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always-just-red · 21 days ago

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Hi! Hope you're having a good day!

Just found your blog yesterday and read Onychinus' Finest. I've been STARVED of Kieran and Luke fics, not enough people appreciate them, so I come with a request! (Most of what I'll say is totally optional. I believe in the author's creative vision overall so if something doesn't fit feel free to change and adapt whatever you'd like.)

Either hunter or assassin MC, where they're at a mission, and they're ambushed. One of the twins gets hurt protecting her, maybe even taken, and she just goes on a rampage to get him back. They've never quite seen her so protective and yet so vengeful. She might go by herself? When Sylus wants to plan ahead properly since his own miscalculations lead them to get attacked in the first place. The twins are loyal to him, the other brother won't go without his permission despise his brother being missing or hurt. I'm just picturing her finding a broken mask, half of it missing (she's never seen their faces before.)

Happy ending. 🥺 Just fluffy you know? I want the twins melting into her, one with gratitude for finding his brother and the other just with disbelief and affection that she's do all this for him.

Special mention to any heads on her lap like overgrown puppies, just holding her close. They're sweet boys I think, especially if their guard and masks are finally down.

You can take this as platonic or romantic, she could be with Sylus and still have grown to really care and look out for the twins, or she could love them. (I don't know which ones angstier)

Thank you for even considering this even if you decide it's not worth your time!

AAAAAAA HEY!! You had such a vision for this and it was so fun to work with-- I hope it's everything you imagined! You've always been so so so supportive and kind, so I low-key went all-out on this, that's half the reason it took so long. 😭😭 Think this is my longest fic so far oh my gosh? Love it though, all the action scenes took me RIGHT back to my Assassin's Creed fanfic writing days haha Anyway! This is set in the same canon as the last fic because I loved that dynamic ngl. Not a direct sequel though!

Beneath The Mask

Luke and Kieran x Reader 🎭

Summary: Sylus and Kieran are useless, as always, so you take matters into your own hands

Genre: angst + fluff + ACTION!! *karate chops*

Warnings/Additional tags: f!reader, nonMC!reader, platonic Sylus x reader, swearing, descriptions of violence, injury, broken bones, killing (don't @ reader, she wants her man back!!), but also some humour 😌

| Word count: 4.6k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sometimes, you think you’re the only member of Onychinus who isn’t completely out of their mind.

You’d think it was Sylus, your indomitable leader. Smiles-with-a-knife-at-his-throat Sylus. Has-the-situation-completely-in-hand Sylus. It used to inspire you: that crimson gaze of his, always alight with a fire that’s never, ever, quite out of control.

How does he do it? You’d wonder in awe, like a wide-eyed child enthralled by a magic trick.

How does he do it? You’re wiser, now. You know it’s a lie, now, but you still can’t see through it. It’s driving you mad.

You watch as the man works away at a large, glass monitor, his fingers gliding across the screen with their usual grace. You get glimpses: names, faces, contacts. He’s testing the cords of his network— an intricate web— and he’s hoping someone’s caught something he can sink his teeth into.

He’s been at this for two hours, ever since you dragged yourselves back here with your tails between your legs. There’s a gash on his forehead that hasn’t yet healed, and the blood is still drying, dark on his face. Has he thought to heal it? Or— there’s a smudge on his finger— does he like his guilt a little warmer to the touch?

“We need an order, boss,” you seethe, because you’re tired of standing beside him, unacknowledged.

“You have your order.” He types out a message. Dismisses another. “Wait.”

“I meant an order that isn’t complete bullshit.”

He shoots you a glance, his eyes embers of warning. “Careful, sweetie. You forget yourself.”

Your fists ball. “Oh, spare me.”

“What would you have me do?” he mutters, gaze returning to the screen. He isn’t rising to the challenge, or should you say— stooping to it. He’s so goddamn noble.

“They have Luke, Sylus.”

“I know.”

“So let’s fucking do something! Let’s go back, let’s get him. They caught us off-guard last time, that’s all. They got their hands on some Ever tech, so what? We know that, now. They don’t stand a chance if we just—”

“Charge in there, guns blazing?” Sylus finishes for you, lips curled in derision.

It sounds stupid out loud, and he wants you to hear it. You do; you don’t care. “We don’t need all of this,” you beseech, your hand waving over the monitor. “We have you, boss.”

“Me?” he chuckles, and it’s so, so bitter.

Is that the guilt you’ve been looking for? It isn’t enough. His eyes are still pools of calm— spilt blood, unreciprocated. How does he do it?

“We have to do something,” you say limply. “Please, I can’t… I can’t do this, Sylus. All this nothing. Tell me what to do. I’ll go back alone if I have to. Just say the word and I’ll—”

“Look at this,” he interrupts, stepping away from the screen so that you can take his place before it.

It’s an order, even if it isn’t the one you want. You roll your eyes as you obey, and you begin to scour the intel he’s gathered. Eyewitness accounts, rumours, surveillance footage— some courtesy of Mephisto— and it’s all centred around two things. One: the aspiring new gang you’d set out to dismantle earlier, and two: a link to Ever. A solid link to Ever.

“They didn’t steal Ever’s tech,” you release on a sigh of understanding. “They’re working together.”

“Mmm.” Sylus’s hand clears the screen before you. “We should have known. I should have known.”

Your mind is so caught-up by the revelation that you almost miss the confession.

“This was my mistake,” he continues, watching you. “And you are all my responsibility. Believe me…” He taps the screen and live surveillance footage springs up: an outside view of the compound you’d raided earlier. “I want to burn that place to the ground as much as you do.”

But… “No collateral damage,” you murmur, eyeing the guards on patrol.

“No collateral damage,” Sylus nods. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you, boss.”

And maybe he is burning with just as much anger. Maybe the fear is making his heart drum, and the guilt making his skin crawl. It’s the same, old trick, isn’t it? Done to death:

The mask without a mask— just where does he hide all that?

Maybe he doesn’t.

There’s only so much faith you can have in something you can’t see.

…

Clink.

You slot a bullet into the magazine of your pistol, then follow it up with another. Clink. Then another. Clink. You’ve never relished this quiet— not like Sylus does. To him it’s an art. To you: a chore. You glance about the armoury, and you’ve never resented your shelves of options quite like this before. Antiques. Prototypes. So many means of dealing death.

You’ve never seen the beauty in it, but a shot through the heart means something different to Sylus than it does to the rest of you. It can be intimate. Symbolic. He can die for something, someone, and he can do it over, and over, and over again. How poetic.

You holster your loaded weapon, then reach for another.

“What’re you doing?”

The voice makes you jump. “Gods, Kieran. You want a bullet through your head?”

“No.” He misses the meaning of your words. “Why— wanna shoot me?”

“Right now?” you ask cynically.

He laughs like he hasn’t got a care in the world. Liar. You’ve finished loading the second gun so you slide it across the table to him wordlessly. The beak of his mask lowers as he regards it; he doesn’t pick it up.

“You’re being weird,” he says after a moment. “It’s cool. I like it.”

You roll your eyes, wandering over to a rack of weapon attachments. There are different sights. Silencers. (Is that how you want to play this? Quiet?) “I’m going back for Luke,” you state as you muse it over. “You want in, or not?”

The rest is implied: Sylus doesn’t know. He isn’t coming. All of that’s evident from the fact that you’re here, rifling through his precious collection, and not ensnared in the tendrils of his Evol somewhere. A toddler could connect the dots. Kieran will get there. Give him a minute.

It takes half a minute. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. An ambiguous apology.

“It’s fine, Kieran.” He was never going to come with you. “I can do this alone. I can—”

A weight lands on you, tackling you into the weapons rack, and you land on the floor amongst the attachments you’d just been perusing so calmly. The weight stays on you, pinning you: hands are on your wrists, twisting you around. “Kieran!” you protest.

The man pulls away, leaving you slumped in your new, uncomfortable seat.

“Wha—” You try to stand up but you’re jolted back; your wrist is fixed to something. You turn your head, eyes widening as they fall on the pair of handcuffs you’ve been restrained with. They’re padded— lined with a soft, velvety material. “Where the hell did you get these?”

“Boss’s room. Luke and I had a bet,” Kieran shrugs, now towering over you.

“You win?”

“Heh. Yeah.”

You’re still trying to squeeze your hand out of the cuffs. You pry at them. Twist and wriggle your fingers— none of it’s any use. You glance up at Kieran, admitting defeat with a sigh. He brushes his hands together in a ‘job well done’ sort of gesture, his eyes fixed on you, well— you have to imagine they are.

Instead of windows to the soul you’re faced with red-glass imitations, impossible to read, and you’re tired of all the guessing.

“How do you do it?” you ask with a quiet desperation. “How do you act like everything’s fine?”

“Boss will come up with a plan,” the twin says simply, like he hasn’t really thought about it.

“And what if it takes too long? What if we’re too late? I mean… think of all the shit he knows, Kieran. Everything about us, about boss— it’s priceless. Do you really think they’re holding back?”

Kieran huffs. “You worried he’ll snitch or something?”

“I’m worried they’re hurting him!” you snap. “What the hell is wrong with you!? He’s your brother! He could be dead and you’re acting like, like..”

Your voice trails off as you gaze up at him hopelessly. There’s nothing to see— no tension in his body, no harsher rise and fall to his chest, betraying a nervous, racing heart. All the usual signs are missing. He isn’t shifting on his feet like he does when he’s anxious. Is he that good at pretending, or…

Does he really not care?

You shake your head, looking down at the floor; you’re so sick of red eyes. He’s crazy. Sylus is crazy.

There’s nothing for it, then.

“You know what?” you chuckle dryly, under your breath. “Maybe you’re right. This isn’t all bad, I mean… when’s the last time you and I had any one-to-one time, huh?”

Kieran is silent. He lowers himself slowly until he’s crouched before you— forearms resting on his knees. His head tilts inquisitively: Go on.

“Maybe,” you lilt, “this is an opportunity.” You’re practically whispering, and the man leans in, not wanting to miss a word. Your free hand reaches for a horn of his hood and you use it to pull him closer; he doesn’t even resist. “How about we…” you speak into his ear, “go look through Luke’s stuff?”

Kieran draws back, those false eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes you think, for a second, that you’ve gone too far.

“You’re the best,” he breathes out, suddenly fiddling with the handcuffs, slotting the key into the lock. “Just… the absolute best.”

Got him.

The cuff springs open and you’re on top of him, tackling him to the ground and pinning his arms by the side of his head before he can think to stop you. “Oh,” he grumbles, going still beneath you, and it sounds like his eyes are narrowing, “you’re not the best. You’re sneaky.”

His compliance lasts all of a second, and then he’s fighting back— using his strength to throw you off balance and wrench his wrists free. He rolls on top of you, trapping you just as effectively as you’d done him, and he laughs like a child, having ever so much fun.

With a grunt of effort, you manage to push him aside. You turn onto your stomach, scrabbling away as you look for space, opportunity, and— if you’re being honest— something you can throw at him. A hand connects with your shoulder and you thrust your elbow backwards on instinct. It hits something hard.

“Ah, shit! Wait, wait, wait… time out.”

You freeze instantly.

Kieran’s voice is different; it’s acquired a clarity that tells you his mask his away from his face. Don’t move. You stare down at the floor with a patience that’s almost sacred. He’s taking a while, though…

“You ok?” you ask.

“Yeah.” His voice is different again, like he’s holding his nose. “Nosebleed.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

You sit up with your legs crossed while you wait, but your eyes are still trained downwards. You can hear Kieran’s breath, a little ways behind you— so much clearer without the mask— and the intimacy is always sobering. Realising he’s vulnerable, knowable, and all you have to do is turn around.

He doesn’t rush, though: doesn’t scramble to pull the mask back down, or insist you keep looking away. The silence, the stillness— all of it is trust.

There’s movement in the corner of your eye; he’s set the mask down on the ground while he bleeds.

“I’m worried too,” he admits softly, and you’re not sure what’s more foreign: his voice, unhindered, or the honesty it carries. You don’t want to scare either away, so you do nothing. There’s more: “I can’t leave boss, though. Who else has he got?”

“The hunter?”

“Nah,” he dismisses. “She’s hot stuff, y’know? A lot of players in that game.” He taps at his mask idly. “Heard one of them’s a doctor.”

You’re quiet again. Thinking.

“Boss always has our back,” Kieran asserts. “We have to look out for him too… That’s the job, right?”

He’s not really asking you; you came to this late, after all. It was their job long before it was yours.

You’ve nothing to do but look at your hands and listen, biding your time. The passing seconds are still restless, useless, but the sensation slips when you feel hands on your waist, pulling you back. Kieran’s arms wrap around you. His chin settles on your shoulder, and you close your eyes.

“Stay,” he says. “Please?”

His pain is harder to sit with than your own. Minutes ago, this was something you wanted. Now it’s just another wound you don’t know how to stitch up; too deep, too late.

You let your head rest against his, but you don’t say a word.

…

This was easier when you were relying on Mephisto’s guidance and not hazy, disjointed memories. The last time you were here you were running, Kieran at your side and Sylus not far ahead. You weren’t thinking about what corners you turned or what directions you travelled; you were thinking about everything behind you. Shouts. Gunshots. The subtler rush of your leader’s Evol, still crackling, still faltering, courtesy of whatever technology your attackers had managed to appropriate.

It all happened so quickly.

Every corridor feels longer, now. Each moment— slow. Your body is aching. You’ve lost count of how many encounters you’ve had, but there’s a new bruise or scrape for every body in your wake. None of it has been easy. You ran out of bullets just getting inside this damn place, and the rest has been messier: up-close and personal.

You’re catching your breath, so you toe the rifle of your last adversary, lying a short way from their limp, open hand. They never got a chance to use it, and you were lucky; it would have been loud. Every guard in this run-down labyrinth is looking for you. The last thing you need is to send out a homing beacon.

Glance around. Try to work out your bearings.

This was once a police station. Old-world. Eroded beyond recognition, almost. These places were the first to fall victim to the backwards evolution of the N109 Zone. The bones are the same, but the skin is different. Every wall is scrawled with anti-Association sentiments.

It makes you smile, despite everything.

Your footsteps are deliberately quiet as you carry on down the corridor, turning into the next room— you’ve been tackling them one-by-one. There’s a narrower corridor before the room opens out, and then…

Cells.

A short line of them— five in total. Your heart wants to beat faster with hope, but your mind is holding it back: insisting this is wrong. It seems abandoned. Forgotten. You walk by the first cell, and then the second. Nothing. The third. Nothing.

There’s a sound behind you, and you almost don’t hear it. You spin, only to find a hand wrapped around your throat, tight and unforgiving. A guard thrusts you up against the red-brick column that divides two cells, and you’d cry out in pain, but there’s no breath to carry it. Your eyes water. You try to prise the hand away, and it’s desperation that possesses you— not skill or experience.

You kick out and hit nothing, but the second time, you catch the man’s shin. He shouts, his grip failing just enough for you to slip your fingers beneath his. A few seconds of advantage. You grasp his wrist, using your other hand to wrench his forefinger backwards— crack. He staggers with a cry and then you’re dodging his frenzied attempts to recapture you: weaving behind him, seizing the back of his neck. Your foot trips his. He’s teetering, off-balance, and you use the momentum to crash his head against a bar of the cell.

Metal rings out. Flesh splits.

The guard crumples at your feet and you almost go down with him. Your lungs are pulling for so much air that it makes your throat sting. Adrenaline laps your limbs, celebrating in sheer, ecstatic disbelief; you’re alive.

Someone wolf-whistles and you swear you feel everything stop.

