#and it might have happened during a certain bois fathers death

[grimalkinmessor]

Just to put a lot of my posts and beliefs about Light Yagami's character in one post (headcanons not included):

• He does not do anything for purely moral reasons. The reason he started killing criminals was because he was curious, and then afterward his "crusade" was built from panic and spite. He thought using the Death Note was going to kill him, so he decided to take everyone he considered a threat to society down with him—that way he would still be good. He would still be remembered. If he can't live, then criminals don't deserve to either. The weight loss and the insomnia shown in the manga, were more likely results of a fear of dying than moral stress.

• Then Light discovers he won't die. This negates part of the spite, but not the need for a moral justification to keep himself "good". He no longer needs to be a martyr, so instead he's chosen to become a God.

• During this week and half of time, Light goes from being a bored, lonely, listless teenager disgusted with the world because it's not how his father taught him it should be, disgusted because if he can manage perfection why can't the rest of the world—to a boy with a new friend and a new mission that gives him purpose. Something interesting. If the world can't be perfect on its own, he'll have to help it. The world needs his help, making him its "savior".

• In comes L. It is no longer about Kira, no longer about saving the world from itself, even if he might tell himself it is—it's about the game. Kira was a fun pastime, yes, but L has made things so much more interesting. (Light and Ryuk are actually wildly similar in several ways it's just not immediately obvious). This game is more fun, too, because this time he has an opponent—one not so nebulous as "the criminals of the world", who offered no challenge. Light is still justifying his actions through a lens of morality, because he has to, but they're beginning to run rather thin.

• Both the broadcast and the obvious taunts to L through changing Kira's killing methods supports the above. "You're too stupid, L. If you were just a little smarter, we could've had some fun." Drawing L in was to progress their game, not Kira's goals. If Light truly only cared about Kira's vision, Kira's new world, Kira's righteous justice; then he wouldn't have continued to play the game after the broadcast. There was no way for L to find him without Light drawing him in—the Death Note is literally the perfect murder weapon. Light knew this, he just ignored it because he wanted to play.

• In the same vein: Yotsuba Light doesn't know he's playing the game. He's forgotten that there even is a game, and so he sees L as someone who's been duped, who either isn't as intelligent as he's been made out to seem, or someone who's being purposefully cruel just because he can. Either way, to Yotsuba Light, L's threat level has only increased, because Light no longer has any sort of weapon to go against him with. He can't even wield his own innocence against him, because his innocence is not certain. Even to himself. Yotsuba Light knows that he has to play along with L's plays of friendship and morality in order to secure his freedom, but he does not respect L or like him. At least, not until near the end, where they're closing in on Higuchi. Where his freedom seems closer....and yet he sees his own, true innocence as more tenuous than ever. Notably, even when Light feels positively towards L there, he still does not share his suspicions about himself with him. His own life still takes precedence over any sort of justice or morality he might have, because Yotsuba Light is still Light. And Light will always put his own self-interests first.

• After killing L, something interesting happens. Because the game ends, but Kira is still left. And Light was willing to take risks and make wild plans in his game with L, but Kira's goals always, always came after his own life. And when only Kira's goals are left, Light stops taking those big, potentially lethal risks. (i.e. bomb desk trap, killing Raye Penber in person by handing him pages of the Death Note, killing Naomi Misora in person right in front of the police station, writing Higuchi's name while sitting right beside L with the murder weapon literally in his hand, etc. etc.). Winning the game was worth dying for—Kira's ideals are not. Or, to put it even more simply: His pride is worth dying for, but his morals are not. Five years after his victory against L, he's presented with another game, but instead of feeling fearful and excited as he did with L, Light is angry. Arrogant and angry. Because this isn't a game to these opponents, as it was to L—they're playing against each other, and Light is merely a piece in it. This game is not like his game with L; it's more like his "game" with the criminals of the world. One with no true challenge, just another defense of Kira's world—worth winning, but not worth dying for.

• Light's pride is more important to him than anything. He needs to be able to take pride in himself and his actions. Pride comes before everything else, before Kira, before family, before L, even before his own desires and physical health. He does not enjoy killing—he just turned it into something he could be proud of. Into another mastering of craft. Light is not particularly sadistic, he's just spiteful. He'll only take pleasure in someone's suffering if they make someone else suffer first, especially if that someone is him. Attacking his pride would count as making him suffer, because that's the most important thing in the world to him. Even though Light also values his life incredibly highly, attempting to kill him wouldn't invoke as much hell-hot wrath as attempting to humiliate him would. And Light will always get even. Always. He does not forgive and forget.

• He believes every lie he tells himself. Every. Lie. He is a Good Man. He is Good Son. He is a Savior. He is Better. He is NOT Evil, he is Good. He's incredibly adept at not only fooling other people, but fooling himself. Even if he's vaguely aware of the truth, he'll take great pains to make sure that truth never comes to light—because it would crush him.

• Light does not take his own desires into account. If he likes or wants something that contradicts with the perfect image he's crafted, he purges it from his mind. Makes excuses for why he doesn't need it, or even convinces himself very thoroughly that he didn't even want it in the first place. If it's not something he can be proud of (or convince himself to be proud of), he doesn't allow himself to desire it.

• Light sees everyone as beneath him (family notwithstanding, Light loves his family deeply), and while it's a pyramid scale of how far beneath him they are, it's not actually ranked by things like gender, sexuality, race—it's ranked by morality and intelligence. The more intelligent and moral you are, the higher up you are on the scale. Light feeling hostile towards someone does not always mean he sees them as further down beneath him; with L and Misa specifically, it means that they're a threat. Light tends to only see people near the top of the intelligence pyramid as threats; evidenced by him dismissing Matsuda completely even with the knowledge that Matsuda was a marksmen, and yet him immediately setting out to kill Naomi when he found out she figured out one of Kira's secrets. With Takada and Mikami, he treats them exactly the same as each other because they're both on the same level of the scale—and he didn't hesitate to get rid of either of them. (Or try to get rid of, in Mikami's case). Everyone is either a tool, a threat, a criminal, a citizen, or family to him. People to use (tool, criminal), people to serve and/or placate (citizen, family), and people to eliminate (threat, criminal). Everyone falls into at least one of these categories for him.

• Light Yagami is a tragic character. And he's a tragic character because he refuses to believe he's part of a tragedy. He would rather swallow broken glass than be considered a victim of anything.

#death note #yagami light #light yagami #character analysis? #character analysis #the stapels of his character ✨ #i see so many character profiles for him that i thought id make one of my own :D #these are the points of contention for me—ESPECIALLY on the pride bit #if his pride isnt the most important thing to him beyond his life (and sometimes his family) then i consider it an ooc interpretation #but he's also not just. blatantly evil. he doesnt revel in the gore of his victims killing just for kicks #again its not about his own desires so much as its about his need to be seen as perfect and honorable #his intelligence bites him in the ass on that front. bc he can convince himself that his killing is righteous with very little struggle #anyway ✨ i love him #he's so interesting #this is how i see him WITHOUT all my headcanons in the way lmao #bigender light my beloved im sorry this is not your time to shine 😔

[nnightskiess]

the dance of death, part four

₊° - 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦����𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦...

the dance of death, masterlist

☾ ⋆*·:⋆*·:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥... had made Wednesday zone out the moment she had sat down in her seat, not only because she already held most information that was currently being taught, but also because a certain kind of mystery could not be erased from the forefront of her mind. She hadn't really known what to expect when first enrolling at Nevermore Academy, besides being surrounded by peers 'like her' and knowing she would want to stay in solitude nonetheless. But that the school held such a plethora of mysteries and had welcomed them all to her doorstep, had been a pleasant surprise. If only she hadn't tried her best to not let her parents enrol her at Nevermore, she could have had a headstart on solving all these riddles, murders and myths. But there was no time to solve anything now that she sat trapped in Nevermore's greenhouses, Miss Thornhills enthusiastic voice mixing with the students' quiet whispered chatter and the scribbling of Xavier's pencil.

She had stared intently at Thornhill's enormous venus fly trap plant that rested proudly on the teacher's desk, and had watched it slowly but surely close its leaves to devour the insect it had been given at the start of the class. The carnivorous plant was famous for trapping its prey and taking its sweet time to digest it, making whatever it had trapped squirm and crawl to save its life. It was awfully cathartic to Wednesday. Perhaps she was starting to become a little like this captivating plant; holding on tightly and not able to let anything go right until the end. Wednesday had now put her claws into the mystery of her violin player, and would definitely not let go until she held all the answers to her questions.

 Though class seemed to go on and on, watching the plant had been an amusing way to pass the time. The insect's legs shook and trembled as it tried to climb out or squirm itself between the barely shut leaves, to no avail. It was definitely better than listening to Thornhill talk about things she had already read about during her early childhood years, or looking at what the boy beside her was scribbling in his notebook. She had sensed his desire to talk the minute she'd realised the only vacant seat was next to him, but had made him turn back to his drawing, defeated, with only one harsh look. Filling the time with whispered small talk would only be torture to her, and not the kind of torture she often found herself daydreaming about.

 The corners of Wednesday's lips curled upwards in satisfaction as she watched the plant finally shut its leave completely. The squirming of the insect against the leaves faded away, but she found herself growing unsatisfied as a realisation hit her; although she might have set her mind on solving her newest mystery, she was not even close to finding answers. Nor did she know where to even start, and that bothered her.

Her mind wandered with each passing minute and she pursed her lips in concentrated thought, falling into the endless pit of everything that had happened after she'd arrived at Nevermore. From Roan to Jericho's murders and monster, to Weems acting strange, her father being involved in a murder and the discovery of the Nightshades, who had enticed her need for answers even further by their condemnation of her quest. Surely, that alone already proved that there was more to the supposed ghost story than met the eye, more than maybe even Weems was aware of. Unless Weems was in on it all, of course. Wednesday had yet to fully pierce through the puzzling exterior of Nevermore's principal. 

Through her endless enthusiastic rambling, horrible taste in music and despicable choice for room decoration, Wednesday had actually grown to a level of civilization with Enid, something that had surprised even herself. Maybe it was just because the werewolf had been so kind as to share her findings on her violin mystery or shared her intrigue on it, or perhaps Wednesday just validated how the perky girl had made absolutely no problem of their third roommate, and had even bonded with Thing so swiftly as if it was the natural order of life to befriend a severed hand. To the Addams family, it was, but Wednesday knew how most people lacked the capacity to broaden their boundaries of acceptance and prejudice.

Still, it remained a fact that no one at Nevermore seemed to know of any violin player. Even principal Weems herself had unknowingly helped Wednesday's investigation further as she had confessed to the absence of string music for years until the night of Wednesday's serenade. No matter how pathetically silly the Nightshade Society might have seemed to Wednesday at first glance, there was no denying that they held power with their access to a myriad of books, all of which held knowledge of years of historic events, myths and unsolved mysteries of Nevermore and its surrounding area. It had been the Library that had aided Roan in his suspicions of the girl, which could have resulted in her death if she hadn't been saved by another monster, the Hyde. Perhaps if Wednesday's arrival at Nevermore Academy had already been foreseen by Roan's mother years ago, it could mean that the Nightshade library held more of these foreshadowing theories of demises and unearthings. 

Snapping out of the whirlwind in her mind, Wednesday glanced at Xavier. The boy was frantically scribbling away in his sketchbook, concentration holding him in a focused trance. He firmly bit down on his bottom lip as he worked on his shading with a stick of charcoal, but it was as if he could hear the questions dance in Wednesday's head that made him look up. When he realised that Wednesday was no longer entranced by the plant as she had been for the past hour without so much a blink of her eye, he quickly shut down his sketchbook, burying it deep into his backpack right after.

Wednesday lifted a brow at his actions, "If that was what I think it was, then I need you to show me."

"No, I don't," Xavier quickly shot back in a hushed whisper, eyes glancing anywhere but at the Addams girl beside him, knowing he would falter otherwise.

"You need to tell me what you've seen."

He gave her a quick look, nibbled on his bottom lip and let out a quick breath through his nose out of frustration. Wednesday had him between a rock and a hard place; tell her and risk piquing her curiosity even more and making her get herself and the school into trouble, or don't say anything and risk Wednesday wreaking even more havoc as she tried to dig up the dirt her own. Either way, Xavier knew that whichever outcome he would choose, it would turn out horribly one way or another.

He let his eyes wander around the classroom, craning his head over his shoulder to see if anyone was even paying attention to the two of them. But his gaze locked with Bianca, and he could feel her eyes, and those of all the other Nightshades having watched their interaction, bore into the back of his head as he turned back around. 

"Not now," Was all he muttered firmly with a stiff lip as he leaned into his right, where Wednesday only reared back from the close proximity. Still, she furrowed her brows in response, not having expected such a quick retaliation. If anything, she had imagined him to keep silent with an angry pout on his lips or a witty rebuttal... maybe even a word of dismay. She lifted her chin and took his apathetic nonchalance with stride, not minding that she had been brushed aside so harshly, knowing he would concede later on. If he would keep his promise, that was. And if he wouldn't, then there would always be a way to get her answer, but then she'd get them on her own terms and she wasn't sure if the boy would look that very much. But she had asked nicely at least once, after all.

Wednesday kept her lips pursed, and this time, kept her gaze locked on the tiny wooden mantel clock on Miss Thornhill's desk, patiently waiting for time to pass. But as she dozed off into her maze of thoughts again, she felt a faint tap on her shoulder. Then again, immediately afterwards, but harsher this time, as if the person had been unsure if Wednesday had even felt at first. Four obvious and harsh taps followed each other at rapid speed and dug into her skin.

She steadily turned around in her seat, uninterested and maybe even a little vexed at the disruption of her thoughts, the audacity of having breached her personal space and the prospect of having to socialize. Yet, as her eyes flashed left and right, no one was behind her, no one able to have reached her shoulder from their distance anyway. She watched as Yoko's head rested against the palm of her hands and how Enid perked up the moment their gazes locked. Then she saw Bianca, who looked at her through squinted eyes. She turned back around, letting her eyes travel across the many plants standing to the side; maybe she could catch Thing hiding behind one, even if she knew damn well that if Thing had been the one behind the taps, both Yoko and Bianca would have looked at her differently like everyone usually did when they first saw the handy addition to the Addams family. 

Wednesday brushed it off, seeing no need to dwell on it now. Fifteen minutes and class would be over. Keeping her eyes on the plant that had intrigued her for the first half of class, she suddenly realised that she would need to do her best to stay on the winning side of things, or else she wouldn’t be the victorious carnivorous plant, but the insect it had trapped and killed. 

*⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

The greenhouse emptied out quickly, but Xavier gathered his stuff at an excruciatingly slow pace, trying to stall the inevitable, making Wednesday's impatience grow by the second. Finally, he hoisted his backpack around his shoulder and the two left Nevermore's greenhouses, Thornhill watching them leave.

With a soft tug on the sleeve of her blackened Nevermore uniform, Xavier ushered her to a more secluded place outside in the gardens, away from prying ears.

"Listen-" As Xavier sighed and looked around him, Wednesday already knew he was trying to get himself out of the situation as soon as he could, "I know we all owe you an explanation, I know we've been weird, but I care too much about you to risk getting you killed."

"You should know that I happen to find near-death experiences thrilling and delightful."

"Right," He grew uneasy as Wednesday's penetrating glare tore through his eyes, "Still, I'd rather have you alive than dead. And you don't know what you will unleash onto the school if you continue to push on. Please, think this through."

"I appreciate the sentiment, however, you made a promise; to tell me what was shown to you in your drawing."

"I never promised anything."

Wednesday gave him a look, knowing he might have been right with that one, but that she had him in a corner nonetheless.

"Alright! Fine. But honestly Wednesday, you need to swear to let it go. Nevermore's already got enough problems as it is."

"You do realise that I will look for answers either way, with or without your help."

Xavier nodded, a hint of a grimace on his face, "You've made that clear. But look, as much as I hate to say this, if you will ignore our warnings from this point on, we'll have to try and stop you."

"I'll be looking forward to it. Though I hope your attempts to thwart me will be far better than your attempt to kidnap me." She lifted her chin and examined him through squinted eyes. Xavier seemed uneasy, whether that was because he refused to help the girl further or admit to trying to stop her she did not know. Or maybe he seemed so unsettled because of what he had seen in his drawing, "You really are all terrified, aren't you?"

"If you knew what you were digging up, you'd be too."

"To be terrified is a foreign concept to me." Wednesday folded her arms against her chest, "You expect me to back down, yet you make my quest to find answers so much more interesting by being cryptic."

Xavier furrowed his brows, realising his mistake, "Look, you probably misheard it that first night. No one at Nevermore plays the violin or any other string instrument, it's literally impossible for you to have heard it. I know that Miss Thornhill likes her fair share of classical music, perhaps you heard that echo around Ophelia Hall? It's easy to mistake where the sound is coming from in such an old building, you know?"

"Your attempts to sway me are endearing." Wednesday muttered, quickly losing her patience, "Now tell me what you saw."

Xavier locked his jaw and shook his head, "I can't- I won't, but I'll show you the drawing if it makes you back down," He regretfully pulled his sketchbook out of his back, seeming to try and fight his own decision, and flicked through the pages, keeping it open with his hand on the right page to stop the harsh autumn wind from blowing through the pages.

"There, happy now?"

Wednesday watched the drawing with focused intent; Xavier had depicted her holding a violin at its neck, the strings snapped in half and sticking out in a tangle, her eyes filled by the harsh scribbling of his charcoal, with an equally as black silhouette lurking behind her, whose hand rested on her shoulder. What it meant, she did not know, but Xavier did, and it seemed to plague him.

"No, forget about it." He spoke before the words could even leave her mouth, "I've already done more than I should've or wanted to." He was quick to put his sketchbook away in his bag again, when a gust of wind ruffled through the pages, making Wednesday catch a glimpse of another drawing. Deciding to keep her mouth shut, she turned on her heel,

"Thank you for being a regretful waste of my time."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Wednesday."

The corners of her mouth pulled up into the ghost of a grin, "That's exactly why I love it so."

With her mind now even more set on continuing her search, she also had another goal in mind; to find out what other sketches Xavier was hiding. She knew the boy had been drawing this week more than ever, and going by the way he held his sketchbook close to his chest at all times, she knew it was something he didn't want her to see. Maybe her handy little friend would be of much to find out what it was exactly.

*⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Wednesday could hear the music booming through the stairwell as she walked her way up to Ophelia Hall's attic. Enid was so enthralled singing along to whatever K-Pop band she was fawning over now, that she failed to sense her roomie's presence until the Addams girl stood right in front of her.

"I'd rather watch a video of humans reuniting with their pets than have to listen to your choice of music one minute longer."

"Oh, Wednesday!" Enid's cheek flushed and she quickly hid whatever she had been knitting underneath her duvet. As if she hadn't just been caught, the girl batted her eyelashes, then turned her music down.

"Needed to blow off some steam, all good now. Anyway, I assumed you would be out looking for answers?"

With only an eye roll, Wednesday dropped her stuff near the door and sat back down behind her typewriter, growing frustrated when she couldn't find the right words. What was she going to write about now? About what had happened lately? About her findings? Her research? About Jericho's monster or about her father's conviction? Continue her novel? Or maybe about what she thought was going on with the Nightshades?

"What have you been up to?" Enid interrupted her thoughts. The girl now lied on her bed, her chin resting on the palms of her hands as her legs dangled up behind her in the air.

Wednesday turned around, "Have you seen Thing?"

"Uh, he painted my nails before class. Then he went off. I figured he went to look for you?"

Wednesday bit the insides of her cheeks, perhaps it had been Thing after all who had tried to catch her attention by tapping her shoulder.

Enid excitedly wiggled one of her hands, "He picked Silver Moon, do you like it?"

"It...," She watched Enid's excited and expectant expression as she anticipated Wednesday's answer, and remembered Thing's warning to be less harsh to the girl who tried her best to accommodate her, "...suits you."

Enid's grin only grew wider, instantly keen to keep the conversation going now that Wednesday seemed in somewhat of a good mood. But Wednesday still sat in her chair, back turned towards her again, staring at the wall right in front of her as her thoughts travelled to the depths of her mind.

"Okay... what's going on? You're being more quiet than usual."

Wednesday glanced at Enid, contemplating whether to be honest or not, but then quickly turned back around to type away on her typewriter, the words suddenly begging to be written as they flowed out of her fingers.

"Well, that's not assuring." Enid laughed awkwardly, getting off the bed and approaching with caution. She was yet to completely figure out all of her roomie's tells, her behaviour sometimes still left her baffled and confused, even hurt at times.

