#and she hasn't the “ghost limbs”

[hesperidia]

WAIT KID MELINOE HAS A POM BLOSSOM WITH HER THATS SUCH A NICE DESIGN DETAIL

[radiance1]

[That one au but mixed with my Teddy Bear au where Danny got his accident at like 5-10 but because he was with his Teddy Bear on hand he kinda turned into that Teddy Bear basically.

A mix up of these two specifically where he's Ghost King and Pariah took it upon himself to be his kinda Mentor.]

So Pariah and Trigon meet each other at some point, with Trigon half-heartedly insulting him because he lost his status as king, but Pariah willingly gave it up so he literally could not give more than 0 shits.

So then they Pariah decided that his successor-to-be should get to know Trigon's daughter, and Trigon was like: Are you sure? Because she would probably infect them with that 'Morally good' shit.

Pariah waves it off, because his successor-to-be is already morally good and hasn't even enslaved a race or destroyed a planet yet.

Trigon:

Pariah:

Trigon: Are you okay?

Pariah: What do you think.

Trigon pats him on the back awkwardly, because no tyrant should have to go through that.

So then one Teddy Bear Danny, adorned in his star cloak, a misty ice crown with an ever-shifting constellation hovering over it, and a ring around his stubby limb, appeared in the DC universe and told to go and find the daughter of Trigon, who he would hopefully be able to make an alliance within the best-case scenario.

Which Danny is a bit confused about because he doesn't know who Trigon or his daughter is, but he's at least willing to try! Also, he might get side-tracked in exploring here and there.

[shaunamilfman]

the ghost you dressed up as [6]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x r summary: "It's all been leading up to this, hasn't it? Time for you to officially become a part of it all." note: GRAPHIC depictions of violence. masterlist

You finally rise to a crouch at the sound of Mrs. Loomis's voice rising in fright, peeking through the small slats in her hall closet’s door. Hiding out in her home for her wasn't quite as glamorous as you had imagined it being. The sweat clings to your skin, making the black cloak stick to your skin in odd places. The mask sits awkwardly on your face, leaving you struggling to find a position for it to sit in which you can both see and breathe through it.

Your limbs ache from the position you'd taken, the cramped quarters causing you to contort awkwardly to fit inside. The small wire shelves had been pressing into your skin for what felt like hours, leaving uncomfortable indents in your skin.

No part of you could see Shauna being patient enough to lay in waiting like this, and certainly not Jackie, but maybe that was what you were for. Maybe the concept of waiting in the house was as new to you as it was to her. Maybe that could be what you brought to the table–a patience neither of them could stomach.

Shauna and Jackie had insisted that someone needed to wait inside the house, claiming that they'd never tried taking on someone so much older than themselves. Mrs. Loomis was no teenager, not like the rest of their victims. A fully grown adult with authority of her own who loathed to give it up. Jackie claims she would have to choose her words carefully to instill that feeling of being prey upon her, to ensure she would be too frightened to act logically.

But you knew how easily Mrs. Loomis folded from the will of teenagers. How long had she sat there and done nothing while your peers pointed their fingers at you? She was a coward at heart.

You suspected, however, that it mostly just served to prevent you from chickening out last second. Where would you go, after all? You were already inside, already lying in wait.

Mrs. Loomis anxiously walks across the living room to look through the blinds, foolishly ensuring herself that there was no one actually there as long as she couldn't see them. As if they wouldn't be hiding from her, probably just below that very window. Shauna took pleasure in that, knowing that she could get caught if her victims were only just a little smarter. There was something about watching that misplaced sense of security turn into horror that appealed to her. It was a validation, in a way, ensuring herself that she was as smart as she believed she was.

It wasn't enough to just win, just to kill them–no, the way she won mattered just as much. More, even. She needed them to realize that they never stood a chance, not once she and Jackie decided to kill them. Shauna lived for the reveal more than anything, when they realized they weren't just running from her. There had been two of them all along, and they hadn't even noticed, even with the almost supernatural prowess it would've taken for just one person to get around that quickly.

At least, that's how it sounded when Jackie described it to you. You've never seen her in action, not really. You'd seen her kill Tatum, but there was no real action in that. No flourish beyond just getting the job done. They hadn't had time to really think it through, having felt pressured to move up the timeline the moment you announced your date. There was no hunt in that.

You can almost imagine it: that wide-eyed, almost manic grin hidden beneath Shauna's mask. You know Shauna loves this–the waiting, the hunt. 

Or that almost bored smirk beneath Jackie as she weaves her words of terror down the phone line. She never rushes, never feeling the need to. Each word is carefully chosen to maximize the terror she’s causing. So often she spoke without meaning to, revealing things that she never wanted to, but not like this. Never when she’s like this. You know she must be succeeding with the way Mrs. Loomis's voice starts to shake. You swear you can almost hear her heart pounding in her chest.

Good, you think, remembering that condescending look on her face. ‘Hanging off of them’ indeed.

She lets the blinds fall back into place with a shaky sigh, trying to convince herself of a safety she no longer believes in. There’s something so pleasing in seeing her be the one out of control for once, watching her squirm beneath the weight of her own feelings. You can see it in the way her hands shake, the way each breath comes out just a little too sharp–she’s afraid.

You could step in, could call it off somehow. You knew they would let you, even if you’d be hearing about it. 

But you don’t. 

Just like she didn’t.

“Listen,” She says suddenly, her voice cracking but finally loud enough for you to make out the individual words. “I-I don’t know who you are, but you need to stop this. Right now! This isn’t funny.” She’s growing more and more frantic, even as she tries to maintain some sort of control over the conversation. It’s almost pathetic to watch her flounder like this. Riding the edge of begging and demanding.

She’s crying in earnest now, screaming as a window shatters on the other side of the house. You grip the knife in your hand tighter, readying yourself for the inevitable. The weight of it feels grounding, the smooth handle warming beneath the heat of your palm. It was probably Shauna, growing somewhat tired of the game. Mrs. Loomis thought it was a joke? Shauna would show her it wasn’t.

“You’re sick,” She sobs. “You’re insane. Why are you doing this?”

The back door slams against the wall, reminding her she forgot to lock it in her haste. You can just barely see the horrified realization on her face: that she may die from her own complacency. Who would leave a door unlocked when there was a serial killer on the prowl in her own town? Someone who was confident in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be a victim. Now, faced with an open door, that confidence crumbles.

She runs toward it to close it before someone else can get it, giving you the chance to silently slip out of the closet. You watch her as you back up, making your way up to the stairs just like the three of you had discussed. The stairs creak softly beneath your weight, a sound that would be a dead giveaway in the usual silence that blanketed her home. But now, under the weight of her panic and the deadly voice whispering in her ear? She stood no chance of hearing it.

They would chase her up to you, and you would take her by surprise. It sounded so easy when they discussed it. All you had to do was kill her. They would bring her right to you. She would bolt up the stairs for her only chance, and when she reached the top? There you would be.

Mrs. Loomis, frantic, panting, scared out of her mind, would stumble right into your path. Just bring the knife down. The weight of it presses heavier on top of you now that it’s no longer just an idea. The knife feels more solid now, each step taking you closer to the inevitable.

It’s real, and you have to be ready.

You hear a slam downstairs, and the sound of glass shattering. When you don't hear the immediate sound of screaming, you wince–knowing either Shauna or Jackie is going to be insufferable about getting injured. 

Jackie, over the top and prone to dramatics, will milk it for all it's worth. The most shallow cut will end up being the talk of the evening just so she can make you and Shauna kiss it better. You can already imagine it, eyes wide and pitiful, as they draw you in and force you to indulge her. You’ll have to act concerned, play your part, or else you’ll end up with the cold shoulder.

It's Shauna that worries you more. That girl would try to hide a stab wound out of embarrassment if she thought she could get away with it. She could be as pale as a ghost from the blood loss and would stick her nose in the air and shake her head at the slightest hint of concern on your face. 

Either way, it's going to be a long night. 

You peer through a gap in the railing as Mrs. Loomis runs for the front door, glancing over her shoulder at whoever is behind her. She runs straight into it, frantically fumbling with the lock long enough that either of them could have killed her three times over if they hadn't been saving her for you. The thought is terribly charming: a gift, just for you. Predictably, there's already a black-robed figure waiting for her when she opens the door, a knife glinting threateningly in the light. 

She's almost frozen for a moment in horror, screaming as she comes face to face with the soulless mask that has haunted the town. Mrs. Loomis backs away as quickly as she can, nearly wiping out on the corner of the rug. Whirling around, she finds that whoever was behind her was no longer there. You catch sight of one of them looking up at you before kneeling behind a counter to hide from view. 

Backdoor, out. 

Frontdoor, out. 

Eventually she turns to the only option left: the footsteps sound frantically up the stairs toward you. You ready the knife in your hand, lunging out at her the moment she reaches the top step. She slams against the wall under the force of your body, but you don't quite manage to get the knife in before she manages to shove you off. You manage to slash her side, the blood dripping down your gloved hand matching the growing stain on her shirt. 

She breathes hard, her chest rapidly rising and falling under the sheer adrenaline she must be feeling. Her eyes are wide with terror, and something much worse: hope. She thinks she has a chance. Clearly she's realized you're the weakest link here. How embarrassing. 

That alone is enough to prepare you to try again. The thought of Jackie trying to comfort you with a patronizing smile as she tells you that everyone makes mistakes is almost unbearable. You’d rather die trying than let Shauna come in to clean up your mess for you. The look on Shauna’s face, silent and disappointed, would stay in your mind far longer than any injury could.

Her hand presses to her side in some frantic attempt to stop the bleeding, blood running out from between her fingers and dripping to the floor. You lunge again, immediately taking advantage of that moment of weakness. She’s not thinking about anything but staying alive, which unfortunately will be her downfall. 