Your gaze shoots up, lit by hope, but it’s quickly snuffed out. A young man is watching you from the fourth cell, his arms threaded through the bars. There’s a shameless grin as his eyes flit over you. All of you.

“Fuck off,” you sneer as you step over the guard. You turn to leave.

“Rude.”

Your eyes go wide. You spin back. “Luke?”

The man cocks his head like you’ve asked a trick question. “... Yeah?” It takes a drawn-out moment of you staring at him, motionless, for him to recognise your confusion. “Oh, right. Here—” he draws up his hood and the horns are missing, so he emulates them with pointed fingers— “this help?”

You lunge forwards, trapping him in a hug through the bars of his cell; you barely notice the separation. He chuckles as he hugs you back: “Miss me?”

“Yeah,” you exhale in relief, even though he was definitely setting you up for a joke. You break away from him, forcing yourself to look at anything but his face. Gods, his face. Pretend you don’t already want to look again. “Are you hurt?” you ask. “Did they—”

“Nope!” he interrupts with what sounds like a smile. “I told them everything.”

You glance up; you can’t help it.

He winks at you. “I lied. Glad you got here before they figured that out, though. Sheesh, that would not have been fun.” His hands wrap around the bars. “Can you get me out of here?” He tugs at them. “Pleeease?”

Right. “Yeah.” You glance around. You just need to find the—

“Key’s with the dead guy,” Luke says. “What a jerk, huh?”

It still feels like there are hands on your throat. “Totally.” You wander over to the body, bending down to rummage through the man’s pockets. After a brief search, you produce the key.

Luke slow claps. “My hero.”

You laugh softly as you return to the cell, unlocking the door and pushing it open. The twin strides through, giving a little bow as he passes, then stretches his arms like he’s just been set free from a much smaller cage.

“So…” He speaks in a sing-song sort of voice, sniffing the air like it’s sweeter. “Where’re boss and Kieran?”

“Um. Home?”

Luke narrows his eyes at you— vaguely resembling the slits of his missing mask. “You went rogue?”

You wince. “I did go rogue.”

You’re still being studied warily. Luke has raised an eyebrow and it’s so starkly expressive; is this a look he gives you often? You have a feeling it is. Then he shrugs and it’s gone. “That’s hot,” he quips. He crouches down beside the dead guard, lifting the body and puppeteering one of the arms to wave at you. “Look— this is gonna be you when boss finds out.”

You cross your arms. Luke laughs, dropping the man back down with a thud. “Just you and me then?” he clarifies, holding a hand out to you.

Are you supposed to know what to do with it? “You and me,” you confirm. Your hand goes out too.

Luke slaps it gently one way, then another. He entangles your fingers. Pulls back. Does a few more slaps in sporadic directions, and— is this a secret handshake? You don’t have a secret handshake.

“Nice,” he beams once the ritual is complete. “Let’s go, let's go!”

…

Luke is hanging close to the wall across from you, waiting— listening— as you both brace yourselves behind the turn of yet another corridor of the rival base. He sneaks glances around the corner.

“Anyone there?” you whisper.

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t press on, either, because it’s odd; you’d both thought you’d heard something. This isn’t your usual strategy— playing it safe. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke err on the side of caution, but he’s concentrating, even closing his eyes so he can listen harder.

You take advantage of the moment in a way you shouldn’t: letting your gaze linger on his face. Even with his hood up— shadows lowered like a veil— he’s still a stranger to you. You want to know him; you know him already. He’s been smiling at your jokes forever, but tell him one now, and it’ll be the first time.

His eyes open, meeting yours. Could he sense you watching? He grins, poking his tongue out at you.

“Stop it.”

“You stop it,” he retorts. The coast must be clear, for he comes away from the wall and rounds the corner with a spring in his gait.

You sigh as you stand to follow him. One less-enthusiastic step forward, and something snakes around your ankle. Your gaze drops like a stone, but it isn’t fast enough. You’re hauled into the air, voice failing, vision swimming as the world flips upside-down and you’re strung up from the ceiling. “Luke!” you manage in warning.

Are those his footsteps, coming back? You’re facing the wrong way and you try to lift the lower half of your body so you can reach for your ankle, but you’re already exhausted. Your muscles burn. After a few, futile inches, you give up, going limp.

There are footsteps behind you. “Oh, hey boss!” Luke exclaims.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

An unwitting pendulum: you can’t keep your body from turning, ever so slowly, until you’re staring the right way down the corridor. You can’t see much of it, though.

Sylus is in front of you, so close that you can almost feel the heat of his eyes.

“Hey, boss,” you echo reluctantly.

He says nothing, and behind him, Luke slides a gloating finger across his own throat: you’re dead! And you’re turning, still. Sylus lifts a hand to the top of your head and swivels you back to him. “What happened to that trust of yours, sweetie? Hmm?”

You half-laugh, nervous. He doesn’t seem quite as amused.

Releasing your head, he steps back with a huff of disappointment as you start a slow rotation once more. He taps a finger to his chin pensively, like you’re a masterpiece he’s convinced might be a forgery, now that he’s looking more closely. “Reckless little thing, aren’t you?” he tuts.

There’s maybe a smile, but it’s short-lived; the dark rope around your ankle whips you into the air. You shriek with shock as you lose all bearings, all vision, all sense of reality. You’re falling.

Someone catches you.

“My reckless little thing,” Luke grins, jostling you into a more secure position in his arms. “Mine.”

You want to protest, but your breath is gone.

“You can’t afford her,” Sylus speaks over his shoulder; he’s already taken the lead in guiding you out of here. Mephisto squawks somewhere up ahead, appearing in a cloud of smoke and feathers.

Luke gives a defensive hmph as he holds you a tighter. Then he smiles down at you, and though it’s new, you know it’s far from the first time, and even further from the last.

…

“Are we really doing this?” you ask Sylus sceptically.

“Lighten up, sweetie.” He clicks his fingers.

Not far from you, currently oblivious to your presence, Kieran stands at the door of your leader’s study, still waiting for an order. The air above him changes: it swirls with a dark, scarlet mist. Luke drops out of it, landing straight on his twin’s back.

“What the—” Kieran splutters, but his brother’s arms are over his shoulders, around his neck. “Get off!” he squeaks out.

“No way. I was a prisoner,” Luke chortles. “You have to be super nice to me. Carry me everywhere. Boss said so.”

“He did not!”

And with those words, Kieran flips his other half the rest of the way over his shoulder; Luke lands on the ground with an unceremonious splat. All four limbs are sprawled. “Ow!” he whines.

Sylus has already strode the rest of the way into the room. “Play nice,” he scolds as he steps over Luke, then passes by Kieran.

“Yes, boss!” they chime, stilling obediently as the older man disappears into his study. The moment the doors close behind him, Kieran throws himself down. He wrestles with Luke, both of them laughing and rolling around as they try to hurt each-other.

It makes you think of those old, vintage cartoons you used to see on TV. You can just picture the cloud of dust, the colourful stars and shapes flying with every traded punch. Idiots.

You leave them to it, slinging yourself down on a couch and closing your eyes. Gods, you want to sleep. There’s blood dried to your hands and face, but you’ll shower later. There are grazes and cuts still bleeding, but you’ll tend to them later. Everything can wait.

The room has gone quiet. Too quiet; you open your eyes.

Luke and Kieran stand in front of you ominously, their figures symmetrical. The illusion of reflection is broken by Luke’s absent mask, but his eyes are just as unreadable.

“What?” you cave.

“You went rogue,” Kieran states, and his brother is nodding gravely, like this is a very serious infraction.

You smile. “I did go rogue.” More shameless than last time. “I got a free pass, though. Luke said it was hot.”

Kieran’s mask turns to face his twin, slow and resentful. Luke shrugs. “What? It was.”

There’s an impasse: long enough to make you think they’re having some kind of secret discussion. Both twins look at you. You smile sheepishly. You don’t think you’ll ever really know the entirety of what goes on in those heads, but it’s for the best. You value your sanity.

“You went rogue,” Kieran carries on, as if his speech had never been interrupted, and his authority not just completely undercut. He moves closer, slinking down beside you, and Luke plays the part of his mirror image. “There will have to be a… punishment.”

The word is elongated for effect, and it’s remarkably similar to Kieran’s ‘ghost voice’— which you know, thanks to the time he roped you into that ‘the base is haunted!’ prank. (Sylus did not, in fact, fall for it.)

“Bring it,” you murmur, closing your eyes again. “I just stormed a whole enemy base single-handed. I think I can handle the two of—”

Your voice meanders to a stop as Kieran nuzzles against you. His mask is off; you feel the soft of his face and the bridge of his nose. His breath is light on your neck. You smile, slipping deeper into your seat and then his embrace as his arms go around you. He’s warm. Really warm.

There’s a weight— Luke’s head on your lap— and he hugs you too, arms lower around your waist. His breath tickles your stomach. You hum in contentment, running your hands through his hair.

He's safe. You're all safe.

They were never going to say thank you; it’s not in their nature. Their language isn't superficial. It isn’t words spoken aloud or feelings worn on the face�� it can’t be. A smile is too easily read by the rest of the world, but a smile behind a mask? It’s private. Reserved only for those who’ve learnt to hear it in your voice, or see it in the way your body relaxes when you hold someone you care for.

A language of tiny, intimate details.

Kieran has never nestled his face quite so closely against you. You don’t think you’ve ever known Luke go so long without talking.

#🖋rach is actually writing #luke and kieran x reader #luke and kieran #love and deepspace #platonic sylus x reader #sylus #lads #lnds #l&ds

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simp2537 · 11 months ago

Note

Aw shoot, I’ll just keep sending you requests for as long as you tolerate it then. Speaking of, what about the reader (again, male or gender neutral) being given a quest by the oracle, but they don’t choose Percy or Annabeth to accompany them on the quest. Instead, they choose two other campers they’re friendly with; the reason for this could be because the reader doesn’t want Percy or Annabeth to get put in danger, or maybe they just want a break from the two. Either way, how would they react to the reader getting ready to go off on a quest without them? It’s also once again up to you if the reader and the other two demigods are dating or not at this point :)

-🪑

Lovers Quarrel

A/n: Not sure if everything I wrote is canon but I don’t care. I wasn’t sure if you wanted Yandere so I just wrote it as normal. Hope you enjoy.😉

Warnings: Dangerous quest? Possible death implications? Anxiety and the Oracle being ominous.

Anon 🪑

All Characters are aged up to 18 plus

Percabeth x Gender-Neutral! Reader

With frantic and hasty movements Y/n stuffed their bag with clothes, money, a book Annabeth had gotten them, a small keychain Percy had found and other things. They had finally been given a quest after so long. The only issue was Y/n hadn’t chosen Annabeth or Percy.

In fact they’d chosen Lee, a son of Apollo and Charles a son of Hephaestus. Lee and Charles were decent fighters and smart in their own ways. As a child of Ares Y/n knew they’d have no issue with this quest. Their partners might disagree.

With a bag the doors to the Ares cabin slammed open and their partners marched in. Y/n winced inside, silently thanking the gods all their siblings weren’t around. Annabeth crossed her arms and leaned against their bed. Percy stopped Y/n from placing anything else in their bag.

“What is wrong with you! You can’t take Lee or Charles above us! They’re idiots!”

Annabeth groaned at Percy’s tone. Y/n stifled and pulled their hand away. Annabeth grabbed Y/n’s free hand from them.

“What Percy means to say is why wouldn’t you ask us to come with you.” Annabeth questioned. Y/n let out a long, deep breathe. Y/n kissed the back of Annabeth’s hand with a smile.

“For one, monsters find Percy easier, and for two I just…. Need some time to myself.”

No words were spoken for a while. Y/n pulled away from the pair as Percy slumped o to their bed. Had they done something wrong? Maybe they were too affectionate, children of Ares didn’t seem keen on PTA. Perhaps they’d moved to fast for Y/n.

“Are you mad at us?” Percy’s voice quivered softly as he watched Y/n place in their shoes. Y/n softly shook her head and walked over to them. Y/n took each of their hands into their own.

“I just need to be away for a little and I can’t risk it.” The pairs heads shot up.

“Risk it?”

“The Oracle said something that doesn’t sit well with me.”

“What’d she say?” Y/n didn’t answer for a minute. Y/n placed a copper cuff on wrist. The weapon her father had gifted them, it turned into a shield on command.

“The oracle said that my quest would end in a death.” Percy shot up, tightly gripping Y/n’s shoulders.

“WHAT!” Percy yelled. Annabeth moved towards them and looked up at Y/n.

“I know it’s not the best thing to pick two people I’m not super close too to accompany me on my quest cause one of us might die but…. I won’t risk one of you.”

Annabeth sighed and pulled Y/n in for a tight hug. Annabeth slipped her arms around Y/n’s waist and hurried her head into there chest. Percy hugged Y/n from behind, hiding his head in the crook in there neck.

Percy quivered slightly, clutching for dear life into Y/n. Annabeth silently breathed in Y/n’s scent.

“Promise to come back.”

“Swear it.”

Y/n nodded softly as there partners prided themselves off. They handed Y/n their bag and kiss them softly.

“I promise.”

#percabeth x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo x reader #pjo x you #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #annabeth x reader

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nav-i-nav · 9 months ago

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Actually, while we are at it, can we talk about how awful a lot of the fanbase treats Basil? My man can’t catch a break because almost everyone misinterprets him one way or another.

Where do I even start? Literally everything he does is taken the wrong way. There’s the people who characterize him as an obsessive yandere who only cares about Sunny and did everything in his power to isolate him. On the other hand, we have people who just remove one of the basic core aspects of him as a whole and make him an empty husk with no real personality.

Headacanon him however you want, but also try to understand him? I don’t know how people can say he only cares about Sunny when it’s clear he deeply appreciates his friends. He has a stronger bond with Sunny, but that doesn’t mean he’s a possessive and obsessed person who is toxic.

He definitely fucked up along the way, but his actions were never intended to hurt Sunny intentionally. He was in a panic and all he wanted was to keep his best friend safe. People constantly treat him as he’s a disgusting person for simple fact he shows mental illness signs, which is incredibly disheartening because there IS people in real life who act this way and can’t help it! What a relief it is to know people will treat me or my friends like this if we dare show an ounce of distress or panic!

Being mentally ill does not justify your actions, but this also doesn’t mean you are allowed to treat people who suffer from them like scum. People like Basil deserve to get help, to have people who support them so they can start healing. Basil clearly didn’t have that support, the only person that was there for him being his bedridden grandmother who he eventually lost.

And on the other hand, we have people who just choose to get rid of Basil’s personality altogether and characterise him as this character who is all suffering and trauma based off things that are NOT canon. It’s true that Basil’s life doesn’t exactly fit a “normal” childhood (having to live with his grandmother for unknown reasons) but that doesn’t immediately mean he is beyond traumatized? Basil is a little shy, sure, but a lot of people are. Basil used to be a smart and lively kid who loved his friends dearly. It wasn’t until AFTER the incident that he spiralled to the point he is where we see him in game.

People either disregard his trauma and paint him as a villain (let’s make one thing clear, there are NO villains in OMORI), or try to give him even more trauma for no apparent reason. All we know is that his parents aren’t really present in his life, and while that may bring some issues, from what we can see in cutscenes and the photo album, Basil lived a comfortable life surrounded by a loving family member and friends who cared about him.

You are free to explore Basil’s character however you like, but there’s a point where it no longer feels like Basil.

There is nothing wrong with showing his gentle side, just as how there’s nothing wrong to explore his unhealthy behaviour. But focusing on only one of the aspects of his entire self just turns him into a one-dimensional character with no redeemable qualities.

