “There’s a fence not far from here, you’ll get more money selling that carriage than you will killin’ them.”

He crackles and it makes your skin crawl. “Where’s the fun in that?” He sneers, cocking the hammer back as he points the gun at the woman. 

This man laughs, taking far more pleasure in tormenting others than in the act of robbery itself. He’s malicious, sadistic—the very picture of a perfect outlaw. For a fleeting moment, he sees something in you, thinks you might be cut from the same ruthless cloth. But he’s wrong, and there’s something exhilarating about stepping beyond the mold your family and husband once shaped for you, discovering who you can be on your own terms.

Your hand drifts to the revolver on your side, slowly easing it out of your holster. His head snaps toward the sound of you pulling the hammer back, but it’s too late. From your spot atop Lady, all you see is blood splatter as his body drops to the floor. The woman screaming lets you know you hit your mark near perfect. 

Opposed to the man now bleeding out in the dirt beneath you, there’s no thrill in the kill, no satisfaction. Just the cold thrum of your nerves, the slight tremor in your hands as you slide off Lady and stride toward the couple. 

With the bandit dead, the woman’s husband seems to make a miraculous recovery. He springs up, blood still streaming along his chin. “Thank God for you, sir-”

He stops short when you tip your hat back. Perhaps his ears were still ringing from one too many blows, dulling his senses, or maybe he was simply too pigheaded to grasp the fact that he’d just been rescued by a woman. You level him with an unimpressed glare. “Not a problem,” you say flatly

“Oh, good heavens,” the woman gasps, whispering your name with a startling familiarity. You freeze, eyes wide, as your blood runs cold. 

Elsbeth Morton. 

You’d know the voice anywhere. Of all the people you could have run into, she’s the last you’d ever want to see. Your tormenter through finishing school. She used to cut your hair in your sleep, stain your dress, and make your life a misery for sport. 

Her sneer hasn’t changed, though the lines around her mouth suggest her spite has only deepened. “Well,” she drawls, voice laced with faux pity, “I see nothing much has changed for you. Still scrounging out an existence in the dirt, are we?”

Your jaw tightens. “Elsbeth,” you grit out. “You’re welcome.”

She laughs, short and derisive in a way that makes you bristle. “For what? Subjecting me to this humiliating spectacle? Honestly, I think I preferred the company of the bandit. At least he had the decency to get on with it instead of pretending to play the hero.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay calm, but she doesn’t stop. “It’s almost tragic,” she continues, brushing the dirt from her skirts as if trying to erase the sight of you. “You’re still so desperate for approval, aren’t you? Trying to prove you’re something you’re not. What’s next? A big speech about how strong and independent you are?” She snickers, tugging her husband to his feet. “We both know better.”

Your voice comes out low and steady. “You’ve always been good at pretending you’re better than everyone else, Elsbeth.” God hates you, you’re sure of it. If he doesn't, why is she here? Dragging you back to everything you loathed about your former self—the vapid, dependent, hollow shell of a woman who had once believed her worth was defined by the man standing beside her.

“Pretending?” she snaps, narrowing her eyes. “Darling, I don’t need to pretend. You can wear all the trousers you want, but we both know you’re still the same timid little girl, hiding behind a man and hoping no one notices she doesn’t belong.”

Her words cut, but they don’t sting the way they once would have. Instead, they ignite something, a fire born not of anger, but clarity. 

You’re not the man bleeding out in the dirt, killing for the joy of it. But you aren’t the polished girl she remembers, desperate for a man’s approval. You’re something else entirely. Unbound by society, free to choose your own path, you’re a beast of your own creation. And if there is one thing you’ve learned about yourself- you love putting your past in the grave. 

You let out a slow breath, your hand drifting toward your revolver. “Elsbeth,” you call, voice sharp enough to cut through her self-satisfied grin.

She stops, turning back with an arched brow. “What now?” she huffs. “Come to beg for my acceptance? Or just another pathetic attempt to-”

“That husband of mine,” you interrupt, voice cool as steel, “was good for one thing.” You draw your revolver, the barrel leveling with her chest. “Teaching me to shoot.”

Her eyes widen, her sneer faltering as her hand instinctively flies to her necklace.

Your lips curl into a wicked smile. “Now, how about you hand over those pretty jewels?”

She scoffs, but you see the way her grin falters, the slight fear in her eyes. You shoot her a wink and take a step closer, reveling in how she stumbles back. 

“And while we’re at it,” you continue, voice tightening into a sharp, mocking edge, “why don’t you hand over those earrings too?” You laugh, waving your gun recklessly as you shrug with a faux playfulness. “Actually, what the hell, I think I’ll take that dress—seeing as you’ve gone and gotten it all muddy anyway.” You take a step forward, your gaze narrowing on her trembling hands. “Hell, even that hair ribbon. You always did like rubbing your finery in everyone’s face, Elsbeth. Let’s see how you like losing it.”

She stares at you, disbelief flickering in her wide eyes, her hands frozen in hesitation. “You can’t be serious,” she whispers.

“Oh, I’m dead,” you pull back the hammer of your gun with a slow, menacing click. The sound hangs in the air like a threat. Your eyes narrow, and a dangerous smile tugs at your lips. “Serious.”

She moves hesitantly, every motion weighted with reluctance, disbelief etched across her face. You, the woman she used to torment and cow with a simple look, now dismantling her composure piece by piece. The power shift is palpable, and for the first time in your life, you watch Elsbeth Morton falter.

“Go’n now,” you say, your voice cutting through her trembling silence. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Her husband flinches as she begins to remove her jewelry, her fingers trembling as she unfastens each piece. You hold out your hand, and she hesitates, her face flushed with humiliation as she steps forward to place them carefully in your palm, one by one, like a chastened child.

He glances at you, then at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disgust as if the sight of her submitting is too much for him to stomach.

Your eyes narrow on him, your hand tightening slightly around the revolver. The smug smile creeping onto your lips says it all—you’ll deal with him next.

You understand, finally, that you’re no longer the woman shaped by the men in your life. The husband who failed you, the outlaw who abandoned you, the society that tried to break you. People will learn that you aren’t afraid to take what’s yours anymore, because for the first time, you’re carving your own path, and God help anyone who tries to stand in your way.

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

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In Defense of Cassie Hobbes

Cassie Hobbes is so underrated in her own book series.

Everyone is always talking about the love triangle but never talk about Cassie's individual character.

They'll talk about everyone's else's traumatic backstories but never mention how Cassie had found her own mother's murder scene and spent years not knowing what happened to her. They'll just say that Cassie wasn't as traumatised as the other Naturals, so her pain isn't as valid.

They'll talk about how Cassie was being rude to Michael for not answering his question at the end of Killer Instinct, but fail to mention how Michael only cared about her getting with Dean and not that she'd almost been killed. They'll just say that she was being a "bitch" for not picking him when he could've been so good to her.

It's rarely brought up how, when her "mother's body" was found, Lia (not slander) told her to not make a big deal about it because it "wasn't her turn" to be having issues. The person Cassie had been searching for was "found dead" and she was practically told to just "suck it up".

And even after finding out her mother was still alive, and being held captive by a murderous cult, Cassie ended up having to kill her just so she'd be free. The person Cassie had been searching for, thought had died, found out was alive, still ended up losing her in the end.

And yet, people will tell you that Cassie Hobbes is nothing more than a "whiny bitch" who couldn't pick between two boys. But when she did, it wasn't the boy they preferred, so they still hated on her for picking the "wrong" option.

Cassie Hobbes is not a "whiny bitch" who was mean for not choosing Michael. She's a strong-willed person who'd been traumatised from her mother's disappearance and joined the Naturals program in hopes of finding her/helping others so they didn't experience the pain she went through with her mother's disappearance.

Her pain was just as valid as the others in the program. Don't downplay it just because you personally don't think she suffered like everyone else. EVERYONE in the program had experienced something traumatic, and downplaying any of them is just terrible.