Mrs. Loomis screams, trying to claw at your arm with her free hand, but it’s not enough to stop you from sinking the blade into her torso with a sickening sound. The flesh gives way easier than you imagined it would, sinking to the hilt almost like it was nothing. It was the adrenaline, it had to be, but you’re almost sickened by how easy it felt to kill someone. Shauna had told you it was her sharpest knife, offering it up like a gift. You understand why now.

She jerks in your grasp, letting out a shrill, blood-curdling scream that has you suddenly worried about how close the nearest house was. The worry was pointless–the three of you had scoped out her daily routine and found the best place to kill her–but the fear makes your hand shake as you rip the knife back out. The sound she lets out is almost a gasp, but just not quite. As if she couldn’t fully force the sound out. The hand clawing at your arm weakens with the blood loss, but not enough that she couldn’t manage one last swing at you as she pushes off the wall with enough force to take the both of you down to the ground.

Mrs. Loomis lands on top of you, taking your breath away as your back hits the wooden flooring. You can faintly hear frantic footsteps running toward the stairs as your ears ring, but you're not done yet. She swings wildly at you, trying to hit any part of you she can reach. Still, the wounds made her weak enough that you’re able to buck her off of you. You follow her back, hands wrapping around her throat as you frantically look around for the knife. It had clattered to the ground with your fall, and you can just barely make out the hilt from where it’s fallen beneath a nearby table.

Not close enough for you to reach. 

Her whole body thrashes beneath you, scratching and hitting at anything she can reach. Thankfully, most of your skin is covered one way or another. It seems the stupid costumes Shauna insisted on had at least one use. She gasps and chokes with a sound so horrible you can barely manage to look at her as you close your hand tighter and tighter around her throat. The blood from your gloves smears across her neck, making the whole scene look gorier, as if what you did already wasn’t enough.

A hand comes up weakly to your face, the fight draining out of her along with her last vestiges of air as she pulls at the mask. You tilt your head just slightly, enough that you’re not entirely sure whether it was purposeful or not. Was it some semblance of guilt that possessed you to do it, to let her know who her attacker was? Or maybe it was just arrogance. Wanting her to know that you were the one who sunk that knife into her chest, that you were the one that choked the life out of her.

Her eyes widen with a sick recognition as she pulls it over your head, the mask clutched tightly in weakening fingers as the fight in her fades completely. Mrs. Loomis’s hand weakly hits the floor, the mask cluttering to the ground next to her as she looks up at you with unseeing eyes. Her chest is finally still, a calmness so utterly different than just 15 seconds ago. How quickly a person ceases to be. You let go of her throat hesitantly, watching her closely to make sure she doesn’t move as you stretch across her body to reach the knife.

Gloved fingers close around the hilt, sending a jolt of surprise through you as a masked face suddenly appears in front of you. The crouching figure flips the knife around in her hand, holding the hilt out for you to grab. You take it from her slowly, wondering just how long she has been standing at the top of the stairs watching you. She tilts her head to the side in consideration, shuffling forward to snatch the mask off the ground and slowly put it back over your head.

Shauna, then.

“Thanks,” You say softly, glancing down again at the body underneath you. You raise the knife, sinking it into Mrs. Loomis’s torso. Again, and again, until Shauna finally pulls you away from her. 

There’s an undeniable excitement to her as she pulls you down the stairs, taking them two at a time in her haste to get out of the house with you. Jackie joins you the second your feet make contact with the first floor, following behind you as you race out of the house and toward Shauna’s car.

You sit in the backseat with Jackie, eyes wide with the shock of the whole night, as you stare out the window and into the distance as Shauna drives. Gentle fingers make their way up your shoulder, carefully cataloging her movements as if not to scare you. When they start pulling your mask off your head, you don’t stop them, even if some part of you desperately wanted the sense of anonymity the mask provided you.

“See?” Jackie asks quietly, fingers carding through your hair as she leans over to press a kiss against your cheek. “It wasn’t that hard. You’re a natural.”

You weren’t sure if murder was something you wanted to be a natural at, but you knew that wasn’t quite true either. Jackie had stayed outside in order to catch Mrs. Loomis if she made it out the door. She hadn’t seen the way she managed to get the drop on you. You catch Shauna’s eyes in the rearview mirror, her mask sitting almost innocently on the passenger's seat next to her knife. There wasn’t a drop of blood on either–none that she hadn’t gotten from touching you, at least. She shakes her head in answer to your unspoken question.

Shauna wouldn’t tell her, and neither would you.

“Yeah,” You say. “A natural.”

…

You stare at the small memorial, flowers and notes strewn chaotically outside of her classroom door, with an expression you can't quite name. It isn't guilt–you hadn't, for a second, felt bad about it. It isn't regret or sorrow, not when you knew it had to happen. But, strangely, it also wasn't happiness. There's no thrill to it, not like there was that night. She's dead, and you're not. 

That's all there is to it. 

You thought–in the small moments you allowed yourself to consider it–that you would have stronger feelings looking at the impact of what you did. Even last night, watching her grieving parents on the news calling for the police to finally stop this monster, you hadn't felt like you thought you should. Their voices had cracked under the weight of their sorrow, choked sobs forced from throats that couldn't hold them back any longer.

It just didn't seem like something that was happening to you. You watched along with the same detachment you'd watched every new murder announcement, slightly intrigued but mostly just bored. You'd taken something from these people, who obviously cared about her to some extent. 

You erased her. 

You were the reason this meager display even existed. It had already been defaced by someone writing “bitch” across the door in big blocky letters–the janitors had tried to get it off, but you could still just barely make out the ink still lingering. Even in death, she couldn't escape her reputation. 

It pleased you, at least somewhat, to know that she hadn't singled you out. Mrs. Loomis was awful enough that others can't bring themselves to forgive her even after her brutal death. This whole attempt at a memorial, and all it took was a marker to reduce her down to a single word. 

You remembered how it felt to stab her, and how it felt to watch her blood drop down your fingers. More than anything, you remember how it felt to hold her life in your hands and then to take it.

Maybe that was it. Maybe you were waiting to feel like that again. 

You hadn't expected the way her glassy eyes stared back at you. How they seemed to blame you. That look of surprise on her face when she finally pulled your mask off had played over and over again in your head as you ran back to the car, but it hadn't bothered you since. 

Not after Jackie pulled your mask off in the backseat of Shauna's car, after she dragged her knife across your skin just enough to draw blood. Just enough to scratch their initials–Shauna's, and then hers–into your skin. Jackie had leaned in to press a kiss just above it, gloved fingers wiping your blood from her blade with a flourish. Shauna had been watching from the driver's seat, a gleam of approval beneath her barely hidden jealousy. 

You were theirs now–it was official. How could you regret something that gave you them? If Mrs. Loomis was the price of admission, you'd gladly pay it a thousand more times. She had been a means to an end, and you had gotten it. They would've let you stay even if you hadn't done it, but your relationship would've been different, marked by your reluctance to fully join them. Your skin still burns beneath your shirt, the fabric rubbing against the carefully bandaged wound despite Shauna's best efforts to cover it. 

You step down the hallway with none of the drama you had been expecting, hurrying out the door to meet Jackie and Shauna by Shauna's car. 

“Hey,” You hear a voice call out, just as you push the front doors open. Reluctantly, you turn to face him, taking in the sight of Jeff Sadecki with visible surprise. You hadn't been expecting a meeting with Jackie's ex-boyfriend today. He looks awkward, shifting back and forth from foot to foot, as if unsure how to approach you.

You knew the official reason they had broken up: he had been cheating on Jackie with some blonde girl you wouldn't recognize in a lineup. But you'd quickly learned that he'd only ever been used to please Jackie's parents, who hadn't much noticed the way Jackie barely gave him the time of day when they weren't directly watching. Jackie insisted that it didn't matter that he had cheated on her–her heart just wasn't in it anyway–but you and Shauna wore matching glares whenever his name came up. 

“I just wanted to ask if you were okay after…” Jeff trails off, leaving her name unspoken. You can see his hesitation, clearly unsure if one of Jackie’s friends will appreciate him approaching her. There’s something else, though: a genuine concern that disgusts you a little.

You give him a curious look, shifting your bag nonchalantly on your shoulder. “Why wouldn't I be?”

He gives you a sympathetic look, hands buried in his pockets as he rocks on his heels. “It's just… I saw that she pulled you aside after class. It just must be freaky, is all. Hell, you were probably the last one to see her alive.” He pauses before adding, “Besides the dude who gutted her, obviously.”

Anyone else in his position would have lobbied that as a threat, and you're still half expecting him to as your stomach drops at the words. But no. Stupid Jeff Sadecki, so laughably earnest. The more you watch him, the more you become certain that your secret is safe. At least for now. 

Why would he tell anyone? He doesn't think it means anything. 

“I'm okay, really. Thanks,” You say quietly, shooting him a smile that he quickly returns with a dumb little nod he probably believes is charming. He’s probably already patting himself on the back for whatever noble thing he thinks he’s accomplished by pulling you aside after class. 

… 

“What is it, Mari?” You ask finally, getting irritated about the way she’s been skirting around you all practice. Mari’s been following just a step behind, close enough that she stepped on the back of your cleats a few times, mouth opening and closing without saying anything–like a fish gasping for air. Clearly something’s on her mind.

“I wanted to… apologize.” She spits out the last word like it personally pains her. You’re sure it does. 

Apologize? Mari?

You can’t imagine what possibly could have made Mari decide that she was going to apologize for that dumb comment she made. You haven't known her to apologize for anything. Not when she got a week of detention for a bitchy comment she’d made to her math teacher, not even when the whole team was mad at her. But then, you see the way Jackie keeps glancing over at the two of you in a way she probably thinks is subtle. You glance away to hide your dumb smile, already convinced she has something to do with Mari’s sudden change of heart.

