#samantha gash

[b0ng05]

Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader -

Grief pt. 2

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Word Count: 1432

Summary: A little blurb to add onto Grief pt.1. As Sam deals with her grief over her girlfriend's death. I honestly don't know.

TW: Death, sprinkles of violence

Also, Not Proofread💅

Master list/ Request list

Pt.1. Pt.2. Pt.3?

A ringing persisted in Sam’s ears as she stared at the mirror in front of her, behind her was a sight that haunted her. The gory hallucination of her deceased girlfriend. Her hand trembling as she turns the handle to the sink faucet, water spewing out into her awaiting open palm. She splashes her face with the cold water a few times, trying to clear her mind. After wiping her face dry with a washcloth, her eyes flutter shut, her hands gripping the edge of the porcelain sink to maintain balance. She lets out a shaky sigh, her chest heavy and tremoring.

“Get it together, Sam.” She mutters under her breath, desperately trying to ignore the flashbacks that flickered around her mind and the feeling of Y/n’s undead eyes watching her.

But with each bated breath, the memories became closer and clearer. Her breathing picking up and her grip on the sink tightening. “Stop,” She mumbles, her teeth grinding together. Her jaw clenching as the pain seers right back into her chest, as if the wounds were still fresh, as if it wasn't a year later.

“Sammy, it’ll be fine, I promise!” Y/n begs, her hand slightly dragging Sam in the direction of the convenience store near them.

Sam bit her bottom lip, her nerves were already heightened, they were out in the streets at night and stopping in a shady convenience store wasn’t exactly in Sam’s comfort zone. But, a guilt ate away at the back of her mind, not wanting to be an overprotective girlfriend that makes her girlfriend pee herself because she’s too scared to let her use a public bathroom at night. With the way her girlfriend was awkwardly walking around with an urgent look on her face had made her decision for her.

“Alright, just be quick, okay?” Sam mumbles, raising their held hands to kiss the back of Y/n’s.

“I promise, baby,” Y/n chirps, kissing Sam’s cheek softly.

Y/n smiles and guides Sam into the convenience store, turning around a few isles to find the needed facilities. Once it was in sight, Y/n released Sam’s hand from hers and headed into the bathroom, leaving Sam waiting outside the bathroom's main door. Sam leaned her back against the wall, pulling out her phone once she remembered she had put it in silent mode. Upon turning the screen on, a notification from her sister takes priority.

Tara: How was the movie?

Sam: I’ll be honest. I liked it.

Tara: Y/n and I told you that you would

Sam: I mean, I didn’t love how much Y/n stared at Regina but the movie was pretty good.

Tara: Can you really blame her? 🤨

Sam: … Ttyl.

Sam looked at the time displayed in the top left corner of her phone, her eyebrows furrowed as she realized it had been over 6 minutes of her texting Tara. Her heartbeat quickened, knowing Y/n would normally not take this long, especially when Sam communicated her concerns about safety. She turns and pushes the bathroom door open.

“Y/n?” Sam calls out, rushing to the first stall door and raising her fist to knock, only for it to push open revealing that it’s empty.

“Y/n, babe?!” Sam shouts, her heart racing in her chest and mind spiraling upon zero response.

She rushed to the next stall, raising her hand to knock, only for it to push open, no Y/n inside. Her eyes widen and she charges shoulder first into the next stall, breaking the lock completely.

Her hand reflexing towards her agape mouth in horror upon the sight. Before her, Y/n laid against the wall, blood gushing from her chest, a gashing hole in the cloth of her sweater. Above Y/n’s body, written in dripping crimson was a message.

‘Hi Samantha, - GF’

Her face paled, but her body reacted before her mind as she rushed over to her girlfriend as she yanked her own jacket off, putting pressure on the wound as her other hand reached for her phone. Muscle memory being used as her nimble fingers dialed for help. She placed her phone on the floor beside her on speaker as she guided her girlfriend to lay on the floor to make applying pressure easier.

“It’s gonna be okay, honey- you’re gonna be alright- I promise- okay?” Sam stutters out quickly, using her free hand to stroke Y/n hair out of her face.

As the operator answered and began to speak with Sam, her focus was on the call, but her eyes wandered around the room, heart aching too much to stare at Y/n as her blood drained. The sight of a small window in the corner of the room. Small, but big enough to fit through if you really, really tried. ‘That’s how he got in,’ was the first thought in her mind upon the discovery. Her thoughts are disregarded as the operator instructs her to continually check Y/n's pulse and breathing until the ambulance arrives.

As she waits for an ambulance to arrive, she presses soft loving kisses to her girlfriend’s forehead, whispering sweet nothings, and reassurances that she’s gonna be okay. Once the ambulance arrives, they had to break it to Sam that her girlfriend was dead. The blood loss was too severe to ever make it to the hospital.

Once the cops clear Sam to leave the crime scene, she’s already stuck in a dissociative haze. Not even remembering the walk to Tara’s apartment nor knocking on her sister’s door so late. But what she does remember is Tara and the look on her face when she sees Sam covered in blood. She remembers Tara basically cradling her in her arms on her couch while Sam told her what happened, and Tara freezing and paling upon the news.

“Come on, Sam.” She growls, her frustration and pain becoming overwhelming.

Her hands move to push her hair back out of her face. She takes a few deep breaths and opens her eyes. She glances up into the mirror, her dark brown eyes bloodshot with tears that she wasn’t aware she had begun to shed. Her shaky hands move to swipe the teartracks away, drying her face. The hallucination was gone, leaving her alone to the cold embrace of loneliness that took imaginary Y/n's place. She glanced down at her phone that rested on the edge of the sink, realizing it was around time for her to get ready for work. She gave herself one last glance and one more deep breath before leaving the bathroom to go get ready.

After getting ready for work, adorned in a shirt that was branded with the diner’s logo. As she closed the front door behind her, she turned around to ensure it was locked.

“Oh, hey Sam!” A deep voice called from the left of her.

Her head whips over to see Danny. It was her neighbor, and as of late, a constant nuisance. Ever since he heard about the passing of Sam’s girlfriend, he was always offering words of condolence and pity. It enraged her. Between him, her sister, and her sister’s friends, she was sick of hearing people trying to comfort a grief that they couldn’t begin to understand. Yes, they had lived through similar, but not that same exact scenario now that Sam had lost her girlfriend in. The guilt that ate her alive daily, the one that she constantly drank away. Sam still hadn’t forgiven herself for that night, and constantly hearing people tell her that it wasn’t her fault was understandably annoying.

“Danny,” She nods in acknowledgement before turning to walk towards the elevator.

“Wait- Sam,” Danny calls out, taking a few steps closer to the woman.

“What?” She scoffs, turning around to face him.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“How do you think I’m holding up?” She quips, “If that’s seriously all you stopped me for, goodbye,” She rolls her eyes, walking to the elevator and giving him a sarcastic smile as she pressed the call button for the elevator.

Upon the lift arriving at the floor, she quickly gets in and presses the button for the first floor. As the doors begin to slowly close, she doesn’t miss the dark look in Danny’s eyes as he watches her leave. He remained unmoving from his position, lips in a thin line. Like a predator stalking its prey. An all too familiar look that sent Sam’s skin crawling and hairs to stand on end. Maybe she was overreacting...

Author's note- Am I thinking about writing another part where Sam hunts down the new Ghostface(s) to avenge Y/n? Yeah. Do I have an epic punchline for it? Fuck yeah.

[melswifeasf]

Find my way back to you pt 3

previous chapter || next chapter || series page

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!OC

Summary: Sam comes back after five years.

Warnings: none.

notes: are you guys enjoying this series? should i keep writing?

the beeping sound of Tara’s heart monitor could be heard throughout the room. it had been a day since the incident and Tara was out of surgery. she had already made her statement an hour ago and ended up falling asleep again with all the drugs they were pumping her with. Estelle hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to her, she had been making her own statement and Judy had forced her to go home so she could take a shower and take off her uniform seeing as she hadn’t left the hospital since Tara was admitted.

honestly, Estelle didn’t have the energy to go home and do quite literally anything but Judy left her with no choice.

she didn’t take long, just took a quick shower and took an hour nap. it’s not like she could sleep, every time she closed her eyes she could only see that stupid mask.

Estelle had a redbull in hand as she walked into the room. she had her hair down, slight waves tumbling down her shoulders. she was out of uniform for the first time in hours, wearing a simple black shirt that was tucked into her blue jeans and a black bomber jacket on top. funny how Estelle would never wear such a thing in her teen years and yet now it’s most of what her wardrobe consisted of. it’s not like she had much time to have a life outside of work, not because she was forced to work extreme hours but because she had no idea how to live anymore.

pathetic how one single person can change an entire persons whole universe. even more pathetic considering they were only high school loves, the ones people always say don’t last. they were right.

at the sound of the door opening Tara looked toward it. her eyes landed on Estelle who had her drink in one hand and a bag of chips in another, a slight almost sad smile on her lips.

“i got your favorite” Estelle said as she held up the bag of sour cream and onion chips. Tara smiles softly in appreciation.

“thanks” she said lowly. Estelle approached her and handed her the chips which the teen girl gladly accepted.

there’s a beat of silence as Estelle takes a seat on the empty chair beside Tara’s bed. the younger girl placed the bag of chips on the table beside her whilst Estelle watched her intently. that night she hadnt realized all the injuries the girl was left with. she only remembers having seen the gash on her stomach and her leg being broken. now she knew about the hand and the many stabs that were spread around her body.

the idea alone made Estelle’s mouth run dry and tears begin to prick at her eyes but she quickly blinked them away.

“how’re you feeling? like, physically?” Estelle asked already knowing how the girl must be feeling emotionally, asking would be a waste of words.

Tara shrugged with a ghost of a smile on her lips, “i’m on all kind of drugs so i can’t really feel anything” she said honestly making Estelle chuckle.

“figures” she mutters as Tara breathes out a laugh. they fall silent once more as Estelle looks down at her fidgeting hands.

“i-..” she clears her throat softly, “i’m so sorry Tara” she said lowly her eyes not leaving her hands as tears burn in her eyes. she didn’t want to be the one crying, she had no right to, not after what Tara went through and yet here she was, not able to contain the burning tears beginning to fall.

Tara’s own eyes began to shine as she shook her head, “no” she whispered, “it’s not your fault”

“i should’ve been there sooner” Estelle said finally meeting her eyes, “i should’ve been closer. i should’ve installed a better security system. fuck, i should’ve shot them right through their fucking head” she shook her head and sniffled softly.

Tara held her healthy hand out making Estelle look at it, it took her a second before she placed her left hand on top of it. “it’s not your fault” Tara said firmly even with the tears in her eyes, “you never could’ve known this was going to happen. you did everything you could and i’m so thankful you were there” the young girl cried.

Estelle stood up from the chair and sat on the bed, wrapping her arms around Tara carefully so she wouldn’t accidentally hurt her.

Sam left five years ago, taking Estelle’s heart in the process but she left behind the girl who needed her most. the girl who had to learn how to make her own food, to get over her fear of the dark and learn how to make it seem like she wasn’t home alone practically everyday.

Estelle vowed to protect Tara like she wasn’t able to protect Elias.

Estelle had texted Amber per Tara’s requests to let her and the rest of her friends know that she was awake. Amber was the first to arrive followed by Wes then the twins. they all began to rant about how they couldn’t believe it was really happening and how glad they were Tara was okay as soon as they stepped into the room which cause Estelle to look at them in slight amusement.

she never really understood how they were all friends, they were all extremely different. she knew Amber and Tara were practically best friends - although Estelle always had her suspicions when it came to the two. Amber was always very possessive toward Tara and Tara never really seemed to mind that. but when it came to Wes and the twins, she didn’t really understand that part. she liked them all, maybe Wes a little less because he was just.. weird.

an hour later, after the group of friends got comfortable in their seats and did their best in trying to reassure the tara she was going to be fine, the door to their room opened, and Tara's sister appeared on the other side.

Estelles eyes snapped toward her as she leaned against the wall. her posture stiffened immediately and she pushed herself off of it slowly, her smile leaving her lips in a millisecond and instead is morphed into an emotionless expression.

her heart skipped, stopped and almost as if she had been revived it started hammering in her chest rapidly. she could feel her ears pulse and her hands begin to sweat as an extreme heat overtook her body. she could feel eyes on her but she didn’t look at anyone except the girl that just walked in.

she was hesitant to come in, only taking small steps as she looked around at the teens she used to take care of. her eyes stopped on Estelle longer than they had the rest but she tried to cover it up as her eyes locked with her sisters, the shyness went away and she crouched down beside her, softly setting her hand on Tara's shoulder and asking, "how are you feeling?"

if the sight of her pale sister who looked like she was in a state between life and death didn't hurt her enough, the words she threw at her were heart wrenching because of the doubtfulness in her voice, "you came."