All in all, I love Cassie with my whole heart. She's a brave person who, despite everything she went through in the series, still managed to be a compassionate, loving person. All she wanted was the best for those around her. She's not the evil person that people make her out to be.

Love you, Cassie Hobbes <333

[hyog-blog]

Emotionally this scene is so hot and intense. Zhuo Yichen demanding answers from Zhao Yuanzhou, for it, for him to make sense, especially in the context of his own (already awakened) feelings. And it must be driving our boy literally insane - the contradiction of Zhao Yuanzhou being his family's killer, the one demon who single-handedly destroyed the Demon Hunting Bureau (which was kind of everything ZYC ever knew at that point, that it was it, his life was just that, and his future as well).

And Zhu Yan destroyed not only his family, nearly cutting down the whole lineage apart from Zhuo YIchen, but also the organization, that was put to a halt and nearly ceased to exist, and he literally took whatever meaning Zhuo Yichen's life had and threw it in the gutters. So ZYC was not simply alone, with his whole family dead, but also meaningless and without a place to go, or to be, or something to do in this world, his ancestral home becoming a limbo of sorts, with him - a lost soul that had no means to move on, to start living again.

Because he was an anomaly from the start and whatever he would become - would always be in the context of demons, and BIng Yi, and murders, and investigations, and all that weird stuff that most people considered as nightmares personified. He was already a part of all that even when he didn't really know it himself, just following his brother around, just being, just going through that archive of books and writings about monsters that were actually his kin in a way (and when he learns that Bing Yi was, actually, a demon, in my headcanon that would have shattered his self-identity quite a bit, at least for some time).

And now we meet this boy, already a young man, who has single-handedly restored the Demon Hunting Bureau, finding it in himself to build his own meaning of life from scratch, getting back that place in life he thought was his and that it mattered, and that his service to all those people was what he's supposed to do (and probably, the only thing he could do being an anomaly, an outcast, someone stuck between the worlds of humans and demons). He has more in common with Wen Xiao than we might think upon meeting him first. She's a bridge between the demon and human worlds, but he's also a bridge, or rather a shield protecting the human world from the demons and, as he later learns, maybe simply protecting the innocent, be it demon or human, from the ones that want to hurt them, no matter what realms they come from.

And so he meets Zhao Yuanzhou having just figured things out for himself, and suddenly learns that the world, again, isn't so black-and-white and even that gruesome hideous murder had so many layers to it and wasn't at all what he perceived it to be. And the man who had been his dreamless nightmare all these years turned out to be a whimsical creature that only appeared to be dangerous when he first saw him, yet possessed no killer intent whatsoever. And in fact, turned out to be a protector as well, trying to protect everyone from himself first and foremost.

And he watches this gorgeous mysterious man, as complex as he is, getting close to Wen Xiao, whom Zhuo Yichen adores more than any other woman in this world (emphasis on woman) and he already has feelings for Zhao Yuanzhou as well, however suppressed and unfathomable they are for now, and he wants this man to give him answers, but whatever Zhao Yuanzhou can give him - it's not that. It's not the certainty of being bad enough to just kill him and be done with it, and it's definitely not a certainty that he deserves to be killed at all. And even not the certainty of him seeking death at this point, even though he continues to talk about it, but it's not so strong now, not to the extent that it was before, when Zhuo Yichen first met the Great Demon.

And this is where he finds himself that night, when Zhao Yuanzhou finally approaches him for that don't-hesitate-to-murder-me pep talk, and Wen Xiao is brought up, and his newly found will to live (or something close to it) through that affection only, but Zhuo Yichen doesn't know it yet, that it's not just that affection that keeps this demon from deteriorating into the depths of despair facing that goddamn horrifying blood moon all over again, that destroyed so many lives, including the life of this gorgeous young and so very sensitive Zhuo Yichen. That there's another type of affection and feeling and need that draws him to Zhuo Yichen that night in an attempt to protect him from this, as best as he can, giving him that immunity from the one-word spell, and asking him to live well no matter what happens next, knowing already that it might turn into a bloodbath at some point.

But this time ZYZ is as proactive as he can be, and he trusts Zhuo Yichen enough to kill him or at least to stay alive and protect Wen Xiao. It will be bad, he knows that much, but at this moment and in this instance he comes to spend this time of his own uncertainty with Zhuo Yichen not only because the boy needs this to stay strong and to realize what he's actually facing, but also because Zhao Yuanzhou needs him to stay strong himself with whatever ZYZ is facing again, with that glaring possibility of losing control and wreaking havoc everywhere, with this one young man, truly, being the only one who could stop him at this point. Kill him. Save him from this torment. And it's heavy, and Zhao Yuanzhou knows it is, so he goes for that talk and talks carefully around the very notion of ending his life, but also - about that and that only, sensing Zhuo Yichen's confusion as if it was truly his own, and that turmoil of emotions, and that need to understand, to make everything make sense somehow.

And so they talk. And do some magic. And none of them gets much relief after that conversation is over, but there's a certainty now. That at least this one boy would be protected from the Great Demon's magic. And if he has a chance of surviving the blood moon, than so does Wen Xiao (who probably is protected by their contract anyway, but Zhuo Yichen isn't, and it matters to Zhao Yuanznou already oh-so-much).

And Zhuo Yichen is left even more strained and confused than before because of all the contradictions he's facing, this demon acting not like an enemy, even though he's about to become one, but rather like a caring friend. And what is he supposed to make out of all that? When he simply doesn't, just doesn't want to kill him, no matter what.

[hmsdoodlin]

Forever and always thinking about how Hearts time in apathy could have affected Whole and the other two.

I personally like to think he was down there for at least a week or one month, which is so much time to negatively impact everyone!!!

Did Whole change? Did he become completely numb and disinterested with the outside world and his own intrests? Does he eventually stop finding enjoyment in things and begins to live on auto pilot? Two dead eyes staring into the mirror when Mind wrestles him out of bed to brush his teeth.

What about Mind? Is he overwhelmed with this new responsibility? He thought he’d be able to do it all alone but Heart contributed a lot more than he initially realized. Is he confused? Frustrated that piloting their host gets harder and harder as the days pass? Does he start to spiral? For the first time in his life he got what he wanted and it’s not working how he thought it would. So much time planning, so many nights imagining himself as the leader, why is he failing? What if he takes all of his anger out on Heart with his songs, the 3 song tangent being him getting more and more frustrated. Whole isn’t getting better and instead of accepting that he might be wrong he only hates Heart harder.

I can’t even guess how it affected Soul, only showing up at the very end to put a stop to this once and for all. Did he feel empty too? Did his chest ache everyday for the man 6 feet under? Did he finally show up because Mind was killing their Whole just like Heart had predicted? Or was it because he was finally ready to give up?

You can even go into how it affects their house! Does it get colder? Are all of the pictures of Heart magically wiped away and covered in purple ooze? Do clocks begin to appear and tick louder and louder until it’s deafening? Is the sun brighter? Does it blind your eyes? Does it burn your skin when you step outside? What about the opposite? What if the headspace gets colder and colder, more snow piling up everyday as the sun emits no real warmth. Does the moon disappear? Are the nights unfathomably dark?

SO MUCH COULD HAPPEN

[rainintheevening]

I mean... think about it. Who does Banquo love the best after his son? Who does he trust the most, and confide in, and tell endless stories of to his wide-eyed son? Who would be the most important person Fleance would know to run to, should anything go awry?

He's maybe 12, coming back to the palace with his father after a long ride, all pink cheeks and tired but happy, and still thrilled that his father is the closest friend of the new king, and they're staying at the palace now. He takes the torch to light their way down the path from the gate, because he always carries the torch for his father.

His father remarks there will be rain tomorrow.

And then the rush, the torch knocked from his hand and gone out, the scraping of steel as his father tries to draw his sword, and Fleance reaches for his dagger, but the shadows are hulking and his father is shouting over the attackers grunts and complaints. "Fly, fly, fly!" he cries, and the boy obeys.

