#only bc my sister moved the paper when i was drawing the eye so i just embraced the error

[skittle-is-little]

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

[heyitsyn]

RANDOM SEIJOH HCs ACCORDING TO GIGI

a/n: this is a thing i cooked up between doing trig exam and ap gov review akdsjfldskfj

IM PRETTY SURE I ALREADY USED THIS GIF BUT IM WANTING TO RE-DO MY ENTIRE PAGE AND MAKING BANNERS SO THIS IS A TEMPORARY THING AJDJDJJD ALSO I DONT KNOW HOW TO DO THE KEEP READING THING ON THE APP BYE

oikawa def listens to indie music just bc he wants to feel unique and the 'iM diFfErENt fRoM oTHeR gUrLs' vibes

i FIRMLY BELIEVE IWAIZUMI HAJIME IS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO CHOMPS ON HIS ICE CREAM BC HE LIKES TO FEEL THE COLD ON HIS TEETH AKSJSKSKSK

meanwhile kunimi eats a kitkat like its pizza just CHOMP

makki caNNOT sleep without a pillow between his thighs LIKE LISTEN he has 2 sisters and they all told him its so comfortable and at first he was like,, ??,, then he tried and now cant sleep without it

bUT MATTSUN LIKES TO SLEEP WITH PILLOWS SURROUNDING HIM bc it makes him feel safe and like there are two body pillows on either side of him and hes kinda trapped in the middle aksjskdk

when kyo was younger, he was really short and although he had other pants, he loved this one pair but they were really long on him and he wore it all the time and the part of the pants that touched the ground is torn in shreds

kindaichi steps on the sofa before sitting LIKE puts one foot on the cushion then the other until hes literally standing on the couch before folding to sit with his knees up to his chest (i do this)

watari sniffs his food before eating it no matter if its something he eats all the time or something new, he still sniffs it either way

yahaba is really particular with his feet and he likes to get a really big tupperware (duh one only meant for his feet) and fill it up with warm almost boiling water and he just soaks them

oikawa has sleep paralysis and he oftens hallucinates about aliens in the corner of his room

kunimi does this thing where he makes weird noises with his mouth like sounds of his mouth opening LIKE when youre tastinf something new and you do that sound with your tongue (I DUNNO HOW TO DESCRIBE IT AJDKSKKD)

makki bends his knees just to crack his ankles

iwa sneezes a ton but he has those sneezes where theyre quiet that you dont even notice or really loudly that it just echoes throughout the gym

kyo sleeps with one sock on bc his feet gets cold easily but both socks make him feel really hot so only one sock is perfect

for a tall and hunk of a guy, mattsun is a very light walker like his footsteps are very light and if he wants to, it can be practically silent

watari actually hates vegetables ajssksksk he particularly hates zucchini, eggplants, any vegetables that are that shape

kindaichi likes to stick or lean against walls because to him, they feel cold and can decrease his body heat

oikawa stands and places his feet at V position like \/ instead of ll because his sister did ballet and he was taught that was the right way of standing and it was considered graceful

yahaba has a fear of cactuses

mattsun does so badly in the heat because his body temp runs so high and the hot surroundings make him feel so uncomfortable and so he takes a lot of cold showers

iwa cannot swim like he freaks out immediately when his toetips can no longer feel the bottom and he panics with thoughts of drowning

watari has really small feet that he still buys big kids shoes to save money

kyotani considered playing baseball because he thought baseball bats were cool but he got angry and threw tantrum after missing his first pitch

iwa chomps on a whole raw chili while eating ramen akskksks

oikawa actually hates sweets bc when he was younger, he had cavities and iwa showed him a cartoon of cavities eating his teeth and will make him toothless

kindaichi really really likes hugs but hes too awkward to ask them even from his parents

yahaba chomps on mints so he goes through boxes of them in a week

i feel like theres a boy in the team who doesnt brush their teeth everyday and rubs a towel on their teeth to make it look clean and take mints to hide their bad breath

iwaizumi is actually iron deficient so he bruises super super fast and he even developed iron defiency anemia when he was younger bc his parents didnt catch on which caused him to be put on strong medication for months and still takes it now

WAIT,, OIKAWA IS LACTOSE INTOLERANT BUT HE LIKES MILK SO HE EATS MILK BREAD TO MAKE HIM FEEL NOT SO BAD OR GUILTY OF CONSUMING STRAIGHT DAIRY

seijoh four bonding time is watching gordom ramsey shows and yelling and screaming 'YEA! EXACTLY!' as if theyre also cooking genuises

watari used to eat grapes all the time until his mom got worried and told him if he doesnt stop, he will eventually turn into one. he only eats it every few weeks

when he was younger, kunimi cried because he had befriended a chicken on a trip to a farm and his mom took him to eat fried chicken after and he thought it was Chicky (his chicken friend :"))

kyotani used to stick out his tongue when it was raining so he could taste the raindrops. they taste better than bottled water

one time, during a seijoh sleepover, they dared oikawa to wear his sisters old uniform, skirt and all, and it backfired so everyone turned red and couldnt look at him in the face

their pregame ritual is touching each other's shoe tips

they tried doing yoga at yahaba's house before by watching yoga youtube videos but everyone ended up having to go to the chiropractor after (how did makki even turn into the human pretzel?)

the local gym gets so scared when they see the team coming through the doors bc these men are so LOUD like they HYPE EACH OTHER UP SO MUCH THEYRE SO ANNOYING AKSKSKDK

also never take them to an all you can eat sushi place. if you do, bring them earlier of the day like 30 mins after opening time so the cooks can cook enough for them without running out of ingredients (even then sometimes they still run out)

oikawa used to eat his mom's roses from her garden because he thought it would make his farts smell good like roses

takahiro is a surprisingly good artist like he draws really cool action fighting scenes in the corner of his papers and stuff

in my work: it's canon that iwa is half filo and his nanay used to dress him up in a barong all the time during halloween bc she wanted him to showcase his heritage

yahaba drinks a lot of milk because he hopes to one day grow strong and bulky like the 3rd years instead of being seen as a pretty boy

kindaichi's mom is a hairstylist and she always scolds him for using a lot of gel bc she's always the one who washes his hair

makki never learned how to do taxes and hes had the government knocking on his door a handful of times (BOKUTO AKKDJSKKS)

kyo has a dog: a chiweenie

there's someone on the team who wears those socks with individual pockets for toes

their pinterest is so different from what they look like for example, mattsun has a board of different flower decorations and arrangements

kunimi throws up during intense horror movies

watari's celeb crush is emma watson

the team alternates from different music genres like from ateez and bts to mxmtoon and beach bunny

they still dont know how to pronounce camila cabello's name

theyre all active in social media but only oikawa is on it 24/7 and in all platforms while the others have insta and snap

mattsun has twins as little siblings and he used to get them mixed up all the time that he used to draw a sharpie dot on the girl's forehead to determine she was his sister

watari hates sitting on the floor bc his butt bone hurts really easily so he can only sit on cushions for long periods of time

the team was supposed to have a party but everyone didnt know what to bring so they proved they shared the same braincell by bringing the same thing: a box of pizza

makki's an old soul and prefers to play records on a record player or watch old movies

kyo is surprisingly good at giving massages because he really pushed hard on those tense muscles

kindaichi knows how to crack necks so everyone goes to him a lot to do it (a friend of mine does this and can i say its terrifying yet so good?)

the only one who has a license is matsukawa and thats because granny needs to go to the doctor a lot and he hates her walking by herself and cabs are expensive

kyotani and yahaba are actually,,, lowkey close,,, not like best friends but theyre nice to each other and they got a stick and poke together (yahaba's was: :) while kyo's was: >:))

watari has a collection of mangas (some bl maybe 👀)

WARNING SAD: mattsun’s future job is a funeral person right? he ends up taking care of granny’s funeral free of charge and he had to take a week off because it was really painful for him

oikawa learned spanish SUPER fast to the point he forgets japanese sometimes but there are moments where he forgets both languages and hes just,,,, ???

makki’s unemployed yea but he rooms with mattsun in exchange of cooking because makki’s surprisingly good at cooking

iwa is practically the nutritionist of the team because he knows everything about proteins, carbs, iron, and needed vitamins so they all go to him to know what to eat and what they need

kunimi has lots and lots of shoes but usually only wears 2

kindaichi has a habit of pretending hes chewing gum even though he doesnt have gum, his mouth just chomps and moves with air akasldfjkf

there was a clown phenomenon in america but in their city, they had a mascots and seijoh 4 went around scaring kids :”(

oikawa never manspreads he gets too insecure to spread out like that akdjfkd

kyotani can easily sleep anywhere like he would be standing and just fall asleep or he sleeps with his eyes open

yahaba’s parents own a restaurant somewhere in the city and he works there sometimes

IM REALLY GOING TOO MUCH ABOUT THIS YALL AKSDJFKL

SORRY IM WRITING TOO MUCH I FEEL BAD THAT I HAVENT UPDATED BUT IM IN A CAR RIDE RN AND I WAS ABLE TO WRITE AGAIN AND MY EXAMS HAVE FINISHED THIS WEEK IMMA CRY

PLEASE, FEEL FREE TO REPLY WITH ANY OTHER HCS YOU GUYS KNOW OF SO I CAN PUT IT IN HERE AND CREDIT YOU WITH IT SO WE CAN HAVE LIKE A HCS BOOK FROM EVERYONE BUT THIS IS WHAT I STARTED WITH

oikawa screams a lot according to gigi but he’s actually a really quiet guy and not easy to scare

OKAY YOU GUYS DONT KILL ME I SWEAR IVE BEEN SO TERRIBLE AT WRITING BUT YOU KNOW WHO TURNED ONE TODAY? THIS PAGE!!! MY BABY IS ONE ALREADY 😭😭😭 ANYWAYS, HOPE THIS CAN MAKE YOU GUYS SMILE TODAY AND SCHOOL ENDS NEXT WEEK AND IM ALREADY AT 132 DRAFTS AMSJKSDKSK SO OH MY GOD THERES GOING TO BE SO MUCH COMING AND IM SO EXCITED TO GET THEM OUT 😩😩

[queen0fm0nsterz]

I wonder if Scarecrow girl regret pushing away someone that she initially disliked? Given one of the meanings for scarecrow in dreams is wanting to correct negative decisions and realizing the good qualities in a person you dislike?

(give this post a read for context!)

MASTERPOST

Ok, I'm going to use this question to answer a few of the Ladies related questions I got. Thanks to all of you for the positive feedback on that theory, I really appreciated it!

Starting with you, anon.

1) About Scarecrow

You know, after making a full analysis on the Ladies and getting a good look at each one of their rooms, both in the Residence and in the Nest, I think I agree.

The question now would be, who was she pushing away?

An obvious answer would be (her) Mono. As I previously established: a Lady of the Maw cannot exist unless a Thin Man creates her and a Thin Man cannot exist unless he's betrayed by said Lady. Maybe she regrets leaving him to his fate? The Eye paintings are quite prominent in her section.

Or, this could be referring to the other girl.

I theorized that Scarecrow may have had a sister who ruled the Maw alongside her. Not only that, it might have been one of the others as well.

The candidates to fit this role would be Tengu and Teapot. I lean more on the latter.

Tengu is tecnically the second in line, following the order we previously reconstructed, yet I also mentioned that she and Scarecrow may have been interchangable because you can choose to retrieve them in either order. They're the only ones to which this rule applies; Fox will always be first and Teapot will always be last. Plus, Scarecrow's pedestal is taller than Tengu's, effectively making her the second.

Another thing I think is worth mentioning is that, in the way to reach Teapot, we have to pass over the two armchairs. Reminiscent of when Teapot had to sneak past the sisters, perhaps?

Then, when we do get Teapot, to leave the room we have to once again sneak past Tengu (albeit it's her false persona).

Lastly, I wanted to mention that Red and Blue have always been opposites. It would make sense for Scarecrow to dislike Tengu, especially considering how drastically different they behave. For example, while Scarecrow prefers to hide away from the monsters and ignore them, Tengu actively engages with them and pretends to be a monster herself. I could easily see the Lady in Blue be either disgusted or irritated by this way of handling things.

On the other hand, we have our other candidate, Teapot. I do believe it's less likely, but pictures of one of the girls in the paintings (the one with long braided hair) are seen in her area.

Of course, it's also possible that Scarecrow's possible sister is not one of the other Ladies and was someone else entirely.

This lowkey got me thinking though.

If the "Lady & Thin Man coexistence theory" (yes we're naming it lads), is true, then this means that, if there were two Ladies governing the Maw at the same time, then the number of Thin Men wouldn't line up... because one Mono accompanied two Ladies. Consequentially, our Mono would be the fifth Thin Man and not the sixth, and the number 6 on the Thin Man's door was indeed referring to the number of Ladies.

Now I can't help but wonder how such an event would go down. My guess would be that the Thin Man of the time only took one of the girls (maybe only one of them was wearing the yellow raincoat?), awakening her Hunger which would then lead her to become the Lady while her sister helplessly watches and follows.

Mh. I have to think this one through. The concept is really interesting though.

2) About Fox (and Six)

" I wonder if Fox Mask Girl met a gruesome end for being too kind? Given that kindness will guarantee suffering with certain death in the little nightmares world so it won't be too farfetched that she got killed by someone that she offered kindness to. " - anon

" You know given how Fox mask Lady was able to have children be comfortable in her presence and how she likely died a gruesome death, maybe she was the type to continue on being kind and caring despite what she experienced as a kid and becoming the Lady of Maw? Her horrible death is definitely her being punished for still being kind since the world of little nightmares is where kindness will make you suffer and guarantee certain death. " - anon

I do think she met her demise as a consequence of her gentle nature. But in her defense; if the order is correct, then she was the first Lady ever. Maybe she wasn't aware of the cycle/loop. I'm pretty sure she died at the hands of her successor after trying to offer her kindness and shelter.

(Another thing to think about: the rip on her statue kind of looks like a bite.)

People who try to be kind always get the worst possible outcomes in the Little Nightmares universe. Once again, that famous achievement expresses the core belief behind this world: "Kindness will be your undoing!"

And talking about achievements... the other day I was on the wiki reading the achievement list - as one does - and something caught my eye.

Little fox.

In the achievements, Six is referred as a couple of small animals that relate to her in some way. For example, she's called a "little canary" or a "sneaky rat". Both connections are obvious: the canary is a bird with bright yellow feathers and rats are considered vermins - which is how Six is seen by the monsters.

This only draws more paralleles between Six and Fox, who have been stated to be quite similar in many ways.

3) Additional Color White Meaning - Teapot

@pidgeapodge

That is absolutely correct! Then again, this begs the question: who or what could the Lady in White be mourning?

Again, maybe (her) Mono? Or perhaps she's mourning her own lost freedom?

Out of all the Ladies, current one included, Teapot really seems to be the most depressed about the whole situation. It's really heartbreaking considering how her coding made her out to be an innocent, pure hearted, happy go lucky soul.

4) About Scarecrow's and Teapot's masks.

@doragonlw

Thank you so much for the kind words!

So, personally I do think they kept wearing their masks, even if they're a little peculiar.

You have to keep in mind that people wearing masks is kind of the whole "brand" of the Maw.

When Six gets there every single employee and even some of the guests are wearing masks, with the only exception being the Granny. Then again, the Granny is a contractor, not an employee. She kinda does what she wants and no one can really stop her, which is really funny in my eyes.

Plus, Scarecrow is not the only one we see wearing a sack on her head. We have the Hunter as well! So I wouldn't say it's that uncommon.

Teapot's choice of mask is way more goofy, bc let's be honest. An extremely powerful force of darkness going around with a teapot on her head? But then again, it lines up with her innocent nature.

It's a stark contrast with the current Lady, who is so refined and came right after Teapot.

5) Lady Six design? An headcanon, I guess!

@agandcw20

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!

I actually may have to correct you on one thing before we go though: if the girl in this portrait in the Lady's quarters is infact a younger Lady, then it's safe to assume all Ladies before her wore a yellow raincoat as well.

Perhaps that's their signature clothing, like Mono's paper bag. Paperbag and yellow raincoat, always together.

Moving on!

Yes, I do agree on Six's kimono being yellow. A darker shade of the Lemon color - like how the Lady's kimono was a darker shade of Tangerine - would be PERFECT. Lemon is usually associated with Awareness, Enlightenment and Alertness, which I think would fit Lady Six. She finally realizes how things work in this world and how she was just a pawn into the Eye's plan all along.

As for the mask, I actually thought about it for a while. I don't think it would be the same as the Lady's, because they're really different from each other, but I still think it would have something to do with Noh masks.

Personally, I settled on the Ja mask. It's badass and scary, something I think Six would definetely wear.

(Btw, I tried searching for what Noh mask could be associated with the Lady's. I found several, but the Fushikizō may be the best candidate.)

6) Same person from different dimentions?

" Random thought but what if the ladies and Six actually exist similar to the movie "Spiderman: Into The Spiderverse", where they are actually a different version of The Lady brought into Mono's dimension to continue the cycle? Some of the masks seem to hint the presence of other worlds, AND Six's connections to previous mask owners. Six herself is also hinted to be from a different world as well, as she is labelled to be "awaking in a world she cannot recognize" " - massive brain anon

OK BUT THIS ACTUALLY MAKES A LOT OF SENSE???

And this actually explains why Mono and the Thin Man would be drawn to her! It's still his friend, but a different version of her! Especially after we've established how the human children are all lured from other dimensions in the LN universe... Wow. Good thinking, anon. This way, the selection of the next Lady is not casual and actually makes sense all things considered.