Sam's escape from Woodsboro had lasted so long that it left her sister doubting she would even show up after she had been hurt, and the realization of that hurt Sam a lot because she never meant for the strand between her sister and herself to get to a point of no return.

"of course I came." Sam spoke softly, trying to lessen any doubts Tara might be feeling of how much she loved her. "this is my boyfriend, Richie." she said and as she turned to face her boyfriend her eyes met Estelle’s no longer than a second before she faced her boyfriend and stood up.

the man wasted no second in jumping into the conversation, “It's so nice to meet you. I'm so sorry if I'm intruding."

Tara too looked at Estelle before she ran her eyes across the man she had no intention of ever meeting, but knowing he was supposedly Sam's boyfriend, she decided to give him a polite smile and said, "nice to meet you, too."

everyone else in the room was looking between the exes and the tension was beginning to suffocate Estelle. every single muscle in her body felt like a rock and there was a huge knot in her throat that made it hard to swallow and the weight on her chest wasn’t helping her breathing either.

she wouldn’t left already if she knew it wouldn’t get everyone’s attention but she knew it would and Sam was near the door.

for the first time since the two had met, Estelle felt like an outsider in Sams life. hell, she felt like an outside in the room. she knew she didn’t belong and yet there she was.

Sam looked different, her hair had blonde highlights and she looked more mature. her face had defined itself and her body looked more mature now.

this wasn’t Sam Carpenter, the girl Estelle fell in love with. this was someone else and it felt like a fucking bullet to Estelle’s heart.

Sam had met every single one of the teens in the room a long time ago when she needed a few extra bucks and decided to babysit a few of them, so she went around the room and gave them a hug as she greeted them. she stayed near Wes longer than the others, softly thanking him for calling her and telling her about Tara's condition.

it was funny how Sam was trying her damn hardest to not meet Estelle’s eye or to not let her eyes even glance in her direction.

Estelle almost scoffed but keep it in, for Tara. she didn’t deserve her making a scene. neither did Sam. both for different reasons completely.

she moved back to where her boyfriend was standing and introduced them to him, "these are Chad and Mindy, the twins, and Wes. I used to babysit them all."

Wes was slightly embarrassed at that comment, or more so confused as to why she needed to add that last sentence in. "which is always how I like to be introduced." Wes pitched in sarcastically.

Amber chuckled which got Sam’s attention. she turned toward her, finally noticing her for the rust time and an uncomfortable smile formed on her lips. “and Amber, hey”

Amber nodded toward her, a matching smile on her lips “hi, nice to see you."

Richie turned to Amber and introduced himself,

"hi, I'm Richie."

"hi."

Estelle coughed awkwardly leaving Sam no choice but to meet her eye. Estelle felt her breathing labor as their eyes met. she expected to see a reflection of who Sam was once but she didn’t that, she couldn’t see the adoration, the love, the affection. it was as if Sam was looking at a stranger, a wannabe that had nothing to do in her life.

“Estelle. hey” she said making Richies head turn in her direction so fast it was as if he had been pinched.

“Sam” Estelle said simply. “well, i have to go. ill be outside Tara” the girl said looking at her. Tara sent her a smile along with a nod.

without another word toward either of the sisters Estelle began to walk toward the door where she looked at him with a slight scowl.

he didn’t say anything but Estelle didn’t need him to, she already knew what he was thinking. she laughed quietly with a shake of her head as she walked out of the room.

fuck them both.

there was an awkward beat of silence once Estelle left and the heavy weigh of her absence was lingering amongst them which Sam feel uncomfortable as she began to speak quickly hoping she’d fill the silence, "where's mom?

"she's stuck at a conference in London. she called me earlier." Tara filled her sister in, and it just seemed like she was trying to justify her mother for not being there.

"yeah, for all of ten minutes" Amber mumbled dryly but they all heard.

Tara's mother wasn't always occupied with her work, but after her divorce, she latched onto her job as a sense of security. at first it was minor, sometimes just a weekend or a couple of days but then it had gotten to the point where she left Tara home alone every few days for a long duration.

Tara didnt say anything and she looked sorrowful and Amber quickly said, "look, guys, Tara's really tired. maybe we should just give her some space."

it only took one glance at Tara for them to agree with Amber's statement. they each said their goodbye's and exited the room silently. Sam trailed behind them, thinking her sister might want the room to herself while she sleeps, but it turns out she was wrong.

"not you, Sam." Tara called after her. "I want you to stay."

a smile made its way on Sam's lips, and she nodded as she walked back towards her sister.

"if it's okay with you, I could sleep here tonight."

Tara didn't have to think at all about the request, "I'd really like that."

"Okay."

Amber reached down to touch Tara’s arm “do you have your extra inhaler?”

“yeah i’ll be fine”

“okay.” Amber nodded and grabbed her things before leaving the room.

Richie took that as his time to leave, and he gave Sam a look to let her know he'd be outside.

once they were alone Tara began to break down, finally being alone with the person she loved most, her walls crumbled completely.

Sam hugged her sister tightly until her tears died down and the only thing that could be heard was the chatter outside of the room.

“why was Estelle here?” Sam spoke for the first time in almost an hour. she knew how close Tara and Estelle were before she left, Estelle was practically at their house everyday when they were together and she figured they would maybe keep in touch, it was a small town after all but she didn’t not expect her to be in her sisters hospital room when she walked in.

“she’s my friend?” Tara said although it sounded more like a question than it did a statement.

“oh.”

“yeah” Tara shrugged. “plus she was the one who got there when..” she trailed off not able to finish her sentence but Sam quickly shook her head.

“i get it” she assured her quickly, not wanting her sister to finish her sentence.

eight years ago..

the parking lot was filled with students that friday afternoon, some of them were killing time before practice whilst others were trying to figure out who would be throwing the best party that night.

Estelle leaned against the hood of her brothers car with his friends. thankfully their girlfriends had already left to get ready for whatever party they would be going to. Estelle didn’t think she could deal with them and their stupid comments.

she was included in some of the conversation as Elias and the two guys talked about the newest rumor being spread around school. she wasn’t that interested though, she had gotten a ride from her girlfriend earlier but they got into an argument meaning she had to catch a ride back home with her brother.

she sighed in boredom as she scrolled through her phone carelessly. until footsteps getting near her made the dark haired girl look up from the small screen.

she squinted, the sun bright on that particular October afternoon. as soon as her eyes adjusted she was met with Sam Carpenter who sported a shy smile.

“hey” she said first making the conversation between the boys die down completely and turn to look at her.

“hey” Estelle responded.

Sam glanced at the guys for a quick second, “i just wanted to thank you for taking me home the other day. i was really fucked up” she admitted a bit sheepishly.

Estelle chuckled, “you were extremely fucked up but it’s all good. you’d do the same for me” she shrugged.

Sam nodded. there was a split second in which her eyes glanced down at Estelle’s slightly exposed chest, her shirt not covering as much as it should.

Estelle bit back a smile at the action and as soon as Sams eyes met her own, the taller girl had a matching expression. Sams checks turned a bit rosy as she realized she had been caught.

she cleared her throat, “i’ll see you around”

Estelle nodded, “yeah”

without another word Sam turned and began to take her leave when Estelle’s voice stopped her. “just make sure to stick with weed this time” she called out. Sam didn’t respond verbally but Estelle still heard the laugh escape the tall girls lips.

Estelle watched the girl walk away, in awe at how her hips moved with every step that she took. she never really noticed other people, the only attractive person in the whole school was the girl Estelle was already dating but now seeing Sam up close, god she was so wrong.

“the fuck was that” Elias laughed snapping Estelle’s eyes away from Sams body quickly and turn to look at him.

the boy had an amused yet questioning look in his eye, “nothing” she quickly responded. “she just got high off her ass with the pills you sold to her and i had to take her home” she shrugged.

she didn’t get a response causing her to meet his eye once more. Elias only chuckled with a slight shake of his head.

“uh huh”

[lorirwritesfanfic]

What Loss Feels Like

Book: Bloodbound Characters: Lily Spencer, Jax Matsuo, Kamillah Sayeed, Adrian Raines, MC - Samantha (mentioned) Rating: E Word count: 867 Reading time: ~3min Summary: After Samantha's passing, Lily pays a visit to her friend. Based on the prompts: @lilyspencerappreciationweek day 5 - Lily's Friendships/Relationships/Family / @choicesnovchallenge: Dia de Los Muertos

Author’s notes:

Samantha is a creation of this author. The other characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios;

This piece is set between the end of book two and beginning of book three;

I apologize in advance if Lily's characterization seems off. It's been a while since I played Bloodbound.

Warning: This piece contains descriptions of blood and death. Reader discretion is advised.

"No! No! No!" Jax cries out. Hot tears stream down his face torn between anger and pain as he holds Samantha in his arms. 

He isn't alone though. The same pain begins to spread from her chest to her entire body. And it's also on Kamillah's and Adrian's faces as Samantha's blood pools down the floor. A pain so intense, worse than any physical pain she ever had.

"It can't be..." Lily tells herself as she sinks on the floor next to her best friend's body. But reality hits her hard as her pants get soaked by Samantha's blood. The pain somehow grows stronger. 

Her hand touches Samantha's. "She's still warm," she murmurs. But for how long? Who knows... Does it even matter at this point?

While Adrian goes feral trying to punch Gaius's tree and Kamillah holds him back, Lily hears something strange. Using his sword, Jax cuts his arm and holds Samantha’s head towards the gash on his wrist

"Dude, what the hell?!" Lily says as she slaps Jax’s arm.

"She needs my blood. It’s the only way…" Jax mumbles.

"Stop it right now!" Kamillah shouts.

"Jax, stop it! You can't do that!" 

Lily tries to shake him away to no avail.  

Jax ignores everyone else and presses his wounded wrist against Samantha’s parted lips. 

"You don't know if that's what she wants," Kamillah tried to reason.

"I'm not gonna lose her! I can't lose her!" Jax croaks. 

"Let him do it," Adrian says.

Kamillah and Lily look back at Adrian, who somehow seems as calm as usual, despite the bloodshot eyes. One can't even imagine he was furiously kicking a tree a minute ago.

"But we don't know if—"

"She asked me to turn Lily. Maybe she thought about being Turned at some point," Adrian affirms.

Lily looks at Samantha's body as Jax attempts to feed her with his blood. Samantha wanted her to live so badly she got Adrian into a messy fight with the Council. Sam fought tooth and nail for her to be part of a clan. Maybe she would've considered. She just didn't have time to talk about it.

"Keep feeding it," Lily says.

"Not you too..." Kamillah grumbles.

"Maybe she wanted this! She wanted it for me. Why wouldn't she want it for herself?"

"She asked Adrian out of desperation!" Kamillah snaps.

"And so are we!" Lily wails.

Kamillah turns away as she discreetly wipes a tear from her cheek with one finger then says. "Fine."

Two days later

A crescent moon lights up the graveyard as Lily walks calmly towards Samantha's grave carrying a vase of flowers and a large bag. She doesn't know anything about how Samantha wanted to be buried. It never crossed their minds to talk about such things, but Samantha certainly would appreciate having her favorite flowers on her grave.

"Hey, bestie..." Lily smiles ruefully as she puts down the vase and sits. "I brought you some violets."

Taking a trowel out of the bag, she starts digging a small hole on the floor and takes the flowers off the vase.

"I know what you're thinking, but I did my research on gardening. I know what I'm doing." 

Taking a small box of fertilizer from the bag, she opens the box, mixes it with the sand then places the flower roots on the small hole.

"I don't know if this is what you wanted, but you like violets. It's gonna look nice, right?" She says, covering the flower roots with her hands and using a small watering can to water the soil.

"We never talked about this stuff. We barely had time to talk about normal stuff lately..." Lily looks down as she washes her hands. "But we should have, you know? We should have talked about death, bucket lists, final wishes, memorials... We should have!"

Her eyes well up as she looks at Samantha's picture. "Maybe then I would know if you wanted to be Turned."

A gentle breeze brushes her skin as she collects herself. "Jax tried, but we don't know if it worked. That's killing him. He's a mess, by the way. Adrian and him are emptying Raines Corp drink supply. You'd hate it to see them like this." 

"Kamillah said Turning takes time, that we have to wait a while... But the waiting is just..." Lily shakes her head as she cries once again.

"It shouldn't have been you... I don't know how much it'd hurt to lose anyone else, but... Would it be this painful?" Lily croaks. "It hurts so much, bestie..."

As she cries out, the wind blows stronger, rustling the leaves. A sweet yet spicy smell seeps through the hair, as though it rustled some flowers nearby or somebody sprayed perfume in the air. The scent kind of reminds her of Samantha.

A few minutes pass by until she finally calms down, finding some comfort in the silence of the night and in the smell. 

"Well... That's pretty much it. We're all a mess. Everything is a mess. I don't know what's going to happen next. But I'll keep fighting with the gang. We'll fix this. For you."

Lily then stands up, cleans up the dirt from her pants and gathers everything, placing it back in the plastic bag. 