He knows who to run to for help, he knows who he can trust. He knows how brave and fierce a warrior Macbeth is. So he runs, small and slim, and sure-footed even in the dark.

He does not hear the death gurgle, though his own fear chokes him, knowing his father is probably dead, hoping with the wild hope of youth that Banquo can fight, can fend them off long enough, until Macbeth should come. He doesn't know how many more attackers there might be, he can't be sure they won't come after him. So he skitters off the path, weaves through the trees, trying to remember where the side entrances are, thinking he should slip in through the kitchens. He can't trust anyone until he gets to Macbeth, until Macbeth knows. Macbeth will protect him.

So he slips and he sneaks through the dark, through the doors, taking the round-about way even if it's longer, moving fast, thinking forward, only ahead, not back, he can't think back, not now. There's a feast on, he and his father were supposed to be guests of honour at it. But now the food smells make him nauseous. He skulks through the shadows of the scullery, catching snippets of chatter from the servants: the meal is being served, the feast is gathered, the king is in the hall.

Scottish castles aren't much for decoration, not even the king's, but there's enough people coming and going for him to slip through, and he takes refuge against a chest in a corner, trying to catch his breath, trying to listen for Macbeth's voice. He thinks that voice will mean safety, will mean rescue.

He hears the murderer's rough voice first, and his heart near stops with terror. They've come after him, they'll find him, they'll kill him too. His fingers tremble as he wraps them around his dagger hilt, remembering his father's plea to avenge him. And he determines to take at least one man with him. He doesn't hear Macbeth's approach, or he may have leapt up with a wild determination to save at least Macbeth from the killers.

The first thing he hears from Macbeth is quick, anxious, so much so he's not quite sure it is Macbeth. "There's blood on thy face."

He's gone still, so still, stiller than a rabbit under the eye of a hound, he does not even blink, because the voice is right above him now, both of the voices...

"Oh, tis Banquo's then."

Father...

"Well, better you without than he within. Is he dispatched then?"

"I cut his throat myself. But the son is fled."

The son is fled, yes, the son is fled to sit by and hear his father's best and dearest companion delight in his father's murder, and wish for the son's death. The son is fled to the shadows he thought would protect him, but he sits in the shadow of death.

He doesn't blink or twitch or even breathe for what seems a long time.

When he comes back to himself, the banquet is prepared, everyone is in the feast hall, where he can hear Macbeth's voice. The kindling of rage sparks in Fleance, and he draws his dagger, rising from his shadowed corner, suddenly uncaring for his own life, when none better than Judas stands in the other room. But he looks up, and... he would speak but he cannot, for he thinks he sees his father standing there, over by the stairs, shaking his head, and there's blood all down his shirt, but he's looking at his son, and Fleance can hear the words as if in distant echo—Fly, fly, fly!

Fleance is a dutiful son, he loves his father more than anyone else in the world, he will do what his father commands. So he sheathes the dagger. He slides back into the shadows, and fancies the shadow of Banquo follows him. (They are the lights relegated to the shadows, reduced to flickers.)

In the quiet stables (grooms away to their own supper) gathering the saddle, hands slipping over his father's handsome seat, seeing Banquo's sweet grey mare nicker at him, his hands begin to shake.

In the distance the hue and cry is raised, but he does not hear, for he is weeping suddenly, stumbling to Thistledown's side to cling to her neck, before he turns away and is violently sick.

No one hears him, no one finds him.

He takes Thistledown, rather than his own pony. Somehow he cannot bear to leaver her behind, as if she might be next for Macbeth to want dead. They ride out into the night, a chill rain blowing in from the east, and covering their passage. The boy has only his plaid, his dagger, his flint, a bit of bread and a small skin of wine pillaged from a groom's things, and heart breaking under the weight of betrayal and loss and loneliness.

He does not know where to go now. He knows he can never return. He knows he will survive.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

It must really suck to be a YA villain. Like, there you are, your evil armies are winning, the rebels are dying, and the teenager prophesized to bring you down is bound and gagged at your feet. The teenager's love interest is slowly bleeding to death in the corner, your death machine is almost fully powered up, and you're just about to finish your monologue. The one you've been really looking forward to ever since the third time the teenager foiled your plans.

Suddenly, the Powerful and Ancient Mythical Sword that hasn't been seen in 3000 years pops out of thin air. You recognize it at once. You've been looking for it all your life. You stare in awe at the Sword, every ounce of your attention focused on the one thing you never thought you'd actually find.

In that split second of inattention, the teenager's best friend, who you were pretty sure you decapitated earlier, leaps out of the shadows. Their head is sewn back on and they has a Potion of Untying Ropes in their hand. The very same potion that idiot Duke Second Incommandly swore up and down he'd locked in his most secure safe. The best friend throws the Potion at the teenager. It shatters, untying their ropes instantly. The teenager springs to their feet and the sword, your sword, flies into their hand. Their hand is glowing green. He must have bathed in the Secret River of Controlling the Ancient Sword! But you also bathed in the Secret River of Controlling the Ancient Sword back when you thought the Powerful and Ancient Mythical Sword was in that inn run by the teenagers recently rediscovered middle aged relative. Why isn't it heeding your mental command? Could you have accidentally bathed in the False Secret River of Controlling the Ancient Sword That Looks Exactly Like The Real River But Doesn't Actually Control Anything? But Duke Second Incommandly swore up and down that he'd found the real river!

While you're cursing the Duke, who is even now leading your evil army in a suicidally overconfident charge up the Hill of Everyone Who Charges Up This Hill Dies and Their Army Gets Eaten By the Tragically Oppressed and Adorable Gobblemonster, the teenager charges you, sword raised high. Their blow strikes true! The Powerful and Ancient Mythical Sword cuts through your Shadow Armor and plunges deep into your torso. But, you cry out, you turned your torso into a ghost during a ritual when you were still an Attractive But Troubled Youth! The rumors of the Sword eating ghosts must be true! You must flee. All that's saving you now is the teenager's morality resurfacing just in time to keep them from striking the final blow killing you. You summon up your last bit of power and bind your ghost torso to the teenager's lifeforce. Ha! Now no one can kill you unless they want their precious savior to turn into a ghost torso too.

While the teenager struggles with the Weight of Your Tortured Ghost Torso, you flee. In the distance, you see the last remnants of your evil army, along with your death machine, swallowed up by the Gobblemonster.

Oh well, you think. At least you managed to kill the teenager's love interest this time.

You take one last look back to savor the anguish on your sworn enemy's face when they realize the love of their life has died and nothing they can do will save them...

Only to see the teenager scream in rage and break the Sword over their knee! They, and you, are stunned into shocked and surprised disbelief as there, inside the broken blade, lies the Mystic Wand of Bringing One Person Back to Life Before Destroying Itself Forever! You watch in dismay as the teenager uses it to raise their love interest from the dead as the ghostly manifestations of the teenagers Dead Parents and Other Assorted Parental Figures silently forgive him for not using the wand to bring them back to life instead. The teenager can only see them because you passed your Ghost Seeing Powers along with your Ghost Torso. The teenager cries in joy at seeing their parents for the first time since you murdered them.

Victory has once again turned into defeat.

This isn't even the fifth time this exact thing has happened to you.

[fuji09]

Derek Hale isn't as... grown-up as you think.

Part 2 of my "[character] isn't as..." series.

Yes, Derek Hale is an adult. No matter if he is 19, 20, 21, 22, ect... Derek is an adult season 1.

However, just because he is in his early twenties, doesn't make him a grown ass adult (as some like to lovingly call him).

Due to trauma that started when he was 15, Derek does not know how to adult.

At 15 he has to kill the girl he loves, Paige, to end her suffering as she's dying.

Then soon after, Kate Argent manipulates, grooms, uses, abuses, sexually assaults, and rapes Derek, when he is 15/16.

Then Kate burns his home to the ground with his family inside, losing his entire world. Only Laura and Peter (known at the time) survived. Peter was severely burned and catatonic. Cora was assumed dead in the fire but we later find she survived too.