In all honesty, you could barely even remember what Mari had even said to you at this point. It had barely even registered in the moment, not any longer than it took you to storm off from the table. You hadn’t even thought about it since it happened. But Jackie? Jackie wouldn’t let an insult like that slide.

You can imagine the look at Mari’s face as Jackie pulled her aside in the locker room, Jackie’s sweet smile masking the quiet threat beneath her words. Jackie’s never openly malicious, not in any way that can be tied back to her, but when she looks at you with those slightly narrowed eyes and strained smile, it’s almost more terrifying than if she glared. Your girlfriend uses her charm like a weapon.

“Well?”

Mari huffs, glaring at you as she crosses her arms across her chest. “I’m sorry, or whatever. It wasn’t cool of me to accuse you of killing our teammate, no matter how suspicious you looked.” She adds the last sentence in a bit of a rush, clearly intending to get one last insult in for her trouble.

“Sure, Mari,” You say, rolling your eyes. You weren’t likely to get anything better. “We’re good–”

“Obviously it wasn’t her,” Travis interrupts, causing the both of you to whirl around in surprise to see him leaning against the side of the bleachers. “Only a man could’ve done something like that.”

You almost laugh, both of you walking back toward the locker room as Jackie calls for the end of practice.

“Maybe it was Travis,” Mari muses once you’re out of ear shot, grinning when you snicker under your breath. She’s obviously just trying to lighten the mood, and yet…

“Didn’t he almost fail Mrs. Loomis’s class?” You ask, watching as Mari’s eyes light up at the reminder. She gives him another look, as if sizing him up.

[avionvadion]

side effect from the puppet magic

El: needs a cane to walk

Grim: becomes far sighted

Jack: asthma like symptoms

Vil: skin peeling

Jade and Floyd: Heart problems

Trey: is half deaf

Leona: IS AFRAID TO STAND STILL TOO LONG, AND THEREFORE CANT SLEEP

Why should Elmbe the only one who suffers 😀

Oh gods I could never curse Jack with asthma he doesn’t deserve that 😭😭😭 OCs yes but NOT MY BOY.

That said LEONA HAVING SLEEP PARALYSIS IS SO GOOD. I think Vil being scared of standing still too long would be good too since he’s a MODEL and models probably HAVE to stand still for photo shoots. LEONA HAVING INSOMNIA. THE IRONY. Jack COULD have insomnia too. He’s very particular about going to bed on a certain time. It’ll definitely interfere with his sleep schedule not being able to sleep because of the trauma of staying still.

I think Jade and Floyd should have the skin peeling when in their human forms since they’re Merfolk. Azul is gonna be so confused because since they’re merfolk their skin should be naturally moist (gods I hate that word, thanks high school) and shouldn’t be dry enough to peel at all yet it is.

…I hate drawing glasses, so I’m gonna make Grim deaf in one ear.

I’ll totally give Trey the asthma though. (Sorry, Trey, but the most exercise you usually get is baking, you’ll be fine.) Cater could be the one who ends up far sighted and has to start wearing contacts and/or reading glasses. (He would totally own this? He’d be like my eldest sister, with like five different colorful and differently shapes glasses that he’d change depending on his outfit.)

Hmmmm. Am I missing anyone??? Aside from Ace, Ortho, and Kalim.

AH, LILIA. Maybe like ghost pains kind of? He came SO CLOSE to being fully puppet. Sometimes it feels like his limbs are still wood and he has to jolt his arm or leg to snap himself out of it. His fingers ache where they had once been twigs. Sometimes his legs don’t move the way he wants them to. Other times he’s frozen still and he can’t move his mouth to speak and someone has to snap him out of it. Jade also probably gets this too, along with the skin peeling.

Just… really really creepy ghost pains. The trauma be REAL.

EDIT:

Thinking about it more, and the boys who suffer the most are going to be those who were wood the longest.

I don't remember the exact order of who got caught save for Jade, Lilia, Yuu, and Grim who were the first to get cursed, but those who were wood the longest will most likely share in phantom pains, insomnia, sleep paralysis, an inability to remain still for too long, and/or suffer a more physical aftermath such as potential anxiety-induced asthma as Fellow does imply that turning into a puppet makes it hard to breathe.

All of them will have nightmares. The majority will probably feel cautious/anxious about going near Amusement Parks. Grim will never be able to eat Apple-Core Popcorn or Fried Tuna again because of the bad memories it brings up.

Those who were wood shortest will probably jolt/jerk and rub/scratch at their arms because they just suddenly felt that awful sensation of being transformed out of nowhere only to realize they’re fine. Gidel escapes without out too much trauma since he was cursed just before the Hero Trio and Fellow went out in search of the "Boss" and was therefore the last one to get masked.

Ace, however, despite not being turned into wood, will be having extreme nightmares and guilt and anxiety.

For reasons that will be hinted at in the chapters I'm currently working on and will be fully revealed at the end of Book Two, he'll be blackmailing El into going to the Amusement Park with him- and thus blames himself when she turns into wood.

He already has nightmares from Riddle's Overblot when Eleanora fell into a temporary coma (though it hasn't been really shown that he has nightmares, his fear of her dying and getting hurt badly does make itself known in his protectiveness- which we have seen) but, because of his pettiness, she died. Even if only for a couple minutes, she was gone.

He's going to have severe nightmares about Eleanora dying again and again because of him, and her turning into wood being sold off as a puppet. Ace is going to despise puppets in all their forms, sock, wood, paper- etc.

And every time he sees her walking around with her cane, he's going to remember what happened at Playful Land. Ace, Ortho, and Kalim may have avoided getting cursed in this, and Ortho and Kalim are overall unbothered (Kalim being used to trauma and it just being par to the course, which is in itself its own trauma, and Ortho being a robot who merely just feels bad because if they had listened to Eleanora to begin with, none of this would have happened) but Ace?

Not only will he be blaming himself, but Deuce is going to blame him as well and beat the ever living crap out of him when he discovers Eleanora in another coma and Poma, our sparkly school nurse, pushing his unique magic to the limit trying to heal her.

It's gonna be rough.

[ponyosmom35]

you don't like me, I don't like you

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter two!

Synopsis: Reader is new, she's a medic whom is strictly on base. She is not enlisted in the military. She's there due to her older sisters training for Taskforce 141, her sister made a deal with Laswell, the pair were a packaged deal. Ghost hasn't been taking her arrival well as he feels like she's a waste of space. He is not afraid to let her know for the second time since they've met.

warnings: enemies to lovers, cursing, ghost is scary, reader is stubborn

Link to full Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

After finally finishing the last part of the report Ghost sighs and closes his computer. It was nearly 3 am and he was exhausted. He stands up, stretching his sore limbs slightly, and walks to his door, he shuts the light off and closes it behind him, locking it. In the distance, he could hear banging. He frowns knowing that it was lights out, so nobody should be awake. He notices the light coming from the training center and walks in angrily. He notices the new medic. Younger sister of Sergeant Emma James, one of the finest in the training program. Price had her transferred to his base so he could keep an eye on her, testing to see if she’d be a good fit for 141. He was unsure why Laswell had requested her medic sister be transferred as well. The girl had been nothing but a pain in his ass from the moment she arrived. She didn’t belong there, what use was a medic if she was strictly on base, no military experience.  He scoffs as he notices her incorrect form as she punches the bag over and over, her stance was off and her hands weren’t even taped correctly. He stomps over to her and turns off the music she had playing in the background. She whips around and glares at him angrily. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demands, snatching the speaker from him

“You shouldn’t be out here, its light out”

“I don’t care” 

“Go back to your room, no one is allowed out here”

“Then why are you here?” she questions, staring at him with raised eyebrows 

“The rules don’t apply to me”

“So you’re above it all now?” she asks sarcastically 

“I’m the Lieutenant” he deadpans 

“I don’t really care to be honest” 

“Listen, I don't think you understand. You don't belong here. You're not a solider. You are a medic. So, get back to your rom and stay there. Otherwise, I'm going to have to report you to Captain Price for insubordination. Do I make myself clear?” Ghost warns, his tone incredibly threatening. It takes everything in her not to show her fear.  

“I’m not enlisted in the military”

“Listen, you may work for Laswell, but you're still on a military base, and that makes you subject to military law. Go to your room, or I will order the guards to take you there myself. Understood?”

“what guards Luitentant? looks like it’s just you and me here” she says gesturing to the empty room.

“Don't test me, medic. Just go back to your room, and don't come out until morning. Is that a clear enough order for you?”

“like I said, I don't take orders from you Ghost” she sneers 

“You're making a mistake. Let me spell it out for you, Either you agree to do what I say and when I say it, or I'll call Laswell and have her pull you out of this task force and send you back to the states. Is that clear?”

“First you bitch about my lack of training, now you're bitching at me to go to bed! make up your goddamn mind!”

“So that's your attitude then? Fine, I'll call Laswell right now and explain the situation. There’s an endless amount of army medics who do us good in the field. You’re easy to replace”

“fuck you” she says as she tries to push past him, making sure to hit him with her shoulder

“Listen!” he snaps, grabbing her arm and pull her back towards him, his tone growing more serious as his expression darkens.

“ I've been trying to be patient with you, but that time is over. Now listen up, because I'm going to say this once. You are here because you're part of a team and you're expected to behave like it. And that means doing what I say, no questions asked. Do you understand?”

“If I say yes will you finally shut the fuck up?”

“I wasn't finished speaking, and you will show a little more respect to me and this unit. Now, I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

“yes! I heard you perfectly clear” she responds as she turns her back on him and walks towards the sleeping quarters. 

“Fucking hell” 

-

The next morning Ghost had asked Soap to bring her to his office the next morning. He could not have her behave that way around the others. Disrespect was not permitted here. Someone needed to teach her. It dones’t take long for a knock to appear at his door. 

