#spoilers its samiel

[thecertifiedboykisser]

Fuck it, tumblr exclusive Dpcu headcannons (sleep edition!)

Samiel has the most intensive sleep routine that has even more steps than his moring routine.

Samiel also sleeps in the fanciest and extragent robe ever.

SB sleeps only in his boxers.

Samiel and Sb are so fucking codependent on one another now they have a very hard time falling asleep without the other (Sb just has trouble sleeping alone in general ever since the war I heaven)

Ilyian is almost completely silent when he sleeps (a habit he built up over the last thousand years)

Micheal will fall asleep at like 8 pm. The earliest he's ever gone to bed was 6. (He is not a night person)

The custodian occasionally has nightmares themself (normally revolving arius), and they just stay up after them.

Samiel mumbles in his sleep, and it is the cutest thing ever (semi cannon! Atlest when he's drunk, lol)

Sb runs extremely warm and kicks blankets off of him while he sleeps so he doesn't overheat

Micheal is the biggest cuddlebug. If he falls asleep next to someone, they will be grabbed and can not leave until he wakes up.

Samiel runs cold and requires all the heat he can get while sleeping (he doesn't mind being cold while he's awake. He's used to it)

The custodian will kick someone if they try and touch them while they are asleep (they have zero recollection of it afterwards.)

Sb is so used to wearing their glasses that when he wakes up, he is incredibly confused about why the world looks so blurry until someone points out he isn't wearing his glasses

Ilyian (who has very long hair that's normally up in a bun) will either let his hair down to sleep or braid it.

Ilyian is a very light sleeper!

Et fin!:) (No zazzy this time)

[yourfriendlytabibito]

Dehya: Bringer of Hope

Spoiler Warning: Please watch her character teaser and finish her story quest before reading this post. Thanks!

The Eremites are a group of mercenaries from the scorching deserts of Sumeru. They took on several jobs like escorting merchant caravans, working as private bodyguards, and others. Among them is the Flame-Mane Dehya, famous for her excellent work ethic and survival instincts. Because of her skills, Dehya is sought after by many merchants including Dori. But despite her intimidating appearance, she is a person with a heart of gold and sympathy for others. She is also loyal towards her clients and friends. In a profession where money does all the talking, Dehya is a rare gem.

Though her father, a mercenary leader, wanted her to be free of the mercenary life, Dehya became a mercenary herself and left her father's brigade. She rose up the ranks and became one of the most sought after mercenaries in Sumeru. The reason why she left was because of an issue she had with her dad who is an alcoholic and a pervert. He would chase women and drink wine all day until he's fallen into a drunken stupor. He was also fond of hero stories and would often force her to play the lead role. But little Dehya has no clue about what goes in the background.

Her father's mercenary troupe, the Dakar Al-Ahmar, was under the brigade of Deshret's Relics. Seeing that Kusayla did not register Dehya as a member of his mercenary troupe, Deshret's Relics had no information on her. When interrogated about this discrepancy, Kusayla would lie and thus, would receive a beating from one of its members. The beatings would eventually cripple Kusayla to the point where he had to use a cane to walk.

Deshret's Relics kept tabs on all of the troupes under their brigade. These records would be used for blackmailing its members in order for them to secure loyalty amongst the many groups under their jurisdiction. Kusayla knew this and so, he sneaked into the headquarters of Deshret's Relics, went into the records room, and set it on fire. This happened when Dehya left and joined the Blazing Beasts.

Upon learning her father's fate and the involvement of Dunyarzad's father in supplying Kusayla's troupe with weapons and medicine, Dehya and the Traveler went to the headquarters of Deshret's Relics and defeated its members one by one. Then when the battle ended, she went to the records room and found the toy sword he gave her. She gave a speech afterwards, the very speech in the play her father loved very much. It was a bittersweet moment for Dehya, knowing that Kusayla did everything he could to protect her. And yet, she viewed him as nothing but a scoundrel. It was one of many regrets she has.

