#MY SISTER WANTED HIM CREMATED???????? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ixynaa · 6 months

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SEEING RED PART III

Ghost x f! Reader (Soap’s Sister)

MW3 Spoilers!

Warnings: mentions of violence, language, death, mental health illnesses.

The world around Y/N seemed to move slow, like time had been stuck in the slowest frame possible. When she exited her car and stood outside of the local hospital, dreading to move an inch. She could barely get herself to go inside.

But somehow, she did. And as she did, she couldn’t find herself able to look around or take in her surroundings like she would on a normal day basis.

Taking a hesitant step, Y/N hugged herself as she entered the hospital. She walked slowly, following the signs and directions that would lead her to the morgue on the opposite end of the hospital. She truly did not want to have to do this, but she had to, in order for them to move forward with Johnny’s cremation.

She would have to confirm that it was her brother laying dead in the morgue with a twisted arm and a bullet hole in the side of his head; despite watching the entire scene unfold right before her.

Her stomach churned as she followed the signs through the hospital. She wasn’t sure if it was the constant turns of left and right that was making her feel dizzy and nauseated, or if it was because of where she was headed, or both.

When she reached the first floor, her heart was beginning to pound inside of her chest to the point she was afraid it was going to explode out of her chest. Her palms were sweaty and her body trembled. It was cold there, and it only got worse the closer she got to the morgue.

When she turned the corner, she noticed a security guard standing outside of the double doors. She looked up at the sign and took in a sharp breath.

Morgue.

He looked to Y/N and stepped forward.

“I’m here regarding John MacTavish.”

He nodded. “Doctor Halpin is inside, waiting for you.”

As he badged her in, the doors opened and she stepped inside. A young woman stood, dressed in surgical scrubs and a cap.

“You must be Y/N MacTavish, John’s sister?”

She nodded as she shook her hand.

“My name is Doctor Elaina Halpin. I’ve been taking care of your brother for the past few days. I want to start off by offering my condolences. I know this is a very hard time for you, but I want you to know that I’m here if you need anything whatsoever.”

Tears threatened to spill from Y/N’s eyes, and she cleared her throat as she hugged herself. “Um. . . W—Where is he?”

Doctor Halpin offered a small smile. “He’s just over here.”

She followed her towards a curtain that had been blocking off part of the room. Y/N felt bile rise in her throat as she picked at her lip.

“I need just enough time for you to confirm that it’s him, and I’ll give you all the time you need.”

As she drew back the curtain, Y/N noticed a body atop of the table, covered by a blanket. As she stepped forward and stood beside the body, she reached out with shaky hands to carefully grasp the blanket.

Tugging it down slowly, she exposed his face, and she immediately choked for a breath. Doctor Halpin waited.

“It’s him.” She said quietly. Her voice was a raspy breath, and she sniffled. “It’s Johnny.”

She nodded. “Take your time.”

As she left, Y/N couldn’t break her gaze away from his face. Even as she reached out and placed her hands to each side of his face and leaned in towards her brother.

“Goddammit, Johnny.” She cried, pressing her forehead to his own. “Oh, Johnny.”

Her tears blurred her vision, but she could still make out the man’s jawline with her eyes as her fingers slowly traced his jaw and chin. His rough stubble was no longer there, but his marble soft skin in place. His full lips a tint of purple and blue, fixed into what almost looked like a dull smile.

Sniffling, Y/N stroked his face as she closed her eyes.

As a hand closed over the woman’s shoulder, she opened her eyes and turned slowly. John and Gaz stood there, wearing melancholy expressions as they watched Y/N.

Y/N turned and wrapped her arms around the captain’s neck as he closed his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her into an embrace. Fighting back the urge to break down right there, she fisted the man’s jacket as she choked on a breath.

“‘S all right, soldier.” He whispered. “We’re here.”

Gaz stepped forward and placed his hand on the woman’s back. “Always.”

As she pulled away from John and turned to Gaz, John pulled off his hat and neared Johnny. The man stared down at him as he pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

Gaz hugged Y/N tightly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Thank you.” She whispered into his ear.

As she pulled away, John stood upright and cleared his throat.

“There’s one more who wanted to come In before you leave, but only three of us are allowed in. We’ll head outside so he can come in. We’ll be waiting for you both.”

John grabbed her head and pressed a kiss to the woman’s head before following Gaz towards the doors. Y/N moved back to Johnny’s side, reaching for his hand. His hand was so cold and his fingers were so stiff, but she still managed to mold her own with his.

She closed her eyes as they began to burn.

“I remember on your first day, Johnny wouldn’t shut the hell up about the newest addition to our team: “The Baby MacTavish”.

It came from behind her, causing her to smile as she recalled the memory as Simon spoke.

“He always said how you’d never hurt a fly, unless it hurt you first.”

She could feel him standing nearby now.