[silenthillmutual]

hey for the prompts thing, maybe artemy's children and daniil? Also if you wanna stretch your utopian characters writing muscles, something with peter and grace(artemy helping him parent her, since the man was ready to feed her worms)? eva and daniil in the friendship way?? idk, something of that sort. I love your work, you have a delightful grasp of the characters and the english language itself

this isn't my best bc i've just been practicing writing to keep that skill strong, but i decided to do a little of all three :)

-----

“Please, Eva, you have to help me.”

Eva tilts her head at Daniil, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. Daniil knows she’s not that dense; it’s not the with what question, but the why. “Really, Daniil. I think you have a handle on things as it is.”

He absolutely does not have a handle on things. He is in way out of his depth. Over his head. However the saying goes - what’s been expected is far beyond him. Cats, he can watch over easily. They’re mostly self-sufficient, independent, but children? Daniil does not know the first thing about children.

“Humor me, then,” he says. Eva ducks her head, struggling to hide a smile. “Pretend for a moment that I don’t have a handle on things. How am I meant to keep children entertained?”

“Ah, I would think you would remember what it was like to be a child!” Daniil only scowls at the floor, shuffling his feet. “You remember how you wanted to be treated, don’t you? It’s not that different from now. You treat them with respect.”

“I know how to talk to children,” he says, and hopes he isn’t lying, “but how do I keep them entertained?”

“It’s only for a few hours. I think you’re worrying over nothing.” Daniil looks over his shoulder. They’re already seated at Eva’s piano, fingers toying with the keys. Every once in a while they will make contact, a soft plonk as a flat note plays in the open space, accompanied by a giggle. “Besides, Artemy left you in charge, not me. He trusts you.”

“He trusts everyone.” It sounds like more of a complaint than it’s really meant. The haruspex’s undying faith in others is admirable, really. Burakh’s favor is probably the only thing that’s kept the town’s inhabitants from running Daniil out into the steppe. But in this one occasion, that faith seems misplaced. “I should have said no.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Daniil has no answer. Or at least, he has no good answer. Judging by the smile creeping its way onto her face, Eva knows the only one he has. He tries to fan away her concern, and is met with her soft laughter, like the tinkling of glass. “Anyway, I’d feel much safer if you were here to help me.”

“Safer? Daniil, they’re just kids. You’ve done much more dangerous things in the time you’ve been here.” Daniil purses his lips, and Eva sighs. “I’ll help you, on one condition!”

“Name it.”

“Yulia.” Eva huffs, fiddling with her gloves. “I’ve invited her over to dinner, but she hasn’t sent her response. I think she’s nervous about seeing the Stamatins again - tell her they won’t be coming if it makes her so upset! Whatever you have to say, just make sure she agrees. I’ve been dying to see her.”

Much as he’d rather not get involved in anyone else’s affairs, he is sort of desperate here. Yulia can be difficult to convince when her mind is made up on something - impossible, even, he’d say - but he knows how fond the two women are of each other, and maybe his assurance that Andrey will be otherwise occupied will be enough. And really, all he has to do is try. “Fine,” he says, and Eva squeezes his arm in excitement before turning to the kids in the sitting room.

“I see you’ve found the piano. Would you like me to teach you a few scales?”

-

When Artemy agreed to help Peter prepare for Grace’s visit, he had no idea what it was he was signing up for. He’d thought an hour or so - enough time to leave his kids with Daniil and see how they fared together without overwhelming the other man. But it’s been two and a half hours now, and Peter doesn’t seem to be any closer to grasping the basics.

“You need milk, Peter. And eggs. Basic food items.” He stops just short of asking if the man is even aware of what constitutes food. He can’t be certain that the man even eats. He’s malnourished for someone of his height, and from what Artemy can tell his main consumption is twyrine. And that won’t be good for poor Grace.

That’s the main reason Artemy’s stayed so long. He wants to get back to his kids, to spend time with Daniil before the man returns to his work, but he worries about how Grace will fare here when Peter can’t seem to grasp the importance of a clean cooking surface and fresh ingredients. “Forgive me, old boy. It’s been so long since I have sought these things out for myself.”

Artemy tries not to groan. That’s about what he’d figured, and it’s not exactly what he’d call promising.

At least the apartment is looking marginally nicer. There’s space enough for them to walk around in, the empty bottles of twyrine have been discarded and the couch has been cleared of its debris. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and Artemy can appreciate how difficult even this was for the architect.

But it’s still not quite enough. Grace will be over within the hour, and Artemy’s not sure how much more help he can be to the man.

Before he can suggest they hold Grace’s visit off another day, a knock comes at the door and the girl herself enters. She doesn’t look quite sure of herself, her fists curled tight around the fabric of her dress, her eyes cast down; but she enters all the same, and stands just outside the door, waiting.

Artemy is the first to address her. “Grace.” He nudges Peter with his foot under the table. “It’s good to see you.”

Peter looks at Artemy, solemn, and follows his lead. “Welcome, girl.” There’s an awkward pause, and Artemy kicks his shin again. Peter stares at the table. “Come in from the door. There’s room for you by the couch.”

Grace smiles shyly and tucks her hands behind her back as she enters. Her eyes widen, taking in the apartment as if seeing it for the first time. And since Peter doesn’t seem to clean regularly, she very well could be.

“What happened to your paintings?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“I’ve moved them.” Artemy is preparing himself to nudge Peter once again, but this is something he’s more well-acquainted with. He’s slow to stand, one hand on the table to steady himself, and makes his way to what passes for a bedspace in this loft. Artemy watches from the table, chewing his lip, as Peter presents a painting to her.

At least it’s one of the more appropriate ones, though there’s something frightening about the splashes of paint. He’s no art critic, and he won’t pretend to understand, but there’s something very angry about this painting. Artemy wonders how obvious it is to Grace, who hasn’t seen much outside of the graveyard. He can’t imagine there’s much experimental art in the Saburov’s house.

A sudden pang hits him, watching the two interact. He may be frustrated with Peter, but it’s obvious the man is trying his hardest. It’s just been too long since he’s even taken care of himself, that of course it will take a while before he’s able to take care of another person. And Grace has such different needs that Artemy’s unsure the Saburovs will be able to meet. The way they talk to each other, he can sense an understanding between them, even when they’re not talking about exactly the same thing.

He’s going to wind up regretting this, for sure. He didn’t mean to leave his kids with Daniil for so long, but he can’t just give up here.

“It’s about time for lunch,” Artemy says. The two turn to look at him with matching looks of surprise. “Why don’t I show you how to cook something?”

-

Artemy dropped his children off around ten. Daniil expected him back around noon. He doesn’t mind making food for the children, except - well, he’s not the one doing it. Eva caught him attempting to make some excuses to head into the kitchen and beat him to it. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, with a look in her eyes Daniil found almost threatening, “I can handle it. You stay in here and get acquainted.”

“We’re already acquainted,” Daniil pointed out, but it didn’t matter much. Eva was determined to ignore him, making her way out of the room and leaving Daniil with two bored kids.

Murky had moved on from the piano some time ago, laying on the floor with charcoals and sketch paper Peter had left out the last time he’d come to visit. She didn’t ask for permission, but if Eva wasn’t going to tell her off then neither was Daniil. He can’t imagine Peter minding much or even remembering he’d brought the items with him, and as long as it’s keeping the girl occupied Daniil doesn’t have it in him to complain. Sticky, on the other hand, has taken to snooping around the house.

“Looking for something?” Daniil asks, watching him open up an end table drawer.

Sticky shrugs. “Not particularly.” He closes the drawer with a little more force than necessary and turns his gaze to the staircase, his eyebrows near to his hairline. “What’s up there?”

“My room.”

“Can I see it?” The sudden excitement catches him off guard. Daniil fiddles with his gloves. “You have a microscope, right? I’ve never used one. I know Rubin has one, but he won’t let me see it. Do you have slides? Can you show me something? Can you show me blood?”

“One question at a time,” Daniil says, huffing with amusement. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I was the same at his age. “I suppose you can come upstairs and see it, yes. I do have a few clean slides, yes, but I don’t have any samples lying around. I suppose I can come up with something, but…” he turns to look at Murky.

“She’ll be fine,” Sticky assures him. “It’s not like we’re going far, right?” He turns to his sister. “Murky, we’re going upstairs.”

She pauses in her drawing, looking at Sticky before her eyes turn away. “Do I have to come with you?”

“I don’t suppose you have to, no,” Daniil answers. “But if you need anything, you can come up and get us, alright, dear?” She doesn’t seem all that comfortable with the term, her mouth turning into a little scowl. She doesn’t answer, either, going back to her drawing as if no interruption had occurred.

Daniil leads Sticky up the stairs, listening to his babbling about the things he’s managed to glean from listening to Artemy and attempting to follow in his footsteps, from his discussions with Rubin when the man’s come to visit. Once they’re upstairs, he wanders around the room, picking up Daniil’s books and looking at them carefully, trying to pronounce the words aloud to himself. Daniil takes his distraction as a time to prick himself for a blood sample, readying the slide and pulling the chair back out from the table.

He clears his throat, and Sticky spins around, nearly dropping the heavy tome in his hands. “You wanted to see a blood sample, yes?” Sticky nods, scrambling his way over to the desk. Daniil has to guide him in how to use the microscope, in how to get a clearer picture of what he’s looking at. And Sticky has plenty of questions for him about what he sees, about how blood works in the body, about cells and warmth and movement.

As he’s speaking, Daniil simply forgets to be nervous. It’s not all that different to lectures - and to have someone honestly listening to him is actually quite nice. He’s so engrossed in directing Sticky that he doesn’t notice when Murky joins them. When she speaks, it startles him. “Why do you have a bunch of grass in a jar?” Sticky stifles a laugh as Daniil nearly jumps, moving around to the bookshelf where Murky is on her toes, peering at a glass jar. “They’re not even the right herbs. You can’t make anything out of that.”

“It’s not all grass. Take a closer look.” Daniil takes the jar off the shelf and holds it out for her to better see it. He watches her squint, and directs his finger about halfway up the jar. “Do you see the eyes here? This is a conehead grasshopper.”

Her eyes widen. “You keep a bug in a jar?”

“Well, I’d like to get a terrarium eventually, but you don’t seem to have any in town. I’d have to order one from the Capital.” He pauses. People usually find his collection of insects strange, but Murky seems fascinated. “I have books on insects, if you would like to…” Can she read? “Take a look?” Murky nods, and Daniil takes the jar back, looking through the bookshelf for the guide he’d brought with him.

Sticky’s not particularly interested in the bugs, but he entertains himself looking through Daniil’s medical textbooks while Daniil reads passages off of the insects Murky points to. When Eva comes to get them for lunch, he has to agree to bring the book downstairs with him to get her to go.

“Dad won’t let me keep bugs,” she mumbles around her food. “Says they don’t belong in the house.”

“My mother felt the same,” Daniil tells her. It feels strange to admit it, when it’s been so long since he’s spoken of his parents to anybody. Murky turns the pages of his field guide very carefully, silent as Sticky speaks up to ask him more questions about blood flow and circulation.

Now that he’s found ways of connecting with the kids, communication isn’t nearly as difficult as he’d thought it would be. He feels a little silly for winding himself up the way he had this morning - and these are Artemy’s kids, why had he imagined they’d be such a handful? Sure, they’re precocious, but not any worse than the other children in town.

They’ve just made their way back into the main room when the door to the Stillwater opens and Artemy appears. He looks exhausted, and Daniil can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He knows what dealing with the Stamatins can be like, especially given how poorly Peter takes care of himself. He can’t begin to imagine what took Artemy so long, but things must have been pretty bad if it took him such a long time.

Artemy offers Daniil a small smile. “Thanks for looking after them, emshen.”

“It was my pleasure,” Daniil says, and he finds that for once it’s not simply a nicety. “They’re wonderful children, Artemy. Clearly you’re doing a fantastic job in raising them.”

“Truth be told, they raised themselves.” His smile is fond, turning from Daniil to his kids. “You guys ready to go?”

Murky looks up from her drawing - a new one, an attempt to freehand an illustration of a phasmid from Daniil’s field guide. She still has a slight frown on her face as she looks up at her father. “Now? Bachelor was going to show me how to catch insects with a net,” she tells him.

Artemy looks back at Daniil with some surprise on his face. Daniil can feel himself flushing as he tries to look anywhere but at Artemy. “Why don’t you come another day, Murky? It’ll give me time to get a second net.”

“I’ll be ready to go in a minute,” Sticky pipes up. “I just gotta finish -”

“Oh, you can borrow the book,” Daniil says, waving his hand. “Don’t mind the markings I left in it from school. And if you have any questions, well - you know where to find me.”

[deepdonutkid]

Hi, I'm so sorry it took me so long, I wanted to make it short as possible but always failed so...I have one that is somewhat short (this hurt me so much because when I'm describing something, it is LOONG) and second that is LOONG (that is why I warned you that I actually wrote horribly written "one-shot" or what it is actually, it would be much better, if you have time, to read both...when I tried to make it short, I maybe cut out important things...).

Like I said the girl is my OC, and her name is Sinon (given by Poll), but she is actually Maya (given by her real parents). And I gave names to her parents. But yeah, you can read it, consider if you will write it and change anything you want. Surely there are mistakes, holes and things that don't make sense.

I completely understand if you don't want to write it like "You wrote it yourself, what do you want from me, go to hell." But hey, I'm not a writer, I hate writing and I'm dead sure you can write it 100% better. To me, it looks like a grocery list. If you don't want to write it, just tell- JUST TELL ME TO F*CK OFF. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 (my apologizing must be annoying, welp, sorry once again).

So yeah.

I will send both, if you have any question, or if you don't want to write it, feel free to tell me.

➡ Short one: Ada brings to Polly a baby girl after the woman stopped her, gave her to her and quickly left. Ada discovers a small book, with the letter and a note with the name "Shelby" written on it. Polly thinks that the woman was a whore and the baby is his due to having also blue eyes. Polly decides to not saying anything to Thomas and adopts her herself. The girl grows and is known as an angel among demons. The Shelby's brothers love her, but Thomas...he lives for her. She loves him and he loves her (just...ugh 💝💗💘💓💖💕💞). They play, dance, everything. She is helping him with nightmares, bad moods, not hearing shovels, etc. Life goes by and Thomas loses his wife and brother. Polly and Ada want to cheer him up by telling him that the girl is maybe his daughter but he gets angry and says nasty things about the girl, she hears it and runs. After some time he wants to apologize but Ada stops him. She tells him she contacted the girl's family to pick her up. Thomas is devastated, not only because she leaving, but because he was just a dick to her and can't properly apologize. The Shelby's say goodbye to the girl and she leaves. After years (S5), Thomas is not himself anymore, regrets everything, etc. One day he is closed in his office sitting on the floor, mess around him and hallucinating. Then he hears knocking on the floor and is met with the blue eyes of the much older girl. He thinks she is the only hallucination and wants to shot himself, but she throws stuff into his face, launches at him, hugs him and pushes him and herself to the floor. She tells him that despite everything she loves him and that she missed him. He just hugs her tightly, begging her to forgive him and to never leave him alone ever again. They'll fall asleep and after a few hours when Tommy wakes up, his sister comes in and tells him she and her father are back and he will buy a house here. The girl never left Thomas's side and helped him heal.

➡ Disgustingly long one (it's funny how much of a useless words/sh*t Tumblr allows you to write): Ada brings the baby to Poll after a weak-looking woman approaches her and asks her if she could look after her baby because she needs to check something. When they take a look at it, their eyes meet with two beautiful big blue ones and an adorable smile of a baby girl. After washing the baby Ada discovers a note saying the name "Shelby" wrapped in the blanket. Polly immediately thinks the woman was a whore, got pregnant, then fell ill and now threw fruits of karma back at where it belongs, to Thomas Shelby. Ada asks Polly what they'll do now, but Poll doesn't say anything, Ada look at her and see Polly with a sweet smile and tears in her eyes. She wants to keep it. Why give this sweet little being to the most dangerous man in Birmingham when she can say nothing to him and rise her like her own? Ada agrees but is unsure at the same time...what if that woman wasn't a whore? What if she never had something with the Famous Thomas Shelby? She looked weak, ill, but stressed and maybe...sad? She remembers her crying and kissing this baby's head when leaving, that is not what unloving mothers do...

Polly rising this baby as best as she could now was the most beautiful, kind, clever, brave girl that ever ran through streets of Small heath. She had honey-blonde hair, similar to Ada's in style and length with long curtain bangs on her face and beautiful blue eyes, similar to Tommy's. She never liked girl clothes, always wearing boy clothes after Finn. Shelby brothers loved her so much, she never was problematic, never wanted to know things about the business, only have her little happy life and do fun things with her family when they made time for her, and oh boy they made it plenty. They played with her, danced with her, sang with her. But Thomas, a man who was drawn to this little girl like no one, was everywhere she was. She loves him and he loves her, she was something beautiful to him, peace in mind and heart, always melting how she treated him like a normal person, not thinking about all the bad things he did and just loving him for not so many good ones. He wants her to feel loved like she is one of them, not allowing her to question herself because somebody said she is not Gray, nor Shelby, that she is different and too good for Gypsies like them, like a real diamond among cheap bijouterie, an angel among demons. She helped him to sleep after every nightmare, with bad moods, stop hearing shovels against the wall.