The reason why the title of this article is written as such was because of the aftermath of Dehya's character teaser. Chinese players donated money to charities dedicated to helping children, just like how Dehya donated all of her savings to help the children of the desert to get access to education. She named that trust fund "The Wall of Hope", the reason being the true purpose of the Wall of Samiel surrounding Caravan Ribat. It was meant to protect the forests from sandstorms rather than something that keep desert people out like previously believed.

It warms my heart that despite issues with her kit and gameplay, Dehya's character inspired other people to take action and make a difference. It may not mean much, but it's great to know that there's still good left in the world. And Dehya is a proof of that.

[fruitzbat]

This is gonna be SUPER UNFRIENDLY TO PEOPLE NOT CAUGHT UP Y’ALL ARE

WARNED.

I’m also not dividing these up by character. There’s method, but it’s mine.

Tess- EYE, because I don’t know what color her eyes are and it seems like a fun one for her.

Felaun- GHOST, which I ask primarily because I feel like we don’t get his personal takes on a lot of the stuff with Giada being a revenant or her necromancy. Like presumably he doesn’t care but I’m interested if he has any opinion on that stuff at all.

Penny- ANGER. Just ‘cause.

Giada- Pancake, which I’m using as an excuse to make you talk about Nurari food.

Sidge- Bouquet, because I want to imagine someone drawing fanart of Sidge framed by flowers. This is hilarious to me. SOMEONE WOULD. (I would.)

Dietrich- See-No-Evil, because we’ve seen so much of this from Zan and I’m curious about D.

Giada- Milky Way

Penny- Scissors

Sidge- Crown (and why that didn’t happen)

Tarma- music note (of course)

ANY- Ribbon, because this is a fun question but I couldn’t decide

ANY- paper clip because I love facts

Cal- Droplet

ALRIGHT, SPOILERS AHEAD!

👁️ EYE - what colour are their eyes? do people notice their eyes? is there anything special about them (shows emotion easily, literally magical...)?

Tess's eyes are like Fjord's: gold, with slit pupils. They're a little wide set on her face.

👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

It cannot be stressed how banal of a life that Felaun led before he met Kingsley et al. I think he rarely encountered anything spooky at all, let alone a ghost and let alone someone like Giada. As I've said in the past, the thing that differentiates Kingsley and Felaun is chiefly Felaun's ability to mind his damn business. If he has an opinion, he's certainly not sharing it.

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

Penny is a prim and proper lady. She is like...very into etiquette, because she had to be, and thinks that other people should be too. On a pirate ship, that means that she corrects people that have their elbows on the table or are using the "wrong" fork. Kingsley thinks that this is hilarious.

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

Giada's favorite breakfast is flatbread with goat cheese, honey, and muramura berries. She takes her coffee black with two sugars, or drinks muralatti if she's too beat to boil water.

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

I imagine that Corsigilian apologists would turn to his manifold unrequited loves/attraction in Samiel, in Kingsley, and in Giada.

So imagine Sidge in a crown of forget-me-nots, framed by mulberry branches.

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Dietrich has a lot of problems with low self-esteem. He'd rather die than anyone know that about him -- he puts on a lot of airs about being confident and such -- but he often rejects before he can be rejected.

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

This should be a post in its own right. If anyone wants me to elaborate on this, I will, but Giada is a three-way expy of Lucien, Pallas Athena, and this character in a bunch of short stories that I wrote about diaspora stuff that I referred to only as "The Crone". These short stories were me getting the wiggles out and will not see the light of day, but basically I was toying with the concept of a person that survived a genocide and was then made to witness the changes in their community afterwards -- for centuries.

To make a long story short, Giada's character and arc is about intergenerational mourning and grief, and learning over again how to become something in the wake of losing all that you defined yourself with and as.

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

Penny...well, I plead the fifth here.

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

Sidge I think, more than anything, wants to be remembered as someone to be feared. And, infuriatingly, he is, but not in the exact way that he wants to be.