In my opinion, Basil is one of the best examples of a person struggling with mentally illness in media, yet people choose to ignore the complexity of his character to have either a selfish and dangerous yandere or a cute and shy femboy who’s only there to look pretty.

Write him like the mess he is. He is unstable. He is resentful, he is paranoid. That’s what makes Basil’s character so loved. That’s what makes him feel so relatable and human. Ignoring one side of his self takes away all of that. OMORI is a game about acceptance and forgiving. Why shouldn’t we apply those terms to their characters? It’s rather hypocritical for the fanbase to treat Sunny as a poor boy who only did what he did due to stress and trauma and then mark Basil as a psychopath with no redeemable features as if he wasn’t also a scared child who witnessed his very best friend push his sister down the stairs.

#navi.txt #omori analysis #omori rant #basil omori #omori basil #I’m a YAPPER today chat I’m sorry

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sleepyc63 · 2 months ago

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nightcat,, the last canon anthro scug!!! after thing i’m moving onto OCs.. then iterators... then possibly comics if i have motivation HOWEVER that is hypothetical do not count on it

story for this goober under cut :D

**** NOTICE **** Nightcat is his chosen name, Watcher is his deadname. I will not call him Watcher nor use she/her on him at all, but he transitioned in his late teens so technically that is what he would be called in his childhood. i also only decided this a few hours ago, so all previous posts call him "Watcher". i will get around to editing those, but from now on he will only be called Nightcat (or Nightwatcher. depends on his(my) mood. mostly Night or Nightcat tho).

‼️ cw for child neglect

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Nightcat was the firstborn pup of No Significant Harassment, followed by his younger sister, Hunter. Nightcat was always distant with his father, and hated how he was left to babysit his sister and essentially robbing him of a stress-free childhood. His best friend growing up was Survivor.

He was diagnosed with a disease that would slowly cause him to lose his sight, beginning in early childhood. He has worn glasses all his life. For this reason, he was always drawn to stars, as no matter how blurry his vision was, they always stood out to him.

Night was tired of being forced into a parental role for Hunter, and as soon as she was old enough to fend for herself, he started leaving her alone, similarly to NSH. He spent most of this time with his first and only girlfriend, Gourmand. When Hunter ran away, he felt awful, and tried to track her down, but it was already too late. Shortly after this, Night and Gourm broke up, and Night was left with no one.

He went off to college on his own, with nothing but student loans, a few scholarships, and prayers to the void that this could start his career. He's barely avoiding homelessness, his job at the gas station hardly keeping food on the table. He graduates college next year, though. So it's not long until he can begin his career at a space program (hopefully!!).

He's been trying to regain contact with Hunter, but she refuses to speak to him. He understands, but isn't any less hurt by her (and, his own actions). He wishes he could have friends at least, but for now, it's best to focus on his work.

---

yes, survivor, monk & nightcat all go to the same college. is it awkward? definitely. he can't wait to graduate.

@churrorat-art

#rain world #sleepys anthro au #rw nightcat #rw nightwatcher #cw neglect #ugh so so tired

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star-trek-fandom-confessions · 2 months ago

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#1145

Eugenics and genetic modification are not the same thing. The terms are not interchangeable. Eugenics is the practice of erasing perceived ‘undesirable’ traits in the gene pool. It is motivated by racism and ableism and is horrific. Genetic modification is one possible tool that eugenicist could use to achieve that end. Another tool which has actually been used by eugenicists to advance their awful goal is compulsory sterilization. This is also horrific and recognized as such - compulsory sterilization is a Crime Against Humanity in the Rome Statute. However, sterilization procedures such as tube tying and vasectomies are not practices that people generally call for to be banned, because people may want to prevent themselves from getting pregnant or from getting another person pregnant for all sorts of reasons and we recognized that people should have autonomy over their own bodies and be free to make their own reproductive choices. Consensual vasectomies and tube tying being legal in a country does not mean that country is endorsing eugenics. A country in which there is a government program of coercing or using incentives to get members groups perceived as undesirable to have their tubes tied or have vasectomies is practicing eugenics. The legality and use of tool in general does not necessarily mean that the tool is being used for eugenics. Now, let’s take that one step further with a hypothetical on genetic engineering. Imagine that we determine that if one gene was removed from the human genome, those without that gene would no longer get dementia and there were zero other impacts. Would a country that made that genetic modification procedure available for free to everyone who wanted it and the doctors performing that procedure be practicing eugenics? Now imagine that procedure didn’t work in adults or even children. It had to be administered during fetal development to be effective. Would a parent choosing to have that gene removed from their unborn child so they would never get dementia be practicing eugenics? I'm not going to weigh in on those my point is that it’s a complex issue, there are very flew easy answers available and you really have to consider motive. Eugenicists are motivated by the view that certain people are superior and other people are inferior and they want to get rid of the latter.

Applying it to Strange New Worlds, Una has specifically stated that the Illyrian motivation for genetic modification is so that they fit in with their environment, rather than terraform (this intersects another really interesting scientific ethical discussion happening around climate engineering and the potential consequences). There is no evidence in canon that Illyrians are motivated by the need to be superior or are getting rid of undesired traits. They took up modification to live on planets that would otherwise be unhospitable to them (beta canon is that their home world is no longer inhabitable even with modification due to environmental collapse outside of their control, they’re essentially environmental refugees). While Illyrians modify themselves genetically, there is no evidence that Illyrians are practicing eugenics. In the context of DS9, Bashir’s parents believed it was undesirable to have a son with intellectual disabilities. They modified him to get rid the trait they perceived as undesirable. They were practicing eugenics. In Star Trek canon, billions of people died during the Eugenics Wars. When it comes to the law, it is incredibly difficult determining motive and therefore it is understandable that they banned genetic engineering as a way of stopping eugenicists and preventing a repeat. But in doing so, they accidentally created a legal regime in which entire families could be arrested. The point Star Trek has been making lately with the Illyrian storyline is sometimes shit is complicated, and that a law that is meant to protect, can also sometimes harm and we need to be able to listen, think and consider complex situations. And I also hate myself a bit for writing this. I should just be able to ignore all the terrible takes and ‘I haven’t watched but…’ people.

#confession 1145 #two parts confession #star-trek-fandom-confessions #star trek #strange new worlds #critical confession #episode tag: Ad Astra Per Aspera #Illyrians #augments #eugenics #episode tag: Doctor Bashir I Presume #deep space nine

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stellar-constellations · 5 months ago

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Star Patient: Chapter 7 (FINISHED SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), descriptions of self-harming, accusations of cheating, child death, death of major and minor characters, OC's are used throughout the story for plot and depth, reader is in denial and paranoid, toxic family dynamics, perversive thoughts, reader is bipolar (not saying that in a quirky way, like literally bipolar), religious comparisons, light mention of demons, stalkers, possibly more to add.

Inaccurate canon-timeline and setting (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents). They also live in America (because I wasn't aware they lived in Europe prior to this series).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 15,100+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, current chapter, chapter 8, final chapter.

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

The sound of holy hymns filled the tall church, the painting of a man looming over (Y/N) as she avoided the male’s eyes. Religious paintings just always looked creepy, their eyes just always followed you. What was even more creepier is making prolonged eye contact with the same boy for two minutes now.

Bright brown eyes stared at her own for 120 seconds now, 115 seconds too long for a normal gander to be. Perhaps he was just looking at the people behind her? Or maybe she has something on her face? Dear God, please don’t let it be that he can hear just how awful she sounds when singing. It was like her voice was a sin to this holy choir.

(Y/N) finally broke eye contact with the male, deciding to look back at the painting of the sacred male. Even he wasn’t as creepy as that boy’s staring was, whatever his name was.

The church reeked of burning incense and an old lady’s strong floral perfume. It almost hurt having her mother and some strange next to her singing—practically screaming—into her ears while she did her best to memorize the lyrics. It was hard to remember what came after “I’ve been set free” when all she could think about was being set free to the food trucks outside calling her name for lunch.

Finally, the song ended as she sung the finally sentence.

“You are forever mine.”

What a creepy thing to say to anyone, to any god or not.

(Y/N) stretched her limbs, earning herself a swat to her arm as her mother whispered for her to fix her dress before it rides up on her. She smoothed down her dress skirt, reaching behind and fluffing the white bow sewn to the dark blue dress.

She was excited to go eat some food, then get out of these damn flats that kept pinching her toes. She watched as people filed out of the church, making her eyes meeting bright brown ones as they stared at her through the crowd.

Has he even looked away once during this whole session?

“Hey, maybe he likes you?” Lola suggested, lounging on the library couch, taking up most of the space as her arm draped over the arm rest, her legs lying on (Y/N)’s thighs.

“God, I hope not…” (Y/N) groaned, tilting her head back to hit the couch cushion just to be a bit more dramatic. “I don’t even know his name. That’s grounds for instant rejection.”

“Well, is he cute?” Lola questioned, curious as she watched (Y/N) copy notes from her computer onto her notebook.

“I mean… I dunno? I think?” (Y/N) shrugged. “Gosh, Lo. You know I don’t ever notice that. Looks aren’t everything, you know?”

“Well, my future husband is definitely gonna have brown hair, brown eyes to match and a dashing, symmetrical face." Lola smirked.

“Please, you’re asking too much. Your face isn’t even symmetrical.” Annabelle scoffed, sitting on the harsh library carpets.

“Shut up! I’m gonna get laser surgery for this mole when I have enough money!” Lola whined, hitting Annabelle upside the head.

“I meant your nose, dummy!” Annabelle hissed, cradling her head where she’s been hit. "But that too!"

“Jerk!” Lola exclaimed, going to hit Annabelle once more, but Annabelle was quick enough to catch her wrist. “Stop touching me, Anna!”

“Then you stop hitting me!” Annabelle retorted as their hands wrestled with one another.

“Hey, hey! Stop! You’re messing up my notes!” (Y/N) hissed, hitting her shoulder against Lola’s.

“Stop, that’s not fair. You’re double-teaming!” Lola whined.

The school bell rung, prompting the three to halt their fight. (Y/N) packed up her notebook and computer with a sigh.

“Damn it… I didn’t get to finish my notes.” (Y/N) complained, throwing her backpack strap over her shoulder.

“I don’t know how you do it, girl. Being a nurse sounds like it’s such a drag, having to kiss up to everyone’s ass.” Lola sighed, looking at her hands to make sure her nail polish didn’t get ruined during their tussle. “Ah, damn it, Annabelle! You chipped my nail!”

“Which one?” Annabelle questioned, looking over at Lola’s yellow nails.

“This one.” Lola smirked, holding up her middle finger.

“You little—“

(Y/N) yelped, her body hitting the wall as her legs gave out from the unexpected force, knocking her to the ground. Two hands grabbed the collar of her blazer, pulling her right back up to her feet as they cornered her against the wall.

“Was it you?” a male spoke, his fists shaking with anger as his green eyes met (Y/N)’s.

“Hey! Hands off her, Ben!” Annabelle spat out, her hand touching the male’s shoulder.

“Bud out, I’m talking with the freak!” Ben hissed, shrugging her hand off his shoulder. “Was it you?” he repeated, his eyes glaring back at (Y/N).

“I can’t confirm anything if you don’t tell me, moron.” (Y/N) retorted, annoyed as she tried to pry his hands off her.

An uncomfortable feeling grew inside her stomach at the close proximity they shared, the tension downright suffocating as she resisted the urge to puke.

Dear stomach, don’t let me vomit on him… I’ll never go to school again. (Y/N) prayed to her stomach.

“Did you steal my wallet?” he finally spoke. “I had a three hundred dollars in cash and two gift cards, did you steal them?!”

“Lay off, dude. She was with us this morning!” Lola spoke.

“Yeah, I didn’t steal anything.” (Y/N) huffed, finally prying his hands off her blazer’s collar.

“I swear to God, if it was you I’ll kill you.” Ben spat, his finger jabbing into her sternum. “You’re a freak, just like your father.” He spoke, before storming off down the school hallways.

“What an asshole.” Lola scoffed.

“People like that shouldn’t be let loose into the public.” Annabelle growled, before looking at (Y/N). “You okay?”

“I’m just fine and dandy. Everything’s intact.” (Y/N) muttered, dusting off her blazer and skirt. “It’s not like he stabbed me or anything, so I’m fine.”

“Jeez, girl. You really need to be more… phased? Like, get pissed off at him! Punch him! Kick him in the balls!” Lola encouraged.

“Why would I waste my time on such pointless things…?” (Y/N) sighed, subconsciously picking at her nails. “I mean, Ben’s been doing this crap since middle school.”

“He doesn’t have any right to treat you like that!” Annabelle huffed. “If you won’t kick him in the balls, I will.”

“Can we not talk about Ben’s balls?” (Y/N) whined, a bit embarrassed at this stupid topic. “Just forget it, guys. I mean, this is senior year. We’re going to be graduating in three months, then I’ll never see him again so the problem will be solved.”

“The Almighty Lord blessed you with something I don’t have; patience.” Lola sighed, fanning her face exaggeratedly to show how heated she was about the matter.

“The offer is still on the table if you want me to—“

“No.” (Y/N) interrupted Annabelle, who just sent a pouting glare her way.

Annabelle was a short, black haired girl with brown eyes and a serious passion for weightlifting. She even won an award for the best high school female-weightlifter in the state, being able to carry Annabelle was (Y/N)’s best friend since pre-school. They met in the sand box, where a boy stomped out (Y/N)’s sandcastle, so Annabelle dumped sand in his hair. That sand was in his hair for at least a couple days—it looked like lice to where the caregivers had to inspect and comb through everyone’s hair to make sure there wasn’t a lice that would soon infect other kids.

They met Lola during their first year of middle school. Lola came into the year late as a new girl. She had bleached blonde hair with pink highlights in them (her natural hair color is unknown since she’s been dying it since she was six, not even in her photo gallery does she have a picture of her natural hair).

Lola hit it off with Annabelle instantly, the two meeting in after school’s photography club—which is the cover name. In actuality, it’s mostly just a place for friends to hang out after school and lie to their parents about doing important school stuff; however, the club does take pictures of pep assemblies and football games for the yearbook (albeit half of the photos are crappy and extremely unflattering).

The two girls are always begging (Y/N) to join the club, (Y/N)’s always rejected because she’s studying for college and to keep her college scholarship for a extremely well-liked nursing academy. After graduating that academy as a nurse, she can continue studying and work up the ranks to become a pediatrician!

So she has no time to be fooling off inside a club. She didn’t have that time as she did back in middle school. Well, she was practically a shell of a person.

(Y/N) got hit with a large wave of depression. She’s not quite sure why it just suddenly came up on her. Maybe it was because of the abuse she suffered as a child, maybe it was because of the bullying she would receive at school because of who her father was, or maybe it was because she didn’t have a good personality or looks. Whatever it was, it weighed her down for months, making it hard to get out of bed, hard to shower, hard to eat, hard to brush her teeth. Everything ached with pain. She didn’t know what hurt more; her brain or her heart? Annabelle and Lola were there for her though. They would encourage her to eat a little, to step outside for a bit, to shop for new clothes that would make her feel comfortable. Even after multiple suicide attempts, they never blamed her for how she felt, and they never gave up on her. Maybe the only reason she quit dying was because of them.

“Hey, the bell is gonna ring in a minute.” Lola pointed out, holding her phone as she stared at the time, her 2008’s preppy Hello Kitty aesthetic wallpaper staring at her.

“Damn.” Annabelle sighed, disappointed as she rubbed her neck. “Well, see you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

The two girls still had club after school, so they’ll be seeing each other. After lunch, (Y/N) doesn’t have any classes with them, so lunch is her last chance to see her friends before leaving school.