"I hope you do wake up eventually. Luckily, not as a feral." She crosses her fingers. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be waiting." She then smiles at Samantha's picture on the grave. "Good night, bestie."

With that, Lily takes the plastic bag and walks away.

[asteria-argo]

Summary:

She breathed in slowly, the smell of iron and burnt rubber heavy in the air, and focused on what she knew. The bus had flipped, a car had swerved and hit them. Buck was beside her, hands still linked but slick with blood, awake but dazed as she looked around at the carnage. There were people crying, and screaming. Samantha Watts was on the floor— the roof— with a metal pipe lodged in her side. “Buck,” Eddie rasped, squeezing her friends hand. Buck squeezed back without a second to spare. “I’m okay,” Buck promised, head bleeding from a gash on her forehead and cheek bruised from the impact, reaching out to brush glass from Eddie’s hair “I’m okay, we’re okay.”

chapter two be upon ye

[cold1dead1eyes]

15. death wish

sam gets captured by vampires and dean has to save him. after, sam is less than impressed with dean charging headfirst into a death trap. dean isn't the least bit apologetic.

⊢‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒⊣

dean grunted as he dragged his bloody body across the vamp's nest. it was empty now; twenty something sharp-toothed bastards laying dead on the floor.

dean was lucky. he got the jump on them, and he knew the floor plan of the the old building they used as a hideout well enough that he could sneak around. he's begrudgingly grateful that he had the foresight to actually look into this case instead of just running in headfirst like he wanted to. research is usually sammy's forte, but he did his due diligence this time and it might've just saved his hide.

sam was never going to let him hear the end of this.

"dean!" speak of the devil. dean limped over to his brother, strung up by his wrists to the ceiling. the clang of the metal chains echoed in the large room as dean stabilized sam's body. he reached up to break the cuffs.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" sam hissed at him as soon as he was down. he hastily ripped the cuffs off his wrists. they were raw and bleeding, his face grimy with fear sweat. there were splashes of blood all over him. dean didn't want to think about whose it was.

"you're welcome." dean grumbled. sam's eyes darted down to where he was shakily clutching at a bleeding gash in his side. he ripped dean's hand away from the wound and dean grunted in pain.

"shit, sit down. you're bleeding a lot." sam's hands didn't tremble, but dean recognized the panicked look in his eyes. it was that lost little brother look, desperately begging for dean to make it all okay. dean closed his eyes and huffed, stepping away from sam.

"just a scratch, sammy. i'll be fine." then sam's look of worry turned to one of reprimand. little brother sammy was gone, and responsible, lawboy sammy was here to take over the situation.

"not a chance. i'm stitching you up." dean gave him a puzzled look, like sam was the one being unreasonable here.

"i'll be fine." he would. it wasn't a deep gash, and given what he was up against, it could've ended a lot worse. dean tried not to think about that. truth is, he was expecting it to end badly. his plan was just to get sam out of there. whatever happened after... well, he didn't think that far ahead.

dean started trudging away to the door and sam laughed humourlessly.

"alright, then, but i'm driving. you can sit in the passenger seat and bleed all over the impala's upholstery." sam was right. it wasn't that difficult to get blood out of leather seats, but it definitely wasn't part of dean's ideal post-hunt ritual. plus, it was the principle of the thing. he didn't want to fuck up his baby's feng shui.

"i've driven in worse condition. remember arizona, and that werewolf? my guts were practically inverted." dean tried arguing, but it fell flat even to his own ears. sam's face dropped at that. he clearly didn't enjoy the reminder of that particular hunt, or the hospital trip that ensued.

"dean." he muttered, all motherly. dean just rolled his eyes.

"alright, alright, samantha. make it quick." he plopped down onto a piece of scrap metal. sam rolled his eyes and opened up dean's bag to take out the alcohol and needle.

sam cut away the bloodstained edges of dean's shirt and got to work. he was meticulous with the needle, carefully pulling together the edges and sitching the dental floss tight. he was halfway done when he finally spoke up.

"dean-" his voice was small and enquiring, but dean immediately cut him off.

"don't start." he grumbled. sam looked up and shot him an unimpressed look.

"dean. you almost got yourself killed." there it was. dean huffed and deflected.

"says the one who let himself get jumped by a vamp."

"not a vamp. it was three against one." it was, dean remembers the fight. three of those bastards had charged at sam in a backalley, all sharp teeth and vicious fury. dean was too busy with his own pair to help him.

"yeah, and they were unarmed. you had a damn machete." that was also true. if sam had just swung the stupid thing in time, he might've done enough damage to turn tail and run.

"their fangs are weapons, dean. they knocked mine out of my hand. i just- i was distracted, okay? just let it go. i won't let it happen again." sam sounded bitter. dean raised an eyebrow, glancing down at him. his brother avoided his gaze, suddenly very focused on the stitches. dean scoffed. sam didn't need to focus to stitch him up, he'd been doing this since he hit double digits.

"come on, sammy. sure, blondie had a killer rack, but the fangs should've been an immediate turn-off-" sam cut him off.

"i was worried about you." he muttered, soft and silent. dean froze up. he was suddenly hyperaware of sam's cold fingers pressing into his bloody side. sam took a deep breath and looked away, hands shaking.

"there was one coming at you from behind, and it... i don't know. i froze up." he muttered, embarassed. dean didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet.

silence. sam finished stitching him, and splashed some alcohol onto the wound. dean grit his teeth to keep in his groan. he took deep breaths as sam wiped off the blood and wrapped his side up in gauze.

"if you didn't get the jump on them, you'd be dead." sam whispered. his hands were impossibly gentle as he fixed dean up.

"but i did." dean answered. sam just smiled, hurt and scared.

"this was a death wish. you get that, right?" he asked, sounding oh so vulnerable. dean didn't have the heart to quip at that.

"yeah." he answered honestly. sam sighed and drew back to stand.

"then why the hell would you charge in here?" dean stoop up too and glanced up at sam.

"because they had you." dean said. it explained everything. if i lost you, it'd be worse than dying. sam sighed again, tired and frustrated. he squeezed the bridge of his nose to stave off his migraine.

"wouldn't you have done the same?" dean asked. sam wiped his face with his dirty palm and huffed lightly.

"yeah." he admitted. dean gave him a lazy shrug and immediately regretted it when it made his side twinge. sam, thankfully, let the subject drop.

"come on, let's torch this place and get the hell out of dodge before the cops show up." dean grunted as he heaved up his bag.

"i'm still driving." sam pouted, hands covered in dean's blood. he looked every bit the little brother. dean just laughed.

"like hell you are."

[hazel-of-sodor]

Guardian Ch.1 A Cold WInter's Night

Guardian

Other Stories

January 1971

Ch.1 A Cold Winter's Night

Samantha peered out Thomas’s cab window as he raced along his line through the night. The cold January air swirled through the cab, making her grateful for Thomas’s fire as she heard him humming contentedly along with the rails beneath him. They were making good time from Dryaw on the last westward run of the night, and she was ready for the return run to Ffarquhar and her warm bed. Being No.1’s driver was a dream come true, but the late night runs were still difficult, especially in winter.

‘At least there's no snow,’ She thought, ‘so we have a clear run ahead of us.

But as soon as the thought had cleared her mind, she felt Thomas tense, a tautness beneath her feet. He began to brake, slowing the train. She asked what was wrong but he seemed not to hear her.    

She glanced over at Nicole, but her fireman had no idea what was wrong either. Samantha closed the regulator and allowed Thomas to bring the train to a stop before a clear signal, its glowing green light flickering eerily through the mists in the low valley. The only audible sound was the soft hiss of steam escaping from the valves. She was about to ask again when Thomas finally spoke.

“Stay in the cab, no matter what happens,” the tank engine whispered tersely, his normally chipper tone nowhere to be found, his eyes scanning ahead of him before settling on a distant point beyond his crew's senses. “ Don’t draw attention to yourselves unless I do so first.” In the abnormally quiet night the sound of the coach's doors locking may as well have been gunshots.

“Thomas what's wrong, you're scaring us….” Samantha trailed off as, in the distance, a high dissonant whistle sounded faintly. 

Nicole met her eyes and said in horror, “ There's not supposed to be any other there trains on the line!”  The whistle sounded again, far closer as Samantha dove for the reverser, even as she realized there was no way Thomas could accelerate quickly enough to avoid the oncoming train. Nicole hauled back on Thomas' whistle desperately as a light raced around a bend ahead of them, the other engines' haunting tone replying near instantly. Samantha threw the throttle wide open and braced as the other engines brakes came on with a creaked scream. Samantha shut her eyes with the other engine mere meters from Thomas, sparks flying from its wheels.

Seconds past, and Samantha slowly opened her eyes to meet Nicole's across the cab then slowly turned to look through the front cab windows as she closed the throttle. Mere inches from Thomas' buffers stood an engine unlike any she had seen before. While many of the other railways engines were in various states of disrepair, this engine made a scrapyard seem kind. Snow and rust covered the engine, in some places holes and gashes marred the footplate and boiler, steam lazily escaping before being blown away by a non-existent breeze. The frames were bent out of shape, arching up behind the smokebox in a twisted parody of the wheel arches behind. The funnel lay nearly perpendicular to the ground, and was nearly shorn in two. The cab was gone, torn off in whatever long forgotten calamity befell the engine and the tender was outright missing. The smokebox was a blank piece of metal with a red lamp seeming to peer at them from the center. Despite this, she still recognized the shapes before her. A stirling single stood before them, wavering whenever a part was focused on for too long.

A/N: Hello Loves! I've never actually posted my first fic 'Guardian' on here, so I'll be doing that the next few days.

[atomicdarc]

It's me again...the oc loser who has a alien robot father figure,,

Sam (my oc in short for Samantha) sees scavenger as a Grandpa and scavenger sees the said oc as a stupid lil ankle biter (a granddaughter of sorts) vice versa,

So when they found out that she had a robot arm that was also on the same arm that red alert lost his hand too, the Autobots would literally joke around like...

"Oh hey, it's the tiny red 2.0!" -Hotshot (???-2024 sadly)

Because said oc insane lore is stupidly not able to understand yet,, I mean my man is a Wizard that has a freaking aliens robots as a family Because hers is dead??? (AND SHES A EXPERT IN CARS AND A MEDIC HERSELF?????)

Red alert and Sam bonding moment is when Sam goes to their missions (or not) and always come back with a gash or 5, and a bruise somewhere?? (Said medic is confused asf)

sorry for oc info-dumping,,, nobody would have interest in my oc and ur blog really makes me happy since u hear out to ocs?-

-🏍 anon

Everytime that I see scavenger I see him as a old uncle that listens to sertanejo (it's a cultural Brazilian music style, and it's pretty common to older people to hear it in there).

AND TINY RED 2.0? I'M DYING-

The fact that she knows about medicine and cars just makes Hotshot point even more accurate.

And it's ok if you want to info dump! My friends and I generally talk about each other OCs and AUs, I'm pretty familiar with that, so be free to do it when you want!

—Thanks for the ask!

[danascullysjournal]

If You Will Let Me

X-Files Post-Milagro fanfic

TW: horror, demonic activity, demonic possession, near death experience, mild blood

Chapter 15: Martyr

File Artifact: the old farmhouse.

____________________

Mulder had known this darkness since his sister disappeared, in the way a patient knows a disease.

He had seen it in his periphery, on sleepless nights with sweat dampened sheets, looming in the shadows of his wounded memories. Insatiable. Relentless, but never fully visible… an elusive, malignant force. Certainly nothing he could control.

But how he had fought.

And recently, he really thought he had been winning.

Over the past year- even the past week- his hope had grown. The shadows had receded. He had finally, blissfully discovered how much he meant to Scully. He had held her… comforted her… kissed her.

There had been tangible hope for a future.

But the darkness found him. Again.

You are not enough. The voices lilted in his brain, louder, falling over themselves in a mocking, twisted, tuneless round as they traversed his neural networks and rooted deep into the panicked flesh of his amygdala. Not enough… never enough. Their relentless, dripping ridicule wrapped round and round his mind as the ghostly black tendrils slithered round his body, pulling him down. Burying him under masses of leaden smoke.

He saw nothing, anymore. The rods and cones of his eyes had been rendered impotent, his visual receptors overrun by an emptiness stitched tightly through each neuron by the fingers of darkness. But he felt not-Samantha watching, with her white eyes burning and small chin held high, gloating over her catch. Heard her laugh, airy, but somehow sinister… almost her. But not quite.

He wondered, as he sank into an icy, painful oblivion, if his real sister blamed him. If she hated him as much as this facsimile.

And as the darkness engulfed him, mind and body, he began to let go. Of Scully. Of Samantha. Of the prospects of a future with and for someone besides himself. He was so cold. It crystalized across his skin, slowing the life inside his veins, pressing itself into his pores and digging through. Running his nerves like currents, beginning to feed.