So now Laura and Derek are the only ones left, and they leave their only home to go across the country to run and hide from hunters.

Laura is the alpha with only Derek as pack and they run away and end up hiding in New York for 6 years. Just the two of them for 6 years. We aren't really shown what went on during those 6 year, did they party to forget their troubles? Did they hide themselves away from everybody and became hermits? Did they just start over and live normal human lives?

Derek is constantly running. He can't ever settle, can't have security or feel safe. Always looking over his shoulder, and this starts when he's 15/16.

Now Laura returns to Beacon Hills and leaves Derek behind. She is killed and Derek comes looking for her, all alone. Derek returns to the place where he lost it all to try to find his sister, the only family he had left.

He finds out Laura was killed and ripped in half. That there is now an alpha running wild in Beacon Hills. There's a newly bitten werewolf. There are also hunters. The Argents, who is Kate's family, mock Derek's lack of family left alive. Derek could have easily turned around and left. Go right back to New York and not deal with this mess. But he doesn't leave. He stays.

He tries to help the newly bitten werewolf to the best of his ability. This boy can't even take care of himself but he's still trying to help Scott.

Scott fights him along the way, the alpha keeps attacking, and Derek tries to keep Scott from being killed, found out, or hurt someone.

Derek has no clue what to do. He was never meant to be an alpha. The guy lives in his burnt out husk of house and then lives in an abandoned train station.

He's literally still stuck as that 15 year old kid who lost it all. Derek makes many mistakes, and I think part of it has to do with not knowing how to speak to people. He's very short with everyone, uses facial expressions more than words, and has a hard time understanding others.

He gets frustrated easily and then reacts by getting physical, like shoving Scott in the wall and threatening to kill him if Scott risks everything by playing in the Lacrosse game even though he doesn't have a handle on his shifting and there are hunters everywhere. Turns out to be an empty threat because Scott does play and Derek does not kill him.

Derek still acts like a kid, and I honestly believe what helped him start to grow and actually become an adult was Scott. Derek felt responsible for Scott even though he didn't bite him. Sometimes people become the adult they are supposed to be when they get a pet or have a baby. They get their shit together when someone is dependent on them. Derek took Scott on like a brother.

Their relationship is a lot like brothers. They fight and argue, they protect each other, and they help (begrudgingly) each other. They may threaten to kill each other, but then when someone is actually trying to hurt the other, they protect each other.

Derek starts to grow up when he's around Scott and Stiles. Stiles is kinda like the annoying best friend of his now younger brother, so now he has someone who can dish it and take, but also someone who can help him figure shit out.

Derek doesn't have his shit together, he's a hot mess. He's scared and angry. He definitely has PTSD, it makes sense how he reacts to things. He also deals with severe guilt, anxiety, depression, self harm, and he's basically suicidal.

He does know how to keep his strength in check though. We see Stiles shoved against a wall by several people, Scott, Erica, Theo, and Derek. But Derek is the only one who doesn't shove him too hard. Derek is the only one who doesn't hurt Stiles when he shoved him, and most of the movement we see from Stiles is him jumping from being startled.

He does hit Stiles' head on the steering wheel, which Stiles totally deserved, but it wasn't hard enough to leave a mark or do any damage, it was just enough of a warning to never do that again. He knows how to be more gentle with humans.

Derek is a martyr and I really do believe he's suicidal because he also doesn't care if he dies, even though he partly doesn't want to die. He has zero self worth and has no issue with dying if it helps someone. He literally has to prove his worth to Scott and Stiles that they need him so he is worth saving. He doesn't think he's worth saving unless he's useful to someone and he believes that everyone else thinks that way too.

Derek puts up this rough front to keep people away to protect himself from getting hurt again. He makes himself look unapproachable and mean. But he actually cares a lot. He hides as a defense mechanism.

He was taught pain makes you human and keeps you near your humanity and that it also speeds up the healing process so he ends up hurting several werewolves, Scott, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Jackson. Whether it's to help them heal, teach them to hold on to their humanity, or fight even harder, he teaches these things to the other betas.

Derek is so damaged and stuck. He has trust issues. He may be wealthy, but he doesn't know what to do with it. He doesn't spend it for a long time. For two seasons he's squatting, until finally season 3 he gets a loft.

Derek may be an adult, but he definitely wasn't grown up for seasons 1 and 2.

Derek gets along with the teens because he still has the teen mindset. Which causes him to not always make the best choices.

He is still is an easy target to manipulate and try to control. As we see when Peter reveals he's the alpha. In order to keep Peter away from Stiles and not get himself killed, he has to "join" Peter's side. Which by the look on his face the whole time he hates it and doesn't actually agree with Peter, but he pretends for a while. He has to stand by and watch as his uncle assaults Scott again and gives him the memories of the fire. Which side note, I think Peter did that as a jab at Scott for saying maybe the Argents has a good reason to burn the Hales. Doesn't make it right at all, but it makes sense that he would be angry about that comment.

Derek knows he's hot and he uses that to his advantage when needed, but also because he seems to think that's all he's good for when it comes to girls. He's so awkward with women in the first 2 seasons. He seems unable to actually flirt well until season 3.

He works out way more than he should, punishing his body to hurt himself. He lets himself be shot, tazed, shocked, and beaten because he feels that he deserves it. He truly thinks he's a bad person and he's not. He self sabotages at times because he gets too cocky or scared when something is actually going right.

Derek actually tries though. He keeps getting kicked while he's down. He perseveres and he fucks up. And he also learns from those mistakes and tries to be better.

You can find part 1 of my" [character] isn't as..." series here about Stiles.

Hope y'all enjoyed part 2 about Derek and I'll be back with a part 3. Can y'all guess who it will be about?

[shanastoryteller]

so, you've been posting/reblogging about sam being the exception to the rules of "This is alright to do when everyone else does it/ It's not alright to do but we can do it to sam". Do you have any fanfic recs that throw that hat around? Like, they realize they were actually in the wrong? or some good fix it? some bad break it?

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

honestly not this fandom's strong suit. probably the most self indulgent part of see something say something is having dean accept that sam going to stanford wasn't a personal attack, was something he needed to do for himself, and the no contact trauma of it all was pretty much entirely john's fault. in canon he's literally betrayed by sam going to college until he DIES. he never chills or gives credit to the idea that sam deserved and needed space to grow outside of him

there are a couple "sam dies in the panic room" fics floating around out there, which are pretty good, but relatively short and sort of only deal with the immediate regret that dean feels because his brother is dead and not really because he understands how he fucked up

here are some that sort of qualify, but nothing that quite scratches the id for this in the exact way i'd like. unfortunately i think to really dig into this (for me) you've got to hit "sam was both saved and destroyed by dean's deal" and "dean came back wrong" right over the head before you can really deal with the repercussions of it. which is both hard and sort of an unpopular opinion! so i get it

feel free to drop your own recs if you have them!

Crossed Wires by rivkat (summary: A spnj2xmas gift for costsofregret, who liked angst, pining!Sam, one thinking the other is dead, and hurt/comfort. It’s like you know me.) sort of deals with the concept of sam's autonomy but it's pretty brief.