“Stay shining, star girl!” Lola spoke, sending (Y/N) her own starry smile as she referenced (Y/N)'s star hairlip, her lips coated in a light transparency of pink strawberry lipgloss.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick. If I’m late to class or not be damned.” (Y/N) smiled, waving them off as she parted ways with them.

(Y/N) glided down the hallway, before reaching the bathroom, pushing open the door and immediately making a dash to the toilet without even bothering to close the stall door. She dropped to her knees, balancing herself by placing her hands on the walls (so she wouldn’t touch the dirty toilet) and puked.

She had been holding that in ever since Ben slammed her up against that wall and shouted at her. The scene was absolutely terrifying to her, being trapped so close to an aggressive male like that did not feel good in the slightest.

How the hell do romance protagonists go through that? (Y/N) questioned herself, before another wave of nausea hit her as she thought about earlier, prompting her to lean over and puke once more.

Her father taught her many things in life; to raise a chicken and slaughter a chicken, to ride a horse and clean horseshoes, to tell the difference between ripe and unripe fruits, and to never trust a boy.

“Boys are disgusting creatures.” He would say.

“You should never trust a boy.” He would say.

“Boys only care about their satisfaction and pleasure. Everything about you is irrelevant.” He would say.

But men and boys are different. What makes a boy a boy is that they’re stupid, immature, and selfish. A man is someone who sacrifices themself for their family, and treats his wife and daughter with respect and kindness.

How can you tell the difference between a man and a boy if it’s not puberty that separates them? How do you know until before it’s too late?

Truth is, her father has always been distrustful of men in general—though he’s never explained why. She has a feeling it’s because of his upbringing. Maybe he grew up in a bad neighborhood, or maybe he had an abusive father; whatever it was, he didn’t want (Y/N) knowing about it.

But even though he hates boys with a passion that rivals the Greek Goddess of Passion Aphrodite, sometimes he doesn’t always act like a man.

There’s been moments where he’s screamed, punched holes inside the walls, been gone for nights after a time, on a very rare chance break stuff. Sometimes he remembers the episodes, sometimes he doesn’t. When he does remember them, he cries and apologizes, hugging (Y/N)’s mother Rose and her. He cries about how sorry he was, and how he doesn’t mean to overreact, and how he begs them not to leave because of his problem.

Rose will never leave; she likes the familiarity of her home town and the memories of the farm. (Y/N) knows she’ll never leave the farm.

The farm is extremely important to the town. It provides lots of the local strawberries for bakeries and jams. It provides the church parties to have their famous loaded mashed potatoes and potato bread. It provides Rose’s pockets with money in cold hard cash. The farm is so damn rich that it even regularly transported goods to three different states nearby.

Rose is sitting on a hill of riches supported by her family’s farm of 120 acres all the way on the edge of the small, close-knit town. The farm was passed down in Rose’s family for three generations now. The farm is so important that every inheritor must only have one child, that way the children can’t fight over the farm when the parent dies.

(Y/N) is expected to have a single child too, her mother has drilled that into her head enough. Rose always babbles on about how (Y/N) will inherit the farm when she dies. Her daughter must not be a whore and spread her legs for any boy; he must be a farmer, he must be her husband, and they must only have one child.

Rose is extremely serious about the farm, despite it being farmhands who tend to the farm. Rose doesn’t help out, she decided to become a nurse for some more money.

People think “Oh, Rose is so good, but her husband Frank is just a monster” but in actuality Rose is more of a monster than (Y/N) is.

(Y/N) spent the early years of her life locked in her damn room because of that witch. (Y/N) was forced to starve for hours to even days at a time while Frank laid unaware of what was going on to his daughter. Frank was consistently discriminated against, and constantly on his feet burning and cutting his fingers off in the auto shop, working grueling hours from open to closed because of mandatory overtime (which was actually just to drive the poor bastard out of down, or at least make him suffer for his condition “the Devil himself” gave him).

Frank had no idea the abuse and neglect (Y/N) received. (Y/N) wasn’t even aware it was abuse because she grew up like that ever since she was potty-trained.

(Y/N)’s early years revolved around watching TV, sleeping, and crying. Well, at least she had water she would drink out of the bathroom sink.

Rose spent the time working while (Y/N) was locked up, but it wasn’t uncommon for her to shove (Y/N) in that dreadful dark room just for her to neglect her duties as a parent. Anything to get out of cooking, cleaning, or spending bonding time with her daughter.

Another wave of nausea hit (Y/N) as she vomited once more. Her throat burned from her stomach acid and stomach enzymes. Her lungs hurt trying to breathe whilst her heart slammed against her rib cage. Her ears were ringing and her eyes had tears in them.

A flash and a camera shutter got her attention, causing her to spin her head around to look at the source, only for another shutter to echo in the bathroom walls as she was blinded by a bright light.

“Looks like the freak is self-purging.” A girl laughed. “This has to at least go viral on some platform. Not that you’re much to look at though.”

(Y/N) groaned, her throat aching from the vibration as she closed her eyes, cursing herself for not shutting the stall door.

“Y-you got it wrong…” (Y/N) muttered, meeting the girl’s blue eyes.

Kate’s had it out for (Y/N) for who knows how long. Kate’s been more of a bully than Ben has, and for longer too. Kate’s dad works with (Y/N)’s father Frank, and they don’t get on good terms (either because of her father’s disorder or because of Frank being given Kate’s dad’s hours for “mandatory overtime” only Frank has to do). Maybe because Kate’s dad hates (Y/N)’s father, Kate hates (Y/N)?

(Y/N)’s eyes glanced over at the girls who were with Kate. Jen and Shell; though their real names were Jenny and Shelly. They were sisters, but honestly they’re pretty irrelevant in (Y/N)’s eyes. She just couldn’t bother to care enough about them since they didn’t speak much. Their current goal in life is to piggyback off of Kate, but maybe in the future they’ll mature and go their own separate paths—that at least make’s (Y/N) a little happy for change.

“I wasn’t throwing up food. You took this out of context…” (Y/N) muttered, wiping her mouth with toilet paper.

“Right… looks like…” Kate took a few steps to the stall, standing behind (Y/N), making uncomfortable shivers crawl up her spine. “Looks like the cafeteria pizza. What? Are you saving it for dinner tonight?” Kate snarked before smiling. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were starving yourself. Everyone knows you tried to kill yourself—I think that's the best idea you've had in your miserable life."

In a small town like this, gossip gets around quick. One of her doctors or nurses were probably a parent to one of the kids here, so they let something slip. It breaches hospital code in keeping patient's confidential, but in a small town like this, there's not much consequences.

A flame of annoyance flickered in (Y/N) eyes, a boiling pit in her stomach. She stood up, dusting the rocks and dirt off her knees. She looked at Kate with distain, her eyes flickering towards Kate’s phone.

She could throw the stupid plastic flip-phone into the toilet and flush it down, but she decided against it. There were three girls against herself, so the odds of winning a fight are not in her favor at the moment. Besides, (Y/N)'s trapped inside the stall, so her escape options are limited in case she does start a fight. She could bulldoze her way between the three girls, but then again, that's three girls. She can't really crawl under the stall because someone can just grab her leg and pull her right back—so she's at a disadvantage to win a fight.

“We’re late for class.” (Y/N) sighed. “I recommend getting to class soon, otherwise Mr. Jones will throw a fit.

Kate glared at (Y/N) as she walked past them, muttering the smart words of “stupid bitch…”

(Y/N) made it out of the bathroom safely, and without a fight too.

Let them post that photo. (Y/N) thought, her footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. It’s not gonna be the end of the world. I’ve had worse.

I’ve had worse.

That’s always been the same stupid excuse she’s used whenever someone bad happens to her in life. She just can’t accept that she’s allowed to be angry, or sad, or afraid of anything; it’s always “I’ve had worse.”

She could fall down a set of stairs and ruin her science project she’s spent a month on, 70 bucks down the drain, but “I’ve had worse. At least I’m not admitted in a hospital room again.”

She could break her arm falling off one of her horse’s, but “I’ve had worse, at least I’m not starving.”

When will it be worse? What’s gonna top the next thing?

Because eventually, there’s gonna be something worse. There’s always something worse for (Y/N).

A notification pops up on her phone, prompting (Y/N) to check it.

“Online transfer: +$300”

“What the…?” she muttered, confused.

A minute later, another notification popped up.

“Withdrawal: -$300”

Ah, it must be one of her parents. Her parents has access to her banking accounts and information, so one of them must’ve accidentally sent money to the wrong account and quickly withdrew the payment.

She goes back to her classroom, receiving a stink eye from the teacher, Mr. Jones.

Mr. Jones also wasn’t a fan of (Y/N), well, more so her father. During the summer enrollment, you got to check out your classes and meet your teachers. Frank was absolutely livid to see a male as (Y/N)’s teacher. He was knocking down chairs and cussing a storm that the principal had to be brought down and threatened to call the cops if Frank didn’t leave.

It’s a miracle (Y/N) didn’t get expelled with some shitty excuse or something because of that scandal. Maybe that’s because this high school was the only one in their small town, and (Y/N) was about to graduate soon, so there would’ve been no point in trying to destroy her education when she’s so close to leaving.

“Well, look who decided to show up.” Mr. Jones spoke, placing his dry eraser marker down, halting the learning of the classroom. “Wanna tell the class what was so important that you just had to skip the first ten minutes of my class?”

(Y/N) resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She missed the days where elementary teachers would get down on your level and whisper to you so you wouldn’t get embarrassed in front of the class.

Or maybe she just wants to be coddled like a child…

“I’m sorry, sir. I had a period problem.” (Y/N) lied.

She had no shame or embarrassment, not with lying, and not talking about her body functions either. She was a human with a uterus, so if the teacher had a problem with then, then the school will too (or, at least they should).

“Oh.” Mr. Jones scoffed, not entirely convinced. “Nice save. But if it happens again next week, I’ll be onto you.”

Yeah, he wouldn’t dare go against the teaching board. Even if he did, the student body of females would protest; (Y/N) may not be the most popular, but when it comes to woman functions, girls got each other’s back.

Or they should.

“Go take your seat.” Mr. Jokes spoke.

(Y/N) walked down the row of students, jumping over Ben’s foot as he tried to trip her. She made it to her desk safely in the back of the class.

Mr. Jones assigned the seats, perhaps he assigned her in the back so he wouldn’t see her father and be reminded of her father. Or maybe he just doesn’t like her in general.

(Y/N) sat down in her seat, confused to see someone had taken the desk next to her. That desk was always empty due to how small the student body was. It was a small town after all, so there were always empty seats in classrooms.

She recognized those brown eyes—it was the boy from her church.

She was surprised. He was never in her class before until now.

She decided to look away before he caught her staring, but he was watching her to begin with, ever since she walked into the classroom.

“Hey, I’ve seen you around before.” The boy spoke, looking at her. “You’re (Y/N), right?”

Damn it. She has to talk with a boy? Out of all the other females around?

“Um… yeah…” (Y/N) nodded awkwardly. “How do you know my name?”

“We go to church together.” He smiled. “I’m Ren. Ren Itami.”

“Japanese?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yeah. My parents moved here from Japan when they had me.” The boy, Ren, nodded.

“Cool…” (Y/N) muttered, figuring the conversation was done, before Ren spoke again.

“I just transferred classes today. My other teacher wasn’t good at teaching in a way I could understand, so it was only hindering my education.” Ren explained.

“I see…” (Y/N) hummed, not too interested in what else he had to say.

So that’s why he’s in her class now. Still, she doesn’t want to talk with him. Just talking with this guy gives her the chills, but she just can’t understand why.

A month or two has passed, (Y/N)’s not too sure how long it’s been actually, days always seem to blend together now. She goes to school, does her chores on the farm, then studies for college.

She’s been busting her ass for a nursing school she’s been dreaming to go to; the best news is that in freshmen year, the school reached out to her after she scored top grades in her biology and health classes. They offered her a fully-paid scholarship, including dorm renting and free cafeteria food!

With a scholarship like that, you’re damn right she’s studying hard.

It was passing period, the hallways bustling with students as people made their way from class to class. Some kids stopped and stared at (Y/N), much to her annoyance.

Her father had an episode in town again, muttering something about being followed by a man. He filed police reports, but they ignored him per usual as this was a case they’ve reported about before, only to be a waste of time as there’s no evidence to prove it.

Frank got angry at his reports being ignored, so he stared yelling inside the police department, which quickly remained in him spending overnight in jail until he’s calmed down and no longer a threat to himself or others. He didn’t get any charges filed against him due to his medical condition, so he got lucky.

Of course, if Frank is a nut show, then his daughter must be a nut show too. That’s the logic around this town.

Well, at least Lola and Annabelle didn’t think like that. They were (Y/N)’s true friends.

“I swear, nobody can mind their damn business anymore.” Annabelle gruffed, more annoyed about the situation than (Y/N) was.

“It’s fine, Annabelle. Things just happen.” (Y/N) spoke.

“Hey, it’s seriously not fine.” Lola scoffed. “You shouldn’t be treated like this. It’s not like you control what your dad does.”

“If anyone messes with you, I’ll punch them.” Annabelle smiled.

“Don’t bother…” (Y/N) hummed. “We have like… one more month until graduation. There’s no point.”

But alias, problems always seem to occur for (Y/N). As she walked down the hallway, a shoulder bumped into her roughly, causing her to stagger before turning around.

“Freak.” Ben sang, smirking as he walked by her.

“What’s his problem all the time?” Lola scoffed, glaring at the boy.

(Y/N) let out a sigh to calm her nerves, annoyed, before moving past it—but Ben wasn’t just ready to move on.

“Hey. I’m talking to you, freak.” Ben scoffed, walking back towards her.

“Leave me alone, asshole.” (Y/N) hissed.

“Make me.” Ben challenged, pushing her.

“Hey, fuck off!” Lola exclaimed, to which Ben ignored her.

“Stop. It.” (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth, and for once, pushing him back harder.

“What the—“ Ben huffed, surprised, before he quickly pushed her with more force.

“Ben, st—“ Annabelle was cut off, shocked as (Y/N) threw a punch to his face.

“Fuck you, Ben!” (Y/N) exclaimed, shoving him away from her by using her shoulder.

Her legs shook, adrenaline and fear pumping through her veins, her fists clenching and unclenching as she realized what she just did. She’s done it now.

Ben touched the side of his face, shocked as it swelled, before his fist balled up. A crowd formed around them, watching to see what will go down, holding their flip phones in their hands.

Before he could land a punch, some stepped out of the crowd and grabbed Ben’s arm, pinning him up against the wall.

“You shouldn’t hit a lady.” The third party spoke.

“Ren?” (Y/N) questioned, surprised.

“Get off me!” Ben barked, squirming under Ren’s hold.

Ren had appeared so fast, it was like he was here the whole time.

“T-thanks.” (Y/N) spoke, taking a few shaky steps backwards, before forcing her away out of the crowd of students, making her way to the nearest trash can and throwing up.

“Ugh… damn it…” she muttered, knowing she was done for, for real this time as people recorded her.

Yep. Sounds about right for (Y/N), just her luck.

She scanned the crowd, unsure exactly what she was looking for. Her eyes met his bright brown ones, before she closed her own.

I really hate being alive… she thought.

. (Y/N) had got called into the principal’s office later that day along with Ben. Some other students were there to recall the events and explain their side of the story, including Ren.

It really didn’t matter who was at fault, both of them got suspended under the excuse: “We don’t condone any sort of violence during school premises.”

You can just say that you don’t want the backlash from the bully’s parents and their friends. (Y/N) thought to herself, but she kept that thought in the hatch.