🎵 MUSIC NOTE - what is their playlist like? their favourite artists? do you associate a particular song with them?

Tarma is very much based on Stevie Nicks and a certain 1970s glam aesthetic. I see her as listening to a lot of acts like Janis Joplin and Florence + The Machine -- moody, kind of volatile, even when she herself is quite the sunny personality. If there's a song I'd associate with her, it would be "OctaHate" by Ryn Weaver. This doesn't come up in the series, but she was quick to leave the islands for a reason and while it was because of how into Cal she was, she was also recovering from a bad breakup. She's crazy, so she fit right in and the rest was history.

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into other worlds / aus? what aus would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

Oh, I wrote Tholozan and his dragon sickness to be a way to unpack my struggling with the less "palatable" symptoms of illnesses and disabilities like PTSD or autism. I'd happily write a story where that's played straight, though it'd probably get more autobiographical than I would like.

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

Tess's epithet, "the Mouse", is 100% stolen from my little brother's D&D character in my family's short lived campaign. The story she tells Calliope, however, is based on a true one from my time working in an archive in New York.

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

While they count Penny as their best friend, without question, Cal has never really gotten over Penny casting calm emotions on them when their sister died.

[soaimagines]

six months

Gifs not mine, credit to owners/creators.

‼️ MAJOR SEASON 3 SPOILERS ‼️

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Warnings: grief, mourning, loss, depression, language.

Grief plays pretty heavily through out this so please be cautious.

Authors Note: maaaan it has been so long since I’ve written something. I’m still convinced this is trash but I’m gonna post it before I yeeeeeet my laptop out the window. A huge thank you to @littleblogontheprairie , @harringtonhargrovethings and @justabasterd for reading through and encouraging me, I truly appreciate it.

Tagged For:  @yoinkpeter - @samiel-maurice455 - @total-fucktrash - @fangirlinganditswonders - @please-lives-are-at-stake - @house-in-charmingtown-imagines - @blood-on-my-french-fries - @goodiesintheclosetlove - @inlovewithagreaser - @crystalbaby12 - @fairytale-believerxx - @eternalmikaelson - @avahodge - @gingersearchingforsoul - @supernaturallymarvel - @spider–guy - @missblasphemy - @knightwolfdixon - @potatoe69fan -

I used by tag list from when I wrote for Billy ages ago so if you want to be removed/added let me know.

Masterlist

JULY

The trees lining the road blurred into an endless green, your eyes unable to focus as the car moved along the road.

Every now and then your mother would glance over at you, her brows furrowed with concern.

You knew the radio was on; it was always on. Your mother was a sucker for the latest pop hits. But you didn’t hear the music. A dull buzz seemed to take over and it wasn’t til your mother spoke your name for the third time that you actually heard her.

“Y/N? Honey?”

You couldn’t bare to look at her, to see the sympathy and worry in her eyes.

A grunt left your lips in response. You weren’t trying to be rude, you just couldn’t seem to find words.

“Do you want me to pick you up some lunch?” She pressed on gently.

You shook your head, though the movement was subtle. “I’m not hungry.”

Your mother watched as you shifted your body away from her to face the window.

The days events drifted through your mind. The funeral. There was a big turn out, which you’d expect for the ‘King of Hawkins’. The rows had been littered with girls you went to school with, and their mothers, all clad in black. Tears streamed down each of their faces, mascara staining their skin  and you knew if Billy was here he would have rolled his eyes and laughed, though a smug smile would have lingered on his lips.

You wondered if any of them had ever actually spoken to Billy. Probably not.

They didn’t even know him.

They didn’t know that he loved the hair at the back of his neck being played with, or that he liked his coffee black. They didn’t know he knew every fucking word to every Motley Crüe song and that he had an irrational fear of circus clowns. They didn’t know of the bruises that littered his body or the scar on his thigh. They didn’t know about his mother, or his father, and they didn’t know that all he ever really wanted was to be loved. They didn’t know that his laugh, his real laugh, was like summer rain and every time you heard it, no matter the weather,  the sun seemed to shine brighter.