One Saved Message by ratherastory (summary: After a hunting accident puts Sam out of commission for a couple of days, Dean decides to surprise his brother with a new phone, since his old one is toast. Even better is when he finds that he’s been able to save all of Sam’s old information and restore it to his cell. That’s when he discovers an old voicemail that Sam has kept saved for the last two and a half years… Charity fic for help_japan. sinka won a fic from me and requested some Voicemail fix-it fic, and that is what I have attempted here. Spoilers for all aired episodes up to 6.19.) deals with the voicemail but not really all the actions dean took to make that voicemail believable

Paint Me a Monster by TheMarvelousTolkienJob (summary: Sam is a freak. He knows that and, after everything that happened with Ruby and the demon blood, Dean finally does too. Not that they actually talk about it or anything. No, they wait around for Sam to be kidnapped and tortured before they do that.) is a fic focused on all of this and it addresses the voicemail and the reasons the voicemail was believable but it doesn't end with anything so much resolved as it is at least in the open air. which is a perfectly good ending, i just want closure T_T

The Talking Cure by Mollyamory (Molly) (summary: Dean tries to keep his mouth shut, but as much as he wants to keep quiet, he also wants to say--) set immediately after season 8 with no gadreel. dean feels the need to reiterate what he said in the church

Soft Like a Blue Triceratops by sprinkles888 (summary: Sam finishes the trials, expecting to die. Instead, he gets a life that sounds idyllic - the demons locked away, the angels gone (mostly), and Dean by his side. All he has to worry about is the various monsters attempting to fill the power vacuum; a too-empty bunker; his own deteriorating mental health; Dean’s dive back into alcoholism; and not getting enough sleep (even for him). Oh yeah, and that pesky fact that his dreams are starting to seem a little bit too much like visions. He can handle it. He can. (Sometimes he can’t.) If this is healing, Sam sure doesn’t want to know what deterioration looks like. A season eight finale/post-season 8 AU) is probably the closest i've found that really comes down to grilling both on how messed up the brothers are and how it's taking a toll on sam specifically, but it doesn't really get into the double standards of it all. bold for emphasis is mine, because my god that's really the whole fic. great exploration of them, but it did hurt to read

not at all in the vein of the ask, but by the same author Sounds Like Truth and Feels Like Courage by sprinkles888 (summary: Turns out that the Men of Letters had a way to perform magic on the regular without the messiness of witchcraft. All they need for it is a pair of soulmates, a couple of rings from the bunker, and a willingness to spend time platonically touching. And, well, the Winchesters are already sitting at two out of three… (In which Sam and Dean cuddle, spend time being emotionally vulnerable, mend relationships, learn just how powerful their souls are, find power in memories, watch way too much Netflix, and become targets of an organized group of monsters set on killing them.)) is a comfy warm fic about the boys by the same author that i can reread without hurting my own feelings

[crow2222]

Two Darry x Paul fic wips I'll probably never finish 💔

———————————————

"Paul. Paul get up, you were gonna drive me home."

Darry shook his boyfriend's shoulder until the other smacked his hand away with a groan.

"That was yesterday. Leave me alone."

"If I come home and everyone's awake, I'm as good as dead."

Paul turned around in the bed then, rubbing his eyes open. "No shit? I thought they weren't strict."

"Well, not really." Darry pulled the covers off Paul, who weakly grabbed at them, before kicking it under the bedframe. "I mean it, I gotta get home- and I ain't walking, no way."

"Okay, okay! Let me find my pants at least, God."

Darry took one last glance at Paul’s bare ass before walking off to Paul's very own car. He'd wished for his own long before his dirty shoes could've even reached the pedals with his toes, but his family could barely afford the one truck they got now.

He wasn't dumb, but maybe a dreamer. A wisher? Darry wasn't quite sure how to describe himself, and that applied to everything.

The car roared to life as the two of them jumped in at the same time. Despite the rushing Darry had done, he was nervous for Paul to be behind the wheel. Was he even aware that he was awake?

Not that Darry had a lot of time to think about that, as the were speeding down the road in record time.

Christmas came and went as per usual, the decorations left behind even into the next year shining bright on the perfectly manicured lawns of the Soc neighbours.

These holidays always felt like it was Darry's. It was his time to shine, even if winter was his least favourite season. Christmas was his. And Paul's. Seeing how his birthday was only a bit before Christmas itself.

Candy canes, stupid sweaters, presents, elves and Santa. Theirs to take and kick down in town. Each cardboard stand and figure, every single one destroyed or stolen for their own pure selfish sake.

Darry suddenly looked down, he was wearing Paul's sweater instead of his own, and when he turned to look over at Paul, low and behold was his sweater. He looked good in it. It's hard to pick up clothes from the ground in the middle of the night with no light.

Maybe this little mix up wouldn't hurt anybody.

Not any more than last night did, laughter bouncing off the walls in Paul's room as the two of them grew tired. They ended up holding each other under the covers, Paul nuzzling up to Darry's chest, adding a pressure down on him that helped sleep come easily.

Darry tugged at the front of the sweater and sniffed, only to find that he can't. Like how you walk into your own home and never notice the smell of it, unlike the times you visit others.

"I don't think you're sweaty enough to make that fresh sweater smell just yet Dar."

———————————————

Wip no2

———————————————

Paul twirled the little brown strand of hair that stuck out.

He tugged on it gently when it's fully wrapped around his finger, prompting Darry to open his eyes. The man, in turn, is met with a gorgeous sight - his boyfriend laying down next to him, with the morning light from behind him casting a holy glow to his golden curls and lion-like arms.

That's all that was beautiful in his life in that moment, because in the next, he sat straight up like an arrow and started coughing up his lungs from whatever lingered in them during the night.

Paul must've sat up too, for the pounding that struck Darry in the back, which sent him into an even worse coughing fit that even turned into gags by the end of it.

"Shoot, you got something for that cough of yours somewhere?"

Paul wrapped an arm around Darry to keep him upright, who had vaguely registered that he had been swaying.

"Maybe. I'll be fine don't worry, it's my house afterall." He didn't want to mention how he didn't want Paul running around, messing up his organisation and all. Not like he had much of an organised system in the first place.

"No bother at all. Stay in bed, and I'll find something." And he did leave, after a peck on the cheek and a tuck back under the sheets.

[okonogikonomi]

sand.

what's worse, being wanted but not loved, or loved but not wanted?

Kn8 + unrequited feelings. :)

Kafka Hibino has never had unrequited feelings before you. He's happy that you're happy with your boyfriend, Haruichi, but would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of the guy. I mean, Kafka always feels inadequate, but compared to Haruichi it's a different story. He's smart, he's strong, he's attractive, he's rich as hell. It doesn't get more intimidating than that, but to top it all off, he's dating you. It's like a kick in the face. But Kafka's a pretty good sport. He'd honestly just try to become more impressive so you might notice him.

Mina Ashiro is a subdued person in all respects, including and especially when it comes to romantic feelings. So when she finds out that the girl of her dreams is not only Not Gay but is dating Gen Narumi, she hides her anguish well. After finding out, she'd largely avoid you so as not to slip up and say anything or act out of character. She becomes more aloof and tries to kill her feelings. She drowns her sorrows in work, becomes more aggressive on the battlefield and towards her cadets. She's also more hostile towards Gen, which strikes everyone as odd since she usually can't be caught dead behaving in such an unprofessional manner.

Reno Ichikawa is the worst at pretending not to be hurt. So when he finds out your chose Iharu over him, he has to actually leave the room and punch a wall. Pretty much everyone sees what he's going through, but for some reason, you don't seem to notice. Too enamored with your new boyfriend, he thinks resentfully. I'm picturing the scene in Legally Blonde where Elle throws a box of chocolates at the TV, screaming "LIAR" at a romantic soap opera. He's not exactly that dramatic, but that's how he feels on the inside. Love is dead to him and so is Iharu. He never considered the guy a rival before, but now he considers him a full on enemy. Wouldn't try to break you up for fear of you hating him, but would kinda put his hope in Iharu fucking up.

Soshiro Hoshina is seething when he finds out his brother got to you first. Of all people, you chose that jackass?! He's livid. At Soichiro, of course. He could never stay mad at you; he's got to assume his idiot brother lied to you about his nature or something, although deep down he knows you wouldn't fall for it if he did. He gets really intense in sparring and on the battlefield, and punishes cadets extra hard. Every time he sees you with that fucker, he has to physically remove himself from the situation. Would blow up if Soichiro teased you in front of him. Might try to seduce you anyway, despite your being "taken." Fully believes his brother will ditch you eventually which makes him even more angry. Vents to Okonogi.