“Come in” he yells gruffly 

Soap opens the door for her and pats her on the shoulder gently. He sends Ghost a look before shutting it behind him. Ghost motions for her to enter and sit down at the chair across from his desk. “Now that you’ve slept on it, what have you got to say for yourself? I hope you've got a real good excuse for that behavior last night”

“what do you want me to say? want me to tell you I'm on my period or that I'm just that naturally charming?” she says sarcastically, her arms crossed as she sits down. 

“What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to go against direct orders from a superior officer”

“I see that we're going in circles here, so why don't we just cut the shit. you don't like me, I don't like you. For whatever reason you've been out to get me since I got here. Look man I'm just trying to do my job, so if you want me to stop 'defying orders'”  she quotes him sarcastically “then you should just let me do what I came here to”

“You don't get it, do you? It has nothing to do with me not liking you or some personal vendetta that you think I have against you. The fact of the matter is, you're not qualified to be a part of this operation. You don't have the training, skills, or experience to handle yourself in a dangerous situation. What you're doing is putting yourself and other members of the task force at risk, and I'm not going to tolerate it.”

“my position has nothing to do with the field, I'm strictly on base!” she exclaims 

“That is not the point. You're still on duty, and you're still responsible for the safety and well-being of the task force. You're a liability, not a help, when it comes down to it. If we need an immediate evac and the other actual medics are already in the field then what? we send you in because you're all we got. The last thing I need right now is to worry about keeping you safe instead of focusing on the mission. So, do you understand why you're nothing but a burden to me on this task force?”

“I've been called many things in my life, but never a burden. that's a new one thanks Ghost you truly never fail to surprise me! But you aren't gonna bully me out of here. Laswell wanted me here and I'm gonna do my job” she says standing “Also for future reference, the medic that could be saving your life one day really isn't the person to piss off”

“Oh trust me, I'm well aware” his skull-covered face inching closer as he leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into hers. She stands tall and refuses to let him see how truly nervous he made her. ”But while we're giving life advice, let me give you some. If I were you, I would be very careful about who you choose to piss off. Because if I have to deal with your bullshit again, I'll make sure you regret it. Is that clear?”

She salutes him sarcastically and walks out the door. Ghost rolls his eyes and sighs in frustration. 

“Bloody hell” he murmurs before going back to his paperwork. 

chapter 3: https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733828281298780160/show-him?source=share

[remyfire]

Thinking about Louise and Trapper this morning got my mind racing and I had a scenario come to mind that I don't think I have the time to turn into a fanfic, but I wanted to share it here anyway in case anyone else enjoys it.

CW: A brief but explicit description of sex.

Trapper postwar sneaks a photo of him and Hawkeye home with him and tries to keep it hidden from Louise. I feel like in whatever verse this would be, Trapper probably wrote to his daughters more about Daddy's Friend Hawkeye than mentioning him much to Louise in the few letters he sent home specifically to her. Maybe he wrote about Hawkeye quite a bit initially, then suddenly cut to never mentioning him to Louise, even conveniently ignoring any time she might've asked about That Surgeon Friend Of Yours while he wrote around the question in his replies home.

Trap doesn't talk about Hawkeye once he gets home, not a word. He's so frigid and tense, rigid too, only really loosens up with the girls. He's intimate with Louise once or twice, but it's few and far between and he makes excuses whenever Louise initiates sex.

But there's one night—something big, maybe the anniversary of Henry's death—when Trapper slides over to her side of the bed, quietly but passionate seducing her with a growing fervor, but they get as far as both of them being naked before she realizes he's not actually hard and when she points it out, he's embarrassed, pulls back sharply and tries to just roll over and go to sleep.

But Louise is undeterred. She wraps herself around his back with all her limbs, kisses and nips at his shoulder and throat, and when she finally feels him starting to relax, she asks him what he wants tonight, that she'll do anything she can. And it takes a few minutes for Trapper to get the words out—his tongue is too thick in his mouth and when she puts her hand over his heart, it's racing so fast that she's surprised he hasn't passed out. But eventually he finds a clumsy way to say that he wants her to fuck him. She asks if he means riding him and he says no, reiterates, he wants her to fuck him. And god, they've never done that before. Trapper's always taken her with such feverish passion, loved being inside of her.

Her silence makes him anxious and he begins to pull away again, but Louise blurts, "On your back or your front?" and Trapper holds his breath for a long few seconds, waiting for her to change her mind, before he rolls onto his hands and knees. He's up there maybe a second before his front half crumples and he buries his face in his pillow, ass still up in the air.

It takes Louise a few minutes to figure things out. She's got to be a sight, she thinks, her tight barrel curls wildly mussed and flying everywhere, completely naked but for her wide-open white robe, probably looks like the world's weirdest ghost rooting through the pantry in the dead of night. But she had plenty of needs of her own while Trapper was away, and with two little girls who always needed her attention and no contact with her own family for personal reasons (she hates their guts, as you do), it wasn't like she could go trawling the bars and bringing joes home to fuck her. So when she gets back to the bedroom, she tentatively rubs at his hole with a little bit of vegetable oil and when Trapper whines into the pillow—whines, a sound she's barely ever heard from him—she drips a little more onto her fingers, then cautiously begins stretching him out like he often had to do with her in those first months of marriage when she had trouble adjusting to his size.

I'm imagining Louise doesn't own a dildo because she has no idea how to get a hold of one and especially doesn't want to ask the wrong person and have her looked down on in some way as a mother—she already feels like she must be the worst kind of wife, thanks to Trap's occasional bitter treatment of her for one reason or another over the years, and like hell is she gonna risk somebody saying she's a shit mother or a dangerous influence—but after she has Trap prepped, she pulls out her hairbrush that's served her many a night and fucks him with the handle.

Trapper gasps and moans for her in ways that he rarely does, and when she quietly asks, "Still good, John?" he freezes, then lifts his head just enough to say, "Call, call me Trap, okay?" And it's a nickname that Louise has always been wary of, but what is she going to say, no? So she does. And the moment she whispers that name, Trapper begins crying into the pillow, is still weeping when Louise gets a hand around his cock and jerks him off until he comes.

And I'm imagining Trapper pulls Louise close, curls up in a little ball as he buries his face in her neck like a child hiding from the world, and she...is pretty sure she understands quite a bit more about her husband than she did an hour ago. So when she quietly asks, "I bet you miss your friend very much. Hawkeye, yeah?" he sniffles, begins to cry again, but gentler this time. And it's halting and coaxing, asking gentle questions that confirm her suspicions—that this man was her husband's lover in Korea, that he's the only person who kept Trapper sane—and every time he goes quiet with fear at what her next response might be, she simply keeps rubbing his back and talking about whatever comes to mind, anything at all to do with Hawk and with Trap's time spent with him. They're still talking when the sun rises. It's the most words he's said to her in literal months.

Hawk finally gets a letter from Trapper two weeks later, written on Louise's stationary and with the pen she'd pushed into Trap's hand. And at the end of it, Hawkeye gets an open invitation to drop by Boston the second he gets home, signed by both of them.

[mini-leafster]

~ the cave was a thing. Yep. It still is. Starting again.

So after Maple got perforated Pin was informed on how to do necromancy. Maple's dead body was teleported to Pin and she prepared it for plantcromancy. At some point Leafy fucked off to watch ghost TV. We can't recover her because of this and she's been watching BFDI for days so she probably got past BFB 5 and hasn't realized she diverged her timeline because ghost. The last sentence is not confirmed but is something I think about from time to time. What is canon is that Coiny got teleported to Pin when she was going full garden. There are so many soil hands, Junior. I can't tell if it's just the corpse hospital or if Pin decided to disarm civilians again. She was doing this to grow a tree out of Maple's corpse. Pin almost took Coiny's arms again but it was funnier if she took his legs we decided. Also he couldn't run to tell people about the war crimes. Coiny kinda... Deactivated. He's okay but knowing what happened around the tree he's likely missing a limb or two. Around this time the Funny blue plant disowned his kid and fell into drugpression. He is currently being talked out of being suicidal and talked into taking his child who loves him very much back. Shroomy got sick in some way I don't know how but she now has children born from the corpses of two of her victims. We healed her from dying very recently. Her kids are playing with FBP'S child. The tree Pin propagated out of the corpse finally worked and you got mild memory issues. Maple got a makeover by the random future person and is set into murder mode atm. Just another day for you guys. That's all well and good but more importantly Pin has facilitated your rebirth! In cultivatinyou and Maple from the same place from the same corpse and by her own two hands Pin did something significant. You two now legally qualify as sisters! And more than thaaaat.

*Slams fist on table*

PIN IS NOW TO YOUR MOTHER.

..Yeah, y'know how I was saying "that angry feeling went away"? Uh. Ditch that entire sentence.

Also, that fits concerningly well. Um.

[blu3cl0v3rs]

Summary: Kai and Nya run into someone unexpected.

Warnings: Kai considers murdering a child

Prompt: Day 16 - Time Travel

Extra: I had another direction I was gonna go with this, where Wu and Morro sat down and looked through a photo album, but then Season 7 and the time travel prompt hit me in the face and now this happened. Set when Kai, Nya, and Wu travel 40 years back in time during Season 7.

Nya and I rushed to make it in time. For Wu's sake. For the future's sake.

The plan was to pretend to be our parents, get the Time Twins back to the present- or future? Kai shook his head, there's no point in dwelling on specifics. They get the Reverse Blade, then get rid of the Time Twi-

About to run into someone, I yanked Nya close as I rocketed them upwards. Stifling a yell, Nya glared at me, and I sheepishly shrugged at her. We glanced down to see what I dragged us away from, only for our jaws to drop in unison.

Misako, a younger brunette version of her, pulled a kid down the steps.

But not just any kid.

A screaming, flailing, angry, child-sized, living Morro.