No, they didn’t know him.

Because those things were hidden behind the walls he’d only let down for you.

And so you’d sat next to Max, ignoring the chorus of sobs that echoed through the room and you stared at the coffin, the familiar sense of numbing that you’d felt over the past room intensifying.

The service was a rush, a muddled blur. A few people spoke, droning on about some bullshit that Billy would have hated and before you knew it the door was closing on the hearse and Billy’s body was driven away.

You were brought back to reality when the car engine shut off.

Before your mother could ask how you were doing you slid out of the car and walked to the front door.

Your feet carried you to your bedroom and once the door closed behind you you let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding.

Bloodshot eyes scanned your room. It was the same as you’d left it this morning, but your eyes lingered on the bed.

Suddenly it seemed so.. big.

Your legs carried you forward and you slowly climbed onto the mattress.

As you lay down you closed your eyes and memories washed over you like a wave.

Images of Billy, his hair splayed against the pillow, golden curls framing his head.

The morning sunlight pouring in like marmalade, the trees outside casting shadows across his bare skin and the way his Californian tan contrasted against the white sheets. His lips pressing to your forehead when he woke, before slipping out the window before your parents came in.

His mischievous grin as he climbed through the window nearly every night and dove into the bed.

“Shhh, Billy!” You would hiss.

He would chuckle and grab your hands, pulling you towards him.

“Come here, princess.”

Your eyes flickered open and landed on the empty space next to you.

The space that would no longer feel the weight of his body.

You grabbed the pillow and hugged it tight.

It was faint, the scent of him, but it was there and you breathed it in as the tears began to flow.

AUGUST

The start of senior year wasn’t anything like you had imagined.

“One more year” Billy had told you. “As soon as you graduate we are going to California.”

You held on to that, it’s what pushed you to keep going when all you wanted was to give up. Maybe it was silly; it’s not like he’d be by your side when you crossed that state line, but you knew that you had to do it. For him.

And so you kept going to school, sinking into a familiar routine and drifting through the days as they all blurred into one.

The hallways were the worst. The whispers, the sympathetic looks. Even the laughter; not that it was directed at you. But how could anyone be that happy when the world was so cold and empty.

Many mornings now you had been late, your mind still not registering the fact that you didn’t have your own personal chaperone anymore. You walked into school alone, no arm around your shoulder or hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.

The jealous stares from the girls replaced with sad eyes and sympathetic smiles.

You caught the bus and you drifted through the hallways like paper moving in the wind.

Today was no different and you rummaged through your locker as the bell rang out, signalling the start of class.

With a sigh you pulled out the books you needed and slammed the locker shut  before heading to the classroom.

Desks were already filling and you eyed the rows before spotting one at the back of the room.

You stepped over bags and ignored the eyes on you as you made your way before slumping down into the chair and shifting your focus to the window. It’s not that the scenery was particularly interesting; it wasn’t. You just didn’t want to see any more apologetic smiles, as if they could possibly know what you were going through.

After a minute or two of listening to the teachers monotone voice you shifted in your seat and glanced down at your desk.

Almost immediately something caught your eye, and a breath caught in your throat.

In the corner of the desk was a carving.

A jagged ‘B.H’ with an equally messy carving of your initials underneath.

Your thumb brushed over the carving and you closed your eyes.

He had sat right here, in this seat, in this class.  

You could almost picture it, Billy, slumped in the chair with his legs stretched out, a bored expression on his face.

Billy, sitting next to his friends and laughing as they tossed pieces of crumpled paper into a girls hair.

Billy, huddled over the desk with his pocket knife, etching his initials into the wood before adding the initials of the girl he loved.

Billy, laughing, breathing, living.

Billy.

A tear spilled from your lashes and you stood abruptly, snatching your bag and rushing out of the classroom.