"You haven't written that much in days. Does that mean that you found out more about her?" Though Enid wasn't sure about digging up information on the whole mystery anymore after all her friends had tried to turn her away from it, she remained intrigued nonetheless. She'd also given up on trying to convince Wednesday from letting it go, knowing the girl was a stickler for the rules and tended to be like a rabid dog; refusing to let go, no matter who asked.

"I am certain there's more to the story, and I will find out what they're hiding from me." Wednesday turned around, determination etched in her features.

"Okay... but maybe you shouldn't... if what Xavier told me is true, then... well, I don't want you to turn insane. Or get killed. He told me that's what will happen once you hear her play. She'll drive you mad, visit you in your dreams and then come for you!" Enid rushed out in panic and played with her fingers, an adorable saddened and plagued pout on her face. Wednesday could almost feel her heart beat once if it hadn't been for the disgust she felt right after. Enid's words of care had taken her a bit by surprise.

She swiftly pulled herself together, "I acknowledge your worry, but I have to do this." She turned back to her typewriting, a clear sign that this conversation was over, needing to get her thoughts off her chest. "Besides, there's no use dwelling on me losing my sanity since it seems you all think I have no sanity to begin with. And frankly, I'm already looking forward to all the nightmares."

Enid slowly retreated back to her bed, unsettling concern in her eyes and her chest tightening with a feeling of impending danger. Still, she did not utter another word to the Addams girl but granted her the peace she knew she needed. She had mumbled out a quiet goodnight before turning all her lights off, except for the fairy lights around her bed to give her some sense and safety in the dark. But as she had glanced over to Wednesday's bed half an hour later to check up on her roomie, the girl already seemed fast asleep.

*⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

The second Wednesday heard Enid's soft occasional snore, she immediately sat up on her bed. She was a woman on a mission, and she would not let anyone get in her way. Her feet almost floated as she rushed around Nevermore Academy, her mind made up and the determination evident in her walk. Arriving at the Quad, she quickly turned to disappear in the shadowed nook that would lead her to the library, but a sound stopped her in her tracks. An echoed melodious whistled tune bounced against the walls of the Quad, disappearing in the open air of the cold autumn night. Not wanting any Nightshade member, or worse, Weems, to catch her in the act and stop her, she disappeared within the shadows of the dimly lit stone hall. Perking her ears to try and see if she might have misheard, she listened intently for another sound, but none followed.

Turning to the statue, Wednesday snapped twice and watched it open its entrance for her. The gravelling of the statue scraped against the stone tiles and was like a siren in the night, and if Wednesday had kept her ears perked, she would have recognised the melodious tune that echoed against the pillars of the Quad once more, as she had done mere seconds before. Instead, she followed the stairs down, feeling the eyes of the many people in the portraits rhetorically watching her enter the Nightshades Library.

The soft pitter-patter that followed behind her was unmistakenly that of Thing, and she all but rolled her eyes realising he was probably there to put a spanner in her works. She stopped in the middle of the library and watched him fasten his step to catch up to her.

"You'll find yourself to be powerless in your attempt to cease my need to find answers. Besides, where have you been all day?"

Thing was shaking in his place, quickly signing that he was there to protect her before walking right past her. He hoisted himself up onto the many bookcases and hastily skimmed through the titles and covers that were on display. Wednesday watched, her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise, for this was the first time Thing had not tried to keep her away from danger. He had either seen reason in her quest or valued the need of keeping his five fingers intact.

"Where to start..." She quietly muttered beneath her breath, fingers travelling along the many binds of books. Some looked more worn and read than others, some had vivid golden lettering stamped on their leathered covers, and others were barely being held together by their spine.

Thing, knowing the information Xavier had shared with Enid, stopped and turned back to Wednesday.

"What is it, Thing?"

He signed, pointed, tapped and waved chaotically to get his message across. Without struggle, Wednesday recapitulated exactly what he had said,

"It's supposedly a ghost story where when one hears the violin, they're doomed as they await to be killed by her?" She pursed her lips in thought and tilted her head, "How very disappointing, I've never liked ghosts."

Thing signed away again.

"If it holds any truth, then I don't see why I should be terrified. Yes, I've heard her play, but I have also not gone non compos mentis. Yet." Wednesday mumbled absentmindedly, continuing her search for any book that could be of use, "Then again, I already am what people consider deranged."

She crossed the circled room to take a look at the bookcases on the other side, realising she probably needed more of a historic read of the Academy. If this was just a ghost story, it wouldn't have made the members of the Nightshade Society so wary. Meaning that if it held any truth, she was most likely to find something in Nevermore's history. Thing followed her example and worked himself through the dusty rows of forgotten books. It was clear that this side of the library had been untouched for years.

Promptly, Thing stopped, jumped over onto Wednesday's shoulder and frantically pointed at the portrait hidden in the shadows beneath the stairs.

Veiled beneath a thick layer of cobwebs and dust was a painting of a girl, her back straight and her piercing eyes boring right into Wednesday's, her violin neatly and proudly portrayed in front of her as it rested on her thigh. Her gaze demanded attention; her lip slightly crooked into a mischievous grin and her eyebrows resting in a manner that gave the sense she knew what Thing and Wednesday were up to. Her stare was alluring, her face memorable, for Wednesday had never seen a girl look this evil yet innocent. Intrigued by the devilish glint in the eyes that demanded to be looked at, Wednesday found herself frozen in her stare. There was something about the portrait that just wasn't quite right. As Wednesday blinked once to see if things would change, she stared at the same face, with that same need to be looked at, and Wednesday gave in to that request wholeheartedly.

She started to notice how the colours used were dark and earthy, perfectly captivating the violinist in the way she was meant to be seen; as someone mysterious and sinister. If anything, in this dim light of the Library, it looked more eerie than ever. Wednesday was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. If she didn't know any better, this portrait could have very well been part of her mother's portrait collection of people who had died in mysterious ways that adorned the walls of their living room back home at the Addams mansion.

Her captivation with the girl in the portrait was cut short when she heard someone try and tiptoe down the stairs.

"We're not the only nocturnal beings as it seems, Thing." She sighed, frustrated at the interruption, but Thing was no longer resting on her shoulder. She had been so drawn to the portrait that she hadn't even noticed him digging back into all the books behind her.

"Okay, here I thought that it was clear that you would no longer be allowed to enter after you so carelessly waved off the invitation to join the Nightshades," Bianca Barclay's voice echoed off the walls as she appeared out of the shadows, arms crossed and a haughty and disdainful look on her face.

"Here I thought you would be wiser than to think I would follow the rules of your adorable little club." Wednesday turned her back to the portrait, shielding Bianca from the view.

Bianca sighed, "What is it you want, Wednesday?"

"An end to the ongoing torture of my roommate's appalling pop songs playing on a continuous loop."

Bianca shook her head in annoyance, ready to counter with a witty reply, until her face fell, "Wait, what is that?" She tried to look over Wednesday's shoulder, craning her head.

Wednesday only tilted hers to the side, thinking she was being tricked by the sudden change of attitude, her eyes still boring into Bianca's.

"No jokes, Wednesday... that portrait- what did you do?!"

Curious, Wednesday turned around. Her eyebrows rose as she saw what Bianca had alluded to; the eyes of the girl still pierced right at her, but now from an upside-down perspective. The whole portrait had turned itself around.

"Why the hell would you do that?!" Biance's voice rose and she took a calculated step back, glancing around her, afraid she would hear the melody start to echo as the story told. "Haven't you caused Nevermore enough trouble?!" Bianca rushed over her words, her voice laced with rage and irritation but with fright, most of all. Her feet slowly but surely took steps back, towards the stairs.

Wednesday watched Bianca's unease, not sensing what was so wrong about a little paranormal visit. Back at the Addams house, they often found things being moved or turned. At least there she'd had people around her who couldn't annoy her, solely for the fact she couldn't see or hear them. But here at Nevermore, the living were so unbearable to be around.

Wednesday started to gain great delight in the realisation that maybe, just maybe, Nevermore was home to some spirits as well. Though she could never really stand them back home, for they often made the doors slam and creak whenever she tried to write, it made this school all the more interesting.

With a shaking finger, Biance pointed at her, "You'll regret what you did, Wednesday,"

Wednesday turned back to the bookcases when Bianca's quick steps had finally disappeared, signalling the girl had left.

"We should go, before she brings her flock of insufferable friends."

Sneaking another quick look at the portrait, she walked up to it and decided to turn it back around, to leave it as it had been when she first saw it. She knew it would probably entertain the spirit even more that she had taken her bait, but maybe that was exactly what Wednesday wanted; to lure her out of the shadows she had been hiding in for who knows how long. However, as her hands touched the antique and ancient frame, a rush crept up her spine, making her body tingle with tiny jolts of electricity and her fingers turning freezing cold. Her head shot up, her eyes glazed over as she was forced into a trance-like state.

Only this time, she didn't travel into the vision itself. It was as if someone was pushing her out of them, blocking her view and restricting her senses. Images and whispered words flitted through her mind instead,

A manor in the woods, surrounded by vegetation and a lake. An old room filled with instruments, but the sound of a violin echoing above all. A name. The gates of Nevermore Academy. A body, idle, head down in the fountain in the Quad. Whispered words, pointed fingers; rumours. The sound of a violin playing. A name. Laughter; loud and devilish. A noose. A public execution at Jerrico's town square? A name. The feeling of rage, agony and betrayal. Pleading. A girl, unmistakenly the one from the portrait, looking out over the woods behind Nevermore. The spluttering sound of someone choking; a knife held to the throat. The lovely smell of iron; blood, and lots of it. And once again; a name.

A force was finally able to push her back into her body and Wednesday stumbled against the bookcases, falling on the ground with a handful of books dropping to the floor around her. She was rattled, and hazed. Thing watched with care, knowing the girl had seen something.

"Y/N. Her name is Y/N."

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸

☾ ⋆*·:⋆*·:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

© 𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘀

@ghostheartbeat @the-night-owl-blr @engenelxver @screechcat @mary-jinx @mxal24 @novastargalaxydesigns @randomawesomeperson102 @reginassweetheart @mjoiner1136 @rockwyn @lostgirl1415 @rainbow-love4ever @the-lazy-turtle @elduster @queen-bunny @ghostheartbeat

#the dance of death #dance of death #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday one shot #wednesday imagine

[lev1hei1chou]

Fun fluffy animes that I loved

This is basically a list of animes that helps get over or deal with the trauma inflicted by various animes. At the moment, I guess fellow JJK fans might need this, and prolly AOT fans on November 5. Have fun watching

Haikyuu

Short Synopsis: Determined to be like the volleyball championship's star player nicknamed "the small giant", Shoyo joins his school's volleyball club.

Episodes: 85 + 5 OVA

The worst thing that can possibly happen is either the 3rd year students graduating or you being unable to support a specific team (nah cuz bro how do you pick and root for one? I end up being happy for the team that won and depressed for the team that lost)

Two movies are coming up soon

Highschool Babysitters

Synopsis: After the sudden death of their parents on a plane crash, two young brothers named Ryūichi Kashima (a freshman in high school) and his younger brother Kotarō (a preschooler) are left orphaned and having no place to call home. The chairwoman of the prestigious Morinomiya Academy offers to take the boys into her care, giving them a new house and free tuition, on the condition that Ryuichi helps out with the school's daycare center while also attending normal classes during school hours.

Episodes: 12 + 1 OVA

Note: Plane crash seems sad but trust me, its only mentioned in the first episode, and the rest 11 is just fluffy goodness. Nothing can prepare you for the cuteness.

Cells At Work

Synopsis: One newcomer red blood cell just wants to do her job. Between bacteria incursions and meeting a certain white blood cell, she's got a lot to learn.

Episodes: 31 + 7

A good mix of science and entertainment. The episodes dont have to be watched in any specific order.

Mr. Osomatsu

Synopsis: The everyday lives of identical sextuplets who cause mischief.

Episodes: 75 + special eps + movies

Has a good amount of 18+ jokes, but its not too overwhelming. It doesnt necessarily follow a plot, and each episode is usually two different stories combined. So, skipping episodes should be fine. Also, it features very popular voice actors for the sextuplets (Geto's VA, Gojo's VA, Levi's VA, Koro sensei's VA, Erwin's VA and Haku/ Sugawara's VA), Iyami (Obanai Iguro's VA), Totoko (Shoko's VA)

The Vampire Dies in No Time

Synopsis: The story follows the famed vampire hunter, Ronaldo, who receives a job to destroy the supposedly invincible vampire lord Draluc and rescue a human boy he allegedly kidnapped.

Episodes: 24

Note: Its a hit or miss, the running gag is used constantly and gets tiring at times, but the overall anime is a good watch. I personally loved John the Armadillo

Buddy Daddies

Synopsis: Assassins Kazuki Kurusu and Rei Suwa meet Miri, a girl looking for her father on Christmas Day. Kazuki, Rei, and Miri unexpectedly end up living together.

Episodes: 12

May get dark at times, so I wont guarantee that itll be a smooth sail, but we get a wholesome conclusion so you can count on that! Otherwise VERY fluffy

Blue Lock

Synopsis: High school soccer players from across Japan gather for a controversial project designed to create the best and most egoistic striker in the world.

Episodes: 24

Isnt exactly true football, but yeah. The anime is pretty fine. It doesnt exactly go under the fluffy anime like i mentioned in the title, but you can check it out if you want.

Free!!

Synopsis: The story is centered on high school student Haruka Nanase, a gifted swimmer. After encountering his childhood rival, Rin Matsuoka from Samezuka Academy, he and his friends revitalize Iwatobi High School's swim team.

Episodes: 37 + specials and movies

This anime to me, personally is what haikyuu is. A great comfort anime which knows how to make the viewer connect with the characters. I dislike it when the whole anime gets reduced to just fanservice, like guys lets look beyond that and actually enjoy the plot.

Life Lessons With Uramichi Oniisan

Synopsis: From smoking and exercising to nihilistic outbursts, everyone's big brother Uramichi always brings up the not-so-moral side to his life lessons

Episodes: 13

This one is very real and relatable in many levels. Theres a lot of screenshots and panels available online, so you can check a few out before watching!

Obey Me

Synopsis: Brothers Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor are among the most powerful demons in the Devildom, serving as officers on the student council at the Royal Academy of Diavolo (RAD). However, being avatars of the seven deadly sins, their behaviors often tend toward the extreme. Their everyday antics belie their high status and fearsome reputations among others of their kind. When viewed behind the scenes, the members of this family are more lovable—and laughable—than they first seem!

Episodes: 24 + 1

It's based on a popular otome game, and can be watched as it is even if you havent played the game. The basic idea is that theyre based on the 7 sins, so their personalities are really amusing. As for the plot, its pretty wholesome.

Play It Cool Guys

Synopsis: Despite their distinctive personalities, Souma Shiki, Hayate Ichikura, Shun Futami, and Takayuki Mima all have one thing in common: though naturally clumsy, the four disguise their embarrassment from tiny slip-ups by maintaining a composed demeanor. However, it is actually the guys' airheaded natures that makes the girls' hearts throb. No matter what happens in their daily lives, the boys do their best not to lose their cool!

Episodes: 24

Each episode is barely 10-13 minutes, so it just doesnt feel enough lol. Most of their slip ups are relatable and could get a chuckle from the viewer. The art style is a little different but its good. Definitely worth watching, once or even multiple times.

Tanaka Kun is Always Listless

Synopsis: For high school student Tanaka, the act of being listless is a way of life. Known for his inattentiveness and ability to fall asleep anywhere, Tanaka prays that each day will be as uneventful as the last, seeking to preserve his lazy lifestyle however he can by avoiding situations that require him to exert himself. Along with his dependable friend Oota who helps him with tasks he is unable to accomplish, the lethargic teenager constantly deals with events that prevent him from experiencing the quiet and peaceful days he longs for.

Episodes: 13 + specials

Not gonna lie, Ive wanted to act like Tanaka. The characters are lovable and the anime is worth giving a try. An underrated gem. I personally loved the school festival episode.

@satoruukisser hope this helps!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #haikyuu #hq #kageyama #kuroo tetsurou #hinata shouyou #miya atsumu #blue lock #haikyuu sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa #obey me #oikawa tooru #kashima kotarou #cells at work #mr osomatsu #osomatsu san #vampire dies in no time #john the armadillo #buddy daddies #rei suwa #kazuki kurusu #kazuki x rei #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #barou shouei #isagi yoichi #kunigami rensuke

[notyour-valentine]

The Boy in the Window 13 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

Chapter Summary: Tommy, despite his plan, prepares for the worst. So must (Y/N).

Notes: I can almost taste the end...but the end of what? That's the question... I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Smut/ sexual content (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 3413

Part 13

[Previously]

The betting shop looked entirely different by day than it had at night, with sun falling in through the windows, illuminating the dancing dust. 

There were no shadows now, constantly creeping up on the milk glass doors, but she was still afraid. 

The same hand that had caused her terror the last time she had been here was now the only one ensuring she didn't fall apart. 

He had come and told her to come with him to the office and so she had, letting his hand on the small of her back guide her past the tables and the chalkboards all the way to his office at the end of it. 

Emma and Charlie had joined, exploring his office curiously. 

To her surprise, the boy had never been here before. Then again, why would Tommy Shelby, if given the option, bring their child here? Why would anyone, apart from a last resorts?

Charlie in particular adored the painting of a horse behind his father's desk, while Emma fell in love with the swivel chair. 

(Y/N) saw that contraption as an accident waiting to happen and on any other day, she would've told Emma to stop, but today she didn't have the energy.

"Tommy, why am I hear?", She asked. 

"Insurance.", He told his desk, not looking up to meet her eyes. 

From the paperwork placed at his side, he pulled out several sheets of paper. 

"They're already set with the lawyers. Only thing missing's your signature."

"Signature for what?", She asked. 

Tommy took a deep breath and walked around the desk, standing so close that the children wouldn't hear. 

"If it goes wrong, I don't know how many will be left.", He said, his tone void of all emotion, which made her shudder.

It. 

She had heard this ominous it a lot on the last few days. 

The great it he had in motion, that apparently could end this vendetta with the Italians, that occupied his mind and body alike, keeping him away during the day and making him get up at ungodly hours during the night. 

He didn't explain it to her but she didn't ask either. She didn't need to know more about it than she already did- she knew it was a risk, a gamble. 

"How many?", She asked. 

"Of us. If it goes south, it'll definitely be me and who knows who else. We'll all be there."

Tommy cleared his throat and handed her some papers. 

"What's this?", She asked once more, her eyes glancing over the Shelby letterhead. 

"I'll not leave it to the fucking parish to decide what happens to my son.", He said sharply, flipping a few pages over to the final one.

There she could find his own signature, as well as that of the lawyers, and of Mrs. Gray.

One gap remained. 

Under it, someone had typed out (Y/N) Hale, née (L/N).

"Everything's sorted. There are people, independent people, who'll know what to do and deal with the paperwork. You can trust them."

"Tommy, are you certain?", She asked. 

He gave a quick nod and handed her the pen, his face a mask of stone, with not a muscle betraying him. 

(Y/N) stared at the white paper, watching the ink of his signature blur in her vision. 

Once this was over, it couldn't be undone and the implications were not lost on her, their weight, the responsibility. 

But he was sure, and she couldn't deny him this small fragment of certainty, not when he might very well be going to his death.

Not too long ago, in this very same room, she had feared what would happen to her daughter if she were to die.

It was not a feeling she ever wanted to experience again, nor one she would wish on even her worst enemy if she had one.

His hand found the small of her back as she leaned over and signed the document, shaking as she put the pen aside. 

Beside her, Tommy breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

He averted his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning back and pulling her in, so that she had her head resting against his shoulder, his arms holding her in a secure embrace that only made her feel more uncertain. 

"We won't need it.", She promised, or prayed- maybe. 

His only answer was a kiss to her temple. 

They only broke apart when Charlie tugged at her dress. 

"Can I get a hug too?", He asked. 

Tommy reached down and lifted him up so that he sat on his hip, stroking his hair from his forehead. 

"Tomorrow, you'll go on a trip.", He told him, his voice changing to a lighthearted tone the way only parent’s voices could. 

"Curly will take you and Emma and (Y/N) on the boat and you'll go to a forest to have a picnic."

"Are we, Mummy?", Emma asked, pushing past the chair to join then.

(Y/N) only nodded. 

It involved the Changrettas coming into Small Heath. It involved Arthur and all of the Shelbys in one spot. 

And it meant that Tommy wanted her and the children away for the city. 

(Y/N) hadn’t even found the ground to argue on and so here they were. 

That day, Tommy stayed. He stayed for lunch and after, stayed for tea and dinner, played with the children and bathed Charlie. 

Afterwards he went up with her to put them to bed, listening to the stories, and then the song. 

She left the room before he did, not wanting to disturb his goodnight to Charlie. 