It was almost uncanny how similar this child and that evil-monster-danger ghost looked alike, until I reminded myself that they were the same person. He had black hair and the same unnatural green lock, although his skin wasn't tainted a sickly green, nor did he have those darker eye marks, and he seemed a bit smaller. But regardless, the wind master screamed.

"LET ME GO, I CAN HELP! MISAKO!" the boy repeated some variations of that same line constantly, swinging limbs making it difficult for the brunette woman to safely escort the child down.

It would be so easy to blast the kid off the mountainside, a sinister thought slithered through his mind, coiling around his consciousness. It would save Lloyd from the night terrors, the constant fear of possession, the way he looked at Cole. My sister gave me a hardened look, obviously knowing what I was thinking. Not surprised, we could never hide things from each other.

"He's just a kid," she whispered.

"So is Lloyd," I shot back.

"He hasn't done anything wrong yet."

"But he will."

"So?" Nya sighed. "I get it, Kai. But if we change this, the future won't be the same. It could destroy our future."

I pursed my lips, rage still simmered under my skin. That monster child hurts Lloyd in the future.

"Please," Morro teared up. "I can help! I'm strong enough, I can protect them."

My head snapped towards the duo. Misako had stopped trying to walk down the stairs, and Morro had stopped trying to escape, allowing her to set him down with firm hands on his shoulders.

"I know you want to help, and I know you're strong, but we would never be able to forgive ourselves if you got hurt, Morro." Misako reasoned, a soft glint in her eyes. "We all love you, and I need you to trust that the other's can handle this. Capiche?"

Morro glared at the stairs he stood on, as if he could bring down the Time Twins by taking down the mountain itself by his stare.

"...capiche," he mumbled, allowing himself to be brought down the rest of the flight of stairs by Misako's steady grip on his small calloused hands.

The anger seeped out of me. I took a focused breath, and landed us near the monastery.

"Let's finish what we came here to do."

[as-i-watch]

Do you know what the biggest lie ever told in one piece is?

"There are only 5 devil fruits that can fly"

I mean Pell sounded cool when he said it but it has gotten worse over time with every devil fruit that appears.

Let's go down the list from least to most ridiculous DF users who can fly.

ACTUAL BIRDS:

-Pell [Bird Bird fruit: Model Falcon]

-Marco [Bird Bird fruit: Model Phoenix]

-Morgans [Bird Bird fruit: Model Albatross ]*

*Morgans is flightless in his hybrid form, but Albatrosses can naturally fly for long distances*

-Buzz [Bird Bird fruit Model eagle]**

**Buzz is a noncanon character from the movie One piece strawhat chase. He is a dog**

OTHER FLYING ANIMALS:

-Cub [bug bug fruit: Model rhinoceros beetle]

-Bian [bug bug fruit: Model hornet]

While bugs are known for crawling, these two tontatas have DFs who's species can naturally fly.

-King [Dragon Dragon fruit: Model Pteranodon]

Flying is the only natural thing that King does with his fruit. All the fire stuff is unique to King

-Kaido/Momonosuke [DF NAME UNKNOWN]

Momo can fly by summoning clouds and walking on them but dragons appear to have the innate ability to fly as shown with Kaido

BIRD BY TECHNICALITY:

-Toragatsu [Bird Bird fruit Model: Nue]

Torgatsu is a noncanon character from the One Piece x Kyoto art show. The nue is a chimera like creature from Japanese folklore that has the body of a tiger, head of a monkey and a snake for a tail. Alternatively it can be described as having the back of a tiger, the limbs of a tanuki, the tail of a fox, the head of a cat, and the torso of a chicken. It is a bird fruit because the name Nue also refers to the scaly thrush bird that the chimera mimics. Torgatsu can fly by summoning rainbow colored flames.

LOGIAS:

All known logia users [with the exceptions of Aokiji, Akainu*, Blackbeard &Caribou ] can fly via elemental propulsion. [*Akainu is in a different category]

-Ace/Sabo [flame flame fruit]

-Smoker [plume plume fruit](smoke)

-Crocodile [Sand sand fruit]*

*the presence of these 3 fruits alone in alabasta immediately invalidated Pell's statement*

-Kizaru [glint glint fruit] (light)

-Enel [Rumble Rumble fruit] (Lightning)

-Caesar Clown [Gas Gas fruit]

-Monet [Snow snow fruit]

PARAMECIA SHENANIGANS

-Shiki [Float Float fruit]

man can just straight up fly

-Trafalgar Law [Op Op fruit]

-Fujitora [Press Press fruit]

-Eustass Kid [Magnet Magnet Fruit]

The above manipulate their environment to create platforms that they ride on.

-Big Mom [Soul soul fruit]

Can use her soul to create constructs that she rides on

-Perona [Hollow Hollow fruit]

Can fly by turning herself into a ghost.

-buffalo [Spin Spinf Fruit]

Can fly by helicoptering his body parts.

IS IT FLYING IF I DON'T TOUCH THE GROUND?

-Akainu [Mag mag fruit]

Has been shown to use his magma to propel himself short distances but hasn't shown the ability to fly

-Magellan [Venom Venom fruit]

Can create pathways of poison that allow him to fast travel around impel down

FLIGHT BY TECHNICALITY

-Buggy [Chop chopper fruit]

his body parts can Float around within a certain radius of him, excluding his feet.

DOESNT COUNT AS FLYING

-Ms. Valentine [Kilo Kilo fruit]

Reducing her weight to 1Kg allows her to jump really high into the air and slowly fall down

??????

Karasu [DF UNKNOWN]

Can turn himself into a murder of crows and fly.

SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO FLY AT ALL

-Doflamingo[string string fruit]

He flies by spidermaning his way through the air, sticking his strings to clouds

-Robin [flower flower fruit]

Grows several dozen arms that she fuses into a pair of wings

-Luffy [Gum Gum fruit]

Gear 4. Contracts and expands his legs with so much speed and force that it generates thrust.

There are probably some others that I missed but these are the major ones for where you are.

This a really cool categorization and also

Perhaps it was meant that only 5 DF like actually come with wings and the other ones just elevate their powers to do all that crazy shit

Or perhaps is further evidence Oda makes it all up as he goes along (most likely lol)

[soaps-mohawk]

So I saw the scruffing ask and HEAR ME OUT:

First off: Ahhhhhh!!!! (Inarticulate noise of excitement!!!)

Okay okay okay, secondly, it would be neat and cool and stuff to have reader be doing something around base and maybe one of the boys steps away for a moment and a random visiting alpha just scruffs her, thinking she’s just another recruit, but GHOST SEES and HOO BOI, we’re gonna have a rumble!! And then after maybe maybe maybe—Ghost is the only one available/on base to comfort her 😏 Helloooooo bonding moment! (Honestly seeing Ghost so grumpy makes me wanna curl up in his lap like a kitten and slowly encourage him to love and accept me ��) Anyways, just a thought!

You are such an incredible author and all of this lore building is just feeding my obsession with this fic! The crazy amount of detail and work you’ve put into this project just absolutely floors me every time I see you answer an ask…thank you so much for sharing these amazingly creative thoughts with us!

I hope your week is going well so far for you 💙 You absolutely deserve all of the good things in life, even if your silly little brain tells you otherwise. He’s a liar and fraud!

Always, Blue 💙

Hehe that alpha would be a pile of limbs left in the middle of the road to be found by literally everyone on base after that. Ghost would torture him slow and as agonizingly as possible. He'll be begging for death before Ghost even thinks about removing a limb.

Scruffing will come into play later in the fic, though I'm not going to give any details as to when or how or why. You'll just have to wait and see in that regard.

Thank you, though. This fic has become so much more than I thought it ever would and I'm so eternally grateful to all of my wonderful readers. It's really because of y'all that this fic has even gotten to this point. I owe a lot to y'all and I'm really excited to continue writing and seeing everyone's reactions to the fic.

My week hasn't been too bad (it's still only monday so that could change lol). Still got a lot more to do and a chapter to write 💚

[dingoat]

For BEST GIRL: desire, future, ghost, hate, mask, nightmare, secret, skin, torture. 8)

FINALLY getting around to finishing this batch of asks from this very fun set of questions! And AS YOU KNOW the best girl has been through SOME THINGS. A LOT of things. >.>

desire: What’s one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

In a word: freedom. Ahuska is so so tired of having to hide, of being hunted, of being a danger to innocent people. She wants the freedom to live, and love, open and carefree and unburdened. She wants the control phrase conditioning out of her head. She wants to undo whatever it is that makes her tear Force Sensitives limb from limb. She wants to exist, openly, with rights, without a bounty on her wolf's pelt. She wants to stop hearing 'we can't, you can't, it's not safe for you'. And she is completely open with this, her driving force in life for some time now, and she will do almost anything to fulfil this desire. She might even fully embrace learning to use the Force, now that someone's put the idea into her head that it might be the one way she'll have to earn an unchallenged place in the galaxy.

future: What’s the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it’s a possibility?

Probably to wind up back in a cage, broken and under external control, used as a tool to destroy everyone she loves. She's acutely aware of how real a possibility this is and is incredibly driven to avoid this outcome. (Five has no idea how lucky he is that some very good people are quite fond of him, or Ahuska might not have been able to resist the temptation to hunt him down and remove him from the equation, which would substantially reduce the risk of anyone using her control phrase against her.)

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

The people she's killed, for sure, especially as more and more memories of her early werewolfy days as an Imperial tool become open to her. These ghosts, she lives with by reminding herself that she had no choice, she had no ability to consciously stop herself, and of course by doing everything she can to avoid winding up in that situation again. The nights she's slipped up despite finally knowing what she's capable are much harder for her to deal with.