The bitter, icy sadness permeated him. But if Scully could escape, he bartered, he would take his place with the countless others collected in this hell scape.

A soul for a soul.

It was the only gift he could give to her, now. His breath faltered, his pulse slowed, and he hoped. For her sake alone.

____________________

Mulder’s body lay across the threshold of the broken door, motionless.

The sunlight glowed golden around him, outlining him in gilding, a martyr of illuminated scripts from ages past.

Scully wanted to run to him.

And she wanted to crumble. To hide her face from what she feared most, and sink into oblivion. For all she knew, this was another lie… or worse. That possibility, she could not consider. She tried not to recount the bodies of coded patients and autopsied victims, summoned up from her locked subconscious by the apparition of Philip Padgett. They had all lain eerily still. Just like this.

He can’t be dead. He can’t.

The last shreds of hope she possessed pulled her forward. Though the summer heat was pressing in from the gaping door, she felt the temperature dropping at her back. They didn’t have much time.

“Mulder?”

No response.

The last two steps were leaden, and her brow knotted tight as she took him in. His forehead was pricked by dozens of miniature scrapes, open and oozing crimson. The cartilage of his ear, torn and mangled, was matched by the deep, dirt-crusted gash in his palm. In the radiant summer sunlight he seemed perfect, and broken, an almost-saint with half of the stigmata vouching for his worth. His eyes were closed. His chest, agonizingly still.

“Oh, Mulder, no.”

Before she fully registered what her body was doing, she was kneeling over him, frantically feeling his cold neck for a pulse with her own bloodied fingers. Tracing between slack neck tendons, locating proof of life in his veins.

It was faint. But it was there.

“Mulder?” Her hands traveled from his jugular to his sternum, resting there. Willing his chest to rise. Nothing. Scully felt her own throat constricting, tight from tears threatening to surface.

“Mulder, we have to go.” Her trembling hands went back to his neck, ready to position him for breaths. She couldn’t give up on him. She wouldn’t. “You have to breathe. Please?”

As if in response, she felt his lungs expand. He drew in a shallow, shaking gasp of air, and began to cough weakly.

“Oh, thank God. Keep breathing… I know you can.” She propped herself up on one hand, using the other to wipe the blood from his forehead.

Mulder drew in more air, and shuddered.

The ambient air was cold, Scully realized. Clouds of black began to fill the entryway, all too familiar to her now, darkening the doorway that had been brilliant with summer sun minutes before. Murmurs, soft and dreamlike in a thousand voices and tongues, began calling to her. Hungry. Hunting. They were here for her… countless numbers of them. Her breath caught in her throat.

“S… Scully.” Mulder forced her name out in a strained whisper. “Scully. Run.”

“N-no, Mulder. I'm staying right here. With y-.”

“Scully.” His head turned slowly toward her. His eyelids cracked open, slightly. Showing an opalescent glow within.

“Mulder…?”

“I can see… Every possible… death for you.” He forced in another shallow breath, fighting the demons inside. “And you… need to run.” His fingers raised up to her clavicle blindly, searching. To the long, bloody slice that traced beneath. “I asked… just me. Not you… But I can’t… stop them.”

His fingertips slowly trailed fresh red from her incision down her pale skin, and his brow furrowed with sadness.

“Scully… I’m sorry… Go.” He splayed his fingers across her chest, pressing against her weakly in a vain attempt to push her away. Though his white, unseeing eyes pierced through her, his face was twisted in pain. Heartbreak.

She shook her head.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to... A legion, Scully… Too many.”

“I won’t.” Tears cut paths down her stained cheeks. She cupped his chin in her bloody hands, voice quivering. “You said I wasn’t a victim, Mulder, and I won’t be. You can’t be one, either.”

His eyes closed, but he pulled in another labored breath. Fighting.

“Mulder. Stay with me.” She could barely make out his face, outlined in deep gray against the stark, black forms that were enveloping them both. A sob broke over her lips. “Please keep fighting. Keep breathing. We’re gonna get out. You and me.”

Another breath.

Scully strained to move him, pulling his chilled body up to her own, ignoring the burning of the autopsy wound soiled by his dust-caked face and hair. Frantically, her eyes searched the darkness, desperately seeking an escape. She clutched him to her chest as the charcoal columns drew ever closer, white eyes fixed on her.

Whispering.

Chanting.

Constricting.

Claiming.

She could see nothing, except their countless eyes boring into her soul. Felt nothing, except the tendrils grasping her arms and body, and the chill radiating from Mulder, across her fingertips, through her hands.

“We told you. He is ours.” Through the murky smoke, Scully could make out the shell of the man she wished to never see again.

Her glare met his. Unwavering.

“You don’t get to keep him.” Her words were tempered. Her jaw clenched. “I don’t care what you are. You can’t have him.” She cradled Mulder’s face to her body, protectively.

Padgett’s ghostly white visage peered through the columns of loosely gathered, ephemeral beings, edging itself closer. It twisted, masking itself with a pathetic attempt at kindness that was a hungry, haunted grin. Nothing more.

“You can stay. With him.” The smile was forced. Empty. “We know that’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

“This is not what I want.”

Padgett’s charade of sympathy was shattered by his laugh, a sound that bellowed out from his shifting body as it was echoed by the shrouded forms surrounding them. The face of the dead man dissolved into the darkness, leaving behind the white beaded eyes inches from her own.

And she felt pinpricks of energy, like ice on her skin as they began to enter her. The tendrils around them cinched tighter. She wanted desperately to fight, but… she could feel them crawling up through her neural network. Reaching into her. Taking control.

Mulder’s breathing faltered beneath her numbing fingers, and Scully felt her stomach drop.

“Mulder- don’t go. Just… keep breathing.” There is no point in breathing now. Scully choked on the words inside her mind. What was she becoming?

They had to leave, her rational remnants knew. But the pulsing, raging shadows burrowed into them both. She felt desperately alone, clinging to Mulder like her eight year old self to a rag doll, while the demons began to feed, siphoning themselves in, or herself out. She couldn’t tell anymore.

What would they be? Just a part of this mass of souls?

“I don’t know how, Mulder.” Her whisper was stained with regret. “God, I…”

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

It was the rushing of demons through her cerebrum, the pulsing of blood in her ears. It was the flood of hopelessness and acceptance.

And her eyes began to close.

____________________

“You’re tougher stuff than that, Starbuck.”

Scully felt herself pulled backward, jarred in her own skin. The voice was muted by the rushing of the black clouds, the jeering and insatiable growling of the demons, and the confusion of her own half consciousness. But it was there.

“Dad?”

Impossible.

He had been gone for years. But that voice. There was no mistaking her father’s deep, reassuring voice. So strong. Controlled. Safe. She shifted her cold body, forcing her clouding eyes to open, straining to locate the source.

“Fight it.”

“I don’t… know how.” It was a whisper, a sob. A plea for help from the last shreds of herself.

There is no fighting it. Stay. The demonic voices whispered within her, a hissing sound that was hopeless and strangely comforting, all at once. After all, she could rest here.

“Dana, don’t listen to them. You’re a fighter.”

She had been a fighter. It felt like a lifetime ago.

A sudden lurch against her chilled, bare chest pulled pieces of herself back, momentarily. Mulder. Her hands were numb, but the vibration of his ragged body against her was violent, sending tremors through her weary muscle and bone.

Convulsions?

Her medical mind fought the battle that the rest of her rational self was losing. Mulder was dying. Now. She was his only chance. Their only chance.

“Mulder.” His name was a murmur across her lips. She fumbled with his head dumbly, unable to work with no feeling in her limbs. “We have… to go… get up.”

Through the shadows, she saw his lips part. His head lolled to the side.

Her stomach dropped.

“Dad…” Scully didn’t know if she had really heard him. The rushing whispers in her mind told her no, and she should lie down and give up. But… “Dad, I’m… scared… he’s dying… we’re… dying…” The last word tumbled off her tongue, heavy with the sentencing it carried.

“It isn’t time for you to die, Starbuck.”

The spirits began to hiss and growl at this interruption, this benevolent visitor that would dare disturb their feeding. Mulder’s body stirred, drawing in a shallow gasp of air.

It isn’t time. She could feel the demons around them, in them, enraged at the thought of losing the souls they had worked to collect. And, she thought dully, how could they survive when they were surrounded by death?

“Dana, fight. Battles have been won by outnumbered men.”

Shrieking, the demons pressed in further, in earnest. There was rage building up inside of her… and she knew it wasn’t her own.

She pulled in another choked breath, and let Mulder down to the floor gently as she could with her awkward hands, cold and clumsy.

If they were to escape… she would have to move him.

Scully worked desperately to find pieces of herself through the angry din that permeated her. She had fought. But this house, these beings… It was not rational, not logical. She had no power over something so ethereal, so beyond her understanding. But she didn’t have to understand. She just had to act.

Against their chilled skin, the black forms screamed, rising to the frantic screeching she had felt before. Their dark tempest pummeled her, and inside… she felt herself flayed. Pulled apart, as if one piece of her soul wanted to escape, while the other… the other fought to stay. She smelled the desperation of the monsters enveloping them.

It mirrored her own.

“God, please…” It was all she could manage.

It was all she needed.

The door.

She couldn’t see it, but it had to be there.

With a determined growl, she threw her shoulder onto Mulder’s side, and his body moved. His eyes flew open, glaring at her.

White. Feral.

But she could hear him breathing, shallow. Ragged. But still breathing. It wasn’t too late.

“Mulder… keep fighting.” Another shoulder on his side. Another inch moved. “Let’s go… you… and me.”

The demons screamed and clawed around them, a cacophony of rage and hunger… but weaker, somehow. The whispers inside her had waned.

“Mulder.” She pushed hard against his side. There was dull pain in her shoulder, and a welcome tingle in her fingers. “Fight it. C’mon.”

Another breath, stronger.

His frame rolled, and she found herself fumbling in the darkness.

“Mulder?”

Fingers grasped at her arm, blindly. They traveled down her forearm, to her hand.

They grasped weakly.

“Scully.”

Her heart swelled, and she breathed her relief.

The chaos around them roared, eliminating all other sounds. But nothing else needed to be said. Arm over tingling arm, they dragged their exhausted, ravaged bodies to the threshold. Pressing through clawing masses of smoke, they pulled each other forward.

Their hands broke through to the glistening sunlight.

Together. Alive.

____________________

Thank you for reading! Tagging @today-in-fic

[thecrimecrypt]

Crimes That Shook Britain (London)

Murder of Nisha Patel-Nasri Special Constable Nisha Patel-Nisri, 29, was stabbed to death outside her Wembley home in May 2006.  It was assumed she’d interrupted a burglary. Her husband Fadi Nasri made an emotional televised appeal for information. But, six months later, police found the murder weapon - a knife missing from the Nasris’ kitchen - in a nearby drain. 

CCTV footage showed a silver Audi - traced to a nightclub bouncer - pulling up to the drain. The bouncer claimed his friend Jason Jones, 36, of disposed of the knife.  Jones’ phone records connected him to drug dealer Rodger Leslie - and also to Nisha’s husband Fadi Nasri. Officers charged all four with murder. At the February 2008 trial, it was revealed Nasri had been having an affair with a Lithuanian prostitute, was £100,000 in debt. 

Nasri had paid Jones £15,000 to kill his wife for her life insurance - a deal set up by dealer Leslie.  The bouncer was acquitted, but Jones, Leslie and Nasri were all found guilty and sentenced to life. 

John Christie On 9 March 1950, Timothy Evans was hanged for murdering his daughter Geraldine. Police believed he’d also killed his wife Beryl at 10 Rillington Place in Notting Hill, London. 

Evans claimed the downstairs neighbor John Christie killed Beryl in a botched abortion, but Christie was a prosecution witness, and the jury believed him.  When Christie moved house three years later, another tenant stumbled across three bodies in a hidden alcove in Christie’s kitchen. A total of seven bodies were found in the house and garden - including those of Beryl and Geraldine, plus Christie’s wife Ethel.

Christie was arrested and confessed to murdering seven women. Most were raped and strangled.  On 5 July 1953, Christie was hanged by the same executioner who’d hanged innocent Timothy Evans. 

Killing of Rachel Nickell The sexual assault and killing of Rachel Nickell, 23, on Wimbledon Common in July 1992, was one of Britain’s biggest unsolved cases.  The model was stabbed 49 times in broad daylight. 

Heartbreakingly, her son, then 2, was found clinging to her, covered in blood, begging her to wake up.  A local man was charged, but the trial collapsed. 

In November 2004, after a DNA breakthrough, killer and rapist Robert Napper became prime suspect. He was already in psychiatric hospital Broadmoor for murdering Samantha Bisset and her daughter Jasmine, 4, in 1993.  Napper finally admitted killing Rachel and, in 2008, pleaded guilty to manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility. 

Death of Baby P In August 2007, 17-month-old Peter Connelly, known as Baby P before his full name was released to the media was found dead in his cot in Haringey, north London, with a catalogue of injuries. 