Instead, she went back downstairs and sat down on the sofa, drawing her legs under her. 

The room was completely still, and yet her ears ached as if a matching band had been playing for hours. 

She could feel the strain from the frantic beating of her heart, not just in her soul like the poets did, but in her chest, the way old people would complain about.  

And she was afraid- so deeply afraid. 

Tomorrow, she thought, Tommy could be dead. 

Tomorrow Charlie could become an orphan. 

And then what? 

(Y/N) knew she shouldn't feel as daunted as she did. She had lost people before, had buried and mourned them- a mother, a father and sister, a husband and a brother. It was nothing she hadn't done before, nothing she hadn't gotten through before, but the thought of tomorrow was a bottomless pitch black pit, so grim and ghastly it drained any lighty, any last fragment of hope. 

What would she do? 

He had said there were plans in place, people who'd tell her, who'd guide her and show her but what would she do? 

What could she do? 

What words were there which she could say to Charlie? To explain?

Would she even be able to say them if she knew? 

(Y/N) leaned her forehead against her knees and took a shuddering breath. 

The worst part was that it was nothing but a selfish fear, not just for Charlie, but for herself, her own, personal, cowardly, selfish reasons- reasons she had no right to. 

And she had no right to the tears that burned on her cheeks either, nor to the way her lip trembled, or how her throat tightened. 

She had no right to any of it, but she felt it all the same and she didn't know how to make any of it stop. And she knew it was too late to try. 

Somewhere along the way she had crossed the Rubicon without being able to handle the tension as the dice spun, preparing to spell out her fate - and that of the children. 

When his hand found her shoulder, she flinched so hard she nearly fell off of the edge of the sofa. 

At once, she brought her sleeve up to her eyes, scrubbing at them the way one would scrub at a stain in the desperate attempt to get rid of it. 

"I'm fine.", She hissed, getting up from the sofa. 

During her escape to the kitchen she made the mistake of glancing at him, only to be met with piercing, pale eyes, opened wide and filled with pain that only proved the agony she felt to be more than appropriate. 

(Y/N) braced herself on the kitchen table, leaning forward as she fought for control over her shaking hands, her hitching breaths, her thundering heart and her foolish tears. 

It was a futile battle, but she had known that before she started, otherwise she wouldn't have left the room. 

"(Y/N)."

He said her name so softly, so gently, it seemed almost uncanny when spoken by a rough voice like his. 

She forced her eyes shut and shook her head. 

"It's fine.", She assured him, not turning to look at him, only to hear him sigh once more. 

When she realised he had moved to stand behind her, she regretted coming here, because now there was no way out unless she wanted to go past him. 

That meant looking at him, and allowing him to look at her and that was something she really didn't want to happen, not while the tears were still coming. 

She so hated to cry. 

His hands found her shoulders. 

"I said it's fine.", She repeated, her voice betraying her the same it had before as she wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. 

With determination, but entirely without force, he turned her around. 

(Y/N) hid her face from his sight with her sleeve- or at least she tried to. 

Instead of pulling her hands away, he drew her in until his chin rested atop her head. 

She took a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of him- of his cigarettes and the shaving cream he used, of soap, of whisky and smoke. 

His hands found her back and began to draw circles between her shoulder blades. Up and down. Up and down.

"It'll be alright.", He whispered. 

(Y/N) was desperate to believe him. She wanted nothing more than to let the tension in her shoulders fall from her, to melt into his embrace and believe him. 

But she couldn't. 

"You don't know that.", She insisted, her voice trembling through her tears which threatened to soak through his shirt. 

Thomas Shelby took a deep breath before correcting himself. 

"You and the children will be alright."

The pain in her chest was so sharp at his words, she very nearly buckled over, the implications not lost on her. 

"There are things in place-"

She forced her eyes shut and shook her head, not wanting to hear this once again. 

So what if he had things in place?

So what if there were people that would tell her where to go and what to do? 

All (Y/N) did was shake her head as if that would block out his words and the harsh reality they carried. 

In a desperate, futile attempt to draw back, she turned her head away, knowing she wouldn't have the strength of will to pull all of herself out of his reach. 

His hand found her cheek, smudging the tears with his fingers as he tried to stroke them away. 

“(Y/N).”, he whispered, turning her face to his. 

She had forced her eyes shut so she had no warning until she felt his lips on hers. They were as soft and cautious, almost hesitant, as they had been the night of Charlie’s birthday, when he feared her possible rejection. 

His hand was still holding her face with such care as if she were a glass figurine he feared would shatter. 

She didn’t want him to kiss her and she didn’t want to kiss him back. She didn’t want to melt into him, to drown in the warmth of his embrace, to have the pleasure he could give her wipe away her worries. She doesn’t want to hold him close and be held in equal measure. 

But wanting and needing were to very different things. 

And she needed him, in the same, burning desperate need he seemed to feel for her. 

Her hands found his chest, running up the fabric of his shirt to steady herself against him as she kissed him back. 

His hands had left her face and pulled her blouse from her skirt. Even when he began to undo it, button by button, he didn’t stop kissing her.

The warmth of his hands, as they brushed the white cloth off of her shoulders kept any chill at bay, and spread a burning of their own as they found her shoulders. 

Her own trembling  fingers were far less skilled as they fidgeted with his buttons. He had to help her get rid of it, and broke the kiss to do so. 

(Y/N) stared at him.

By now, she knew every mark on his chest, every scar, every tattoo. She knew what they felt like under the touch of her lips and the caress of her hands - she knew, and she hated that she knew. 

She hated how used she had become to him, how familiar his skin felt on hers, how natural it felt for his arms to wrap around her. 

She hated the way he sat her down on the sofa so gently and how she felt no shame when he knelt down in front of her. 

And she hated herself for doing nothing to stop it. 

But how could she? This might be the last time…the very last time…

His fingers burned on her skin as they unclasped her stockings, rolling them down gently. When the fabric passed her knee, he leaned down to kiss it. 

He repeated it on the other leg, only this time, he pushed them apart and kissed the inside of her knee, finding the spot of one of her childhood scars. 

(Y/N) knew it was no accident. 

His fingertips traced a line down her leg and the way they barely brushed against her skin made her shudder. 

Once he reached her ankle, he closed his hands around it and lifted it atop his shoulder. 

“Relax.”, he whispered, his lips redder than they usually wore, flushed and swollen and glistening slightly.  “I’ve got you.”

She tried, she really did. 

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of the sofa, while he continued to trace kisses on the inside of her thigh, the image of his dark eyes and shining lips burning in her memory. 

“Tommy!”, she whispered. “Please…”

Nights ago, he had begged her to make him feel better and now she was asking him the very same thing - or at least to make her forget, even if it was only for a moment. 

At first it was enough for her to melt into his touch, but as she grew ever more lightheaded, she just had to touch him, in any way she could, to hold onto him, else she feared she’d fall into an abyss of her own. 

(Y/N)’s hands shook as they found the back of his head, her fingers coiling in his hair. 

Somehow that only seemed to urge him on as he quickened the movements of both his fingers and his tongue. One of his hands pressed down on her already trembling thigh while the other reached up to steady her hips, limiting the way she’d writhe and squirm. 

“Tommy-”, she managed to whimper, her voice barely more than a breath, as he brought her right to the edge, but she wasn’t ready, not yet. 

“Tommy.”

Only when she tugged at his hair with more force, did he allow her to bring his face up. 

In doing so, she almost lost her balance and very nearly crashed into his shoulders. 

“(Y/N)?”, he asked, just as out of breath as she was. 

Instead of answering, she pulled him in and crashed her lips to his. 

If this really was their last night, she wanted to hold him, as close as possible, independent of the many pleasures he could coax from her in other ways. 

For a second or two, Tommy seemed struck with her change of pace, but then one arm found its way around her back, pushing her up against him. 

Her own hands found his chest, fingers brushing over skin, tracing his scars and the tattoos, all these little details- 

A desperation gripped her, urging her to reach out again, to touch them again, to kiss them again, because if she didn’t memorise them now, she could never get the chance again and that would mean forgetting. 

Another shudder, a darker shudder ran through her, making her tighten their embrace. 

His hand had to force their way between their two bodies in an attempt to undo his trousers, brushing against her burning skin, letting her feel even the slightest of movements. 

She buried her head in the crook of his neck, and so he must have felt her faint gasp when he entered her. 

He moved slowly, almost painfully so, and in stark contrast to the rush she had felt earlier. 

Because as soon as something starts, it is only counting down to the end and this end…

(Y/N)’s fingers dug into his shoulder, her nails biting into his skin as she clung to him. 

Every thrust pushed her closer, every thrust brought her closer to him. 

The kisses she pressed on the side of his neck were wet frantic, a futile attempt to say things she couldn’t voice. 

But the grew ever sloppier, mixed with trembling gasps and shudders. 

His own lips covered her collarbone and chest with his hot breath and kisses, and yet their affect transcended her skin, leaving their mark in the depth of her soul, a mark she knew would stay far longer than the remnants of his physical touch. 

She clung to him when he brought her to the edge and crossed it, and kept holding onto him even after he had found his own release. 

“Not yet.”, she whispered.

His arms tightened around her in response, not caring for the heat, for the coat of sweat that covered the both of them, just like she didn’t. 

When (Y/N) dropped her head onto his chest, she trembled, and when she heard him sigh, she realised he knew that this time it wasn’t from either cold or the aftermath of her pleasure.

Tilting his head, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, burying his nose in her hair. 

~

It was the creaking of the floorboard that woke her, the kind of creaks that they only made in her bedroom upstairs. 

And she was in her bed, lying on her stomach, her head facing the room. 

Since the last thing (Y/N) remembered was forcing her eyes shut to stop any possible tears as she listened to his thundering heartbeat, she knew she hadn’t made her way up here on her own. 

And yet, the bed was cold. 

She could hear him moving around in the room though, the groan of old wood, the hiss of fabric, even the click of metal cufflinks. 

But (Y/N) didn’t open her eyes. 

That would mean looking at him and that would mean watching him leave. 

The thought alone made her heart clench so fiercely in her chest, her face nearly betrayed her.

The bedframe squeaked slightly as he sat down on the side of the bed, dipping the matrasse. 

(Y/N) held her breath. She knew it was a childish thing to do - as if just because she couldn’t see something would prevent it from happening. 

That perhaps the adult thing, the right thin, would be opening her eyes and sitting up. 

But she couldn’t. 

His hand was as warm as the caresses of the summer sun as it touched her naked shoulder. 

“(Y/-”

Tommy broke off before finishing her name, instead ending in a sigh. 

She could feel the grip of his hand, which had already been gentle, become even softer. 

For a moment he just sat there, as her heart thundered in her chest so violently, she thought he must be able to hear it. 

But if he did, he didn’t let it change his mind, as his hand smoothed down some tangled strands of her hair. 

When he bent down, she could feel the fabric of his shirt against her skin a mere heartbeat before he kissed her temple, letting both his lips and his hands linger. 

The bed creaked again, as goosebumps covered her back and arms in the absence of the warmth of his touch.

Her breath hitched when he pulled the blanket all the way up to her neck. 

Her hands coiled into the fabric until she could feel her fingernails dig into the palm of her hand even in spite of cloth between them as the lock clicked into place. 

But that sound wasn’t nearly as bad as hearing the front door close a few minutes later - proof, that he really was gone. 

(Y/N) wouldn’t have gathered the strength of will to get up that day if it hadn’t been for the children, or the way her jaw tightened, giving her mere moments to reach the basin.

End of Part 13

~

Part 14

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind!

Taglist: 

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy

@books-livre

TBITW Taglist:

@kaitebugg03 @esistmon  @chlorrox   @theshelbyslimited  @budugu  @woofgocows  @orkwardx0 @judig92 @100percentamess @kabbuu @esposadomd  @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @starsnsecrets @lady-loves-a-lot @katiepie67 @acoolnight @chaotic-onigiri @ohshititsfenharel @muhahaha303 @globetrotter28 @xoprincessmel @shittingonyourgrave @pessimisticbiitch @elisa20beth @simran-preet19 @majesticcmey @akiisbae @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @vodkainthecoffee @pearlstiare @jk-acc @cutecurly-hair @lovecleastrange @kishie8

#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Thomas Shelby Imagine #The Boy in the Window #valentineswritings

[gabessquishytum]

For the younger Dream AU, can you imagine what would happen if it wasn't Death he lived with but his parents?? Like his mother and father think that Hob is just their very nice neighbor who lives a few houses down and isn't totally destroying their son's ass every couple of nights. They don't know Dream is sneaking around them bc Hob is absolutely firm on Dream not moving in just yet as to not give it totally away. It's also more fun like that. Especially when Night invites Hob over for dinner bc she's convinced he can't cook for himself, even though he can, and attempts to talk to him but all Hob can do is eyefuck Dream from across the table.

How about a pool party during the summer holidays where Time talks to Hob about guy things, not noticing how thoroughly Hob rubs sunscreen in on his son. Or how closely they sit in the hot tub, sneaking in touches when he's not looking.

Also picture them going out of town for a little weekend getaway/day trip, but they don't tell Hob how long they're gonna be gone, just to peek in and make sure Dream hasn't destroyed the house. Cue them walking in on their precious baby boy on his knees with his face shoved into the carpet as Hob's railing him so sweetly and so well. The whole situation collapses in on itself as Dream gets kicked out and Time damn near starts a fist fight with Hob, thankfully a certain someone has room to spare in that big ole lonely house.

- 🤜 (can I have that one or is it taken?)

Ohhh yes this is GOLD. Welcome to the emoji party, 🤜 anon!

I'm obsessed with Dream sneaking out of his room, wiggling through a hedge and popping up in Hob’s kitchen, ready to be fucked. Hob is... not the most moral person, and honestly he's really enjoying the game of hiding all this from Dream’s parents.

Meanwhile Dream just wants it all out in the open already! He's tired of sneaking around and he wants to be able to make out with Hob in front of his parents, dammit! So, when his parents go away Dream knows that there's a chance they might pop back in... and he conveniently forgets to mention that to Hob, oops!

The comedy potential of Dream being kicked out and literally moving in 3 doors down with his dilfy older lover... God his parents hate it. They've already seen way too much of that relationship and they're about to see and hear more (Dream is very keen on leaving the doors and windows open so everyone can hear him being fucked... and Hob definitely isn't ashamed to fuck him in the back garden if he asks).

They worst part is that Dream is thriving! He's doing great at university, he actually smiles at people these days, he looks so much healthier now he's gained some weight from Hob’s cooking. He's got friends! And Hob is absolutely besotted with him. He's happy, and it makes Night and Time absolutely shake with rage to know that their degenerate son is doing so well... right there, under their noses.

#🤜 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw age gap

[artficlly]

the shadow (miniseries - part one)

Post Endgame Avengers AU miniseries - part one

avenger!bucky x widow!reader avenger!yelena x widow!reader (platonic)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Reader is an ex-black widow sniper who escaped the Red Room with the help of Yelena and Natasha. After working as an illegal hired gun, Yelena recruits the reader to the team as a sniper. The reader is closed off, not wanting to form connections or friends with anyone. Though, as their shell begins to crack, they notice they have a lot in common with a certain Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of weapons, swearing, low self-esteem reader, mentions of past non-con, lots of angst. lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've had in my brain for awhile now. i don't know if many people will vibe with this, so might just be written for my weird interests lol. i think this will be two, maybe three parts? I just wanted something a bit more intense to work on alongside face the music (which is a more wholesome college au multi chapter fic). I'm very interested in exploring the 'what if' side of what happens to all the widows once they escape. I am also a sucker for feminist readings/feminine rage so this is a fun outlet. I have some plans for more ex-widow content (maybe longer series) but i wanted to get this mini-series up as a sort of taster! there isn't a heap of bucky barnes content in this part, but oh boy, there is some coming in the next part!! not proof read - pls forgive any typos.

main masterlist

Many unexpected things had happened during your life, even before you were old enough to understand how unexpected they were. 

Firstly, you had been torn from your birth family at a young age. You never knew if your family had willingly given you up. You had heard tales of starving mothers, selling their children in order to survive. Other tales said that the mothers refused to sell their children. Though, a mothers love was not enough to sustain through the Russian winters. Those mothers died for the love of their children, but regardless their children were still taken by the Red Room. 

Others whispered that the women of the Red Room were specifically chosen for their genetics, hunted down and stolen. There was no regard for a mothers love, only the possibility of another weapon to create. 

Deep down you could hope that your mother had loved you. 

You would never know. 

The second unexpected thing to happen in your life was when you escaped. Much like the other Widows, you had spent most of your life under the control of men. You had been a weapon, faceless, deadly. You had survived the training that many didn’t and that was the only thing that made you of value. The discovery of a life beyond the Red Room? A life beyond what you had been crafted for? Freedom was more frightening than any mission or task you had undertaken. 

With the Red Room gone, thanks to Yelena Belova and Natalia Alianovna? You were purposeless. You were a small ship, lost at sea. You were a small ball of rock, hurtling through space, burning up and dying out. There was no reason for you to exist, there was no life for you. You were a killer, a monster. Why did you deserve peace? How could you ever find peace with all the blood on your hands? You were raised to be a killer, and a killer you were. 

In the Red Room you were The Shadow. A faceless sniper, one of the best in the world. You did your job, and you did it well. Even after you were freed, you continued to work as a sniper to find some meaning. You were good at disconnecting from your emotions. Taking the shot wasn’t one to sweat, you floated above your body and pulled that fucking trigger. 

The people who hired you didn't know your name. They didn’t see your face. You were a weapon and you would kill without question. A father, a mother, a child? It didn’t make a difference to you. It was just another target. Even if you were free from Dreykov, you were still the weapon he had built you to be. As much as you tried, as much as you fought, screamed and cried. You were a Widow, a faceless killer, a nobody, a Shadow. 

The third unexpected thing to happen in your life was Yelena Belova. She was a force, hurtling into your life. You had never expected it. You thought once she freed all the Widow's it would be over. She wouldn’t need to associate with her fellow Widows anymore. She was a hero, she made it big. She would become an Avenger like Natalia. Start over, fresh face, new name. Natalia, Natasha. She had been a hero, she had freed all of the Widows. You? You were a gun for hire, bottom of the barrel scum. 

Yet, there Yelena had stood, reaching out to pull you from the snake pit. 

You had been hired for an inside job, some drug deal with the potential to go very wrong. You were to keep watch, blow out the brains of their competitor if necessary. You didn’t think into the ethics, you just shot who you were told to shoot. You should’ve known Yelena would keep tabs on you, you should’ve known that day would come. Even if you were nameless and faceless, you were still a weapon. The world doesn’t just lose weapons, no, they either used them or prayed for their untimely death. 

The deal went messy, as anticipated. You went to shoot but a foot was on your rifle making you pause. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Shadow.” The blonde had tutted at you. “I have been standing here, for what? Two minutes? You didn’t even see me.” 

You didn’t know why her speaking Russian shocked you so much. You had spent so many years dealing with Americans and Europeans that you had slipped into the comfort of English too easily. You had just assumed that the world of superheroes had Americanised Yelena, like they had Natasha. But there she was, Yelena fucking Belova in the flesh. Your third unexpected thing. 

“Come to tell me off for being a bad girl, Belova?” You teased, hand subtly finding the knife at your thigh out of instinct. You doubted Yelena had come here to kill you, you had heard through the grapevine about her little mission. She had spent two years freeing Widows across the globe. Though, you couldn’t help but notice that Yelena was armed to the teeth. Knives and guns tucked into hidden pockets through her black suit. You had heard she had become an Avenger - well atleast what was left of the team. Stepping into Natasha's role, she wanted to do good so bad. You could never be that, a hero. You weren’t meant to be anything other than another man’s blade or bullet. 

After Steve Rogers death, the Avengers had spiraled for a time. Eventually, Sam Wilson had taken up the mantle. A few had followed, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, his protégé Kate Bishop as well as Yelena. You didn’t even know if they called themselves ‘The Avengers’ anymore, only that they acted like them. Seemed they were running off the left-overs of Stark’s money as well as government funding. You had heard rumors about Scott Lang or even Steven Strange still floating around. After Wanda Maximoff had gone near-insane, the world had turned a cruel eye on their heroes. Even if they had been the only ones to save them from The Blip. People - your people - they didn’t want to be classed as heroes anymore, but somehow they were still committed to ‘doing good’. 

“I could tell you off,” Yelena drawled, eyes following your every move. You were on your knees now, slowly rising from the lying position you had held. If Yelena was a predator, you were certainly her prey. Unfortunately for her, you were also a predator when cornered. Outside, you could hear gunshots overlapping each other, shouting and grunting. It hurt that it annoyed you, that Yelena would be inadvertently ruining your reputation. You always made the shot, always. Except this time. You supposed being held up by Yelena fucking Belova was a better excuse than missing your shot. No, now that would be embarrassing and reputation destroying. The Shadow missing a shot? Unheard of. 

