#now I'm awake so I'm posting the song late and then I'm gonna have to go clear it out of my drafts

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: August 18

“Get Up” by Mother Mother

[chadillacboseman]

Hiii :)))

I saw your Makarov posts and I am obsessed with how you write him! I was wondering if I could request a writing? Could you write a oneshot where the reader is completely unaware of just WHO Makarov is and thinks he's a regular guy (established relationship) but she somehow finds out what he does/ has done and he lowkey kinda panics bc how tf did she figured that out??? And is she gonna leave??? But he explains how much he's doing to make sure she never is exposed to his work and he becomes more desperate to make sure she stays? Idk i like him lowkey kinda OOC 😌

If not that's totally ok! Have a good day!!

HELLO GREAT IDEA I LOVE YOU.

ALSO- Jason Isbell has a song called "Live Oak" that I feel fits really well:

There's a man who walks beside me

He is who I used to be

And I wonder if she sees him and confuses him with me

And I wonder who she's pinin' for

On nights I'm not around

Could it be the man who did the things

I'm living down?

Makarov had worked very hard to keep his "work" away from you. He crafted believable stories, spun from whole cloth, to explain his extended absences and late nights spent away from home. When his men kept an eye on the house, he made them do it in secret, hoping, no- praying that you wouldn't notice the familiar cars that parked on the street every night.

As they say, though, even the best laid plans can go awry.

Makarov's phone rang in the middle of the night, the soft thrum of the vibration just enough to wake him, but not you. He scrambled from the bed, quickly swiping to answer the call while making his way into the hallway.

"What is it?" he asked, sleep still clinging to his voice as he paced in the small space.

An errant creak in the floorboards made him curse in Russian, glancing over his shoulder to make sure it hadn't awoken you.

In the bedroom, you stirred, reaching a hand over to his side of the bed and blinking awake when you found it empty.

"V?" you croaked out into the darkness.

No answer.

You could hear the soft sound of his voice coming from the hallway, words muffled by the distance between you. You rose to your feet quietly, trying to shake the tiredness from your mind.

Makarov had his back to you, his phone pressed against his ear; he was whispering, but you could hear the angry hiss in his voice.

"I told you to tie up the loose ends!" he paused to listen to the man's response and scoffed quietly, "Make sure he's dead before morning, or I'll put a bullet between your eyes myself."

Your heart hammered out an erratic rythm in your chest, so loud that you were sure he could hear it. Had you misheard him?

Makarov ended the call and immediately swiped his thumb across the numbers, dialing a contact you didn't recognize.

"Ivan just called me," he hissed into the phone when the person picked up, "After that stunt at the train station in London-"

His next words were lost to the ringing in your ears.

Train station? Your memory flashes to the news articles, the tv coverage- dozens dead, and hundreds more injured in a blast that NCA and Interpol were still investigating.

Before you could stop it, a small gasp fell from your mouth, impossibly loud in the quiet space. At the sound of it, Makarov's shoulders stiffened, his broad frame becoming rigid in the darkness.

He ended the call abruptly and tried to swallow his heart down out of his throat. His mind was on fire, racing with what to do- what to say-

When he finally turned to face you, his face was pale and his eyes were full of desperation.

The two of you stood in silence, neither willing to break it and confront what had just happened. You'd shared your life with him for the last four years- had laid in bed next to a killer. How many plots had he orchestrated? How many people had died at his behest?

Makarov finally broke the silence with a whisper of your name, "Please- let me explain."

You looked so afraid, wild-eyed like a doe that hears the errant crack of a twig in the forest. His heart was in his stomach now; he felt as if his entire world was about to fall down around him.

Part of you wanted to leave. To pack a bag and find a cheap hotel to put some distance between the two of you. But another part of you, a bigger part, wanted a fucking explanation.

But what could he possibly say?

Makarov closed the distance between the two of you, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. You flinched at the movement, and he felt his heart break.

"I did everything I could to keep you safe," he murmured, his dark eyes never wavering from yours, "I didn't-" he paused for a moment, searching for the words, "I didn't want you to know who I am- what I am."

"You'll never have to find that out. I promise."

"And what are you?" You whispered. You felt as if your life had been upended entirely, pieces of your broken image of him scattered like a shattered piece of china.

"And what if the enemies you've made come for me?" You asked, defiantly, pulling your face from his grip.

A possibility he'd considered thousands of times. That you pulled away from his touch while you asked it pierced his chest like a knife.

How could he begin to explain the details his men kept on the house? The late nights he spent awake when a noise roused him from his sleep, ears strained in the darkness and a grip on his pistol?

"My men watch the house when I'm gone," Makarov searched your face for any sign of relief, "I will always keep you safe, Любимая."

There was so much more he wanted to say-

Don't leave me.

You're the closest thing to normal I have.

I love you.

"No one will ever lay a hand on you," he brought his hand to your face once more and you let him, closing your eyes as his thumb swept across your cheek gently, "Please, give me a chance."

You wondered, now, how many sleepless nights he had spent making sure you were safe. How many times he'd been away, nerves on edge with worry of your safety.

Could you still see him as the same "V"?

"Promise me something?" You stared up into his eyes, sparkling in the dark hallway.

"Anything," he breathed, bringing his face closer to yours, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he spoke.

"I want things to stay like they were. I don't...I don't want to know about what you do."

You weren't even sure that was possible. But you had to try.

Makarov brought his lips to yours, his stubbled chin grating gently against your skin as he kissed you. For a moment, everything felt right again as he pulled you tight against him, the warmth of his body such a familiar comfort you could almost forget what you'd heard. When he broke the kiss, he was breathing heavily, his eyes flitting to yours once more.

"I promise."

[iamjucie]

Astarion the Musical

Today, I spent several hours creating a playlist that tells Astarion's story (a version of it) through songs. I want to share the playlist with you, along with this post as a companion to describe the context.

In my mind it plays out like a musical would- context and dialogue happening between musical numbers. I hope you enjoy.

Song explanations:

The Code: Post game Astarion introducing his story to the audience. A synopsis of his story from the POV of the person who lived through it. 

"I, I went to Hell and back To find myself on track I broke the code, whoa-oh-oh Like ammonites I just gave it some time Now I found paradise I broke the code, whoa-oh-oh"

The story starts when he is attacked by the Gur and is approached by Cazador.

The Killing Moon: Cazador turns him into his spawn.

"Under blue moon I saw you So soon you'll take me Up in your arms, too late to beg you Or cancel it, though I know it must be The killing time Unwillingly mine Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him"

Dead Arms & Dead Legs: After he has turned, coming to terms with his new undead self. 

"I have been out walking with these Dead Arms & Dead Legs And the mysteries of the universe are patterned in my head The terrain becomes unbearable - too steep to stick your heel I imagine myself here again in 50 million years I run to the left... I run to the right And all my fears become a life And what is left... and who are you in the end?"

Queer: He is seducing victims and luring them to Cazador using his body and charm.

"Hey boy, take a look at me Let me dirty up your mind I'll strip away your hard veneer And see what I can find The queerest of the queer The strangest of the strange The coldest of the cool The lamest of the lame The numbest of the dumb I hate to see you here You choke behind a smile A fake behind the fear The queerest of the queer"

The Dead Come Talking: Feeling guilt about the victims he led to death. He can't seem to forget them.

"Feel the worms eating holes through my mind Like regrets that'll kill me in time Walking backwards is always a guess Distant faces burn holes in my chest, mm-mm, mm-mm Shadows floating, they're out in the hall They still haunt you long after they're gone Buried in the basement, cold cement Dead come talking, can't put them to rest"

rises the moon: Montage of his life as a slave under Cazador, time passes and his hope for an escape becomes less and less. 

"Days seem sometimes as if they'll never end Sun digs its heels to taunt you But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same Rises the moon Days fade into a watercolour blur Memories swim and haunt you But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke Rises the moon"

Abbey: He is out in the city hunting, daydreaming of freedom. 

"There is a light, I feel it in me But only, it seems, when the dark surrounds me There is a dream and it sleeps in me Keeps me awake in the night Crying, "Set me free" And I wake every night Crying, "Set me free" "

Kidnapped by the Nautiloid.  Nautiloid crashes. 

Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!: He wakes up at the crash site and is freaking out. He is in the sun, and not burnt to ash.

"This is not enough, this is not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom This is not enough, this is not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta get to the bottom of this"

Meet Tav.

Survival: He realizes he has an actual chance at freedom now that he met Tav.

"You won't pull ahead I'll keep up the pace And I'll reveal my strength To the whole human race Yes, I am prepared To stay alive I won't forgive, the vengeance is mine And I won't give in Because I choose to thrive Yeah, I'm gonna win!"

Biting Down: Drinks Tav’s blood for the first time. His first time drinking blood from a thinking creature and he realizes why it was kept from him. He feels alive. He feels powerful.

"Skip a hit, don't make a sound (It feels better biting down) Breathed so deep I thought I'd drown (It feels better biting down) Listen to the beats resound (It feels better biting down) It feels better biting down (It feels better biting down)"

Little White Lies: Gaining Tav’s trust, making her fall in love with him for protection.

"Would you leave me for dead, or would you come to my aid? If I don't tell you some pretty words Should it keep you coming my way I never meant to lie, but there are things we do and say to get by Little white lies, a small surprise, how big they grow in size It all starts simple enough Your present is dark because your childhood was rough So you shed your skin and you change your name in the hopes of Putting air in between you and the pain, so grab a mask Fill up a flask, slither like a snake into the mascaraed"

Terrible Thing: Seduces Tav enough for her to sleep with him.

"I know what you're doin' here Made your intentions clear Oh you, you terrible thing, you Terrible thing, you Terrible thing, you Beautiful thing Honey, you're so cold You left me on patrol Lose my self-control with you (when I'm with you) Do things I don't want to do, ooh"

Laplace’s Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!): Feelings for Tav are growing, and the guilt of manipulating her is starting to get to him so he tries to justify his actions.

"It doesn't take a killer to murder It only takes a reason to kill We've all got evidence of innocence, it's "everything's coincidence" The difference twixt fate and free will is whether you're singing Ooh, could you take a look at me? Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? And now we're singing, ooh Whatever you think of me If you were in my shoes (yes, it's only natural!) You'd walk the same damn miles I do Oh, oh, right!"

Gilded Lily: After Tav does not force him to drink Araj’s blood. He is processing his trauma. He realizes that Tav cares for him more than anyone ever has.

"Haven't I given enough, given enough? Always the fool with the slowest heart But I know you'll take me with you We'll live in spaces between walls Every city's got a graveyard The service bought and paid for Now I'm sleeping in the backyard Passing out as night turns into day"

Against the Kitchen Floor: He confesses to Tav that he was originally manipulating her but now has genuine feelings for her. He has never known the feeling of somebody wanting him for more than his body and he doesn't know how to handle it well.

"I don't owe you my heart And I don't owe you my body But you should know that I'm sorry For being careless with you Lord knows I owe you more Than I'm pretty sure I ever could give anybody But I can't pin down what normal people want from foreign objects Bottom shelf erotic products like me So, I could hold your hand but keep you at arm's length Or hang me from a branch too high to climb and shake Less rare than scarce, less diamond than rough Unlikely to be more than just the coal you fail to crush, and I swear, I'm really trying It just don't come natural to me to think that you'd want me for me I swear, I'm really trying Oh, I'm sorry, I promise, I'm doing my best I just haven't learned how to be human as you are yet"

you should see me in a crown: They find out from Raphael what his scars on his back mean, and about the Ritual of Profane Ascension. He is fantasizing about what he would do if he managed to overtake it in private. He wants the power it would grant him.

"You should see me in a crown I'm gonna run this nothing town Watch me make 'em bow One by, one by one, one by, one by You should see me in a crown Your silence is my favorite sound Watch me make 'em bow One by, one by one, one by, one by one"

Perhaps Vampire is a Bit Strong But... : Astarion fights and confronts Cazador for the centuries of abuse he put him through. 

"'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail I've seen your eyes as they fix on me, full of confusion Your snarl is just so condescending Try to explain that we're onto a win If the fee we are in near recoups what we're spending"

He can choose to complete the ritual in Cazador’s place, or kill him. Tav convinces him to not go through with the ritual, he kills Cazador:

What Was I Made For?: He kills Cazador and doesn’t complete the ritual expecting a sense of relief and gratification but feels nothing. He thought he would feel free without a master to rule over him, but he feels lost.

"What was I made for? Hm 'Cause I, I I don't know how to feel But I wanna try I don't know how to feel But someday I might Someday I might"

Two Coffins: He is coming to terms with Tav’s mortality. He is mourning the loss of the opportunity to have her forever by not going through with the ritual.

"Two coffins for sleep One for you one for me We'll get there eventually In the dark of our graves our bodies will decay I wish you'd never change How lucky I ever was to see The way that you smile at me Your little moon face shining bright at me One day soon there'll be nothing left of you and me Two coffins for sleep Two coffins for sleep All the things that I have yet to lose Will someday be gone soon Back into annihilation All things will fade Maybe it's better off that way I wish you'd stay with me"

Rain: For a moment, he regrets not going through with the ritual and feels a slight disdain for Tav for stopping him. This song is when he comes to realize it was the correct choice and is thanking her. He knows that he would have just become just like Cazador, and thanks to her he is breaking the cycle of abuse.

"For so long, I have waited So long that I almost became Just a stoic statue, fit for nobody And I don't wanna get in your way But I finally think I can say That the vicious cycle was over The moment you smiled at me"

My Instincts Are The Enemy: He is confiding in Tav that he wants to be with her forever, but explaining what that means for her. He is tied to the night, and she is tied to him. Is she ok with that?

"I'm paralyzed, engaged in civil war What can I do? Either way, I lose You lose, too Days are nights, and nights are unbearable What can I do? Chained to this mood You're chained to me Keep asking different questions The same answer I receive I need you more than ever To tell me what you've seen"

Sunlight: The Netherbrain is defeated and the tadpoles are gone from their minds. Without the tadpole he is now unable to withstand the sun. He is coping with the lack of sun by replacing it with Tav. From now on she is his sunlight.

"I had been lost to you, sunlight And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight But it is sunlight All the tales the same Told before and told again A soul that's born in cold and rain Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight And at last can grant a name To a buried and a burning flame As love and its decisive pain Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight"

Fin.

[footballfanficwriter]

The break up pt3

Summary:where Jude is Determined to get to the bottom of the reader's distress after finding her at Jobe's Match

⚠️mentions of abuse and physical abuse⚠️

A/n: This is still written from Jude's POV like pt.2 also don't play the song yet I'll let you know when to play it

We just got home from Jobe's match and he's obviously much calmer then he was when we left the house

"Ok what's the first order of business, Mr.stalker"

"Don't call me that, and the first thing we need to do is search all my fanpages"

"Why are we doing that"

"If this guy posted those pictures that we took together, which he most likely did, the fan pages will tag him and reveal his profile

"So what we're just going to wait until he posts the picture?"

"Exactly" I say

"For a detective, you're a very horrible one"

"Patience is the key to success"

"I wonder where that will get you"

After waiting for about 2 hours one of the fan accounts posted the picture of me and the guy with a tag to his profile

The rest of the night is spent trying to find any information that we can but everything is just a dead end

Y/n hasn't posted anything since we broke up, her "boyfriend" also doesn't post either unless it's on his story and he doesn't  have anything highlighted so we can't even see previous stories that he's posted

"Don't you think it's time to give it all up?, we've been at it for hours" Jobe asks

"Jobe, I think I've actually lost her, there's no way we're going to find her now, nothing on her account indicates where she could be, or where she could Be living"

"Jude I think it's time to let it go"

I sigh not knowing what to so next

"I think I'm gonna go to bed" I say

"Why don't you just find someone else to be with I'm sure it won't be that difficult"

"But that's the thing I don't want anyone else, I want her, and the time I actually want to care for her and help her she's not reachable, I feel so stupid, she was right there In front of me and I didn't do anything, I didn't approach or try to at least make contact,  I just stood there"

"You're being hard on yourself"

"This is the punishment I have to face for what I did"

"You went to therapy"

"It clearly isn't enough"

"You'll get over it Jude, sooner or later you will get over it and you'll look back on this moment and you'll laugh"

I give him a tight lipped smile as I can see that he's trying to cheer me up, I mean I love Jobe but sometimes the idiot is just annoying, most of the time he's supportive and is always there as my comfort

I call it a night and go to bed and fall asleep, well I try to fall asleep, I just lie awake staring at the ceiling

For the next 3-4 days my family and I are spending quality time and sharing family moments and making memories

"Jude, c'mon mate we're  gonna be late for the reservation"

"Bro what are you on about I'm the only one that's ready amongst the four of us"

After everyone is dressed and ready to go to the restaurant that we usually go to when we spend family time

When we arrive we order our food and coverstation starts flowing

I glance out the window and see a woman walking with her child in a pram/stroller

That's Y/n, she looks totally oblivious to her environment around her and doesn't seem to notice the truck coming up next to her as she's crossing the street

I quickly get up and run out of the restaurant to try and save the baby that is about to be killed

I run as fast as I can and make it just in time to pull the pram/stroller back onto the pavement/sidewalk

All that seems to have snapped y/n out of her trans and she looks at me like she's only just noticing my presence now

(Play the song)

"What are you doing here Jude"

"I was saving this baby"

"From what?"