Iharu Furuhashi actually does cry a little when he finds out you're dating Kafka. How could he ever compete?! Kafka is kind, wise, and strong. Even with all that Kafka himself perceives as shortcomings, everyone else idolize him. And Iharu? He's just some guy to you. Maybe a friend. It breaks him. He becomes really sluggish and distractable. Consistently loses sparring matches to Reno, who is like "dude wtf." Won't tell anyone he's upset, or why, but it's visible.

Gen Narumi probably screams when he hears you've started dating Soshiro. Not only does the guy have that stupid smug attitude, and more fans than Narumi himself, but now he has you too. He wants to rip Hoshina to shreds, but Hasegawa says no lol. Instead, he coops himself up in his room and games for a few weeks. Any kaiju that shows up during this time is toast, because he just pictures his now romantic rival's face on it and goes wild. Insults Hoshina in front of you hoping to sway your opinion, but you just get mad at him which makes him angrier. Might possibly ask you "what's he got that I don't?" Isn't a huge jerk to you but is to everyone else.

Rin Shinonome kinda figured you were dating Narumi. As usual, he's a step ahead of her. She's bitter, but takes it in stride. She uses your unavailability as motivation to better herself. After all, she enjoys adversity. She's the most likely to have fun chasing you, so she's the least upset of the group.

[princesssarahblog]

"obx" characters in "aib"

characters: john b, jj maybank, pope heyward, kiara carrera, cleo anderson, sarah cameron, rafe cameron, ward cameron, big john b

warnin: murders, death, death games and just my headcanons

◇ - intelligence ♤ - physical ♡ - psychology ♧ - balance

author notes: I highly recommend watching "alice in borderland" there are spoilers for this series!

John B ◇ Arisu

john b will lose many people, eventually losing hope for anything. but, with each day in the borderland, his hope for life and the will to get out of here will only become greater.

he is literally the brains of the whole group and always thinks through all the plans, and pope can help him finalize the plan.

his life is always on the line, but his friends and especially sarah are always by his side. he will play the last game with sarah and they will finally put an end to these games

◇ In a way, john b is the equivalent of arisu. he loses people and hope but gains it back slowly. his plans and ideas keep the group together and help them survive. sarah and the others are his source of strength and support, and he does his best to protect and help them. In the end, he plays the final game with sarah and they finally overcome the games and return to the real world

JJ Maybank ♧ Karube

literally almost died from a laser along with kiara when they both protested the games

he became more and more desperate every day but never showed it, he felt lost when he was separated from his group and had to play the games alone.

when jj needs his gun, it's never there. but jj always manages to survive and get out of the water dry.

jj will eventually meet pope and they will both continue playing together and look for the rest of the group.

♧ jj shares many similarities with karube. both are carefree and enjoy living life on the edge, constantly seeking thrills and adventure. however, jj also has a loyal and protective side, always looking out for his friends and ready to stand up for themhis quick wit and ability to think on his feet make him a valuable member of the group, but his impulsive decisions can sometimes lead him into dangerous situations.

Pope Heyward ◇/♡ Chota/Chishiya

the most dangerous of the group, it will literally be a red flag if you upset him and hurt his friends.

rafe felt the wrath of pope and to this day is covered in bandages because hayward burned him

pope has been to some of the most horrific games. his biggest turnoff would be the "beauty contest" where losing players had sulfuric acid poured on them.

◇ pope will have the most emotional challenges in the borderland, struggling with the loss of friends and family. it's very difficult to define his character, so he is both chota and chishiya. his logical mind will help him deal with the games, but he will struggle with the psychological aspect of the situation. he will have moments of doubt and depression, but his love and loyalty to his friends will keep him going. he will work with others to try and find a way out of the borderland and back to the real world. ♡

Kiara Carrera ♡ Saori

she almost died from a laser when she protested the games, but she was lucky

she will be negative towards newcomers in the group, especially sarah and cleo, and will try to get rid of them.

desperation got the better of kiara every time, and she unknowingly manipulated her own friends and family, turning everyone against each other and driving herself into a dead end

kiara was angry at everything in this world. at her friends and family, at sarah, at these games and even more at herself.. she thought that she did not deserve it and without noticing it resorted to manipulation

from extreme despair and stress, she died in a game of trust. she set everyone against each other, and it turned against her

♡ kiara's transformation into saori will be a reflection of her own despair and desperation in the borderland. her attempts to manipulate her friends and family will lead to a situation where everyone turns against each other, further increasing the sense of hopelessness and isolation. despite her best efforts, kiara's actions will lead to sad and tragic outcomes, both for herself and those around her.

Cleo Anderson ♧ Kuina

the most experienced, fearless and ready for anything. she is very trained to survive and it was as if every day she was waiting for something to happen

the pogues met cleo on the "beach" and she immediately fought them and stabbed them from behind when they least expected it. but after.. she joined them and became part of the group

cleo has the greatest desire to live, when she met the pouges she made real friends for whom she is ready to give her life. she found love.. pope.

♧ fighting skills, strong will to live, experience to survive makes her similar to kuina. she also changes and chooses the best side for herself by making the right decision. she finds friends and a new meaning of life, ready to give her life for it

Sarah Cameron ♧ Usagi

will have a lot of problems with her family and rafe, she will meet the pogues on the beach and will become attached to john b and after the house on the beach she will become part of their group

always ready to protect and help, she is literally the heart of their group and always keeps the group united and strong

sarah often encounters her brother who went crazy when he was engulfed in fire, she felt sorry for her brother and at every skirmish she tried to bring him to his senses

♧ sarah will likely struggle with feelings of helplessness and hopelessness like usagi. she will be emotionally vulnerable throughout the borderland experience, but her loyalty and resilience will help her push onward. she will stick with john b through thick and thin, and their relationship will be a source of strength for both of them. despite her struggles, sarah will ultimately find the strength to keep going, driven by her love for john b.

Rafe Cameron ◇ Niragi

will always be high on almost all games, he does this to forget about panic.

teamed up with barry and he sometimes tries to talk rafe down from doing so much cocaine. he also still holds a grudge against him for not giving him his money back

was furious after pope roasted him and he and his friends destroyed the entire beach. rafe is always trying to find pope and get revenge on him

◇ rafe is likely to act similarly to niragi, as his selfishness and cruelty are likely to come out in the borderland. he will be confrontational and aggressive, and will prioritize his own survival over the safety of others. rafe is unlikely to feel much empathy for his fellow players, and will view them as opponents rather than allies. his actions and behavior will likely be selfish and ruthless, with little regard for the wellbeing of others.

Ward Cameron ♡ Hatter

the main antagonist at the location "beach"

"the beach" is his own house where he gathered all the people he could gather, he did this not out of sympathy for them but to gather for himself and his family essentially slaves. he pretends to be kind to them, but of course he also does this to get out of the mud and make people trust him

in the final battle at this location, he will kill john b's father right in front of him because of the "betrayal" ward will be very sorry for what he did.

will die at the hands of john b himself and all the people will watch all this and will understand that: "ward cameron has not changed at all"

he did everything for his family and died.

♡ ward is a wealthy and greedy man who values material possessions above all else. he is willing to use any means necessary to achieve his goals, including manipulation and deception. this is similar to the hatter, who is also a wealthy and manipulative character. both ward and the hatter are willing to go to any lengths to get what they want, even if it means harming others.

Big John B ◇ Aguni

secret second head of the "beach"

tried to get out of ward's house all the time but it was very difficult for him. ward kept him close to him all the time and hid him from other people all the time

as a result, he will reveal himself in the finale right in front of everyone and his son, he will tell that eard attacked him but he miraculously survived. he will also tell about that very gold. but, in the end, he will die at the hands of ward himself right in front of his son's eyes.