“I want to offer you a job. Could be a one time thing, could be more. Pays better than whatever this is, and is certainly more legal than whatever this is.” Yelena continues her spiel. She had palmed a knife, waving it as she spoke for extra effect. It was a hunting knife, sharpened to perfection. You didn’t like to imagine how the serrated edge would feel cutting into your flesh. 

“Your jobs barely qualify as legal,” You snip back, carefully eyeing her movements. Was she signaling someone through the window? The glare of the sun against the blade would surely be visible outside. There could be an entire team outside waiting to take you down. Yelena could just be the distraction. Your hand tightens around the handle of your own knife, ready to pull it from its holster at the slightest indication of an ambush. 

“Everything is legal if you work for the right people,” Yelena cuts back, tilting her head as she observes you. Time was ticking, you knew this could go one of two ways. You really hoped it wouldn’t end with one of you bleeding out on the floor. You had respect for Yelena, for what she and Natasha had done. 

“What if I say no?” You ask, russian muffled through your mask. You always wore them on jobs, always. You were a faceless weapon, mixing your identity in would not help you shoot better. Yelena smirks at you, finger running down the blade of her knife. She looked so casual, leaning against the window sill without a care in the world. She was definitely better armed than you. Your ears strain, trying to hear if someone is climbing the stairs of the building. All you can hear is the scuffle of the deal downstairs in the alley. 

“The government is interested in you. They don’t have a name yet, just… a shadow of a person to look for. Ex-Widow, a hired gun. I can make it go away. I know powerful people.” You could see her teeth through her smirk as she spoke. It was a thinly veiled threat. Pull your shit together, you’ve drawn too much attention to yourself. No, this was the difference between you and Yelena. She had cared, she had become the hero she had needed. You had stayed the same monster, spiraled further into your own hatred and disgust. You had become the person people needed saving from. Yelena cared so much about every Widow that the idea of one slipping through the cracks? It would haunt her. She was warning you, giving you a way out. She wanted to help you. 

The shouting and gunshots outside had died down, now only the sound of several sirens approaching. Time was still ticking and you were running out.

“Make your choice quickly, Shadow. Make it wisely though, I really don’t want to kill you.” Yelena purred. You eyed her for a long moment, carefully getting to your feet. Despite her cold exterior, the way she tried to be intimidating… You could see the pleading in her eyes. She wanted you to come with her, she wanted to help you. But you couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved saving? 

So many years, so many dead bodies. The only thing that kept you going was your strength, your reluctance to die. But after so many years of running, so many years of being alone… was there a reason to keep fighting? That sickness, it clawed away in your brain. You didn’t deserve saving. 

The sirens drew nearer. Reluctantly, you spoke. Even if that sickness was strong, your stubbornness and desire to breathe was stronger. You would live out of spite. You would live just to spit in the faces of those who wanted you dead. If you were going to die, it would be on your own terms. 

“Who am I shooting?” You ask, reaching out your gloved hand for Yelena to shake. Yelena must feel some kind of relief, you see her shoulders droop every-so-slightly as she shakes your hand.

“That list seems to be endless these days.” She replies with a grin. 

—

The small rural town was desolate. A ghost town, Yelena had said. A ghost town that had become infested with vermin.

Remnants of society still remained. You could imagine the ghosts of people passing by as you navigated through the landscape. A cracked concrete road, overgrown with weeds. The apartment buildings with their windows smashed out, graffiti scrawled across crumbling stone. Billboards years out of date, forgotten band-posters peeling off walls and lampposts. You couldn’t say who once lived here - but whoever they were, they were most certainly gone or dead. 

You were positioned on the second-floor of a disintegrating school house. The building itself was several stories higher but you had taken one look at the unstable staircase and thought better of it. Ripped, stained curtains blew lightly in the wind, at the front of the room a cracked blackboard still had the date July 17th, 1994 scrawled across it. 

You were in your usual working gear. Your suit was tight and flexible for ease of movement, adorned with pads on the knees, elbows and shoulders. Your hands were clothed with fingerless gloves and most importantly you wore your mask. A belt holds a handgun, lower down some straps across your thighs hold knives and pockets for convenience. They were for if things got messy, your real weapon was tossed over your back - a duffle bag with your sniper rifle inside.  

Broken glass crunched under your combat boots as you cautiously approached the window. The building you had chosen was strategic. Across from you was an old office building, just as run down as the one you stood in. Unlike the school house, the old office housed a group of criminals. 

Sam Wilson had insisted that he didn’t want to kill them, that he just wanted to talk to them. He wanted to talk them down and tell them to surrender peacefully. If things turned messy, he would give you the signal and you would shoot. The two groups would be standing in the concrete courtyard between the two buildings. At the slightest chance of danger, the slightest chance they weren’t ready to surrender? You would pull the trigger and pop their leader's skull open. 

Sam Wilson and his crew hadn’t been happy to see you when Yelena had brought you to the aircraft for transport. He had taken one look at you, masked, all in black and imploded. 

“Yelena, who the hell is this?” Sam had snapped. Yelena had just laughed at him, motioning for you to sit and buckle in next to her on the aircraft. 

“You told me to get a sniper!” 

It seemed when Sam Wilson had asked for a sniper, he hadn’t asked for you. Ex-widow, criminal, The Shadow. When Yelena had introduced you with your alias, Kate Bishop had gaped at you. Bucky Barnes was tense, you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t recognised your name. Clint Barton seemed neutral, you supposed he was used to dealing with deadly women. 

You found it ironic how upset Sam Wilson was. He had helped Steve Rogers save Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier. You supposed the difference was that Barnes had tried to change when he was freed. Despite the mind control, the torture… he wanted to do good. You were just damaged beyond repair. Sitting there, with those heroes? It made you feel sick. Playing dress up, that’s all it was. 

You had over 700 confirmed kills with your rifle, even more kills if you counted other weapons at your disposal. You were an assassin, a hitwoman, a fucking menace. Bucky Barnes would have more total kills than you, but he had stopped killing. He had felt remorse. You had kept killing, kept digging that hole because it was all you knew how to do. He had been a normal boy before the war. You were a killing machine, a girl robbed of a childhood. If you hadn’t been freed, would have even known about the childhood you had missed? You didn’t remember your mother, nor if you had any siblings. All you had known was cruelty. 

Brushing some of the broken glass away with your foot, you began setting up your rifle. Through the ear-piece you could hear the chatter of the rest of the team as they headed to their spot. You had gone ahead to set up, they were about 20 minutes away from the school house. Gun at the ready, you lay down on your stomach, eye to the scope. 

“In position, over.” You mutter into the ear piece. 

“Copy that, over.” Sam Wilson replied quickly.

You settled into your spot, watching the building ahead. You were a good sniper not only because of your ability to disconnect, but also because of your levels of patience. You had spent days in this exact position, waiting, sweating for your chance at a target. 

By the time the others were in position, you had counted every window in the building across from you. 25 per story, making it 125 all together for all 5 stories. There was movement on the bottom floor and the second. You assumed they didn’t go any higher due to the same reason as you - a crumbling staircase. Each window had blue curtains - different to the beige ones in your room. Nearly all the windows were smashed, except for on the top story that seemed to remain relatively untouched. 

Through the ear-piece you could hear what Sam was saying. Both groups stood in the center of the courtyard, hands on their undrawn weapons. The new generation of Avengers were outnumbered 5 to 1. The tenison was clear, even as Sam tried joking around with the opposing leader. Everything was going smoothly, exactly as planned. That was, until you saw a glint in one of the third story windows. 

You thought you imagined it at first - a trick of the eye. But then you saw it again, and then a third time. There was another sniper, trained directly on Sam Wilson. You didn’t feel stressed by this, it was just another complication in a high-tension mission. It made sense, you had anticipated that maybe your targets would be smart enough to bring a sniper to this ‘talk’. The other sniper was up slightly higher than you - you wouldn’t be able to get a good hit on him unless you went up another couple stories. 

“There’s a sniper, third story. Sixth window to the left.” You breathed into the comms, fully knowing the rest of the team wouldn’t be able to verbally respond. If the opposing side got any indication that you were up there? Game over. They would signal their sniper to take the shot on Sam. It would take hours to pick bits of his skull out of their clothes and hair. 

“I need to change positions to get a better look, keep him talking.” You continue. Slowly, you roll away from the window and drag your gun with you. You needed to keep to the shadows, become a shadow literally. If the sniper spotted you it would be over. 

With a quiet grunt, you pull the gun from the room. Pressing your back against the hallway wall, you quickly rise to your feet and head towards the staircase with a huff. Sam was still rambling on about peaceful surrender over the comms ear-piece, stalling until you could get a better look at the sniper. 

The stairs wobbled and shook as you moved up them quickly and quietly as possible. You could hear chunks of wood and stone crumbling from beneath and falling with each step you took. Opting for the 4th story, you quickly set up in position by a new window. Same torn, beige curtains and shattered glass across the floor.

From this position you had a better look into the third story windows. Looking down, you could see the outline of a body laid flat with the rifle, much like your own position. Due to the broken windows and ripped curtains, you had a fairly clear shot at the figures head as they trained all their focus on what was happening below. 

“I’m going to shoot the sniper first, he has a shot on you Wilson. I’ll still have a clear shot on the target, just might take a moment.” You explain. They don’t reply, as expected. The situation below seems to be growing tense, you can hear the tone of the target's voice growing more aggressive by the second. Lining up your shot on the sniper, you hold your breath. Sam says the signal word. 

You pull the trigger. 

As the shot rings out, the men below scatter. You can hear the rest of the team screaming at you through your ear-piece. It all gets jumbled up, just white noise in your brain as you line up your next shot. This was why you usually worked alone. You didn’t crack under pressure in a situation like this, but having screaming ringing in your ear was bringing you damn near to it. You can’t be bothered listening to what they are yelling about. You didn’t need them telling you that your target was seconds away from escaping your bullet. Didn’t they know you never missed? 

The target was a few feet away from the safety of the building. Chunks of flesh, skull and brains explode across the cracked concrete as you pull the trigger once more. Through the scope, you watch the body slump to the ground, a pool of blood quickly spreading around the corpse. 

“Holy shit!” You hear Kate yell through the ear-piece. You don’t know if she’s complementing your shot or reacting to the spray of blood up the side of the opposite building. The last of the men who scattered stepped over the body, disappearing into the office building. 

“There's another headed for the sniper rifle, Shadow!” Yelena shouts at you through comms. Her and Clint have breached the office, you can see the shape of them fighting through the broken windows. 

“Got it,” You mutter back. You cast a glance at where Sam and Bucky were fighting out in the open. Bucky seems swarmed, trying to shake a man who has wrapped his arms around his throat. You make a silent note of it, casting your scope back to the third story window. The figure that rushes to replace the dead man is quickly taken out by your rifle. He doesn't even get a chance to touch the rifle before his blood paints the wall behind him. 

No one else makes a dash for the sniper rifle. You turn your gaze back to the courtyard, noticing that Bucky is still swarmed by several men. Sam has been pulled too far away from him to help. You can’t see Kate anymore, but from the yelling coming through the comms she is inside the office with Clint and Yelena. 

One of the opposers has picked up a hand-gun and is pointing it squarely at Bucky’s chest as he struggles to get out of the grip of the other men holding him down. Sam barrels towards them, but you know he won’t make it in time. You huff out a sigh, lining up the dangerous shot. You knew if this bullet was at the slight wrong angle it could ricochet directly into Bucky’s chest. 

Is this why Yelena hired you? Because you would make dangerous shots without permission, without regard for human life? Bucky was a super soldier, he could probably survive several gunshot wounds (provided they weren’t directly to the head). Maybe if you cared you would’ve been nervous. Maybe you would’ve hesitated, let your hands shake and sweat. But you don’t care. You disconnect from everything, the shouting through the comms, the sounds of gunshots, the feeling of metal against your skin. You’re not in your body, you are floating above yourself watching the auto-pilot take over. 

You squeeze the trigger. The hand-gun clatters to the ground alongside the attacker. Blood is slick against the paved stones. Through your scope, you swear it has splattered across Bucky’s gruff face. The men attacking Bucky stutter for a moment, giving him the opportunity to shake them off and pummel them with his metal fist. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge what you did.

He doesn’t even say thank you. 

—

One job turned into two. Then two turned into a few more. 

Six months you had been working with Yelena and her crew of disgraced Avengers. You weren't their friends. You didn’t celebrate after missions with them. You kept to yourself, cold and distant. They didn’t know your real name, they hadn’t even seen your face. Yelena would give you a call, pick you up, you would complete the mission, then you would return home. 

You were The Shadow. 

You weren’t a hero. 

Kate and Yelena tried to crack your shell. It usually involved joking and parading around you. All it would earn them was a roll of the eyes and a quiet sigh. Over the comms though, sometimes you would make quiet digs and quips. Clint would roar with laughter, Sam just muttering that he was surprised you had a personality under that mask. 

The mask. Oh, they hated it. 

They were all determined to see beneath it. They made up jokes, stories as to why you wore it. That you were hideously ugly, or scarred beyond human recognition. Bucky seemed to be the only one who understood. He was the only one who was equally as cold to you as you were to him. Your exchanges were brief, usually a series of single words and grunts. It was a relief having someone not trying for your affection at all times. 

Once again, you and your deadly skills were needed for a mission. Another one of Sam’s ‘discussions’ which usually ended with brains splattered across the floor. This time you were in a lightly forested clearing, somewhere in the Estonian wilderness. You were set up in the tree line, laying in a mixture of mud and dead leaves. 

The countryside was peaceful, but gray. Winter was setting in, leaves falling from the birch trees. Their pale trunks were pale against the gray sky that threatened to spill. The breeze was cool, not as cold as Russia had been. No, a Russian winter could be deadly especially the further north you got. You remembered the snow, the discomfort of the cold leaking into your bones. You hadn’t been allowed to complain then, only soldier on. 

“You in position, Shadow?” Yelena asked through the comms. You could see her lips moving through the scope as the group headed towards the designated meeting point. 

“Affirmative. Over.” You state, pushing the ear-piece in a bit further as you settle closer to the cold earth. Relaxing your shoulders with a sharp breath, you surveyed the area through your scope. 

A small group of men had come to meet the team. There were less men than you had anticipated, if a fight ensued it would be one on one. You didn’t like the opponents odds, they looked scruffy, only armed with low-caliber weapons. Definitely not the type to take on a group of superheroes and super soldiers. 

You felt dread sink into your stomach. Something… felt wrong here. Your target reportedly had tons of men at his disposal. It was deep into the Italian mafia, and if they had anything, it was an abundance of men. Where were they all? Was this an ambush? Were they hidden in the brush like you? You could take down a few targets, but you would be more successful with your knives and fists against a small army. Your mind races, along with your gaze as you try to piece it all together. 

“There is something wrong.” You speak into the comms, eyes flickering between Sam and the target as they stood in front of each other. You had done plenty of jobs with the group, all had gone smoothly. But something… something was terribly off here. You could feel it in your gut. The targets men looked antsy, shifting in place. They knew something. They were anticipating something. 

“There’s not enough men. I can’t spot them anywhere in the treelines. Either he’s stupid or this is a set-up.” You ramble into the ear-piece. They can’t respond to you, but you can tell they’re paying attention to your warning. Yelena’s eyes sweep the area, trying to spot more men hidden away somewhere. 

Then, from behind you, you hear the snap of a twig. You spin around, hand flying to your knife. Across from you stand a group of men, armed with shotguns. They’re close, closer than you had realized. You had been too busy trying to figure out where all the men were, trying to anticipate the ambush. You hadn’t realized their ambush was against you. 

This was why you didn’t make friends. Connections. You were too busy worrying about them to realize the immediate danger you were in. The butt of a shotgun cracks against the side of your head. 

Everything goes black. 

—

The mud was cold underneath you, biting into your skin. Your hands were tied, and throughout the intermittent black-outs you recalled being dragged through the dead leaves. You must have been stripped of your weapons, you couldn’t feel the metal of your knives and gun digging in anymore. 

You were bleeding from a head wound, and you were definitely suffering from some kind of concussion. You had touched that throbbing spot with your fingers, rubbing the slick feeling of blood between them. Even through the fabric of your mask, you could feel the sticky blood had spread down the side of your face and neck. A gun was pressed to the back of your skull.

How many men had there been? Had you had a chance to count before you were struck? Had you managed to warn the others before the ear-piece was shattered by the strike? You could still feel bits of plastic and metal digging into your ear along with a high-pitched ringing. You weren’t sure if the ringing was from the ear-piece or from the hit you had received. 

“You really thought I would stand in the open like this? Like a fool?” Your target joked, his Italian accent thick as he laughed heartily. You were kneeling next to him, eyes warily looking between him and the rest of your group who stood across from you. Sam and Bucky looked less than pleased, lips pressed together in tight lines. 

“Rumors have been all through the underground, The Avengers somehow managed to recruit The Shadow?” He continues, still laughing. “Only an idiot would put himself in the open. Taking a chance with The Shadow is asking to have your skull blown open. I am no fool, but maybe you are? Thinking that I would fall for your trick?” 

You can see Yelena trying to keep her cold face on, the one she had given you when she recruited you. It may have fooled the opposition, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She surveyed the mountain of men behind you like she was looking at her next meal. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the back of your skull.

“We didn’t come here to kill you, we came here to negotiate your peaceful surrender.” Sam spoke up, voice gruff and cold. Behind him, you watched Clint’s fingers ghost over the string of his bow.

“Surrender? Why do you bring a sniper to a peaceful negotiation?” The Italian purred, motioning at you with one hand. His fingers were lined with gold rings, they caught the sunlight through the clouds. He had a gun tucked into his belt, a knife holstered on his hip. 

“You know why. Things get messy. Now, we can still negotiate. You let her go and you hand over your weapons. You will be arrested unharmed, along with all of your men. You’ll face a fair trial for your crimes, a chance at a fresh start.” Sam explained. You could practically hear the target losing interest during Sam’s spiel. You watched him fidget impatiently with those golden rings, the way his men shifted uncomfortably behind you. 

“No no.” Your target chuckled, running his fingers over his bushy black mustache. With the swish of his hand, he dismissed the man holding the gun to your head. His hands then found the back of your neck, tugging you to your feet. Fingers under your chin, he forces you to look into his eyes. “Why would I let her go? I didn’t come here to play games with you, Wilson. I came here because I wanted her. Because I knew she would be here.” 

You resisted a flinch as his fingers dug into the skin of your neck, slipping it under the fabric of your mask. With one tug, he pulled the fabric from your face. This had not been the way you had expected this to happen, the way you would reveal your face to the team. You didn’t want them to feel some kind of connection to you, or any kind of guilt if this ended with a bullet in your skull. 

If you had been able to look, you would’ve seen their shocked faces. How they quickly turned to rage on your behalf. You would’ve seen how Bucky’s eyes darted between looking at you and the ground, like he was witnessing something forbidden. 

You imagined you were a sight, blood smeared across your skin from the head wound. Your hair had been perfectly woven into a crown braid, just like how they taught you in the Red Room. It would be lopsided now, chunks pulled out of place and flyaways from being roughly tugged across the ground. That and the layers of mud caked into your clothing. 

“You know, Dreykov would sometimes leant out Widows to important men like me. You were all so beautiful and you all did exactly what you were told. Made to deliver pleasure. So many men, they would ask for you. To get a glimpse at the mysterious Shadow of the Red Room. Dreykov would never let us have you… 

We would wonder if it was because you were hideously ugly? If you had been scarred like his dear Antonia? But looking at you now, you are as beautiful as I imagined. I can’t help but wonder if Dreykov wanted to keep you for himself? He always said you had too much bite for your worth.”

Gaze still cast at the Italian, you don’t see the team's reaction to this. You wouldn't have seen  Yelena's composure slip, how Sam clenched his fist in rage. Instead you stared, silent fury boiling beneath your skin. 

“I wonder how it will feel to break you?” The target hissed. He watched as your blank expression slowly turned into a sneer. Without much thought, you spit a mixture of saliva and blood into his face with a ragged laugh. 

His face contorted in rage, reaching for the gun in his belt. You don’t dodge, willingly letting him strike you across the face with the metal. You stumble backwards, falling to your knees in the mud. Your lip is definitely split, blood dripping to the ground below you. You’re still laughing though, much to the collective horror of everyone. Sam opens his mouth to speak, to demand your release but you cut him off. 

“You men, you are so emotional. You’re so busy pulling out your cock to piss all over everything that you don’t see the small details.” You seeth at the target. He stares at you in shock, completely oblivious to what you have done. What you are about to do. His men, even your group don’t anticipate what is to come next. 