"The truck"

"What truck?"

"The one that was about to kill the baby"

She sight and whispers "not again" under her breath

"Give me my baby back" she says

"Your baby?"

"Yeah"

I hand the baby back to her and she takes him and places him back into the pram/stroller

"Hey listen why don't you come back home with us, you look out of it right now and it's obviously not safe for the baby, i'll drive you back home"

"No thanks"

"C'mon y/n don't be like that, I promise I'm not going to do anything, you're free to leave any time you want"

"Fine" she says

I call the rest of my family and they greet Y/n, we go back home after our dinner date was cut jot due to the events that took place

When we arrive back home mum won't let this child go, she just refuses to put him down

Y/n sits on the couch like she's scared she'll ruin something

"Can I get you something?" I ask

"No thank you"

"C'mon y/n, don't be like that, let's talk"

"Jude I've got a lot of things on my plate right now to be stressing or talking about the past"

"I don't like the way we ended things"

"We wouldn't have had to end things if you had just kept it in your pants"

I look down in my lap not being able to face her and look her in the eyes

"I'm sorry"

"How many times have I  heard those words"

"This time I mean it"

"Whatever, can I have my child back now, I wanna leave, coming here was a mistake"

"Before you go I have one more thing to ask"

"What?"

"Is he mine"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because he looks like me"

"So?"

"That's usually an indicator of parental relation"

"Give me back my baby"

"Answer the question"

"I don't owe you anthing"

"I deserve to know, did you cheat on me?"

"Oh please Jude I am not like you, I don't cheat on people I'm in a relationship with"

"Then why won't you tell me"

"Because I don't want to"

"That's not an answer"

"Well then shame, give me my baby"

"Answer the question is that little boy in there my son"

She's silent

"Answer"

"Yes, he is"

To be continued...

Kidding, continue reading

"You kept that all away from me?, didn't you think I deserved to know?"

"Remember the day I left you, we had reservations made at a restaurant and we couldn't go because you'd forgotten we had plans and you came home drunk"

I nod my head indicating that I understand

"That was the day I was gonna tell you, that you and I would be parents"

"But still you should've told me"

"You came back home drunk, you'd forgotten the dinner reservations, you came back home with a hikey on your neck and having a feminine smell on your clothes, I obviously was'nt gonna tell you"

I step closer to her and place my hands on her arms and slightly grip on her arms

She flinches like I've just hit her

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah"

"I'm so sorry"

"I refuse to do this with you Jude" she says moving away from my hold

I try to ignore her rejection but I can't it's right there and I can't ignore it

"Can I have my child back now"

"He's our child"

"You were not there when he was born, all your rights of being a father have been revoked"

"I didn't know if I knew I would have been there"

"Well it's not my fault you decided to cheat, you made the choices you made and I never pressured you to do any of the things you did"

"So what are you going to do now?, this boy needs a father in his life, how are you going to fill the shoes of both a mother and a father?"

"I won't need to, because he already has a father"

"Who?"

"Chase"

"Who, the guy you were with at the stadium?"

"Yeah"

"You can't do that"

"Watch me, now I'm leaving"

"You convinced another guy that he was the father of our child"

"Oh no he knows, he's just there for support and to fill in the shoes you can't"

"Bit harsh innit"

"Whatever Jude"

She's about to go to the Kitchen to get the baby from my mom but I pull her by her long sleeve and it reveals her shoulder where I see a bruise

"What's that?" I ask

She looks at her shoulder and quickly pulls her shirt up

I have to get out of here" she says and walks away but before she can do that I pull her back

I take her arm and pull her sleeve up to reveal more bruises

"What happened"

"I bumped myself"

"You must have bumped yourself a lot of times then"

"Yeah I did"

"You're lying"

"What?"

"You're lying"

"What makes you say that"

"Your lip slightly twitches when you lie, but you have to watch it closely or else you miss it"

"You're such a creep"

"It's not creepy to notice, things about a person it just means I pay attention to the small things"

"Yeah well I notice small things as well"

"Oh yeah like what?"

"Like I notice how before every match you go to the pitch and you step in with your left foot then right, point each foot before crossing the line, poke the grass and wipe of the dirt of your pants"

"Yeah well that's not really something" I say

"Oh what about, when you're nervous"

"What do I do when I'm nervous"

"You wipe your eyebrows with your right hand, wiping your left first then your right"

"Ok fine then, I guess you do pay attention"

"See, I always pay attention to the little things"

"Yeah,and it seems like I can as well" I say

She pulls her hand out of mine and walks away

"Y/n, is he abusing you?"

She stops in her tracks and doesn't turn around

"No, he doesn't"

"Turn around"

She slowly turns around and looks down to the floor, I walk closer to her and lift her head up with my finger

"Does he abuse you"

"No" she says

"Your lip twitched"

"No it didn't"

"Y/n it did"

"No it didn't"

"So he abuses you"

"Sometimes"

"How often is somtimes?"

"Depends on what happens"

"What would provoke him to beat you?"

"If his favorite football team doesn't win, if I don't do something the way he wants me too, if the baby is crying and I can't keep him quiet"

"Y/n, that's not right"

"It's fine"

"No it's not"

"Jude it's fine, I've gotten use it"

"I'm gonna kill him, where is he"

"Jude stop , I have to live with it, I can't leave him, he took everything from me, he  forced me to quit my job, took away my savings and took away any assets that I had for myself"

It's quiet for some time and I look at her and she looks like she's thinking about a lot

"Is my taste in men really that bad, am I really that desperate for love that even when there are clear and obvious signs that I'm not loved I still stay?" She asks herself crying

"What do you mean? I ask

" I was in love with a man that cheates then got pregnant by him, then I moved out and got into a relationship with an abuser and now I have nothing"

"Y/n, there aren't any words in this world to Express how sorry I am for everything that I've done to you, I just really need you to know that, and I'm working on myself i really am, I've started going to therapy and my therapist says that I've made a lot of progress"

"That's very good for you Jude, I'm proud of you for finally taking my advice, I know how scared you were"

She moves to the sofa and sits in silence, I move to the sofa next to her and sit next to her and we sit In silence until I break it

"Come live with me"

"What"

"I'm not saying get back together with me, I'm just saying come live with me, you and our baby boy, we'll co parent and that's as far as our relationship will go, we'll share the responsibilities of parents and we can help eachother"

"I don't know Jude"

"Please, I want to prove that I can be a good father and that I can be there for my son, I want to be present in my child's life"

"What about Chase?"

As she says that her phone rings, she looks at her phone then back at me

"It's him"

"Hello?"

"Yeah, I decided to take Enzo for a walk, he was restless and he didn't want to sleep so I thought I should take him out a bit"

"Yeah, we're on our way home soon"

"Yeah, I'll cook"

"He won't make a noise, yeah I promise it won't happen again"

"Bye, I love you too"

She hangs the phone and looks at me

"You're not going back there, I won't allow it, if I let you go there how do I know that you'll be safe?"

"Jude, please don't make this difficult"

"Y/n, I'm not letting you leave this house to go to an abuser"

"Stop"

"No"

"Jude"

"Y/n"

"Fine, but if he comes for me or my son you will be held responsible"

"Deal, so does that mean you're moving in with me?"

"Well I have no where else to go, my mother disowned me, and she doesn't know about Enzo, so yeah I guess we are"

"Great, we leave next week, so get everything you need cause we won't be back in England for some time"

"Ok but how am I suppose to do that with Chase as our obstacle, all our clothes and things are there in the house"

"We'll sneak into the house when he's at work and take your things"

"Ok"

"We'll leave tomorrow, for now just get comfortable and don't stress about anything"

"Thank you Jude"

"You're welcome y/n"

"Where is Enzo?"

"With my mom, c'mon I'll show you the guest room"

We walk upstairs and I show her to the guest room

"Here you are"

"Thank you"

"You're welcome, get some rest, I'll take care of Enzo"

"Ok thanks, remember he doesn't like to be held like a baby, also when you feed him use a spoon not a teaspoon, he doesn't like it, place a bib on him because he always makes a mess and if you want to put him to sleep hold him close to your chest and play late 90s-Early2000s R&B songs, he's just weird like that I don't know I think he gets it from you"

"Ok, don't worry I'll look after him"

"Thank you"

"No problem"

I walk out of the room and head downstairs to find everyone cooing at Enzo

"Are they staying?" Mom asks

"Yeah, they are, actually we're moving I

together"

"What?"

"They are coming with us to Madrid next week"

"Oh ok that's great" mom says

"So is he your child?"

"Yeah he is"

"Why didn't she tell you about him?" Dad asks

"Dad I wasn't honest with you when I told you the reason for My break up with y/n"

"Why did you do?"

"I cheated on her multiple  times and eventually she got fed up and left but it turns out when she left she was pregnant with my child and she didn't tell me, because I had upset her"

"My gosh Jude, how can you mess up like that"

"I know, I know but now we're ok we're moving in together and I've been going to therapy so I'm working on bettering myself"

"So you're getting back together?"

"No we're not, we just gonna be co parenting and sharing responsibilities because Y/n's boyfriend has been abusive towards her and just because we're not together anymore, doesn't mean I can't protect her"

"Well I'm glad, you know I've always wanted to be a grandma" mom says

"But taking care of a child is not easy" dad says

"That's why we'll have eachother"

"And me" mom says

I give her a thankful look and she smiles at me

"We going to get her and Enzo's things tomorrow, it's just clothes so we'll be fine"

"And what if you meat her boyfriend there, then what?"

"We won't, and even if we do he won't try anything,especially with me there"

"Ok Jude, but just be careful, you don't know what he's capable of" Mom says

"I will, I promise,Where's Enzo"

"Who?"

"The baby"

"That's his name?"

"Yeah"

"Oh how cute"

"Yeah, it is anyway where is he, he probably hasn't eaten"

I pick him up and walk to the kitchen to try and find something to each, I finally decide to in mash potatoes since he can't eat solid foods yet

After making the mashed potatoes I sit on the couch and place a towel on my leg because y/n said it gets messy when he eats

after feeding him and swiping his mouth I try to put him to sleep

So I walk to my room, switch the speaker on and put them on low volume so it's not so loud, I take my shirt off and carry him and he lays his head on my chest right by my heart and I start swaying from side to side while lightly singing along with the song

He eventually falls asleep, but I don't want to lay him down yet, and as if on queue the door opens to reveal y/n

"Hi" she says

"Hey"

"Is he asleep"

"Yeah, he is, your advice worked, he wasn't restless at all"

"Wait until you actually see his restless side, it won't be so pretty

"Yeah I can imagine, hey are ready to leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah a bit nervous but I'm ready"

"Ok, well if you need anything just let me know"

"Yeah, I just wanted to check on Enzo, Denise told me he was with you"

"Yeah"

"Ok well uhm if you need me I'll be in the guest room"

"I'll bring him in a few moments"

"Ok"

She leaves the room and closes the door on her way out leaving us both with her scent

I sigh and continue swaying from side to side with my son in my arms

After about an hour and 30 minutes I walk out of the room and walk to the guest room where y/n is

I knock on the door and she opened the door

"I just came to bring him back"

"Oh yeah, uhm you can place him on the bed"

I walk into the room and place Enzo on t3 bed and he coos

"Thanks "

"Yeah,oh and by the way we're leaving at 8:00 am Tomorrow"

"Ok, I'll see you Tomorrow"

"Great"

I leave the room and go to my own and just let the say sink in

After some time I decide to go to bed and sleep but like always I can't and I just end up starting at the ceiling until I hear my bedroom door open

"Jude?" I hear y/n voice in the dark

"Mh"

"Are you asleep?"

"No, what do you need"

"Enzo won't stop crying and I've tried everything but nothing is working, do you mind taking him, maybe he'll settle down"

"Sure bring him over" I say

She walks over towards me and places Enzo next to me, but he cries even more

Y/n picks him up and starts bouncing up and down trying to calm him down

"Come here" I say

"What?"

"Just trust me"

"Ok"

She gets into bed next to me

"Now what" she asks

"Lye on the bed and get comfortable"

She sighs but does it anyway

I do the same and enzo lies on his back and stops crying immediately

Cheeky little thing

After a few minutes I finally fall asleep.

The next day

It 7:30 in the morning and y/n and I need to leave the house in 30 minutes

We reach the apartment at 8:30 and she opens the door to the apartment and to say it was a mess would be an understatement

There were empty beer bottles lying everywhere on the floor broken glass, a couch that looked like it came from the junk yard every piece of furniture was horrible

"I'll get started" y/n says breaking me out of my trans

"Ok"

I walk around the apartment and the more I walk the more in disbelief I am, the fact that Enzo had to live here and how much abuse Y/n had to endure

I walk into a room that looks like it was once a baby's room but the cradle is in a pile of wood like it was smashed and in the corner is a mattress with a huge stain of blood in the middle with a blanket and a pillow

Y/n walks into the room

"I'm done packing"

"So quickly?"

"Yeah well there was not much anyway"

"Ok, let's go then"

We leave the apartment and drive back home in silence

"So I noticed there was no bed there, where did you and Enzo sleep"

"On the Mattress that you saw in the baby room"

"The one that had a huge stain on it?"

"Yeah"

"How did the blood get there"

"He'd hit me very hard one day and it was painful I could barely recognize my face in the mirror and instead of putting ice on my wounds I just slept on the mattress and bled there and I tried to wash the stain but it never came off , so I just cuddled him like teddy bear"

"I'm sorry, you had to go through that?"

"It's fine"

When we arrive at home Enzo is fast asleep thanks to my mother

"Hey mom"

"Hi love, you alright?"

"Yeah, we got everything we needed"

"Oh that's great, Enzo is asleep"

"Ok, thank you Denise"

"No problem love"

"Uhm y/n, I forgot to tell you but I got a message from Madrid yesterday and we have to cut our stay short, we need to leave the day after tomorrow"

"So this is our last day here?"

"Yeah it is but we'll come back eventually"

"It's fine, it's not like I have anything keeping me here"

"Ok, just be ready"

"Yeah I will, anyway I'm going to take a shower"

"Ok"

She walks upstairs and heads to the bathroom

"You still like her don't you?"

"Unfortunately, more then I would like to admit it"

"Just take it slow ok, think about your baby boy and everything will fall into place"

"Yeah, but she seems resistant"

"She's heartbroken Jude, she's obviously going to start pushing all her Male interests away"

"Yeah, I guess you're right"

2 days later

"Bye love, we'll see you soon ok , and we'll call you as soon as we arrive

"Ok mom, I love you"

"I love you too Jobe"

We say goodbye to Jobe and dad because we're going back to Spain

The time I spent here was nice I really enjoyed myself and I found y/n after I had no hope of finding her and I found out I had a son which is also amazing but I'm concerned for y/n I think she needs therapy after the things she went through she'll definitely need it

After we arrive in Madrid, we drop mom off at her house we go back to mine and the minute we walk in y/n scopes the house

"I haven't been here in a while"

"Everything is still where you left it"

"Thanks, we'll tale the guest room"

"Cool"

She walks away with her and Enzo's bags then comes back to get Enzo

"Goodnight Jude"

"Goodnight Y/n"

She walks away toward the guest room

"Oh hey I was thinking, what do you think of going to Therapy, you know maybe get someone to talk to about your trauma and stuff"

"I'll think about it"

"Ok"

"Thanks for the suggestion"

"No problem"

"And I promise I'll be out of your hair soon, I'll find a job and move out, but you'll still get to see Enzo, we'll have 50/50 % of custody over him"

"No don't be in a rush to move out, you can stay for as long as you need to"

"I don't think that's gonna work, well goodnight"

"Goodnight"

And she's gone, she's so close yet so far

[mikeyswayy]

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(UPDATED INTRO POST)

(𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘦���𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨...)