◇ big john b and aguni share some similarities in terms of their personalities and roles in the story. both characters are tough, experienced, and have a sense of loyalty and duty. they are also both highly skilled and capable. however, they differ in their motivations and actions, as big john b is motivated by the protection of his loved ones and the search for the truth, while aguni is motivated by vengeance and survival.

the main question... who is the queen of hearts? ♡

[yourfriendlyfanperson]

A Chemical Reaction Called Love

Chapter 3: A Boring Life

~Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!reader

~Summary: Being the daughter of Hawkins Middle School Science teacher, Scott Clarke, has its perks. Constantly having to explain things to 'King' Steve Harrington wasn't necessarily one of them but it was something you had gotten used to. He might not be the brightest guy but at least he tried, and you appreciated that. You had big plans for the future, but they might be forced to change thanks to a phone call...

~Warnings: Sensitive topics might be brought up so reader discretion is advised.

~Word Count: 3.4k

~Authors Note: Hey everyone! Here's chapter three! Thanks so much for the love on the previous chapters! I'm still getting used to how posting fanfics on tumblr works so I appreciate all the likes and reposts! If you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter let me know! Once again you can find me on Ao3 as Lilpipsqueak and W-tpadd as friendlyfanperson!

Does anyone know how I can make the previous chapter numbers appear and be linked to this? I've been trying to figure it out lol

~Narrator's POV~

Y/n walks inside the middle school going to her dad's room, the place is very quiet, which is the opposite of what the school is usually like, there is a very uncomfortable atmosphere around but it's to be expected, after all, one of the students was announced dead, it's not something that ever happens or people think will happen.

"Hi dad," She says standing at the door.

"Hey honey, thanks for coming to help the kids by talking about losing someone," He tells her walking out of the room.

"No worries, how are the boys doing?" She asks him, walking next to him.

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen them today, they must be having a rough time though, I can't even imagine"

Y/n doesn't even want to imagine how they must be feeling, they're only twelve years old and have already lost their best friend to some terrible accident, no kid should go through what they're going through, but the circumstances can't be changed, unfortunately, and all they can do is be there for the boys so things are easier for them, comfort them in any way possible, and make sure that Will's memory lives on.

"Attention students, there will be an assembly to honour Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period"

The principal announced from the speakers, when it all goes quiet again they can hear voices coming from somewhere near and just as they turn to the right they see the three boys with a girl standing in the corridors.

"Boys?" Scott says as they turn to look at him.

"Hey," Lucas says, trying not to seem suspicious.

"The assembly is about to start" Y/n adds.

"We know," Mike tells her, "We're just, you know"

"Upset," Lucas explains with a smile before looking down sad.

"Yeah, yeah, definitely upset" Dustin repeats.

"We need some alone time," Mike says.

"To cry" Dustin adds.

Y/n looks at them confused, noticing they are acting stranger than usual.

"Yeah, listen, I get it, I do" Mr Clarke begins telling them, "I know how hard this is, but let's just be there for Will, huh? And then" he gets his keys out from his pocket and tosses them to Mike, "The Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day, what do you say?" he asks them.

The boys look at him with a smile nodding, happy with the idea.

"I haven't seen you around here before, is she new? What's your name?" Y/n asks the blonde girl standing next to Mike.

"Elev-" The girl begins to say before she's interrupted by Mike, Lucas and Dustin.

"Eleanor, she's my-"

"Cousin!"

"Second cousin"

"She's here for Will's funeral" Mike adds.

Y/n stands there trying to figure out whether the three boys expected her to really believe the obvious lie they just told her, and by the look of it they were sure she was going to believe it.

"Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor, I wish you were here under better circumstances," Her dad tells the girl.

"Thank you" She softly says.

"Uh, where are you from exactly?" Y/n asks her.

The eyes of the three boys widen as they turn to look at Elenor who shakes her head.

"Bad place-"

"Sweden!" Dustin shouts. "I have a lot of Swedish family" Mike adds. "She hates it there" Dustin mentions. "Cold" Lucas says. "Subzero"

Everything feels very awkward after that, Y/n and Scott look at each other, confusion visible on their face, but they decide to just move past the conversation.

"Shall we?" Her dad says looking at the kids.

"Yep," Lucas says as they all walk towards the sports hall.

Dustin opens the door to the room interrupting the principal and drawing everyone's attention to the five of them.

"Great" Y/n mumbles.

Dustin turns around trying to leave but is pushed back inside by Lucas.

Lucas, Mike, Dustin and Eleanor take a seat on the benches while Y/n and Scott sit on the chairs behind the principal.

"We have Y/n Clarke from Hawkins High to talk to you guys a bit about how it feels to lose someone, Y/n," The principal says turning to look back at her.

She stands up taking a deep breath, public speaking it's not fun, especially having to talk to a bunch of clearly bored and annoying pre-teenagers. Y/n smiles at the principal walking next to him and moving to look at the kids, most of them looked like they couldn't wait for this to be over, some were mildly interested or at least respected the situation, a very small group was actually upset, and then in the crowd, she saw two boys laughing, she noticed that Mike and Lucas saw them too, and man does she hate bullies.

"Can you two at the back be quiet?" She shouts glaring at the two boys, they look back at her embarrassed and annoyed but stop talking, "Thank you"

Now I could share with you the sad story that Y/n is telling the kids, but in reality, the anecdote isn't actually that sad, she doesn't even remember her mother at all, she died when Y/n was only two-years-old in a car accident, but stretching the truth for the kids to stop being little assholes wouldn't hurt at the end of the day. So she put on her best sad face and took ten minutes of the kid's day to share the story.

"So let's keep Will's memory alive, and show some respect," She says finishing her speech. The bell goes off and the kids start leaving the room, Y/n walks over to her dad, "You okay?"

"Yeah I'm okay honey" In comparison to her Scott obviously remembers her mother a lot, and he gets very sentimental whenever someone talks about her, it's a sensitive topic.

"Do you want me to go talk to the kids?" She asks him.

"No don't worry, I'll talk to them you should go back to class," He tells her with a smile, she smiles back at him and waves goodbye as she walks out of the gym.