His mother Tracey, her lover, Steven Barker and his brother Jason Owen had inflicted the unimaginable violence.  Prior to Peter’s death, doctors and social services had noticed injuries, yet Peter was always returned to his mother. 

Just days before Peter’s death, a social worker failed to spot further injuries - disguised by chocolate deliberately smeared on his face.  When he died, little Peter had a broken back, fractured shin, his ear was ripped, a tooth knocked out and his head was gashed. 

The distressing case left the nation horrified. Connelly, Barker, and Owen were convicted of causing Peter’s death, and jailed. Owen and Connelly were released but since returned to prison for breaching parole.  Haringey council apologized for its failure to save the life of little Peter Connelly. 

Dennis Nilsen In February 1983, residents of 23 Cranley in Muswell Hill, north London, complained of blocked drains and a sickening stench.  In the outside drain, a technician found bones and rotting human remains. 

In the filthy attic of Dennis Nilsen’s flat, police found dismembered, decaying corpses. Nilsen had been luring young gay men to his flat, then strangling them.  After cutting them up, he’d boil the skin off their bones and hide body parts in the house. He’d flushed limbs, flesh and organs down the toilet and sink. 

Three men were killed at Cranley Gardens, 12 more were murdered at Nilsen’s previous flat in Cricklewood, where he’d burned remains in the garden.  Nilsen was serving a whole-life sentence for the murders when he died in 2018 from a pulmonary embolism. 

Murder of Stephen Lawrence On 22 April 1993, Stephen Lawrence, 18, was killed in Eltham, south London, in a racist attack - David Norris, Gary Dobson, and three other suspects were arrested and Norris and Dobson were charged with murder, but the case was dropped due to insufficient evidence. 

In 2005, laws preventing suspects being tried twice for the same crime were scrapped. New DNA evidence was found on Dobsons’ and Norris’ clothes and, in 2011, they were re-tried, found guilty of murder and jailed for life. 

[actiongrrl]

−−−¨༺ Sam's brows furrowed once more, looking at Mike like he had just sprouted a second head. "Mike, I have no idea what you're talking about," she answered, voice deadpan with a slight edge of confusion in it. Metal Gear was a video game series, she knew that much. Any specifics? Not at all. She played Animal Crossing, and that was fun. She had little animal pals. But the more he just… Spoke the more Sam realised that she didn’t know a lot of the details of what happened to Mike. She knew he injured himself and got separated from Jess. Details were filled in as they spent time in the trenches together. Trying not to react too dramatically to the news, the blonde simply widened her eyes and gave a nod. “Mike, that’s really gross.” The thought made her a little queasy. Even more so that some animal may be gnawing on them.

−−− And he couldn’t just leave it be. Good ol’- “Mike!” she hissed, gently whacking him on the shoulder with the back of her free hand. Sam tried to find a spot without too much jumbling up. Between her IV and everything with Mike she tried really hard not to take up too much space, opting to draw her knees up to her chest and rest her chin atop. It was such a childish sight, making herself small for protection. For comfort. Sam wanted her dad. She wanted her cat. She wanted to go home and forget about everything when she knew there was no way she ever would. Or could. “I’ll make sure to chase you around to get that blood flowing next time, Munroe,” she idly threatened from her position as Samantha-shaped ball.

−−− There was a hint of laughter at Mike’s expense once again. She wasn’t sure there was any way that this was remotely comfy for him. It was a tight squeeze and he looked like hell. Bruises and gashes everywhere and a fair few were a direct result of her. Mike was a lot of things, but he cared. And she was here right now because of him. It was so juvenile of her to hold everything against him, and it was even worse that it took the worst night in the world for her to realise it. There wasn’t a way for her to properly thank him and it was another level knowing he probably wouldn’t accept it.

−−− Slowly, while clarity set in for Mike, Sam turned her head to look at him resting her cheek on her knees. Logically, he wasn’t guilting her and she even thought that maybe it was just she same vibe they were on. That much she did know. But there was guilt bubbling in her stomach regardless. He had come so very close to dying because of her and that realisation set it the moment he mentioned it. “I’m sorry,” her voice was more quiet than she had anticipated. “You said not to move and I know- I just..” Sam’s jaw set as she wrestled with the vulnerability between them and vulnerability she had to face with herself. “I was scared.” Hazel eyes focused on Mike’s face more as a weak half-smile found its way to her features. “I think a dumb part of me hoped she would somehow recognise us.”

✧˖*°࿐ In fairness to Sam, Mike wasn't following his own train of thought very well and it was basically stream of consciousness right then, so she was doing great. If he wasn't floating in his own brain juices, they would have been closer to the same page, just like they had been that night - like they'd always been, really. He couldn't even lie to say that he hadn't realized how much he missed her because he'd thought about it a lot, but what was there to say? The situation had been stupid and it had turned upside down and fucked up when Hannah and Beth disappeared, and there was nothing that Mike wouldn't have done to have them come home safe. He knew a little too well what the phantom pain of something that had always been a part of his life being gone suddenly felt like when it was all three of those girls, Sam included. He could handle the fingers - with some complaining, of course.

ㅤ"Phantom Pain? Like the Metal Gear game? That's coming out this year," he murmured instead of all of that sentimental shit; Sam didn't look like she could take too much more of a beating, emotional or otherwise, and he wasn't with it enough to actually have a real, solid conversation like that. He didn't even fully consider it, not in the soup of thoughts, but outside of his dumb shit, she had a point - he had a rough recovery ahead of him, the fingers being the least of it. "They were still hangin' out of that beartrap, you think anyone found 'em? Might've still been good, it was like a freezer in there."

ㅤYeah, might have still been good, like leftovers stuck in the freezer. "I hurt too much to even joke about other 'options' for warming up, Sam, don't fuck me up," he chuckled, looking pained because just the motion rocked his ribcage even through the painkillers. He was going to have a hell of a time, but she smiled just a little at his joke about his fingers and keeping hers, and that was worth it all. He'd missed her smile. He actually laughed again at what had to be a joke about his other hand with the glass in it being sore, even as casually as she delivered it, because what wasn't going to be sore? It was just a given now, right?

ㅤFortunately, laughing meant that he was already enjoying himself when he got to scooting over and trying to arrange both himself and Wolfie with the addition of Sam squeezing both of their injured asses into the little bed, but at least she also brought extra blankets and body heat. He remembered thinking he might never feel warm again, but this was something entirely different. "What makes you think I'd even feel it if you kneed me? Ow, fuckshit, I felt that one, no, that was me, mmmmmm, okay."

ㅤDefinitely not easy, but fortunately his legs were only garden variety falling-from-heights-sore and nothing extra bad, because Wolfie was draped over them now that the people were taking up the rest of the width of the tiny bed. Once settled, he released a long sigh, relaxing with it almost as a full-body movement, but that was also giving in to the meds again because it was genuinely difficult to be too upset right then. Having Sam curled up in blankets in a hospital bed wasn't how he'd intended to talk to her again, but he probably would have given another finger to not fuck it up now that they were there. "You scared the fuck outta me, you know that? At the end there, thought...they're just so goddamn strong, I thought..."

ㅤGiven how he'd lunged for Sam and been thrown across the room for his efforts, it was pretty clear what he'd thought, but try putting that into words right then.

[michaelabradshaw]

S02E01 samantha & sarah talk strategy

[iconsurvivor]

Australian Survivor - Season 2/4

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 48: Family and Hell

Sam headed back inside the building and looked for Theo who hissed, holding his cut side in pain. "You still with us, Raeken?", she asked, walking up to him.

He scoffed. "Last name basis, now?" She rolled her eyes, crouching near him. "Just tell me you wanna get killed first and I'll hand you to the beast if it'll make you feel better.", she says, sarcastically.

He grunted, trying to sit up on the wall. "Lemme see.", Sam said, reluctantly.

He looked at her before removing his bloody hand, showing her a gash. She grimaced and hovered her glowing hand above his wound, helping him heal.

He watched in astonishment once she finished, feeling sore in her own side before feeling the pain subside.

He looked up at her as she looked at him with a frown. "That's what you've been missing out on. If you played nice, you'd probably learn more about me than you do now.", she said, standing up.

Theo looked down before getting up. She turned away from him, ready to walk away. "We just...", she sighed. She paused. "I just wish you did better.", she says, before turning around to face him.

"We probably need you on our team more than you need us. But that doesn't make you boss. That just makes you a part of the pack. If you used your abilities the right way instead of just using them for being an overlord or whatever you were gonna call yourself.", Sam said then left the Raeken boy.

"Sam!", Scott called. She ran up to him, pausing as she caught Tracy. "Shit."

"So, you're alive.", Tracy frowned.

"Guess electricity doesn't knock you out for long, huh?", Sam scoffed and ran after Scott who rushed over to Liam.

Scott and Liam picked up the Surgeon and looked at Sam. "Is he…?", she grimaced.

"He's still alive.", Scott nodded. "We're taking him to Deaton."

Sam nodded, following Scott and Liam to the Animal Clinic.

The Surgeon was laid out on the table and the pack surrounded him. Deaton looked over the doctor, examining the head while Scott and Stiles stood on the one side as Liam and Sam stood on the opposite side.

"Can you keep him alive?" Scott questioned Deaton. "I'm not sure he technically is alive." Deaton said.

"Screw keeping him alive.", Liam uttered. "How do we get him to talk?"

"Personally, I don't think we utilize torture nearly enough.", Stiles retorted. "Stiles.", Sam warned with raised eyebrows.

Stiles let out a small huff. 

"Wait. Did you hear that?", Liam asked and they looked at him before the older werewolves began to hear a ringing in their ears that got louder.

Sam covered her ears. "What's going on?", Stiles asked, confused. The ringing got deafeningly and painfully louder, causing Sam to drop to a knee. What the hell was this noise??

"It's Sebastien.", Scott whispered. "He's calling out to–"

Sam let out a loud, painful yell and the Surgeon shot up on the table, emitting his frequency. Everyone had their ears covered from the loud noises.

The tables rattled and the floor shook as the Surgeon jumped off the table, standing up and headed for the door. Liam uncovered his ears, instantly chasing after the doctor.

"Liam, wait!", Scott yelled and Sam reached for Liam but the Surgeon whipped his hand back that created a force wave and Liam flew back into Sam.

They both covered their ears, thrashing on the floor as the surgeon escaped.

As the noise decreased, Stiles ran to Sam and took her in his arms, as she groaned. "You okay?", Stiles asked.

Sam let out a panting sigh. "I hate those doctors."

"The cane.", Scott whispered.

"They got the cane.", Liam said. "What?", Stiles frowned as well as Sam.

"The pike was the cane that he had and Argent and Gerard took it.", Scott stated.

Sam got up. "Then that means that Sebastien wants it and he's gonna track it down."

With that, Scott starting looking through Mason's files. "Maybe there's something in here. Something about how he was a Genetic Chimera."

"Mason had a vanishing twin.", Deaton nodded.

"Now we've got a vanishing Mason.", Stiles complained.

Liam shrugged. "What does that have to do with him turning into a 250-year-old French guy? How does that even happen?"

"A vanishing twin?", Sam asked. "He ate his twin.", Deaton summed. Sam grimaced.

God.

"Scott might have something.", Deaton said. "Mason's twin wasn't entirely gone. That's what made him a Genetic Chimera."

"The DNA was still there.", Scott said in realization.

"Metaphorically speaking, the DNA of Mason could still be inside Sebastien as well."

"How?" Stiles furrowed his brow.

"Energy.", Sam suggested.

"Sam's right. Life is energy. Energy doesn't just disappear. The Dread Doctors may have found a way to break the rules of the supernatural world but there are some rules that simply won't break.", Deaton explained.

"So Mason can't just be gone?", Liam asked.

"Somewhere in Sebastien he has to still exist in some form. A spark of energy, a flicker of memory."

Stiles picked up the Surgeon's mask, eyeing it. "Hang on... Liam, you said Mason said something right before he turned."

"Yeah.", Liam said. "He said, 'That's not my name'.", Sam said.

"That's what they wanted. They wanted Sebastien to remember his name.", Liam nodded.

Scott nodded. "He finally remembered his name."

"Damnatio Memoriae.", Stiles said.

"That was enough for them.", Sam said. "We called him Mason. Kept calling him Mason and he just… he wasn't having it."

Deaton looked at Scott. "Scott, you know the myth of what happens when you call a werewolf by its given name?"

"It turns back to human."

"What does that mean?", Liam asked. "Someone can just walk up to the Beast, yell Mason's name and turn him back?"

"Not just someone..."

"It's gotta be Lydia.", Sam said.

Stiles nodded. "We'll get her."

The teen split up, and Sam went after the Surgeon. She managed to sense where the doctor was and saw a man's head instead.

She walked up to it to see a ghostly pale, clammy face that had indents of old stitches in it. She gave it a nudge with her foot, causing the one good eye to look up at her.