“What are the smaller details?” The target asks, you can sense misguided amusement in his tone.

You don’t reply. He doesn’t have a chance against you. You had already slipped out of your binds. He was so caught up trying to strike you, trying to prove himself a big and scary man, he hadn’t felt it. Your nimble fingers had wrapped around the knife on his hip, he hadn’t noticed how you had ripped it from its holster as you fell backwards. 

The Italian doesn’t get a chance to take another breath before you snap forwards, striking like a snake. You dig the blade into his thigh, purposefully nicking his artery. Blood gushes from the wound the moment you pull the blade back out.  

Things seem to move in slow motion - you see him react - eyes opening in horror and shock as he stumbles back. You are still on your knees, a feral smirk across your face. His gun lifts, intending to shoot but he is too late. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull the gun to the side just as he pulls the trigger. 

The bang deafens you for a moment, ears ringing. The bullet grazes your ear, then lands directly into the stomach of one of his men behind you. The man wails, falling backwards, knocking a few more of the men off their feet in the process. You move quickly, using your body weight to twist the target's arms, flipping him onto his side into the mud. 

The gun falls to the earth with a thud. Your target doesn’t even get a glance at it before you’ve kicked it away in Sam’s direction. The Italian man groans on his back as he bleeds out. You get to your feet, ignoring the panicked shouts from his men beside you as you observe him. 

“You’re bleeding out from your femoral artery.” You explain to him roughly, tilting your head. His hair is thick, black and greasy. A sheen of sweat has come over his pale skin, eyes glazed over. 

“On average it takes two to five minutes to bleed to death from that artery. That’s if you don’t fall unconscious first. Let’s count, shall we? You spent…around thirty seconds swinging that gun around…another thirty listening to me talk…” You drawl. 

Stepping closer, you crouch next to his shivering body. He is trying to stop the bleeding, pressing shaking hands to the open wound. Blood has already begun to pool around him, ruby red and slick. You tut, pushing his hands away with the knife to watch the blood spurt out faster. 

“You have, what? A couple minutes left? Now tell me, before you slip away… When you see God, what will you tell him?” You ask, a feral expression still across your face as you watch his skin grow gray. 

“You fucking bitch!” Your target manages to choke out. You laugh, standing and swinging the knife around. 

“Oho, I don’t think he’ll like that.” You say. An almost animalistic growl leaves your throat as you raise your foot, kicking him squarely in the nose with your boot. He cries out, bone crunching. For a moment you stand there, watching the sniveling man. 

With a sniff, you run your hand roughly over your cheek, wiping some of the blood from your skin. Then, your gaze falls on the group of men left. They are watching you in silent horror. You can’t imagine what you look like, covered in blood and mud, armed with only a hunting knife. You assess them with a predator's gaze, menacing and bloodthirsty and the men cower back despite being armed with guns. 

“We don’t want any trouble.” One stutters out. 

For a moment, you forget the rest of your team are feet away. You consider letting the wrath consume you. You could tear these men apart with your hands, teeth and nails. You imagine plucking out their eyes, teaching them what happens to men who see your face. 

“Shadow.” Yelena calls you. Your eyes snap to hers. 

Pulled from your trance, you run a tongue over your split lip. The act is near animalistic, a cat tending its wounds. Then, with a shrug sent in Sam’s direction you stalk over to Yelena. Sam, to his credit, quickly composes himself and instructs the group of men to drop their weapons and line up. 

“Are you alright?” Yelena asks as you pause in front of her. You don’t feel like answering that question right now. 

If it weren’t for the cold wrath that had taken over your body, you would imagine you would be shaking. Men like that made your skin crawl, made you revert back to how you had felt in the Red Room. It made you sick to your stomach, knowing that despite everything men like that still existed. You would kill one man and another would grow in his place. You had been lucky to escape. That no matter what, there would always be more places like the Red Room. Even if they weren’t to breed killers and spies, they would still use the bodies of women. Powerful men would use their authority to control innocent girls for the rest of time. Those girls couldn't all be saved. They wouldn’t be saved. 

“I need to retrieve my gun.” You reply thickly, nodding your head in the direction of the treeline. Your knives and other gear would have also been abandoned nearby, that’s if the men hadn’t pocketed it for themselves. 

“Go ahead.” Yelena says, thankfully not pressing you on your emotional state. She seems to sense your unease and your unwillingness to hang around. You pass by her and a gaping Kate. You needed to clear your head before you faced the rest of them. With the mask, you could hide your emotions. Now, without it, you felt exposed. You wouldn’t let them see you crack. They would have been trained to sense the slightest change in your facial expressions, to be able to interpret exactly how you were feeling. 

“Shadow?” Yelena calls, you glance over your shoulder reluctantly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Nice to finally see you. The real you.” She says, a subtle grin tugging at her lips. 

All you can do is hum in response. Though, as you trudge towards the tree line, a small smile forms over your bloodied face. 

PART TWO

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #black widow #the black widow #natasha romanoff #yelena boleva #yelena x y/n #yelena x you #yelena belova x reader #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel #red room #the shadow

[dreadfutures]

I have this whole fic idea for what Emily and Corvo are doing during Death of the Outsider and wrote this on my phone just now. sorry it's rough shsjdkdkdj

Corvo is having nightmares, which then turn out to be actually memories of himself in another timeline where he was the one facing Delilah. That Corvo did a high chaos run, but this Corvo is horrified by the dreams and the implications of who he was and what he did.

Emily notices her father is growing agitated and isn't sleeping well, and she figures the Outsider might have something to do with it.

-:-:-

"It's not her."

Emily whips around, time slowing as she prepares to dodge an assassin, or clockwork soldier, or none of those things at all because the voice registers in her mind half a moment later, and she knows he is no threat. She knows it in her bones, knows it like the certainty of her next breath: he is not harmless, but he will not harm her himself.

So when she sees the Outsider leaning against the pillar behind her, she does not draw her gun.

The Outsider does not move his eyes from her face, though she knows this only in her gut and not from looking at him. They stare at each other in silence, in the wan Dunwall afternoon, and the forlorn cries of gulls fade away in the distance as he draws her mind into the Void, even while awake.

The sky is suddenly dark, and sunlight is cast in pale ripples across the whole world, a that is when he tilts his head slightly toward the grave.

"It's not her, I promise that. You saw to it--the true end of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin. I thought that might give a sense of finality to it, and yet, here she haunts."

Emily's jaw tightens. "It was final," she says, wary and angry all together. "For *me.* But he's...struggling. The world changed so much while he was in stone, and... He didn't get to say goodbye, like I did."

"That's because he wouldn't have," the Outsider said with a shrug.

The Empress clenches her marked fist at her side. "How do you know? Do you dangle it in front of him in his dreams? That hardly--"

"I don't have to," interrupts the Outsider calmly. "Dear Corvo's nightmares are all of his own making."

A shiver runs down her spine at his cold words, and a memory resurfaces of the clammy nightmares she had long ago in the Hound Pitts Pub when she'd put a whalebone rune under her pillow. Chilly dreams of the Outsider surveying the political players of the day, examining them as they examined her from every angle and finding them wanting just as they found her. They had jeered at her: too young, too fickle, too impetuous. Of course, the Outsider, old as he is, could say the same for all of them.

The judgement in his black eyes was never cruel, but it was never kind, either.

"So you're not toying with him?" Emily asks, shaking the vision of the looming Outsider in her memory and glaring instead at the one in front of her. It was good to remember he was shorter than her, now; a boy frozen in time who was far less menacing now than when she was ten.

"Your father always asks me that. From a certain angle, I can't blame him," the Outsider says, circling her slowly. The air moves strangely around him, thick like water. "But the strings that pull him and his blade aren't mine, and deep down, he knows it. And you?" A mirthless sound leaves him that might be a laugh, if he were amused by much. "I dont control you like chess pieces on a board. Never had the chance to learn. And if you're thinking of cats and mice..."

The Outsider is suddenly very close, floating at eye level with her so she can see the grimy streaks left on his face as if his black eyes had shed tarry tears.

"Sorry to disappoint. I'm not interested in eating you."

"If you're not playing with him, then what's happening?" she asks, batting him away like the smoke of a noxious cigar. "Something has upset him. It's making him waste away, I can feel it, but he refuses to talk to me."

"Oh, and he just loves talking to me, does he?"

This does genuinely seem to amuse him, and Emily is secretly relieved. Entertaining the god seems to be the surest way to coax good will from him, and for her father's sake, she needs some.

"Fortunately for both you and dear Corvo, I did not stop watching you, not even now that your throne is secure and your name washed clean of dishonor." The Outsider is *definitely* amused. "Do you remember the crack in the slab of reality you slipped through, splinters of past and present needling into your forward path at Stilton's manor?"

Emily rolls her eyes as the Outsider waxes poetic. "I'll never forget your little inventions," she replies. "Giant dragonfly wings on a... whatever organ that 'timepiece' was."

The Outsider crouches behind her mother's headstone now, hands dangling over his knees, and looks up at Emily with a cracked squint as if she is too bright to look at.

"Time is wounded still, wrapped around you both like waves breaking against the two statues you were in both Dunwalls," he says, studying her. "Just keep your heads above water for now, and let the experienced sailors navigate this storm."

Emily considers this non-explanation and isn't sure what to do with it. At its heart, she knows he's telling her--for some gods damned reason--not to worry about it.

It's not good enough.

Emily hopes her mother would be proud of her as she lunges over the gravestone and reaches for the Outsider. She knows Corvo would be, as her hands close around the boy's scrawny wrist and yanks him upright.

"I want to know what's happening to him," she says, enunciating each word with deadly patience. Up close, he really does just look like a half-drowner beggar boy, and she isn't scared of him. She isn't.

"There's darkness inside everyone, whether I tether them to a piece of the void or not," the Outsider says, dangling from her grip without any indication of discomfort. Perhaps he recognizes it as a fair trade for the time he pulled her into the Void and straight off a cliff.

"The urge to jump off the bridge when you should pull back from the edge--or to push someone else... It's in each and every one of you. Even your father."

The Outsider's eyes gleam in the dying light preserved here in the Void, each wet pinprick of light part of some larger, unknowable constellation.

"Tell me," he says, tilting his head, "did you show such compassion on your road back to your throne because Corvo raised you to be such a good little girl? Did you aspire to have as gentle touch as he did long ago, even when he was a weapon in the hands of the dirtiest schemers in the Empire?"

Emily grits her teeth and prepares to reiterate her demand to the Outsider, but he continues quickly so that she does not have time to waste her breath.

"It's okay, I know you're not a philosopher," he says, sneering harmlessly. "I'll tell you the answer: every choice was your own. Because what I've seen is that put in your shoes, dear Corvo would disappoint--me, you, and himself most of all."

Emily knows despite the insult in his tone, the Outsider has thought her to be a clever one. And she strives to live up to that moniker, as much as she would be embarrassed to admit it. So presented with the same puzzle now from several opaque and poetic angles, she does her best to piece things together.

The Outsider smiles, almost dotingly.

"You have the same frown on your face as when you're planning your route across a ravine full of Howlers," he says.

"You are about as annoying as a pack of Howlers, if I'm being honest," she replies, toothless with distraction. "Are you saying there was...another past, where Corvo faced Delilah? Did he come back in time and change things and I don't know about it?"

"Not quite," the Outsider says, "but very, *very* close, Your Majesty. An alternate timeline spins away, just out of reach from this one like the hands in a clock--but for better or worse, they are about to cross."

Emily feels like the blood has drained from her head too fast, and, dizzied, she releases the Outsider. He remains floating at the same level as before, to humor her.

"And in the alternate timeline, he--"

"Ask yourself, Emily Kaldwin, if you really know what you're asking," the Outsider says, and the amusement is gone. The warmth in his chilling voice has vanished. He may think she is Clever, but he has the knowledge of the field and she is woefully blind, and he is growing bored of steering the two of them through this conversation. "I have never had an interest in preserving your father or even you. That instinct is shared between the two of you alone. Let it serve you, while Billie Lurk learns whether she cut the instinct out of herself or not."

And like that, the shrieks of seagulls pierce the air. The Outsider is gone, and Emily Kaldwin is left with more questions than she began with.

#dishonored fanfic #dishonored 2 #death of the outsider #emily kaldwin & the outsider #genfic

[bookishpower]

A thought. Maybe others have had it, it’s likely, I’m just wondering in the wake of last Sunday’s Succession episode. It’s all about symmetry, and about people not changing that much, and if it’s right, it’s not good for Shiv.

Logan had two siblings - a brother, Ewan, with whom he’s on bad terms, and a sister, Rose, whose death he seems to feel responsible for. Ignoring Connor, as everyone else seems to, Logan has three children - two boys and a girl, the same as he grew up in. Each of them may be starting to mirror Logan or one of his siblings as the season progresses.

We’re seeing Kendall start to mirror his father’s boldness and cruelty as soon as the torch is passed to him. If I’d had to guess before this season, I would have said he’d mirror Ewan, with his self-aggrandizing stance against his brother. But no, he’s showing teeth that Logan would be proud of. Maybe he’s Logan Lite, or perhaps he’s Logan’s counterpart for a new generation. Or perhaps he’ll turn it around and become Ewan’s counterpart by reacting violently against a decision of Roman’s.

Roman is feeling more and more out of step with the family that he’s grown up in. His father has demanded that he betray his siblings and work with him, and after the way his siblings treat him, it’s not a complete shocker. But then his father turns around and demands that Roman be the one to deliver the death blow to Roman’s partner/advisor/not-quite-lover to prove his loyalty. He seems to be the only one of the three actually concerned with “The Hundred” as a project between the three of them. Maybe he’s the Ewan counterpart. Ewan’s dogged stand on morals doesn’t seem like something Roman would endorse. Perhaps he’ll become the new Logan. Then again, we’re seeing Roman show empathy to Connor, to Willa, and most significantly, to Kerry in this season. Perhaps he really is the Ewan counterpart.

Shiv, however...while there’s a possibility that she could have an Ewan-style turn back to ethics and her original political career...I don’t think so. This puts her uncomfortably in the position of being the Rose counterpart, unless she can launch a coup and wrest control of the company from her brothers. 

It’s difficult to say for certain, because all we know of Rose is that she was the youngest sibling, she died in circumstances unknown, and Logan blames himself for her death, despite Ewan telling him he’s not to blame for it (significant, since he blames Logan for everything else). Logan also seems to be protective of her - during his UTI delusions, he wanted the “dead cat” removed, but didn’t want Rose to see it. He also, as close-ups indicated, wanted Rose’s picture in his hand or his pocket when he’s laid to rest. Logan’s nickname for Shiv is “Pinky” - a synonym for the color of “Rose.”

Shiv seems to be more and more shoved to the side, more and more isolated. She can’t tell her estranged husband she’s pregnant, and doesn’t dare tell her brothers for fear that they might use that information against her. We’ve had some hints of danger around a pregnancy before - the Sporus/Nero/Poppea thing, as well as Shiv tripping down the stairs in the same episode we find out about her pregnancy. 

I guess this comes down to two things - I’m worried for Shiv, and I really wonder what happened to Rose.

#succession #logan roy #ewan roy #rose roy #kendall roy #roman roy #shiv roy

[faememes]

𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐑 (𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟏) 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

TW: BLOOD, WAR, SWEARING, PREGNANCY MENTION, DEATH MENTION

Change pronouns/titles as needed!

"The mission I am asking you to volunteer for is exceptionally dangerous. Take a look at the man beside you. It's a good bet that in the next six weeks, you, or he, will be dead. Everyone brave enough to accept this...step forward."

"Your grandma could take a B-25 off a mile-long runway. Well, I'm gonna train you to do it at 467 feet, because at 468 feet, you're dead, and once you get it up, you're gonna learn to fly it like a fighter. Thirty feet off the ground. I want you to say hello to Lt _________, Navy Aviation. He's gonna help us lighten these fat ladies here."

"Yesterday, December 7th, 1941, a date which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the empire of Japan. It is obvious that planning the attack began many weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace. The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American military forces. I regret to tell you that over 3,000 American lives have been lost. No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory. Because of this unprovoked dastardly attack by Japan, I ask that Congress declare a state of war."

"When the action is over and we look back, we understand both more and less. This much is certain. Before the Doolittle raid, America knew nothing but defeat. After it, nothing but victory. Japan realized, for the first time, that they could lose and began to pull back. America realized that she would win and surged forward. It was a war that changed America. Dorie Miller was the first black American to be awarded the Navy Cross, but he would not be the last. He joined a brotherhood of heroes."

"Slow down, flyboy. And instead of the bottom, read the very top. Both eyes."

"World War II, for us, began at Pearl Harbor, and 1,177 men still lie entombed in the battleship Arizona. America suffered, but America grew stronger. It was not inevitable. The times tried our souls...and through the trial, we overcame."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I really am, but Army and Navy requires 20/20 vision."

"From Berlin, Rome, and Tokyo, we have been described as a nation of weaklings and playboys who hire British or Russian or Chinese soldiers to do our fighting for us. Let them repeat that now. Let them tell that to General MacArthur and his men. Let them tell that to the soldiers who today are fighting hard in the far waters of the Pacific. Let them tell that to the boys in the Flying Fortresses. Let them tell that to the Marines."

"Oh, I... It's not a problem with my eyes. I mean, I can see. I mean, I can hit a runnin' rabbit with a three-dollar pistol. I got a problem with letters, that's all."

"You are so beautiful, it hurts."

"________, you can't die. You can't die. You know why? Because you're going to be a father. You're going to be a daddy. I wasn't supposed to tell you. You're going to be a father."

"_______, I'm pregnant... I didn't even know until the day you turned up alive... and then all this happened... I haven't told _______... I don't want him to know. All he needs to think about is how to do this mission and get back alive."

"Most nurses would've gone on to somebody else instead of keeping their fingers plugged in your artery."

"Oh ______, all I ever wanted was for us to have a home and grow old together, but life never asked me what I wanted. Now I'm going to give _______ my whole heart... but I don't think I'll ever look at another sunset without thinking of you... I'll love you my whole life."

"You know, the only thing that scares me is that you might love him more than you love me."

"If I had one more night to live... I'd wanna spend it with you."

"I joined the army to do MY patriotic duty... AND... to meet guys."

"You're acting like I didn't love you."

"I almost did die, you little son-of-a-bitch. And her face was the last thing that went through my mind."

"I should've died over there. When I was in that water, I made a deal with God. I told him I was sorry, I told him I knew I'd been a fool for leavin you and tryin to go over there and be a hero, and I promised I'd never ask for anything again, if I could just see you one more time... And ya know what? It was worth it. You kept me alive _______, you brought me home. So I'm gonna stand by my end of the deal, I'm gonna walk away, and I won't ask you for anything... but I just want to know why... Just tell me that, will you please? Just tell me why."

"He told me you were a great flyer... The same night he told me, he volunteered to go to England."

"________, loving you kept me alive."

"He volunteered? He-he told me he'd been assigned. He was always tryin' to protect me. But ya know what? I look at myself in the mirror in this uniform... and I still don't know who I am, I look like a hero... but I don't feel like it."

"That's what I want to come home to. That's what I want to have to think about and dream about. I wanna know that the best part of my life is still ahead of me."

#rp meme #sentence starter meme #sentence meme #sentence rp meme #ww2 rp #wwii rp #history rp #ww2 rp meme #pearl harbor 2001 rp #pearl harbor 2001 rp meme

[your-pal-nebula]

Hey guys.

You all probably know about the WG OCs I've already announced to the internet, Silver Boxleitner, Cori Worst, and Alynxai.

But there is... one last OC I haven't announced.

I created her when I was 11 and first joined the WG fandom. She's a little cringe, but, just to tease you guys for when I finally post her reference sheet and full backstory...

Here's a random oneshot about her.

-----

There was an urban legend going around Fair City. It had to do with the new kid at the 5th grade. She'd moved in a few weeks ago to live her adult cousin, for reasons she wouldn't really explain. When asked why, she wouldn't say anymore than "My mother went to prison and my father's dead."

She would get very, very angry if anybody tried to ask her what her mother did to get there or why her father died.

Though... just about everything made her angry. She hated everyone who so much as breathed in her direction. Her rudeness didn't discriminate. Everyone got the message fairly quickly: Stay away from the new girl, she hates everyone equally.

Well, technically... she didn't. There was one certain boy genius who she, one, was the only person she was actually nice to, and two, who she stared at like he was a piece of meat to be consumed.

Oh, and... that.

She ate raw meat on her sandwiches during lunch.

Either way, the kids there had very good reasons to be scared of her, and that's what most adults assumed spawned the urban legend.