DNI'S are literally only like MSI fans.. oh and if your homophobic, transphobic, racist. anything like that.. oh and if your possibly one of my family members

⚰︎

I don't have a name, call me cunt or something I don't care

•

MCR is my favorite band, I like fob too and I forgot but I love any of Frankie's bands too! And Gees solo music!!!!!

⚰︎

My favorite movies are (these aren't in order btw) Donnie Darko, star Wars, life on the murder scene. (I like the Chucky movies too, I was raised on them but they're not my favorite)

˙

Favorite TV shows, the walking dead (all the spin-offs too) , umbrella academy, Chucky (I'm a big nerd for child's play and Chucky btw) / (I can't think of others right now but I think I have some more maybe..)

˙

Favorite comics, the walking dead, the true lives of the fabulous Killjoys, the true lives of the fabulous Killjoys: national anthem, umbrella academy (I have more but like I forget a lot so..)

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Favorite games, the walking dead telltale games (I have others that I'm not gonna name here bc I wanna say it somewhere else.. But you'll probably know soon enough)

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Favorite colors are red and black

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My favorite YouTubers are jake webber and Johnnie guilbert but I have a few more and they do pranks but like I don't think anyone that's here probably likes them so.. Well carry on.

˙

Favorite album is I brought you my bullets, you brought me your love

˙

Favorite songs are, my way home is through you, not that kind of girl, Emily, black dragon fighting society, all the angels and tomorrow's money

⚰︎

𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗠 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗦 :

I've always wanted to play bass

˙

I wanna make comics, draw and maybe write some.. :D

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I'm a minor, don't be a Creepazoid.. but i dont care if your over 18 :P

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Literally obsessed with Mikey way..

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I like sour candies, war heads I like a lot. Sour candy also isn't sour to me..

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I like vampires (𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘦) and that stuff, bats too I guess

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Blood is cool too

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I draw sometimes (𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦?)

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I edit sometimes..

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I'm awake all night listening to MCR, and all day almost too..

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Petekey.. ♡

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Frerard ♥︎

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My favorite soda is root beer

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I'm running out of things to say now.. Let's carry on..

⚰︎

This is the end.. So.. Bye? I don't know.. Want the lyrics to the foundations of decay? There, it's down there ↓

See the man who stands upon the hill

He dreams of all the battles won

But fate had left its scars upon his face

With all the damage they had done

And so tired with age, he turns the page

Let the flesh submit itself to gravity

Let our bodies lay, mark our hearts with shame

Let our blood in vain, you find God in pain

Now, if your convictions were a passing phase

May your ashes feed the river in the morning rays

And as the vermin crawls, we lay in the foundations of decay

He was there the day the towers fell

And so he wandered down the road

And we would all build towers of our own

Only to watch the roots corrode

But it's much too late, you're in the race

So we'll press and press 'til you can't take it anymore

Let our bodies lay, mark our hearts with shame

Let our blood in vain, you find God in pain

And if, by his own hand, his spirit flies

Take his body as a relic to be canonized

Now, and so he gets to die a saint

But she will always be a whore

Against faith (cage all the animals)

Against all odds ('cause the message must be pure)

Against change (you can wander through the ruins)

We are free (but the poison is the cure)

You must fix your heart

And you must build an altar where it swells

When the storm, it gains and the sky, it rains

Let it flood, let it flood, let it wash away

And as you stumble through your last crusade

Will you welcome your extinction in the morning rays?

And as the swarm it calls, we lay in the foundations

Yes, it comforts me much more

Yes, it comforts me much more

To lay in the foundations of decay

Get up, coward

Now, so long and goodnight...

(I'll probably be adding more once I remember more shit, but for now Run, run, bunny, run)

(𝘈𝘴𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧...)

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[oldiesstationlover11607]

HIII BFFF!!!🤗🤗 i hope u are well!!!

sorry for not being active 😣😣 a gal has been booked and BUSY. but hopefully i’ll have some more free time soon 🙏🙏

i was going to write something like this… howeverrrr i have a lot of ideas already & i think you can do a really good job with this!!!

but basically you can pick either josh or tyler & the reader is a pop rock kinda artist & tyler/josh have always admired her from afar. so they invite the reader to open for them on tour. there’s some romantic tension & reader plays a song dedicated to tyler/josh & the fans r all 😮😮😮

something like that!!!! you can do whatever with it, i think there’s a lot of directions you can take this:3

p.s how are you feeling abt getting a LIVE ALBUM… still in shock.

Smithereens - Tyler Joseph x Singer!Reader

Warnings: Nothing hehe

Word Count: 3648 - pretty sure this is officially the longest fic I've written and posted on here :)

A/N: OH MA GAWD THIS WAS FUN AF FREN... this is so freaking cute I can't even deal with it! I'm in massive shock at the fact we're getting a live album btw my show isn't even until November and things just keep getting better and better with the tour lol I can't believe we're getting some of the transitions like natn to hds like WHAT THE WOW oh and the possibility of hometown x slowtown (um slowtown on streaming???? Tyler the man u ur–and josh bc ily). I cannot wait. oh and heathens into next semester... I'm so excited bc the setlist is so good it's gonna rock and be on repeat forever. Anyways, enough rambling onto the amazing fic I am incredibly proud of! 😁

“What!” I barked into my phone, rubbing my eyes until my vision went from blurry to clear. It had been a crazy night before, staying up late partying with my friends before falling to sleep at 3am. What had woken me up was a series of buzzing noises from my phone, buzz after buzz after buzz until it started ringing. 

“Y/N? It’s Mary.” Shit. My manager. 

“Oh! Sorry! It was a hectic night,” I laughed, running a hand through my hair. 

Her laugh echoed through the speakers of my phone. “So I’ve heard. It’s all over social media.” I shook my head, knowing exactly who had posted what to their thousands of followers. 

“What’s up?” I asked, flopping down onto my perfectly plump pillows. 

“I’ve booked you a tour!” I could tell she was ecstatic, even more so that I was. We’d been hoping to book a tour for the last year and a half and finally we’d done it. It was hard trying to find bands or musicians who were open to having newer and alternative artists open for them–especially someone whose genre is somewhat all over the place. 

“What?” I shot up in bed, wide awake now, the sleepiness immediately replaced by a rush of excitement and nerves. “With who?”

Mary hesitated for a moment, letting the anticipation build. “Well... how do you feel about opening for Twenty One Pilots?”

My heart practically leapt out of my chest. Twenty One Pilots? As in Josh Dun and Tyler Joseph? I’d always admired them, like... from afar. Sure, we’d crossed paths a few times at festivals and award shows, but nothing like this. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if they’d heard of me before.

“You’re kidding,” I breathed out, my voice barely a whisper.

“Not at all,” she replied, her tone giddy with excitement for me. “They specifically asked for you. Apparently, Tyler’s been a big fan of your music for a while. This could be huge, Y/N.”

I could hardly process it. “Wait… they asked for me? Tyler listens to my music? Sorry WHAT?!” Tyler Joseph? A fan of my music? It felt unreal. “I—” I stammered, feeling overwhelmed. “When does it start?”

“Next month. But you’re going to need to rehearse like crazy to get ready.”

“I’ll be ready.” I hung up the phone and collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. I was going on tour with Twenty One Pilots. Tyler and Josh. The guys I had admired for years were now... going to be watching me from backstage? I felt a shiver of nervous energy run down my spine.

A few weeks later, rehearsals were in full swing, and I was gearing up for the first show. 

“Y/N! They’re here!” My friend Joseph had screeched running into the rehearsal space. “No way.” I covered my mouth to try and hide the growing psychotic smile on my face. I was going to pass out from excitement. This wasn’t happening. I turned to the entrance to see the two of them strutting in, shaking the hands and bumping the fists of crew members they both knew and didn’t know. My heart was pounding as I watched them walk in, every movement somehow both casual and magnetic. Josh, with his surprisingly natural brown hair and classic easy smile, waved at a few familiar faces, while Tyler, wearing his usual baseball cap and oversized hoodie, exuded that quiet intensity I’d always admired. They looked like they belonged, like they owned the room without even trying. And here I was, standing in the middle of the rehearsal space, trying not to lose my cool.

Joseph was practically vibrating with excitement beside me, nudging me with his elbow. “Dude, go say hi!” he whispered, eyes wide.

“I-I can’t. Look at them,” I replied, clenching my jaw through every world to hide my delusion.

I swallowed hard, my palms already sweaty. What was I supposed to say? Hey, I'm Y/N, a rando who's admired you from afar for years? Oh, and thanks for asking me to open for you on tour, no big deal.

Before I could overthink it any more, Tyler's eyes landed on me. My breath hitched as he gave me a nod and a small smile, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my pulse race. He elbowed Josh, who turned and followed his gaze.

“Oh man, it’s her!” Josh said, grinning as they walked over. Sorry, what? 

“Y/N, right?” Tyler said, his voice warm but somehow deeper in person.

I turned to look around the room as if trying to figure out if he was talking to me or not. “Uh… yeah?” I said, it came out more like a question than an answer. “Yeah, that's me,” I repeated, trying to sound casual even though my heart was doing backflips. “Thanks for, uh... asking me to open for you guys. It's an honor.”

Tyler exchanged a glance with Josh, something unspoken passing between them. “We’ve been following your music for a while now,” Tyler admitted, rubbing the back of his neck like he was just as unsure of what to say as I was. “You–You’re really talented.”

I blinked, trying to process the fact that Tyler Joseph just said that to me. “Thanks. That means a lot, really.”

“We’re stoked to have you on board,” Josh chimed in, flashing that friendly, easygoing smile. “I think the fans are gonna lose it when they see you perform.”

“Yeah,” Tyler added, his eyes meeting mine again. “It's gonna be a good tour.”

There was something in the way he said it, the weight behind his words, that made my skin tingle. I felt that spark again, the same one I’d felt from watching him in interviews and onstage, but this time it was real. Tangible. 

Over the next few days, I kept catching Tyler’s eyes during rehearsals, our conversations short but loaded with something unspoken. It was subtle—just the way his gaze lingered a little too long, or how his smile felt more personal when it was directed at me. I wasn’t sure if I was crazy–my immense crush on the multi-talented lead singer getting the best of me–or if he had noticed the same thing. The energy between us felt electric, charged with something we weren’t quite saying out loud.

One evening, after my home city show, I was sitting out on the stage–the venue completely empty. I was alone, staring out at the abandoned seats and floor, still able to feel the energy from less than a few hours ago. Letting out a deep sigh, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Tyler standing there, hands in his hoodie pockets, his expression unreadable.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked softly.

I shook my head, patting the spot beside me. “Not at all.”

He sat down, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the proximity making my heart race. We sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, the faint hum of the venue’s equipment the only sound. I could feel his eyes on me as I picked up my ukulele which was sitting next to me and started absentmindedly strumming a few chords.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier,” Tyler started, his voice quiet, like he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal. “But… your performance today? It was incredible.”

I glanced over at him, biting back a smile. “I didn’t know you were watching.”

“I’m always watching,” he said, his gaze intense, sending a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at me. “I’m trying… I’m so worried that I’m gonna mess up and make a fool of myself in front of your fans.”

“You’re not and you won’t,” he said quickly, his eyes searching mine. “Far from it, actually. Last time I checked twitter they were talking about how much they love you.”

We fell into another heavy silence, the air between us thick with tension. My pulse was racing, and I felt like there were a million things I wanted to say, but none of them made sense in my head. Tyler shifted slightly, his knee brushing against mine, and even that small touch sent sparks through me.

“Is it weird,” I started slowly, my voice fragile, “that I feel like I’ve known you for longer than I have?” 

The question clearly caught him off guard. His breath hitched, but I forced myself to stay calm. “No, it’s not weird,” he said, glancing down at the floor. “I feel that way too.” Tyler smiled, a small, almost shy smile that made my heart flutter. 

“It’s just… I’ve been following your music for so long, and now that you’re here… I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated, his eyes flicking to my lips for just a second before I answered. “Better. Way better than I imagined.”

The air between us felt charged, like something was about to happen, but neither of us made the next move. I could feel the weight of his words settling into the space between us, making everything feel more real, more intense.

I had to break the tension before it swallowed me whole.

“Speaking of better,” I said, trying to lighten the mood but failing to mask the shakiness in my voice. “I was thinking of doing something special for tomorrow’s show.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s that?”

I glanced at him, feeling a rush of boldness as the idea solidified in my mind. “I was thinking… I’d cover one of your songs.”

His eyes widened, clearly surprised. “You’d cover one of our songs?”

“Yeah,” I said, biting my lip nervously.

Tyler blinked, taken aback, and for a moment I wondered if I’d gone too far. But then his expression softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Which song?” he smirked, laying back on the stage.

“Something off Trench, it’s not on your setlist if that’s what you’re worried about,” I laughed, joining him. 

“Why?” he asked, his voice low, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear me say it.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I was about to admit. “Because it’s personal. And I’ve listened to your music for so long. It’s always been a dream of mine to get to perform one of your songs live.”

For a second, the world seemed to stop. Tyler’s smile faded, replaced by something deeper, something I couldn’t quite read. His eyes searched mine, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for his response.

“You… you’d really do that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice steady even though my nerves were all over the place. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept looking at me like he was trying to figure something out. Then, finally, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that made my breath catch.

“It’s more than okay,” he said softly. “I think it’s… perfect.”

The tension between us didn’t break; if anything, it intensified. But it was different now, like we’d crossed some invisible line, and there was no going back.

The next night, the arena was buzzing with energy. I could feel the excitement in the air as I took the stage, the fans screaming and cheering, completely unaware of the surprise I had in store.

After a few songs, I paused, taking a deep breath as I stepped up to the mic. The crowd quieted, waiting for what was next.

“How’re we doing tonight Seattle?” A roar of screams and cheers rang through the venue. “I’ve got a little surprise for you guys tonight," I said, my voice echoing through the speakers. “I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. I’m going to do a cover of a song that means so much to me. A song that a certain band didn’t put on their setlist this tour. Any guesses who I’m covering?” I laughed. 

The crowd erupted into cheers, and I smiled, glancing toward the side of the stage where Tyler stood, watching me. Our eyes met, and I felt that familiar spark, the unspoken connection between us stronger than ever. 

“You want to come up and play piano for this one Ty?” I asked, the crowd erupting in cheers. Tyler shook his head, hiding his face in his hands. “No? Oh come on, you know you want to. The sheet music’s up there…” I turned to the audience, “I haven’t told him what song I’m playing yet,” I laughed. “You sure you don’t wanna come play?” The fans started chanting for him to join me. 

“Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!” 

“Oh fine!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the crowd. He climbed on stage and jogged over to the piano, shaking his head with an embarrassed smile. “You're really doing this, huh?” he teased as he adjusted the mic on the piano, sitting down with an exaggerated sigh. I walked over to him, turning the mic off for a second. 

I grinned lightly as the energy of the crowd buzzed in the air. “Oh, I am definitely doing this. And you’re gonna enjoy it.”

Tyler's hands hovered over the keys, clearly waiting for the cue. “Smithereens? Really?” he laughed and I nodded, proud of myself. Tyler turned the mic back on as I waltzed back to my spot. 

“Alright,” I said, glancing over at him. “This one’s for you Tyler.” 

The crowd went wild, their reaction so loud it almost drowned out my words. Tyler chuckled into the mic, shaking his head again in disbelief, but his fingers were already on the keys, playing the opening melody. The soft, familiar notes filled the arena, and my heart started racing again, but for a different reason this time. This was personal. Intimate. And Tyler was right there, playing along with me.

I began singing, my voice steady but carrying all the emotion I had for the moment. I looked over at Tyler as I sang the words, and he glanced up, meeting my gaze for just a heartbeat. There was something in his eyes—something deeper than just admiration, something almost vulnerable. My chest tightened as I sang the next line, the weight of the song suddenly feeling more significant, more real than ever. 

Tyler’s playing was flawless, but there was a hint of tension in his posture, like he was trying to keep something in check. I knew exactly how he felt; the energy between us was palpable, the tension from all those unspoken moments finally reaching a crescendo. The crowd sang along, but it was like they were in the background, as if this performance was happening in our own bubble. Just me and Tyler. 

Every word felt like it was meant for him, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him between the lyrics, feeling the connection spark every time our eyes met. When I hit the chorus, the crowd sang so loud I almost couldn’t hear myself. Tyler grinned, his fingers dancing over the keys, the music swelling around us, and for a second, I forgot we were even on stage. It was just him and me, sharing this raw, unfiltered moment. 