Life goes by and Thomas experience the worst days of his life...he loses his wife and brother. The girl wants to soothe him everything will be fine. She was almost there when she heard Polly and Ada in his office, so she stayed behind the doors and listened to what were they about to say, maybe they trying to soothe him too. Little did she know what she'll about to hear. Ada and mainly Polly tells Thomas a secret about a girl Ada brought home, that Poll didn't find her in front of her doors, that in reality some whore approached Ada and pushed her her baby with a note saying the name "Shelby", and left. She didn't want to take care of a bastard child. And, our girl has the same eyes. But Tommy only scoffs and slams his hands on the table. After everything he's been through, they come up with this shit? They thought they are helping him, that his sweet girl is actually really his, that it will give him new hope for a new beginning, Thomas thought they can't be serious. His wife died, is now a single father, his brother died and now this?? He starts to shout he's not the father of good for nothing, any whore belonging, an odd, snotty and annoying child he never loved. Polly wants to beat him, strangle him but hears behind the door sobbing of her " daughter"...Polly is cursing his nephew before running after her girl, Ada following right after her. Thomas is unable to move, doesn't know what to do...He regrets every word second after but being stubborn cretin in his whole gory, he doesn't follow them but sit into his chair and let silence eat him alive.

After a few days of not facing his family and overthinking what to say and do, his sister stops him in his tracks. He's forced to sit and she starts to explain why is she here. She pulled out of her coat a burned sheet of paper, a small book and starts reading:

"Dear Thomas Shelby,

If you receive this letter...I'm begging you, please, to help my daughter. My name is Bella Rogers and I got separated from my husband, Scott Rogers when we were running from America to England. I heard about you from people in London. (Some people told her Thomas Shelby, so she went somewhere he likes to go in London, to his sister. And bc he never stayed long, she gave the baby to Ada.). I know I can't expect anything but please, contact this person (her husband's mother), tell her you saved my daughter, Maya Rogers. Tell them our names. You are my only hope now. Please help my daughter, please help me...

Thank you deeply,

Bella Rogers.

(Adress or number of her mother-in-law)

Ps: Please tell my daughter I love-"

And stopped.

Flashback: When the girl was growing, Ada confronted Poll with a small book in her hands.

Present: She handed the burned book to Thomas and he took it.

Flashback: She told Polly that the girl belongs to someone else and they deserves to know what happened to her and her mother.

Present: He carefully opened it.

Flashback: Polly knew it was selfish to keep her here, but she loved her so much she ignored every word.

Present: He started to spell the girl's name, date of birth, her parent's names, their date of birth...

Flashback: Ada begged Polly to think about this, she felt bad for a father and family that they didn't know what happened to them, but Polly had enough, she grabbed the book and a letter Ada was holding and threw it into the fireplace and with teary eyes left, Ada immediately took a piece of wood and got both things out of the fire, hoping that everything wasn't lost.

Present: Ada knocked on the table, drawing Thomas's attention from his thoughts. She swears she could see tears forming in his eyes when she told him she already contacted Rogers family and they are coming from America to get her back. He felt betrayed, he wanted to vomit. Ada tells him Polly already knows it and hesitantly agreed and that maybe it's better he said what he said, she wouldn't miss him that much and he made it easier for her not to think about him, which made him snap his eyes from the ground back to Ada. He asks her when they will arrive. An hour. Instead of getting up and do something he just sat there, sharply inhaled, and started crying. He cried, with his sister by his side, hugging him, crying as well.

When an hour was about to pass, they took all courage they had and get going to meet their girl's family and say goodbye. He wasn't ready. He never wanted to be ready for something like this.

Now they were standing there, in the uncomfortably big room, face to face with their Rogers family, two grandmothers, one grandfather and one father. He looked more beaten up by time than Thomas himself. They on the one side and Thomas, Poll and other Shelby's, Ada not with them but with the girl preparing. They greet each other, had a glass of whiskey, awkwardly debated about stuff, business, America...when then a young man asked where his daughter is, not willing to wait anymore. They called and there she was, hiding behind Ada's leg after coming into a room full of people she knew and didn't know. Her father immediately started to cry, slowly kneeled and opened his arms. She was looking at him and after a minute she starts to cry too...she maybe was the baby, but she remembers him, his face, his voice. She lets go of Ada's skirt and runs into his arms for the warmest and tightest hug she ever received. All members of Rogers family are immediately around her, introducing themself. And she's smiling, hugging everyone like she knows them for years. Thomas can't bear the sight of them so happy, especially her. He wanted so much to be in their place. He doesn't know why but asks Ada if they are really who they may be and Ada looks at him, understanding from where this is coming from. She shows him a slightly burned photo of their girl and her parents. "I remember how her mother looked like," Ada says. "And I remember her." Tommy is pointing at the baby in the middle, and Ada chuckles. "Yes, me too." "And now she about to be taken away from us and we can't do anything about it" ". Ada tries to hide her tears. They now looking at Arthur and Polly with Finn behind him hugging the girl and begging her to visit them every summer and Christmas. They kiss each other, Polly goes into a loving bear hug and kisses the girl on the cheek like million times. Uncle Charlie, Shelby's wives, even some of Peaky Blinders members themself like Curly. Now it was Ada who hugs the girl and then looks at her lovingly. "I'm gonna miss you, we all will." The girl softly smiles but looks at Thomas with an apathetic expression. Ada looks at him as well but Thomas is ghostly absent, just staring at the girl with glossy eyes, happy moments with his girl running in front of his eyes. He couldn't bear it anymore, he never ran from things, but now...He snapped into reality, quickly shaken with hands of the other side, wished them luck, TOO quickly ruffled the girl's hair and left, Ada following right after him. Rogers family just stared. Eventually, Rogers family said goodbye with the girl in their arms and left. They promised they will visit them.

That same day at night Thomas couldn't sleep, well, he never really slept after the girl left...

Years passed and Thomas was like a corpse, functioning only on 50%, if even. Ada and Poll tried to talk to him, Lizzie, his brothers tried too, but nothing helped, eventually all of them stopped. He regretted everything. One day was especially hard. Thomas was in his office, sitting on the floor with face in both hands. Around him a broken glass, two other chairs and papers. He was hearing his wife, crying charlie, shovels against the wall, gunshots, ghostly breathing. Everything was too loud. But nothing as loud as three soft knocks on the door. He lifted his head when a person who knocked came inside. His blue eyes met other blue ones. There she was, standing in front of him, much bigger and older, with a teddy bear he once bought for her. She still had it? How?. He couldn't believe it. He thought his mind is messing with him. You're not here, you're not real he said to her and every time he said it, she denyed that. He wanted to end this, grabbed his gun at aimed it at his head, but before he could do anything, a teddy bear hit his face. He opened his eyes and tried to process what just happened. You just threw your teddy bear into my face he asked. She said yes and that if she wasn't real, it wouldn't hit him. So...she was real? But how best to know your sanity is gone, then to welcome whatever your mind was made you see into your arms?

She ran to him, Thomas expected her to dissolve under his touch, but little did he know both of them would end up on the floor. She was giggling, saying he doesn't have any strength and fell easily, he on the other hand had eyes wide open, tears start to sting them. Thomas didn't waste a second and wrapped his arms around her warmly and tightly, proving to her even he can give this kind of hugs. He started to cry, cry like he never did, everything went out, rocking forward and backwards, face in her neck, begging her not to leave him alone ever again. He continued apologizing about what he said, for how bad he is, what he's done. She told him that despite everything she will always love him and that he missed him so much. He stroked her hair gently and she cuddled into him. He felt safe again. He finally was in peace.

When he woke up, he and the girl were covered in a blanket. He sits up. He smiled but got worried at the same time. How did she get in here? He needed to know. But before he could wake her up, somebody knocked. "Tommy?" Ada whispered into the room and walked in. She smiled, seeing Thomas with a little one sleeping in his lap, both covered in a blanket a cuddled to each other was....beautiful and cute. She carefully sits next to him and leans against his shoulder. He asked her how is she here, where is her father her, family. She said he didn't want to go back to America, his only plan from the whole beginning was to move to England with his wife and raise a child here, that he is buying a house. Somewhere nice and safe. In memory of his wife. A new beginning, new hope. And that she was sad and depressed. It wasn't fair from them to keep his daughter and it wasn't fair to just grab her and leave, promising to come back and never mean it. He put his cheek on the girl's hair and brushed it slowly. I think I can live with that he said. Ada chuckled. The rays of sunshine shined into his office. This is his new beginning, new hope. And he was willing to fight for it like a lion.

Eventually, the girl stayed with Shelby's family. The girl's father bought a house a few villages away so he could always pick her up and be with him. He made a little monument for his wife where his daughter put flowers Thomas or Ada bought. He knew who Shelby's were, but just like his wife telling Ada she trusted her when giving her baby to her, he trusted the rest of the family. Happy Ending!

Thank you for your time!!!!😍😍😍😍

Omg, you didn't lie, this was fucking long for a request... if this can be called a request at that length!

I really like the idea tho and it's super cute, Tommy with his daughter, etc.

Like you offered, I'm going to change a few things or to be percise... I will take the short version, because this already got me thinking and the long version was basically a story already.

I like to fill in the gaps myself and make this a full story, but it's going to take a while... because I have loads of other requests and I can't shut up... so I might write +10k again... for this idea.

Or multiple parts, I don't know yet XD

Gosh, I have to say it again... this is a long ass request... coming from meeee, the person who writes 12k ONE- SHOTS XD

Thank you for sending this in! 🌹

[monellabella]

The Starving Games ft. Freddie Weasel: AKA Pt. 1 of my Hunger Games x Harry Potter crossover series (OC x Fred Weasley)

Warnings (None of these are really graphic, but feel free not to read if any of these things make you uncomfortable!!): Blood, knives, knife wound, character death(s), severe injury mention (lost limbs), dead animal mention?? (a rat) 

This is the first fic I’ve ever written! I got the idea from a post I saw from @wand3ringr0s3 Comments and criticism are GREATLY appreciated and it’d be really cool to get some feedback on my writing style!! 

a/n: Also if I do write more, this is gonna be an enemies to allies to lovers situation bc I <3 angst 

Tagging my mutuals: @ourloveisforthelovely @darthwheezely @amrtxntia  @anchoeritic @kellsslut @whizboingies @beiahadid

Darkness. Pure black. I hear noises coming from somewhere. Muffled. Echoing through the endless void around me. The noises become louder. Someone is talking. The more I listen, the louder and clearer they get. Clear enough that I can almost make out the words. Suddenly, everything goes deafeningly quiet. My ears start ringing. But then, a single voice echoes through the silence, “Seph?”. I recognize it immediately. “Maeve?” I call out. “Seph? Is that you?” she responds, her voice shaky with fear. “Yes, yes, Maeve, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” she responds, panic rising in her voice. “Seph, I’m scared.”

“I know. I know, kiddo,” I swallow hard, “Hey. Hey, listen, I’m gonna find you, okay? Just stay calm.”

My heart is racing. I look around for some sort of clue, but nothing but complete darkness surrounds me. I tentatively reach my hand out in front of me. My fingertips graze something. Something cold. I take a step forward and reach out again. My hand finds what feels like a thin chain. I roll it around in my fingers before pulling down on it. The space is immediately flooded with blinding white light. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness. I’m at home; a tiny one room flat that I share with my mother, sister, and our cat. Except it’s empty- no furniture, not even a door. I see my sister standing a few feet in front of me, her hands bound together by a thick rope. “Maeve!” I rush towards her. “Seph!” she cries. As I reach out to hug her I’m pushed back by an invisible force. I look up and there she is- standing inside a giant glass dome. I take a few steps back, trying to register what I’m seeing.

“Shall we draw the names?” I whip my head around to see a woman in a magenta frock standing on the other side of the room. Her dress is covered in so many frills and flounces that she takes up half the flat. On her head is a ridiculous blonde wig that must add at least two feet to her height. Her face is covered entirely in white powder, with her cheeks overly rouged, and her top lip painted magenta to match the dress. She looks like a very posh clown.

“I-I’m sorry what?”

She laughs airily, “The names, darling. Surely you remembered?”

“Remember what?”

She tsked then pulled out two smaller versions of the glass dome from the frills at the front of her dress. They each had a small slip of paper in them. “Go on. Pick one.” Her voice was incredibly high-pitched, and she spoke with a capitol accent. I stepped towards her and hesitantly reached into the bowl in her right hand. I unfolded the slip of paper, ‘Maeve Whitlock’. I stared at the name in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“Will you take her fate as your own?”

“What do you mean? What fate?”

The woman let out another laugh, this one high and cold, it echoed around the entire room and caused the floor to shake. Suddenly, I heard Maeve call out to me, “SEPH!” I looked back to where she was in the dome. There was a dark, shadowy figure standing behind her, holding a knife to her neck. Her hands and feet were bound to a small wooden chair, and her mouth was now gagged with a dishcloth. I ran towards the dome, panic rising further in my chest. “MAEVE!” I shouted desperately. She looked at me fearfully, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. I banged and kicked and rammed my body at the glass so hard, I should’ve shattered something. But it was no use. I looked back to where the woman had been standing, but she was gone. The shadowy figure stood still, holding the knife to my sister’s neck.

“LET GO OF HER YOU FREAK!” I cried, banging my fists against the dome. Maeve was panicking now, her chest rising and falling rapidly, tears running down her face, her muffled pleas penetrating through the glass. “MAEVE.” I cried out; my voice cracked as the salty tears streamed down my cheeks. But I was too late. The dark figure suddenly slashed the knife across her throat, her cries stopped and she slumped down into her seat, eyes still half open, blood now seeping into her blouse. “NO!” I screamed, sinking down to the ground. The glass squeaked as my hands dragged down over the exterior. I looked back up towards the shadowy figure, only to see it was no longer there. In its place I saw myself, a satisfied smile on my face. I heard the clownish woman’s disembodied laugh echo through the flat, “What a pity,” the voice said, “you could’ve saved her! But now, I’m afraid, you must face the consequences of your actions.” The clone slowly raised the hand still holding the knife, and pointed directly at me. Suddenly, I felt the cool touch of metal against my throat. The other me winked, and I felt the blade drag deep across my neck. I started to choke, the blood pooling into my airways. I instinctively brought my hand up to the wound. My vision started turning black around the edges. I looked down to see the front of my dress already soaked in red. The last thing I saw was my own hand, holding the knife, droplets of blood falling steadily from the tip of the blade. Then, everything went dark.

My eyes shot open. All I saw was fur, and something was blocking my breathing. I sat up quickly, and the ball of fluff leapt off my face. The cat looked up at me from his new place on my lap- those big amber eyes practically staring into my soul- and meowed loudly. I sighed in annoyance. “Stupid cat.” I grumbled as I lifted him up and let him jump to the floor. I rubbed my eyes and tried to slow my racing heartbeat. My body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. I looked down at the bed to see my sister still sleeping soundly beside me. I took a deep, shaky breath and stroked the top of her head, moving away some of the stray hairs lying across her face. I glanced over at the digital clock next to me, SUNDAY: JULY 4. 8:26 AM. Today was Reaping Day; no wonder I had that horrible nightmare. This would be my 4th year participating in the drawing, it was Maeve’s first. How unlucky it was that her twelfth birthday had only been three days prior. If she’d just been born a few days later, she could’ve been spared for another year.

I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My mother was already awake, sewing some buttons back onto Maeve’s school shirt. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, just now.” I yawned.

“Is Maeve still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 8:30. Should I wake her up?”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed, “let her sleep some more. I’ll wake her up soon.” She held up the shirt to examine her work, “Still needs a few more stitches…” She held the needle between her teeth and reached down to her sewing basket to grab another spool of thread. I looked down as I felt the cat’s bushy tail brush past my ankles. I knelt down and scratched behind his ears.

“Did you feed Tulip yet?” I asked. The fluffy, tricolor, flat-faced cat was now sitting at my feet, purring contentedly.

“Didn’t have to; he caught his own breakfast. A huge rat, which he so lovingly dropped on my pillow this morning.” My mother replied.

I stifled a laugh.

“Since you’re already up, go ahead and shower. I’ve laid out your clothes for you on the kitchen table, so when you’re done, just change into them and come back here so I can do your hair. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She smiled at me then went back to her work. I grabbed some soap and a clean towel from the small shelf near the entrance and walked out. “Make sure you don’t use up all the hot water!” she called out as I closed the door behind me. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”.

We didn’t have our own bathroom- there was one toilet and one shower per floor, which could be shared by anywhere from 5 to 20 people. There were 5 apartments on each of the 4 floors- all one room- with one bed, a stove, a sink, a small table and chairs, and some shelves for storage. Each apartment had a heater and air conditioner, but they were never guaranteed to work when you needed them. Sometimes only one side of the building would have heating, or only certain floors had AC, or only specific apartments. Often, the whole building wouldn’t have either for days at a time. The same thing happened with the water and electricity. You could never fully rely on any of the appliances being in working order. As a result, we shared a lot with other apartments. If someone’s stove wasn’t working, they could just knock on a neighbor’s door and use theirs. If only one apartment on our floor had heating during the winter, there were no objections when everyone else would come over and make themselves at home. It made it feel like we were all one family, and it was customary to refer to many of your neighbors as your aunt or uncle. This was common throughout the District, as almost everyone aside from the mayor and peacekeepers lived in small, rundown tenements, expanding outwards from the city center, which was home to the Justice building. Here, in District 8, we produce textiles. There are 6 factories in total; one of which is entirely dedicated to making peacekeeper uniforms. We typically start in the factories at 14, splitting the day between school and work. We aren’t assigned specific jobs until we turn 18. Until then, those in charge of production make requests for certain numbers of workers, and we go wherever we’re needed. Once we finish school, we’re assigned permanent job positions based on both our aptitude tests and our performances in various factory tasks. The better you do on the aptitude test, the better (or at least safer) your job will be. Those with the highest scores tend to be assigned as desk jockeys- where the risk of dying on the job is fairly low. Those with the lowest scores are sent to work in the most dangerous parts of the factories; you can always tell who works there because chances are, they’ve lost some part of their limbs...or face...or they’re, you know, missing a hand...Then there’s those whose scores fall somewhere in the middle; if they have a specific skill, like baking, or perhaps healing, they’re assigned a job based on that. The rest are assigned mid-level factory jobs, which were still dangerous, but the chances of getting to keep all your fingers were significantly higher! (But not guaranteed).