The walk back home hurt. The whole day she had trembling legs and shaky hands, it seemed every hour she was near a trash can throwing up. She was severely dehydrated, light headed, and really just wanted to go home and cry in the shower.

It was a hot day, making the walk home worse. Because of how big her family’s farm was, she lived on the outskirts of town, making her walk longer. The town didn’t have any public transportation due to how small the town was, the buses would’ve clogged up all the morning rush hour traffic where adults try to get to work on time, so buses weren’t a thing in their town.

There was sweat dripping down her forehead, her back uncomfortably wet as her backpack dragged down her posture, and she wanted nothing more but to just give up. Give up walking, give up life—practically the same thing.

She made it to her house and unlocked the gate, seeing a figure sitting in her family’s rocking chair on the porch. The figure noticed her, before it stood up, running towards her.

(Y/N) removed her backpack straps and threw it on the ground, before running and meeting the figure, engulfing them in a hug.

“Papa.” She whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes, the sun burning the top of her head.

“Oh, (Y/N). I got a call from the school. What were you thinkin'? Fightin' against a boy? You know boys are stronger than girls!” Frank spoke, quickly letting go of her as he looked at her hands and face for any marks.

“I’m fine, he didn’t hurt me.” (Y/N) spoke. “But he started it! He pushed me first so I pushed back!”

“He touched you?” Frank gasped. “What a freak! Boys nowadays need to learn some manners and keep their hands to themselves.”

“I was so scared, Papa.” (Y/N) sniffled, wiping the tears and snot off her face.

“Oh, I bet.” Frank sighed, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go inside. There’s a fresh pitcher of tea waitin’ for you.”

(Y/N) nodded, picking her backpack up off the ground and following him back inside the house.

Her mother sat in her loveseat, watching the news on the TV. She turned her attention at the door, before motioning for (Y/N) to come over and sit on the couch across from her.

“Frank, those blueberries should be in season to now. Could you go harvest them?” Rose ordered, finding an excuse for Frank to leave.

“Sorry, sport.” Frank sighed, patting (Y/N)’s shoulder, before walking out the door.

“I got a call from your principal today…” Rose started, crossing her legs. “Do you wanna explain yourself?”

“I’m sorry.” (Y/N) started. “I got in a fight with Ben in the hallway. He pushed me, so I pushed him back, so he pushed me harder and I just got upset and punched him…”

“Jeez, (Y/N)… What are you? A animal?” Rose scoffed. “You’re a lady. You don’t hit people. And you especially don’t under the eyes of the Lord. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“I was just defending myself! He’s picked on me before!” (Y/N) defended.

“So? You go to the principal’s office and report it.” Rose retorted.

“But Ma, they don’t listen to me. They don’t like our family.” (Y/N) spoke. “They think we’re cursed. Or were sinners in another life!”

“That’s nonsense. Everyone loves us. Everyone loves our products. We’re devoted followers of our Lord. How could they not love us?” Rose snapped, not seeming to believe it.

“It’s because we’re freaks, Ma!” (Y/N) exclaimed, hitting her hands on her lap. “We’re major freaks! They constantly talk bad about us! We’re always invited last for our community gatherings! Papa is always getting mandatory overtime but no payment, yet everyone else doesn’t have that overtime! We’re constantly being sneered at in public! The kids at my school harass me, but you don’t care because it doesn’t affect you!”

“(Y/N), you can go to your—“

“Do you know what they say about you, Mama?” (Y/N) questioned, her fists shaking as she spoke. “They think you’re a selfish, narcissistic, and hypocritical woman. They think you sold your soul to the devil to inherit your parents’ wealth.”

“Who?” Rose gasped, her jaw dropped.

“Everyone.” (Y/N) hissed. “They think Papa’s a freak because they don’t understand him. They don’t know what he’s going through. They think I’m a freak because I’m your daughter!”

“Well, you know what? I’ve had enough of you. You’ve been acting like a freak lately!” Rose spoke, standing up from her seat. “What’s with you? Is it that college? Is that college stressin’ you out with your studies? I told you that the city isn’t for you but you never listen to me! Is it your father’s stupid paranoid delusions? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t listen to him!”

“He knows more than you do!” (Y/N) shouted. “And that college is the only thing in my life that will keep me away from you!”

“Go to your room, now! Go straight to bed! Don’t even expect supper tonight!” Rose shouted back, her voice louder—it was always louder compared to hers.

(Y/N) had no problem with that, it’s not like that wasn’t her first time being forced to skip a meal. Besides, there's nothing too great about pre-packaged meals. Rose rarely cooks, and Frank is either always working in the auto shop or on the farm. It's been that way since she was a kid, so school lunches were basically a miracle for her when she entered school. Breakfast and lunch five days a week? That's better than no meals every day of the week! Or at least one every other day.

She quickly took her backpack with her and walked to her room, resisting the urge to slam the door shut. She shut her door (gently) and walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower faucet and stripping off her school uniform. She sat down on the shower floor, feeling more tears well up in her eyes.

“This fucking sucks…” she gritted through her teeth.

She sat there for some time, before finally getting up and washing up. She dried herself off, before picking out some pajamas and changing into them.

She walked back to her room and sat down on her bed for a while. She was tired after today’s events, all that crying and puking and yelling really got to her. She should at least drink some water, but right now she really couldn’t be bothered.

There was a knock on her door, before the door opened.

“Hey, kid. You doin’ okay?” Frank questioned, popping his head into the room.

“No… not really…” (Y/N) sighed.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he questioned.

(Y/N) took a moment to think, before nodding. “Yeah. I think so.”

Frank walked into the room, sitting down on the bed. He sat down on the edge, waiting patiently for (Y/N) to talk.

“I-I just feel so out of place…” (Y/N) sighed. “I mean, I don’t even know what I do but they hate me, and I don’t know why. I mean, I know I’m not the most prettiest or—“

“Hey, stop that.” Frank spoke up. “Don’t beat yourself up like that. You’re one of the prettiest girls out there, and that’s not just cause you’re my daughter.” Frank explained. “You’re a (L/N). We (L/N)’s may have shit luck, but you know what? We always get back up. And we know what’s true and what’s not.”

“You don’t have to be pretty to be liked. You don’t have to be anything for people to like you. It’ll come naturally over time as you meet some great people.” Frank explained. “Problem isn’t you, it’s society. You shouldn’t have to change yourself to fit societal norms, and you shouldn’t have to beat yourself up over it either. We just live in a shitty town with shitty people; but that doesn’t define society as a whole. There’s still good out there.”

“You know what they say: everythin' happens for a reason. Right now, you’re just waitin' for your moment to shine, and when you shine; you’ll be a damn star.” Frank smiled, patting her back.

“Thank you, Papa.” (Y/N) smiled.

“Now, is there anything else making you upset?” Frank questioned.

(Y/N) took a second to think about it. Everything he’s been saying was right; it’s not that she’s bad, it’s that the people in her town are so close-minded, judging people because they don’t match their beliefs or act a little different from others.

“Would you be upset if I left the farm?” (Y/N) questioned. “I’ve talked about it before, about getting a scholarship to this really good med school, but would it make you mad that I’d be leaving the farm behind? Leaving you and mama behind?”

“(Y/N), there should never be a time in your life where you have to choose between your happiness and someone else’s.” Frank spoke. “You should always choose yourself first.”

“But wouldn’t that just be that selfish?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Are you kiddin'? You’re leavin' behind thousands, maybe even millions, of dollars this farm gained over the generations!” Frank laughed. “That’s pretty selfless if you ask me.”

“Ah, you know what I mean, Papa.” (Y/N) chuckled, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Think of it this way. You’re goin' to wake up to yourself, you’re goin' to shower with yourself, you’re goin' to eat meals with yourself, you’re goin' to go to work with yourself, take spa days, go shoppin', run errands, and go back to sleep in the same bed—all with yourself. Everyone else in life comes and goes; coworkers, friends, lovers, even me.” Frank explained. “Put yourself first because it’s your life. There should never be a period in your time where you feel the need to sacrifice your happiness. If you’re not happy, you’re not livin'; you’re existin'. It’s plain and simple. It's only selfish if you're in a position to help someone in need, but you don't help them despite bein' stable to."

“I… guess you’re right, yeah.” (Y/N) nodded, smiling.

“But if you plan to have kids, then you’re gonna have to make sacrifices. You can’t just make some kids and expect that to be over, there’s a lot more than just that.” Frank chuckled. “But hey, that’s a whole other story for when you’re older. Don’t you dare be tryin' to get pregnant at your age.”

“I won’t, Papa. I promise.” (Y/N) giggled, shaking her head at her father’s antics.

She surprisingly felt a lot better now. Life didn’t feel so bad anymore, who knew a little speech was all she needed to feel better.

But in realty, it was really just her father sacrificing his positive energy to give to her. He may not be the ideal father, and he may not remember everything he does or remain in control of himself sometimes, but she knew this was her father Frank—not the monster or the sinner her town thought he was.

“I heard your mom isn’t letting you eat dinner, I can sneak some in here?” Frank suggested.

“Nah, I’m really not that hungry.” (Y/N) shook her head.

I might just throw it up anyways… she thought.

“Just making sure.” Frank chuckled. “Oh, hey. You wouldn’t happen to know where that hole in the face came from, would you?”

“What hole?” (Y/N) inquired.

“While I was harvestin' those blueberries your mom told me to fetch, I noticed a square hole in the fence, at the bottom of the fencin'. It looks like some wire pliers or somethin'.” Frank spoke. “I told your damn mom we should invest in some sturdier fencin', but she’s so persistent in wantin' that cheap fencin' that we can easily move out of the way in case we expand the farm more.” He sighed.

“No, I wasn’t aware there was a hole in the fence.” (Y/N) spoke honestly, surprised.

“Ah, must be someone tryna deal my damn chickens. Nobody is takin' Charlotte from me.” Frank huffed, crossing his arms.

Charlotte was practically Frank’s pet hen. Charlotte was born in domestically at her farm, she was smaller than the other chicks and had a white fluffy spot on her back. Charlotte has some serious attitude for something that’s easy to fry up.

“I’ll just go to town and replace the fencin' tomorrow. I don’t want any damn coyotes or foxes trying to get ‘em.” Frank sighed, before standing up from the edge of the bed.

“Thank you for talking with me, Papa. I needed it.” (Y/N) smiled.

“Hey, it’s the least I can do.” Frank smiled, before ruffling her hair, causing her to giggle.

“Night, sport. Just remember, I’m proud of you no matter what you do in life.” Frank smiled, opening her bedroom door.

(Y/N) smiled at the reassurance. “I love you, Papa.”

“I love ya too, (Y/N).” He smiled. “Get some rest now.” He spoke, before closing the door behind him.

(Y/N) crawled under her covers and smiled, glad to have talked about her feelings. She didn’t feel as alone as she did earlier.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the cicadas outside, and the snapping twigs of a bunny or raccoon nearby her window.

(Y/N) woke up feeling a bit more happier and relaxed than usual. She at least woke up in a good mood, the effects of last night's talk still lingering with her as she stood up. She did a small stretch to get her blood pumping, before walking over to her drawers to find clothes for herself. She opened up her drawers to grab a pair of socks for today, before feeling something weird.

What is that?

She pulled out a paper folded in fours, but her heart dropped when she saw red splotches on the piece. She quickly folded open the paper, reading the contents.

"My love, how utterly divine you are. I've taken care of that nuisance for you, are you proud of me? I couldn't stand how he touches you, how he wishes to harm you, when a beauty like you should be absolutely adored. He won't be a problem for you anymore, nobody will ever be a problem to you. You're like an angel, and all I wish to do is protect you from the evil in this world. I want to serve you and be your faithful prophet, your only follower. You saved me, let me save you now. See you soon, my love."

It was printed sugar paper with typed letters printed on it, and dried blood spots on the paper. That wasn't in her drawer last night, someone broke into her house.

It felt like she stopped breathing, a ringing inside her ears as her head felt fuzzy. She dropped the bloodied paper, taking a few shaky steps, before running to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet.

You would think she'd have nothing in her stomach to throw up, but you'd be wrong. Whenever she gets scared, a nauseating feeling takes over and she can't help but empty her stomach.

She coughed and wiped her mouth with toilet paper, taking another piece of toilet paper and wiping the snot and tears off her face.

Who the hell could've sent her that note? Who the hell broke into her house and planted that?

Another thought stuck her. Just how long have they been watching her? What else is planted in her house?

That thought pushed her up off the ground, scurrying back to her bedroom. She tore her bedroom apart, searching every nook and cranny. She even went as far as to check every single clothing item she owned. She found a small microphone inside one of her ceiling light bulbs; no wonder the room looked brighter, her soft yellow lights were replaced with white LED's and she didn't even realize it! She even dismantled a part of her alarm clock, finding a small camera there. And she found another small camera in the eye of one of her old collector dolls that sat perched on her shelf.

After another trip to the bathroom to puke, she did a quick sweep around her bathroom, finding another microphone in her bathroom lightbulb and a camera inside the shower head; hence resulting in her throwing up again. She grabbed all the cameras and lightbulbs, placing them in a large ziplock bag for evidence, before placing the note in a separate ziplock bag.

(Y/N) sat on her bed for a moment, trying to wrack her brain on why this was happening. Why her? What this a nightmare? Who the hell would choose (Y/N) to stalk? It must be a sick joke, right? Nobody would write her a love confession, that's never happened in her life! She's close to nobody except Annabelle and Lola, and they would never do this! Kate hates her, and Ben's most likely still pissed off at her for punching him. There's nobody else in her life who's been around her recently except...

She grabbed her hair, tugging the ends to cope with the sick realization. It was Ren. That stupid, creepy brat with the stupid, creepy brown eyes that just bore right into her all the time. He's in her church, watching her every move like a hawk. He coincidentally transfers into her class a few months ago. He coincidentally steps in and saves her from Ben yesterday. It has to be him, there's nobody else!

Her throat was sore and burning, her eyes were exhausted and tired from crying, and she felt like she was about to tip over and faint. She opened her bedroom door, stumbling out into the hallway. Her father sat on the couch watching a baking show, while her mother sat reading a book on her loveseat. (Y/N) dragged herself into the living room, placing the ziplock bags onto the center table for them to speak.

"Papa. Mama. We need to call the police. Someone's watching me..."

The police were called down to the farm, talking to a clueless mother and father as they tried to gather evidence. The only evidence that could be found was the ziplock bags (Y/N) provided them. There were no signs of breaking in, but (Y/N) knew that was because of their own faults. They lived in a small, religious town, so everyone knew each other. They would've never expected anyone to break into their house, so it was common for people to leave their doors unlocked in their town. During the police investigation, they found a body inside the pig enclosure, the pigs feasting on the body of Ben Rivers. (Y/N) was immediately placed in custody and taken down to the police station to be questioned.

She refused to talk without a lawyer, but there weren't many lawyers inside of her small town, and her trial date was approaching rapidly. (Y/N) was being trialed for the possibility of first degree murder alongside tampering evidence, and (Y/N) was trying to file charges against Ren for stalking, trespassing, first degree murder, and frame up.

It took weeks for their small town court to final accept their case and get court hearings done. The word got around quick around town. If she felt isolated beforehand, well she certainly felt so now. As luck would have her, Ren was popular in school and in town. He actively attended and volunteered in church, he had stellar grades, and a perfect social image.

That's the only damn thing he has against her, a good social image. It's so unfair. Why is she punished for what others do? She didn't choose to be Frank's daughter, she didn't choose to be next inheritor of Rose's family farm.