As the song came to a close, the final notes ringing out, I turned to face Tyler fully. His gaze was locked on mine, his expression unreadable but intense. The applause and cheers from the audience roared to life, but I barely heard them. Tyler stood up from the piano, slowly walking over to me, and without thinking, I pulled him into a tight hug. The crowd went wild again, their cheers reaching a fever pitch, but it was just background noise to the heartbeat pounding in my ears.

As Tyler wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded into the background—the roar of the crowd turned into a distant hum as I buried my face in his shoulder, savoring the moment. His warmth enveloped me, grounding me in the excitement and emotion of what we had just shared.

When we finally pulled back, Tyler kept his hands on my shoulders, his gaze holding mine for just a moment longer than necessary. A shy, yet genuine smile played on his lips, and my heart fluttered. I could feel my cheeks heating up, but I couldn't look away from him.

“Thank you for that,” Tyler said, his voice low but filled with an intensity that made my heart race. “You were incredible.”

I nodded, still breathless. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I didn’t just like it Y/N, it means more than just liking it,” he whispered into my ear. 

The energy in the venue surged as I turned to the audience, their cheers echoing through the air. With a grin, I stepped back to the mic, trying to compose myself. “Wow, thank you, Seattle! You guys have been amazing tonight!” The crowd roared, and I took a deep breath, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“This is the end of my set, but stick around because the real show is about to start! Twenty One Pilots is up next!” I waved to the fans, their cheers drowning out my words. “Thank you all so much! I love you!”

As I stepped away from the mic, Tyler clapped a hand on my back, leading me off stage. The moment we were out of view from the audience, the energy shifted. Tyler turned to me, his expression more serious, and I could see a mix of admiration and something deeper in his eyes.

“You made that song come alive in a way I never expected. You’re something else aren’t you?” he said, stepping closer, the air thick with unspoken words. 

I chuckled, shrugging slightly and running a hand through my hair. “I just felt right to play,” I admitted, heart pounding. “It means a lot to me, Tyler.”

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate whisper. “You’re more than just a talented artist, Y/N. You’re something else entirely. That performance made me realize how lucky I am to have you on this tour. And honestly?” He paused, searching my eyes, the tension palpable. “It just further confirmed how I feel about you, not just as an artist, but as a person.”

My breath caught in my throat, a rush of warmth flooding through me at his words. “I admire you too, Tyler. You and Josh have been a huge inspiration to me.”

Tyler smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made my heart race. “No, really. That was more than just a performance to me. It felt personal. There’s something here, between us.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest as I took a step closer to him. “I feel it too. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it.”

He brushed a thumb over my cheek, his gaze unwavering. “Then let’s not overthink it. I’m here, you’re here, we clearly both feel something for each other,” he brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear. “Every time you look at me, it’s like you see straight through to my soul.”

I swallowed hard, his words washing over me. “I could say the same about you.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice deepening. “Because I want to explore whatever this is between us. I want to see where it leads.”

With the distance between us closing, I felt the thrill of the moment, the intensity of his words and the warmth of his presence enveloping me. I wanted to lean in, to let him know just how much I felt, but the excitement and nervousness tangled together in a way that made me hesitant.

Tyler stepped forward, closing the gap even further. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’ve got to know that every word of that song was a reflection of how I feel about you. It might not have been written with anyone in mind but it’s exactly how I feel about you. And I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you how much you mean to me.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, sending sparks of electricity through my entire being. The kiss was soft, yet filled with an undeniable passion, and in that moment, everything else faded away. All the worries, the nerves—everything was drowned out by the intensity of his kiss.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he smiled down at me, his expression both playful and serious. “I think I’m going to enjoy this tour a lot more now.”

I laughed, the tension lifting as I felt lighter, happier than I had in a long time. “Me too, Tyler. Me too.” I held onto his hand, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand. “Now, you’re supposed to go on in 10 minutes so you should probably go find Josh.”

“Oh damn you’re right,” he looked up at the clock on the wall noticing the time. He started down the hall in the direction of their dressing room but stopped to turn back towards me. “I–We–We’re going out after the show, okay?” 

I nodded, letting out a quiet chuckle. “I’ll come find you. But you really need to go,” I smiled. 

“I really need to go,” he repeated, looking slightly sad that he had to leave. And with that, he walked back into his dressing room, the excitement of the night still crackling in the air. 

//

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN TEAM!

[ultravioletqueen]

Hace mucho tiempo que escucho canciones del musical de heathers y mi favorita de todas es "i say no" ya que es cuando verónica reconoce que no hay nada que hacer con jd,reconoce que el no va a cambiar y que no vale la pena estar con alguien que la usa como excusa para hacer cosas malas,simplemente me encantan estas escenas en las que los personajes confrontan a sus parejas abusivas y reconocen que merecen algo mejor.

Ahora últimamente he vuelto a consumir contenido de she-ra y las princesas del poder y me doy cuenta de que ODIO EL CATRADORA Y TODO LO QUE TENGA QUE VER CON CATRA.

¿En que se relaciona esto con la canción de heathers i say no? Simple,esta canción es el ejemplo perfecto de como pudieron manejar la "relación" de catra y adora al final,catra es irredimible y adora merecía decirle sus verdades en la cara,solo dejaré la letra algo modificada para este escenario ideal que tengo de adora dejando a catra en el polvo por todo lo que le ha hecho pasar,no planeo traducir la letra al español porque sino sonaría muy raro.

Para esto me inspire en los post de @spop-romanticizes-abuse y @anti-catradora-collection

I have been listening to songs from the Heathers musical for a long time and my favorite of all is "I Say No" since it is when Veronica recognizes that there is nothing to do with JD, she recognizes that he is not going to change and that he is not worth being around with someone who uses her as an excuse to do bad things, I just love these scenes where the characters confront their abusive partners and recognize that they deserve better.

Now lately I've been consuming She-Ra and the Princesses of Power content again and I realize that I HATE CATRAdora AND EVERYTHING THAT HAS TO DO WITH CATRA.

How does this relate to Heathers' song I Say No? Simple, this song is the perfect example of how they were able to handle Catra and Adora's "relationship" in the end, Catra is irredeemable and Adora deserved to tell her truths to her face, I will only leave the lyrics somewhat modified for this ideal scenario that I have for Adora Leaving Catra in the dust for everything she's put her through, I don't plan to translate the lyrics into Spanish because otherwise it would sound very strange.

I was inspired by the posts of @spop-romanticizes-abuse and @anti-catradora-collection

(Adora)

"You are a drug

You are a poison pill

I’ve got to kick this habit now

Or else I never will

I hated the rush

When you would hold me close

And you will not be satisfied

Until I overdose

This is it

Hit the brake

I am finally awake

Let me be

Let me go

You need help

I can’t provide

I am not qualified

This troubled teen is getting clean

I say no"

(Catra)

"Adora, who else is gonna be-"

(Adora)

"No, no, no, no!

Don’t say a word

You speak and I cave in

You’ll twist the truth again

And drill deep down beneath my skin

You said you’d change

And I believed in you

But you’re still using me to justify the harm you do

This is it

Hit the brake

Call it all my mistake

Long as you let me go

You need help

I can’t provide

I’m not your friend

You’re not mine

It’s not too late

I’m getting straight

I say no!

Blame your childhood, blame shadow weaber

Blame the life you never had

But hurting people? That’s your choice, nobody to blame

But I believe that love will win

And hate will earn you nothing in the end

This is the end!"

(Catra,pulling out her claws)

"But I love you!"

(Adora)

"You-

This is it!

I won’t cry

Starting now, I will try

To pay back

All the karma you owe!

Start again

Somewhere new

Far from monsters like you

So goodbye

'Cause now I'm

Saying no!

Just in time!

I say no!

Somehow I’m saying no!

Just say no!

I say no!

No!"

[iactuallykissedsharawheeler]

LAZY DAY WITH WANDA

headcannon!

WARNINGS : none!! just soft lovey-dovey stuff!! like one little kiss-makeout that's super quick but not heated so if you're uncomfortable feel free to skip!

NOTE ; hi!! author speaking!! this is my first time posting anything fic-like ever so if you have any criticisms or ideas pls pls share them!!!!!! i'm interested in seeing new ways to do things and improve!! thanks for reading, enjoy!! xx

you wake up to a wanda-less bed, the room cool without her to warm it. you sigh into your sheets and slowly wake up, letting your body ease into it. not rushing. golden light breathing life into the room, soft and hazy through the under-layer of curtains. wanda must have opened them.

eventually, you're awake enough that you register the savoury smell in the air. it fills the house with the warm smell of hand-crushed spices and roasted vegetables. you recognise the scents as one of wanda's favourite breakfast meals: zacusca¹, polenta ², and franzela ³. one of the dishes her mother had taught her when she was young. (pietro said it was overrated but still gobbled it down whenever wanda made it.)

as you make your way to the kitchen, practically cartoon floating towards the smell, you hear wanda softly humming the sweet little love song she'd been into lately, 'ce bine ca esti' ⁴ and smile adoringly to yourself at how cute your girlfriend was.

when you enter the room, wanda is a graceful flow of movement, floating around the space. her hands cutting vegetables adroitly before dropping them ceremoniously into a sizzling pan. she always refused to use her magic in the kitchen, she thought it tainted the beauty of it. right now, you understood just what she meant.

she looks like art with her hair pulled away from her face, frizzy from the heat and her movements confident. her skin warmed by the sunlight that gave everything a golden glow, especially wanda. its enchanting, really. you observe from the entrance, taking note of the sweatpants she stole from you last night during your movie marathon. the one that ended with you both cuddling and eventually asleep by movie three. what? day jobs are draining.

when she turns to grab a mug full of a coffee so pale it's almost ghostly, she spots you. an ardent smile growing on her face that has you wanting to lionize her forever. "good morning, моя любовь*. ce mai faci în această dimineață?" *

you hum a, "fine," padding towards her leisurely and preening at the affectionate greeting, "smells amazing in here."

she hums back and smiles, "thank you. i was gonna wake you but you just looked so peaceful, i couldn't possibly. do you want anything to drink? food's almost ready." you nod your head and move in to hug her. hugs from wanda never felt uncomfortable, they just felt safe and warm. they had an effect like no other. "i missed you." she says, whispering it like a prayer she only wanted you to hear. "missed you more." you reply, letting every muscle and thought relax into her. you can tell she's doing the same.

when you both let go, she reaches out to your face, cupping your cheeks and running her thumbs along the apples of them. the sunlight behind her giving her a halo, you wonder what your past self did to deserve an angel. whatever it was, you'd try to replicate it, so you'd get to spend all your eternities just like this. "ce am facut sa te merit?" * she says dreamily, voicing your own thoughts while taking in every inch of your face. you used to feel exposed and embarrassed by it, but now you just feel enveloped in wanda's love. she may be the scarlet witch but the magic you felt with her was different. it was like being on a different celestial plane everytime she looked at you.

"you're asking me?" she chuckles and leans in, mumbling "shut up," against your lips. you both melt into each other, you lean into her body, hands sliding onto her waist, and by the time she pulls away, you're both practically hugging. she gives a few more short kisses that have you both grinning and giggling like fools. it's such a beautiful moment, you find yourself memorising how this feels. trying to keep it safe and locked away from anything that could ruin it. there's a beat where she stops kissing and just looks at you, her eyes so tender and loving your stomach really does feel butterflies "what?" you whisper. "shh," she says, "i'm observing." that gets a giggle out of you, "observing what, exactly?" still smiling, she says, "perfection, of course."

after another moment of wanda's "observations", she pecks you on the cheek once more, putting her attention back on the meal. she asks you to grab as many pillows and blankets as you can while she finishes up. you pile the blankets until you're satisfied with the fluff, smoothing it down until it's nice and full. then, you toss on the pillows, a little less particular but keeping in mind how much wanda loves to sink into them.

when wanda strides over, steaming plates in hand, you take a deep, reveling breath, "mmm that smells amazing, wanda." she smiles and crosses her legs as lowers herself to the ground. "only the best for you, my love." she says leaning into your shoulder.

after what felt like years of gentle arguing over what you'd watch, you decide on a sitcom wanda had seen an episode of and adored. your legs are tangled together as you lean back on piles of pillows. you laugh at jokes and wanda laughs so hard at one of them that she almost chokes, which only makes you both laugh harder. it's a sweet and filling morning. the two of you just absorbing the loving energy you'd created.

proceeding the meal, wanda dumped any scraps and rinsed them and handed them to you to scrub with a kiss on the cheek. you finished and headed back to the couch where wanda was curled up against the pillows, giggling at a joke one of the characters made. you make your way down to her and get as close to her as you can, she smiles as you adjust yourself. "good?" she says when you finish, "mhm!" you say smiling up at her. she gives a smile back before facing back towards the tv. you see the content set of her face and your heart swells just a bit. lazy days with wanda were always so perfect.

AUTHORS NOTE ; hi! so i tried to be really sensitive to wanda's ethnic background and also to you! the reader! some things were described in detail and others were left to your imagination!! if you have any requests feel free to absolutely fill my asks because i find this kind of stuff really fun! if you see any errors or ways i could improve, again, feel free to tell me!!

much love, r.

p.s ; here are all the little footnotes and translations but feel free to skip. kk bye for real ! x

translations:

моя любовь: "my love"

ce mai faci în această dimineață?: "how are you doing this morning?"

ce am facut sa te merit?: "what did i do to deserve you?"

¹ zacusca: Zacuscă can be eaten as a relish or spread, typically on bread. It is said to improve in taste after some months of maturing but must be used within days of opening. Although traditionally prepared at home, it is also commercially available. Some Bulgarian and Middle Eastern brands are available in the United States. In the Orthodox Christian majority countries, it is sometimes eaten during fasting seasons due to the absence of meat, eggs or dairy products.

² polenta: Polenta (/pəˈlɛntə, poʊˈ-/, Italian: [poˈlɛnta])is a dish of boiled cornmeal that was historically made from other grains. The dish comes from Italy. It may be served as a hot porridge, or it may be allowed to cool and solidify into a loaf that can be baked, fried, or grilled.

³ franzela: long bread (like a baguette!!)

⁴ ce bine ca esti: romanian love song performed by romanian musician nicu alifantis. it's so cute and sweet i 💞 it so much. here's the link in case you want to hear it!! ☆

[aceghosts]

WIP Music Monday

Hey everybody!!! I was tagged by @cloudofbutterflies92, @voidika, and @simplegenius042 to share the music that has been inspiring my wips. Thank you for tagging me!

Tagging (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @captmactavish, @amalkavian, @carlosoliveiraa, @clicheantagonist, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @nightbloodbix, @theelderhazelnut, @direwombat, @captastra, @cassietrn, @strangefable, @katsigian, @inafieldofdaisies, @onehornedbeast and anyone else who wants to do this!

Too Close/Too Late is the one song I have on repeat while working on Rooney's first real conversation with Yorinobu and the fic about their family in their CP2077 universe. It's also one of the songs I've started to closely associate with Rooney, appearing on both their character and ship playlist. To me, this songs represents the dilemma that Rooney faces after their death and subsequent revival. Can you go back to who you used to be? Can you be that same person? Or are you now someone else? And if you keep trying to go back, keep dwelling on the past, are you doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over? (Also sorry, I'm just gonna post the whole song lyrics since they fit.)

I feel alive again Started with the fear of falling Into an hourglass Voices in the void are calling Wrap me in your arms Waterfalls, endless as they drag me down into the dark Of it all, can your heaven help me? Is this the end or is this the beginning? There are stranger things I've learned on the outside Separated by an open door I find it hard to reach the end of my timeline Salivating 'cause I wanted more Is this the end or is this the beginning? Am I allowed again To call out what I need to hear? To be a conduit Conditioned by the fear of fear? Wrap me in your arms (Waterfalls, endless as they drag me) Down into the dark (Of it all, can your heaven help me?) Is this what you want me to be? Perfect and clean Float on a temporary Empire built in a day To throw it away And now I can tell you, there are Stranger things I've learned on the outside Separated by an open door I find it hard to reach the end of my timeline Salivating 'cause I wanted more Is this the end or is this the beginning? I know where I wanna go But it's too close And it's too late this time I know where I wanna go But it's too close And it's too late this time There are stranger things I've learned on the outside Separated by an open door I find it hard to reach the end of my timeline Salivating 'cause I wanted more Is this the end or is this the beginning? Ooh-ooh, is this the end or is this the beginning? Ooh-ooh, is this the end or is this the beginning?

While I've been taking a break from the heavier stuff, I've also been working on some oneshots for Rooney and Yorinobu. This one takes place a few weeks after Rooney and Yorinobu meet each other again, and they've taken the relic case to protect V. Despite the distance between the two, Rooney and Yorinobu still deeply care for each other and this oneshot is a reflection of that.