When I turned on the shower, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was delightfully warm. It took everything in me not to keep standing there, enjoying the warmth, until the water would turn cold. I shivered as I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped my towel around me. I walked swiftly down the hall and flung open the door to the apartment. I grabbed my outfit from the kitchen table. A white trapeze-line dress ending an inch or so above my knees, long billowy sleeves pulled tight at the wrists, and a mock turtleneck with tiny ruffles adorning the edge. My shoes sat on the floor next to it; dark blue suede ankle-boots with small square heels.They were a birthday present from my mother; most definitely from the black market. I got dressed and pulled up a stool in front of my mother’s chair. She combed through my curls as gently as she could, but I still winced when she pulled too hard at a knot. She braided four small plaits at the front and sides of my hair, pulling them into two larger braids that she twisted together and pinned to the back of my head. She handed me the mirror. I looked into it and smiled, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I turned around and hugged her tightly. She smelled of soap and clean linen, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on- all I knew was that it was comforting and warm. I held on a little longer than usual. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She brought her hand up and gently stroked the back of my head. We both knew what could happen today...I tried my best not to think about it. Maeve soon came back from the shower and changed into a mod-style purple dress and black mary janes. My mother braided her hair in a similar style to mine, adding a small flower clip at the side. She looked us once over, nodded, then stood at the mirror and added a few pins to secure her own hairstyle. She sighed, “Ready?”

“Yeah.” “Yeah.” my sister and I said in unison.

My mother chuckled lightly as we stepped through the threshold.

We walked the few blocks over to the underground and boarded the train headed to the Justice building. The train car was packed. Everyone was dressed in their best (and most colorful) outfit. These types of clothes were only worn on special occasions; those above working age wore grey coveralls to work and school, and something drab and ill-fitting otherwise. As we exited the train car, I kept a tight grip on Maeve’s hand. As we emerged from the underground, our eyes were bombarded with light, and I squinted as the brightness flooded my vision. When my eyes adjusted, I spotted the registration table. I gave my mother a brief hug and went to join the girls’ line with Maeve. Soon, we’d reached the front. I looked down at Maeve, “You want me to go first, kiddo?”

She glanced up at me with wide eyes, then stared forward and shook her head. 

“You sure?”

“Mhmm. I just wanna get it over with.”

“Okay.” I hunched over and whispered into her ear, “You’re gonna be fine, I promise. It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll see you in a few minutes, yeah?”

She nodded. I gave her hand a squeeze and watched her walk up to the table. I heard them speaking faintly and a few minutes later, she turned around to look at me, a nervous expression on her face. I gave her a reassuring nod then headed over there myself. 

The woman at the table sat there with a bored expression. She looked to be in her 30’s, but the heavy dark circles under her eyes seemed to age her quite a few years.

“Last name?” She said. She didn’t bother to look up at me. 

“Whitlock.”

“Whitlock…” she muttered, flipping through the pages, “Right, Whitlock. Persephone?” 

“Yeah.” 

She crossed my name off the list. “You’re sixteen?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” she sighed, “Hold out your hand, please.” She took a small device next to her and clipped it onto my index finger. I winced when I felt the needle prick my skin. She unclipped the device then stamped my wrist with the capitol’s sigil. 

“You can go join your age group, fourth line from the left.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

She paused, then looked up at me sympathetically, “And um, good luck.”

I nodded and gave her a curt smile before heading over to join my peers. We were arranged by age and gender, boys and girls separate, all standing in rows in front of the stage. I stood waiting, and mindlessly watched the rows slowly multiply. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but soon enough, I looked up at the stage to see a woman in a bright magenta pantsuit. The hem of her skirt was decorated with a flounce of fabric, and she wore a light pink blouse underneath her suit jacket. The front of it contained so many ruffles, you could hardly see her neck. Her hair was pale blonde, and styled in a way that made it look like a cloud sitting on top of her head. Her face was powdered white, save for her blushed cheeks and glossy lipstick. Her lips were absurdly over lined, both painted a shocking fuchsia that closely matched her outfit. She approached the podium with tiny steps and cleared her throat daintily, “Welcome, everyone, to the reaping ceremony for the 59th annual Hunger Games!” People remained silent; the only reaction being a cough from someone in the crowd. She cleared her throat once more, “As always, we shall begin by watching a special film from the capitol, telling us the history and origins of this unique tradition, and to remind us why we are all standing here today.”

At her words, the two televisions turned on to display the Capitol’s sigil. It faded out, and a film about the glorious history of Panem started rolling. I tuned out and stared blankly at the rows of people ahead of me. When the film concluded, Ms. magenta up at the podium clapped enthusiastically. She was the only one. “Oh, wasn’t that wonderful?” She exclaimed, “What a rich history this nation has.” 

I scoffed, that’s one way to put it, I thought. 

“Now, as always- ladies first.” She stuck her hand into the large glass bowl on the right side of the podium and shuffled her hand through the slips of paper before snatching one up. She gingerly unfolded the paper and held it delicately between her index finger and thumb. 

She cleared her throat and read out the name, “Maeve Whitlock.”

I felt my heart stop in my chest.

No. 

My eyes darted through the crowd and I saw people make way for her as she slowly walked to the stage, shaking with every step. Images from my dream flashed through my mind- most poignantly, the image of me watching helplessly, as a dark shadowy figure slashed a knife across my sister’s throat. Panic rose in my chest; my heart beat so loudly in my ears that I barely heard myself shout, “WAIT!” Everyone turned to look at me. My breathing sped up as I suddenly felt at a loss for air, “I volunteer.” I added, my voice cracking slightly, “I volunteer as tribute.” Maeve looked back at me with pleading eyes and shook her head furiously. I avoided her gaze and stared straight ahead as the crowd parted to allow me through to the stage. I paused to grab Maeve’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I cradled the back of her head and planted a kiss atop her forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I shakily released her from my grasp and allowed the other girls in the crowd to place a comforting hand on her shoulders as they quietly pulled her away from me. I walked up to the stage and slowly climbed the short flight of steps to then take my place just behind the glass bowl from which my sister’s name was drawn. I can’t believe I’m about to be shepherded to my untimely death because of a stupid glass bowl. I felt my hands getting clammy, and I held to the hem of my dress to keep them from shaking. Ms. Magenta smiled and stepped towards me, “And what is your name, dear?”

“Persephone Whitlock.” I stated.

“And you are…?”

“Her sister.”

“Her sister! Oh, well, of course you are!” she remarked, “Well, that was a very brave thing you just did, Persephone. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that this was a truly inspiring moment! Well done! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” she smiled brightly and turned towards the crowd. There were a few measly claps, but they quickly fell silent. “And now, let us draw our male tribute.” She stepped over to the glass bowl on her left and repeated the process. I stared blankly past the rows of people; only when she read the name was my trance broken, “Frederick Weasley.” A tall, redheaded boy emerged from the crowd. I stared as he made his way up to the podium. I recognized him from school. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he had a twin brother- George, I think- who’d lost an ear in a factory accident a few years prior, and was thus ineligible to compete in the Games, as his injury would be an unfair advantage to the other tributes. Apparently, he’d been checking the cogs underneath a broken machine when it somehow turned on and cut his left ear clean off. It was formally reported as an accident, but it’s been rumored that he did it on purpose. There were no witnesses, so no one can say for sure, but if it was intentional, I can’t say I blame him for doing it. There are very few ways you can get out of the games if you’re under 18- something as extreme as losing an ear would certainly fall under that category. I stared at the redhead as he took his place behind the other glass bowl. He was tall, at least 6 foot 4, and seemed to tower over my own 5 foot 10 frame. I’d always thought I was fairly tall for my age, and was used to surpassing most adults in height; but standing next to him, I felt like a child. His entire body was long and lean, but I could tell from the way his shirt clung to him that he was not just skin and bone. He had a well-structured face. Round brown eyes, thin lips, a prominent, romanesque nose; his jaw was clenched as he stared straight ahead and refused to look at me. Him and his brother were known for pulling pranks and cracking jokes at school- there was a strange, impish quality to his features that unintentionally revealed his penchant for mischief. Every inch of his cool, pale skin was covered in freckles. Despite his pallid complexion, his cheeks always seemed to have a slight blush to them that made everything about him appear bright and lively. However, at the present moment, his face had been drained of all colour, save for a rather sickly green tinge. No wonder he doesn’t want to look at me- poor kid looks like he’s about to puke. Ms. Magenta finally stepped forward, “Excellent! We now have our two lovely tributes! Both of whom will now be escorted into the Justice building to await further instructions; Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” And with that, the Capitol’s sigil was once again displayed on the TVs, and its anthem blasted through the speakers. Suddenly, I felt four hands grab me by the arms and forcefully pull me backwards. I stumbled slightly, and looked up to see the two peacekeepers responsible. They continued to pull me across the stage before practically shoving me down the stairs and onto the cobblestone street. From the corner of my eye, I could see that my fellow tribute was receiving the same gentle treatment as they dragged- I’m sorry, escorted him- to the large, looming structure behind us. As they “escorted” me towards the building’s heavy brass doors, I looked back frantically, trying to spot my mother and sister. But the crowd had gotten rowdier, and they were all being jammed together as the peacekeepers continued to push them away from the stage. My breathing quickened, and I could feel the blood pumping through every vein in my body. When we reached the threshold, the brass doors opened to reveal a high-ceilinged marble hall, and a rush of cool air escaped them. So THIS is where all our air-conditioning goes, I thought to myself. Every sound echoed through the building’s marble interior. I craned my neck upwards and tried to take in every opulent detail as I was dragged down a hallway and shoved into a small room, where the peacekeepers finally released me from their vice grip. “Wait here,” one of them said. They both left and shut the door behind them. I massaged my sore upper arms. “You didn’t have to pull me so hard, you know!” I shouted at the door, “not like I was planning on going anywhere!”. I sighed and stepped back from the door. “Assholes,” I muttered to myself. I plopped down onto a green velvet armchair and examined my surroundings. The walls and ceilings were paneled in rich, mahogany wood. The square panels above me were covered in intricate carvings, complementing the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging in the center. While I assumed the floor was wood, it was hard to tell because of the heavy oriental rugs that adorned its surface. There were two large windows behind me, both framed by plush velvet curtains. They were the same emerald green as the chair, and were tied back with a thick, gold rope that had tassels on the end of it, so as to allow in natural light. There was not much furniture in the room aside from two armchairs- one of which I already occupied- a round, wooden coffee table between them, and two empty bookshelves inlaid in the wall on either side of the room. A thin blue vase containing a single white rose sat in the center of the coffee table. The smell of it was unnaturally overpowering. Something about it made me uneasy, so I carefully pushed it to the far side of the table and shifted away from it. I unconsciously started chewing on my lip. I couldn’t sit still. Sitting there shaking my leg, or playing with the hem of my dress, wasn’t helping. I let out a frustrated groan and jolted up from my seat. I continued to chew my lip as I restlessly paced back and forth across the room. The heavy rugs didn’t hide the creaking of the floorboards as I stomped across them. After what felt like hours, I heard the door creak open. I stopped in my tracks and ran to the door to greet my mother before she’d even entered the room. Her and my sister enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug which I eagerly returned. The peacekeeper standing behind them cleared his throat. We slowly let go of each other and turned to face him. “You have ten minutes to say goodbye- not a second more.” he said in a gruff voice. As my mother and sister stepped fully into the room, the peacekeeper roughly shut the door behind them and left. 

END OF PART ONE

a/n: If you’ve made it this far,  1. Hi, I love you 2. Will I write more for this series? To quote John Mulaney, “Who’s to say?”. 

[softboyscully]

Public School Stuff I Wanted to Share

public school is both beautiful and horrifying am i right

so ill just go by the grades i guess

Kindergarten, first year

i did kindergartden at a catholic school in a relativly big city so this one’s got some shit

we went to church every wednesday, me and best friend (lost track of her when we moved, wish we’d stayed in touch, she was awesome) would giggle the whole time, pretty sure we made fun of jesus once, can’t remember why, possibly the hair

i had the nicest teacher, she was (as i remember her) young, blonde, and super sweet, that was the first and last year i ever had naptime

SPEAKING of naptime

i never slept during it

once i found what i remember being a nut of some sort on the ground, probably came off someone’s shoe

i grab it, turn to sarah (my best friend), say something about putting it up my nose

sarah, apparently having common sense, says, “no dont do it!! we’re supposed to be sleeping!!”

i put it up my fucking nose

try to get it out, just push it farther in

im crying a little bit now, that shit hurts

go up to my teacher

“you’re supposed to be asleep!”

“i have a nut up my nose and it wont come out”

teacher tries to get it out, but it wont budge

just. sends me back to my mat

that was it

the art room was tiny

like re-purposed broom closet tiny

there was a copy of the mona lisa in the hallway, someone had drawn ray bans on it with a pencil, never got replaced

there was a creepy-ass basement i went down to after school, we ate cheeseballs and sandwiches with some kind of meat, mayo, and that kinda yellow bread

someone broke his leg down there once, think an older kid threw him at the ceiling or something

we learned how to play Silver Bells with actual bells in music class

Kindergarten, second year

i remember these two teachers as the evil step sister-type look, but it might be my little kid imagination

but seriously they were horrible

we learned stuff in a room that was more middle-school styled, except everything was green or black and it was v dark

me and sarah attained a new friend, john

honestly i think we would’ve stayed friends for a while if i didnt move away

i have two vivid memories

one is of me really wanting to go home, so i walked by the teacher’s desk and did a fake sneeze

they laughed at me and told me to go sit back down

the other is  john leaning his chair back and then falling, so me and sarah went to help him back up

it was funny, so he did it again

and again

me and sarah were laughing, had the time of our lives

after the maybe fifth time the teachers said “john can get back up by himself. sit down and stay there.”

one of the reasons we moved was bc i got sent a letter from my fourth grade buddie

most of the words weren’t spelled correctly, many letters were backwards

my mother was horrified

ofc now we know it was probably a learning disability 

1st grade

this is when i moved

beginning of school i was ASTOUNDED we didnt have uniforms, one of the best things ever to happen to me

nothing wrong with this teacher, she was cool

thing is i was a little shit

told everyone my dogs died (they did but i was maybe three when it happened, i remember it not)

all my personal narratives were bullshit (only one sticks in my memory, wrote it about celebrating christmas AND hanukkah with my dad’s friends who were jewish, i have never even met those friends)

had a crush on this kid, best friend (she was terrible and helped wreck me emotionally) told me to kiss him in music class. me being a stupid ass bitch, i did it, aND HE GOES TO THE TEACHER AND CALLS ME OUT. at the end of class she gets both of us to stay for a bit, AND I DENYIED EVERYTHING. i walked across the fucking classroom, kissed him on the cheek, ran away giggling, told my teacher i didn’t do anything, AND GOT AWAY WITH IT. i’ve embarrassed myself further with this child but thats another story

2nd grade

i loved this teacher but honestly he was absolute shit

like. all he did was play the guitar and sing with us

never actually taught us stuff???

middle of the year, my mom goes in for a parent-teacher conference, he tells her i dont pay attention is math.

“what do you mean?”

“she doesn’t listen, she just takes out a book and starts reading.”

“........have you.... tried taking the book away?”

“sure, i could try that.”

“o....kay”

he also told her i’d be a girl who’d grow up to love spellcheck (which i do lmao)

like ???? why not just??? teach me to spell????

there was this one dude who one day showed up, gave me a pink stuffed cat, and then asked me where i lived

funniest thing was he lived on the same street as me

something that is vivid in my memory is showing up to class one day and realizing that i was wearing my regular clothes over my pajamas

also we had fish

every day someone else was in charge of feeding them

one of the times it was my job, i grab the fish food and walk over to the tank only to find all of the fish floating on the top

i screamed “THE FISH CAN FLY?!?!?!?!?!”

everyone ran over, all of us scarred for life when Mr. G walks over and goes in the most normal voice ever “no theyre dead”

we held a funeral

the cause of death is still undetermined

3rd grade

this year just draws a blank for me

all i know is that whoever the teacher was, they neglected to teach me how to tell time from a clock

also we learned the Cotten Eyed Joe dance in gym around here

4th grade

i had two teachers this year

one was the same one from 1st grade, the other one was a total bitch

made a girl named hannah ball her eyes out once, never apologized

i was (and am) and avid reader, so my reading skills were high above average

instead of being proud of me she told me i was weird, not normal, and too smart for a 4th grader, so i MUST be cheating. 

she was the start of a lot of self confidence issues for me ngl

this was around the time i went and got tested for ADHD (me and my grandmother almost broke down on the highway but thats another story), Mrs. M (the nice one) was super supportive when i told her why i was leaving early but Ms. S (bitch) told me ADHD wasn’t real and i just wanted to be special for once

she sucked, Ms. S

5th grade

this is getting super long so this’ll be the last one i do

but my teacher..... Mr. F was A+++++

he legitimately taught me math

we had i guess like,,, a buddie class we switched with sometimes

the teacher of that class was Mrs. R, who had crazy red hair and many freckles

at one point she referenced a meme and my entire class started screaming

also there was another Mrs. S (to differentiate this one will be called Mrs. Su)

she was kind of crazy

she was the astronomy teacher and she told us many times that the moon landing was faked

once she handed out sunscreen and had everyone put it on their whole body (this was in december, fyi)

Mr. F also hosted an ‘archeological dig’ which sounds cool but in reality he had a bunch of arcade prizes from his childhood buried in little flower pots we dug into with plastic spoons

also heres some stuff i cants pinpoint the time of/happened in multiple grades:

someone held a who-can-scream-the-most-like-a-goat contest

a guy named Makenzie won

remember we planned it while the teacher left the classroom so the teacher walks back in and one by one everyone in the room starts screaming, there was some applause, a few kids got a standing ovation

we cleaned out our desks in the middle of the year, i found 3 socks and a dog treat in mine

like how the fuck did any of those things get there

and where’s the fourth sock

b o t t l e f l i p p i n g

but no seriously there were at least five water bottles stuck in the ceiling in the cafeteria

my sorta friend charlie was obsessed with paper airplanes

one time he might’ve broken the world record for longest time in the air but he was counting in his head and it was at recess so there was no video

four square and gaga ball would be played no matter the setting, time, or conditions and it was super competitive

like if you could get to king in four square you got the everlasting respect of everyone

and everyone was super educated on four square special rules, special plays, that kinda shit

no but guys i grew up with bus stop, candy store, haunted house on mondays, haunted mansion on fridays, zombies was fair game unless it was Zach, Ryan, Chrissy or Vee

me and one other guy named andrew were the only known pjo fans, had the time of our LIVES making refrences

“HEY ANDREW IM NOBODY”

“I HAVE WAITED YEARS FOR YOU, NOBODY, COME HERE AND FACE YOUR DEATH”

“hey annabeth, i thought you looked like a princess when i first saw you. i printed out a picture you sent me casually and kept it with me. i snuck along on a quest so i could save you, endangering myself immensely. i held the sky for you. when you talk about your crush on luke, i get jealous. beckendorf understood, but hes dead.”