But no, Kyle Worst, younger brother of Corinne "Cori" Worst, knew what he was talking about.

When he said that on the full moon, he saw Marleen Everwood in her cousin's backyard, running around with fur-covered legs and arms, howling at the moon before she ran off into the forest, he knew it.

But the thing about Kyle was that he was an eight year old and an infamous attention whore, so most were... unlikely to believe him.

Though, her having wolf DNA did explain a lot.

It explained the raw meat thing.

It explained her uncannily good sense of hearing and smell.

And...

Maybe the curse of wolf DNA had something to do with her mother's prison sentence.

Maybe it even had something to do with her father's death.

But it's just an urban legend spread by a silly little boy, right?

Marleen Everwood might be a huge asshole to everyone except Tobey, but she wasn't... inhuman, right?

-----

Hey guys, oneshot's over, but I already would like to confirm something about The Lore of Your-Pal-Nebula's WG OCs, specifically about Marleen, cuz even though yall literally just learned she even exists... I feel like I'll need to clarify this

They don't

They don't happen

Fun fact:

The reason I even posted about Marleen Everwood was because of that OCswap AU I'm making (the one where my OCs are swapped with canon) because... I need to establish who Marleen is and what she does before we meet what she's like in an AU

#wordgirl #wordgirl oc #marleen everwood

[bitebitesnap]

What would either twin be like as a papa. With like a little mini me of them following them around?

h-how long have you been in here-

Ingo

He's unsure at first. Him? You want him? The subway man, the battle line boss-you want that as father to your children? Wouldn't you want someone more...deserving? He can barely keep his brother in line and you still want him to sire you?

Shut him up before he overthinks himself to death.

Though he hesitated your eagerness definitely gets him down the right path soon enough, muttering the filthiest things into your ears as you cum on his cock.

And it works. Months down the line he's a proud father of a little girl, her locks streaked with silver.

Somehow he's still a little nervous despite everything, but you can tell he's going to be fine. He holds her very closely as an infant, multitasking between helping you with the cooking and doing random chores all over the apartment.

Emmet being your neighbor helps keep his nerves in check. He doesn't have to bounce between worrying over his daughter and keeping Emmet from causing some kind of work riot-you laugh but it nearly happened when they were depot agents.

It quickly becomes apparent how much of a Daddy's girl she is once she's old enough to walk. She's around him so much you fear she won't be able to ever make it to kindergarten-which ends up becoming true, to your grief. Ingo is called to pacify the little girl and he even shows up in his uniform, something she's immediately taken to. He ends up leaving his hat with her because she took it and he couldn't bear to part her from it.

He ends up taking her to work a lot. She's fascinated by the trains- though not to the extent the twins are-but is more so enthralled by the way her father acts within the station. Everyone listens to what he has to say, how he can simply enter a conversation without so much as a 'hello' to enforce the strict rules of the station.

She gets so immersed by the command her father has that she interjects during a passenger complaint about how legendaries aren't allowed on the rails no matter how small so a Celibi counts as an infraction, though she cowers behind Ingo's leg the moment their attention is on her.

All Ingo does is glance back at the passenger with a blank stare, "Well? You heard the lady."

Emmet

Emmet isn't too sure about kids. Not because he doesn't want them, of course! It's just that....his face...his voice...

He's terrified that he might be too much, that his voice will be scary or that his face won't reflect his feelings. He could never imagine forcing a child to go through with having only one parent love them....are you sure?

Coax him gently, make him comfortable with the idea. He can handle the rest.

And he can definitely handle it-it doesn't take even a month before you've been thoroughly bred on every surface. Soon enough he's gifted with the smallest little boy, stark white hair plastered to his pale face.

Albino, that's what the doctor said. If he wasn't certain then the pink eyes would be evidence enough. He didn't even know they had albino genes in their family tree, let alone that he was a carrier. Drayden confirms it later when he calls him-apparently they have a distant cousin who's also albino. Who knew?

Don't tell him that his silver hair was probably a hint towards it, he'll deny it and say he's just special.

He may be afraid of how his face sits permanently in one expression, but even people who don't know him can see the sheer amount of love he has for his little boy. It's not so much in his face so much as his hands- he keeps his attention on him at all times. If you're going somewhere, he's going too. Grocery shopping? He's carrying the bags. To the theater? He's watching over your son while you go out-you want him to come with? He's sitting in the special booth for younger kids in the back.

He dotes on him so much the boy becomes attached to him like glue. You're never separating them, not without a lot of effort and tears at first. He's terribly shy, you come to know, partly because Emmet keeps doing all the talking for him.

He goes so far as to follow him to work-more accurately, Emmet carries him to the station and then refuses to put him down. At every given opportunity he's burying his face into the lapels of his uniform, sometimes with Emmet simply allowing him to hide under his coat against his chest.

There are the rare times when he lets the boy follow him on his own and many agents will argue those are the best. His stride shortens drastically, pace slowed to a near crawl as the boy hides beneath his coattail. It's not uncommon to find him simply standing near the rails completely stationary, his son close at hand with his little hands gripping his slacks while watching the train whip down the rails. His features are surprisingly placid, the smile on his face calm and natural. Until something happens that drags his attention away at least, then he's off at a pace with a white haired shadow at his heels.

Don't try to insult or interact with his boy if you're being difficult. He will punch you.

#asks #subway bosses #subway boss emmet

[villabella12]

@arcvmonth Day 18: D/D/D - Different Dimension Day (Pt. II)

Second part of the same prompt since there's little context provided there but here's some concepts + an AU I forgot to add in the previous post I have for the last two on the same post but then again, I'm no writer, I just wanted to share stuff

A bit heads up: I will spoil the name of my OCs in this post but the design of them will be out next week

TW: Mention of Scars

The Cards Has Bodies In Them

Rhen Dharmas' origins dated WAY back in the early 1930s, with a farmer from a european village picking up the first ever card of its kind and slowly but surely turns him and the rest of the town into cards

A bit of a fruitshipping moments here and there (Yuzu going absolute bonkers whenever someone tries to harm her "boyfriend" while he's in his draconic form)

The thief could be a minor character from Zexal (either Erazor or that gangster duo Shark used to hangout) or someone entirely new who wanted the Rhen Dharmas to exploit them to win multiple duels

Maria was the one who brought up the entire "Rhen-Dharma" conspiracy, does research abt it, HASNT SLEPT IN DAYS, friends suspect it would be the influence that's driving her crazy, nearly drowned in her brother's bathtub, nearly SLIT HER NECK FOR A SACRIFICE, then was sent to the hospital and she's alright... for now...

Interesting lore drop between a conversation Maria and her ace monster, Ibong Adarna (they/them) have regarding Duel Monsters and their secrets overall

1V2 between the thief and Yuya (in his draconic form) and Maria (OC)

^ An INCREDIBLY intense and brutal duel that Yuya will never forget, even worst than the ones he had faced during the Dimensional War because

^ 1. The monster's effect may inflict damage but the way it did is a bit of a horrific process and 2. If they lose they'll turn into ACTUAL Monster Cards

Sawatari has character development :)

Also Maria bonding with the XYZ gang cus they like her energy + she needs more friends

Raya being sketchy (not in a bad way nor a good way)

Yuya still has nightmares abt losing control & harming his friends whilst hes in his draconic form and fears that those nightmares might come true someday (it did...)

And then he learns to find ways on how to live with it, and learns to accept it as a part of himself, despite his wishes for it to be gone

Duelists in the Backrooms

Maria also learns how to let go of the burden to protect others over herself and also lets herself be more open

Concepts of this AU is being brainstormed over so here's maybe a sneak peak of how it plays out

There are four groups that reside in a specific level in the backrooms: The Lancers (Level 170), The Resistance (Level 20), The "Signers" (Level 11.1), and The Rebellion (Level 179)

There isn't as much duels in this AU unlike TCHBIT, the duels only happen if there's a misunderstanding or disagreement

There's also solo survivors that doesn't join a specific group and/or joins them but just survive independently (i.e Maria, Meiru, Dennis, Michio, and Asuka)

Instead of dying and losing their items, they just restart to a completely different level and their items will be scattered around them once they restart (meaning they're going to be stuck in an endless loop of survival and death)

^ The wounds they have obtain from fighting the entities will also appear as scars

Theres going to be underrated duo moments here and there, some are serious, some are not

Summoning Monsters can also be helpful for combat and transportation but are limited due to certain levels being strict abt said monsters

Zarc and Ray's influence over the Yu-Boys and Bracelets Girls are stronger than in canon

Leo has something to do with all characters being stuck in the backrooms

The characters aged regularly but due to how slow the time in the backrooms are, their bodies ages slowly (in this au)

The Curse That Will Never Be Unfold

The father side of Yuya's family owns a really popular circus, with his father, Yusho, being a ringmaster and him being one of those a daredevil acrobats

His mother is a gang leader (that doesnt terrorize) like in the anime, but instead of retiring from it she continues to help others with her gang

Yuzu is somewhat a badass bard warrior, her main weapon being the violin. Her father, Shuzo, owns a instrument shop and works alongside with Yusho

Raya, Gongenzaka, and Sawatari are somewhat townies (with one of them being secretly a samurai warrior) that soon learned to fight with secret abilities they didnt know exist within them

^ Maria can transform into certain terrains (small terrains) and also animals that may represent, symbolizes, or is connected with nature

Maria is a forest spirit that is under Lethia's mentorship, alongside her twin brother, Mariano, and younger twin siblings, Olive and Oliver

^ Born from the blood of two humans that were received from a cut during their work hours that soon dropped into the leaves, grows out of a giant ass flower, then the couple proceeds to drop one into the water and then BOOM her brother is born out of a seashell

(^ Then they decide to do it again 10 years later then was given the results, a fire and air child...)

Yuto, Ruri, and Shun will accompany the group at some point, with the three of them developing a close bond the group, especially Maria

The Synchro and Fusion squad will appear but idk what their roles are still...

Zarc and Coralline are siblings, with him being the god of destruction and her being the goddess of death, underneath the alias, Morgana

^ Zarc and Ray are still bitter enemies, but over time grew close as Zarc starts to realize that he is not the villain that everyone thought of him was

^ Zarc doesnt have a close relationship with his siblings. He, Virgil, and Carolyn always fights, he and Cora arent really close, and Marilena is deeply afraid of him. He hates to admit it but, he wishes he can spend more time with them but his lust for violence prevents him from doing so

^ Also she fell in love with a human who has secret eldritch magic, in which enrages Zarc, gets teased by Virgil and Carolyn, but Marilena is oblivious to the concept of love (despite being the goddess of love herself lmao)

Cora and Maria are besties secretly, neither of their friend group (minus Cora's) knows abt it

#arcvmonth #arcvmonth2023 #yugioh arc v #ygo arc v #arc v

[sallyastral]

- OCs introductions -

I don’t have many OCs to be honest, I have a few for Genshin Impact and much more for Devil May Cry, but I thought it could be cool to make some intros for them lmao 

GENSHIN IMPACT OCS: 

- Kame

Name: Kame, name that in Japanese means "turtle", a symbol of "eternity".

Gender: Female.

Age: 15/16.

Specie: Goddess, daughter of Raiden Ei and Morax.

Personality: quiet, taciturn, calm, very similar to her father's character, she is extremely hardworking and a lover of the family. She often tends to get exhausted with study and work, which leads her to be nervous, stressed and angry at certain times.

Kame is Morax and Raiden Ei's daughter. Her birth was well received by both the people of Inazuma and Liyue and the rest of the Seven, but not by Celestia, who absolutely did not agree on the birth of the new goddess: the 7 Archons had to remain such, not one less, not one more. For this Celestia ordered the two gods to find a solution as soon as possible, or they would kill the child without any mercy. There were two solutions: either they could have killed one of the other Archons, risking massive wars, or one of the two parents would have to leave the Archon's place forever. 

So, Morax took on this responsibility: he stayed with Ei in Inazuma until the birth, then left for Liyue, faked his own death and started his life as Zhongli working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.Ei and Yae Miko, the only ones to know the truth about the matter, decided to raise Kame without ever letting her know anything. Ei, destroyed by grief, declared the beginning of the Vision Hunt Decree and the Sakoku Decree, and then later isolated herself in the Plan of Euthymia, leaving Yae the task of educating and raising Kame. 

Kame was thus raised practically only by Yae Miko, seeing her mother for a short time and not very often. She was immediately told what her job was: to become Morax's heir and rule over Liyue, upholding her father's honor. She was taught appropriate behavior lessons, prayers, rituals, and of course math, accounting, law and money management. 

Upon reaching the age of 15, Kame went with Yae and Ei to Liyue, where she would be officially introduced to the people as the new Archon, and where she would meet Ningguang, the Liyue Qixing, and the Adepti. All of them attended the grand ceremony in her honor, which was also attended by Zhongli, the Traveler, Paimon and Hu Tao, as they were the ones who took care of Morax's funeral. However, something unexpected happened during the ceremony: Childe, one of the Harbingers of the Fatui, freed Osial from his seal. So Kame immediately had to prove her worth to everyone, protecting her city also thanks to the help of the Traveler, Ningguang and the Adepti.

 Things got complicated for Zhongli too though: he was terrified of letting his own daughter fight alone for fear that she might die, but if he intervened he would have to show his identity. However, there was no need for his intervention, and Kame was recognized by the people as their true goddess.Time passed, without Kame finding out about Zhongli. Until one day she saw him exchanging his Gnosis with Childe and Pierro, for the protection of Kame and Liyue. 

She quarreled with her mother because she had never told her the truth, and ran away from home. Although Ningguang had mobilized the entire army to find Kame, Zhongli's intervention was necessary to get her back home, after having explained the whole real story together with Ei. Both the people and Celestia decided to leave them alive, as long as Zhongli never interfered in Liyue's political affairs again. Thus, Kame was able to live with her family, finally reunited.

- Isaac 

Name: Isaac

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Species: Human, son of Childe and Lumine

Personality: Isaac is an intelligent, determined and shrewd boy, just like his father. He manages to find a solution to any complicated situation that comes his way, even if he is sometimes too hasty. While his plans often endanger both him and the people around him, they work. He's also a womanizer, and he flirts very often with every girl his age or so he knows, and he has no problem flirting shamelessly with the goddess Kame, who is actually his real love interest. He knows perfectly well that Kame loves him, and that's why he lovingly teases her. However, he LOVES making her jealous, and he also gives the same attention to other Liyue girls.

Isaac is the first child of Childe and Lumine, and has 4 siblings: 12-year-old Aleksandr, 7-year-old twins Beatrisa and Katyusha, and a little brother or sister who has yet to be born. When Isaac was little, Childe was still working in the Fatui despite planning to leave the job as Harbinger, also due to Lumine who kept asking him to stay at home with her and her children. However, due to Signora's death and the cr**** that had arisen among the Fatui, he decided to continue working there, also because they needed a lot of money to support four children, along with Childe's family in Snezhnaya. When Childe wasn't working, she spent time at home, and went fishing very often with Isaac. Or, when Isaac turned 10, he taught him to use his first bow.

When Childe was involved in the mission of obtaining the Gnosis of Morax without his knowledge, he finally decided to give up the organization of the Fatui. He felt betrayed, and promised to spend more time with his family. However, money began to run out in the family: Childe no longer had a job and Lumine was making too little money on commissions at Adventurer's Guild. Isaac was forced to start working at 16/17 years old. He thought that selling the fish he caught at Liyue Harbor Market might be profitable, but he soon realized he wasn't profitable enough, and had to look for another job.

He tried to persuade his father to let him join the Fatui, but Childe strongly opposed it: after the efforts he had made to protect his family from that organization, it would have been too dangerous and unacceptable for his son to be part of it. Isaac though, who was stubborn, joined the organization anyway, under Dottore's division. By working half a day for the Fatui and half a day at the port, he managed to obtain a considerable amount of daily money to take home, without arousing any suspicion. Meanwhile, Childe was looking for a job that would convince him, but either he wasn't hired because of his previous profession, or he didn't like the job itself at all.

After some time this situation went on, an old friend of Childe's offered him one last criminal blow to do with the Fatui, where he would certainly get a huge sum of money that would fix him and his family for at least a year. So, secretly from Lumine, Childe participated in the blow, but ... discovered that Isaac was also part of it. Isaac was however endangering everyone in his plan to carry out the mission, and Childe was forced to help him to prevent both of them from dying, and the mission was successful. Once back home, convinced that they were alone, the two started yelling at each other. Childe was totally disappointed in his son, he no longer even considered him a descendant of him, he was disgusted. At the same time Isaac tried to justify himself with the excuse that he was doing it to help the family, not because he wanted to disobey his father's orders. At that moment, Lumine walked into the room, having listened to their whole big fight. In a calm, almost icy tone, she told them they were two monsters, she no longer recognized them: they had lost her trust in her, and it would take some time to win her back. After that, she kicked them both out of the house.

The two, estranged from their own family, agreed on what they had to do: they were both in the wrong, and so they had to regain the trust of Lumine, who in the meantime had lied to the younger children by inventing an excuse so Childe and Isaac weren't home. Isaac thus began to work seriously at the market, catching more fish and selling it at slightly higher prices, while Childe, inspired by his twins and Teucer, effectively became a seller of toys created by him. Lumine forgave them, acknowledging that they are both hard-headed and that she could do little about it, but at least they had pledged to be forgiven for the good of the family. Thus, they all returned to live together in harmony.

DEVIL MAY CRY OCS: 

- Beatrice 

Name: Beatrice  Gender: Female  Age: 16  Species: one-quarter demon, Dante and Lady’s first daughter Personality: She’s generally a very sunny, energetic and determined girl, always doing whatever she wants or pops up in her mind without really minding the consequences her actions might have. Beatrice has a friendly and charming behavior, she’s able to get along with basically anyone at first, but stubbornness often brings her in conflicts with certain people. She can be extremely sincere and perhaps too bold, saying what she thinks directly and quite bluntly, even if she doesn't do it maliciously. Those who know her well, however, describe her as a girl with a heart of gold, ready to help family and friends in need. The girl's determination and excessive stubbornness, probably inherited from a very young Dante, are the major flaws: while these two traits can be extremely useful, they are also a double-bladed weapon, often leading to her getting into trouble or arguing with someone. Bea never listens to anyone, convinced that she can do it all by herself despite her health situation, and has a great emotional stamina that leads her to push herself to the limit in fights. While in an argument, Bea will rarely admit when she’s wrong, always insisting on her point, unless someone makes her understand she needs to shut up and listen for once.  Deep down though, she is extremely insecure about her physical condition, about herself. Her difficult life experiences led her to hate certain parts of herself, and to become in need of affection from her family, from which she has been separated for a long time. Beatrice is constantly looking for validation from someone, especially from her dad Dante, trying to make him proud or looking for affection and comfort. But as mentioned above, her uncontrollable stubbornness often drives those around her away, especially after a crack in their relationship caused by an extremely traumatic event for both of them. 

TW: HUMAN TRAFFICKING  Bea was born sometime after the events of DMC 1, and her parents are Dante and Lady. They fought a lot for her, as their financial funds and family situation did not allow them to take better care of a child. However, despite the impediments, they managed to conceive a girl.But Bea was born premature at 7 months of pregnancy, because Lady became seriously ill during the gestation period. Also, she was born with a form of arthrogryposis. Once again the two decided to keep the baby, even though everyone around him tried to persuade them to put her up for adoption. Dante, however, who was terribly tired by the experience, swore never to leave her alone and to protect her, because he absolutely could not bear the idea of losing the person he loved most in the world. 

So Bea spent her childhood happily with her parents, who in addition to spending their savings on her surgeries, tried to spend as much time with her as possible. When the two were on a mission, however, Bea stayed with Morrison, Dante's agent, who had volunteered to take care of her in their absence.

After the events of DMC 4, where Beatrice is only 12, a group of human traffickers kidnapped her for her demonic heritage, raped her, and intended to sell her to high rank criminals as a powerful weapon or as… well, sex worker. But luckily, her parents rescued before they could send her to any other possible country. Bea and Dante’s relationship went downhill from that day, with her avoiding him at all costs, and him trying to comfort her and show her he'd never hurt her in any way.  

Near DMC 5 they manage to get back to a more normal relationship, having talks and stuff, but Bea is still pretty avoidant of Dante, pushing him away basically every time he wants to have some time with her, like good ol' times.

During the events of DMC 5, Bea is 16 years old, and participates in the activity of the Devil May Cry without however taking part in the missions. One day a handsome boy named V came to her father's office and asked her if she would like to join the mission with them. Despite Dante's refusal, Bea felt touched by that request: both because of the boy's good looks and because he too had a disability and could understand it, convinced she’s able and old enough to fight on her own, and unbeknownst to them, she followed them on a mission that encompasses the events of the game itself. 