Your soul is the fuel to my insanity There's no one who can do what you do to me 'Cause you'll be by my side when they turn of the lights And a thousand eyes close and call it a night Our lives burn bright Before your eyes Our lives burn bright Before your eyes When the winds bring me along From the place that I call home I want you to know, wherever I go I'll be forever yours When the lights begin to fade You will always keep me awake I want you to know, wherever I go I'll be forever yours

Again, another song related to a oneshot of a spicier nature. This is more of a vibe-based pick, but I think the following lyrics feel apt:

We feel so good, it's almost frightening Let's try again I don't deserve you, you're a diamond Meet me there where it never closes Meet me there where it's never hopeless All is fair in love, oh-oh-oh-oh Honey, are you coming?

[chaotic-goodsir]

@ashturns30 Happy birthday week! I hope it's okay for me to join in with this challenge, even if I cheated by only making something for one day and posting it a day late 😅

Your fic Remember You Like A Song - which everyone should go read first if they haven't, because it's brilliant - is THE fic that got me invested in MacNaCross in the first place. This was going to be just a short, extremely fluffy pre-portal drabble-thing inspired by it, but I got carried away and it ended up longer than planned. I hope you don't mind me posting something inspired by your fic, but no worries at all if you do for any reason - just let me know and I'll take it down.

Anyway, thank you for hosting this challenge and I hope you have a great birthday week!

***

What Was The One You Always Loved?

The highway outside is a river of speeding taillights in the dark, reflecting red and green and yellow in the rain that runs down the diner's grease-streaked window.

Steam rises from the mug of black coffee in John's hands as he waits for it to cool, soaking in the warmth. The caffeine fix should, in theory, keep him awake long enough to reach the motel PIEP have booked for them without collapsing on the side of the road.

Two pairs of motorbike gloves lie on the table, beside his wallet and an almost-empty pack of cigarettes (he'll have to pick up more at the gas station before they leave). Across the booth, Wilbur frowns at his strawberry milkshake, stirring it with a red-and-white striped plastic straw.

'I swear they used to put more sprinkles on these.' There's a solemn gravity to his tone that few people but Wil could apply to the matter at hand. 'Used to be more colours as well. Half of these are just red. What's that about?'

'Is there a difference?' John asks. 'Surely they all just taste of sugar?'

Wilbur scoops a piece of cream and eats it from the end of the straw, the actual spoon lying ignored on the table.

'Its about the principle, Johnny' he says, stabbing the straw into the air between them like a teacher illustrating a point. 'If they're gonna call them 'rainbow' sprinkles, there oughta at least be an even ratio of colours.'

John smiles, taking a sip of still-too-hot coffee.

'Duly noted, Lieutenant Colonel.'

'Don't give me that cheek, MacNamara,' Wilbur says, grinning. 'You lectured me on the flaws of digital watches for half an hour yesterday.'

'Yes, because I can't in good conscience let you waste your money on such an abomination. Time is-'

'-a precious thread in the fabric of the universe, deserves respect, sure, I get it. And sprinkles are a precious thread in the fabric of a good milkshake.'

'I'm not sure the metaphor works quite so well in this case.'

Predictably, a dollop of cream is flicked his way. He dodges with practiced ease, laughing. It hits the back of the booth, earning them a scowl from a passing waitress that's probably deserved.

The diner is quiet, save a couple of fellow travellers and a few employees unlucky enough to be working late. There's a jukebox in the corner - a classic, vintage one with that archway shape and faded neon lighting - but the scrap of paper taped to the front reads Out Of Service. A cheap plastic radio on the counter provides the alternative, courtesy of some local station's late-night show. The host sounds as though he'd rather be at home in bed. John can't help but sympathise.

A familiar sequence of strummed chords catches his attention. He taps his fingers silently against the coffee mug and listens, remembering last year on the drive back from Shenandoah National Park. (Almost a year ago, now, though it doesn't feel it. Time, for all it's importance, is a wily creature that slips away if you lower your guard.)

*

It was late summer, the tail end of a slow August. The road wound it's way like a silver snake through a sea of green just beginning to turn gold, and Wilbur was leaning against the window on the passenger side, explaining to John why he should learn to ride a motorbike.

He made some good points, but John was only half-listening, distracted by the song playing on the radio. It had seemed to fit the drive, the scenery, the whole weekend, so perfectly that it had buried itself in his brain in a way that music usually doesn't. He's heard it a few times since, always fondly picturing the same memory. And yet he's never managed to catch its name.

*

He tests the temperature of his coffee again, the burn on his tongue bringing him back to the moment.

'You good?' Wilbur asks, reaching a hand across the table. John puts the mug down and takes it, lacing their fingers together.

'Just tired.'

'You look half-dead, darlin'. No offence.'

'Coffee should help. Do you know what song this is?'

Wilbur tilts his head a little, listening.

'This one? Nah, I don't. Why?'

'No particular reason. I just like it.'

That earns him an odd sort of look, followed by a pause and a quiet 'huh' that's half a laugh.

'What's funny?'

'S'just I think that's the first time you've expressed an opinion on music that I didn't ask you for.'

John opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. He knows he's told Wilbur how musical theatre makes him uncomfortable, and why loud music in grocery stores should be banned (it's distracting, there's no need for it, they're awful places already with their fluorescent lighting and endless rows of too many options...) - but those are probably not the kind of opinions Wilbur is talking about.

John's never had a favourite song - it's Wil whose CD collection takes up two shelves of the bookcase in their living room - but if you held a gun to his temple and demanded he choose, he'd probably pick this.

'I think I've heard this before,' Wilbur is saying now. 'It's cute, all that kiss me stuff. Very romantic. Didn't know that was your kinda thing.'

John turns his face to the window, a little embarrassed. It doesn't help his case that the singer is crooning something saccharine about fireflies.

*

The night before the drive home, the lightning bugs had surrounded their campsite, like miniature fallen stars hovering in the dusk. They were part of the reason John had wanted to come out to Shenandoah. After a week spent handling an a gruesome case, he needed the reminder that the world was more than just horror and paperwork. That sometimes it could also be beautiful.

Wilbur stood behind him on the slope of the hill, arms wrapped around John's waist. He was talking, of course. This time about watching fireflies in his parents backyard as a kid.

'They looked like this, mostly. But sometimes you'd get these weird green ones...'

'Green?' John asked.

'Yeah. Bright green, like... neon, or somethin'. They moved differently, too. Made this weird noise, sorta like whispering. Never seen them anywhere else.'

'You're sure they were fireflies?'

'I don't know,' Wilbur leaned forward, resting his chin on John's shoulder. 'Probably just imagined it. I was a weird kid. No one believed me then, either.'

John took a drag on his cigarette, careful to angle the cloud of smoke away from Wilbur's face.

'Whatever you saw, I'm sure it was real. Many things exist in this universe. There's room in the scope of infinity for green fireflies.'

Wilbur had pulled him closer, kissing him on the cheek.

'See, this is why I like ya so much. Don't matter how crazy I sound, you'll still give me a chance.'

John had laughed at that, watching the ordinary, yellow-gold fireflies form constellations around them, a million tiny fires to match the glow of his cigarette. He'd had the sudden, irrational urge to suggest they stay - pack up their tent tomorrow, leave the car behind and keep walking into the wilderness. Become their own unsolved mystery. Abandon PIEP and everything it demanded of them. Hell, even go looking for green fireflies.

He didn't dare mention it. The concept itself was less terrifying than the thought that Wilbur might agree.

'Mmm,' he'd answered instead. 'I wonder what that says about the both of us.'

*

The song fades out, lyrics first and chords trailing after. The DJ's bored monotone takes over. To John's mild irritation, he's managed to miss the name of the song yet again.

'...thank you to Jodie for requesting that one - I hope you and your husband have a wonderful wedding anniversary. So, next up we have...'

Wil stops tracing lazy circles on the back of John's hand and glances towards the radio with an amused smile.

'What?' John asks, raising an eyebrow. 'You're plotting something.'

'Me? Never. Just thinkin' I'm gonna need to find out what that song is called, since you like it so much. For future reference, y'know?'

He winks.

John frowns back, awaiting an explanation.

'For when I get round to marryin' you. Assumin' you'd want me?'

John almost spits out the coffee he's making a third attempt to drink. Several responses run through his head at the same time, none of them especially coherent.

Wilbur just laughs, and finishes the last of the milkshake.

'Don't look so scared, Johnny. When I'm really askin' I promise I'll do a hell of a lot better than that.'

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Her Song part 25

"Momma, I don't wanna go. Please don't make me go," Sydney begs in a whisper as the nurses prepare to take her into surgery.

"I know it's scary and I know you don't want to do this, but I need you to be strong okay? You are the bravest person I know, and when you wake up, I'll be  right there with you holding your hand."

"You promise?"

"I promise. Are you ready?"

"Am I gonna be better after I wake up?"

I hesitate. I can't lie, but I can't tell the truth. "You're gonna feel tired, and you might have a little headache. You'll still be a little sick, but you'll be much closer to getting better. Does that make sense?"

"I guess so."

The nurse unlocks the wheels on the bed and I walk with them as they roll Syd down the hall. When we reach the red line beyond which I cannot stay, we pause to say our temporary goodbyes.

"I love you more than anything, Sydney. I'll see you in a few hours, okay?"

"I love you, Mommy. I'll see you soon." I press a gentle kiss to her forehead and they wheel her away. The tears begin to fall softly, but I don't have the energy or the strength to wipe them away.

I trudge to the waiting room where Florence is waiting for me. I sit down next to her and she pulls me into her side, protectively wrapping an arm around me. "She'll be okay," Flo states quietly. "She has to be."

I say nothing in response.

TWO HOURS IN

Flo leans forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees and staring holes in the carpeted floor. I sit next to her, bouncing my knee up and down and constantly checking the screen in the corner for updates.

But there's nothing. I know there won't be, but I keep checking anyway. They said it would take at least four hours, and I've already grown impatient.

There's a loose thread on the chair I sit in. It's pissing me off.

THREE AND A HALF HOURS IN

I'm growing impossibly anxious now, biting my nails as I pace back and forth in front of Florence's chair. She could be done surgery soon. Or she might not. Hell, she might not even make it off the table.

No, I can't think that. That can't happen.

Florence grabs my arm to stop my pacing. She doesn't say anything. She doesn't need to. Her face says it all.

FIVE HOURS IN

I have to know what's happening. Why is it taking so long? Why isn't she done yet? Did something go wrong? Is she going to make it? Is she going to be the same kid she was before?

Why is it taking so long?

My phone vibrates. I was going to ignore it, but it keeps vibrating. It's the group chat.

Lizzie: Are you alive? I haven't heard from you in forever. How are things with Flo? Scarlett: Yeah, seriously Did you fall off the face of the Earth?

Me: Sorry, everything's been hectic lately. I've been at the hospital. Syd has cancer. Florence has been here with me.

The typing bubbles pop up and disappear several times.

Scarlett: What hospital are you at? Me: Why? Lizzie: Just tell us Me: NY Presbyterian

SIX HOURS IN

The door to the waiting room bursts open and my head instinctively snaps up. Scarlett and Lizzie storm in with their faces flushed, as if they had just run a marathon.

Lizzie mutters an 'I'm so sorry' and Scarlett says that everything will be okay, but nobody says anything else. They sit down next to me and we wait in silence.

SEVEN HOURS IN

I rub my temples to try and calm the ache that's built up over the hours. I hear my name called, and I look up to see Dr. Shepherd standing there looking at me.

I jump up and stand in front of her. "Is she okay?"

Dr. Shepherd breathes deeply. "There were a few complications, which is why it took so much longer than expected..." She gently grabs my hand. "We'll need to watch for any speech impairments but she should be awake in a few hours."

"She's alive?" I breathe.

"She's alive. Come on, I'll take you to her."

I let out a watery laugh but hesitate. I turn around, knowing that we won't all be allowed in post-op. I meet Florence's ready eyes and she mouths 'go.'

I nod my head in a silent thank you.

THREE HOURS LATER

Scarlett, Lizzie, Florence, and I sit around Syd's bed in the hospital room, waiting for her to wake up. I hold Florence's hand tightly, and Lizzie smiles slightly when she sees it.

Syd's face scrunches up and she begins to mumble something incoherent. I lean forward and take hold of her hand.

"M...Maman? Où suis-je? J'ai mal à la tête." Mom? Where am I? My head hurts.

"Tu es à l'hôpital. Pourquoi parles-tu français?" You are at the hospital. Why are you speaking French?

"Je ne parle pas français." I'm not speaking French.

"Florence, can you go get the doctor?" I ask quietly.

"I'm going."

Scarlett and Lizzie exchange worried looks as I rub Syd's hand. She looks so small. Her head is wrapped in white bandages. Her eyes are glossy and tired. She continues to mumble to herself, blinking groggily.

Dr. Shepherd walks in with Florence close behind. "What's going on?" Dr. Shepherd asks.

"I don't know. She woke up and started speaking French. She thinks she's speaking English."

Dr. Shepherd checks Syd's pupils and heartbeat as she speaks. "But she understands you? And she's speaking clearly?"

"Yes. But she's speaking French."

"We're obviously not out of the woods yet," she says, looking at me, "but this is good. Better than I expected. Your daughter is a fighter, Y/N."

"Non, je suis sataniste," Syd mumbles. No, I'm a satanist.

~

I hope you know, As I wait, I suffocate

[raqnarokr]

Why'd you only call me when you're high?

Pairing || Ikaris x Original Female Character (Mia)

Summary || Mia loved Ikaris since the day she first saw him. And he liked her not in the way she did. But when he finally understood that, it was too late.

Word count || 757

Warnings & Contents || +18 content, Minors Do Not Interact, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Cheating, No Happy Ending, Break Up, Angst, Drama

Author's note || This is written in First POV and Dual POV and based on Arctic Monkeys song with the same title.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language, so my apologies for any misunderstandings or mistakes.

→ Marvel Masterlist

“Now it's three in the morning and I'm trying to change your mind”

Mia's pov:

3am. They say there's three types of people awake at this time: the one's who have insomnia, the one's who think this is the supernatural peak time and the heartbroken one's. I'm the last option. And you're helping breaking my heart once again. I have 10 missed calls from him. I send him a message. A clear one. I'm trying to change his mind. Things are not gonna work. Not now. Maybe a few months earlier would work. But after what happen? No way I would go back to him. I prefer being heartbroken than humiliate myself again.

[...] → read more here

★ Thank you for reading and visiting my blog! Feedback is highly appreciated through comments and reblogs 💌

★ Follow @raqnarokr-library to never miss any notification of my posts 🧚🏻‍♀️

[creepypasta-archive]

Jeff the Killer: Recall

by Mikeyboi1225

Some story i found. Sorry i'm not adding my detailed descriptions as usual i've been running on fumes lately CW// Murder i guess. too long to read rn Click here for the unedited original story

Summary

After a nearly fatal car accident in the dark of night, a mysterious boy wakes up in a hospital with no memory of who he was before. His amnesia isn't the strangest about him: his face is scarred beyond recognition, wounds that didn't come from the accident. Taken in by the driver who hit him, the amnesiac settles into a daily routine. But when his memories begin to slowly return, a darkness begins to stir.

This story was inspired by two songs, one which tells the story of a monster who didn't know how to be anything else, and another where the singer looks upon his past misdeeds and seeks redemption for them. If you aren't fond of redemption stories, I recommend looking for an X Reader. There are plenty to be found. My goal in writing this tale is to take the Creepypasta characters I grew up with and tell a new story all my own. If that's the kind of thing you go for, then you've come to the right place.

If you enjoy the story, be sure to give it a kudo, and let me know what you think in the comments!

Chapter 1: The Accident

Walter Jefferson was tired.

He'd had a long, hard day at work. It was December 11th, and the Oakwood County Post Office was a busy place in the weeks leading up to Christmas. He'd gotten off at 10:30, and he was almost home. As he made the turnoff onto the road that led to his house, his cellphone rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw that his wife Margaret was calling.

"Oh, I'm in for it now," he chuckled to himself. Walter answered the call, putting Margaret on speaker.

"Hi, Maggie," he answered cheerfully.

"Hey, Walter," replied Margaret. Unlike his, her voice was wide awake. "It's almost eleven at night. You haven't been abducted by aliens, have you?"

"As a matter of fact, I have, honey," he replied. "They've got big teeth and antennas, and they're pulling out all kinds of terrible devices. I think they're gonna probe me."

"Right," answered Margaret with a chuckle. "Can you tell them that if my husband isn't home in fifteen minutes, I'll have to blast their flying saucer out of the sky?"