“ikr we’re literally the best of friends”

“RIGHT”  

also the first time we finished mark of athena we were in the same classroom and we individually dropped the book, stood up, looked at each other, and screamed “WELL FUCK YOU TOO RICK RIORDAN”

[yessoupy]

the @imetyouonljpodcast episode this week gave me lots of thoughts and feelings about star wars. more like, reminded me of all my thoughts and feelings around my first fandom. thus, I decided to write my own journey into and throughout star wars fandom, and what it means to me. buckle up, this story spans decades.

my very first memory of anything star wars-related is a yoda puppet that my grandmother had. it had to be from the original run of the movies, because I was maybe 4 in my first memory of it, and i was born in '86. my sisters and I loved it, and one of our cousins was deathly scared of it so we'd chase him around the house with it.

my second memory of star wars was going to the movie store with my dad and sisters and seeing our favorite yoda on the cover of a VHS. "yoda yoda yoda! daddy, it's yoda!!! can we get it?" we were holding up the display cover for return of the jedi. dad said no, we couldn't get that one yet because we had to watch them in order. so we rented a new hope and all I remember was falling asleep while artoo and threepio were trundling across the tatooine desert sands. at five I guess I was too young.

in early 1997 the special editions of the original trilogy were aired in theaters and I was in 4th grade. dad took us to see one of them (I think empire, at some point we'd finally finished a new hope). at school that grading period I sat next to a boy named mark and he noticed I was drawing little x-wing silhouettes on my paper. "you like star wars too?" he asked. when I said yes, he declared that because of my name, he was going to call me skywalker. that's the name on the back of my high school letter jacket.

in fall of 1998 I started the 6th grade and I came home from school one day to a hardbound book my mom had checked out for me from the library. heir to the empire by timothy zahn. mom pointed out where it said on the cover it was a trilogy, and I could get the other books when I finished this one. she hadn't found the young jedi knights series for me. she'd checked out a GROWN-UP star wars book.

in spring of 1999 the phantom menace came out and my parents' friend took me to see it on opening day because neither of them were free and I HAD to go that day. later on that year she took me to a star wars exhibit at the museum of fine arts. that was also the first time I saw a monet and a renoir. the exhibit had costumes (real costumes!!!) from the original trilogy and the newest prequel. I bought a book about the myth of star wars in the museum gift shop.

I read every expanded universe book our local library had, which was a lot. I had a lot to catch up on, too, since heir to the empire had been published in 1992. you never saw me at school without a star wars book. I read while walking in the hallways, even. in 6th grade I read during lunch, since I was in varsity orchestra with 7th and 8th graders and was terribly shy. they'd tell me I should socialize at lunch, not read my books, but... I wanted to read. I had a lot to learn. I have a lot to know.

I was in 7th grade when I read vector prime, the first in the new series. my first class of the day was science, and the boy I had a crush on was in that class. we had DEAR time at the beginning of that class - drop everything and read. not a hardship for me. that day, I read the part of the book where chewbacca was killed. I looked up, astonished. heartbroken. I locked eyes with the boy I liked. he nodded at the book and I showed him the cover. he nodded sympathetically. "they killed chewie," I whispered. he said "I know."

I wrote original characters in star wars fan fiction when I was about 13. I had an internet friend named rachel who lived in brisbane. then there was dave and 'roswell' who gave me ideas for my story. I loved being able to talk about the wide world of star wars with other people. we used aol instant messenger and email. my username in those days had 'skywalker' in it. I am pretty sure we met in an aol chatroom. I didn't find much of use on the official star wars site and I have probably visited it fewer than 10 times since 1999.

I read those books all through middle and high school. they were my christmas presents and my birthday presents. I moved into our family beach house after college. it sounds really nice but I didn't have running water because it was the summer after Ike hit. I would go to the used book store on 23rd street and buy a stack of star wars books and read them while I waiting for calls to interview for a teaching position. weekends I'd go into town to stay at a friend's house and help her with wedding stuff. I'd shower there, too. that's where my new stash of star wars books started, with me catching up on the legacy of the force series I hadn't read in college and then finishing up through the fate of the jedi as those came out. I felt that I had grown up with these characters. I remembered when kyp was just an orphan han rescued, when jacen and jaina were five years old, when corran horn had no wife, no kids, and was just finding out who his family was. I had capital o opinions about what color lightsaber i would have and why (silver; bc corran), I knew the geography of the galaxy and where everyone was from and my favorite planet was dathomir because women ruled it. I knew all of these characters' histories and motivations and the difficult decisions they'd made and had to live with. I loved them.

i never ventured into the online fandom space for star wars, even after I'd found other online fandom spaces, because I didn't feel like there was anything anyone could add to it for me. I was satisfied with all I'd gotten. sure, favorite characters had been killed (after chewie, the one who stung most was Mara, luke's wife), but people die. and in such a long-running series spanning so many years and trillions of miles of space... you come to expect it.

people would ask me ALL THE TIME when the sequels were coming out and I said never. then, disney bought star wars. initially I was excited (tears of joy happy) to have sequels confirmed. my mind raced, imagining a trilogy centered on the events surrounding jacen's descent to the dark side. the original actors would be the right age for that. who could play jacen?

then, the announcement came that the canon was now 'legends' and they wouldn't be taking any of it into account when writing the sequels BUT that didn't mean we wouldn't see old canon favorites. they announced adam driver as the villain and I thought "jacen." I held onto the idea that this knowledge I had, these years of knowing these stories, would still be worth something. that I'd be able to add new information to my mental bookshelves and maps. that my universe would expand further.

the force awakens was a bitter disappointment. I was upset from the crawl, leia's title making it clear to me that she wasn't chief of state, she wasn't the mother to three children, han wasn't her husband, and all of her history I'd grown to love really was gone. what I saw was the older version of a woman I'd met when she was 18 and hadn't seen her since her early twenties. I didn't know her.

I didn't know the galaxy, either. starting with the new jedi order series, a map of the galaxy was included in the front of each book with the planets named so you knew where everything was happening. the new galaxy was bare. it was small and knowable. while the hosnian prime system was destroyed in the movie, I'd never known it, and all the planets I DID know were similarly blasted out of memory. where was dathomir and its fierce warrior witches? if their planets were gone so were their people.

as the movie trudged on, a retelling of a new hope, I kept thinking, "at least let his name be jacen." I hung my hopes on this sith character being han and leia's son and sharing that name of the boy I'd known and the man who'd grown up to turn to the dark side. at that first shout of 'BEN!' I was angry. Ben?? that was the name of LUKE'S son! that was MARA'S child! Ben??? with three letters jacen solo and ben skywalker were also dead to the galaxy.

I know, I know. I should get over it. I AM thankful for poe dameron. the x-wing books were always my favorite. poe was familiar to me the way other new characters weren't. he was part of the new republic navy. I knew what that was. he flew an x-wing. I knew what that was.l and what company manufactured them. he was from yavin IV, I knew where that was and what it looked like. finn was a stormtrooper, yes, but the empire had not stolen children to be raised as stormtroopers. they were recruited like any other position. his story wasn't real to me, it wasn't something I could easily accept. and the idea that the new republic just LET the first order rise? leia's new republic would NEVER. but leia wasn't chief of state in this universe. leia hadn't had that power.

I read a lot of articles about the force awakens and the reactions to it, and never saw myself in any of them. the star wars fanboys whom I'd never known were painted as being angry because their fan knowledge was useless and "boo-hoo poor widdle fanboys" they would be mocked, rightfully. but that's why I was angry, ultimately. everyone I knew and loved was dead. worse, they'd never existed. "what do you think will happen?" some unsuspecting coworker would ask. I'd shrug, but inside I was yelling "who the fuck knows! my favorite characters don't exist anymore. nothing I know as this person you know as SKYWALKER means anything anymore."

it only got worse from there. One day I spent four hours figuring out how far the casino planet was from the drifting ships in the last jedi and doing math to figure out how long it would REALLY take to get there, using old canon star wars physics. I couldn't suspend my disbelief during that movie. everything was wrong. (the other space physics quibble I had was from TFA when poe is using comms while in hyperspace, and dropping out on a command and not... when nav told him to?? you'd fly right through a star!! were they HOVERING in hyperspace? none of it made sense.) I knew too much and too little to enjoy it.

TROS was a narrative mess already retconning new canon and I decided that I would only keep what I liked about the new canon (poe and his family) and pretend the old canon is all there is. one day I'll write the story of poe being part of the storied rogue squadron being sent by leia's new republic to put down the fascist upstarts at the edge of the unknown regions. one day.

one more quick story -- i met my college friend’s three kids for the first time when the oldest was 6. i’d sent a toy lightsaber as a gift when he was born, because i believe every child should get their first lightsaber from a skywalker, and his father had shown him the movies when he turned 4. when i walked into the house i said hello and he said, “i have some questions about star wars.”

we sat on the couch with the tfa visual dictionary, a book he’d gotten out of the library. every question he had was an excellent question, and i couldn’t answer any of them. “why does his lightsaber look like that? and why does he have the extra blades?” 

“well, kiddo, let’s see what it says here about how lightsabers are made. i used to know all about it, but they changed everything on me.”

---

what i love about star wars since disney bought it:

poe dameron, cassian andor (and all of rogue one, i got over the fact that the movie wouldn’t be about rogue squadron it was PERFECT), solo (a fucking DELIGHT), the mandalorian, and i’m sure the cassian andor live action will be amazing and i’ll love it. 

[shapeshiftinterest]

mao mao fanfiction prompts: knight au version 1, Your Knight CH 1

knight mao x king badgerclops 

mini mao x prince BC for this chapter

the first time they meet, badgerclops gets hit in the face with a wooden sword and mao mao is totally, absolutely, definitely not crying behind a tree

story under the read more

Your Knight (also on ao3)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Mao sat in the shade behind a large tree in the palace courtyard, his back against the trunk. He sniffled, stifling a hiccup as he rubbed his eyes with one of his wrists. 

Stupid sisters, stupid dad, stupid bring your kid to work day! 

...

Stupid Mao Mao.

His face scrunched, throat closing up a little as a quiet whine slipped out. 

NO! He was a big boy, and big boys weren’t supposed to feel sad when their older sisters made fun of their training results. 

O-or when their dad held onto their backpack while they went to the bathroom but wasn’t there when they got out, leaving him with no snackies. 

Or when... when they got lost, at the training grounds. And all the other kids there either ignored them or called them weird and none of them would help him find his sisters.

Mao buried his face in his arms and muffled an unhappy scream. Usually this wasn’t an issue but after all those things piling up he couldn’t help it.

He’d been looking forward to his first palace visit too!

The kitten stood up, turning around and hurling their wooden back up sword away as hard as they could.

THUNK!

“OW! What the heck?“

Uh oh.

Mao slowly opened one of his eyes. Another kid wearing a pink sunhat was sitting on the ground a few feet away and rubbing their head, Mao’s wooden sword lying next them.

Papers and drawing utensils were scattered everywhere. Mao moved to pick them up before the drawings could get too dirty. 

“I’m sorry! Lemme help-“ he froze, coming face to face with what could only be the cutest boy he’d ever seen, now that the hat wasn’t in the way. Oh, oh wow. 

‘He’s even prettier than Tanya.’ Mao thought, cheeks feeling warm.

Soft looking brown and white fur, complimented by pink sunhat, with a cool looking black eye patch looped over their left eye. 

Their right eye was a pretty blue color, and even though they were both crouching, he could tell the other was probably taller than he was. Mao really wanted to squish their cheeks.

Right now though, that ‘pretty blue eye’ was glaring at him. “What's your problem?“ the boy huffed, putting his hands on his hips.

Mao blinked, snapping out of his stupor. Quick! Say something heroic! 

“Huh?“ 

Nailed it.

The boy scowled, gesturing to his face. “You can’t just throw stuff wherever you want, man. You could’ve taken out my other eye!“

Mao’s ears fell back, tiny hands crumpling the drawings out of reflex. 

“I didn’t mean to...“

The other’s face scrunched up before softening, shoulders dropping. “Sorry, I’m just... having a really bad day today, y’know? My cousins are being total butts.”

Mao offered the papers he’d picked up and took the wooden sword from the boy. “Me too.“

“Really?“

“Yeah. The bad day part I mean. My dad left with my backpack and I can’t find my sisters anywhere.“

The cat leaned back to sit on the ground, hugging his knees as the other crossed their legs. 

“Plus! The other kids made fun of me for not having friends! I have friends! They- they’re just... not here today.“

“Riiiight“ his companion side eyed him.

Mao pouted. “I do have friends!! See?” He pulled out a photo of himself, Tanya, and Bao Bao from his overalls pocket. “Three! Whole! Friends!”

“One of them is you though?“ The boy pointed at the Mao in the picture.

“You better believe I love me like a friend.“ he said.

He was about to put it back when the other grabbed out of his hand.

“HEY!“ Mao pounced on him, knocking them over. He made a few grabs at the photo but the other kid had a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, is that Tanya??“

Mao stopped struggling, “You know Tanya?”

“Yeah dude! Her dad works at the palace, she’s my friend too.“ They carefully handed the picture back. “She’s doing outside work with her dad though, and my other friend, Honey, lives in the neighboring kingdom with her mom.“

The two sat together in silence, both stewing over the fact that neither of their friends were around.

Mao’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he started to smile. He scooted closer to the other kid. “Wait a minute, what if we became friends?”

“Huh?“

“We’re both friends with Tanya but she’s not here, plus neither of us have our other friend to keep us company, but if we become friends we can hang out with each other!“

Mao was practically bouncing from how great his idea was. He’d get to make a new friend, and they were already friends with Tanya so he knew they were a good person!

“Oh wait, introductions. I’m Mao Mao, by the way. What’s your name?“ He asked, extending his paw for a handshake.

The taller boy stared up at him, stunned by his enthusiasm. 

“You can call me Badgerclops.” he said, shaking his hand with a grin. 

[mcrmadness]

Wanna see something stupid? I finally scanned some of my old die ärzte doodles. I bet these happened in 2009 or so, when I was 18. My brother said we usually used to draw all kinds of stupid doodles while watching die ärzte videos late at night and if I was 18, then that means my siblings were about 14 at the time.

Okay so first of all: I was OBSESSED with dä’s Serienklassiker and the Die Biene Maja sketch, and because I didn’t have my “human style” yet, I used to draw just horses and rats everywhere. Like this:

This^ paper is simultaneously my favorite, because of the doodles, but also the most cringeworthy thing ever, because of ME. Like. I did not speak ANY German at that point. Only word I was able to pick up from the skit was “aber” which Farin repeats a couple of times in it. Back then it was way too hilarious but now as I actually can some German, whenever I look at these doodles I just wanna hide under the ground and never show my face again. I mean, it’s a VERY COMMON GERMAN WORD and I made it into something hilarious because of how Farin pronounces it and because it legit was the only thing I could write down too. Probably the first German word (after “die ärzte”...) that I ever learnt. I just can imagine how idiotic this doodle looks like for native Germans, it would be exactly the same if some Finnish band had some stupid skit and a foreign fan understood only the word “mutta” (=but) from there and then kept writing it everywhere because it sounded so hilarious. So yeah, the cringe is real! And I’m sorry for your suffering if you have read all the way here</3

But wait! There’s even more...

I think those are heavily related to this drawing that has doodles from me and my siblings.

Mostly these are mine but but those characters at the right bottom corner are my brother’s (I think they are again to be about the dä’s Die Biene Maja version). Some of those little dust ball thingies are also by my brother but also by our sister, same with the coconuts and the stuff on the left. We weren’t even completely sure which is whose anymore... I think the dust ball right between those two horse heads is by me - about the apple cores I’m not entirely sure. Then I think from the bottom row horses the one on the right was probably otherwise drawn by me but I think my brother drew the eye and nose etc. for it. All the texts are written by me.

(The doodle on the right top corner is based on something I drew into my physics notebook at school as a teenager. I don’t know what other countries teach to very young kids about electricity but here they always talked about “electricity trolls” and that the circuit boards as tehir “cities”. So once I was extremely bored in physics class as a teen and in my head I kept answering with everything snappy to the teacher’s questions and one was “what is moving around in power chords?” and in my head I just went “Well duh, electricity trolls...” and then I drew some electricity trolls into my physics notebook lmao.)