After one month, Beatrice realizes her parents have gone missing or have probably lost their fight with Urizen, and decides to head to the Qlipoth to look for them. Dante finds her trying to engage a fight with Urizen, but knowing she's too weak to face him, he stops her before it's too late and defeats Urizen. After the fight, the two reach a breaking point: her trying to make him understand she’s perfectly able to fight, Dante trying to reason with her, sending Bea home back at the van. Then, as we know, Dante had to go to Hell with Vergil, leaving his pregnant wife and daughter alone. Beatrice was destroyed. She thought she just lost her dad, her only and last memory of him being a fight on top of a demonic tree. She realized how wrong she was, never listening to anyone, always doing things on her own, and decided to try and become less stubborn, in hope her father could come back.

- Mary

Name: Mary Madeleine 

Gender: Female

Age: 1 one year old

Species: one-quarter demon, Dante and Lady’s second daughter

Personality: an apparently angelic, sweet and affectionate child, who is actually a real devil. She likes to prank the people around her, causing confusion and chaos when she gets the chance. However, she cares a great deal about her family, especially her sister Bea, whom she always tries to impress in some way. Plus, Bea is the only one Mary doesn't play tricks on.

Little Mary was conceived shortly before the events of Devil May Cry 5, before her parents were given the assignment to fight Urizen. At the time Lady had no idea that she was pregnant, and she attended the mission anyway.

However, the woman was defeated and used by Urizen as a "battery" for the demon Artemis. Their bodies entered into symbiosis, causing the demon to continue the pregnancy rather than the woman, and this transmitted to the child a good percentage of demonic genes, which caused the appearance of small wings on her back. Once Lady was saved, however, the pregnancy continued without any problems, and Mary came into the world. 

- Adina [MY VERSION OF NERO’S MOTHER]

Name: Adina

Gender: Female

Age: [when she met Vergil] 16, [DMC 5] 41

Species: Human 

Personality: Those who knew her said that she was a sunny girl, capable of making friends with everyone and with a good heart, and other nuns described her as loyal to her duty, obedient, hardworking and dedicated.Of course, it wasn't all true. Adina, in fact, very often poured her frustration on the younger nuns and novices, with not very polite ways, glaring and evil words spoken behind their back. But no one had the courage to argue or reproach the girl's behavior, for fear of the consequences she could unleash on them. She was not and is not a bad person. Simply, years and years of obligations, forces, people who decided for her without ever making her speak had created a heap of great frustration and annoyance in her, which she could not have vented in any other way.Her behavior, however, changed since she met Vergil. She became a more sunny, genuine, less severe and authoritarian woman.Nowadays, she has maintained that kind of behavior, while still having very acidic traits of her personality, becoming a calm and rational woman, with angular facets with those she doesn’t like.

Adina and Vergil meet in a very cliche way to be fair.Adina was the last of many children, and her father, wanting to give all of his properties to his first son, decided to make his other sons and daughters become members of the church, so he didn’t need to give them money, and they wouldn’t most importantly give him more heirs with which he would have to divide his possessions. 

Furthermore, Adina was apparently confined to a wheelchair, convinced by her parents that her illness had no cure, and for this reason it was extremely easy to persuade her to become a member of the clergy. However, the girl had a particular passion, that for literature, and she dreamed of being able to open her personal library, hoping that her father could turn a blind eye and let her fulfill his dream. But her father, using the excuse of her precarious health situation, forced her to become a nun in the Order. Her father promised her a very high rank in the church and lots of power and luxuries, so she agreed, not because she actually wanted all that, but because she thought it was the best way to be useful to her parents. However, Adina was really interested in what was the life of the century experienced by all the other girls her age, parties, fancy clothing, romance, things she only read in books and she would never experience. 

Once she became a nun, she was immediately treated as a real celebrity despite being only 17, becoming the most influential religious figure for her kindness. But as I said earlier, her character had dark sides, and so she was able to gain respect.The monastic life was unsuitable for the girl, she too realized it, but she endured such torture to make her father proud and to give honor to the family. To make her life more bearable, she asked to be entrusted with both the teaching to the future nuns and the management of the library. 

And right here she met Vergil, her downfall, but also her salvation.

Let's be real, Vergil treated her kindly because of pity for her being on a wheelchair at first, such a weak human. But then he noticed how she was able to make herself be strictly respected by others despite her situation, and became interested in her. The two started to get to know each other and found out they shared a lot in common, spending time at the library or in an open field near a beach outside of Fortuna, where no one could see them.He even taught her how to walk and dance, showing her and making her understand her family convinced her she couldn't walk just to force her own destiny. She couldn't walk in front of others though anyway, and started to feel truly free only when she was with Vergil. 

One day, the Church caught fire, and Adina was trapped inside as no one in panic had remembered to help her. Or maybe they wanted her to die there, who knows ...A young Vergil was drawn into the terrified crowd around the burning church, and after realizing what was going on and that Adina was standing there, his mind brought back the trauma of his mother's death. He immediately decided to use his demonic form and save her as quickly as possible, without anyone seeing him. When she finally realized what happened, she didn’t look scared. Now they didn’t have any more secrets. 

They got together after a while and really planned to escape from that place, having a family together, living their life in peace as they both needed to heal their past wounds. The devil actually started to search for a good place to live in Redgrave, but it was taking a lot of time to find the place, the money, the documents, and a safe way to escape. 

But it was all ruined by a single mistake, a lack of attention during a secret nocturnal encounter. The woman became pregnant, and soon everyone noticed it at the convent. 

Adina was threatened to be killed along with the child, but it was decided to lock her up forever, and raise the abomination she generated as the son of a prostitute in an orphanage. Adina decided to keep silent about the father's identity, and begged Vergil to escape without her.We all know how it went. Vergil was caught up in extreme anger and hate towards himself.

 Once again, he couldn't protect who he loved. And that's how the whole plot happened.She managed to escape, changed her identity, and started a new life. but couldn't find Vergil anywhere. Maybe he died. Adina decided to just stop thinking about it, as guilt and remorse ate her soul, and just settled in Redgrave and opened a library, like the two planned to do, and remained loyal to him despite knowing he was never coming back, as she slowly forgot, piece by piece, the person she loved.

-------------------- DONE- Feel free to leave questions about them in my askbox, I’m even open for roleplay!

#ocs #oc #oc character #introducing my ocs #my oc story #my oc shit #genshinoc #genshin impact #devil may cry #devil may cry oc #dante x lady #zhongli x ei #childe x lumine

[theladybarnes]

▸▸ CAPTAINS ( CHAPTER NINE )

“I can't believe you did it. I was teasing. I loved you. Course, I was coming up here to kill ya..”

▸ summary: it’s time for a quick confession, before blue’s time is up ▸ pairings: peter x reader, bucky x reader ▸ word count: 4,911 ▸ warnings: angst, plans of violence, thoughts from a killer, and mentions of hanging body ▸ series masterlist

DISCLAIMER (PLEASE READ): When I first started this series, I knew that certain themes would be a bit much to write on. But considering that most people who are reading or have heard of it, know somewhat some things that happen in the film. That being said, due to the recent events in the world, with violence in schools, I want to warn any reader that this has certain parts in the story that might make anyone that has trauma or is generally uncomfortable with the topic; upset. So, please understand that while violence in a school is talked about, none of the actions said by Peter happen and the ending follows up with someone blowing themselves up. Just wanted to clarify for people who might stumble upon this. 

Peter Parker had never felt like a normal boy. From his very first memory, he knew he was special. Different from all the kids in the neighborhood. Hell, even different from anyone in his family.  For the first four years of his life, he felt nothing but true happiness. That is until the tragic death of his parents. 

 Tony had never given Peter the full story, finding it too heartbreaking to give away too much details. The only thing he’d ever mention was that his parents had been planning to move away from New York, which would have torn Tony’s heart up since Peter had such a great mind. He offered the parents many times to start mentoring, insisting that Peter’s genius could go beyond if he was to work with Tony once school started the next year. But they politely declined, something that shocked Tony to this day.

 It was just an average summer day when they died tragically in the accident. Tony blamed himself of course, having given them one of his newest sports car for the thrill of a weekend getaway. Police had tried to figure out how a car in such good condition could have such a faulty brake line. Tony mentioned to them how it was a saving grace that Peter had been left in the care of Tony and then girlfriend Virginia Potts. 

 And while the world mourned the death of his parents, they couldn’t help but ask what would happen to the boy. His Aunt May had no means to help watch him, something Tony had been adamant about. Not to mention that a suspicious file case had been put on her when word got out of her poor income. To everyone’s surprise, Tony stepped forward, promising to give Peter the love and support that he deserved. Not to mention that with his mini empire, money would never be a problem for him.

 So after a year of battling in court and a grueling adoption process, the young Parker boy became the only child of one Anthony Stark.

 Though Peter, throughout this tragedy, had become confused and sad, he couldn’t help but admire the man who he saw as a father figure. Loving all the ways that Tony encouraged him to take anything he wanted. And that is what Peter did. He took it all. If he wanted to win the science fair, he’d win. If he wanted to join in the junior engineers competition, he’d dominate. All the world was his for the taking.

 Tony managed to give Peter the love that he promised. Even if at times Peter did not necessarily deserve it. 

 On one occasion, it was during his middle school dance that Peter got into his first fight. A rising athlete had been supposedly getting too handsy with a girl that made the boy upset, causing Peter to attack him. To the staff around the school, it shocked them all to see such a small boy have a damaging hit. 

 The younger schoolmate ended up needing multiple stitches, and the school with it’s zero violence policy, requested that Peter transfer. With a hefty donation, the papers managed to avoid hearing about the incident. 

 So it was on to the next school, until Peter was caught experimenting on classroom pets. Then at the next school, Peter was caught stealing answer keys. Then the next school until Tony had enough with the public eye and hired a private tutor. When asked about Peter’s behavior, Tony simply justified that Peter was too gifted and saw things differently from the world. 

 Peter loved that Tony accepted him for his righteous intentions. It wasn’t Peter’s fault at all that he managed to upset people, they just couldn’t see the bigger picture. All his fights, experiments, and even cheating were for greater good. He was on the road to his other success when he was hit with bad news for the first time in years. 

 Tony, who wanted to take a step back from the limelight, had been secretly working on starting back up his Father’s first business. A law firm that originated in Westerburg, Ohio. The most boring town that Peter had ever heard of. At first, Tony didn’t want to leave New York, wanting to possibly run things there via phone calls and such. But after a few complications, it would seem that he’d need to be there in person. So, after thinking it over, Tony decided that the two alone would be moving. Leaving behind a shocked Pepper (who Tony was quick to dismiss), the sky rise that Peter loved, and the concrete jungle that he wished to thrive in. 

 The move was hard on Peter. Making him angry and cold towards Tony. But eventually, after the promise of leaving after high school, and getting him a place back in New York after it all, Peter lightened up a bit. That is, until Tony bumped into an old high school flame; Sarah Rogers.

 The pale timid blonde had been recently widowed, leaving her and her son Steve (who was around Peter’s age) alone in the big house on top of the hill. She used the sad excuse of her husband dying to woo Tony. Giving the man another lost cause that he thought he could fix. And with Steve in the picture, he couldn’t help but get excited at the idea of having another son in his life that could fill the roles that Peter could not. 

 “He’s got the brawn, you got the brain, and Sarah here is the beauty. I’ll have the complete package.” It only took four months after that for Tony to propose. Sealing the deal with a family photo outside of the large house. Even to this day Peter could not stand the family photo, hating absolutely everything about it. His new ‘brother’ as Tony referred to had felt the same sentiment. Making it clear the day Peter moved.

 The young boy of just twelve years old had been bringing in a large box into his room when he felt a light trip on his feet. Causing the box to topple over and spill the contents onto the floor. “Look at this boys, Mom shacked up with a millionaire and all I got was a nerd brother.” Scoffed the young blonde boy, kicking at one of Peter’s books.

 The young boys behind him snickered a bit as they watched the scene. Peter was absolutely fuming inside, getting up slowly from the ground as he faced the blonde. “I’m surprised you can tell what a book is, seeing as you seem like someone who’s never read one.” 

 “Oooh, watch out. The dog’s got a bite.” Steve had chuckled, kicking a few books in his way as he stepped closer to Peter. “Wonder what else the little pup can do.” The anger had bubbled up inside of Peter, causing him to still step up to the blonde despite their size difference. 

 “I’ve fought worse than you, Stevie. But I’m down to find out if you’re as crippling as the condition your father had.” 

 The three boys stared shocked at what the boy had said, making Peter smirk triumphantly. When Steve looked like he was about to get violent, the brunette with ocean blue eyes stepped up to pull him back. Muttering to leave it alone and go play some games in his room. The blonde shrugged off his friend, pointing a finger at Peter before his demeanor changed and he shot off a friendly smile. “It’s gonna be fun living with you, little bro.” He smirked, planning on getting his own revenge later.

 And for the next five years, that’s how it went. Back and forth between the two. Occasionally butting heads or simply throwing insults back and forth. The worst part was in the public eye, Steve would always play up that they were close, punching Peter’s arm playfully or teasing his hair. Making Peter look bad if he ever reacted differently. For the most part, Peter dreaded having to be around Steve so much.

 Even worse, his school did not do anything in excelling his studies. Mostly running on backpacking off their athletes rather than helping progress anyone with an actual IQ. If it weren’t for Peter having Tony fund his extracurriculars, he was sure he’d last a minute more in the damn prison. Eventually, things became a little easier when he met people like Ned or joined the school paper. The short man was very much keen on making Peter happy, needing to please the one person who treated him like a person. At least at first he did. But like any friendship, all things started to change when a girl came into the picture. It was mid sophomore year when Michelle Jones had moved to town. The lovely girl had a tenacious attitude that Peter thrived on, and happened to have great taste in music. 

 It was obvious that she was perfect for Peter. No one else in the school deserved her at all. Especially after he realized how sweet she was on him. With everyone else she had a curt and sarcastic response, with Peter she would give insightful and even sometimes humorous responses. It didn’t take long for the two of them to begin dating. But like everyone else at this school, it didn’t take long for Michelle Jones (or MJ as her friends called her) to start slipping up. At first it was the fact that she didn’t want to join in any of the clubs Peter was in. Claiming she had more fun in stuff like Art or creative writing, two things Peter knew were fine, but not the most substantial outside of school. The second was when her remarks towards the school became less factual and more opinionated. 

 Peter could ignore it most days, but eventually it got to him. The way she turned on her views of people at the school. MJ felt the same way towards him, asking him constantly why he hated so many people he didn’t even really know. It was on a particular rainy day that the two were fighting in his backyard. The two had been attempting to have a romantic picnic when the rain came in. So as the two were hiding under the tree for cover, they got to talking about the upcoming Junior prom. Thinking of ideas on how they could make it fun. That’s when MJ mentioned him.

  ONE YEAR AGO

 Peter had his arm around her, leaning in to press a kiss to her head when she chuckled to herself. “What’s so funny?” He hummed. The young girl pushed a curl behind her ear, staring up at Peter before she shook her head. “It was just a dumb thing I remembered.”

 “Come on, I’m sure it’s not if it’s got you chuckling.”

 Smiling a bit, she shrugged her shoulders before speaking. “Your brother just said something about cross dressing for the prom. We’d be making a state as well as cracking everyone up.” Peter couldn’t help but stiffen beside her. Not knowing which he should try to wrap his head around. 

 “You speak to Steve?”

 “..Yeah, we’re in the same class. He sits right behind me.”

 Scoffing, Peter removed her from his side. Choosing to lean against the tree with his arms crossed. “How could you willingly speak to him? You know how stupid I think he is.” 

 “Yeah, he’s kind of an idiot, trust me I know. I’ve had to pass his tests back. But it was a funny joke, Peter.” She tried to reach out his arm when he flinched further back. “Peter, it’s just casual talk in class. Don’t you ever talk to people in your classrooms when it’s boring?”

 “No, because I’d really rather stick a pencil in my eye than endure any kind of conversation with those people. Especially if said people happen to be Steve Rogers.”

 She scoffed for a second, stiffening up in her own position. “You know, he’s not as bad as you make him out to be. Sure, he’s not the best person or the brightest, but he’s just looking to have a good time in school. Like everyone else.”

 “In case you haven’t noticed, MJ. I’m not like everyone else here.”

 “Oh? You’re not? You’re better?”

 Peter faced her again, glaring down into her brown eyes. “Yes, and I used to think you were too.” The girl was obviously fed up with being told the ‘truth’, got up from the tree and stormed off towards the house. The slight slope up had given Peter enough time to rush after her and stop her from entering inside. 

 “What are you going to do now, huh? Go talk with Steve? I bet if you fuck with him enough he’ll be willing to take you.”

 MJ stared shocked at Peter. Stopping her movements to allow the rain to begin to soak her hair, weighing the curls down against her face. “Peter, what is your problem? I told you about one interaction and you’re acting like I’m into him or something!”

 “Shut up! You just told me you talked with him before, who’s to say you guys don’t talk more than that!” 

 “Why does that matter? I’m not into him, I’m into you!” She shook her head, turning back around towards the house. “This is stupid, I’m not doing this with you.” Peter reached out for her arm, gripping onto it tightly as he pulled her into his chest. “Hey, you’re hurting me!” MJ cried out.

 “You’re hurting me! How could you be so casual about talking with someone I’ve told you many times has been my enemy!”

 “This isn’t fiction, Peter. He’s not some big bad villain, he’s just someone you don’t get along with. Doesn’t mean that everyone else shouldn’t.” Her hands slapped at his wrist, trying to get him to let her go. “Peter, please..”

 “You don’t talk to him again after this..got it?” He said, gripping only tighter. She managed to snake her fingers between his and release her from his vice grip. Her eyes looked down in shock as she noticed how red her wrist had become. Peter seemed to mirror her face before he rubbed a hand at his neck. “MJ..I’m sorry, I just got heated..shit.” He hissed looking closer, lifting his hand to caress it.

 The girl didn’t hesitate, reaching her hand back and slapping him across the face. “You don’t get to touch me!” She seethed, moving to hold her arm against her chest. “I cannot believe you!” She added, stepping away from Peter. 

 “Please, MJ. Try to understand me, he’s a shit person and I just don’t want you talking to him anymore. You have to promise me!” Peter turned more desperate the more he saw her step back from him, hating to see her almost afraid of him. Why would she be afraid of someone who wanted to look out for her?

 “No! I’m done with you and your controlling attitude, Peter. This isn’t healthy!”

 “Trouble in paradise?” The deep voice of none other than Steve Rogers seemed to chime in perfectly. Causing the two kids to step back from each other. Glancing up, they caught sight of the blonde looking down at the two from his window with a smug smirk on his face. “Michelle, lovely as ever.” He chirped, bringing a white mug to his lips.

 “Steve.” Peter croaked out. Trying to control the real anger that was building up inside.

 The blonde winked over at the brunette, tipping his head lightly. “Brother~. I sense that despite the cold weather out, you two are getting a little heated up. Should I be worried?”

 MJ shook her head, not liking the tone of the changing conversation. “No, you don’t. Because I’m out of here!” Using Steve’s presence as a distraction, the girl turned back around and made her exit out of the house. Leaving Peter upset, but stunned in place. 

 “What a bummer, I liked having her around.” Steve chuckled. “Way to keep a tight leash, Petey. She even got a hit back on you.” He smirked, titling his head.

 “She left because of you! All you do is bother the shit out of me and now MJ is gone because of that.”

 Steve let out a deep laugh, shaking his head at the notion. “I’m sure it’s because of me and not because she actually realized what a little psycho shit you are. Must be the mean jock, huh?”

 Peter pointed up at the man, nostrils flared as he bit back a yell. “You ruin everything! You talked with her just to annoy me! It’s not like you’d give her any time of day if she was anyone else.”

 “Maybe,” volleyed Steve, giving it a thought. “But she’s not anyone else. She is- oops I mean was my brother’s girlfriend.”

 “I am not your brother!” Yelled Peter, not caring if he was still in the rain. He wanted to hold his ground, especially since it was Steve of all people looking down at him. “I’m gonna get her back, and I’m gonna make her see what a piece shit you are. She’s smarter than the others, she’ll notice your bullshit eventually.”

 Again his step brother could only just laugh down at him. “You keep telling yourself that, Champ. Maybe one of these days someone will stupidly listen to you.” Without letting the other boy get a reply, Steve stuck his head back in and slammed the window shut. Leaving Peter alone finally as he took in everything that happened.

  It didn’t take long for the remaining parts of Peter’s relationship with MJ to crumble. They never went to the prom and after thinking it over, MJ decided that she wanted to go visit her Mom more. It was a little after summer that she moved away to live with her Mom. Telling him she’d rather live with her Mom nagging her all the time than to stay in Westerburg with her father. 