Walter laughed with amusement.

"I'll pass on the message, honey. See you in a bit. I love you."

"I love you too, Walter," Margaret replied with a dramatic smooching noise. "Drive safely."

"I will," answered Walter, and hung up the phone.

"Always so worried about- OH MY GOD!"

Walter slammed his foot down on the breaks with all his weight. Someone was crossing the road. The pedestrian had appeared out of nowhere. Walter swerved to avoid him, but it was too late. The vehicle slammed into the figure like a rhinoceros, sending the body rag-dolling over the top of the car. Walter could hear it thumping as it rolled over the roof.

"Dear Lord," choked Walter as he tore off his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car.

He ran to the lifeless body in the road and rolled it face-up. It was a young man, around sixteen years old. He had on a white hoodie and black dress pants. The clothes were bloodied and battered, and blood oozed from the boy's skull.

Walter's stomach churned. He knelt and checked for a pulse. The boy was still alive! Walter ran to his car and grabbed his phone, frantically dialing 911. The voice on the other end responded quickly.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My name is Walter Jefferson, and I am at the intersection of Shaw and West! I just hit a guy with my car. He's alive, but he needs an ambulance!"

"Sir, please remain calm and stay on the line. Help is on the way."

"Thank you," answered Walter gratefully.

The young man's eyes fluttered open. He focused on Walter.

"Wha- what happened?" he asked weakly, his voice scarcely a whisper. "Where am I?"

"Oh, God," croaked Walter. "He's awake."

Walter dropped to his knees, taking the boy by the hand.

"I am so sorry," whispered Walter. "You're going to be alright, I promise. Help is on the way."

The young man's eyes lost focus, and he drifted out of consciousness.

Chapter 2: The Ambulance

"Look at me, buddy," said the paramedic as he gave the boy a shot of morphine. "Keep looking at my eyes, okay?"

The young man's eyes kept fluttering. He opened them and focused on the paramedic.

"Who- who are you?" he pleaded, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"My name is Mark. I'm a paramedic, and we're taking you to a hospital. I gave you some morphine to help with the pain. How are you feeling, buddy?"

The patient' s eyes closed.

"Woah, buddy," called Mark, gently slapping the patient's cheek. "Don't do that to me, alright? Just keep looking at my eyes.

"O-okay," slurred the patient.

"Good," replied Mark, smiling. "What's your name?"

The kid looked puzzled.

"I don't- I don't remember," he answered. His brow was furrowed deeply. Suddenly, his eyes grew wider than they already were.

"I can't remember my name! I can't remember anything! Why can't I remember anything?"

The patient tried to sit up, and then cried out in pain. Mark lowered him back onto the stretcher.

"You don't want to do that, buddy," Mark cautioned. "You've got some broken ribs. Just be still and stay calm. Jeffrey, hand me those sedatives. We need to calm him down."

The boy gasped twice, once from pain and once from realization.

"What is it, buddy?" asked Mark as he prepared the sedative shot. "What's the matter?"

"Jeffrey. . . my name. . . I remember. My name is Jeff."

He tried to sit up again, but Mark stopped him.

"Nice to meet you, Jeff. Can you lie still for me, Jeff?"

Jeff nodded his head obediently as Mark injected him in the shoulder with anesthesia.

"Everything's going to be okay, Jeff," said Mark with a soothing tone. "You just go to sleep."

"Uhhnn. . ." Jeff tried to speak, but before he could form the words, he had drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 3: Room 114

"So, he just ran into the street?" the officer asked as he wrote Walter's account of the event down in a notepad.

"Yes," answered Walter, rubbing his hands together nervously. He sat in the waiting room of the Oakwood County Medical Center, telling his story to a policeman. "I didn't even see him until he was twenty feet away. I tried to brake, but it. . ."

Walter shook his head. The situation seemed surreal. Had he actually just struck a teenage boy with his car? It didn't seem possible.

The officer put a consoling hand on Walter' shoulder.

"You did a good job calling 911. Too many folks would have just panicked."

"Walter!"

Walter looked up to see Margaret running to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. He stood up from his seat and embraced her.

"Is everything okay? Are you hurt? What happened? I was so scared, Walter!"

The officer stood, pocketing his notepad.

"I have everything I need for now, Mr. Jefferson. The department will contact you if we need anything else."

The officer turned to go, giving the couple a moment alone. Margaret buried her face in Walter's shoulder, wetting it with her tears. Walter struggled to find the words. He took a deep breath.

"Right after I hung up," he began, letting the momentum of his thoughts carry him along, "a kid - a teenager, I think - ran out in front of me."

"Oh, God," whispered Margaret.

Walter pressed his forehead against her shoulder, holding himself together despite the attempts of every one of his atoms to break down.

"I hit him, Maggie," he whispered into her ear. "I. . . I hit that kid. I don't even know if he's alive or not."

Margaret tightened her grasp on Walter, running a hand up and down his back to comfort him.

"It was an accident, Walter. He'll be okay. I'm certain of it."

Walter sobbed once into her shoulder, and clenched his teeth to keep himself composed.

"There was so much blood on him, Maggie. I-I've never seen so much. His clothes were soaked."

"Shhhhh," whispered Maggie, cradling the back of Walter' s head in her arms.

Just then, a nurse walked over to the waiting area.

"Walter Jefferson?" she asked, reading off her clipboard.

Walter pulled reluctantly away from Maggie, drying his eyes with his shirt collar.

"Yes, that's me," he replied.

"The boy is out of surgery. The doctor would like to see you. Please, follow me."

The nurse turned and walked into the hallway. Walter started after her, but stopped as he felt Maggie's hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Walter," she said reassuringly.

"Thanks, Maggie," he gratefully replied with one last look at his wife before following the nurse.

The nurse led Walter down a maze of hallways and doors. At length, she stopped in front of a door, Room 114. The metal "4" appeared to be falling off. Walter prayed that wasn't a bad omen.

"Wait here," ordered the nurse.

She walked off in the direction they had come, leaving Walter standing alone before the door of Room 114. He fidgeted nervously as he waited. Walter glanced into the room to see what he could see. He could just barely see the young man - his victim - lying in the hospital bed. His head was wrapped in gauze, but that wasn't what drew Walter' s attention.

Walter started into the room. He tried to stop himself, but he was in a trance. Step by step by step, he drew closer and closer to the sleeping patient. Soon, he was standing at the head of the hospital bed, looking down at the comatose teenager. The boy slept peacefully. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Walter stared down at the boy's face in horror.

My God, thought Walter. Did I do this to him?

The boy's face was horrifying. His eye sockets were scarred with gray patches, and his eyelids were mangled so that they appeared to be open. His cheeks were marred with deep gashes that curled upwards from his lips, twisting his face into a hideous, demonic grin.

At that moment, the boy's eyes focused on him.

"Walter Jefferson!"

Chapter 4: Good News, Bad News

"Walter Jefferson?" asked the doctor a second time.

Walter cradled hid chest in his hands. The boy's eyes darted off in another direction, then another. He was asleep. He hadn't looked at Walter at all.

"Yes," Walter replied, breathing heavily. "I'm Walter Jefferson."

"I'm sorry," the doctor apologized, looking at Walter with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Dr. Walton. I examined the patient as soon as they brought him in. There are a few things that you need to know."

Walter cleared his throat and nodded his head.

"Tell me."

"Fortunately," the doctor began, "there were no vital organs damaged in the accident. Now, he's got four broken ribs, a fractured clavicle, and a concussion, but he'll live."

Walter took a deep breath of hope and glanced over his shoulder at the boy.

"That's good. That's great!"

The doctor nodded.

"It is. Less so is my second piece of news."

"Go on," prodded Walter.

"The concussion seems to have caused some damage. According to the paramedics who brought him in and what little I could get him to say, the patient is amnesiac."

The color drained from Walter's face until he was paler than the boy.

"You mean he. . . oh God. . ."

The doctor nodded again.

"Unfortunately, he seems to have forgotten nearly everything about himself. He has no idea who he is or where he's from. We don't even know if he has any family we need to call," explained Dr. Walton. "The only thing we could get out of him was his name."

"What is it?"

"Jeff."

"Just Jeff?"

"He only remembers his first name."

Walter collapsed into a chair next to the hospital bed and put his head in his hands.

"So I took his face and his memories," Walter sobbed.

Dr. Walton cocked an eyebrow.

"What do you mean 'took his face'?"

"The wounds on his face," said Walter. "You can' t exactly miss them."

Dr. Walton cleared his throat.

"Those wounds aren't fresh. They're scars, and they certainly didn't come from the accident."

Walter looked up.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Those scars are old. He's had them for at least a few years," replied Dr. Walton.

Walter looked back at the face of the sleeping patient.

"Then where did they come from?"

Dr. Walton shrugged dramatically.

"That, along with everything else about him, is something we'd all like to know."

Chapter 5: Waking Up

His mind was blank, totally bereft of the thoughts and details that made up a person. He found himself swimming through a sea of emptiness. The dark, icy waves grasped and tossed, and he fought to keep his head above water.

Up ahead, he saw something floating, like an inner tube. He swam towards it, praying that he wouldn't sink. Three feet from the tube he lunged, but missed. The tube was thrown a little further away by the churning waves. He lunged again. This time, he caught the edge of it.

He clung to the tube for dear life, pressing his face into the side of it. As he did, he noticed a word painted on the side. It was written in rough, scratchy letters that dripped red down the side: Jeff.

His name. The only memory he had left, and the only thing keeping him above the churning sea of despair. He looked down through the hole in the tube's center. He froze.

A hideous face grinned back at him from the water. Its features were twisted into a lopsided, nightmarish smile that went beyond frightening. Its eyes were wider than seemed possible, and edged with dark circles that added a manic hunger to them.

The fiendish face spoke.

"You can't escape me," it said. "I'll find you again. Now, go to sleep- er, I mean, wake up."

Jeff blinked.

"WAKE UP!"

Jeff bolted upright in his hospital bed, breathing heavily and covered in cold sweat. The window was open, letting the sunlight in. His head felt like a blacksmith had been using it for an anvil. He tried to look down at himself, but his head wouldn't move. His neck was in a brace, and his collarbone burned when he tried to move his head.

Must be broken, thought Jeff.

He moved his hand along his chest. There were thick bandages.

Ribs broken as well.

Just then, a nurse came into the room, rolling an IV drip along with her. When she saw Jeff was awake, she smiled warmly and waved.

"Good morning, Jeff," she said with pleasant sweetness. "I'm Nurse Elayna, and I'll be taking care of you."

Jeff found himself looking at Elayna for a long time. She had a headful of curly red hair and deep blue eyes. She was very pretty. Finally, he forced himself to speak.

"Hi, Elayna," he said. "Where am I?"

"You're in the Oakwood County Medical Center. Do you remember what happened?" she asked.

Jeff sighed.

"I don't remember much. My name. I remember bits and pieces of the accident. The headlights. The pain. And the angel."

Nurse Elayna looked puzzled.

"Angel?"

"He was there," assured Jeff. "He was standing behind the driver who hit me when he called 911. He was so tall. He said. . . he said. . ."

Elayna stood by the IV drip expectantly.

"What did the angel say?" she asked encouragingly.

Jeff shrugged, which led to a sigh of pain.

"I don't remember."

Nurse Elayna nodded compassionately.

"That's understandable. You have a concussion. It also seems that, as a result, you have amnesia. You've lost your memory. Well, most if it."

Nurse Elayna exchanged his IV bag and then turned to face him.

"Can I get you anything, Jeff?"

Jeff looked back at Elayna.

"There is one thing," said Jeff quietly. "Could you bring me a mirror?"

Nurse Elayna pursed her lips and looked away.

"The doctor will be in soon," she answered. "He will be able to take care of that for you."

Before Jeff could respond, Nurse Elayna hurried out of the room.

Chapter 6: Breakfast at the Jeffersons'

Margaret was having trouble getting Walter to go back to bed. It was Saturday, the day after the accident, and his Christmas vacation had begun. And he was absolutely miserable.

They had gotten home from the hospital at 3:30 AM, and they had gone straight to bed. Or, at least, Margaret had. Walter had turned on the television and plopped down on the couch. He stared blankly into space, ignoring the TV. At five in the morning, he had finally come to bed. He had slept until seven. He simply couldn't get the boy - Jeff - off his mind.

"He doesn't remember anything," Walter had told her. "He knows nothing about himself. That's on me."

"No, it isn't," Margaret had told him. "You can't blame yourself for an accident. Anyone could have hit that boy. It just happened to be you."

Now, he sat at the kitchen table, staring at the clock. Margaret walked over and sat down next to him.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked.

Walter shook his head.

"How about some coffee?"

Same response.

"Visiting hours start at eleven," said Walter. "I'd like visit him sometime this week."

He fixed her with a pleading look.

"Will you come with me? I want to talk to him. To Jeff."

"Of course I will," she said, taking his hands in her own. "I am just as worried about that boy as you are. I just want you to stop beating yourself up. Skipping breakfast and depriving yourself of sleep aren't going to help him. You know that, right?"

Walter turned his head to look into her eyes. His own, she saw, were filled with tears. He took a deep breath.

"I know, Maggie," he said. "I'm. . . scared, is all."

"I know you are," she told him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "I am too. But it's going to work itself out. I know it is."

Walter wiped his eyes and kissed her back.

"What would I do without you?"

"Fall on your face," she answered. "Now sit tight. I'll make you some scrambled eggs and coffee. You're going to eat, understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Walter as Margaret stood up and walked into the kitchen.

Chapter 7: Reflections

Dr. Walton stood outside Room 114, looking in at his patient. The boy called Jeff was awake, staring straight up the ceiling. Not that he much choice, considering the condition of his eyelids.

Poor kid, mused Dr. Walton. Who are you? And what the hell happened to your face?

Dr. Walton pushed the door open the rest of the way and entered.

"Hello, Jeff. I'm here with your eye drops," announced the doctor. He approached Jeff's head and looked down at him with a wide, friendly grin. "How are you feeling?"

Jeff looked up at him and grinned weakly. It was strange, since the gashes in his cheeks made Jeff appear to be grinning already.

"How would you feel if you got pancaked by a station wagon, Doc? Because that's about how I feel."

Dr. Walton laughed encouragingly.

"Given the circumstances, that makes sense." Dr. Walton held up the bottle of eye drops. "How about we take care of those dry eyes, big guy?"

Jeff widened his eyes for Dr. Walton as the latter squeezed a drop of moisturizing fluid onto each eyeball. Jeff's eyelids squeezed together as best they could.

"Isn't it Elayna's job to give me the eye drops?"

"Well, yes," said the doctor. "But I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd check up on you myself."

Dr. Walton pulled a chair over to the head of the bed and took a seat.

"Jeff, what can you recall from the other night? Do you remember anything from before the accident?"

Jeff sighed.

"No. Nothing. I was. . . I was crossing the road. I remember that. I don't remember why, though. Then, I was on the ground. The driver was calling for help. And, I saw the angel."

Dr. Walton nodded his head.

"Elayna told me about that. This angel, what did he look like?"

"It's pretty fuzzy," admitted Jeff. "He was very tall, at least seven feet. He had these huge billowing wings, and glowing eyes that pierced the darkness."

Jeff paused and frowned at the doctor.

"It was a hallucination, wasn't it?"

"That's possible," answered the doctor. "You did hit your head pretty hard. But I've never been one to rule out the metaphysical."

Dr. Walton gestured to Jeff's bandages.

"After all, you survived a head-on collision at forty miles-per-hour. If that isn't divine intervention, I'll turn in my doctorate."

"Maybe," said Jeff absently. His eyes stung, and he moved his eyes around beneath what remained of his eyelids to wet them. "Hey, Doc?"

"Yes, Jeff?"

"There's something I need you to do for me," Jeff told him, "and I won't take no for an answer.

Dr. Walton cocked his head to the side.

"What would that be?"

"I want you to tell me what's wrong with my face."

Dr. Walton frowned.

"What makes you think something's wrong with your face?"

"Drop the act," said Jeff. "I know something isn't right. Elayna wouldn't give me a mirror earlier. Plus, I've been feeling it all morning. It feels wrong. It feels like leather, not skin."

Jeff pointed to his eyes.

"And judging by the lack of any scabbing, I'm assuming that this isn't road rash across my eyes."

Dr. Dalton folded his hands.

"Jeff," he replied frankly, "Legally, I can't tell you no. However, I can warn you. Your current state is fragile. If you get too worked up, you might hurt yourself."

Jeff frowned. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

"That bad, huh?"