"The beast…. has been created.", he rasped. 

Sam frowned. "What was the purpose? What were you trying to gain from this?"

The man took in a raspy breath. "I…." Black blood dripped out of his mouth. His death was approaching. "I owed a friend a favor."

She tilted her head in confusion before letting out a soft breath of realization. "You're Marcel."

The surgeon nodded. Sam shook her head. "You brought him back. Why?" The man hadn't answered. "How do we stop him from hurting anyone else? He's uncontrollable.", Sam pressed.

"You can defeat him…with the pike.", he answered. "Just as the banshee must wield her scream..and the hellhound wields its fire." As he gave a final sigh, he finally died.

Sam walked away heading for the police station. In the sheriff's office, sebastien sat in front of sheriff stilinski's desk and the sheriff put away his phone after getting Stiles' messages, explaining the problems. The older Stilinski looked at Sebastien. "You're looking for one of the argents?"

Sebastien looked at him with amused eyes. "You seem to know who I am. That means you know what I'm capable of."

"I've got some experience.", the sheriff agreed.

"Your weapons may be more sophisticated than the arrows and the bullets of my time, but they still won't kill me.", Sebastien determined.

The sheriff reached into his holster, took out his gun and sat it down on his desk as he stared at Sebastien, certain of himself. "I'm pretty sure a nine millimeter beretta will do more damage than an 18th century musket."

Sebastien set his jaw, eyeing the gun before looking at the sheriff. "Are you certain? I can walk out of this place with my hands clean. Or, I can walk out with them drenched in blood.", he said, with raised eyebrows. "Your choice."

Sebastien stood up and the sheriff did as well, preparing for any attack.

The deputy outside the office noticed the commotion and busted in the office. "Sir?", the deputy looked at her supervisor.

"Clarke, don't." Sheriff held his hand up to stop her. Sebastien glared at Clarke and she glared at him. "Stop where you are."

His eyes immediately illuminated in a blue light and his fangs protruded from his lips. "Let him go.", the sheriff ordered but the deputy whipped out her gun, aiming at Sebastien, making him let out a growl as he pounced at her. Both authorities shot off their guns.

Lydia, who was already at the sheriff's office, heard the guns go off, fearing what was to come. Lydia left the room she stayed in and watched as Sebastien turned towards her and growled. He ran over, ready to strike his long claws into her throat.

Before he could harm her any deeper, Lydia let out her best screech, making him stumble back. She raised her hands, pushing the force of her scream to make him fly back into the wall.

Hayden arrived and saw his form, making her step away in fear. Sebastien glanced down at his claws, seeing Lydia's blood on them and looked up at her to see her holding her bloody neck. Lydia's eyes fluttered as she dropped to her knees. 

His eyes then roamed up to Hayden and he stood, huffing. "Hayden. Your name is Hayden." Before he could attack anyone else, Sam busted in the sheriff's office, partially shifted as she let out a growl.

She looked to see a bloody Lydia and knelt down to her. "Hey. Hey!", she carried Lydia into her arms as she glanced at Sebastien who took Hayden. "Shit."

"Sam.", the girl looked up to see the sheriff. "We gotta get her to the hospital." Sam nodded and carried her out to the van.

On the way to the hospital, Sam made sure to heal anything that could fatally kill Lydia before arriving. At least, she'd be able to get some rest.

Sam helped Lydia out of the van and into the hospital, coming straight for Melissa. "We need help! It's Lydia."

The woman got more nurses to help Lydia onto a stretcher and into a room. "What happened?", Melissa asked Sam. Sam sighed. "The usual."

Scott, Stiles, and Liam had arrived at the hospital, and Melissa gave a rundown of Lydia's condition.

After that, Scott, Sam and Liam waited out in the hall while Stiles stayed with Lydia. "Is she okay?", Liam asked. "She's gonna be fine, but... She can't really talk.", Scott said.

Liam nodded. "Then it's over, isn't it?" He frowned, growing upset. "There's nothing we can do to save him."

Sam looked at the boy sadly. "Liam…"

Scott picked up his phone, receiving multiple voicemails from Kira and walked away to listen to them. Liam sighed sadly. They were running out of time and he was gradually losing his friend.

It hurt.

Sam looked at the boy and brought him into a hug. "I'm sorry. I wish we had more time to get him.", she mumbled. He hugged her back. "I just… I wish I knew earlier."

Sam pulled away to look at him. "Hey, there's nothing you could've done. You weren't even supposed to be dragged into supernatural things. You're still new to this, there's just some things you might not know or not be prepared for. But we got you anyways.", she reassured.

Liam looked down. "Scott… Scott told me you revived someone. Could you do that in case we do lose Mason? In case… I do?", he asked.

Sam frowned sadly. "It only works if I take someone's life. I was only able to revive him because I helped kill the Nogitsune. It would've probably worked if I had killed Kate, but I couldn't. It's not always easy. Trust me."

She put a hand on his shoulder, making him look at her. "We're gonna get this done. We'll save Mason. Okay?" Liam sighed and nodded before being brought into another hug.

They pulled away once Scott came back. "C'mon."

Liam and Sam looked confused. "Why?"

"Because I've got an idea. And because this isn't over.", he determined and his betas followed after him, entering Lydia's room.

Scott pulled his mom aside to talk to her and Sam went over to Stiles. "How's she doing?", she asked. "She's stable. Scott's mom said she got lucky."

Sam nodded.

Scott had told them his plan and his pack nodded. Liam and Scott helped Lydia sit up as Melissa walked over to her. "Lydia, this is gonna have to be just between us, because I could get fired for it."

Melissa took out a syringe filled with a liquid.

"It's a cortisone shot. It's gonna bring the inflammation down," Scott stated as his mom took off the cap to reveal the huge needle.

Scott's betas instantly tensed up, getting nervous themselves, while Lydia weakly nodded, taking out her arm from under the covers. "Not there.", Melissa said and reached for the bandage patch that was on Lydia's neck. She peels back the one top part and Lydia groans in pain.

Stiles nodded. "Oh, yeah, okay, I'm gonna need to leave."

"You're not going anywhere.", Melissa instructed. "Hold her hand."

"Okay, fine." He huffed. "I'm not leaving, but I still might faint.", he complained. 

Melissa took a breath. "Okay. Here we go." She aimed the needle to her neck and before she could insert it, they paused at the sound of a thud.

They turned around and saw that Liam had passed out. Sam shook her head and picked him up as Melissa continued.

After everything settled and got Lydia dressed up, they quickly left the hospital. "Okay. I'll get Malia. Text me when you find Parrish.", Stiles said, getting ready to go.

"Hold on.", Scott stopped him and reached into his pocket, handing Stiles a brown paper bag.

"What is this?", Stiles asked, confused.

"Something I've been working on for a while. Just make sure Malia gets it.", Scott said.

Stiles nodded. "Is it plan B?"

"It was plan A."

"Plan A never works.", Stiles frowned.

"This is gonna work.", Sam said, making the boys look at her. "It has to. We haven't exactly failed before. We're gonna finish this."

Scott nodded and left with Liam and Lydia. Stiles and Sam arrived at the house, and hopped out of the Jeep, running up to the front of the house.

Stiles quickly swung the door open and stopped, making Sam frown and look over his shoulder.

Malia was standing on the staircase with her fangs bared while her mother was on the opposite side, pointing her gun directly at Stiles and Sam. "Ah, damn.", Stiles mumbled, shaking his head.

Before the bullet could hit either of the two, Sam put up a barrier and pushed it toward the woman. Sam huffed and looked around, her eyes catching Malia. "You okay?", she asked. Malia nodded.

"Yeah– look out!", Stiles takes Sam in his arms, ducking her out of the way as Corrine attacks Malia.

They ducked as Malia groaned, clattering on the glass coffee table, causing it to shatter.

Corinne threw Malia into the wall, and glared at her. Sam and Stiles watched as Corinne turned towards them, grinning. "You should've brought your bat.", Sam muttered, and shifted, growling at the woman.

"Hm. You're new.", Corrine said, turning to attack Sam. Before she could, Stiles moved in front of Sam, ready to send a punch to the woman. "No, you don't!"

Corrine dodged and backhanded him onto the floor, landing him in the shards of glass from the coffee table. "Stiles!", Sam exclaimed, not seeing him move.

Sam let out a loud growl, bringing the woman's shadow toward her before sending a punch in the woman's face, slamming her back against the wall next to Malia.

Stiles rolled over coughing and Sam rushed to him. "Hey.", she called, helping him on his back. Her eyes widened at the large glass shard in his shoulder. His blood was spreading fast. "Shit.", she muttered. He groaned. "Just get the talons.", Stiles said.

They jumped at the sound of a gunshot and saw Malia holding her bloodied shoulder as her mother aimed a pistol at her and continued to shoot.

Sam hurriedly got the talons, and looked at Malia. "Malia, catch!", Sam called, gaining the werecoyote's attention and threw the talons to her. Malia hurriedly caught the talons and put them onto her palm.

Her mother stormed over to her and plunged her claws into the girl's stomach as her eyes brightened blue.

Malia groaned, clenching her jaw tightly. "I want my power back!" Her mother growled.

Malia put the claws on and let the jar fall to the floor. Malia growled back and plunged her own claws into her mother's stomach, making the talons illuminate a pale blue color. Malia huffed as her blue eyes brightened more than before. "I want my family back.", she declared. 

Corinne gasped, her glowing eyes dimmed as Malia removed her from the talons, making her stumble back. Braeden rushed behind her, and before Corrine could run, Braeden brought the butt of her shotgun and slammed it in her face, knocking her out.

Sam let out a sigh and gave Braeden a nod. 

"Can someone please come and take this gigantic shard of glass out of my chest? Please?", Stiles said, making Sam chuckle and kneel down to him. 

Sam placed a hand on his unharmed shoulder and looked at him as she reached for the shard. "Take a deep breath."

"On three.", Stiles said hurriedly. Sam rolled her eyes. "One."

"Two." Stiles let out a loud yell as Sam yanked it out. She hurriedly healed him as he whined. "We were supposed to go three.", he frowned.

Sam shook her head, helping him up.

After leaving the house, Sam, Stiles, Braeden and Malia were notified that the beast was finally taken care of and Theo was taken to hell by his dead sister who Kira revived.

"Dammit, I wish I could've seen that!", Sam complained. "You're so weird!", Stiles exclaimed as he drove them home.

[melancholicmarionette]

Hello, it’s me. I’ve decided to call this Out of the Woods, because it’s ironic.

I’m on vacation rn so updates may be slower.

TW: profanity, government imprisonment, mention of minion Facebook memes

Prev

—

It was so cold she could see her breath.

If asked how she got into her new 5x5 concrete accommodations, Sam would have to say she didn’t remember. Based on her lightheadedness, sedation had something to do with it. Last she recalled she was with Danny and Tucker, but now she was alone, looking at a steel door with a single glass window, her main obstacle.

She ought to be panicking more, she was well aware. But some anxious people made lists, some had hobbies like knitting or crochet, but Sam’s anxiety manifested by forcing her to ponder the worst case scenario and possible escape plans of every situation that could ever happen ever, and some that seemed impossible. She’d already scanned the room for vents, no dice. She looked on every wall for some kind of logo, some kind of indicator of where she was. She paced the interior, feeling along the cement walls, looking for…

Looking for something. Anything.

When there was a knock on the steel door she jumped, her body tensing, ready to fight. She was imprisoned, who had the nerve to knock?

The door opened, the hinges creaking ominously, like the weight of the door fatigued them into screaming. A woman was in the doorway, dressed in a pristine white suit with only a black tie and shoes contrasting. Her blonde hair was in a tight bun, her eyes obscured by sunglasses, and on her lapel was a pin, the length of a name tag but only bearing the letter M.

Shit.

“Samantha,” the woman—M—said, her voice too ravaged by cigarettes to carry the condescending tone she was going for. “You’re awake.”

“Where am I?”

“Ah, right to it, then,” M said, her face emotionless. “Guys In White facility A-9310. My name is M.”

“Stretching the definition of a name,” Sam snapped, she couldn’t help it. It was that or ‘you a Guy in White?’ comment, which seemed a little too heteronormative. “Follow up question, why am I here?”

M pursed her lips, as though wondering how much she could say. From an adult, this was never a good sign.

“The exact reason is undisclosed to me,” M said, “you have been seen associating with a rather serious person of interest.”

“You all were told to leave him alone,” Sam said. There wasn’t any denying that Danny was their target. “By your bosses—he’s not who you’re convinced he is.”

“Our ecto-detectors imply otherwise,” M said, “on all three of you.”

Sam’s breath hitched, and she knew her glare broke for a second because M smirked for the first time.

“You’ve got a good poker face, I’ll admit,” M said, “it’s unsafe for us to allow you three to continue existing among normal humans. You won’t be missed.”

-

Sam awoke with a gasp, cold sweat trailing down her temples.