�� Please, as if that was a good excuse, a part of it is her fault too. She was the one that tried killing herself. She was the one that sang the quietest during the church's hymens. She was the one that never bothered to stand out and do extracurricular activities like Annabelle and Lola do. By isolating herself, she's practically doomed herself in this case.

(Y/N) resisted the urge to play with her thumbs as she sat in front of the judge. She wore a white blouse with a black blazer, wearing a pencil skirt and black tights with black flats. Rose said that it would show she's sophisticated and respected, but (Y/N) felt like she was wearing the outfit to her own funeral.

She practically avoided Ren's eyes the whole session, not wanting to see what stupid "innocent" face he'll have on that damn face of his to sway the whole court. He sat in one of the seats behind her, just feeling everyone's eyes (including his) on her sent shivers down her spine. She was currently being tried for first degree murder and tampering with the evidence, but (Y/N) knows that's not true.

Surely they'll believe her, there were literally cameras and microphones in her room! There's practically nobody else that'll do this to her!

"With all the evidence and statements taken into consideration, we the court, find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of first-degree murder."

Her heart practically dropped at that. How could this happen?

"With all the evidence and statements taken into consideration, we the court, find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of tampering and trying to rid the body of Ben Rivers."

She tried to open her mouth to speak, but it felt like no words were going to come out. If she kept her mouth open any longer, she might just cry instead.

"(Y/N) (L/N) will serve 20 years, with no chance of parole." The judge decided. "Is there anything you wish to say, Ms. (L/N)?"

"How could you turn your back against justice?" she questioned, her bottom lip trembling. "I'm innocent. He framedme! Tell me how those cameras got into my house! How those microphones appeared!"

"According to receipts on a shopping site, you spent nearly $300 dollars purchasing two cameras and two lightbulb microphones, and had them shipped to a public park. It was purchased under your name and debit card."

(Y/N)'s face paled, her hands shaking. No, she didn't do that. Ren must've stolen it. He must've framed her!

"Around that same time, Ben Rivers, the man you killed, also happened to lose his wallet that was reported to have at least $300 in his words." The judge explained, reading a paper in their hands. "It was also during that time that you fought Mr. Rivers at your public high school, which provoked the murder. With this evidence, you not only premeditated the murder by buying the technology and trying to get rid of the body, but also tried framing the murder itself."

"B-but the note? Where did that come from?" (Y/N) questioned.

"There was no forensic evidence on the letter except for your finger oils, and the dried blood of Ben Rivers. The note was typed so you could hide your handwriting." The judge explained.

"No, no! It was typed! Anyone could've typed that! Ren could've typed that!" (Y/N) tried to fight. "Please, this was a targeted attack! Ben was murdered! Mine and my family's lives are in danger! This didn't just happen out of the blue, it was planned by someone that wasn't me! It was Ren, it has to be!"

"With the evidence of online receipts found under your name and debit card, the forensic evidence of your finger oils after you supposedly found the note in your clothing drawer, the finding of Ben Rivers body in your family farm, the previously shown hostility you've shown against Ben Rivers in the past; it is with undeniable evidence that you are guilty of murdering and hiding the body of Ben Rivers." The judge spoke. "With all this said, (Y/N) (L/N) will serve 20 years in prison, no parole. Along with this sentencing, I hereby give the verdict that Ren Itami is not guilty of first-degree murder, of trespassing, of stalking, and of tampering with evidence."

"What?! No! That needs another trial! You can't do that!" (Y/N) exclaimed.

"Court dismissed!" the judge shouted, their voice echoing throughout the courtroom.

(Y/N) sat limp, staring at the table she was seated at.

It's all over. She thought, her vision blurring with tears as her ears rang.

She could make out her father yelling in the background of the ringing, but she didn't have the energy to look.

My life is over. She thought as the judicial security forced her up out of her seat, taking her away from her family.

She stood up, tripping over her feet as security forced her away. She was able to tilt her head to look at her parents, watching as Rose covered her face with her hands; either she was crying, or she was embarrassed. Frank was standing and animated, his hands moving all around as his mouth ran, but (Y/N) couldn't hear what he was saying.

(Y/N) forced her eyes to look around the courtroom. Most people didn't even seem shocked or surprised that it was "supposedly" her who killed Ben Rivers. A few emotional people cried, others filing out of the courtroom. She saw Annabelle and Lola here with their families, the girls' expressions looking betrayed and in disbelief.

She saw the family of Ben Rivers there. His little siblings sobbed, and his mother covered her mouth as she cried. The father was trying to comfort Ben's mother, but his eyes stared at her with nothing but hatred.

No, don't look at me that way. She thought. I didn't do it. I didn't!

He just needs some guidance. They all just need some guidance to know it wasn't her. It wasn't her!

She finally saw the man that put her in this position, her eyes meeting his bright brown ones. His black hair covered his eyes, but she knew damn well he was looking at her. His disgusting, blood-soaked hands were patting the shoulder of one of Ben's siblings.

No! Don't let him touch them, Ms. Rivers. She thought. Don't let him kill your other children too, Mr. Rivers!

She was led through door, before the security slammed the court door shut, leading her down a hallway where a police car awaited to take her to prison.

One week here, and she could barely get out of bed. She was taken to the town's small prison. There weren't toomany people here, so she was able to get her own cell. At least she wouldn't be sharing a cell with a freak.

Oh, who is she kidding? She'd be the freak they'd be cellmates with.

She stared at the food on the ground, not wanting anything to do with it. It's not even that it looked unappetizing, it's that she had absolutely no strength to eat.

Her life was over, everything she looked forward to in her future no longer existed. She was going to get out of this town, run away from the farm's responsibilities and inheritance, find a place that could accept her no matter who her family was, go to college, become a pediatric nurse and help other kids like her and more. Somewhere in that future, she could even get a chance at a happy relationship.

But that's over now. Nobody is going to love her now. Nobody is going to accept her now. When she gets out of jail, she'll be at least almost 40. How is somebody going to accept a convicted murderer, whether they did it or not? Who is really going to believe her? Jobs will turn her down, she'll be lucky to even score a job at a fast food joint.

It's all over now, so she might as well just die. Starve herself away. Or, at the very least, she'll try to the best of her abilities. Sooner or later, the guards will take her to the medical-treatment room, and they'll force a tube down her nose or mouth and feed her some crappy nutritional supplement whether she wants it or not. After that, she'll go to her cell, and she'll stick her finger down her throat and force all of that disgusting crap out of her body, speeding up her dehydrating process and just finally die. The only reason she's been drinking water is because it hurts to breathe without a moist throat. At least after a while, the starvation slowly stops to hurt, but dehydration just feels worse in her opinion.

There was a bang on her cell's bars but (Y/N) couldn't bother to look over, staring at the ceiling as she rested on her bed.

"Hey, (L/N). You got a visitor!" the guard spoke, though she really couldn't care.

She didn't bother responding to them, staying in the same spot as she refused to talk.

"If you don't get up, we'll just bring them here." The guard persisted, though (Y/N) remained uncaring.

She heard the guard's footsteps fade away, at least ten minutes going by as she listened to other inmates talking and screaming, some banging on their cells angrily.

Can't you fools tell it's pointless? (Y/N) thought.

She wondered how many others were here innocently. This whole damn situation, being in jail, nobody believing her; she was almost convinced that she was a sleeper agent. Or at least, she was guilty but couldn't remember. Why else would people not listen to her?

Footsteps echoed down the hallways, before they stopped in front of her cell. She mentally rolled her eyes, not having the energy to do so in person.

"Hello, (Y/N)." A voice spoke, almost smugly as they stood at her cell. "Did you miss me?"

(Y/N) immediately scrambled up from her spot, getting dizzy and falling on the ground for a few seconds, but she forced her way up off the ground and ran to the prison bars.

"Y-" she tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse.

She quickly ran to her table and grabbed a water bottle, practically chugging the whole thing before wiping her mouth. She ran back to the cell's bars, staring at them.

"Y-you son of a bitch!" she shouted, her voice raspy as she forced her hands through the bars and grabbed the collar of their shirt, slamming them up against the bars. "How dare you show your face to me? I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

"My, how hostile. I'm just doing you a favor too!" he laughed.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ren? What are you doing here?!" she shouted. "Was it not enough? Was ruining my life not enough for you?!"

"Calm down, my love. I'm not looking to harm you, honestly this all was my mistake." Ren laughed.

My love? My love? As in, the nickname that bloodied confession letter said?

So it was Ren. (Y/N) thought, almost sickeningly gleeful despite all the damage he's caused to her.

At least she knows she's not completely crazy.

"Fuck you and your mistakes." She hissed, her grip tightening on his collar. "I'll never forgive you for this."

"So feisty." Ren smiled. "I'm actually bailing you out. Shouldn't you be glad?"

"Bailing... me out?" she questioned, confused. "Why did you even get me in here in the first place?! Do you understand how damaged my reputation is now?!"

"Oh, please. It's not like it was good to begin with." He chuckled, causing her to glare at him. "I didn't mean for you to be held accountable for murder. Really, it was an honest mistake. I was just trying to cover my tracks, I didn't mean for that pesky body to have you end up in jail. It's a shame a pest like him is still causing you problems even after he's dead."

"Why didn't you just admit to the murder? Why did you have to involve me into it?" she questioned.

"Well, if I was in jail, I wouldn't be able to see you anymore, silly!" he laughed, his hands reaching out and holding her wrists as she held his collar. "You have such soft, delicate hands. An angel like you shouldn't be trapped in a nasty cage such as this."

"It wouldn't be so soft and delicate when I bash your head into the wall!" she hissed, ignoring his angel comment as she ripped her hands away from him, a new wave of anger hitting her as he had the audacity to touch her after everything he's done.

"Well now, I had to make sure you learned your lesson. I was originally going to let you have a month here in prison—but ah, but I couldn't stay separated from you for that long." He sighed longingly. "I figured a week must be enough for you to learn your lesson! I'm glad I came sooner though, it looks like you've been starving yourself!"

I would rather stay a month here and starve than after to see you. She thought, annoyed.

"You've learned your lesson, right?" he questioned.

"Die sooner?" she spoke sarcastically.

"I do love your humor dear, but now is not the time." He smiled.

"What? Not to cross you or some crap?" she scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Bingo! Aren't you so smart?" he cooed, his hands holding the cell bars as she backed up from him.

"Fuck off. I might as well just rot away here. My life is over now." She hissed, turning her head away from him.

"Oh, no. See, it doesn't work like that!" he smiled. "Whether you like it or not love, you're still being bailed out! So, you can either come with me, or live in the streets! Aren't I a better option?"

I'd rather be the next Oscar the Grouch than go anywhere he's going. (Y/N) thought to herself.

"So? What will it be?" Ren questioned.

"I want to be bailed out." (Y/N) responded. "And I want food."

"Sure, that can be done." Ren smiled. "Just as long as you promise one thing?"

"What is it?" she questioned, glaring at him suspiciously.

"Graduation is near. As soon as we graduate, I want you to come live with me and become my wife. We'll move out of state and have our own family! Unless you want to wait for kids, we can do that too." Ren smiled, as if the idea wasn't crazy.

"Excuse me?" she questioned.

"Yeah, kids are a bit too soon, huh?" Ren nodded, as if agreeing with an idea she didn't even say.

"I said excuse me! Not even a first date or something?" she spoke, shocked.

Well, she shouldn't expect much class from the guy that put cameras and microphones inside her bathroom and bedroom.

"On the way home we'll grab that lunch I promised you. Consider it a lunch date." He smiled.

(Y/N) resisted the urge to roll her eyes, before eventually agreeing. "Okay..." she nodded. "If you bail me out and get me lunch, I'll be your wife..." she spoke, her legs shaky at just the thought of actually agreeing to this ridiculous request.

It can't be that bad, right? It's better than 20 years in prison, right?

"Oh, good! I was worried I'd have to bail you out and kidnap you on the streets! That would be quite the hassle to try and hide you!" Ren laughed giddily. "I'll be right back! I'll go pay and have the guards unlock the cell for you! I even brought you an outfit!"

"Great..." (Y/N) muttered, not even bothering to force a smile.

(Y/N) looked around her cell for anything she wanted to take, but there was nothing that wasn't hers. She watched as the prison guard opened the door for her, a hateful glare on his face.

Understandably so, he's under the impression that she's a murderer of a teenage boy, and now she's being paid out of jail. No wonder he would stare at her in disgust, even if the true killer was the one standing right next to him.

(Y/N) stepped out of the cell, being handed a bag from Ren.

"There's some private bathrooms here, we can find one for you to change in." Ren explained.

(Y/N) nodded, silent as she followed Ren. They found a bathroom for her to change into, much to (Y/N)'s relief as she doesn't want to change inside of a cramped car with her stalker. Ren opened the door for her, about to walk in with her before she stopped him.

"Excuse me? No. I can change by myself." (Y/N) scoffed, stopping him with her arm.

"Hm? Why?" he questioned. "It's not like I haven't not seen any part of your body."

"Don't remind me, creep." (Y/N) hissed, a shiver running up her spine as he reminded her of the cameras. "You stay out! I'll just change really quick!"

"Fine, whatever you want." Ren sighed, disheartened.

(Y/N) closed the door behind her, triple-checking to make sure it was locked. She opened the bag that Ren gave her, mentally groaning at the outfit he chose.

She put on the outfit reluctantly, before grabbing the brush he left in the bag for her. She brushed out her hair, looking at herself in the mirror. She wore a white mid-thigh length sundress that Ren gave her, with strawberry patterns printed on the cloth, and frilly off-shoulder sleeves. She put on white flats that he left in the bag for her, and she refused to wear the questionable lace panties and matching bra. The outfit was cute, but she didn't like knowing it was something her stalker got for her. She'll probably throw the dress away in the trash later.

She walked out of the bathroom, looking at Ren.

"Ah, look at you! You look adorable!" Ren cooed. "Spin for me."

"No." (Y/N) stated firmly, a flash of annoyance crossing her face at his audacity.

"Maybe next time." He laughed, before leading her to an office area.

He signed her out, and (Y/N) shortly received her personal items they held onto. She had the outfit she came to the prison with, along with her phone. She checked her phone's battery, seeing it was at 0%. The battery must've slowly been draining while she was held here.

"Ready to go, my love?" he questioned, holding his hand out for her.

"Die." She snapped, walking past him.

How could he act like this? How could he act like he did nothing wrong after he broke into her house and placed cameras and microphones into her private living space? How could he have the audacity to make her take his fall, then bail her out and tell she must've learned her lesson.

Of course she's learned. She's learned that she's going to get as far away from him as possible, no matter what. It doesn't matter when, one day, she'll escape him. Like hell she'll be his wife.

Ren laughed at her hostility, making a comment about "how cute she is when she's upset." He was acting as if he was dealing with a fussy toddler.

Ren guided her to his car, causing her to halt and rethink her decisions. She was going to be alone in an enclosed space with a man, a man who has done nothing but destroy her life. Ren looked at her expectantly, refusing to get in the car until she does first.

He's making sure he can quickly catch her if she tries to run from him.

(Y/N) sighed, before hesitantly opening the car door and getting in, closing the door. She tested the door handle to see if it'd open, but it was child-locked, she realized. If she wanted out of the car, Ren would have to unlock the doors and walk around to open the door for her.

Damn it, he's smart.

(Y/N) frowned, watching as Ren hopped inside of the driver seat. He turned the car on and smiled at her, opening his mouth to speak, before she interrupted him.

"Food." She spoke, buckling her seatbelt for safety (even if she would rather be in a car accident instead of hanging out with her stalker).

Before he could question where or what, she added on.

"Steak. Go to a steakhouse." She ordered, crossing her arms.