She's also definitely haunted by the knowledge that her monstrous form was one of Blakk's nightmares, and possibly still is. She still hasn't found a way to properly deal with this yet, and might not until they can finally have an actual conversation again.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

Before she became close to Thirteen, it was very very easy to hate Five in a very pure and righteous way. For what he did to her, for the way he treated Blakk, for his casual cruelties and despicable, high-born Imperial attitudes. She still does not understand at all how anybody could ever be fond of such a person, but she's not actively targeting him for a future murder any more which is a pretty big deal.

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Ahuska wears a lot of masks, largely as a matter of self preservation. A very common one is the 'I'm fine' mask that she's learned to wear around little stuck-as-a-fox Blakk, because it breaks her heart to see him feeling any sort of guilt about their situation. I think she and Thirteen are currently sharing a mask that's telling the world 'we're brilliant, actually, very put-together and also extremely sexy and talented', which is quite actively preventing them both from experiencing their own private catastrophic depressed meltdowns. It's a super healthy coping strategy that won't at all end in heartbreak. And of course, in her day to day, out in public life, there's the mask she wears to give the impression that she's a simple, unremarkable, absolutely-not-a-werewolf-or-fugitive little Bothan, just going about her day with no troubles or lofty aspirations. It's tiring, though, and being a hermit is far far easier.

The fact that she's currently quite intimately bonded to Thirteen means that he's actually the most likely to glimpse who she really is under all the masks; how broken and frightened she is. He's definitely been the only person so far to demonstrate a real understanding of who she is and what she wants in life, and the wild but intensely caring duality of her nature.

The Jedi on Tython who have been helping her are also committed to peeling back the protective layers she's built around herself and helping her discover and come to terms with the pieces she denies and ignores; they have seen more of her than most.

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

Ahuska has nightmares about being caged. About suffocating walls closing in on her, about heavy chains wearing her down, about heavy boots resting on top of her head. She has nightmares about a seductive hand brushing along the length of her leg, luring her into the cell from which there's no escape. She keeps these nightmares very much to herself, and doesn't know what else to do but try and push them from her mind, bite back the tears, and desperately hope they won't return when she closes her eyes again.

secret: What’s one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

I don't think she ever wants to let on just how tempted she is by the idea of just running away with Thirteen and never facing reality again. It's a fantasy, and she knows it, but gods if he were to actually suggest the idea out loud, she's not sure she could resist.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Ahuska has gone through the full range of emotions, from absolute loathing to complete adoration of her inner wolf. Ultimately she loves her wild self and lives for the day she can exist freely and openly in whatever shape she feels like wearing in the moment.

Knowing that the Force is something she's privy to and has the capacity to wield has taken a lot longer to come to terms with; after a long period of denial and disgust with herself, absolute anxiety and mistrust of learning, she finally reached a stage of cautious acceptance that was workable... and now, finds herself on the verge of embracing it in full.

The weakest and most miserable version of herself? When she was completely broken, had lost all faith in herself, and handed over complete control of her thoughts and actions to the worst person she'd ever met? Oh, it kills her to know that she can be brought so low, and to acknowledge it is to bring herself to tears. To shivering, shaking, ugly crying. She hasn't yet found a way to properly reconcile this part of her.

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

Oh, yes. She was subject to some very nasty treatment at Five's hands. Frequent pain, starvation, denial of basic needs, basic comforts, any form of privacy or dignity... and, having suffered so, she has absolutely no desire to inflict the same on any other being. She is, deep down, committed to the idea of being a force for good in the galaxy- and not wanting to be anything like Five is a pretty solid motivation to steer her in that direction, as well.

[rustys-lodge]

You don't go get drunk when a price is on your head. PT2

Summary : Frank, the man who has been risking his life for you for the past week awaits for you home. While you're out partying. drunk. How's he going to react the next morning ?

Pairings : Frank castle x daughter

Warnings : a bit of violence from Frank

Part 1

-----

Frank hasn't spoken to your stupidass in a few days. He'd just throw you glares and glances from afar with absolute dissapointment in his eyes.

It's very annoying.

If he made food, he's toss you the plate from a distance and not grant you a single look. And It was starting to get to you. The itch was getting bigger and rougher.

How many more times did you have to say sorry to him ? How much time did you need to give him ? Why was he acting this way ?

It was clearly not love...Yeah... So you stormed out of the stupid fucking trailor...and headed for...not sure yet. You just marched, every split second between your heel landing on the ground and the ball of your foot following grew your anger louder. And you were starting to zone out through the walk, but the set of footsteps that has been following behind you was distracting you from that, worrying you as well.

As you rounded a corner into a blind alley, you glued your back to the wall, waiting for whoever it was to show up.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the footsteps came closer. You took a breath in, jabbing your fingers shut into their suit, pulling them into the alley as soon as their figure came into picture. And before they could process, you pushed them into the ground

"Bitch" The woman shouted.

She was clearly surprised and unprepared, so you took advantage of that by jumping on top of her, setting knees on each side of her waist while putting your whole weight on her chest.

"So you were following me." You (rmphasizr a fact), triumph dancing in your voice. And as she squirmed, you took ahold of her hands and pasted them each next to her face.

"And you think you can win this fight ?" A giggle left the woman's lips and before you even had time to react to it, she yanked her hands away and placed one on your hand and the other on your back and swiftly rolled the both of you over , landing your back on the ground, with her on top of you.

Shit.

Pinning your arms to the ground with one hand, your killer smirked as she used her free arm to pull a tissue out of her jacket pocket.

"Thank you...You're gonna' make me veery rich" As she proceeded to cover your mouth with the tissue, you jerked your body harder under her hold, squeezing your eyes shut and your nose as well, and before long, a shriek pierced through your ears and the weight was taken off of you.

You shot your eyes open, swallowing more oxygen than your body can handle but letting it all out in a scream when your body was pulled up. You squirm and push against your new predator's chest, because a familiar voice reached your senses.

"it's okay-it-it's okay...It's me ! it's me !"

Relief ran through your veins as your body went limb. It was Frank.

Holding onto your shirt, Frank follows the movement of your eyes, frantic and random, to meet his. And you do, shaken up even more when you realized that he was mortified.

Taking a deep breath in, you push against the man's body, pulling yourself away from him. What was he doing here ?

"Y/n, Those people are trained mercenaries. You think you have the ability to take them on ?"

You ignored him. What was he saying ? That you couldn't ? You were almost there. You had her.

Smacking the dust off your clothes, you walked out of the alley, disguarding the angry steps following behind you.

"Hey!" Frank shouted. "I'm talking to you." Out of pure desperation, he wrapped his fingers around your upper arm, stopping you from going forward. So you just stopped. And turned to him.

"What ?" You spat out, causing him to tip his head back in disbelief, and a ghost of a smirk to appear on the corner of his lips. Your body tensed up. "Why are you smirking ?" Your voice grew louder.

"You have absolutely no idea who you're up against, why are you-"

You yanked your arm out of his grip, violently. "What do you care, Frank ?"

That's it.

"Huh ?" You insist, as he didn't respond. What ? Now that you're talking, he doesn't want to anymore ?

Frank glanced around, lowering his gaze as people brushed past both of you, staring and glaring at the horrible state the man was in. But you didn't really care anymore. And your posture showed just that.

But you did...you did and the glistening coat covering Frank's eyes made your heart shudder "How-huh.." his tone dropped into a mumble. "How can y-you say that."

You straightened up, now mirroring Frank's stance as shame swept over you.

"I..." You weren't sure you what. You just....You just didn't feel that he cared ?

Frank shook his head as if he read your mind.

" You stupid stupid girl " A trembling sigh left his mouth before his arms are tightly wrapped around your body, enveloping the entirety of you. Of your existence.

And you were finally safe, you could finally let go. You could finally collapse because you knew you were going to be held up, saved.

You took a deep breath in, inhaling Frank's natural fragrance....as well as sweat and blood....and dirt.

But it didn't matter. You were finally safe.

------

❤❤❤🌹🌹🌹

@mattmurdocksstarlight @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @indec1sive @arson-420 @xpsidedownn i know it's late lol I'm sorry ❤

[devilanon]

[just a small snippet of the basic gist of my simon/rescued yn fics. like just what theyre usually about conceptually]

they pull her out of a maze of concrete in the mojave, all red dirt and dust and she looks like a wraith or a ghost, he thinks, moreso than even him, all long skinny starved limbs and sunken eyes and a white nightgown thats too big for her, but not big enough to go past her knobby knees, purple and bruised.

and shes so compliant by nature that she doesnt thrash or scream when he hauls her over a shoulder, "'nother civvie recovered", and her limp greasy hair hangs over her face, reminding him of that one movie with the tortured girl crawling out of the well. (shes still and placid, legs limp and dangling, like shes used to being manhandled by men, and the thought makes him a little sick.) he has the wherewithal, at least, to cover her eyes as he steps over the gore in the hallway, big black boots slick with brain matter

and theres nowhere for her to fucking go, because he just popped her family members (tormentors, traffickers) in the head, she hasn't seen a school since she was learning her times tables, and she looks like a stray cat he just pulled out of a fucking drain pipe. all she's missing is the fleas. so he keeps her, like one would a stray cat, of course, brings her across the ocean to his flat. and like a stray cat she hides for a month or more, peeking at him around corners, only coming out at night when she thinks he's long gone to bed, fighting screaming wailing when he puts her under the head of a shower. everyone gives him shit for taking home a stray, but he cant bear the thought of taking away everything she'd ever known, liberating her (though it felt a lot more like burning down a house) just to toss her into the system to be rung out, sedated, institutionalized or god forbid turned loose when she can barely even work a stove.