 Peter was crushed, feeling like if he didn’t have to deal with Steve that she’d never have seen that angry side of him. It’s always Steve’s fault. He made him like this. He brought this bad luck into his life. He made him use his hands in anger rather than love. The only solace in all this was that she’d be out of the picture and he could solely work on school and prepare to leave the town come graduation. 

 It was going to be shit, considering the people and who he lived with. But he could do it. That is..until you came along.

 You with your snark attitude, avoiding the other students as you made your way into the cafeteria. You were gorgeous, but the way you held yourself was remarkable. He had to talk to you, he didn’t care if it was for a dumb newspaper questionare, he had to get a word with you.

 And boy was that worth it, even if the dumb conversation was interrupted by oafs, you showed him just how ballsy you were. Pretending to stab two students, making everyone around you know just who you are. It was beautiful. Of course, he wouldn’t be the only one to notice your appeal. The moronic captains of the school took notice, both being stunned by your actions. At first, it was only Barnes who made any effort, even trying to walk you home. Beating Peter to the punch. But when Steve made an effort to invite you to the party, he knew that he couldn’t let them have you. Unfortunately, after all he’s done for you, it would turn out that no one was going to be able to have you. 

 So here he was now, quietly clinging up the side of your house. Hoping to either change your mind or get you out of the way. Something that troubled Peter deeply. He never wanted the two of you to end. You saw him! You saw him as better than Steve. You saw him as your white knight. Sure, he had to toughen you up a bit with some of the things he did, but he knew you better. He knew what you were capable of. But if you were going to do something like be a risk to his future, the same future he worked so hard on, well, you’d be taken care of. 

 He inched up to your window, wincing a bit when the old wood creaked as he opened it before he carefully climbed inside. He knew that you were aware of his arrival. He made sure you’d known it since his personal entry for you. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of you and Barnes. Something he’d definitely get an answer to right now.

 “Little blue bird.” He cooed, coming towards your bed. “I just wanna-“

 The sight of your body hanging from the ceiling fan brought him down to his knees. “No,” he croaked, feeling his heart begin to panic. “Not you.” He whispered. Crawling over towards you, he reached out to let his hand poke at your shin, wincing when he noticed just how stiff your body had become. “How could you do this?”

 You continued to stay still and he was thankful that your hair covered most of your face. All he could really see was the outline of your nose and lips. He began to feel his heart break, thinking that not only were you gone, but you had been taken by your hand and not his merciful one. By hanging yourself, you cause yourself pain on the way out. All he planned was to slit your wits and make it quick.

 “Oh God, Blue. I loved you so much. You were perfect for me. I made it so. I worked so hard to get you to be mine.” He couldn’t help but pour his heart out to you, if he couldn’t tell it to you alive, he wanted to let you hear it now. “Do you know how much it took to pay off Brock and Jock to get Steve drunk? They didn’t believe me at first, not understanding why until I told them it would humiliate you and Steve. Not that I wanted that for you, baby. But I had to show you just how horrible Steve was.”

 He sighed a bit, hating how scared you looked that night. “And Barnes, well he really did that himself, huh? Didn’t need me to tell him how to react and with him being buzzed and egged on by those two idiots, it was really only natural for him to take it out on you.”

 “But honestly, Blue. You still forgave him? You still wanted him? Even after showing you how awful he was? I didn’t have to worry though, because we took care of Steve. We got rid of one of my biggest enemies and it felt so good.” He looked over at you, wishing he could get a reaction. “It was so hard not to show you how I felt at first..making you think I was sad. But you were so smart, my little bird. Even at the funeral I knew you noticed how pleased I was. But you didn’t say a thing.”

 He thought back to the events that followed, smiling to himself over all the work you guys did. “Ned was never this willing to work with me, and I admit, having to beat up my own friend felt weird at first, but once it got him to comply and get you into thinking it was Brock and John that set up that post, well..”

 The morning light seemed to be creeping up in the window, making Peter sad to end this last interaction together. Before your father would evidently come in and find you. Where you’d be taken to the morgue and eventually put into the ground. “I know I scared you a bit in the end, but I really wanted you in on this..my one last mission before the year ended.”

 He pulled the paper out of his pocket, unfolding the crinkled piece until it looked presentable. “It took me a couple of weeks to do this honestly, I wanted to surprise you with it tonight, maybe convince you of the final work we could do together. But seeing as you took matters in your own hands, I guess I’ll have to do this alone. But don’t worry, your name is still on the list. And so is everyone else’s.”

 Clearing his throat, he read off the paper to you. "We students of Westerburg High will die. Today. Our burning bodies will be an example of how unworthy we all became to be. Only under flames can we all become one body.”

 “It’s a bit much but I figure it’d send off a message of unity or some shit that newspapers will eat up.” He stuffed the note back in his jacket, shaking his head. “You were supposed to watch it all happen with me. See again how I’m setting you on such a right path. But you decided to leave, and without me.” He fell dejectedly onto your computer chair, turning to look at all the cute crap that covered your desk until he noticed something peculiar. 

 Leaning against a picture frame was a small camera, something that you normally would not play around with. Carefully, he reached out for it and opened up the view finder to watch back what you recorded. 

 It was of you, sitting at your desk in the outfit right now. Presumably from just before you decided to hang yourself. “Hey, Peter.” You sniffled, looking at the camera sadly. Oh how he hated to see you cry. “I’m guessing if you’re watching this then I finally had the guts to go through with things..” your eyes cast down to your lap and Peter wished he could reach out to you. “I know you’re upset with me. Especially after seeing Bucky and I next door.”

 You nodded your head, seeming to go over your thoughts. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry…sorry that I couldn’t be more honest with you.” He glanced over at your figure, wishing he could hear this in person. “I love Bucky. But you were my friend..you wanted to help me, right?” Smiling a bit you look up back to the camera. “But your method of helping is something that I can’t live with anymore..and I won’t be around for you to set another example to the world out of me.”

 Peter shook his head. “It wasn’t going to be like that.” He muttered, hating that you thought so low of him.

 “I’m doing you a favor by taking myself out of the picture, hopefully giving you the chance to break off from this life you’re pushing yourself into Peter. Because, I’m sure deep down you don’t want to do this to people..right?”

 She was so naive to believe that what he was doing was wrong. Peter knew that she was scared because of how fast these deaths were happening, but he really did hope she would see the light of it eventually. 

 “All I ask is that you just..leave him alone..please.”

 Scowling, he watched as you glanced over your shoulder towards the window. Obviously talking about Barnes again. If anything, he’d make sure that Barnes had front row seats to the bombs he planted downstairs in the boiler room.

 “Let me be the end of your madness please. I just want all of you to be able to move on and be happy. Let my death be the last thing that’s plaguing this town.” You begged. Getting up, you reached for the camera to look into it one last time. Peter again could not help but miss how much warmth your eyes had. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Pete. But hopefully doing this will help you want to help yourself.”

 The camera cut off after that. Ending the tape. A sick feeling tugged into Peter’s stomach. One he’s never quite felt before, and he could only assume it’s because he’s lost you. Taking the tape out, he stuffed the piece into his pocket and set everything back to normal at your desk. Moving to stand in front of you now. He wished he could kiss you once more and remind you of how much he wanted you by his side. Even despite the betrayal of your kiss, he’d still take you back. You were always supposed to come back to him. 

 “I know you think what I’m doing is madness, and harmful. But the school needs to be rid of its vermin. And I need to be the one to take care of it. I’m the only one smart enough to think this way. He moved to tug lightly at the edge of your jacket, letting his fingers rub against the blue fabric before he stepped back. “I’m going to send them all to you, baby. You won’t be alone soon enough.” 

 Without another word, he gathered up his belongings and made his way towards the window, casting one last longing look at your figure before he carefully climbed out the window and onto the ladder. Every step down was an encouraging reminder of what he had to do.

 KILL. THEM. ALL. KILL. THEM. ALL.

A/N: Well every evil has its origin, in this case, it started with a crazy man with a crazy beard. TAGGED REQUESTS: @edgycatx​

#peter parker x reader #peter x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker scenario #marvel au #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel scenario #c

[songsofelisa]

Unexplainable Episode 070 Rhys Ward → true crime

Warning: This episode contains discussions and descriptions of violence that some listeners may find disturbing in addition to mentions of suicide. However, in the quest to provide a full and comprehensive overview, this content is included so as to provide all the information in the hopes of being able to bring some answers to those affected by this tragedy. Listener discretion is advised.

Rhys Ward was, according to all who knew him, a bright light. He was a young human attending university in the hopes of becoming a veterinarian. He was a kind soul known to be described as patient and helpful. Thus, it was a shock to everyone involved when Rhys Ward was discovered dead on June 3, 2016. Even more shocking was the implication that his own brother was at fault.

Welcome to: Unexplainable: A deep dive into the cold case files and the supernatural, in an attempt to deliver conclusions based on cold, hard facts. I’m Elisa Salaliphus and this will be an examination of Rhys Ward and his death with the hopes of providing some insight into what happened that dark and rainy night in June 2016.

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Rhys Ward was born on a cold morning in January of 1995. He was the second of only two children in his family. Not much is known about the human, as he was not a native of the island, though it is clear the family found their way here some time during August of 1998. The family appears to have come over with some pirates, entering through Port Grave, however the reason they ended up here with pirates is also unknown. What we do know is the family settled in Obsidian City and joined the fast paced and dangerous environment the city has become known for.

Rhys spent the majority of his short life in Obsidian City. According to interviews done with his father, he was an extraordinarily happy boy as he grew up. Despite the hardships the family encountered, Rhys found enjoyment in many of the small things that life had to offer. He was positive and upbeat and even more so, he found that he had a sort of nurturing touch when it came to animals of all sorts. Many of those who knew him often spoke about the way he would adopt animals off the street, take in those he could that might have been injured or sick to nurse them back to health before letting them go again, though, it was said the animals consistently hung out around the neighborhood, forever grateful to the man who had shown them an itch of kindness in their rough dwellings.

As he grew older, it was clear that he wasn’t just kind, but was also smart. He excelled in school, even being granted an academic scholarship as he eventually moved onto university to work towards obtaining his degree in biology. Despite Rhys’ successes and clear drive to work towards his goals in life, it was while he was attending university that his young life was suddenly cut short.

It is important, when reviewing this particular incident to understand the timeline leading up to that dark and rainy night of June 3, 2016. Rhys Ward had already been attending Avalon University for three years. During his first two years, friends and professors have always said that Rhys was an excellent student. He had a perfect attendance record, and his grades were always maintained so that he might have graduated Summa Cum laude. This is likely, in part, due to his academic scholarship saying that he could not let his grade point average drop below a certain point. However, Rhys had always been studious and very into his academics. It was then a shock that in the fall semester of 2015, Rhys Ward, the model student, began to experience a sudden drop in his grades. Professors began to receive notices that he would be unable to attend class, sometimes for days. As a result, his grades began to suffer and by the end of 2015, Rhys had been put on academic probation for the severe slump in grades and was in danger of losing the scholarship he had worked so hard to earn.

By his spring 2016 semester, Rhys had promised academic advisors and friends alike that everything was fine, and he simply had suffered minor distraction but that he would work twice as hard to ensure this semester he became caught up enough to get his grades back up to the standard he and others were used to. This promise, despite seeming sincere, would go unfulfilled. Rhys would continue to disappear from classes, days at a time and with no emails, texts, or phone calls to professors. In fact, his disappearances weren’t just from classes, but from life in general. Friends and his roommates at the time claimed he would simply disappear off the face of the earth but would show back up seemingly healthy and fine. Other than his uncharacteristic cavalier attitude towards his academics, Rhys seemed to be normal. Rhys would continue to insist all was well and that he would pass his classes despite the overwhelming feeling that he was set up to drop out by the end of that academic year.

Rhys, instead, disappeared by the end of his semester. He disappeared weeks prior to finals and without ever turning in his last assignments and papers that would have been vital to ensuring his academic success could continue. The next time anyone would see Rhys, he would be dead.

It seemed to have been, that by the time Rhys pulled his final disappearing act, his friends had become accustomed to him suddenly taking off. He lived with roommates and, as a result, his father, and subsequently his brother, had no idea he had disappeared. It was two weeks into his disappearance that his father, Stephen Ward, became aware and as a result attempted to report it to campus authorities. Unfortunately, as is the case with most adults who go missing, by the very nature of being adults, authorities oftentimes refuse or insist they are unable to do anything as it is a right for adults to disappear with no notice and no consequences.

It was not for lack of trying on Stephen’s part. He continued to hound authorities, who refused to take action, and instead began a search on his own. Unfortunately, Stephen would never find his son. It seemed, though, Rhys’ brother, Tristan Ward would.

It was dark and stormy that night of June 3, 2016 when police stumbled on the scene. Tristan Ward, Rhys’ older brother would be found slumped over his body, covered in blood. It would seem that it was a very clear what had happened. However, it would turn out to be far from the case.

It is also important to understand the relationship between Tristan and Rhys. Tristan was five years older than his brother, but according to their father, had always been overprotective over Rhys. Stephen said that he refused to believe his older son had anything to do with Rhys’ death if only because he knows all that Tristan sacrificed in order to ensure Rhys would be able to achieve what Tristan could not.

Tristan was born in March of 1990. Again, not a lot is known about the beginnings of the Ward family, but it seems generally agreed upon that of the two brothers, Tristan was far more reserved and aloof, seemingly far more aggressive and less friendly than his brother. For what it’s worth, though, it seemed his father and brother could not talk up his praises enough. It is clear that the two brothers were close. Given Stephen Ward was constantly working, Tristan took it upon himself to care for his younger brother as the two grew up. According to Stephen it is likely the city hardened Tristan as he shielded Rhys from the harsh realities, allowing Rhys to maintain his softer demeanor. Tristan also decided to forgo higher education, instead bartending for several years at several bars around the city. He would work to earn money which he subsequently gave to his brother and father. His aim was twofold, to allow Rhys to not have to work at all and to allow Stephen to work less than the usual two to three jobs.

It then came as a shock to anyone who knew the brothers that Tristan might have at all been involved with Rhys’ death in any shape, way or form.

Rhys had been shot at point blank range in the back of the head. The police were able to confirm with gunpowder residue found on the entrance wound that it would have been within close range of the gun. Tristan was found draped over his brother’s body. The murder weapon was never found. Subsequently, Tristan was arrested and brought into custody. It was always clear from the get-go that the police figured they had their culprit. From my research, I was unable to find any other suspects that might have been considered or other angles that might have been looked at. Instead, what I did find were numerous inconsistencies. Including the missing murder weapon.

However, let’s say the missing murder weapon had been stashed by the brother prior to the arrival of police. What we then contend with is that when tested, it was found Tristan had an unusually high blood alcohol level at 0.14%, and also had indeterminate levels of ethereum in his system. Already, at that level of BAC, he would be over the limit of being functional, vomiting, and experience loss of coordination. Additionally, the reaction of ethereum along with the alcohol might have additional affects, especially on a human. Based on that alone, it would be hard to imagine Tristan stashing a gun effectively or efficiently. Even if he had left the crime scene to do so, it would have been difficult for him to navigate his way back to it to be found where he was and police have also stated that the body was still warm when they arrived, thus leaving very little time for anyone, especially someone that intoxicated to hide a weapon.

Additionally, there was no gun powder residue found on Tristan’s hands. Even more telling was that there was no bullet. At the formal autopsy conducted by the coroner, an exit wound was found, thus the bullet should have been found at the crime scene, yet there were never any reports that this was found or recovered. Further proving this point, the ballistics of the weapon were never released as they were unable to determine exactly the gun used without the weapon itself or the bullet.

Even with all that physical evidence, Tristan himself has stated he was never responsible, nor does he remember ever making it out there. Of course, many point to him lying and being too drunk to remember, but even then, the lack of memory only serves to show how impaired he was. If someone is unable to remember what they did, it is hard to imagine they would have the mental capacity to commit a crime, hide the gun and the bullet, wipe the residue off your hands, and not have the forethought to not return to the scene of the crime after going through all that.

Yet, Tristan Ward was ultimately arrested and convicted of this crime. Many, though, including Stephen himself, do not believe he is responsible. What the authorities seemed to have failed to take into account was Rhys’ odd behavior and his many disappearances leading up to his death. It was already proven Tristan was never with Rhys during many of his bouts of missing time, as he was often working, having alibis established either through CCTV footage or reliable witnesses who could corroborate his whereabouts.

With Tristan’s conviction already being shaky, what many now believe to be an easy arrest and win for the authorities, we’ll dive into some other theories as to what could have actually happened that night of June 3rd.

First, is that Rhys committed suicide. Many point to his obvious change of behavior in the months leading up to his death. Rhys was disappearing and falling behind in his academics, all of which many have agreed upon where uncharacteristic of him. Despite his assurances to his friends and teachers that he was fine, Rhys never could bounce back from the erratic pattern he had established, and no reason has ever been presented or given to explain what he might have been doing during these missing periods of time. Instead, what many propose is that Rhys had grown depressed. He stopped connecting with friends, stopped going to class and ultimately stopped enjoying what he loved. Even with depression, people can often appear normal and will reassure those close to them they are fine. It is not uncommon for friends and family to be shocked by a death, and even more so, a death by suicide because it is impossible to imagine it happening when there are no signs. This theory might fit nicely, if it were not only for the missing murder weapon. Furthermore, there was never gun powder residue found on his hands. Although, it is easy to imagine someone might have walked by and taken the gun, once again, his body was still warm. Most damning of all, was that Rhys was shot point blank in the back of his head. Typically, this would not be a comfortable or natural method for suicide by gunshot. It wouldn’t make sense, nor would the missing gun. Although the rain of the day might have wiped away some physical evidence, it would not have been enough to completely erase it.

The second theory is that the police got this right. Although we’ve already gone over this in-depth, there is still a significant portion that believe Tristan is ultimately responsible for his brother’s death. Most will point to the fact that additional parties were likely involved, either aiding in Tristan’s ability to move around despite his inebriation and also taking the gun to hide. Many believe it might have been a gang ritual of sorts, as it is not uncommon for new members to participate in initiations of sorts. Some believe the gun was taken as to avoid the weapon being connected back to a specific gang or member of a gang. This theory also means Tristan would not have been solely responsible for his brother’s death, however this theory still does not account for Rhys’ odd behavior and disappearances.

The third theory is that Rhys got caught up in some broader crime organization or gang and ultimately became a victim once he decided he no longer wanted to be part of the gang or otherwise could not perform his duties in a way that was satisfactory to those who had recruited him. It is in the opinion of this sleuth, that this is the most likely theory as it accounts for almost every aspect of his mysterious death. It even goes so far as to account for the quote professional nature unquote of the shooting. Many believe that the style is characteristic of a professional hit, possibly a murder that was taken out to silence Rhys after deciding he knew too much to simply let him go. This would also account for his change in behavior and his brief disappearances pointing to being asked to perform tasks that might have required him to be gone for days, even weeks, at a time and miss classes leaving him unable to study. Add that with the missing gun, the missing bullet, it is a theory that fits most neatly into this enigmatic murder. It would also mean, Tristan would turn out to be nothing more than an innocent bystander who likely wandered onto the crime scene at the wrong time. More sinisterly, as has been proposed by those online, he may have been set up. It would not be odd to think those involved in the murder of Rhys Ward ended up spiking what he was drinking with ethereum to cause the effects of the alcohol to go haywire and thus able to guide him, or even take him, to the crime scene, dropping him off and leaving him there to act as scapegoat.

Unfortunately, the fact of the matter is, despite these inconsistencies, despite the lack of investigation and despite all the evidence, Tristan Ward was ultimately convicted. Due to mitigating factors including the fact that Tristan was extremely intoxicated and that it was likely an accidental homicide, according to the defense, he received a light sentence and has already been released as of November 2021, in part, due to good behavior. As a result, though, the case of Rhys Ward was officially closed and as far as law enforcement is concerned, there is nothing further to the case.

Yet, online sleuths can’t help but know that this is likely not the entire answer nor the end of this puzzle. However, until a confession comes to light or new evidence presents itself to compel investigators to reopen the case, we will likely never know what truly happened. But it would do us well to remember Rhys as he was, a bright young man with a promising future, a man who simply wanted to help all creatures from all walks of life and to remember him, not for his brutal, unexplainable end, but rather the bright spots of light he contributed to the lives of those he surrounded himself with.

#unexplainable podcast* #suicide tw #blood tw #i wrote this and it was over 2000 words #and in the process of trying to shorten it #i accidentally delted it all #so then i rewrote it and now it's closer to 3000 words #i'm so sorry