The teacher called after you but you didn’t stop.

You didn’t stop till you’d left the school grounds and you didn’t stop til you’d reached your street.

You didn’t stop til you’d slammed your bedroom door shut and fallen onto your bed and sobs ripped through your chest.

SEPTEMBER

The change in weather was causing havoc on your lips and you searched your room frantically for your chapstick. You searched the dresser and rummaged through your school bag with no luck before kneeling in front of the bedside table.

The drawer squeaked as you pulled it open and you rummaged through the contents.

You grabbed the tube of chapstick and were about to shut the door when you stopped.

The pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes stared back at you and you gingerly lifted the pack.

They had been stashed away for months, shoved to the back of the drawer and forgotten about.

“Just in case.” He winked and slid the drawer shut.

Your breathing quickened as rage took over and you crumpled the packet in your hands.

Without a second thought  you yanked the drawer out of its place and threw it to the corner of the room. It’s contents went flying and scattered across the floor.

You were shaking now, and tears fell steadily as you let out a jagged scream.

You swiped your arm across your bedside table, sending your lamp and alarm clock  crashing to the floor.

Leaping to your feet, your fingers tore at the posters littering your walls and you crumpled them in your hands.

You couldn’t stop,’couldn’t control yourself and the laundry hamper was flung across the room before you set your eyes on your dresser.

The lipsticks, your hairbrush, the bottles of perfume he’d brought you on Valentine’s Day.

All of it went flying as you tore through your room, demolishing anything in sight. Eventually your eyes fell on the mirror.

You stared at your reflection.

Loose strands of hair fell from your ponytail and hung around your face. Mascara stained your cheeks and there was a wild look in your eyes that you didn’t recognise.

An ugly sob tore from your throat and before you could stop yourself you clenched your first and swung.

The mirror shattered almost as fast as your heart had and the shards began to fall as you hit the glass over and over.

With bloodied knuckles and an aching heart you collapsed to the floor, your body curling up into a ball.

The crumpled pack of cigarettes lay next to you and you grabbed them, clutching them to your chest as the sobs took over.

OCTOBER

Music bellowed out into the street, disrupting the otherwise peaceful night.

You stared at the house, various Halloween decorations were scattered across the lawn and an orange glow came from every window.

Why did you let your friends talk you into this?

Before you could change your mind and run home to the comfort of your bedroom, you took a deep breath and walked into the house.

A couple were already making out, pushed up against the wall of the hallway. You shuffled past them, trying not to make any contact.

Scanning the faces of the crowd you searched for your friends.

When your eyes landed on a leather jacket you froze, for a moment, instantly mistaking the stranger for Billy.

His leather jacket had always been a regular feature of his outfits.

He had draped it over your shoulders last October, when the weather was getting colder and you had sacrificed comfort and warmth for the sake of your outfit. You had walked down the street hand in hand, laughing together about the movie you had just seen at the local cinema. But before the two of you could reach his car he had pulled you into the alleyway behind the florist.

A wicked smirk crossed his lips and you had bitten your lip as you leant against the cold bricks. He placed his hands either side of your head and leant in close and leant his forehead against yours.

You remembered how he'd kissed you, so soft and yet so rough, a sense of urgency in his lips. His hands immediately gripping your waist as he pulled you closer and your hands tangling in his hair.

You sighed and scanned the rest of the room, your eyes finally landing on your group of friends.

Shoulders brushed past you as you made your way across the room to the kitchen.

Your friends greeted you and you smiled sheepishly.

“Good to see you dressed up!” Molly said, her voice flat with sarcasm.

“I’m a mouse,” You pointed to the ears on your head. “Duh.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, “Im glad you came.”

You smiled back at her and grabbed a red cup from the stack on the counter.

“Hey, we’re gonna go dance. Do you wanna come?” Molly asked.

You raised an eyebrow as you lifted the ladle and poured some punch into your cup. “Absolutely not. But go ahead, I'm fine.”