[sumiresaitozakiloveher]

Degree of lewdity x reader dead PC mostly murdered

Alex: You were patrolling the area when you saw Remy men destroying the fence with axes. You marched right up the thugs and demanded them to stop emiditly. You failed the intimidation due to a lack of muscles. The irritated thug raises his axe and swung it towards you, striking your head. The thug pulls his axe from your head back into the air, striking you down multiple times. The other thug watched in horror as you got chopped up into pieces. Once your last limb was chopped off, the two men retreated from which they came. Alex noticed your absence and decided to go looking for you. With the dog being well trained by you, the dog is able to find your location right away. Or what left of you. The dog starts whimpering as Alex spots your mangled corps being a feast for a group of house flies. Alex wasted no time informing the police about his discovery, hoping they'll come quickly. Weeks later, the murder hasn't been cought yet, making your ghost restless. Days later, Alex started falling apart. He saw you as a lover, and now you're gone. He wakes up in his bed with another bottle in hand, recovering from a hangover. With your death staining the farm reputation and having no help, he's been drinking a lot. He knows Remy behind your murder but due to lack of evidence, they couldn't form an arrest. At the end of the day, he looks out the window that gives him the perfect view of the spot he found you dead. He sees your ghost standing there looking back at him. Your chopped off limbs are floating near their proper spot, intimidating there still attached to the body. Alex would always see your ghost watching him in that same exact spot every night staring back at him. He doesn't know why you never move or do this every night, but it brings him a little comfort seeing you each night.

Eden: You're being hunted. There's a bullet casing on the ground. You try to move quickly to get to the safety of town. At bullet whizzes towards you at high speed, impaling your lung from behind. You trip over your own feet, falling to the ground as breathing becomes too painful. There's no way you can survive with an injury like this. All you can do is lay here suffocating. You quickly die from your injuries as Eden comes close enough to see his latest kill. At the site of your body, Eden didn't say a word, but Eden had a bit of guilt for killing you. He picks up your fresh body and finds a nice spot to barry you near the lake and starts digging. Weeks later, Eden would sometimes hear and see things. He'll hear footsteps running away from him but follow him at the same time. Even with his tracking skills, no tracks would be left behind. Walking threw the woods, he saw a figure watching him from the distance within the trees. With the blink of an eye, the figure would be gone. In his cabin, he swares that the wood has an eye that watches his every move. He recognized the figure as you matching your appearance, including the bullet wound. Seems like he wasn't the only one who sees you. At the lake, the students would sometimes gather there telling the story about the girl in the woods. A school girl goes into the woods in search of lichen for her science project only to never return. The only clue that she was in the woods was her blood and bloody bullet. Now, if you ever see her stalking you, it's a sign that you'll be the next one to disappear.

Robbin: When Robbin wasn't in his room, you asked the other orphans about his wearabouts and got a hint from an orphan. Bailey took him to the docs after he failed to pay. Without a second thought, you rushed to the docs, hoping it's not too late to save him. There you find him getting tourtcherd by the doc workers. Not thinking straight, you tried to fight off the men horribly failing. Beaten and bruised like a brown banana, you begged to be Robbin replacement as a last chance to save him. The two men looked at each other, discussing the offer they were presented. Without saying another word, the men freed Robbin from his binding and started tying you up. Robbin ran straight home, leaving you behind. Weeks later, Robbin sat on his bed holding a newspaper with the headline young woman corpse found washed up on the beach. The newspaper expired days ago, but he can't help but feel responsible for your death. Bailey sent him to the docs to die, but you sacrificed yourself for him. It should have been him. He's been seeing Dr. Harper as a therapist as he started seeing a twisted version of you with rotten skin, soaked clothes, with algae all over the body. He's convinced that the guilt took a toll on his mental health, starting to make him hullinate. A tiny part of him feels like you're still here watching over him. It feels like you're watching him when he tries to sleep he'll see a shadow silhouette starting down at him every night when he tries to sleep.

[diamond-dangeresque]

The crystals pulse with energy even after its creator long moved south. Echoes of the climactic battle hang in the air alongside draconic electricity. There is a tension, a trepidation, to the scene as Chihiro arrives atop a small floating platform of Brandcrystal, hopping off of his rotund cuckoo and looking upon the carnage. Sheathed at his side, Bolt crackles with lightning in its brassy edges, threatening to lift itself out and dance on the sun rays. Chihiro rests a hand on the handle, the other hand grabbing his cape to shake any clinging dust or crystalline shards clinging to the frayed hem. He doesn't need to lift his blindfold to see the remains far below, in fact hasn't needed to see with it off in a long time.

"Behold," he hears the voice of Glint in his mind, bountiful with regrets and remorse, "my last stand...and what remains of it."

Chihiro looks on in silence. His minds-eye vision reveals draco-energy swirling from the impact zone far below, rising upwards and out through the air, reverberating into the Brandcrystal and back out. He can almost hear the ghosts of this combat: swords and arrows and magical blasts hitting rock-solid crystal, bodies flung onto sand, a machine whirring to life as a sandstorm howls for the blood of these unknown combatants.

"I knew," Glint continued, "for a very long time that I was to die. In the maw of my own father. On the grounds where I called home. Dying in vain trying to strike back against a living maelstrom."

Finally, Chihiro finds his voice and speaks up: "How did it feel?" A beat. "When the death blow came."

He could feel the Dragon mull over that question. Could feel her retreat from his mental presence. And then Glint returned, as solemn as when she first spoke up. "A sharp spike of pain, and then disappointment," was her answer.

"At what?" Chihiro kept his gaze towards the epicenter of this scene of draconic violence. He can see, with some further focusing, the fuzzy outlines of a combat long past: a Charr, a Norn, a Sylvari, two Asura (one smaller with a golem, the other with a pained gait to their walk as they guided complicated and multi-limbed machinery with them), and a large dragon. The dragon-silhouette fights valiantly at first, but waves and waves of Branded slowly choke out any hope of victory for this lone group.

There's more silence from Glint until she breaks it, the first time the Herald had ever heard the Dragon's voice falter: "I had hoped fate would change. That my visions were not so immutable." He can hear Glint snort. "That I would have the privilege to see my child grow with me."

He thinks back to Aurene. He thinks on how she was going to grow to that size one day. She already has her mother's coloration, her second "uncle's" flat snout and swirled cheeks, her first "uncle's" voracious appetite and sharp teeth . (He wonders what she'd inherit from her "grandfather".) And he thinks to himself, 'Her own mother died fighting Kralkatorrik at the prime of her life. How the hell is she ready?''

"It was a foolish notion in the end," Glint says, perhaps more to herself than to her Herald.

"I don't know," Chihiro muses, "I mean...this whole me-being-the-Hero plans hinges on changing fate, doesn't it? I'm alive 'cause of you, ain't I? When I shoulda been at the bottom of Lake Doric."

"Your obligation to the role of Hero is why you live still. Why reality hasn't yet torn you asunder."

"And here I thought my swell personality was keeping reality from turning me into Mists-shreds," Chihiro says with his usual please-relax jokey tone, trying his balance to offset his patron's exhaustion from having to explain this point again, grabs from his pack a bundle of bamboo and rope and cloth that pops open into a glider with the ease of an umbrella. Gotta love those crafty Zephyrites. "Well, Aurene knows you're there with her all the way. Comforts her, even."

Glint sighs. "Your attempts at soothing my woes are...not unappreciated."

Jeez, this dragon and her insistence on flowery language... "Uh, you're welcome?"

"Let us move on," Glint says, her façade of calm calculation returning to her voice, "we shouldn't leave your teammates waiting to meet a god."

[myeuphoricmindset]

Haunted by you — Eddie Munson

Chapter two

chapter one & tags/warnings — here

masterlist

Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

➴ ➴ ➴

Perhaps her childhood visit to the bright white hospital with the grippy socks wasn't a mistake. This is the very reason they sent her away- because she saw people who weren't really there. But that was years ago; she was just a kid with a wild imagination and a talent for making up stories, or maybe that's what they made her believe. There hasn't been an encounter since, until now.

Daisy's gaze remained fixed on the man perched casually on her kitchen counter. The last remaining tear on Daisy's face falls as she stares blankly at him.

He said her name.

He's dead

He said her name.

He said her name.

And he's dead.

Trying to process all of this at once has given her a pounding headache. Daisy found herself teetering between laughter and continued tears. However, one thing she was certain of was her name lingered in the air between them. Her breath caught in her throat, and terror coursed through her at the way her name rolled off this stranger's lips.

"How do you know my name? Are you some sort of stalker?" Daisy's voice quivered with unease, but she found it simpler to ask this than to confront the perplexing notion that he is dead. All of this felt absurd, even ludicrous.

"No," he chuckled, then shook his head, his brown eyes reflecting concern as he observed her growing fear. "God, no."

He began to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender, but then a realization seemed to dawn on him, and he pointed at her, his brows furrowing.

"How could I be a stalker when you're in my house?"

"Stop avoiding my question. How do you know who I am?"

"Well, the officer said it. Ms. Daisy Morgan." He looks at her, his eyes trailing over her face.

The terror still courses through her veins, but as she looks at him longer he doesn't seem like a threat. His eyes radiate warmth, and even his tone, though tinged with sarcasm, carries a playful vibe. Besides, if he had bad intentions, wouldn't he have acted on them by now?

But then, there's that nagging worry: He could be one of those psychopaths that starts friendly, making you believe he's harmless and then he ends up cutting your limbs into tiny pieces and burying them in the backyard like a dog with a bone.

The stranger casually taps his chin, as though something suddenly came to mind, capturing Daisy's focus.

"Oh, and I know your name from Grace. That's your mom right?" He adds, though he appears to be well aware of the answer.

Daisy's stomach plummets.

He knows her name. He knows Grace. He knows how to get into this house. Questions bubble up ready to pop.

"You know —knew Grace?"

He shrugs, "We were roommates for a time. Although, she couldn't stand me. Even tried calling the priest to remove me." He shakes his head as he chuckles.

Daisy stares at him in disbelief, "Bullshit."

"I'm not bullshitting you," He gracefully slides off the counter, appearing unfazed. "The guy walked around throwing fucking holy water into the air. I mean, I hadn't been that entertained in years, so I quite enjoyed the performance."