And then, here we’ve got some more apple cores, a cloud of some sort, “BF Milk” because I’m stupid, an “Igor apple” because of Igor obsession Richy Guitar + bc idk what was wrong with me around the time. I think I had been talking about chemistry and physics because that one word there is something to do with physics and my old notebooks.

And here some more weird-ass doodles:

“Kitaristi” is actually a pun, my brother did something with that at school back in the day. You maybe can guess that it means a “guitarist” in Finnish but it also has two words in it: kita and risti. Those mean “mouth/palate/throat” (usually something big like a dianosaur’s or a big cat’s mouth) AND “cross”, which is why in the image there is one of my dinosaur-like characters with a cross in its mouth.

Then there’s a cat with trousers, a hair or toupee that is walking away(???) and some weird four-legged bird with a bun. And I used to have a Sony Ericsson phone so I tried to write/draw the logo.

And here’s yet another. There’s a girl tooth and boy tooth. A cat, car, rat, another cat and a female character from my OC comic Micro the Insane Murderer. Then I have drawn a puzzle because of Bela and Farin, a couple of hedgehogs because one of Rod’s 90s hairstyles reminded me of a real fur hedgehog toy we had and I had to draw that toy. Then apparently I have drawn some vultures but I have no idea why.

And last but definitely the least, probably the most awful thing I have ever drawn and I regret it greatly:

I had pet rats. One of them was called Batman. And for whatever reason I had to draw him with Bela’s pants that I used to call as “suomuhousut” which means “scale pants” because they looked like scales. You’re welcome.

Kids, don’t do antidepressants, they make you really lose all your inhibitions. (Just kidding, take them if you really need to. But my own personal opinion? Never again.)

[boobootheclownfool]

Rough Nights

sawamura daichi x reader warnings: night terrors word count: 2200+ A/N: this is very fluffy and wholesome and makes me extremely happy inside. It gets kinda deep at some points bc I was writing this when I was feeling the exact same way as y/n and got in my feelings ( ˘•̥ _•̥ ˘ ) sadly it didn’t work out the same as this but you know what it is what it iz. I hope you enjoy reading ( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎ ） Snow cascaded down from the sky at an alarming rate. The wind was blowing through the giant pine trees, and the combination of the two made it impossible to see more than a hundred metres into the distance. I blew into my cup of cocoa, steam blowing back into my face. Even if we weren't able to go outside, I was still content here. Surrounded by those who I hold dear.

Every winter holiday, we would travel with our family friends, the Sawamura's, up to the mountains. We had a house up here, where we could stay and hide away from the rest of the world, even if it was only for a couple of weeks. Due to our lives being so busy this was the only time out of the entire year, except for maybe a couple of dinners, we were able to catch up. I treasured it a lot, seeing as I would consider Daichi Sawamura to be one of my closest friends. Maybe I felt him to be a bit more than that, but I could never tell him. I wouldn't want to ruin the relationship we have built throughout our lives. I could never do that.

When we were children, we spent our time up here outside. The days consisted of snowball fights and snowmen. We'd spend our time covering the backyard with snow angels, each pair doing different activities. At night the fresh layer of snow would cover it up, and we'd spend the next day doing it all over again.

However, as we got older, our time outside slowly got shorter. As the workload of middle school began, then high school, and now college, we barely have time to run around like we used to. Instead, we would move a table to the living room, so we could stay cosy in front of the fire as we worked, and watched our younger siblings do what we used to.

With age, feelings began to grow. Feelings nursed each day as I spent every second with him. Feelings that grew consistently until it was time for us to go home again. It was a painful yet magical cycle, every year they simmered until we would see each other again, and then they boiled until we were separated. Because of this, even at the age of twenty, I had never had the time for anyone else. In my mind, no one could compare.

I think the part that was the most painful was the fact that I was too afraid to talk about it with him. It just seemed impossible. He was like a fantasy that I got to see once a year, someone who could do no wrong. What would happen if I shared my feelings with him? I was scared, scared that if I told him how I truly felt the feelings wouldn't be reciprocated and it would hurt what we already have. I suppose this is how it is when you build a friendship with someone only during good times. How are you able to rock the boat when neither of you knows how the other person reacts under that kind of pressure?

I sipped my cocoa, closing my eyes in pleasure at the creamy taste.

"You alright there?"

Daichi Sawamura was humorously staring at me from across the table. The table scattered with an excessive amount of paperwork. College work.

I groaned. "I would say I'm anything but alright at the moment." I glanced down at the essay I had stopped writing mid-sentence as I got lost in the outside world and my thoughts. Is it wrong that I wanted to set it on fire? I despised this unit.

"Now, now, it can't be that terrible, can it?" Daichi stood up from his chair and moved around to my side of the table. "Let me have a look." Sure enough, the man who wasn't even studying the same course as me was able to understand the content better than I had. Instead of doing his own work, he helped me complete mine until the only light illuminating the room was the glow of the fire and everyone else in the house had made their way to bed.

"I think I'm going to sleep," he had yawned. "I'm exhausted, and I really want to be able to go skiing tomorrow without falling asleep standing up." His arms extended over his head as he leant back in his chair, face scrunched in a tired stretch. The white, long sleeve shirt he wore had lifted just slightly to reveal his lower abdomen, and I watched as his muscle rippled.

Lowering my eyes back down to my now completed paper, I gulped, before looking around in search for any other coursework to do. The thought of going to bed right now flustered me to no end. You're probably wondering why? Well, my younger sister had convinced our parents to allow her boyfriend to come away with us. The only catch? They were not permitted to share a room. Daichi was kind enough to allow him to sleep in his room. Do you see where I am going with this? We don't have any spare rooms in the house. He has to sleep in my room.

Our parents have decided that we're old enough and responsible and that they wouldn't have to worry about anything happening. And whilst they're absolutely right in saying that nothing was going to happen, it didn't mean it wasn't going to slowly kill me inside that Daichi was sleeping in the same bed as me.

Not being able to find any work to start at that moment, I simply nodded my head in agreement. That we did, in fact, need to go to bed if we wanted to be functioning humans tomorrow, and began to pack away all of my loose pieces of paper. I couldn't say anything; I was too nervous.

Daichi, who had already packed up his belongings, stood from the table, and cheerfully smiled at me, "I'll see you in a minute then!" He walked out of the living room, humming.

Realising that I wasn't breathing, I released a big sigh before hitting my forehead against the edge of the table dramatically. "Stupid." I had to get a grip on myself before I made it even more apparent.

I took a ridiculously long amount of time to get ready for bed. Trying to build up as much courage as I could, before I walked into my bedroom. My eyes immediately landed on Daichi, sprawled out over the covers, his phone in his hand. Thankfully, he was fully dressed in black tracksuit pants and an old volleyball tournament shirt. I don't know if I could have handled his typical sleeping attire, and I was glad he'd thought of how comfortable I would be.

Noticing my arrival, he sat up and smiled. "I was waiting for you," Tilting his head to the side, he gestured to the bed. "How do you want to work this?"

I clapped my hands together before walking over to my closet, trying to contain my nerves. "Mum keeps all of the spare pillows in here! I thought we could create a little wall of something?" I reached up toward the top shelf of the closet, trying to grab the pillows which were just slightly too high up for me to grasp. I became very aware of the cold air on the back of my thighs and silently cursed at myself for wearing pyjama shorts that were just a little bit too short.

I turned around to Daichi with a pout, and he laughed at me before making his way over to help.

Eventually, we managed to create a wall of pillows down the centre of the queen-sized bed. I flipped off of the lights, before quickly running back to the bed and jumping underneath the covers with a squeak. One thing that always scared me was the dark.

Daichi chuckled softly, "Goodnight, (y/n)-chan."

I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see how red my face must have been. "Goodnight, Daichi-san." I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, trying to distract my mind from any thoughts that shouldn't be there.

My breath hitched in my throat, and I woke up gasping for air.

I had a reoccurring dream, one that I would only get when we were away on this particular trip. When we were younger, around nine or ten, Daichi and I would often go exploring in the forest that surrounded the holiday house. Except, one time we got lost. It grew dark, and eventually, our parents found us. I've had dreams about it ever since, my imagination running wild with what could have happened to us.

Panicked, I tried to slow my breathing down to a regular pace but to no avail. I felt like I was choking on air.

A hand began to stroke my hair. "Are you alright?" I could feel the vibration of their voice right in front of my face like I was pressed into someone's throat. That was enough to stop air from entering my lungs altogether. I tensed up but immediately relaxed when their fingers made their way to my scalp, slowly beginning to rub.

As I calmed down, I became more physically aware. I noticed that I was indeed wrapped up in Daichi's arms. Legs tangled together, my face pressed into his neck. He had one hand wrapped around my waist, the other softly stroking my head. It was so soothing that I couldn't bring myself to do anything about it. I didn't care about what happened to our pillow wall; I wanted to stay like this forever, bundled up in his warmth, listening to the soft sounds he was making to soothe me. The scent of rosewood intoxicated my mind as I inhaled deeply. I felt him bury his nose into my hair, drawing in a large breath before his chest slowly moved up and down in an even rhythm. My mind relaxed even more, and I drifted into a tranquil sleep just as a pair of lips pressed tenderly against my forehead.

I was woken again, but this time not from a nightmare. A loud rumbling sound ripped through my left ear and I jumped in shock, accidentally bumping Daichi in the process. He let out a loud groan.

"Jesus Christ," I managed to whine out, clutching my ear. "Do you keep a train up there?"

A sleepy laugh sounded from Daichi which made me melt on the spot. He pulled me closer into the warmth of his chest. "Mmm, maybe I do. Sorry about that." He began to press small kisses against my ear and on the top of my head before I felt his breathing start to slow down, and he slowly dozed off again.

This definitely felt like a dream to me, and maybe that's why we were both so okay with it happening. The reality of the night was different from the reality of the day. At night you could get away with anything. There were no boundaries. People were different, more confident in the dark. I nuzzled my face against his neck, gently placing a soft kiss right underneath his ear before I drifted off again.

The feeling of hair being pulled behind my ear roused me from my slumber. I could feel the light shining against my eyelids, making it almost painful as I opened them. Immediately, Daichi pulled his hand back like he'd been caught.

It was a picturesque scene, the curtains had been slightly drawn, and sunlight was peaking through, beaming from behind Daichi like he was an angel. The sight brought a small smile to my face. I'm not sure when, but we had separated ourselves, and he laid on the other side of the bed."Sorry about that. I didn't mean to wake you," he murmured out, scratching behind his ear as though he was embarrassed. His biceps flexed as he did so, and I couldn't help but blush as I remembered those exact arms had wrapped around me so intimately last night. My heart rate sped up.

Neither of us said anything for a while. We just laid there in peaceful silence. Breathing in slowly, I drew in the scent of rosewood. I closed my eyes in ecstasy, and hummed happily. It may have been the most delicious scent I had ever smelled in my life.

I flickered my gaze back to Daichi. I was too nervous about bringing up what had happened last night. So many questions ran through my brain. Did this mean he felt the same way I did? Or was he just trying to comfort me? What does this mean now?

Somehow, I blocked them out. They were ruining the moment. All I wanted to think about and all I was going to think about was how lovely it felt to be wrapped up in his arms.

A realisation came over me. I didn't just want to remember it. I wanted to experience it every night for the rest of my life. A sense of motivation seemed to take over my brain, and I opened my mouth, ready to confess.

[nad-zeta]

Match up ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

hey love ! may i have a ikesen match up please? (*´꒳`*)/ i’m not the best at these, so i apologize if i rambled !

about me ;

( fem. isfj. gemini. hufflepuff. )

i’m generally pretty quiet & reserved, but depending on the person, i can be social ! i tend to look very serious, but i swear i’m just an awkward dork who cares a lots about the random things ?? i’m generally like that worried « mom » type friend in my group— idk how many times i’ve been told « okay/yes mom » ; i think i’ve just accepted it at this point. i like to think i’m pretty kind & hardworking. i try to be very polite & courteous around people– patience being my main thing when interacting with others. with people i’m close with, my humors ranges from horrrible puns to sarcastic comments.

for some of my interests/hobbies— i really enjoy writing, reading, drawing (from time to time), playing sports (i have a competitive side lol!), learning, and listening to music. i adore cats, rainy/stormy weather & those late night conversations with close friends for some reason?? i dislike hot weather & when people cry (bc honestly i’m so bad at helping & i feel bad). i honestly am the person to go to for someone to listen to you as i’m not that confident in giving advice askadftjdsk.

thank youu for taking the time to read this- i appreciate you spending time on these !! ＾＾

Hi hi, love!🌻❤ Thank you so much for the request and for waiting sooooooo long!🔥 I hope you enjoy it and I hope you have the best day!🌻❤ 

So I match you with............. Yukimura 

The first time you meet Yukimura was when he saved you from falling to your death while you were running away from the Oda forces. He pulled you by the waist back to safety, and soon both of you realised just how close you were. Yukimura still had his arms around your waist, and the two of you were nose to nose, it wasn’t until Shingen made some flirty comment that the two of you instantly jumped away from each other, both blushing profusely. When you were with Yuki, your guard had dropped momentarily, but it was now straight back up, and your shy reserved demeanour returned.

Soon you were surrounded by yet another group of men, and these lot really did look like a mixed bag, you had the cold ice price, the flirty hunk, the extravagant artist, the forest ranger and then someone whom you instantly recognised, a nerdy-looking scientist. Just as your eyes met his, you could see that he, too, had recognised you. He pulled you aside and told you what had happened and that you had been flung back into the past. You were shook. Never in a million years did you think this was possible yet here you were surrounded by some of the worlds greatest warlords, 500 years in the past. Just then, the ice prince glared at you, and after seeing your frightened expression, his softened a bit, and he asked you if you would like to come and stay with them. This, of course, caused the whole group to gasp in surprise.

You made your way back to Kasugayama Castle, riding with the feared God of war. Once you returned you were named princess of the Uesugi clan and Kenshin basically adopted you as his little sister. Even though you were a princess, and you didn’t have to lift a finger, you didn’t want to feel indebted or take advantage of the warlord's kindness. So you started helping out wherever you could. You worked incredibly hard for the castle and its people, and soon you were loved by all the warlords and maids. Everyone adored your kind, courteous, polite manner of speaking, and you would basically get on well with everyone. There was one person in particular that you got on very well with, and that was Kasugayama’s blushy boy himself, Yuki. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but when you were with him you felt at ease, and you were yourself

Yukimura would often make aloof and blunt comments toward you, which would spark, the two of you to playfully bicker for hours and hours. Like one time you were running in the halls to deliver an important message to Kenshin when you almost ran straight into Yuki. After you had delivered the letter, Yuki caught up to you on his way to his next meeting, “Careful where you run wild boar, you almost knocked me over.” “You calling me a boar is rich considering we both know, who is the most stubborn between the two of us is, and just so there is no confusion, that would be you, wild boarman.” This little light bickering and banter was an everyday occurrence with you two, as one of you always had some goofy, sarcastic remark or comeback to strike up conversation with the other.

Yuki had come to love your awkward, dorky personality, and the two of you would often talk about the most RANDOM topics. He also really liked your competitive side, as you would often give him a run for his money. The two of you are always making a competition out of everything. “Hey race you to the tea house, the loser has to pay!” Yuki would always smile his boyish smile at you, whenever you would challenge him to a contest. “Oh, it’s on dummy, hope you are ready to pay for tea and lunch, cause there is no way I’m going to lose.”

And of course, he lost…. “Next time I’ll definitely win,” he would always say with the biggest grin and a slight blush. But of course, racing each other wasn’t the only thing the two of you cuties did together, after Yukimura found out that you loved playing sport, he taught you some self-defence/fighting moves. This, of course, would spark a wrestling/fighting contest between the two of you, which always ended in laughs. As just before Yuki would proclaim your defeat, you would bring out your secret weapon, which was the knowledge that this blushy boy is incredibly ticklish. And so a match would start anew.

It was a good thing that you are a mom friend because Yuki had a bad habit of pushing himself too hard for too long. He wanted nothing more than to get stronger so he could return back to his home town one day with Shingen. Whenever you would see him start to look dreary and tired, you being the classic mom friend that you are, would take him by the hand and lead him to your favourite spot in the garden. You would then sit down and pull him to sit down beside you, and before he even knows what's going on, you will guide his head to rest on your lap. He will legit be as red as a beet, causing you to chuckle at the sight of even the tips of his ears staining red in embarrassment. You will simply smile down at him and start lecturing him about needing to look after his health and needing to take breaks more often. You can't help but flick his forehead midway through the scolding session, as he rolls his eye and says; “yes mom.” 

One day, while you were giving this boy yet another lecture about overworking himself, and pulling your fingers through his hair. Yukimura can't help but be lulled to sleep by the soothing feeling of your fingers gently massaging his scalp and at your gentle voice laced with love and concern for him.

The two of you sat like that for a while, you stared down at the handsome man's face, and your fingers drifted by their own accord from his hair, to caress the lines of his face. You thought Yukimura was fast asleep, “I really love you, you know that boar, man.”

You were startled when all of a sudden, he moved his hand to cover yours, as he twined his fingers with yours and he looked up into your beautiful eyes, “I l-love you to dummy.” He then placed his other hand at the back of your neck and pulled you down to meet in a kiss. Shingen who had been out on the balcony had seen the whole scene unfold and he was honestly so happy that his little vassal had finally found someone to take care of him. Plus the two of you had been dancing around each other for a while now especially, whenever anyone would mention that the two of you made a cute couple.

Cause Yukimura knows that you love music, he will often take you to a late-night festival, where the two of you will sit under the stars together and listen to some good music. When the festival is over, the two of you would leisurely walk home hand in hand just making the funniest jokes and worst puns. It is definitely not uncommon for the two of you to stay up late into the night just chatting and sipping on tea. 