Y/n walks back to the High School and gets on with her usual day. Nothing interesting really happens after, she just attends her lessons, has lunch with Robin, and then meets once again with her dad so they can go home. Her life really is pretty boring when she thinks about it, always the same cycle over and over, it would be nice to do something new for a change.

~~~~~~~~

The next day school was cancelled since it was Will's funeral.

Y/n woke up at 8:00 am to get ready, the funeral was scheduled to start at 11:00 am and would probably last about two hours, after that most people would attend the wake which would last about an hour or so, which meant Y/n would have enough time to go back home, get changed and then walk to her shift which starts at three thirty.

She changed into the outfit she had planned for the funeral, lucky for her she already had black clothes which meant she didn't need to buy new ones for this day, it wouldn't have been fun to buy clothes for a funeral.

All she could think about while getting ready was the fact she was attending Will's funeral, it really was happening, he was actually dead, it wasn't just a bad nightmare she had anymore, it was a reality. No one ever wants to attend the funeral of someone younger than them, they're supposed to live longer than you after all, so when that doesn't happen it's just so  heartbreaking.

"Are you ready to go honey?" Scott asks her as he knocks on her door.

"Yeah, let's go," she says walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.

The drive to the funeral was completely quiet, neither Y/n nor her dad had the strength or energy to try and initiate a conversation, there wasn't much to talk about anyway, so really it was for the best.

When they arrived he parked his car at the car park next to the church, they both got out and walked towards Joyce and Jonathan who were standing in front of the soon-to-be grave. Y/n went up to Jonathan and gave him a big hug, she hadn't seen him since Will went missing, and she wanted to ask him how he was feeling but she guessed that was the last thing he needed to be asked today, so instead she just gave him a soft smile as she moved away from the hug and turned to look at Joyce.

She doesn't say anything, she looks so confused to be there like it isn't right.

Y/n wanted to say so much to Joyce, she wanted to tell her how sorry she was for what had happened, how she couldn't believe it was Will out of all the people it could've been, how he was such a fantastic kid he didn't deserve this, but she couldn't tell her that, not at this time anyway, "We'll be here if you need anything" was all she said, with a soft smile.

She turns to look at the kids, she expected them to be already crying their eyes out or something along those lines, but instead, they seemed normal, they didn't look upset or sad, and they didn't even look like they were hiding their feelings, which Y/n would've definitely found weird if it wasn't for the fact that the moment she saw the boys she just wanted to breakdown into tears and hug them.

"How are you guys doing?" She asked them walking over to the boys.

"We're okay," Dustin tells her looking over at Lucas and Mike.

"You guys know it's okay to cry, right?" She tells them.

"Yeah, we know," Dustin says looking at Lucas and Mike, the three of them nodding.

"Good, I'm here if you need to talk" She adds and they smile at her.

More and more people start arriving, but instead of people talking more everything goes completely quiet, and eventually, the funeral begins.

All Y/n is able to do is look down during the entire speech, she barely has the strength to look at Will's casket, it's so small, and caskets shouldn't be that small. In the end, everyone throws some flowers inside the hole before they close it.

Everyone then heads to the wake, there are tables and food organised in the place, and most people are talking, probably about something not even remotely related to Will, Lonnie is speaking to Mr and Mrs Wheeler, meanwhile, Joyce is sitting by herself, on the other side of the room Y/n and Scott are getting some food from the lunch table, when Mike, Lucas and Dustin walk up to them.

"Mr Clarke," Mike says, Scott and Y/n turn around to look at the boys.

"Oh, hey there, how are you boys holding up?" He asks them.

"We're...in...mourning" Lucas answers.

"Man, these aren't real Nilla Wafers" Dustin mumbles, Mike and Lucas turn to look at him as if he just said something irrelevant, which he did but kids usually do that.

"We were wondering if you had time to talk?" "We have some questions" "A lot of questions," Mike and Lucas say.

"What do you want to know?"

Mr Clarke, Y/n and the three boys take a seat on one of the tables and begin to ask the questions, they ask about alternate dimensions but not an alternate dimension where Will's death never happened but more about an evil alternate dimension, like the Vale of Shadows, and then they ask how one would travel there, theoretically of course. Scott explains things to the boys in the simplest way possible which is by comparing things to a flea and an acrobat, explaining how there are places an acrobat, which in this case is them, can only explore so much, meanwhile, a flea will be able to reach places they can't. The boys ask if there's a way the acrobat could reach the upside down, and he explains that it only would be possible by creating an insane amount of energy one bigger than humans can currently make which could open up a gate to reach the upside down.

"Science is neat, but not very forgiving" Scott adds as he finishes explaining things to the boys.

"You guys always have the weirdest questions you know," Y/n says chuckling as she looks at the three boys, she had this feeling that they were hiding something, that there was something going on with them, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

"We're just... very curious," Dustin tells her looking at the other two who nod at this comment.

"Well make sure that curiosity doesn't kill you," She says with a smile standing up, "I should probably start saying goodbye to everyone dad, I need to leave soon so I can get ready for work"

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home?" He asks her.

"It's okay, I know you want to stay here longer talking with the boys and everyone else, and I have my skates anyway so it won't take me long to get home" She explains to him.

He sighs smiling at her knowing that he does, in fact, want to stay longer and that either way he won't be able to change her mind, "Be careful" he says.

"I will, love you dad, bye kids, you can call me at home if you need anything okay?"

"Okay"

~~~~~~~

After working for five hours Y/n was finally able to say goodbye to her last customer, she turned on the radio and listened to 'Old Time Rock & Roll' while she cleaned the cafe, dancing along to the song and singing the lyrics as she organised everything and made sure it was nice and clean. When she finally finished she turned off the light and walked out of the cafe closing it and locking it, she put on her skates and started skating over to her house.

She was glad she didn't take today off work because it actually helped her get her mind off everything that had happened lately, the cafe has always been a comfort place of hers so it made her feel better.

Normally she didn't mind going home after work alone, Hawkins had always been a very safe place, and she always carried some bleach in a bottle in her bag just in case, but after Barb's disappearance, the thought of walking alone at night was not so fun. So she decided to skate as fast as she could so she could get home soon, unfortunately, Y/n had her sleeves rolled up and forgot the fact it was a cold night in November and the ground would be frozen, so when she tripped on an uneven step she didn't just stop herself like she usually did but instead fell forwards on the rocky ground scraping her arms.

"Fuck" she says pushing herself up and carefully standing again, she looks down at her arms to see that they're bleeding, great, "Why is blood so dramatic?" she asks herself rolling her sleeves down, not even trying to stop the blood knowing it will be a waste of time anyway.

She continues skating to her home, and slowly this feeling that she's being followed starts growing in her stomach, she turns around to look behind her but sees nothing, she shakes her head, telling herself that she's tired and anxious so it's just her mind making her paranoid, she continues skating but the feeling doesn't go, if anything it just gets worst, she keeps looking around hoping it will make her feel better but instead she sees a weird shadow inside the woods, a tall, dark figure with a strange head; she picks up her pace trying to go as fast as she can while being careful so that she won't fall again, she looks back at the woods to see the figure closer than it was before, she doesn't care if she falls again she starts skating as fast as she possibly can, her eyes not moving away from the tall shadow that was getting closer, scared that she might end up like Barbara, missing and possibly dead.

Meanwhile, Steve Harrington was driving his car down the road she was about to walk across, he had just dropped Tommy and Carol at their house after going to check on Nancy, and it hadn't gone well, he saw her with Jonathan and was convinced that she was cheating on him with Jonathan.

Y/n was freaking out so much she didn't realise when the car stopped right in front of her until she is stopped by the car crashing against the side door, she looks inside the car to see none other than Steve he looks at her confused noticing she had in fact just hit her head against his car, he rolled down his window as she looks back seeing the tall, shadow creature leaving the woods and making its way towards her.

"Hey Einstein, are you okay?" Steve asks checking on her.

Y/n doesn't even take a second to think, her survival instincts and panic took over her brain, and all she does is open the passenger's door getting inside the car.

"Go!" she shouts at him, his eyebrows knit together as he looks at her puzzled.

"What?"

"Steve just go! Go! Go!" she shouts at him.

Steve lets go of the brake pedal and push's down at the accelerator as he turns to the left and drives away as fast as possible, Y/n turns back as she watches the dark creature fade away into the dark disappearing from her view. Neither of them says anything during the drive, Y/n didn't even know where Steve was taking her until he parks in front of a house.

"What the hell just happened?" he asks turning to look at her confused and worried.

"Someone or something was following me, I was trying to get away from it and then I bumped into you and I didn't know what else to do, I got scared I was going to end up going missing or kidnapped or something like that, I'm sorry I didn't mean to get into your car like that" she explains apologising once she takes in the incredibly bizarre situation.

"It's okay, I mean we wouldn't want you to go missing" she nods at him, "Is your arm okay?" he asks, looking down at her arm worried, Y/n turns to look at him confused.

"What?"

"Your jacket has blood around your arm" he points out.

"Oh, it's nothing I just scraped my arms when I fell," she tells him rolling her sleeves up.

"That doesn't look like nothing" he adds.

"It's fine I'll just disinfect it when I get home"

"You could just disinfect it here, we have saline solution," he says turning off the car and looking at her.

"Won't your parents mind?" she asks him, not wanting to bother anyone.

"They're probably already asleep, they won't even notice I just got home, we can quickly disinfect your arms and then I can drive you home" he suggests to her.

"Oh no it's okay I don't want to keep you up for longer"

"It's fine really, I was probably going to stay awake for a while anyway," he says smiling at her as he opens the door and gets out of the car, walking towards the passenger's door.

"Thanks," Y/n says getting out of the car and closing the door, "Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't bumped into you"

"Well, I do owe you big time, this is one of the thirty I guess" he chuckles locking his car and walking to the front door.

"You still got a long way to go," she smiles at him.

"Yeah well let's hope the next one is me passing my chemistry test without your help," he tells her with a smile opening the door.

Y/n laughs at him as she walks inside, "Then you've got a lot of studying to do"

Thank you for reading! Any likes and reblogs are very appreciated!