For the second time in far too short of a period, she awoke somewhere she didn’t recognize. The lumpy, pale blue bay window seat she found herself on wasn’t nearly as sinister as the alternative, but it wasn’t less confusing.

Question: where the hell was she now?

Answer: uh.

She sat up, and was forced to remember the previous night in the way her muscles ached and her arm stung. And her head—God, her head. Her entire face, really. One of her eyes felt swollen, and she when her hand grazed her cheek she felt the sting of a large gash held closed with medical tape.

Medical tape that she hadn’t gotten from the lab infirmary. What was…

The room—a bedroom, came into proper focus, the walls a muted teal, a bright orange bedspread over a full bed, and purple plush carpet. A bit of a mess, visually, the taste was wanting.

A flicker of last night phased her, and all she could think was goddammit this is Star Benson’s bedroom.

“Shit,” she hissed. She had more swears lined up, ready to go. Her brain did the math—what were the odds she could jump out of this second story window without breaking her legs? Could she sneak out some other way, get to Jazz’s apartment, rescue the boys and then gaslight Paulina and Star into madness the next time she saw them?

That wasn’t a plan. Nothing was a plan—she had no plan, she hadn’t had a goddamn good idea in the last 72 hours. She was out of the facility. The boys were still inside. Now what? The boys were inside there.

They were still in there. She was out. Now. What. Manson?

Jazz. The answer was Jazz—she couldn’t get any Fenton gear directly without revealing she was no longer missing, and that likely meant police involvement and—

They protected each other. That’s what she had learned, they all protected each other.

She was up, off the window bench, and felt alien in her own skin. She hadn’t showered since they day they’d been taken, nor changed her clothes—they attempted to get her in one of those hospital gowns but fat chance. Moving with stiff, bruised muscles was hard enough, doing it covered in a layer of sweat, dirt, and dried blood was torture.

She found the nearest bathroom, decorated with a beach theme down to the soaps, and took a look at herself.

“Ugh,” she said. Hurting her own feelings a bit. She washed her face, rinsed her mouth of blood, and became stuck again. She stared at her own reflection again, taking note of the taped-up gash that, at that moment, looked too thin and shallow to bother dressing. It had to have looked worse last night. Much worse.

it’s unsafe for us to allow you three to continue existing among normal humans.

She was so fucking hosed it wasn’t funny.

Get to Jazz. Eye on the goal: Jazz will…probably know what to do.

-

Sam’s existential mirror crisis managed to make her forget that she was in someone else’s house, and if she wanted to leave she’d have to sneak. So when she reached the top of the stairs and Star made eye contact with her from the couch that the balcony overlooked, spoon halfway in between açaí bowl and mouth.

“You’re up.” Paulina was the one who spoke, matter-of-factly, when Sam and Star’s staring contest didn’t seem to be resulting in an actual interaction. She paused for a long moment, and then, “you look like shit.”

“Feel like shit,” Sam nodded. She was aware of the way her face was twisting as she tried to force out what felt like acid in her throat. “…Thank you. For your…help.”

“Oh god—don’t be nice to me, it’s weird,” Paulina said. Sam felt a weight fall off her shoulders. “Fenton should be here soon—Jazz, I mean.”

“What?” Sam asked, leaning forward onto the balcony before pushing back when it felt like she’d been stabbed. “Shit…”

“Yeah, you said your ribs were broken last night,” Star told her, “or, like—what you said was ‘my chest feels crunchy’ and I assumed that’s what you meant.”

“I—yeah,” Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, resigned to how many Danny-isms she had incorporated into her vocabulary. “Yeah that’s what that means, approximately.” She took a second to cope with the fact that if her ribs were indeed broken last night, the no longer seemed to be—just badly bruised. “Anyway, you had Jazz’s number?”

“No, I had to log into Facebook and message her, like an animal,” Paulina groaned, “I saw memes my uncle posted, those little minions things with guns photoshopped into their little hands—darkest Saturday morning of my life.”

“I don’t…” Sam’s thoughts screeched to a halt, filling instead with ‘???’ “you didn’t have to—I would’ve figured it out…” Maybe. Probably.

“Manson, need I remind you—“

“You do need. Concussed.”

“Yeah, okay—you said, and I quote, ‘I promise I’ll tell you, but I need help,’ and so we helped. I helped because I have been awake all damn night thinking about what the hell is going on, I have to know.”

“She’s really not this vulnerable normally,” Star added, looking at Sam with an expression distressingly sincere, “she’s really being open with you, here.”

Of course. Of course she said that, and of course Paulina Sanchez, whose lifeblood was gossip, who thrived on other people’s business like a plant with the sun, would not let it go.

Sam avoided Paulina’s stare, eventually looking at Star.

“Can I take a shower first?”

[mingis-lightbulb]

A Dream Is A Nightmare

Yandere! Choi San x Reader x Yandere! Choi Jongho

Summary: The royals are having a ball for their boys to find them wives. Of course (y/n) a bright and young girl wanted to go, but her mother did everything in her power to stop he form going. But was it for good reason or just greed? Were the royals hiding something behind their clean and pristine imagine?

Warnings: Yandere San and Jongho, abuse (both physical and Mental), death, murder, manipulation, slight stockholm syndrome, royalty au, twisted fairytale au.

Taglist: @mingissoggywaffles @damissub @yungisstar1117 @beomnoi @justforyookihyun @wooyoungsbae @blessednhighlyfavoured @do-you-actually-care @winterciella @soft-teddybear @sanraes

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When you wish upon a star, your dreams will eventually come true.

I’ve been wishing for years, still hoping for a miracle, wishing that something would change

“Y/n!!”

Maybe i’ll get my own happy ending, prince charming that’ll come and rescue me from this hellhole.

“Y/n L/n!! Bring your ass down here right now!!”

I sighed softly as I climbed out of my comfortable bed, dusting myself off and heading up to the living room. I took a deep breath, preparing for the screeching that I would face. When i reached the room, my stepmother, Amanda (sorry if that's your name!), was standing with her arms crossed, a scowl on her face. I opened my mouth to speak but she marched up and brought her hand across my face, her rings leaving a small gash on my face.

“You ungrateful bitch! When I call you, you better answer! Now get to work before I fling you to the dogs!” she threatened, I quickly got up and scurried off to the kitchen to start my day. I held my cheek, trying to stop the bleeding , wincing as I leaned over the sink to run cold water on the wound.

I hate my life, to put in simple terms.

Ever since my father passed away things have been hell, my Step-Mother took over the house and fortune, not letting me have anything at all, everything going to her banshee daughters. Samantha was the worst of the two, she purposely mod your life hell, ripping my clothes, pouring/wasting her food on me, hitting me, the lift goes on. Miranda went for a more word based approach. Seh constantly told me I was ugly and beneath her, always blaming me for my fathers death, telling me that no one would ever want me because I’m just a dirty maid.

And that I could never say anything because that would end in me getting abused by their mother and locked in the basement for days without food. I could not win in this house, It was everyone in this house against me and I was always losing. After putting a bandage over my wound, I went to prepare brunch for the ungrateful family, quickly preparing it and bringing it into the dining room. As I move to the room, I hum a slight tune, trying to keep my spirits up, knowing one day I would make it out. “Ugh, about time you arrived you wasteful urchin.” Amanda sneered as i placed the tray on the table and stepped back. The two pigheaded daughters began digging in the food. “Girls, Girls! You’re behaving unladylike! How are you going to attract the princes like this!” my ears perked up at the mentions of the princes.

The land of Utopia was ruled by the King, but he had two sons that looking for brides. I cleared my throat “U-um mother, are the princes having a ball?” I asked scared a bit. Amanda smirked and chuckles softly, “Of course, They have invited all the eligible women in the land to attend” She said in a sickeningly sweet tone, my step sisters laughed amongst themselves. I gripped the side of my dress, working up courage. “M-may I go mother I know I don’t have a dress but i’ll find something-” I was stopped by all of them laughing at me. “Oh you stupid, ignorant little girl, balls aren’t for maids, They are for sophisticated women who have things to offer to the princes” She said, “Yeah! Mother says that the princes will marry us and we’ll move to the palace,” Samantha said with an evil smirk on her face. Miranda joined in, looking me straight in the eyes. “And we are going to leave you here to waste away as we become royalty like we deserve.” She said, her voice dripping venom.

I felt tears well up in my eyes as I held my head down, I could hear Amanda walk over to me, placing her hands on my cheeks. She raised my face, a slight look of care in her eyes, as if she was begging me not to go. “Y/n. Do not go to this ball. You do not have anything to offer to the royals, unlike my daughters.” She says sternly and I just nodded, turning to runback to my room as tears began to fall from my eyes.

As soon as I reached my bed laid myself down on it, allowing my tears to fall freely. “I-i can go, I can be the woman that the princes would want.” I told myself, burying my face into the pillows, crying out. My father always told me that I was a princess, that I was made to be something better, and once he passed away, all my happiness went with him. I lifted up out of the pillows, with a look a look of determination, marching over to my notebook, I opened it to a dress my mother designed but never made. I grab my sewing materials and get fabric as I decided to get to work.

“I’ll show them, I’ll show that I can be royalty.”

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After about 5 hours of working on my dress, I finally tried it on and excitedly cheered as I looked at myself in the mirror, the dress was a pretty light green ball gown dress with a sweetheart necklace, I felt proud of myself and made my way upstairs to show of my dress to Amanda, hoping it would change her mind. I happily giggle as I find my step mother and sisters getting ready in the bathroom. “Mother! Mother, I look! I made a dress!” I said excitedly, giving a twirl. I actually saw a glimpse of a smile on her face and she was about to speak before Samantha and Miranda interrupted her. Miranda grabbed scissors and and began to cut away at my dress as Samantha threw ink on it, adding insult to injury.

“You aren’t going anywhere! The princess want real women!”

“And you are nothing, but a measly servant! Not a proper woman!”

They contiuned to ruin my dress as I begged and yelled for them to stop, only mkaing them laugh at me and continue the torment. My step-mother watched before calling her daughters. “Stop it. The carriage is here girls.” She said flat, the two girls smirked at their work and turne daway, heading out to the carriage. My gave me a mixed look, as if it said ‘I told you so’ before leaving out with her daughters, leaving me on the ground, covered in ink and torn fabric. I managed to stand up and wobbled over to the outside garden, tears welling up and trickling dow my face. I wiped my eyes as I went to sit down on the fountain, letting my sobs just go.

“Why..Why..” I sobbed out, placing my head in my hands as I had completely given up. I can;t win when it comes to this family, thewy always found a way to ruin my plans. Leaving me unhappy and continuously living in their shadow.

“Oh Honey, What are yu crying for?” A soft voice called out. I lift my head confused, looking around until my eyes landed on a woman standing there. She was wearing a mermaid gown that was a beautiful gold, she wore a kind smile on her face as she slowly walked over to you. “You want to go to the ball so bad don’t you young one?” She asked, I nodded slowly and she chuckled. “Well you can’t go looking like that!” I blushed softly as I looked down at my ruined dress. She simply waved her hand humming something to herschel before snapping her fingers.

I was covered in a brihgt shine of light before it cleared. I looked down at my dress with a small gasp, my ruined dress was replaced by a beautiful black tight fitting dress that had a hint of red along the bottom, roses adorned on my waist and a beautiful choker on my neck. “Oh! And Don’t forget the heels!” She cheered happily. I lifted my dress to gaze down at my feet, seeing them covered in pretty crystal glass shoes. I squealed happily as I twirled around, glitter circling me as I did. “It’s so pretty! Thank you so much-” “Jaehee, I’m Jaehee, Your fairy godmother~ And i’m not done yet!” Jaehee says before working her magic again, turning a pumpkin nearby into a carriage and a few mice running around into some horses and Jaehee herself hopped up to drive the carriage herself.

“Your carriage is awaits my dear~” Jaehee said, ushering me into the carriage, I climb in happily, excited that my child hood dream was about to come true.

I was giddy all the way there, thinking about all the fun people I would meet, all the food I would eat, and hell maybe I will meet one of the princes if i was lucky. I was so in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice we had arrived until Jaehee opened the door. I jumped, making Jaehee laugh as she helped me out of the carriage, leading me into the large palace. I smiled happily as we entered, gazing at all of the people and decorations. Jaehee tapped my shoulder and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “ When the clock strikes 12:00, I’ll be waiting out here, The magic will fade, we will leave here. “ I nodded before heading off into the crowd to go mingle with the crowd.

I smile as people gave me compliments on my dress, making small talk with me, I was happily talking with a women until someone grabbed my hand. I looked up and felt a blush rise to my face. An attractive male with a gummy smile on his face, he had jet black hair and beautiful brown eyes, he wore a whitew suit adorned with gold and silver pieces. “Greetings, may I have this dance with you?” He asked and I nodded. “May I know your name? He asks, “My name is Y/n,” I answered. “Such a beautiful name.” His hand that was on my shoulder dropped down to my back to pull me closer. “What are you doing here? Do you wish to marry one of the princes?” He asked with a playful smile.