Yuki's favourite weather like yours is rainy, stormy days, even more so, now that he has finally found a lover to spend those days with. Whenever there is a storm or a light drizzle outside the two of you would cuddle up together in the fluffiest blankie and read. Sometimes it would be a book about the most random of topics, other times Yukimura would insist your read to him a piece of your newest writing. Sometimes the two of you would just be snuggled together each doing their own thing, you would read, and he would catch up on his reports.

Because you are a princess, you are always expected to attend every war council so that you could stay well informed about the happenings of the castle. You always found these affairs to be quite boring so you would sit and doodle. Once Kenshin saw how beautiful your little doodles were, he made sure to get you the best drawing pencils and papers to keep you entertained during councils. He especially loves the drawing you made of his little bunnies. This always made Yuki a little jealous, but soon that melted away as you would make him a drawing of his wolf pup. A drawing which he would proudly displays in his room for all to see.

Yuki really loves that you are more of a listener than a talker when it comes to giving out advice. He is often burdened with so much stress and responsibility that all he wants to do is just, be heard. He knows he can't go to Sasuke or Shingen cause they never really listen, just start to shoot off the most random of advice. But not you, you’re always there to lend him a shoulder to lean on and listen, as he unpacks his problems. Gently holding his hand and giving it a few squeezes during his story to indicate that you are still listening and there for him. After he is done unpacking his problems, he actually quickly finds his own solution. Just simply having talked to you was enough for him to see the problem more clearly. Of course, don’t fret cause this boy will do the exact same for you. 

Whenever you are feeling down, he will pull you into his arms and let you vent out all your problems, quietly listening while kissing your temples to remind you that he is always there for you

The two of you honestly make the cutest couple, always joking and goofing around, whether it’s making horrible puns or flinging sarcastic comments at each other, it’s always a good time. When the two of you are together, there is always some or other competition or challenge underway. But don’t stress as the two of you also share plenty of quiet moment, where you can just simply relax and enjoy the presence and company of each other

Other potential matches……………. Mitsuhide

I hope you enjoyed this dear and I hope you have the best day! 🌻❤���

[mikenewtonhateblog]

My oc’s aka too long of a gd post

The “BL” Crew (does not stand for boys love I’m just a moron who made that abbreviation before knowing what it stands for). My main crew and main series, a lot is a big WIP right now as I’m slowly redoing the first book and all the lore. Why? I love torture. Book is fantasy type but I won’t specify what.

Lacie, the protagonist. God tier idiot, bisexual bipolar depressed MESS, insomniac, former theater kid, doesn’t know what she wants out of life but currently it is not This(plot of book). Hot headed, impulsive, crude, rude, Mommy IssuesTM, would rather be taking a nap right now, rules are made to be broken, absolutely fucking FERAL, more bags under her eyes than the airport lost and found. 5’5, 130lbs, Aries, age 18, white as shit like literally the whitest human you have ever seen, strawberry blonde hair in a 2011 Hayley Willaims haircut with long bangs, the darkest brown eyes you’ve ever seen that stare directly into your soul. Lanky, no curves, body of a 12 year old boy but works out so she can and will kick your ass and thats a threat. Not human?

Josh. Soft boy, smart, Lacie’s cousin and only friend for like the first 18 years of her life, autistic anxious mess who’s special interest is anchient egyptian history, is in honors classes, despises math, passes out when his girlfriend looks too cute, just needs a hug. Can eat a whole carton of easy mac if left alone, whole wardobe is the same outfit just different colors/hoodies, sensory issues, seriously can someone give this guy a hug. 5’9, 150lbs, Pisces, age 18, mixed (half whatever flavor of white Lacie’s family is [they don’t even know its just some scandanavian shit and irish], and half mexican on his mom’s side), medium olive skin with freckles and moles, dark chocolate brown hair that’s a bit of a 2009 Beiber cut, warm brown eyes, not beefy, a lil thicc and self concious about it but squishy boys are GOOD. Gets bit by a werewolf so now he is one his mood on it is “thats a lot to unpack but let’s just throw the whole suitcase away”.

Zander. There is not one braincell in this man, himbo KING, pansexual dumbass with undiagnosed ADHD, no impulse control, head empty and full at the same time, PTSD, his fashion sense should be an actual crime, gets in fights to feel something, basic requirements for him to be attracted to you: kick his ass. Drinks his respect women juice, sees a folding table and must immediately launch himself on it, chaotic, cannot drive a car and will not, food aggression and eats enough for 3 people but never gains weight which is ILLEGAL, him and Lacie may be a couple.....but in this house we stan slow burn, he talks in caps and every sentence either ends with a question mark or exclaimation point, likes romcoms. 6’2, 190lbs, Sagittarius, age 19, austrailian roots and has the accent but is from [REDACTED FOR STORY REASONS], white, dorito shaped with long legs, blueish black hair that’s long and messy, dark navy eyes that match his hair, bigass neck scar from [REDACTED]. Not human

Peter. Gay dad friend who is TIRED of having to be in charge of a bunch of teenagers, only one with full functioning braincells, lowkey a genius who loves engineering, mixes magical technology with human technology because he likes to play god, is he ever sober? No one knows, will kill for a bottle of single malt, his fashion sense? Tastefully expensive suits perfectly tailored. Likes building his own weapons that no one else knows how to even use, generally non-threatening but can get scary if needed. 6’4, 140lbs string bean man, Scorpio, age 179 but looks early 30s, I know I said Lacie is the whitest human but he’s even paler like a literal sheet of paper with scandanavian roots/ancestors were vikings or some shit, blonde hair styled like 2013 Brendon Urie lmfao, light crystal blue eyes. He’s a vampire and was born one.

Danielle. Tiny, sweet, queen of girls supporting girls, comments on all her friends instagram posts with 20 emojis, LOVES fashion and has a wardrobe that would make anyone jealous, oozes feminine energy, only child and parents are in love still, gets exactly 8 hours of sleep each night and wakes up looking like a disney princess. Just because she is small and cute doesn’t mean you should underestimate her she WILL fuck your shit up. Quiet when angey which is terrifying. Josh is her bf and she loves him so much but also loves teashing the shit out of him. Legally cannot cuss, polite, used her high heels as a weapon once, speaks like 5 languages because studying them is her hobby, gardens, hugs everyone. 5’0, 110, Taurus, age 18, mixed (half french-american, half Korean-american), glowy skin always, PETITE frame aka the friend everyone can pick up when they hug, long past her waist curly brown hair, bright green eyes. She’s not fully human as she has fae blood in her and this gives her the ability to talk to and control plants. Flower crowns for everyone

Becca. Theater kid who would die to sing in Wicked and has the vocal range to do so, cannot wait to graduate and go to her dream college which she got into and a scholarship, closeted lesbian bc her whole giant family is extremely catholic and she feels like not dealing with it, “no boys allowed in bedroom” rule is her favorite joke, chill, middle child of 5 siblings and just wants some peace and quiet for ONCE. Her fashion sense is “I’m dropping subtle hints I’m gay but only to other gays”, has a black belt and took self defense classes. 5’6, 145lbs, Virgo, age 18, Latina (cuban and mexican mix), darker brown skin with light freckles over her nose, athletic build, eyebrows on POINT, bright caramel eyes, short light brown hair cut in a bob, has a tiny nose stud, always wears a blue friendship bracelet her gf made her. Human

Anika. Calling her a bitch/slut is a compliment, bisexual, a bit of a mean girl but she grows out of it give her time!!! Is always Too Much, the horny friend, favorite color is red so thats almost all of her outfits, loves to show off her body as much as she can because she’s hot and knows it and thrives in her own confidence. Her mom is literally like Regina George’s mom from Mean Girls but married a rich man 20 years older than her, Anika doesn’t know her bio dad but thats fine neither does her mom and her step dad is nice and does his best to be a dad. Becca’s gf, always hanging out at her home so Becca can get some quiet because Anika’s an only child and has a pool. 5’9, 135lbs, Gemini, age 18, white, long layered dark reddish brown hair, teal-blue eyes, swimmers body type (I normally do not mention bust size but she would want the internet to know she was blessed with big bahoogles so there you go), can sprint in heels. Half mermaid (boy was that a surprise considering her mom doesn’t know who her father is LOL)

Rex. Nb uses they/them he/him pronouns but honestly will respond to any, goth lite, only attracted to men and ace, can read minds so knows all your secrets, mischevious little shit, great friends with Zander and enjoys his dumbass thoughts and that he’s basically a human version of Jackass, wears too many rings, goth boots for kicking and fashion babey, always has the freshest memes and will not hesitate to roast in the group chat, hangs with the girls most of the time. Chaos god who loves making art, be gay do crime, skateboard and spraypaint. 5’8”, 165lbs, Leo, age 18, Native American, masculine frame, dark brown skin, blue eyes, firetruck red shoulder length hair that’s usually in a ponytail, knock-off gucci sunglasses just for judging their friends. Has magic in their blood so not entirely human and can cast spells and shit (don’t roast me its a wip and I’m doing my research)

Sam. Boho goddess, aromantic, makeup and nails are always instagram worthy, quiet and stoic type but losens up around close friends, Rex is her best friend, has some trauma and doesn’t want to talk about it, emotionally numbed out a bit and wants to purely vibe. Has seen some of the worst parts of humanity and wishes she hadn’t, finds no point in being bitter or resentful though because that won’t change anything, loves cats and once she moves out shes adopting one or three. Has wine aunt energy. 5’4, 200lbs PLUS SIZE QUEEN, Scorpio, age 18, Filipino (her parents are immigrants fun fact!), really olive skin sometimes has a grey/green tinge to it, dark brown almost black shoulder length hair, gold-hazel eyes. Sam’s the victim of a family curse that requires her to consume human hearts to survive, she can transform into a pretty scary looking being and uses this curse to hunt down pedoph*les, r*pists, murderers, and abusers. The less often she feeds the less human she looks, hence the constant grey/green tinge to her skin. 

Andy. Baby of the group, must be protected at all costs, 100% didn’t sign up to be in a friendgroup of 90% monsters but highkey loves it, trans, bi, anxiety MAXED, just wants to draw comics and cosplay spiderman, has to babysit his two younger sisters a lot because his parents are....not great, and as a result now knows all the lines to Tangled and The Little Mermaid. Big nerd energy, has to draw on everything including homework, gets inspiration for comics from his friends, awkward and socially anxious, drinks way too much tea and will accidentally steal your pens. Fears include: crowds, thunder, tall angry men, tiny spaces. Just trying his best. 5’2, 100lbs BEANPOLE BOY, Leo, age 16, white (irish and scottish roots), freckles absolutely EVERYWHERE, orangey red hair thats in desperate need of a haircut, chocolate brown eyes, braces, chronic nail biter. Human and kinda wishes he wasn’t.

That’s it for now if you read all this bless u thank u here is my whole heart. Please no discourse, literally these are fictional people I’ll never publish the books they go to.

[ainsleymorgan]

『MARILYN LIMA ❙ DEMIGIRL』 ⟿ looks like AINSLEY MORGAN is here for HER SOPHOMORE year as a COMPUTER SCIENCE student. SHE is 20 years old & known to be ORGANIZED, BENEVOLENT, INDECISIVE & OBSTINATE. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ lexi. 23. pst. she/hers. 

we’re back at it again folks! this gal has been bopping around my head for a good long while now - i apologize if this is an incoherent mess. give this a little like and i’ll slide into ur dm’s to plot smth ok ily

stats

— background. (death tw, grief tw, cancer tw)

The Morgans have a long, complicated history. Margaret and Callum meet near the end of college (she’s studying English, he lives in town) and fall rapidly in love. The only problem? Margaret’s engaged to her high school sweetheart. When Margaret ends up pregnant, she pretends like it’s her fiancee’s and has a shotgun wedding. Callum goes off to join the army and pretend like his heart wasn’t just shattered in two.

Years pass - Margaret gets her PhD in English and has another kid (this time with her actual husband). Callum leaves the army, gets married too (and widowed a few years later), has some kids of his own. But then they run into each other at a bar in a city far away from the last one they were in together, and it’s like nothing ever changed.

The two get married almost immediately after the divorce papers are signed, and have two more kids almost immediately after that. Margaret becomes an English professor, and Callum’s content with taking care of the gaggle of children their blended family has produced. 

Five years after the last set of kids, Ainsley and her brother Tristan are born. They’re just as unplanned as their eldest sister was, but no less loved. 

They quickly become the apple of the entire family’s eye, doted upon by their army of older siblings. The twins are late to walking, so they get taken to the pediatrician, who says that they’re so used to being carried everywhere by their family that they haven’t felt the need to walk yet. They’re set down more often, and quickly catch up to be able to run after their brothers and sisters.

Ainsley and Tristan are attached at the hip. Despite the attention from the rest of their family, the two maintain that specific bond only twins can. They make up a language that only they can understand, and throw tantrums whenever they’re out of eyesight of each other. 

They’re happy kids, bright and bubbly. And loud. The house is always filled with screams and laughter. It’s an idealistic life, a perfect family.

DEATH TW // There’s an accident when the twins are nearly five. Nobody knows what happened - they swear they were watching the kids splashing in the lake - but suddenly, Tristan’s gone. His body is found in the water later that day. // END TW

GRIEF TW // Ainsley’s too young to understand what’s going on when they bury him. She gets quiet and shy, a once bubbly little girl drawing in on herself. All she knows is that her best friend is gone, and now there’s nobody to actually talk to.

They move soon after, to a town called Lovell, when Margaret gets a job at the local university. It’s something the family needs, after Tristan, and they hope that the change will help Ainsley open back up again.

She doesn’t, not for a while. She’s thrust into kindergarten, in a new town without her twin there to keep her grounded. Her teachers worry about her social skills - she seems to prefer painting or doodling to playing on the playground with her classmates. But slowly, surely, she starts opening up again as Lovell becomes home. // END TW

The Morgans decide that they like Lovell, and that they’re going to stay. They buy a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, with big trees for the kids to climb on. Ainsley breaks her leg falling out of one when she’s seven (she still has the scar on her knee from where a branch snagged). 

As the kids get older and start moving out of the house, Callum decides he needs a project. He’s always loved cooking and restaurants. So he decides to buy one. Calls it the Main Street Diner (not very creative, but it tells you right where it is!), and starts really integrating himself into the Lovell community.

Ainsley spends nearly every afternoon there, sitting at the corner of the counter after school. Her siblings are old enough to babysit, but they’ve hit their moody teenage phase, and Ainsley wants nothing to do with it. Her mom’s either teaching or grading papers or reading, and that’s boring to a nine-year-old. So diner it is.

She spends most of her time at the counter drawing or painting. Each one is proudly displayed on the wall, marking her progress over time. 

Sometimes she helps with little tasks, like sorting silverware or wiping down tables. Eventually, when she hits high school, she graduates to waiting tables to make some money of her own.

When it comes time to think about college, Ainsley decides she wants to go as far away from Lovell as possible. She knows everything and everyone in town - even some of the Radcliffe students who frequent the diner. Ainsley wants something new and interesting. 

She looks at schools in California, eventually gets accepted to UCLA. Ainsley packs her bags and flies across the country. She learns to miss the comforts of home, but enjoys the independence being on the other side of the continent gives her.

CANCER TW // Halfway through her first year at UCLA, Ainsley gets a call from her mom. Dad’s sick, she says. Cancer. 

Ainsley drops everything and moves back home. She takes a semester off of school to help take care of her dad while her mom continues teaching. He gets better, goes into remission, but there’s still the lingering fear that it’ll come back, that it’ll be worse, that she’ll lose him too. // CANCER TW

So she decides to transfer to Radcliffe. It’s local, in case anything happens, but she can still live in the dorms to keep some semblance of independence. And she gets to go for essentially free. She starts working at the diner again, to keep an eye on her dad, though she claims it’s just to make money. It’s a good set-up, for now.

— personality.

Ainsley is super artistic. Literally constantly drawing or writing or doing something creative. There’s usually paint somewhere on her clothes, regardless of how new the clothing is.

Also has this Thing against making her hobby her career, which is why she’s a computer sciences major rather than an arts major. She grew up watching her mom and dad turn their passions into their jobs, which seemed stressful and like it took some of the fun out of it. So she said no thanks.

She still really enjoys computers and coding - mainly web design. Hopes to become a full-time web designer after college, while throwing in some of the graphic design portions of web designing to sprinkle some of the artsy aspects of her personality.

Despite being a computer sciences major and pretty good with technology, she definitely prefers going analog in most of her life. Writes everything down rather than typing it into her phone or laptop, and goes through a million journals (also owns a million more blank ones).

This bitch definitely bullet journals.

Is a fairly organized person, but her room? An absolute mess. Ainsley says it’s an aesthetic mess (it’s not).

The only part she takes care of is the collection of plants on her windowsill. One of her notebooks is dedicated to their care schedule, and notes on how they’re doing.

Her bag is basically Mary Poppins’ tote, but make it a beat-up Fjallraven she bought during a 50% off sale three years ago. Has literally anything you could ever need in it. Paper, pens, snacks, water, first aid kit, you name it. Need some superglue or a needle and thread? Ask Ainsley.

Is simultaneously super indecisive and super stubborn. Will take a thousand years to decide on something, but once she’s picked it, she’s stuck on it. 

Will die on any hill she feels remotely attached to.

That being said, she’s not a super aggressive person. Is actually pretty calm, still quieter than she was before Tristan. The human equivalent of a warm blanket.

Also super gay. So so gay. 

(But she’s never been with a girl bc she’s got issues w feeling worthy of romantic attention!! Or any attention!!)

This bitch needs to go to therapy.