"No, Jeff, that's not. . ." Dr. Walton's voice trailed off. He bit his lip.

"Look, Doc," began Jeff. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "I'm scared. I woke up in a strange place. I don't even know who I am. And I certainly don't remember what I look like."

Jeff sniffed. A tear ran down his cheek. He dabbed at it. His fingers ran down along the ridge of the scar there, until they reached his lips. Jeff returned his gaze to the eyes of Dr. Walton.

"I want to know what this ridge I feel beneath my finger is. I want to see why my eyes don't close. I want something. . . a face to put with my own name. Can you understand that?"

Dr. Walton was speechless. Before him on the hospital bed lay his patient, a boy with nothing. He was so vulnerable, and there was only one thing in the world he wanted. But, Dr. Walton was afraid to give it to him.

Who was he to stand in Jeff's way, though? It was his duty to abide by his patients' wishes. With a reluctant sigh, he relinquished his humanity.

"Alright, Jeff," said Dr. Walton. "If that is what you want."

Dr. Walton stepped into the bathroom for a moment. When he returned, he held a plastic hand-mirror. Jeff watched him approach. It was a slow, dutiful march, like an executioner walking to the scaffold. Jeff didn't know whether to feel nervous or excited. He determined that his beating heart was a result of both.

"Here you go," whispered the doctor as he handed Jeff the mirror.

Jeff accepted the mirror from Dr. Walton and held it up before his face.

Jeff gasped at what he saw looking back at him. He had no eyebrows. His eyelids were a tattered, blackened mess that made his eyes appear wide and hungry. The rest of the flesh was white as milk, and as rough as crocodile leather. His cheeks were marred by three-inch gashes that curled up across his face like the tendrils of an evil kraken hiding beneath the surface. The wretched, ruined face seemed to grin malevolently at him from the glass.

"Oh, God," whispered Jeff. ". . . oh God."

His fingertips traveled the length of a scar, then up the bridge of his nose to his forehead. His fingers splayed across his features, and he lowered the mirror.

"Dear God. . ."

Dr. Walton rested his hand on Jeff's shoulder.

"I'll give you a moment alone."

Jeff barely heard his words. They sounded distant, like he had spoken underwater. This had been what Jeff was afraid he would see. The face he had seen in the mirror was the same face that had stared up at through the inner tube, the one from the sea of darkness. The demonic face from his dream had been his own.

Chapter 8: The Waiting Room

"Walter Jefferson, here to visit Jeff. Room 114."

Walter stood with his hands at his sides. The nurse looked up Jeff in the computer.

"Give me just one moment please," said the nurse as she stood and went into the back.

Walter waited awkwardly, drumming his fingers against the countertop. Soon, the nurse was back.

"He's being cleaned up right now," she told him, "but he should be ready in a few minutes. Just have a seat, and someone will come and take you in."

"Thank you," said Walter.

Walter turned away and walked back to the waiting area. He plopped down in a chair next to Margaret and picked up a magazine, which he perused absently.

What will he be like? Will he hate me? Will he blame me for what happened to him?

Walter didn't know what to expect. All he could do was wait and hope for the best.

Just then, a horrible thought occurred to him.

"Maggie?"

"Yes, Walter?" asked Margaret.

"What's going to happen to Jeff?"

Margaret looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What if he has a family? He doesn't remember anything. He won't be able to contact anyone. He'll be all alone."

"Don't worry," urged Margaret, putting a hand on his shoulder. "His family is probably looking for him right now. They'll come for him."

Walter didn't look satisfied.

"But what if he has no family? What if he was already alone? He's at least sixteen or seventeen. What if they just ship him to a foster home until he's eighteen?"

"Walter," whispered Margaret soothingly, "everything is going to be okay."

Walter took a breath.

"I hope you're right."

Just then, a nurse walked over and stood in front of them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson?" she asked.

"That's us," said Walter, standing to his feet.

"Jeff is ready to see you."

Chapter 9: A Chance Meeting

Mark headed into the break room for lunch. He took his sandwich and root beer from the refrigerator and turned to go. As he did so, he nearly collided with a nurse who was coming behind him.

"Sorry!" squeaked Mark, bending over to pick up the paper bag he had knocked out of her hands.

As he handed her the bag, their eyes met. Hers were a gorgeous, vibrant shade of blue. Her locks of bright red hair were just as distracting.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the bag from him.

Mark couldn't tear his eyes off the girl. She cocked her head to the side and grinned.

"Are you in there?" she asked.

"Yes," said Mark, snapping back to reality and clearing his throat. "Sorry. You have. . . very pretty eyes."

The nurse laughed.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Mark replied. "Hey, wait a moment. Aren't you Elayna Johnson? Jeff's nurse?"

"Yes, I am," she answered. "How did you know?"

Mark's face darkened considerably

"Jeff's the talk of the hospital," answered Mark distastefully. "The amnesiac with the mysterious scars, and all that."

Elayna looked shocked.

"They aren't making fun of him, are they?"

"Not that I know," said Mark. "But I'm no lover of gossip either way. He's just a kid."

Elayna fixed Mark with a curious look.

"You talk as if you know him," she noted.

"I don't, exactly," replied Mark, scratching at his short brown hair. "I was with the team that brought him in, though."

He shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess I feel responsible for him, or something. You should have seen him. Helpless, afraid. You'd probably feel the same way."

Elayna nodded her head.

"I know what you mean. I've been taking care of him all week."

"Oh, yeah?" asked Mark. "How's he doing?"

Elayna frowned.

"Some days are good. Others, not so good. He's very quiet. I don't know if he's thinking, or if he just doesn't have anything to say."

Mark echoed her sad look.

"What does he do all day?"

"He mostly just stares at the ceiling," she said. "Sometimes he'll touch his face. Like he's trying to remember."

She looked at Mark.

"I think he's lonely."

Mark furrowed his brow.

"I might visit him," he said. "I'd like to see if I can't cheer him up."

Elayna smiled from ear to ear.

"I bet he would like that."

Chapter 10: Face to Face

He couldn't get it out of his mind. The image of his face haunted him like a vengeful phantom. His pale and leathery skin, bloodred lips, lidless eyes, and vicious smile stared back at him everywhere he looked.

He was a monster.

No, you're no monster. You're beautiful. Now turn that frown upside-down, dummy!

"Huh?" asked Jeff out loud. He looked around the room for the speaker. No one was there.

Did I imagine that? wondered Jeff. I gotta get out of this hospital bed.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. A nurse poked her inside the room.

"Jeff," she said sweetly, "you have visitors."

Jeff creased his forehead.

"Who?"

The nurse swung the door open and walked inside. Behind her, a man and a woman entered hand-in-hand. The man was in his late thirties with short hair and a clean-shaven face. The woman had long, flowing brown hair and a pleasant, but nervous, smile.

"Jeff," said the nurse, "this is Walter and Margaret Jefferson."

"It's you," said Jeff. "You're the one who hit me."

Walter froze. Margaret squeezed his hand encouragingly. He took a few steps forward. Jeff watched his steady approach unflinchingly.

"Come closer," said Jeff.

Walter knelt by Jeff's bedside, placing his hands on the edge.

"Son," he began, voice cracking, "I. . . I'm sorry. I didn't. . ."

Walter wiped his eyes.

". . . I didn't mean for this to happen. If I could go back, I-"

"Stop."

Walter cut off immediately. He didn't move a muscle. Jeff had spoken so suddenly, Walter's thoughts were scrambled.

Jeff took a deep breath, and grabbed Walter by the wrist.

"Mr. Jefferson," he began, "look at me. What do you see?"

Walter looked at Jeff, unsure of what to say.

"I see a teenage boy," he offered in reply.

Jeff nodded his head.

"And what more than that?"

Walter looked over his shoulder at Margaret. She had one hand over her mouth. Tears were welling up inside her eyes. He looked back to Jeff.

"I don't understand."

Jeff reached up with his free hand and ran a finger along his cheek.

"Yes, you do."

". . . scars," Walter managed.

"Bingo," said Jeff. "Ugly ones. And who knows how I got them? It must have been horrible."

Jeff pulled Walter a little closer.

"Could you live with yourself if you looked the way I do?"

Walter's heart was beating faster. Was Jeff angry with him? Where was he going with this?

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it's entirely possible I wanted you to hit me," answered Jeff. "What if I stepped in front of you on purpose?"

Walter was speechless.

"It was no one's fault, Mr. Jefferson," continued Jeff.

He let go of Walter's wrist and took him by the hand.

"It just happened. No amount of blubbering on either of our parts is going to change that."

Tears ran down Walters face as Jeff spoke. Jeff hadn't just forgiven him. Jeff had told him that he had dine nothing wrong. Walter couldn't find words to describe how grateful he was. All that he could was squeeze Jeff's hand and cry his tears of joy.

Margaret approached the opposite side of Jeff's bed.

"Jeff, when they release you, how would you like to come and stay with Walter and me for a little while?"

Jeff's blinkless eyes widened.

"You. . . you want me to stay with you? Like. . . at your house?"

"Of course!" replied Walter joyfully. He looked up at his wife, and their eyes met. She winked at him. He smiled back.

"But. . . why?" asked Jeff. "I'm. . . nit exactly good company."

"Nonsense!" argued Margaret. "You're a sweet boy, and we would love to have you around. Besides, it's the least we can do until your real family comes for you."

"My real family. . ." repeated Jeff.

He had thought about them a lot over the past week. He didn't know who they were, or if they even existed. But he had wondered who they might be. He wondered if they were looking for him right now.

"What do you say?" asked Walter.

"I. . . I would love to," said Jeff.

Margaret leaned over and kissed Jeff on his gauze-wrapped forehead.

"We'll come to visit you every day until then," she said.

Jeff yawned, a huge yawn that nearly sit his head in two.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm. . . very tired all of a sudden. . ."

The nurse stepped forward.

"I think we should let him rest."

"Of course," said Walter, letting go of Jeff's hand. "Go to sleep, Jeff. We'll be back tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," mumbled Jeff as he began to drift off.

Margaret and Walter turned to follow the nurse out into the hall.

"Mrs. Jefferson?"

Margaret turned to look back into the room.

"Yes, Jeff?"

"Didn't the nurse say your name was Margaret?"

"Yes," she said. "Margaret Katherine Jefferson. Why do you ask?"

A headache nagged behind Jeff's eye, and he put his hand to his temple reflexively.

"I. . . I think I knew someone named Margaret. Someone close to me."

Chapter 11: Interesting Developments

"Erika Langford, twenty-two years old. Cut up in the middle of the night."

Agent Vince Brewer stood over the body of the victim, hands tucked away in the pockets of his suit coat. He regarded the crime scene with a somber expression. He had seen hundreds like it before, but it never got any easier. Still, not everyone had what it took to do his job.

He gestured to the sheets, which had been ripped from the bed, and an overturned lamp.

"There was a struggle," he noted. "She was awake when it happened."

"We guessed that, too," replied the officer in charge of the crime scene. "The killer came in, probably startled her awake, struggled with her, then shoved a knife in her gut. Slashed her face a little bit for good measure, too."

"It sounds to me like you guys have this under control," replied Agent Brewer with some annoyance. "Why contact the Bureau?"

"There's the kicker," replied the officer. "Right this way."

The officer led Agent Brewer across the room, careful to avoid disturbing the crime scene. Agent Brewer was just as careful. The officer stopped, gesturing to the window.

"This is how our killer got in."

The window was open, and the curtains were drawn. Bloody handprints lined the fabric. A few were plastered across the windowsill, revealing that the window had served as an exit as well as an entrance.

Agent Brewer's eyes were wide with surprise. He clenched his jaw and turned and stormed out of the room, taking long and deliberate strides. The officer hurried to keep up with him.

"There's more!" he called.

Agent Brewer ignored him and continued. He marched out through the front door, down the porch steps, and around the house. He didn't stop until he could see the window from the outside. The moment it came into view, something else did. It was difficult to see in the dying sunlight, but it was there.

Agent Brewer had taken down many a serial killer in his career with the FBI. One thing he had learned was that, to some of them, it was a game. They loved to play the game, and they loved to be recognized for playing. They lived for the coverage their dark craft received, for the names the media gave them. So, to facilitate this, some killers left behind a calling card. Agent Brewer had seen this particular calling card many times over the past three years.

The officer ran up alongside Agent Brewer and stopped to catch his breath. 

"Now you know why we got ahold of the Bureau."

Agent Brewer clenched his fists as he approached the side of the house. The walls were painted white. There was no missing the message scrawled beneath the window. It was written in bright red letters. The medium had dripped, leaving long run lines beneath each letter.

"What is that written in?" asked Agent Brewer, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

"What do you think?" retorted the officer.

The message was simple. There were three words and nine letters in all, and each letter was capitalized. 

GO TO SLEEP.

Agent Brewer closed his eyes. He felt like someone had punched him right between the eyes. 

"That's it, ain't it?" asked the officer. "That's the Grin's handiwork, right?"

Agent Brewer opened his mouth to respond when something moved out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look. It had been a momentary flicker of movement.

"Did you see that?" asked Agent Brewer.

"See what?" asked the officer. "All I see is some bloody graffiti and an open window."

Agent Brewer looked down at his feet. He noticed that his shadow had lengthened considerably as the sunk sank. His hat had almost reached the top of the house.

Agent Brewer wasn't wearing a hat.

"I need a moment alone," said Agent Brewer, turning to face the officer."

The officer furrowed his brow, but nodded. He didn't feel like arguing with a Fed today.

"Suit yourself, agent," muttered the officer as he turned to go. "See you back inside when you're ready."

"Thank you," said Agent Brewer, who returned his attention to his shadow once the officer was out of sight.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

His shadow seemed to lean forward from the wall. It shrank, contorted, and lost all shape, like a two-dimensional cloud of smoke on the wall. Soon, it was no taller than the agent, and it began to take human form once more: flowing trench coat, wide-brimmed fedora, and a walking cane held in the right hand. Two miniscule spheres of red light gazed out at Agent Brewer from where the figure's eyes should have been. It was a living shadow, standing there against the wall before him.

The shadow man replied with a deep, gravelly voice that seemed to echo from every surface, even the ones in Agent Brewer's mind.

"I came to check up on you," replied the shadow. "You are busy?"

"Am now," answered Brewer, waving his hand at the bloody message.

The shadow studied the message for a moment.

"Hmmm," it mused thoughtfully. "The Grin. A dangerous killer. Certainly not someone you want running around free."

"Don't give me that," scoffed Agent Brewer. "You probably know who he is already. You've just been holding out on me for three years."

"Perhaps, and perhaps not," whispered the shadow. "I keep many secrets."

"So why are you here?" asked Agent Brewer, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I come bearing a gift."

The shadow stepped forward, away from the wall, now taking up three dimensions. The shadow man held something out towards Brewer. It was something sealed in plastic. Brewer stepped forward to get a better look.

It was a blood-spattered kitchen knife.

"The murder weapon," explained the shadow, "used to kill Erika Langford."

Agent Brewer reached out, accepting the sealed knife from the shadow man. He held it up to the dying light, studying the blade. It was covered in scraped marks, beaten, battered, and bloodied.

"Where the hell did you find this?" he asked.

"One gift at a time," replied the shadow, holding up an ebony finger and wagging it back and forth. "It should suffice to say that something has happened on my side. There's been an interesting development. I'm curious to see how it will play out."

The shadow man turned his back to Agent Brewer. He began to melt back into the agent's shadow, silently and swiftly.

"What about the Grin?" called Agent Brewer.

The figure was gone, but one final reply came whispering from within the shadows.

"Look for him."

Chapter 12: Merry Christmas, Happy New Life

Notes:

Salutations, my lovely readers! This chapter is long overdue, but now that I have finished my education I think can get on a regular schedule.

You can expect updates on Jeff the Killer: Recall every Friday evening, the good Lord willing. As for my other works, I will be updating them as time allows. I have many original projects in the works, as well as a potentially big opportunity on the way.

Eyes up. The Mysterious Realm is unforgiving!

Margaret.

He tossed and turned in the bed, eyes darting back and forth beneath his mangled eyelids. His pale, slender fingers grasped at sweat-soaked sheets. His feet kicked at some unseen foe, something watching him from the darkness.

Jeff's dreams were getting worse.

Margaret.

In a realm beyond this one, Jeff sat on a cold floor, knees drawn against his chest. His lips trembled as he whispered the word over and over.

Margaret. Who was she?

He ran his fingers through his wild hair. They came back wet with sweat. Jeff clenched his fists, searching desperately for memories that weren't there. 

Who was Margaret?

"Who cares?"