"You seem to know what you want." He chuckled, smiling.

"I haven't eaten in a week. Now drive." She snapped.

"Whatever you want." Ren hummed, pulling out of the parking lot and driving.

She looked around Ren's car, not noticing anything out of the ordinary except for the man himself.

"So, what do you see in me?" she questioned.

"Excuse me?" he questioned.

"ExCuSe Me." She mocked, let out a scoff of disbelief. "You heard me, jackass. You stalked me. You killed Ben. Why?"

"Let's save that for our wedding vows, yeah?" Ren smiled. "Don't worry. You won't have to wait long."

(Y/N) looked over at him nervously, before letting out a defeated sigh, instead focusing her attention outside of the window to avoid his predatory gaze.

Just like he promised, he returned her back home after paying for lunch. He requested for her to keep him bailing her out as a secret, to which she hesitantly agreed.

(Y/N) returned to her family's farm, rushing inside and hugging her father and mother. She made up a stupid lie saying that her good behavior let her get released, though they probably knew that wasn't the truth; however, they certainly didn't care if it was the truth or not.

Everything might've seemed resolved now, but that was far from the case. The news of (Y/N) being convicted and released made the news and headlines. It was (Y/N)'s first day of school and she sat in the bathrooms during lunch, hiding away from the rest of the world in the stall.

Annabelle and Lola are no longer her friends. "We can't be friends with a murderer, whether you say you did it or not, the evidence leads to you." they told her. There wasn't a Ben to try and push her in the hallways, or to try and trip her in biology class. Mr. Jones couldn't even come up with a dry comment to say to her.

It seemed like everyone was busy taking pictures or recording her. There were pictures of her mugshot taped onto her locker, and newspapers with the highlighted words "murderer" taped on it too. There were posts on social media questioning why she was back and how they could let a murderer escape.

She would rather be known as a freak than a murderer any day.

And the worst part? People sympathized with Ren. They were whispering about how sorry they were that he had to see the girl who "tried" to accuse him of killing Ben and stalking (Y/N).

It hurt losing her best friends from middle school. It hurt losing her social image, even if it wasn't much. It hurt being an accused murderer. It hurt hearing the rumors that her family's wealth and connections to the Devil is how she got out of prison.

It hurt being known, but not known at the same time.

She constantly looked at the posts the media had of her. She didn't know how to feel; angry, sad, disappointed, afraid? People are just making assumptions of what they heard and know, they don't know that Ren is the real murderer tormenting her. They don't know anything.

People whispered in the hallways and classes about her.

"I heard that she tried framing Ren because he rejected her confession."

"I heard she was the killer all along. I mean, who gets a love letter placed in their drawers and doesn't know about it? Sounds pretty suspicious."

"She got bailed out because of her mommy's money. She can't even accept responsibility for her own crimes."

"She sure looks like a killer, all quiet and creepy. I didn't even know who she was until now."

Even if Ben's bullying stopped, Kate's didn't. She only got more physical. What used to be verbally assaults was replaced with milk spilt on her head and cigarette burns on her scarred arms.

When will it be enough? She questioned the universe.

Never.

But the worst part? God, the worst part must be that bastard's face. (Y/N) constantly checked her room everyday to make sure there were no cameras or light bulbs, so Ren gave up trying to install more. Even though he stopped his 24/7 supervision of her, he constantly visited her at night, keeping her up by knocking at her window until she opened it so that he could talk her ear off about how pretty she was, and how excited he was to be her husband, and how close graduation was coming until he'd take her away from here.

He kept writing his stupid confession letters to her, about how much of an "angel" she was, and how utterly divine her beauty was. He used sugar paper to write on, and he used a dark red ink pen to write with. It was like he was taunting her by choosing red, reminding her of the spilt blood that stained the first confession he gave her. It was like he was reminding her that nobody believes her, that in everyone else's eyes she killed Ben.

She would grab the letters and burn them on her father's grill outside. It didn't matter trying to prove herself with the letters, nobody would believe her anyways. All she cared about was tearing the papers, stomping them on the ground and burning them into embers that flew in the air. Even burnt paper was more free than her. She wanted to destroy the evidence of Ren in her life. She wanted to destroy his love for her, but he just wouldn't give up.

Even her own mother believed she was a murderer. Rose told her one day while doing the dishes that she should be ashamed of herself, and that she should've at least tried blaming the murder on someone who was more less known and a weirdo. Rose couldn't dare think that Ren did such a thing, not when Ren was such a respectful boy who attended church and participated in volunteer work. At least her father believed her, but it felt like he always had to remind her what happened, to never go outside alone, to never leave the farm. She wasn't even sure if her father actually believed her, or if he was mixing his persecutory delusions when he experienced episodes into (Y/N)'s life. It drove her mad, she felt her already poor mental health deteriorating into something worse.

The church kicked out her entire family from ever stepping foot on the premises. Not only was she isolated from her hometown, friends, and society; but not even church would wash away the "sins" she committed.

Her grades were slipping. Her studies were failing. Her sanity was dropping.

Everything just looked like a weapon for her to use against herself or another.

Why should she eat food? Why should she drink water? Why should she take a shower? Why should she live?

One week before graduation. One week before Ren would whisk her away from this hell of a town, and give her a new hell as his wife.

She was admitted into the hospital for a stomach pump and to sew up her wrists after having another failed suicide attempt. It's been a couple years since she last tried to kill herself, but after all the events that happened, it only seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. She had tried overdosing on pills and cutting deep into her wrists so she could bleed out, but her father came home from work early. He made it a habit to always checked up on her after work, so when he saw her unconscious on the ground with blood on her arms and empty pill bottles around her body, he grabbed Rose and made her apply a towel and pressure to (Y/N)'s wrists while he sped through town to get her to the ER. She made it out alive, much to her dismay.

She sucked at living. She sucked at trying to find happiness. She sucked at trying to die. Wasn't there anything she was good at except being a punching bag?

The hospital made her take multiple tests during her time there. She had to answer a lot of paper tests asking about her health, and she had to take tests involving her nervous system. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, exactly what her father has and is why he's shunned from society. She was also diagnosed with manic depression as a follow-up for her bipolar disorder.

It clicked in her head then and there. She'll never be fine. She'll never escape these emotions. She'll always be a freak, and the daughter of a freak. She'll always be the daughter codependent on mommy's money. The realization made her sob, try to suffocate herself with her pillow. She was placed under suicide watch inside the hospital, and she was kept for three days, when the doctors finally decided to let her go.

As always, word got around in school, and more rumors spread. The constant whispers, the constant feeling of eyes watching her, they were all looking at her, they were all watching her just like Ren. It was too much.

Why was she being punished for simply just existing? Even when she tries to take her life, they still look down on her.

She had her scholarship to her dream med school denied after the newspaper headlines made way to them. They sent an email about how they couldn't accept a mentally ill scholar to care for others in need. All the other colleges she applied for wouldn't accept her either.

Everything was taken from her now. She had absolutely nothing to look forward to now. How can you possibly live if you have nothing to live for?

Ren was knocking at her window again tonight. Tomorrow was graduation, tomorrow was going to be her final day free from him.

Go away. She pleaded. Please, just leave me alone.

After one too many knocks on her window, she finally walked over to the window, ripping it open and jumping out the window, tackling him and pulling down to the ground. She got up on top of him and started punching his face.

"Fuck you, Ren! Fuck you! You ruined my future! You ruined my life!" she cried, her fists hitting anything on his face, before it hurt too much to punch him anymore.

When her fists stop hitting him, he looked up at her with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"My love, I'm so proud of you for communicating your feelings with me." He cooed, his hands moving up and holding her shaking hands.

"I want to die. I want to die." She cried, her figure shaking as tears dropped on his bloodied face.

"So that's where these scars came from..." Ren muttered, running his fingers along her stitches. "My love, why must you cut your wings? If you cut too deep, you'll lose your ability to fly!"

"I don't wanna fly. I just want to die." She spoke through tears.

"I never wanted you to waste a drop of your blood. I only want mine to spill..." he spoke, his fingers going from her arms to her thighs, trying to soothe her, but the feeling only made her feel worse.

"Don't touch me! I'll kill you!" she shouted.

It’d be such an honor dying by your hands. To feel your skin on mine. Please, tell me how you’ll kill me? Will it be slow or long? Use me as you wish and dispose of me!” he laughed, taunting her as he fed into her fantasies, as if the idea was actually entertaining to him.

No. She doesn't want to kill him. She doesn't want to touch him if he'll just enjoy it and act like a masochistic freak. She just wants him to disappear from her life.

"Please, please just let me go. Please just let me die. I can't. I can't do this." (Y/N) begged. "Just let me go. Please."

"I'm sorry, but you're mine, angel. I can't live without you." He frowned. "Finders keepers."

(Y/N) cried, slapping his hands off her thighs. She stood up off his bleeding figure, climbing back into her bedroom window.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, my love!" he smiled, blood leaking out of his mouth.

She ignored his words, shutting her window and locking it. She walked to her bathroom and washed her hands off in the sink, before crawling into her bed and crying herself to sleep.

It was graduation day, but she felt anything but excited. It's not like a high school diploma would fix everything in her life.

However, depending on how she plays this out, she just might be able to escape this.

She received her diploma on stage, with little to nobody except her parents clapping (Ren was in line, but he wasn't going to clap for the girl who "tried to frame him for murder"). She quickly exited the stage, sneaking out of the ceremony and running out to the parking lot. She hopped into her car and drove away.

For weeks she's planned this out. She sold her phone and laptop in case there was any tracking malware installed by Ren, buying a new phone and laptop. She gave her parents her phone number and told them not to give her number to absolutely anyone. She checked all over her car, inside and outside, looking at every nook and cranny inside the engine and outside for any airtags or tracking devices. She packed up all her clothes and important essentials, putting them in luggage and shoving it into her car. She closed all her old bank accounts and opened new ones now that she was 18, bank accounts her family or nobody else could access, transferring all her money into said accounts. She only had a few hundred bucks, and she refuses to stoop so low as to ask her parents for money (she does not want to be indebted to Rose). She said her goodbyes to her parents this morning, knowing she won't see them after the graduation. She even found Ren's car in the parking lot before the ceremony and slashed all his tires so he couldn't drive after her.

She didn't know where she was driving, but she was driving away from her hometown, from her family, and from Ren. She'll find a new home, and she'll learn to be happy there. She'll live inside of her car until then, and she'll search for a job until she can eventually save up money for a place.

Weeks went by as she drove in and out states, looking for a place to settle. She slept on the side of the roads, and picked up cheap food from any gas station or fast food joint she could find. She would use free wi-fi from those fast food joints or public places, and she would take showers in the public showers of trucker gas stations (she would wear socks during her showers though, like hell she'll contract ringworm or any other fungi).

Living homeless was uncomfortable and downright scary, but she felt it was better than being Ren's wife.

A month into her escape, she received a sketchy email from a supposed learning institution. The supposedly email basically summed up to them being notified that you were looking for a med school, but because of your recent arrest charges, you can't get into any schools. The institution is offering to accept her into their school under any medical degree and skill due to the fact their school doesn't accept discrimination of any kind.

It was extremely sketchy, it even had a poster of a doctor recommending euthanasia for suicidal people (honestly she could use that).

But it was something? If she actually got a degree from these guys, then she could really get her life back on track! Get a job! Become a pediatric nurse! She could actually make something out of herself and be happy on her own!

She responded back to the email, surprised to see the email reply not even ten minutes later. The email came with a short "thank you", followed by an address a few states away. (Y/N) gathered her items and walked out of the dining establishment, hopping into her car and putting on a GPS to follow the address.

This was her future, wherever it will lead her, it must at least be better than Ren.

(Y/N) woke up from her sleep, tired and disoriented. She felt a warm presence holding her, and looked up to see Andrew. Andrew's hand was placed on her head, his other arm wrapped tightly around her body, holding her close in a protective manner.

(Y/N) tried to carefully sneaking out of his hold, but it was to no use. She didn't want to wake him up, so she just resorted to lying there. She looked at her clock, noticing it was 8 A.M, far earlier than she'd like to be up by.

She looked over at Andrew and smiled. It's funny how she enjoys this practical stranger's company far more than she enjoyed Ren's, but I guess the difference between them is Ren was a stalker who didn't have any boundaries, and Andrew wasn't.

(Y/N) mentally gushed over his handsome face, resisting the urge to giggle as she saw drool on his lips.

What? She's allowed to mentally enjoy the peaceful sight. Who cares if he's a murderer staying with her rent free and she murdered his sister. She doesn't have many peaceful things in her life, shut up and let her enjoy this moment before her life goes to hell once more!

She remembered that her parents had spent the night, and that (Y/N) had express-shipped a package today for Andrew.

(Y/N) groaned, closing her eyes for a second before reopening them. She placed her hand on Andrew's arm, shaking him until he woke up.

"Uh... (Y/N)?" Andrew muttered, sleepily. "Something wrong...?"

"Morning, sleeping beauty." (Y/N) teased. "Ready to start today? We have a bunch of shopping to do."

"To spend a day with you? I'm honored." Andrew hummed sarcastically, before reaching his hand out and touching her cheek, gently pinching and tugging it. "Let's get today started, bedhead." He smirked, before ruffling her messy hair.

Hello, my stars! I know Andrew didn't show up in this like, at all, but don't worry, chapter 8 will have tons of Andrew. I'll make it up to y'all by doing a cute little date with Andrew and (Y/N), where cute, wholesome things happen. Nothing bad.

Chapter 7 is done! Phew! This was probably the fastest I've ever written a chapter for you guys. I've just had a lot of free time this week and I felt really motivated to do this chapter, so I'm glad it's out! Chapter 8 has most of its outline work done, so now it's just the matter of getting to write it! The series is starting to wrap up, but I think it probably won't end until chapter 10-12 (no promises though).

I also know that Andrew wasn't (was barely) in this chapter. I wanted to do a chapter of (Y/N)'s backstory, but I didn't expect it to get so long... I just didn't want to half-ass it. It was better separating the chapters after all though!

Don't worry, chapter 8 will have tons of Andrew. I'll make it up to y'all by doing a cute little date with Andrew and (Y/N), where cute, wholesome things happen. Nothing bad. Thank you all for reading!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for requests!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, current chapter, chapter 8, final chapter.

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

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sequinsmile-x · 6 months ago

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Is not the fact that we are hating on pregnancy. Is the fact that you write Emily as a typical mediocre person who settles down to have children and thats her only goal in life. That’s so out of character for Emily she will never settle down to having kids and a husband like all those mediocre women. With her upbringing she would be achieving for bigger and better things. Is Frankly annoying to have you write her as a typical mediocre character

ok this is wild on so many levels.

A) no one is forcing you to read anything. ever. so...just don't read it.

B) early on it's made clear that Emily did want to have children. For one reason or another, that didn't happen. But it's within her character that she wants those things. Even in the original ending of CM she is looking to move to be with her boyfriend and his child.

If anything, who she ends up becoming is sad to me personally. She essentially becomes her mother. Yes, she's strong. She's amazing. But she's doing a political job (something she truly does hate in canon. she says it repeatedly.) And it's almost a cruel twist of irony that she ends up by herself, doing a job that she's fucking excellent at but would have, in my opinion, never chosen when she was younger.

C) I have never, in my life, met a woman who is mediocre. No matter what her choices are. Whether she as a career, or is a stay at home mother. Whether she has a career AND a family. Which, by the way, is what I have Emily do in 99.99% of my fics.

So maybe you need to reflect a little on how you view women and their choices and sit in that for a minute. Because that sounds like something you need to work on.

Ultimately, this is fanfiction. As @eyesontheskyline always says - we're playing with dolls.