— wanted connections.

aka the part im so bad at

Where my Lovell locals at?

Friends - pls give this cinnamon roll ppl to fawn over she loves her friends !!

Enemies - idk if she’d think of them as an enemy but let ppl be mean to her so she can be kind of mean back

Crushes - either on her or ppl for her to crush on !! she will pine until the day she dies !!

idk what else im bad at this just love me and love Ainsley

[itskimtaehyung]

Blindspot

Who is he? Who is the man with no eyes?

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader (non romantic)

Genre: Supernatural Horror, Drama

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary:  Everywhere you turn, he’s there, just barely on the edge of your vision. No one else seems to see him. He outside on the street, in your house, in your room. Yet, no matter how hard you try, you’re unable to look at him directly.

Warnings: mentions of death and blood

A/N: if y’all dont already think i’m the worst procrastinator ever i’ll have you know that i started this fic in august of 2018 and meant to finish it for halloween of 2018 but i couldn’t even finish it in time for halloween of 2019 bc im trash

Two children, a boy and a girl, played along the rocks at the waterfront. It was overcast today, as it usually was, and a dense fog rolled over the bay toward the shore. They scuttled along, chasing crabs, attempting to grab the tiny, orange critters as they disappeared into the water. Their mother watched from a bench a few feet away. 

“Be careful, loves. We can’t afford to lose anymore people here.”

The children nodded understandingly and proceeded with their activity. That is, when the eldest, the sister, spotted something strange amongst the jagged rocks that jutted out from the mellow tides. 

“Mommy! What’s that?”

The mother stood up from the bench and calmly strolled over to her daughter. She peered down at the rocks, and saw the strange figure that was jammed between them. 

The mother let out a sigh. “That’s Stephanie. Do you remember her? She baked brownies for the bake sale last month.”

The son nodded. “I thought she went missing last week.”

“She did. This is where the people who go missing sometimes end up. Come on, children.” She held out both her hands and each child took one. “You two walk on home while I go tell Sheriff Strazzeri.”

Emerald Bay was too small for a proper sheriff’s department, or a crime scene investigation unit. It was just Sheriff Strazzeri, passionate about the law, and his son, Will, who attended the town’s subpar, probably not accredited by any other town’s standards, medical school. Together they investigated all the weird things that happen in this tiny town.  

People always say there’s nothing to do in Emerald Bay. They’re pretty much right. It’s a small coastal town, with a population of about four hundred and declining. On the east side of Emerald Bay is the Marina, lined with abandoned boats that smell of rotting fish and are covered with ancient, dried-up barnacles. On the west side is your ticket out: a dirt road that leads into the forest, a thick, dense barrier of emerald painted evergreens. That’s where the town gets its name. And past the forest is the farmland, and past the farmland is the big city. So why don’t people leave Emerald Bay? Why don’t they abandon it completely?

The answer? No one ever makes it out of the forest alive. 

Everytime someone packs their bags and tries to leave Emerald Bay, something prevents them from truly leaving. You remember when you were young, maybe three or four years old, your neighbor, Ben, decided he had enough of the monotony of this town, and got in his car and started driving. You thought he was off to a bigger and better life, somewhere out in the big city, but three days later, they found his car broken down on the road in the forest, with his dead body rotting inside. 

A few years before that, a woman who had been widowed, thought it was too difficult living in the house she had shared with her husband. She didn’t even take her things. She just started walking. She wandered into the forest, and a few days later, her body was found floating in between the boats at the Marina. In the pocket of her yellow raincoat was a piece of paper, surprisingly undamaged. On it was a drawing, done in what appeared to be blood. It looked like it was drawn by a toddler, simple and cartoonish. It was of a man, or rather a stick figure, with something over his eyes. Below the drawing were two words: SAVE ME. 

This has been going on for as long as anyone can remember. Residents have tried to explain this strange phenomenon, sometimes with outlandish theories. But the most common theory, and what you think is the most plausible one, sprang from the drawing found in the widow’s pocket.

Many think that she was trying to warn us. That she drew it in a haste before she died. Many think that there is a man in the forest. One that wears a piece of cloth over his eyes. One that takes the lives of anyone who wanders into his home.

Supposedly he lives in the forest alone. Deep into the dark woods, making himself known only at night. His skin and his hair are an ashy gray, and he is said to glow under a full moon. But the most distinguishing thing about him is he always wears a black blindfold. Why? Because he is blind. Because he is the man with no eyes. 

You have always been interested in this kind of stuff. The spooky, the scary, the unsettling. Slenderman theories completely consumed you in grade school. So did werewolves, ghosts, and all things supernatural. You’ve always managed to prove them all as myths. Except this one.

You had almost forgotten about the man in the forest until last week. 

Mark was a well beloved citizen of Emerald Bay. You had been in school with him your whole life. He was so incredibly smart and gifted. Everyone thought he would become mayor one day or something. That is, until a couple of weeks ago, when he went missing.

His family said he went to buy milk from the grocery store and he never returned. All of Emerald Bay were on the lookout, although there aren’t very many places to hide in such a small town. He had no reason to run away either. His parents were very loving, and his friends were supportive. No one ever imagined that he would do such a thing. 

A week after Mark went missing, his body is found at the edge of the forest. There’s no sign of injury, and he wasn’t gone long enough to die from thirst or starvation. Will can’t find anything wrong with him. He can’t even determine when Mark had died.

As an ordinary citizen, you don’t have access to many of the details surrounding Mark’s death. All the information you get is from what they print in the local newspaper, and you know those things never tell the whole story. You began volunteering at the local library a few months back, hoping to gain more access to the towns archives, but there are so many newspapers and journals that it quickly became overwhelming, and you put a pause on poring through them. However, being the urban legend enthusiast you are, you want to know more, and the only way to get information is to dig it up yourself.

That’s why you waited until tonight, the night of the first full moon since they discovered Mark’s body. You equip yourself with a flashlight, pepper spray, and a sledge hammer (you know, just in case). You’ve never hunted this kind of creature before, so you don’t know what kind of equipment you would need. It’s stupid to go out into the forest alone, especially on the night of a full moon, but you don’t know anyone stupid enough to agree to go with you. 

The streets are dead, as they are every night, when you pull your car up to the edge of the forest. You can see the full moon peeking through the branches of the trees, round and luminous.

You must go on foot from here. The roads in the forest are bumpy and jagged from the tree roots breaking through the asphalt. You would bust a tire within seconds of entering. 

The chilly sea breeze nips at your skin when you exit your car. You pop open your trunk and grab your hunting supplies: An EMF meter you built yourself, your sledge hammer for defense, holy water blessed by Reverend Kang, some dried sage, and a wooden stake because vampires aren’t real but you never know, right?

You close the trunk and step away from your car. The breeze seems to get stronger as you walk toward the forest, almost as if it’s pulling you into it. You let it lure you in amongst the trees. You follow it until you can’t see your car behind you anymore, and still you continue on. You make your way around a large tree and then stop dead in your tracks. In front of you is a figure, glowing so brightly that you can’t discern any actual shapes. You just know that it is vaguely human. 

“Y/N.” The sound echoes in your ears. The voice is melodic, calming, unlike anything you’ve heard before.

You struggle to catch your breath. “H-how do you know my name?”

“I know everything.” The figure lifts its hand up and beckons you. “Come closer.”

You can feel your limbs wanting to move on their own. You try to resist it and stand your ground. You don’t want to go near him. You want to stay a safe distance away, but he’s too strong, and he pulls you closer to him. Soon, the two of you are face to face, and you can make out his features. His hair glows silver, and his icy white skin contrasts starkly with the black blindfold that covers his eyes. He radiates a strange energy, one that you’ve never experienced before. It’s cold, yet warm at the same time. Goosebumps prickle on your skin, yet your body feels feverish. Your chest feels tight as you struggle to fill your lungs with air. 

“W-what are you?”

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I am ancient. I am the only one of my kind, therefore I don’t have a name. But you may call me Jimin.” 

“Jimin,” you mutter in awe. You have so many questions for this strange creature. You never thought you’d actually find him, and now that you have, you must make the most of it. “There are so many things I want to know. Why do you take people? Why do you kill the residents of Emerald Bay?”

“I simply call to them. It is their choice whether they answer or not.”

“Are you calling me to right now?”

“Yes.” Jimin furrows his brows in confusion. “But you seem to be resisting my charm.”

“I’m not here to be your next victim.”

“Then why are you here?”

“LIke I said before. To find out why you take people, why you kill them.”

“But that’s not the only reason. The people who come here are unhappy. They want more from Emerald Bay. No one wanders into the forest, no matter how curious, unless they don’t mind being taken.”

“That’s not true,” you refute. 

“Isn’t it? Think about everyone who has wandered in here. Think about your own self.”

You open your mouth to speak, to tell him he’s wrong. But with the blink of an eye he’s gone.

You drive home dejectedly. Yes, you found Jimin, but now you have more questions than answers. What is he? Why does he kill people? How does he do it? 

You get farther and farther away from the forest. It’s nearly morning and the AM fog is starting to roll in from the ocean, coating the town in a thick blanket of gray. It’s so thick, you can barely see the block ahead of you. Your eyes momentarily wander away from the road to check your mirrors. Your tires screech as you suddenly slam on the brakes. You rub your eyes and blink. You could have sworn you just saw something in your back seat. And you’re almost positive that something was Jimin. But as you glance back up at your rear view, there’s no one there. It’s just your empty back seat and the eerie fog behind you. 

You tell yourself that you’re just seeing things. You didn’t get any sleep last night and you’re starting to hallucinate. 

When you get home, you’re so exhausted that you immediately collapse onto your bed and fall asleep. If you dream that night, you don’t remember any of them.

You sleep until you can’t anymore, and you lay in bed until your body aches. It screams at you to get up, and so you do, making your way to the bathroom to wash your face. 

You splash the cool water over your skin, rinsing off the cleanser that still clings to the area around your eyes. Afterward, you use a towel to pat your skin dry and take a look in the mirror. You freeze and nearly drop the towel. Over your shoulder, you can see Jimin standing, watching but not watching. 

You whip around but there’s nothing there. When you look back in the mirror, he’s nowhere to be seen. You got plenty of sleep this morning, so there’s no reason for you to be seeing things. But what else could possibly explain this?

Something doesn’t feel right. 

As hard as you try, you can’t bring your eyes to open. You can sense it. You can feel something in your room. You sense an unmistakable presence at the foot of your bed. It feels, evil, demonic, malevolent. 

You gasp for air, but the blankets seem to suffocate you. You want to push them off so you can breathe, but you’re paralyzed. Your heart races as you try to will yourself to open your eyes, to take a deep breath, anything. 

As quick as it comes, the feeling is gone. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You wiggle your toes to see if you can move again, but you’re too scared to open your eyes. Instead, you bury yourself deeper beneath your covers and try to fall asleep, but you can’t shake the feeling that something truly evil was just in your room. 

When you finally succumb to slumber, you dream of the forest that night. 

You’re running. The brisk air and the smell of pine nip at your nostrils. Your lungs burn, and no matter how hard you push yourself, you can’t seem to move faster than a crawl. You feel something chasing you, and you’re trying to get away. You’re trying to get back to the main road where you’ve parked your car, but the only thing around you is endless forest. Your heart feels as if it’s going to explode. 

Faster, faster, you tell yourself. But it’s no use. You can’t go any faster. 

You run and run. You don’t see the fallen branch on the ground until your foot catches on it, and you hurdle forward, putting your hands out to break the fall. 

But you never hit the ground, because the panic jolts you awake. 

This time you’re able to open your eyes, and it’s daylight out. Your clock says 7:03, twelve minutes before the alarm is supposed to go off and you have to get ready for school. 

When you sit up your brain pounds with a massive migraine that leaves you a bit nauseous. You wash your face in the sink like you do every morning, but today, you don’t see Jimin in the reflection with you. You bend over to rinse the cleanser off your face, and when you stand back up straight, you’re hit with a sudden wave a dizziness. Bile makes its way up your throat and you heave violently into the sink until it’s filled with thick, dark blood. 

When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you see your mouth covered in red. You stumble back as a high pitched scream rings through your ears. 

Your mom rushes up the stairs and sticks her head in to the bathroom. “Is everything alright? Why did you scream?” 

You turn to face her. Can’t she see that your mouth is covered in blood? She’s not looking at you in horror, her concerned expression does not waver. When you glance back in the mirror, there’s no blood to be seen, and the sink is spotless as well. 

“Ye-yeah, Mom. I just…” you wrack your brain for an excuse, “thought I saw a spider. That’s all. Everything is fine.” But you can still taste the metallic tang on your tongue. 

When she leaves you look back in the mirror and Jimin stands in her place. You can feel his gaze piercing through the cloth over his eyes. 

With the blink of an eye he’s gone. 

Your life goes on like this for days, weeks. Everywhere you turn, he’s there, just barely on the edge of your vision. No one else seems to see him. He outside on the street, in your house, in your room. Yet, no matter how hard you try, you’re unable to look at him directly. You can’t sleep. You can barely eat. You can’t focus. 

You can’t stand it anymore. You need answers.

The Emerald Bay Library is old, much like all the other buildings in Emerald Bay. It’s been here for longer than even the oldest residents of the town can remember. Its shelves are filled mostly with novels from the previous century. No one knows where they came from. They seemingly just manifested one day. It’s part of the mystery of how this town came into existence.

After your volunteer shift, you tell Head Librarian Kim that you’re going to stay behind to do some research for a class project. He hands you the keys and tells you to lock up when you’re done without questioning you any further. The second he leaves, you head a computer to search the town archives. You look for journals, newspaper articles, anything that documents strange and inexplicable happenings. You write down some promising pieces along with their call number and set off to find them. 

When you turn the corner to head down one of the aisles, you can feel him. You look around you, seeing if you can find him lurking in the shadows. You don’t see anything, but his presence, the heaviness in the air, this thick, eerie feeling, is unmistakable. 

Shrugging it off, you scan the bookshelf for what you’re looking for. You trace your fingers over it’s spine, almost as old as the town itself.

The Mystery and Lore of Emerald Bay

You pluck the book from the shelf. It’s dusty, like it hadn't been touched in years. 

You wander over to the tables that sit in between the shelves and take a seat. The book’s leathery cover feels dry beneath your fingers. Stiff and crusty. Dust flies up toward your face as you open the book and flip through its yellowed pages, filled with handwritten and hand drawn accounts of unexplained phenomena that once sent the town into panic. 

The first is the chupacabra, from the time the town’s cattle were disappearing. Turns out it was just a resident who didn’t want to pay for beef at the local butcher shop and decided to take and slaughter them for himself.

Then the Emerald Bay Monster, which was quickly determined to merely be driftwood.

Along with a few other things that have since been solved by modern science. Things like poisonous mushrooms, lightning bugs, and fairy rings.

Finally, at the end of the book, you find what you’re looking for. 

The Man with No Eyes

You skim through the introduction and description of Jimin, then some eye witness accounts written by former residents of Emerald Bay, long dead from old age or maybe even something more sinister. Then you find what you’re looking for. 

Not much is known about this mysterious man, only that he kills. Some say that he is both immortal and invulnerable, making him impervious to any harm one might attempt to inflict upon him. However, there are rumors from the ancient times about this man. There have been no records of whether anyone has actually attempted these methods, however, the creature still stands, which is a testament to something. If one truly wants to know, legend has it that the only way to kill him is–

You’re about to turn the page only to find that the subsequent pages have been ripped out, and on the back cover, written in what appears to be blood, are the words: 

YOU  CAN’T KILL ME

You drop the book as soon as you see it.

You want to yell at him, to scream. But it’s hard to talk to something you can’t face directly. “What do you want? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“I will be here until you give into me.”

You whip your head around, only to be met with dusty bookshelves and darkness. 

“Is this how you got the others to do it? By messing with their heads? Come out where I can see you!”

That’s when the bright, glowing figure steps out from the shadows and stands in front of you. His face is expressionless as he stares at you through the pitch black blindfold. 

“Do you think they just happened to go to the forest, just because you wanted to?” Jimin asks. “No, that was me, calling to them. And now I am calling to you. I have come to claim you. It is your time.”

You shake your head and stand your ground. 

“Come to me,” he beckons. 

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I will choose someone else,” he answers plainly. 

“I don’t want someone else to die but I don’t want to die either!”

”Then don’t. You don’t have to die. Just come to me.”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone? Why don’t you leave all of us alone?”

“It’s not in my nature. My species feeds off of your energy, your sadness.”

“And if we don’t give it to you, you die?”

Jimin chuckles. “No, you can’t kill me that easily. I simply get angrier, more violent until I get what I want.”

When he smiles, you can see his teeth. Sharp, jagged. There are rows of them, like shark teeth. Your heart pounds in your chest. You take a step back, but Jimin is quick to step toward you. You take another step, but the backs of your legs hit the table. You quickly dart your eyes around the room, searching for an exit route. There are tables, chairs, and shelves in the way. The main entrance is on the other side of the library, and Jimin stands in the way of the emergency door. 

“There’s nowhere for you to run, Y/N. Because as fast as you run, I will always be faster.” 

“What happens when I give in?”

“You’ll find out.”

He removes his blindfold to reveal the brightest, most blinding light you have ever seen.

The same woman watches as her children play along the shore. a light breeze blows a crumpled piece of paper to her feet. she picks it up and reads it, sighing. 

MISSING PERSON Y/N Along with a photo your mom took of you two years ago. 

You’ve been missing for over two months now. Usually the bodies turn up within a couple of weeks. No one was brave enough to go into the forest to look for you. Not even Officer Strazzeri. Not even your mother. 

Maybe you weren’t taken. Maybe you were a lucky one. Maybe you were actually able to escape Emerald Bay onto bigger and better things.