Molly nodded and headed off to the dance floor with the rest of the group.

You took a sip from the cup and grimaced. Whoever had spiked this punch had done an awful job, and you wondered just how many stolen bottles of liquor had been added to the bowl.

But you shrugged and took another sip. If you were gonna get through this night, you sure as hell weren't going to do it sober.

The majority of the evening you had spent perched on the edge of the sofa, watching your friends dance. They had tried to drag you onto the dance floor and you had refused each time, though you smiled at them and laughed at their goofy moves.

You were actually enjoying yourself, which surprised you, but you assumed it was mainly because of the punch you had been sipping on all night.

A large commotion outside caught your attention and you looked out to see a group of boys cheering, as they watched Tommy doing a kegstand

You remembered last year, last Halloween at Tina’s party. When you had watched Billy doing a keg stand from the sidelines, rolling your eyes at his bravado. You remembered how a trail of beer had run down his chest, gliding over his toned muscles. How he had caught you looking at him and winked, “You like what you see, Princess?”

You sighed and stood up from the sofa and you made your way to the bowl of punch.

The music was loud and you sung along to it as you filled your cup once more.

Closing your eyes you lifted the cup to your lips, your brows scrunching together as you tasted the concoction.

You didn't want to remember him. Not tonight.

Tonight you wanted to forget.

NOVEMBER

A cold wind sent a shiver down your spine and you pulled your coat tighter around your body.

Your friends laughed beside you and you forced a smile on your face, though you had missed the punchline of the joke.

Molly was sharing with the group how her date with Tommy had gone and you listened half heartedly.

She had been crushing on him for months and you were happy for her, but you didn’t want to hear about anyone else’s love life. Not when yours had ended so tragically.

Another cool gust of wind sent your hands delving deep into your pockets and you frowned slightly.

In the left pocket of your coat you felt a piece of paper and you pulled it out slowly before unfolding it.

As soon as you laid eyes on the  familiar handwriting scrawled across the page your breath caught in your throat.

Tears stung your eyes almost immediately, threatening to spill over but you held them back and read the words.

‘I cant wait to see what you buy, baby. I’ll come over tonight so you can show me. Leave your window open xx’

A smile crossed your lips and you traced over the writing with your finger.

He had slipped the note into your locker on a Friday, and he'd kept true to his words, slipping into your window in the dark of the night with a hungry look in his blue eyes.

The day before you had spent at Billy’s house, listening to music in his room.  You had stood in front of his dresser, studying the bottles of cologne and the photos from his youth. You had told him about your plans to take Max shopping to find a dress for the Snow Ball and he had rolled his eyes, “She’s got a whole wardrobe full of clothes.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes and you’d shook your head. “She needs a dress, Billy. She needs something.. special.”

Billy groaned and sat up. “You’re really gonna hang out with my sister when you could be hanging out with me?”

“Don’t be so jealous.” You snickered. “Besides, maybe I’ll pick something up for myself. Maybe..” Your voice fell off and you stepped in front of him, your hands laying on his shoulders. “Maybe something I can wear just for you.”

His eyes lit up and his tongue ran across his lip as he pulled you into his lap.

“Don’t tease me, princess.” He’d whispered before crashing his lips against yours.

Together you’d fallen back against the sheets and it wasn’t long before you were lost in hushed moans and heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together.

“(Y/N)? You okay?” Molly’s voice interrupted your daydream and you snapped back to reality.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat and shoved the note back into your pocket. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

And you weren’t lying, not entirely.

As you held back tears the memories washed over you and you smiled.

You were okay.

DECEMBER

Christmas Eve. Even from your bedroom you could hear the carollers singing at the front door. You sighed and rolled over, turning the radio on your bedside table up louder.

You used to love Christmas. Loved waking up to fresh snow and wearing your pyjamas all morning. Drinking hot cocoa in front of the fireplace while your mother cooked up a feast in the kitchen.

But you didn’t feel the usual festive spirit this year.

He should be here.