Jeff jumped to his feet. The new voice was familiar, unpleasant, and it startled him.

"H-hello?"

"Hello."

Jeff spun around, throwing up his hands to protect himself. The voice had come from behind.

"Wh-who's there?" Jeff demanded.

From the darkness, a shape began to manifest. It was horrible, a beastly silhouette. Its crimson eyes glared hungrily at Jeff from the shadows.

"We are. No one else."

Jeff trembled. The creature's eyes demanded his attention; he couldn't look away, though he tried.

"Who are you?" Jeff croaked.

The silhouette seemed to slither through the darkness, eyes never blinking, never straying. It inched forward, little by little, until those horrible eyes were just in front of Jeff's.

"How could you forget me?" the shape asked. There was almost genuine hurt in its voice, as though it was sad that Jeff didn't recognize it.

Suddenly, Jeff found himself seized in an icy, crushing grasp. Frigid tendrils of shadow wrapped around his body, pinning his arms helplessly to his sides. He struggled, but it was moot. Wicked glee glinted in the crimson eyes of the beast as the shadows of its face began to swirl and pull aside. Within, a new face peered back. Jeff gasped.

"Beautiful, aren't I?" it asked.

Jeff squeezed his eyes shut. His mangled eyelids did nothing to conceal the horror that now held him in its clutches. He screamed, a scream that went beyond the dream.

Then, he was sitting upright in bed, chilled sweat dribbling down his sides and neck. His hands trembled at his sides. He raised them before his face, flexing his fingers to make the shaking stop.

He had been having the same dream for a while now. His mind went back to Christmas Day. The Jeffersons had been there. Mark and Elayna had been there, too. Even Dr. Walton had stopped by. All of them had gotten him gifts.

"Oh, geez. . ." Jeff had muttered, sinking lower onto the hospital bed. "I wish you hadn't."

"Nonsense," Margaret had said with a wave of her hand. "Now get to opening."

Walter and Margaret had gotten Jeff a long, insulated leather jacket that went down well past the knees.

"To keep you warm when you finally go outside," said Margaret.

"And look here," said Walter, pointing to the chest. "It comes with a reflector. Now you can cross the street at night."

Jeff was silent for a moment. 

"I love it," he said at last, running his hands over the leather. He enjoyed the way it felt. "Thank you both."

"My turn," said Elayna, presenting Jeff with a box wrapped in snowmen and reindeer. Inside was a portable CD-player, complete with headphones and a few CDs ready to go.

"I know how much you like music," she told him. "Now you can listen as often as you want."

Jeff looked through the CDs. They were all groups Elayna had introduced him to, that he loved to listen to: Linkin Park, Skillet, and more.

"Thank you so much," said Jeff, hugging Elayna around the neck.

"Anything for my little work brother," she replied with a giggle, hugging him back.

"You've still got one more," said Mark. He plopped a very small box down on the bed in Jeff's lap. The box was about the size of a TV remote. It was wrapped in simple red paper, with a little green bow holding it shut.

"What is it?" asked Jeff, turning it over in his hands.

"Only one way to find out," replied Mark, smirking and crossing his arms.

Carefully, Jeff slipped a finger under the edges of the tape, pulling it away little by little.

"Oh come on, we're not saving the paper," protested Mark. "Open it up!"

Jeff caved and ripped the paper away with a flick of his wrist. His mouth fell open. His voicebox cracked in two. Words tried to form on the tip of his tongue, but something powerful kept them at bay.

The present was a little box, bound in a faux leather material and hinged in the back. With trembling fingers, Jeff opened the box. Inside, his expectations were fulfilled tenfold. There rested a pair of sunglasses, with firm black plastic temples and thick dark lenses.

"I. . . I. . ."

"Look, I'm not saying you need them," stammered Mark, "just that, you know, with the sun, and with your eyes, and with the drops-"

Jeff's arms were around Mark before he could stammer out another syllable, his face buried deep in his friend's shirt.

". . . thank you," was all Jeff could croak through the raging torrent of feelings that swept over him. Mark put an arm around Jeff's shoulder in turn.

"You're welcome, little buddy."

Jeff pulled away from his friend's embrace, turning his eyes upon the room. Within the four light blue walls of the hospital room were the only five people in the world Jeff knew. They cared for him, and he for them. Warmth. Peace. Gratitude. Companionship Belonging. They all seemed to surge within him simultaneously.

No!

Jeff jolted, arcing his back and grabbing at his temple. 

"Wh-what?" he mumbled aloud.

"You okay, buddy?" asked Mark, reaching out. Jeff's vision swirled. He saw Mark's face, Mark's stupid face, giving him that coddling look. Why, he ought to reach out and grab Mark by his skinny little neck. . .

A wave of shame and horror shot through Jeff like an electrified bullet. Those thoughts were evil, twisted and monstrous. They couldn't have been his. At least, he didn't want them to be his. 

"I. . ." Jeff struggled. He could feel his eyes shaking in his sockets. Darkness was coming.

"Easy there," said Dr. Walton, hurrying over. "He's just exhausted. Give him some space, Mark."

Jeff had felt cold hands as they took him by the wrist, and colder hands as they took him by the mind.

That had been Christmas. For the first time he could remember, Jeff had known joy. Something had taken that joy from him.

Jeff seized the pocket mirror from his nightstand, staring intently into the crystal glass. His twisted reflection looked back at him. He bit his lip timidly. He hoped, he prayed, that a dream was all it had been.

[zeawesomebirdie]

Heyyy there, ask back ^^

🎵Do you make playlists for your fics?

🌠What are your top three most commonly used tags on AO3?

🙌What's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of?

[for this ask game here]

Hey hey, thanks so much for the ask!!

🎵Do you make playlists for your fics? I do!! All of my longfics have associated playlists, and actually I had a song lyric title era and some of the wips I have yet to post still have those song lyric titles lol. I actually need to make an updated playlist masterpost, but all of the ones I've made can be found on my spotify profile ^.^ Here's a few of my most recent ones!

Time Don't Matter To Me - ~1 hour, country; for a Bruce Wayne/Barry Allen Old West!AU in which Bruce is a vigilante gunman and Barry is the US Marshal out of Dodge City Bruise Your Lover (So He Remembers Once You're Gone) - ~1 hour, pop punk; for a Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson fic I'm working on for @ful-crum in which Dick and Bruce fuck in the Cave and then Bruce ghosts Dick for two months please stay until i'm gone - ~1 hour, 2000's pop punk; for a Dick Grayson/Jason Todd fic in which they take turns playing on Jason's gameboy maybe everything that dies someday comes back - ~1 hour, 70's folk rock; for a Edward Nygma/Dick Grayson fic in which it is six times Riddler saves Robin and one time Dick saves Eddie

🌠What are your top three most commonly used tags on AO3? Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda); Alternate Universe - College/University; and Established Relationship. And tbch, only two of those three is even currently accurate because I take five million years to actually post things!

🙌What's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of? I actually already answered this one over here, but I'm gonna answer it again because I have been SO proud of my writing lately 😌 Once again I'll give two paragraphs, one from a posted fic and one from a wip!

From but when i'm alone on the longest nights, i think of you and your fairy lights [Beedle/Link, rated T, chose not to warn]

The snow only barely slowed his racing steps to the monster, and Link made it to its side before it had time to reposition its blade.  He ducked under its stomach, dodging its hooves while striking upward with his broadsword and opening a rain of blood and innards.  The lynel turned almost clumsily now, its back legs not quite raising high enough to clear the snow while it tried to face him directly.  It swung for his head, and he ducked, swiping at its unprotected front legs and feeling the crunch of bone shattering against his blade.

And from the latest insomniac!coldflash one shot (yet another part of Stories I Tell Myself When I Can't Sleep) in which Len wakes up in the middle of the night to Barry inexplicably in his bed and does not recognize him at first because he doesn't wake up fast enough

He really needed to wake up faster, damnit. He needed to be able to make a plan, any plan to get himself away from the man, even if all he could do was hit the emergency alert on his phone to get the Flash here. What was it Barry said he was doing tonight? Something to do with Iris’s wedding, but Len couldn’t remember just what it was right now. What time was it now, would Barry even be awake? Fuck, and when had Captain Cold ever needed to rely on the Flash like this before? He only started keeping his cold gun in the living room rather than the bedroom just last week, for christ’s sake! Cisco was going to have a field day, especially if Lisa was the one to—

[nightowl33art]

Gonna try to use Tumblr a little bit more than I have been. Will start posting art and shit here. Might update my intro post or something. I also intend to use this page as a slightly more personal place than my Twitter. So I might post things like thought trains, random notes, personal messages, and my less mainstream creations, like poetry. Consider this a start. If there's major backlash or regret for this decision, I'll overturn it, but if not, buckle in for my random shit.

(CW for grooming mention below.)

----

If you didn't know, I was groomed a few years ago. My groomer and I spoke from mid 2020 to early 2023, so I knew him for over two years. He was my best friend. Over the span of 2022 he went from a brother, to a lover after I turned 18, to my ex at the end of the year. I didn't realize it was grooming until late last year, and it still affects me to this day.

Clearing tabs, I came across a music video I bonded with him over. It hurts to remember things sometimes. Listening to the song brings joy, but I feel pain remembering the context I've mainly come to associate with it. After all, I haven't really touched that song since him,, til now.

The entire friend group we had at the time was nd. so we took stims and stuff off each other. Created a lot of inside jokes. When we cut off anyone deemed bad for us, he hoped they'd feel upset remembering these jokes and stims. For us, we'd still be able to laugh and not let these things weigh the jokes down.. Now that I'm on the other side, I've recontextualized some things so they don't bother me. But I can't help but remember sometimes. Those are the painful moments. They can bring tears.

I hate how the memory of my groomer sours some things. I wish it didn't feel so unpleasant to recall certain interactions with him. I used to console him all the time, the insecure wreck. Tell him I didn't hate him- that I could never. Fuck man, I defended him, saying he couldn't be a creep! I thought I got myself into that mess! But I'm a grown up now. I'm the age he was when he met me. My eyes have been opened. I hate him now. I despise what he has done. Although I am not permanently ruined, I am burned. Sometimes the scars are still tender.

Ik he occasionally stalks around the socials of those he's kicked away or those he doesn't like. He hate watches and laughs, calling them pathetic and what have you. I'm not exempt from the list. (In the past he and my ex, his partner, stalked my carrd to find the Twitter account I'd freshly made. I know bc his partner came in complaining about something I'd commissioned and rt'd.) I don't doubt they still check in on me every once in a while.

I used to be there with him. We'd ask "where are they now? What stupid things are they up to?" and go look. We'd treat the subjects like personal clowns and take joy in their pain. For someone so worried and traumatized over being a lolcow, he sure enjoyed making others his. (This is not to invalidate his trauma, but it does not justify him.)

Tumblr. I always viewed this place as his turf. I used to enjoy what he posted here. It was in my bookmarks. Now he's blocked. But I don't assume it'll stop him if he wanted to view my page on, say, incognito. Not much I can do to run or keep his eyes away so i have to be okay with that. BECAUSE of that, I don't mind posting about this- about him- on my Tumblr. So, to my groomer, if you're reading this.

Fuck you. YES I hate you and you're gonna have to live with that forever. I assume you don't care anymore what I think, but I retract everything I said when i knew you. I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. Whether or not you intended to hurt me in the way you have, you did, you selfish bitch. I looked to you for safety but you metaphorically dug your nails into my veins while I slept. I only am awake now to see the wounds. I thought you were the coolest motherfucker alive, I idolized you, I fell in love with you, and now I can only look at you in disgust. I'm aware you're likely not out there grooming others. You only have your partner, who you also groomed, younger than me, by your side, happily taken, living with you and your parents. I'd say it's not okay but it has to be because I can't do anything about it. It was your and his choice to end up where you are currently. And frankly I don't care about either of you. I'm sure you're happy together, living your best lives. Just know you're not having a better life than I. I've been out here, LIVING and thriving. You aren't superior to me (though I'm sure you enjoy imagining you are, sitting in your fortress while reading this in a silly voice.) I've got new opportunities, better friends, a healthier everything, and I'm content with my current love life. Rest assured, I have grown from the person I was when we dated. I wasn't in the best place and I regret my nasty moments. I feel bad for what I've done, but I also have to be thankful. If I wasn't in a bad place, if I wasn't just a scared and lost kid, I wouldn't have escaped.

You grew sick of me and kicked me out of everything we had. You were so petty as to give personal info to mutuals in a gc (like COUGH my irl name, seriously?) So petty to delete thousands of messages you sent me. So petty to cry about me being "abusive." You weaponized and demonized my mental illnesses, diagnosed and unknown, to make me look worse. Like actually fuck you for making my alter Carl seem like a dangerous person. Fuck you for saying I physically attacked people when no tf I did not. I, and most of my system, would not begin to dream of striking a person like that. (The ones that do are using fantasy to cope, I should clarify. We are not a violent person.) And certainly not an animal jfc. "So glad you're away from him," they responded. They thought ill of me because of you. You're probably satisfied with that because you believe it all yourself. I know you think everything you did was right, but stuff like borderline blackmailing me is not the way to go fyi. Controlled the narrative to take away what I had. They trust you, they'll instantly take your side, esp because there's two of you, when in reality what you said about me was mostly misunderstanding or spiraling assumptions because you overthink way too much. No reality checks to keep you in place. I can still break it all down point-to-point.

If I think back, it hurts that you assumed I never loved you. That I dated you out of pity. What the fuck man. I loved you to my last breath,, before you killed me.

But if I was not mentally unwell back then, I would likely still be with you. And that's a terribly unpleasant thought. I'd still be terribly dependent on you to regulate my emotions, and you'd be just as dependent on me. Egads. Yikes. Ew.

I'm glad you broke up with me. Thank you. The heartbreak was painful but worth experiencing, considering the alternative. I know you're not part of my life now and I couldn't be more thankful, but if you're still checking on me, there's no point to doing so. I'm not out to hurt you so checking for signs of danger are nullified. I don't think what I do now makes you laugh either. I'd prefer it if you leave me alone now. Lord knows I want you far away from me. I'm glad I never got to meet you in person.

At least you're just distant memories now.

[dippinbloo]

A Million Dreams are keeping me awake. (Bit of an immersion break)

So Hi,

I haven't done some of these long posts in a while, and I thought of expressing myself a bit and start making sense of what happened a few weeks ago.

While I'm at work I had "A Million Dreams" playing in one of the songs that I happened to bump into during work. I took a pause and decided to listen to the song. I bit of tear shedding took place cause I felt like I lost sight of some of dreams after many years of trying to pursue some of them. I genuinely felt tired of people who would constantly make me realize that some of the stuff I'm doing now is not realistic. It was sickening.

"I think of what the world could be, a vision of the one I see"

There was a dream of standing on front of the stage. There was a dream of living outside of the country I'm currently living in. There were so many of them and quite honestly I felt like I could have made it. But so much has taken place that really rendered some of these dreams dead. World problems, economy, severed ties, it really feels like nothing really in this world goes according to plan especially if you live in a third world country like I do. I feel like I was constantly punished for believing in myself too much. And hey I'll admit I would go over my head sometimes, but I just wouldn't want to find myself in a position to be just absolutely demotivated to survive just to live. I built myself up to where I am not working my ass off during these late nights while living a small dream of mine as a Vtuber. Just the right amount of sanity there.

"A million dreams for the world we're gonna make"

The past few weeks have been an outright struggle for me in the background, but I had to power through. I had to work. I wanted to stream just to have a few laughs and just get a kick out of life cause I wanted to live for the moment. Vtubing and just having a good time with friends either in streams or IRL has been my source of happiness as of late. Something happened that really shook me out of my mental and my emotional and I swear it was only streaming that really kept me... alive. Being around Vtubers, streamers has kept me very much purposeful.

"Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head"

Sucks that we had to let go. But, I couldn't just see it anymore. The thoughts of having to give up dreams spiraled down into my head. The possibility behind it was really scaring me. It was the same problem in a loop and I felt tied down and not knowing exactly what to do.

"A Million Dreams are keeping me awake"

It's hard to let go of things that you dreamt of. It's hard to let go period. But I couldn't let go of a dream that mattered to since I was a child and it's to entertain, to build communities of people who laughed, shared art, play music. I found a family in Vtubers. I found a family in streamers. I love meeting them in person. I wanna see all of them honestly. Cause, ya'll really saved me. Thank you for making me realize that I didn't really need a stage that looked like something from Coachella (would still be nice, but I won't deem it as necessary anymore). I may had to let go and sever ties, but I know I'll make it. I gotta make the vision of the world I see.