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Maybe, if i’m worthy of his presence.” I say jokingly and he chuckles. He pulls me closer until our faces are close together. “I think that you’re worthy of me. My Princess, can I steal you away?~” I blush at the sudden closeness as we danced around the ballroom, his eyes only focused on me. I didn’t notice it until we reached the middle of the crowd that people were looking at us.

Thats when it hit me.

“W-wait...are you?” “A prince? Yes, prince Jongho, my darling. Is that a bad thing?”Jongho asked, tilting his head to the side, a smile on his face. It still took my brain a few moments to realise I was dancing with one of the crown princes, just sitting here having casual conversation, WITH THE FUCKING PRINCE. I was freaking out and I slowly pulled away from Jongho, making him give a confused look. “Where are you going?” he asked and I quickly turned on my heel and took off in the crowd, ignoring the gasps, glares and stares. He was following close behind me, calling my name, I quickly ducked and weaved my way through the people, hoping that he would get stopped by someone. And luckily he did, Miranda popped up and pulled him away from me.

“W-wait! Princes come back! Unhand me!” Jongho yelled as I continued to run through the crowd. I ran and ran until I made it to the courtyard. I leaned on a pillar to catch my bretah and took time to look back, seeing the moving around with no sign of the prince. I took a deep breath and slide down to the ground, resting for the first time this night. “God, Maybe mother was right, I shouldn’t have come here…” I started sighing as I covered my face. “I’m not made for the princes, I don’t know anything about royalty” I mumbled, trying not to cry. I could hear soft footsteps coming towards me and I kept my head down. The footsteps come up to me and stopped.

“Are you okay? It’s cold out here?’

I looked up to meet kind brown eyes, a male with short blue hair, an all black suit with some accents of gold. He gave a gentle smile before crouching down in front of me. “The ball got too overwhelming?” I nod slightly and he chuckles. “I understand. I hate balls too.” He says. “Why’d you come then?” I ask with a cocked eyebrow. “My mother made me. I had to come along or else she’ll flip, you?” “I came here to get out of my home, my mom is overbearing.” The male nods in response, he sat beside me, grabbing my hand and gently running his fingers along the back of mine. “Well, and can get to know each other, and avoid the crowd here.” He chuckled softly and giggled as well. He was such a gentle and kind guy, he seemed caring and listneing. Never failing to make me feel safe in this small time we had together.

I just seemed so enarmored by him, like something me was pulling me towards him and I couldn’t put a finger on it. I found myself staring at his lips, seeing how pretty and plump they were, a soft blush coming across my face as my eyes raised to meet his. He smirked a bit before leaning forward, placing his lips upon mine. They felt as soft of they looked, and I couldn’t help but kiss back. He ended up pulling me into his lap, deepening the shared kiss, and I could feel fireworks going off in my head. Just like that, someone had gotten my first kiss, not that I minded, Hell, I needed to live a little after being cooped up in that house.

I pulled away first, being spooked a bit by the chime of the clock, I glanced over in the distance, seeing that it was 5 till 12. I hurriedly got up, knowing that our short time together was coming to an end. I stood up straight with him following suit, “where are you going?” He asked, echoing the same phrase that I had heard from Prince Jongho earlier. I gave him a soft smile, “U-um, I’m going home, it’s quite late and my mother will have my head if i’m late.” I said, beginning to walk away, He grabs my hand, a soft look on his face as he stopped me from leaving. “Can I atleast get your name, I want to find you again.” “Not until you give me yours first.” I say quickly, pulling my hand away from his. He looks at me before chuckling to himself.

“San, My name is Choi San.”

I could feel my heart sink down to my stomach.

Our land was ruled by a King, though his two sons would soon be taking over. San was the oldest of the two, he was stunning, smart and the most sought after of the two. He was the reason they had to have a ball, as his orignial suitor only wanted him for money and power. While Jongho was the younger brother, he was kind and adorable, his kindness often being taken for granted. He was just as attractive as his brtoher but woman seemed to take him for granted and not seeing him in the same light that they saw San.

I began backing away, San walked forward. “You’re different. You treated me like a human being, Not some way into success!” He said. “And that kiss we shared. I felt a spark between us, like it was almost destiny for us to be together!” He yelled, sounding nearly crazed. I whipped around quickly and started to run. “Why are you running?! We can be something amazing. We are going to be something!” I heard San yell, I did not care. I was not fit to be Queen or anytype of royalty at all. I just wanted to get out and enjoy myself for one night. I was not made for this life. And granted I did feel something towards the princes, the moments I shared with them lighting something deep in me, but I was not worthy of being theirs.

“I’m sorry your highness! Please find someone else!” I yelled to him. San stopped in his tracks before taking off after me himself, barking orders to nearby guards. “ You are the one I want! You will become my wife!”

I was booking it in my heels, trying so hard to keep a distance between San and I. When I reached the stairs, I began running down them only to trip over the bottom of my dress, calling the rest of the rest of the way down. When I hit the bottom, I cried out in pain, there was a sharp pain shooting up my arm as I looked down to see a deep gash on it. I could hear San gasp as he near the top of the stairs. He looked down at me and worry filled his eyes, “My Darling! Stay right there! Don’t move!” San yelled out rushing down to me. I managed to get to my feet, realising a shoe came off when I fell and was resting on the stairs. I shook my head, deciding to leave it and hurried away to my carriage holding my arm, the large clock striking twelve.

“You’re hurt! Stop! Stop running Dammit! Stop her!” I ran and hopped in the carriage spooking Jaehee as she was reading. “Oh my dear, is it 12-” “Go!, Let’s go!” Hearing the urgency in my voice She quickly nodded, hopping out and getting up to the reigns, snapping them. I watched as San yelled to the guards surrounding him as he held my single glass shoe in his hands.

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That next morning was hell, as I was trying to cook breakfast with my arm hiddened. Meanwhile my family were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. “Y/n! Get in here now!” I sighed heavily and walked from the kitchen to the living wondering what I was going to get yelled at for. Not expecting Miranda to be holding my glass shoe in her hands with a wicked smirk on her face.

My step mother stood up and marched over to me, jacking me up by the collar. “I told you not to go to that damned ball! Now you got the princes looking for your peasant ass you worthless bithc!” She screamed, pushing me back into a vase, breaking it and sending shards into my back. I cried out in pain as she shoved me into the ground. “When the royal guard comes, you better tell them that it was not you. I refuse to let an urchin like you wiggled their way into the castle. ‘ She growled, kicking me in my injured arm. I winced in pain and could hear my step sisters laughing at me, tears welling up in my eyes.

Here I thought that maybe my step mother felt bad for me, that she only wanted the best for me. But at the end of the day, she only wanted the best for her own daughters. There was a sudden sharp knock at the door. My stepmother forced me up and pushed me towards the door, giving me a look that said ‘You better do as I say.’. I hold back my tears and swallow my pride as I open the door. I let out a soft gasp, Prince Jongho and San stood there with two royal guards behind them. Jongho quickly pulled me into his arms, making me wince and freeze up.

“Y/n! We’ve found you aft- o-oh my! What happened!?” He let out, looking over at my injuries. I simply shook my head. “Y-your highness, I’m sorry. I am not the one for you, I am nowhere near prepared fo-” “Shh.,Shh.., don’t say that love, don’t say that. Jongho quickly cut me off “Who did this to you? Who dared lay a finger on you?” He asked before his eyes drifted to your arguing sisters. Their attention went from each other to me, their faces turning red at seeing me in the arms of one of the Princes.

“What are you doing you urchin!? Get your dirty hands off of the prince! Miranda screeches as she marches over and snacthes me out of Jongho’s grip. She flung me to the ground, making me land on the back, shards from the vase pushing deeper in making me cry out in pain. She placed herself infront of him. “DOn’t waste your time with trash your highness! I would be an amazon-” Miranda suddenly stopped talking, falling flat on her back near me. I screamed as she had a hunting knife lodged deep in her chest, leaving her sputtering and coughing up blood. I backed away seeing Prince San emerge from behind Jongho. “Y/n...such a beautiful name for a lovely girl.” He says looking at me, eyes filled with nothing but love. “Jongho told me your name and I found your home. Princess, if your home life was so awful why did you run?” San asked as he stepped closer to me. As he stepped over my dying sister, his smile dissappears and a scowl was there as he stomped on the knife lodged in her chest, pushing it deeper until he hit the ground. He continued walking over to me, kneeling infront of me, he placed his hand on my cheek, and I leaned into his touch.

I couldn’t even fight what I was doing, this man just killed my step-sister. But the way he and Prince Jongho looked at me with such lover, that I wanted nothing more than to run away with them. They promised me a new life, salvation from my abusers. “C-can..Can I come with you?” I croak out and San smiles at me, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Of course, let us get you up. God I hate that they did this to you.” San says as he pulled me back to my feet, making sure to be gentle with my back.

Quick footsteps came running in and screaming started. “What have you done to my daughter!? You disgusting bitch.” She screeched. “I did it. Your daughter disrespected me.” San said bluntly, catching my step mother off guard. “Now. Raise your voice at my Queen again and you won’t like.” San warned and Jongho walked up to me, holding me in his arms, whispering sweet things to calm me down. “What!? But your majesty she’s not-” “Yeah! I’m ready for marriage your highness! Please chose me-” Jongho smiled at me before covering my eyes.. “I don’t want you to see this my love, come on. Let me get you to the carriage and San will join us!”

I was distracted by the blood curdling screams of my family, two loud thumps were heard against the ground as two hands cupped my cheeks. “Jongho uncover her eyes.” Jongho moves his hands and San smiles at me, blood splashed across his face and suit as he places his lips against mine. “We have much preparation for our big day. And don’t worry about your fathers things, we’ll get all of his things and leave their shit.” San says smiling and I nodded a small smile grazing my lips.

I was finally going to be royalty, and my dream was coming true.

And my family can no longer get in my way.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Gaurdian Ch:1 A Cold Winter’s Night

Alright it’s time! Gaurdian Chapter 1 for Tumblr. I’ll be posting the rest every Wensday until its complete. Love ya!

January 1971

Samantha peered out Thomas’s cab window as he raced along his line through the night. The cold January air swirled through the cab, making her grateful for Thomas’s fire as she heard him humming contentedly along with the rails beneath him. They were making good time from Dryaw on the last westward run of the night, and she was ready for the return run to Ffarquhar and her warm bed. Being No.1’s driver was a dream come true, but the late night runs were still difficult, especially in winter.

‘At least there's no snow,’ She thought, ‘so we have a clear run ahead of us.

But as soon as the thought had cleared her mind, she felt Thomas tense, a tautness beneath her feet. He began to brake, slowing the train. She asked what was wrong but he seemed not to hear her.    

She glanced over at Nicole, but her fireman had no idea what was wrong either. Samantha closed the regulator and allowed Thomas to bring the train to a stop before a clear signal, its glowing green light flickering eerily through the mists in the low valley. The only audible sound was the soft hiss of steam escaping from the valves. She was about to ask again when Thomas finally spoke.

“Stay in the cab, no matter what happens,” the tank engine whispered tersely, his normally chipper tone nowhere to be found, his eyes scanning ahead of him before settling on a distant point beyond his crew's senses. “ Don’t draw attention to yourselves unless I do so first.” In the abnormally quiet night the sound of the coach's doors locking may as well have been gunshots.

“Thomas what's wrong, you're scaring us….” Samantha trailed off as, in the distance, a high dissonant whistle sounded faintly.

Nicole met her eyes and said in horror, “ There's not supposed to be any other there trains on the line!”  The whistle sounded again, far closer as Samantha dove for the reverser, even as she realized there was no way Thomas could accelerate quickly enough to avoid the oncoming train. Nicole hauled back on Thomas' whistle desperately as a light raced around a bend ahead of them, the other engines' haunting tone replying near instantly. Samantha threw the throttle wide open and braced as the other engines brakes came on with a creaked scream. Samantha shut her eyes with the other engine mere meters from Thomas, sparks flying from its wheels.

Seconds past, and Samantha slowly opened her eyes to meet Nicole's across the cab then slowly turned to look through the front cab windows as she closed the throttle. Mere inches from Thomas' buffers stood an engine unlike any she had seen before. While many of the other railways engines were in various states of disrepair, this engine made a scrapyard seem kind. Snow and rust covered the engine, in some places holes and gashes marred the footplate and boiler, steam lazily escaping before being blown away by a non-existent breeze. The frames were bent out of shape, arching up behind the smokebox in a twisted parody of the wheel arches behind. The funnel lay nearly perpendicular to the ground, and was nearly shorn in two. The cab was gone, torn off in whatever long forgotten calamity befell the engine and the tender was outright missing. The smokebox was a blank piece of metal with a red lamp seeming to peer at them from the center. Despite this, she still recognized the shapes before her. A stirling single stood before them, wavering whenever a part was focused on for too long.