You couldn’t help but think of last years Christmas.

How Billy had come over after dinner,

How he’d kissed you under the mistletoe, his hand tangled in your hair.

His smile, and the way his eyes had sparkled with love, or maybe it was just the reflection of the Christmas lights.

And you’d fallen asleep in his arms, your legs intertwined  and your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat your own personal lullaby.

At that memory you sat up, the full realisation that you’d never hear that sound again hit you like a truck and you clutched at your chest. Begging and pleading for God, or anyone that would listen to stop this ache that consumed you. To bring him back.

You took a deep breath and slid off the bed.

A walk would do you good. So you slipped on your boots, pulled on your coat and left the house, without a destination in mind.

Your legs seemed to make up their own mind as they carried you along the road.

Maybe deep down you knew where you were going. You’d wanted to go there for a while now but you had been scared. Scared that it would only remind you of how much you had lost.

The night was quiet and it wasn’t long before you reached your destinations

4819 Cherry Lane looked almost the same as you’d always seen it. But you couldn’t help but notice the absence of Billy’s camaro parked in the driveway. Now his usual parking spot sat empty, only a few oil stains on the concrete remained.

You took a deep breath and as quietly as you could, you walked around the side of the house, stopping in front of the third window.

You closed your eyes and for a moment the weather changed.

For a moment it was a warm summers night and the window in front of you was glowing with light. You could hear Mötley Crüe coming from his radio and the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with his cigarettes drifted out the window. His shadow cast over you as he moved across the room, cigarette pressed between his lips as he smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

And just like that he was gone.

It wasn’t summer. It was the middle of winter and you stared up at the dark window.

Sadness washed over you but you pushed on, carefully shifting a few blocks of wood to stood on top of them.

Laying your fingers on the window you took another deep breath.

It was silly to think you could actually get inside without the strength of his arms hauling you up.

But that didn’t stop you from reaching up and pushing the window open.

As quietly as you could you clambered through the window, your feet hitting the floorboards with a dull thud.

You waited patiently, listening to see if your sudden presence had been noticed.

But only silence met you and you stared sound the room as your eyes adjusted to the dark.

You tiptoed over to his lamp that sat next to his bed and you flicked the switch.

Everything was the same.

The bed was made, sheets pulled up with close to zero effort and your fingers brushed over the wrinkles in the fabric.

Cigarette butts sat in the ashtray and a small smile crossed your lips.

You walked around the room, wiping the layer of dust from the surfaces you touched and you stopped in front of the dresser.

His favourite cologne sat closest to you and you lifted it carefully. Your finger pressed down on the pump and the scent sprayed into the air.

Memories flooded you as you breathed it in, all the nights you’d spent with your head buried in his neck.

You sprayed it once more onto your neck and placed the bottle down carefully.

You stepped in front of his wardrobe and bit your lip, remember the doors had always creaked.

But you opened them anyway and ran your fingers over the fabric of his shirts.

The red shirt, that was torn from his fight with Steve yet he’d refused to throw it out.

The black shirt, that he’d worn when he first met your parents.

And the blue shirt, that he had worn last December when he told you he loved you for the first time.

Finally your fingers fell on the leather jacket and let out a breath. With careful movements you removed it from its hanger and pulled it over your shoulders.

You pulled the leather to your face and breathed in the scent, the faint hint of his cigarettes still lingering.

A tear rolled down your cheek but you didn’t notice as you closed the wardrobe doors and walked to the bed.

You pulled the sheets back and slipped in beneath them.

Moonlight shone through the window and you reached over to turn the lamp off before falling back against his pillows.

God you missed him.

But in that moment, as you laid amongst the sheets in the bed you’d spent so many nights, basking in the scent of the boy you loved, you swore you could feel him.

You could feel his arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

And as you drifted off to sleep, with tears rolling down your cheeks, you felt safe.

For the first time in six months you didn’t feel so empty.

For the first time in six months, you were home.

Masterlist