I've been writing about them having a nice, happy family (albeit with bumps along the way) for close to four years now. Because thats what I think they deserved. And it's what I like to write because it's a nice reminder that in this horrible, awful world that nice things exist. And sometimes, just sometimes, a happy ending is possible.

I guess what I'm saying is, if you don't like what I'm writing, don't read it. Don't send rude, anon, messages to me and simply just go away.

I'm not one to often big myself up. I'm a walking pile of anxiety. But I write the vast majority of the fanfic in this fandom. I do this for free. I use a LOT of my spare time doing this.

If I keep getting messages like this, this will no longer be fun for me. And as soon as the negative outweighs the good I am out.

Don't bite the hand that feeds you.

#hotchniss fanfic #i got a little spicy in this #but i am fucking fed up #just unfollow #or fuck off

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rooniper · 3 months ago

Text

The inevitable Ralph Lore Masterpost

Here it comes. After my second re-read and a week of talking about this fictional cringefail tragic girl dad to anyone who would listen, here it finally is, because I felt a need to write all of this down for future reference and also because I am very close to exploding at any given second of the day.

Also: do keep in mind some of this is my personal speculation/theories/ramblings and probably not canon, but I did try to stick to just the book as much as possible. This is not a coherent essay. Really, it’s a word vomit because I can’t stop thinking about the funny Phone Man. I still probably missed some things, feel free to chime in in the replies, might make a Part 2 unpacking some of the lore/non-Ralph related bits in the future who knows.

Anyways, in no particular order (AND OBVIOUSLY; SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT):

Pre-Freddy’s Era Details I Couldn’t Fit Anywhere Else (Or: Upbringing, College and some Coppelia’s Mom Speculation)

There’s not much info about Ralph’s childhood from what I could gather, except two things: he was bullied in school to the point where he had to hide in a locked bathroom stall to get away from his classmates, and his father was a major a-hole who had extremely high expectations for him and also used to scare him out of wanting to play hide-and-seek with him which. Goddamn. The quote “all your life you’ve gotten used to not pushing buttons” really, really doesn’t help the horrible parents allegations. So yeah the man has daddy issues, jot that down.

Expanding on the previous point: a lot of his parenting of Coppelia seems to be directly influenced by his own upbringing. The paragraph-long tangent about how he’s purposefully awful at hide-and-seek because he never wants Pel to feel as scared as he did is an obvious example, but he also brings her gifts from work pretty much constantly (and sidenote: he thinks of taking things from his job that he never breaks the rules at to bring to her all the goddamn time, while being actively hunted by murderous animatronics. That’s so goddamn wholesome I’m sorry even when he’s scared out of his mind he’s constantly thinking of her). He never puts her down the way it’s implied he was put down as a child, he seems really supportive of her hobbies by the way he talks about her reading. I have more to say about his parenting skills, but the fact that he’s terrified of becoming like his own father/parents seems to be a giant part of them.

He’s a college dropout who majored in psychology, aiming to specialize in child psychology, which makes so much sense but also I find incredibly ironic considering he later exhibits very VERY obvious signs of what’s probably PTSD and doesn’t clock it at all. But that is also going to be its separate point, put a pin in that.

It’s not just implied, but pretty explicitly stated by Ralph himself that he’s a massive overachiever. He was probably pretty academically successful in college, considering he mentions it was a surprise to most people that he’d drop out to get into security work. It’s pretty strongly implied this was mostly because he was pressured into succeeding by his parents. My man has that helicopter parents burnout syndrome, and escaped it by going into a job where he could still interact with kids like he wanted to as a psychologist but actually be happy, and that means a lot to me actually.

(Very important sidenote, because I don’t know where else to put this: the fact that his real dream job is to make children’s toys is just so real to me, especially as someone who’s also experienced academic burnout. It makes so much sense for him to want to do something with his hands where he can create something tangible after being pushed into being traditionally ‘successful’ in academia by his environment. Also put a pin in this as well because I have another point to make about the whole toymaker thing)

He seems to be at least low-contact with his family, which is understandable from what we know about his father - I’d say it’s likely he even cut contact completely after dropping out of college. The fact that he never mentions his parents as a possibility when he talks about babysitting options, or the fact that he doesn’t even consider them taking care of Coppelia when he is literally about to die seems pretty telling to me. I mean, alternatively, they could both be dead, depending on how old Ralph is, but since Coppelia’s only eleven that seems a bit unlikely.

Coppelia’s mom is a mystery. There is exactly one mention of her in this entire book and it doesn’t come from Ralph, but from Pel, so we know she does in fact exist but that’s about it. When Ralph talks about parenting Coppelia he never mentions her mom, even as far back as when Coppelia was one year old. They probably divorced when Coppelia was really young, and Ralph likely has full custody, since he never mentions Coppelia going to her mother’s for the weekend or anything like that. And that’s all we know.

Freddy’s and Related Tidbits (Or: I Stuffed Everything Related to his Relationship to Fazbear Entertainment in this Section)

He’s worked at Freddy’s for at least eleven years, because he mentions Coppelia being a month old when he already had the job and recorded his first training tape. If FNAF 1 indeed takes place in 1993, that means he was already working at Freddy’s by 1982 and likely earlier. Which, side-tangent, would imply that either Fredbear’s Family Diner was removed enough from Fazbear Entertainment by then for him not to know anything beyond the vague existence about the bite of ‘83, or that FNAF 1 takes place after 1993. But at this point the timeline is confusing enough that who knows.

He’s never moved up to management despite being there for more than a decade, also doesn’t appear to know Henry or William (especially if you believe the whole Dave-is-probably-William theory).

He was employee of the month 22 times. He also likely competed against his murderer ex-boss in disguise for the longest employee of the month award streak which is the best goddamn thing I’ve ever heard.

He’s written some of the rules at Freddy’s. Because of course he has.

He leaves passive-agressive notes to the dayshift guard and also thinks about shoving a ballpoint pen in the cleaning staff’s faces. And also talks about reporting people for slacking off. What I’m trying to say that he’s probably not the most popular of people with the rest of the staff, and doesn’t appear to realize why that could possibly be. Worst enemy of folks who don’t want to take their shitty minimum wage job extremely seriously.

On a related note, he takes his job so seriously oh my god. He does like twenty other jobs each night while the animatronics are trying to kill him. He’s probably the only person still doing reports. Management is very much implied to never read them. He writes them anyway. The fact that he was genuinely called ‘the Phone Guy’ and also was in training videos is also amazing (and also pushes the Trans Phone Guy agenda for anyone who considers Kim from the FNAF movie to be a stand-in for him).

This is specifically night-shift related: While it’s true that his survival instincts are absolutely shot, he is, when pushed, demonstrated to be capable of extreme violence against animatronics, which actually good for him. He kicks Bonnie’s head off. He beats Chica to death with a mop. He shoots Foxy with a watergun and also throws a lightbulb at him. This is not particularly important to anything but it’s extremely important to me.

Anyways, he’s really, really loyal to this company. Like, too loyal. Like, he was very much responsible and instrumental in shutting down rumors and speculation among staff after the bite of ‘87 and likely after the MCI as well too loyal. He’s management’s mouthpiece for their dirty work and that makes me feel a certain way because it’s so obvious he cares a lot about this shitty kids’ restaurant, enough that he’d defend it at all cost even when there’s so much evidence against it. This will come up again when I talk about him gaslighting himself.

This is mostly me speculating on the previous point, but I’m pretty certain a lot of his defending of the company is also a coping mechanism that he uses to grapple with the trauma brought to him by the fact that he’s spent a huge chunk of his life working for a conglomerate that’s gotten people killed. He genuinely insinuates Jeremy was responsible for getting chomped, because he must’ve done something wrong, the animatronics would never attack anyone without reason (right?). When he talks about how the media blew children going missing out of proportion, it seems less like he believes it and more like he doesn’t want to believe it - especially considering he’s only brought Coppelia to Freddy’s once in her life. He never lets her near it. He shuts her down immediately when she talks about working at it. Which, at least to me, demonstrates that on a subconscious level, he knows what he’s saying isn’t true. It’s just easier to say it than face the facts.

And lastly, he’s so clearly and passionately loyal to the Fazbear’s franchize. This fucker genuinely loves working here and is sad to go, even though management treats him like shit. We already knew that, but still, dear god those people could not care less if he lived or died and he STILL takes his night guard duties so goddamn seriously. He’s so clearly really invested in it, he talks about what a magical place Freddy’s used to be for kids, he talks about how much the job means to him, all the while it’s actively trying to kill him, he defends it to the point that it’s actively ridiculous, and in multiple endings he still gets blackmailed, disappeared or worse by the people he’s defending. And- I don’t know. It just makes me really sad. Again, I do believe his over-the-top enthusiasm for his job is probably him compensating for the fact that he doesn’t want to face the incredibly traumatic stuff happening to him, especially because as the week goes on, he gets less and less enthusiastic with every night, and just- Yeah. Fazbear Entertainment doesn’t deserve him.

Characterization, Diction and Things Like That (Or: Everything Else)

Let’s get the more positive stuff in this section out of the way first: we already knew this from the phone calls, but the way this man talks just sends me. “Time to make the donuts” when walking into a shift my favorite of his Phone-Guy-isms, but also unironically saying “oh boy!” and “what rotten luck!” right when you’re about to die is equally important to me.

Kind of related but not really: this man truly is a dad through and through because MY GOD the amount of bad puns and/or stupid references he makes is criminal. The fact that they get him actually killed in some of the endings because he keeps laughing at his own terrible jokes is also great. My favorite examples include thinking “my, what large ears you have” immediately before Foxy mauls him, the Irony Curtain, the how many night watchmen does it take to change a lightbulb, and so on. The fact that he also finds all of this absolutely hilarious means so much to me. Ralph truly is a cringefail girl dad, RIP to him he would’ve loved those awful shirts with puns that were popular with dads going to Disneyland in the 2000s.

Not gonna lie, and I’m not sure if this is just me reading too much into it, but he also reads as at least slightly neurodivergent to me. And I am ready to die on that hill. He doesn’t really seem to be the best at social interaction or with figuring people out, from the way he talks about not being able to tell if his coworkers are only laughing at his jokes to be polite or not and how he doesn’t seem to understand why they would be upset with him shoving minimal errors in their faces. He notices a single hat out of place in one of the Party Rooms and immediately goes to correct it. He makes a point about how much he hates messes and the whole “you need order, you crave order in your life” quote resonated so deeply with me that it’s uncanny. He’s a “stickler for rules”. The fact that he worked at one place for eleven plus years also makes me think he’s probably not the best with change. I could go on. I don’t know, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why, but I just can’t see him as fully neurotypical.

He’s also just a really curious dude, to the point of his curiosity overriding his survival instincts. Which is a horror protagonist trope if I’ve ever seen one. The scene where he lifts up a strange robot cupcake he just found directly to his face with zero hesitation is just. Yeah.

He loves Foxy, which we already knew, but also the fact that he explicitly states that he’s still scared of him and Pirate Cove by association makes me kinda sad. Also, related point, he’s a self-proclaimed fan of pirate stories, so I’m pretty sure that’s where Coppelia gets her taste in books from, but that’s besides the point.

In general, he just really loves the animatronics, too? Like he waves at them after his shift. Like I already mentioned, he talks about how much they mean to him, and how much he loves the fact that they brought joy to kids. It’s kinda sweet.

The most questionable thing about him is the way he. Uh. Talks about guns/cops in a way that kind of makes me remember he was raised in Utah around the 1960s. There are a few specific passages that make me extremely concerned about what his opinion on the second amendment is. But that is luckily left unspoken so I’ll be moving along.

The job stresses him out so much he consumes a packet of raw poptarts because he’s so hungry by the end of it. Which, while iconic, is also very deeply concerning. Which brings me to my biggest point

My god this man has Trauma. So much Trauma. He represses so much. The entirety of the beginning of Night 3 is just him describing that he forgets details about his shifts as soon as he leaves them. He gaslights himself constantly that nothing bad is happening (after Night 1, for example, he calls the entire shift the night before a bad dream and convinces himself he’s just “misinterpreting” events, which is goddamn concerning), but he’s also actively wasting away despite telling himself he’s not (my man looks into the mirror and his only and first comment is that he looks terrible). Not to mention the dissociation. He spaces out when he comes home on two seperate occassions, and loses and entire hour each time without realizing it. God I hope in the endings where he survives he eventually gets therapy.

Coppelia and Life Outside of Work (Or: This Section is Concerningly Short)

This man loves his daughter so goddamn much. So, so much.

No but seriously the interactions between him and Coppelia are so pure and well written and they were my favorite part of the book, somehow, even though I wasn’t originally sold on the concept. The “with what?” “excellent point, I’ve got nothing” kills me still. The scene where Coppelia curls up next to him after he comes home from his shift makes me want to sob. He makes her pancakes and they banter and she test limits but it’s obvious she also loves her dad, and that is- AAAAAA

Back to my bullshit, though: Ralph does kinda read as the type of parent who’d spoil a kid rotten if given the opportunity to do so. At some point Coppelia directly says that he “gets her everything she wants”, and- yeah. This is similar to the point I made previously about him bringing her gifts all the time. She does seem like a good kid, though. He’s just a girl dad to the extent that he’d probably wear a shirt with girl dad written on it, you know?

He’s also really protective of her. And worries. A lot. Not just when he calls home or rushes home to check on her, but also when he talks about being a security guard at her school and whenever he forbids her from ever ever going near Freddy’s. Say what you will about him defending a company to a possibly unethical extent, but he’s not about to endanger his daugher over it, and I respect that.

The only concering thing about him and Coppelia is the fact that Coppelia apparently drew herself stabbing him when she was little. Which is. Well. Not ideal. The fact that he finds this completely normal is very in character, though.

On Coppelia by herself, though: the fact that she ‘tinkers with stuff in the basement’ concerns me. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if after the canon ending, she ends up to be a technician at Freddy’s at some point. Also, the fact that she’s a gamer warms my heart.

Now, on other outside-work activities: I love the implication that my man not only bowls and always pays for dinner, but that he bowls and pays for dinner while dining with his serial killer ex-boss. God, that’s awesome, I love that so much.

Tying back to a point I made previously and also to a point I saw some people make that I really, really resonated with: there are actually a lot of parallels between Henry/William and Ralph, especially concering parenting. I don’t think the fact that his dream to be a toymaker is accidental, either, or the fact that he goes out of his way to point out that he wants to make toys that aren’t at all mechanical. Because even though he’s also a dad trying to make his kid happy with his creations, unlike William and/or Henry, he doesn’t want to make anything bigger than himself, or anything innovative; just wants to make simple things and make a kid’s day better. I don’t know man keeps me up at night, you know?

And, because this is only important to me: he owns a Kit-Cat Clock. This is somehow the most fitting thing I could’ve read about his taste in home decor.

And because I don’t know how else to end this: that’s a wrap! Was this book perfect? Hell no. The Bronwen plotline makes my brain hurt. But was it incredibly fun? Oh hell yes. And now I have a reference point for any future writings I do where Ralph is an active character, so that’s a major bonus. I have many thoughts but not enough time to put all of them down so I’m stopping here, major thanks to @graceandtheidiotsquad for pushing me over the edge and making me actually finish this with a reply lmao. And that’s all! Phone Man please get out of my head now before I go insane.

#when i tell you rent free in my head i mean rent free #i start uni in like 4 days i can’t still be unwell over a goddamn fnaf book and yet #ralph my beloved i love you you silly silly man #fnaf #phone guy #the week before #fnaf the week before #fnaf the week before spoilers #reference

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