He casually brushed his black jeans, as though the counter wasn't already spotless. Daisy couldn't help but wonder if he was a product of her imagination. But he moved and acted too real. She could feel his laugh within her chest and hear her name on his lips, making her whole body react. It's beginning to freak her out.

In an attempt to validate reality, she decides to employ a familiar tactic she had used in the past. Her strategy is simple: assign him a name. If she were to ask about his name and it differed from the one she had crafted in her thoughts, then she would find herself, well, let's just say she would be fucked. The silver lining is that it would confirm her sanity. However, the downside is that she would be faced with the disconcerting truth that she was, indeed, talking with a ghost. Either way, it was an unsettling situation.

Now, who does he look like?

Daisy studies the man before her, who persists on recounting his encounter with a priest. He is handsome, the pretty kind. The kind that might make others feel self-conscious. Because, who looks like that, anyway? His skin is flawlessly smooth, his curls look soft and fall just right, and his eyes are captivatingly deep brown. Brown isn't a special color, but the way it looks in his eyes makes you believe that it is. He carries himself with an effortless blend of confidence and ease, even as his words are often laced with sarcasm and playfulness.

Choosing a name is tough, but just to keep things simple, she goes with the first name that comes to mind: Joseph.

Daisy cuts in, her curiosity piqued, "What's your name?"

He looks down at her, "Oh, damn. I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Eddie,"

Eddie. Not Joseph. Damn it.

He extends his hand for a handshake, but his gesture doesn't quite sit well with Daisy. Is he trying to be funny? Does he find this situation humorous?

Daisy isn't finding it amusing at all.

Clutching onto a fragile strand of hope that things might not be as they seem, Daisy cautiously raises her hand to meet his. His head tilts ever so slightly, assessing her, and their brown eyes locked as they await her next move.

He looks real, which shakes Daisy's convictions to their core. His chest rises and falls, his eyes blink, and his lips curve into a genuine smile. All too real.

"I'm not going to hurt you. If that is what you are worried about," he reassures her.

She didn't know what to expect, but the cold sensation against her palm just before her hand moved through his was not it.

"Well, shit. I was really hoping things would be different." He groans and leans back against the kitchen counter, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Different?"

"People usually don't see me. So, why can you?"

Daisy shrugs, feeling completely lost. How could she know? Right now, nothing makes sense. Frustrated, she gets to her feet, still feeling dazed.

"Listen," she says with a sigh, glancing around as if hoping her thoughts will magically clear up. "Maybe you should go haunt someone or something else. I can't handle... whatever this is. I need to go to bed and wake up with a clear head."

"No can do," he replies casually, making his way into the living room.

"W-what do you mean, 'can't do'?"

Daisy follows him, observing as he drums his fingers on the couch while walking toward the record player.

"She never played this, you know," he mentions, lifting an Etta James record and giving it a once-over. "Our music tastes, well," he hesitates briefly, exhaling softly, "weren't exactly similar, but it would've been nice to hear something. The house felt as lifeless as she was." He glances at Daisy, his expression slightly pained. "Sorry," He places the record sleeve back on the table.

Daisy shrugs it off. But, she does takes note that he can pick up things, which is odd because he can't even touch her. But it's not worth dwelling on. None of this matters. She just needs to usher this ghost boy out and get some sleep.

"Alright, Come on," she says, walking past him and holding the front door open.

Eddie's brow arches, and she can see him suppressing a smile, which irritates her. "It was a pleasur—well, not really. But you've had your spooky visit, so you can head back to hell or wherever you came from."

He chuckles, "Hell? Do I look like I belong there?"

She points at his shirt, giving him a sharp look.

Eddie's gaze drops to his shirt, bearing the words "Hellfire Club," and he erupts into laughter. His laughter reverberates through the otherwise silent home, perhaps the only laugh to echo within these walls since they were built.

Daisy, however, remains unamused, her eyes locked onto him.

Eddie glances at his wrist, checking his watch, and takes in a sharp breath. "You're right," he concedes, "I should head back to the club I manage in Hell. Got a lot of work waiting for me." He briefly meets her gaze before making his way toward the front door. "The devil really depends on me. Can't let him down."

"Good luck with that," Daisy replies, avoiding eye contact as she widens the door for his departure.

"Thank you, I'll need it."

Eddie steps outside, a smile lingering on his face, and Daisy wastes no time in closing the door. She releases a heavy sigh and leans her back against the door, feeling a sense of relief washing over her. But before she can fully let go of the weight on her shoulders, Eddie's voice shatters her moment.

"Fuck, I got my days mixed up. Hellfire doesn't meet until Tuesdays."

Daisy lets out a piercing scream as she notices Eddie's head protruding through the door, his body seemingly absent or on the other side. Whatever she's witnessing, it's absolutely terrifying.

"What the fuck!" She stumbles back, clutching the banister for support.

Eddie laughs as he casually walks through the door. No, not around it, but right through it. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"Screw you," Daisy hisses.

"That's fair."

"Go away! Seriously," Daisy stands taller, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She takes a step forward, locking eyes with him. "I don't want you here," she says, her words deliberate and harsh.

Eddie's gaze softens, and his jaw tenses as he steps back. "If I could go, I would've left years ago. But I'm stuck here. So, you'll either have to deal with it or leave."

Leave? If only.

The reality is that she can't leave, and she doesn't want to stay. But she has to. There is nowhere for her to go. To make matters worse, she's utterly exhausted. If she were to lie down, even on the floor, she might fall asleep. Her eyelids feel as heavy as her heart.

"I have nowhere to go," Daisy admits softly.

They lock eyes, silence stretching between them. Something in his gaze begins to dissolve her anger. He's giving her those lost puppy eyes, and it's infuriatingly unfair. Why should she care if he's sad or hurt? She's only just met the guy. But she's not cruel; she still has a heart, even if it's shattered into a million pieces.

Eddie frowns. "Well, me neither. So, I guess we are stuck with each other."

Daisy's gaze drops, and she scolds herself for feeling a twinge of sympathy and for being harsh with him.

"So, what, you really are..."

"Dead? Yeah," Eddie replies casually.

It's sinking in, but not quite. Honestly, how does one even begin to grasp what's happening here? So, Daisy doesn't try to make sense of it. She accepts it, as if it's no big deal that she's standing here conversing with a ghost. It's the simplest way to cope and prevent a full-blown mental breakdown.

"Cool," Daisy says, sounding as stupid as she feels.

"Cool?" Eddie looks amused. "Well, okay then. Uh, should I show you to your room?"

"Wait, are you like... the dead butler?"

Eddie stifles a laugh as he rubs his face. "Don't you think I'd be wearing a suit or whatever butlers wear?"

"Yeah, you're right. Butlers definitely don't wear... that."

"That? What do you mean? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Eddie responds in a defensive yet playful tone.

Daisy sidesteps his question and grabs her bag. "So, this way?" She points upstairs and starts making her way up.

"Wait, no. What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Eddie calls after her.

Daisy reaches the top of the stairs, where the hallway splits into two directions. She pauses, uncertain of which way to go. Eddie catches up, still muttering about her previous comment, but she interrupts him. "Which one isn't haunted by the ghost of my mother?"

"Oh, no. Grace isn't here. At least, I haven't seen her."

"Yeah, I'm sure she would have made her presence known by now." she says, rolling her eyes.

"Ah, I see. Mommy issues?"

Daisy shoots him a glare, and Eddie's lips tighten before he clears his throat. "Her room was downstairs, in case you were worried."

"I'm not worried, just curious," she replies, raising her chin.

"Mhm."

She rolls her eyes once more and pivots on her heel, heading for the room at the end of the hallway. Before she opens the door, she looks back at him. "Should I be concerned that you're going to watch me sleep?"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie mutters, making his way back down the stairs. "Go to bed, Daisy." With the next step, he vanishes.

Daisy stands in the doorway, gazing at the stairs, doing her best to process her bizarre reality. Deciding not to dwell on it, she closes the door and flops onto the king-sized bed.

════ ⋆Eddie⋆ ════

Eddie gracefully glides into the dim, empty room below, with only the moonlight filtering through the windows. Yet, he doesn't require light, for he resides within the shadows.

There it is, or rather, there she is, sitting gracefully in the alcove, framed on a wall adorned with colors he's memorized over the years.

Daisy's brown hair appears duller, her eyes seemingly lacking depth now that he's met her face to face. It's now evident that Grace painted this from a photograph, not from her memory. She failed to capture Daisy's true beauty.

God, she was beautiful.

The house seems quiet to the average ear, but Eddie hears everything—the gentle brush of the wind against the windows, the slow drip of the upstairs bathroom sink, and the constant, distant tapping, a reminder that he's trapped in the in-between worlds.

He's grown accustomed to these sounds. What he wasn't accustomed to was the soft crying from the room just above him. An ache forms in his chest at the sound of Daisy's cries, a physical sensation he hasn't felt in years.

Maybe it's because he hasn't spoken with someone in an unhealthy amount of time, or perhaps it's because he feels compelled to care for this girl, having admired her on the wall for so long. He worries he might be the cause of her tears. But, from the moment she entered the house, it was evident she was upset about something, which eased his pain slightly, suggesting he might not be the cause. Yet, it awakens an old, familiar emotion—anger.

Who could have hurt her?

None of this should concern him. He doesn't truly know her. Loneliness and sadness within his mind have led him to create ideas and versions of a girl he's never met.

Shame and disgust wash over him, especially when he contemplates how she can see him and whether she might find a way to set him free from this house. The thought terrifies him, yet it also provides him with hope.

But how could he even begin to entertain such thoughts while she cries herself to sleep? He turns away from the moonlit painting, closes his eyes, and vanishes into the shadows.

┗━━━ chapter three coming soon ━━━┛

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