“He admired you, Y/N. He was proud to call you his baby sister.”

Y/N choked on a sob. “What do I do? How can I live without him? My brother? My poor brother. . . My only family.”

She wanted to give in to the pain. She wanted to scream and cry and beg Johnny to come back as she held him to her chest until he’d open his eyes. But she knew that it wasn’t going to happen.

“God, Johnny.” She sobbed. Simon wound an arm around the woman as she finally broke. The pain finally consumed her, having shattered slowly until all of the pieces met and collapsed.

Y/N buried her face into his chest as she cried, his hand holding the back of her head. She struggled to breathe as she tried desperately to kick through the panic attack.

“It hurts, it fucking hurts.” She sobbed.

“I know, baby.” He whispered. He held for a little while longer until she finally calmed.

“I have to sign it.” She told herself. Simon released her, and she looked up at him.

“I have to do it, before I change my mind.” She said quietly.

Doctor Halpin waited outside of the morgue until Y/N and Simon stepped out from inside. She watched as Y/N stayed at the man’s side, clinging to the wall for support.

“I’m ready to sign.”

She held out the clipboard and pen for her to obtain. “Sign on the dotted line with today’s date, and Sergeant MacTavish will be ready for cremation in the morning.”

Clicking the pen, Y/N held her breath and quickly wrote her signature on the dotted line, followed by the date in which she said goodbye to her brother.

John, Gaz and Simon looked between each other as she returned the clipboard.

“We’ll give you a call when he’s ready to be picked up.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” John said. The woman nodded and smiled as she disappeared back into the morgue.

Later that day, John and Gaz had promised a night of drinks to Y/N after the day in hell she had received. The only condition on her going, was to make sure that Simon was going.

“You wanted me here, then?” He asked as he swirled his glass of whiskey in his hand.

“I wanted you here because you understand me the most.” She told him quietly. John and Gaz were talking to Joe on the other side of the counter. “And Joe wouldn’t let me drink if I was alone.”

The noise she heard beneath his balaclava and deep in his chest was a chuckle, which caused her to lower her head as she smiled widely.

“I’m not responsible, I think Joe should really check himself into a facility.”

“He knows you claim yourself responsible for me.”

“You’re a big girl.”

“It has nothing to do with being a big girl,” she said to him. “It’s me not wanting to be alone, and when I’m with you, I’m not. Okay?”

Simon was silent as she grabbed another shot.

“I’m not getting drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“All right.”

Y/N turned her head and looked up at him. Through his balaclava, he stared at her with dark, piercing eyes that were sometimes too difficult to read.

“If you want to leave, then leave. I’m not stopping you.”

“Why wouldn’t you stop me?”

“Because if you don’t want to be here, I’m not going to force you to.” She answered curtly. “I don’t want you to be here because you think you’re supposed to be here— that Soap would want you here. I want you to be here because you want to be.”

“How do you know I don’t want to be?”

“Because you’re not showing me anything that indicates that you want to be here.”

“Buy me a whiskey and we’ll talk.”

Y/N stared at him.

“Joe, one whiskey. And no, it’s not for me.”

A few hours had passed, and they hadn’t left until Joe closed the doors for the night. It was around two o’clock in the morning when Y/N, Simon, Gaz, John and Joe exited the bar.

“Thanks for the drinks, Joe. Much appreciated.” John clapped his hand on his shoulder. “All right. Simon, we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

He patted Simon’s chest before reaching to cup Y/N’s face before following Gaz and Joe towards their cars.

Y/N exhaled as she turned to Simon. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asked.

She shrugged as she stuffed her hands into her pockets. “For being here. . . For helping me, ever since. . .”

She cleared her throat. “I know you aren’t the type to open up to anyone, but you need to know that I’m always here for you. Wether it’s someone to bitch to about work, or if you need to tell any stupid army jokes to.”

Y/N was sincere, she always had been. But he knew that she was dangerous in ways nobody could explain. He could see it in her eyes the day that she attacked Shepherd— she would kill to avenge her brother.

But right now, she was. . . Fragile. She was soft, delicate, desperate for someone to keep her holding on.

Simon lifted his hand and cupped her face. When her lips parted, Y/N swallowed nervously.

“Simon. . .”

She raised her hands and tugged at the mask that hid his face. As she pulled it above his lips, she stared at them before taking a step forward.

Standing on the tip of her toes, he leaned in until she carefully touched his face, too nervous to make any sudden movements to scare him off, as if he were a stray dog. A mutt.

Simon could smell the perfume coming from her skin and the tequila from her lips as she inched closer. But once they were close enough, the man closed his eyes as their lips met.

@poohkie90

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #imagines #john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

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Aita for requesting money from my sister-in-law that she received because my cat died?

I (40F) and husband (40M) live with his mom and sister (48F), we are both disable so we take care of the household and do all the chores and errands for the household since they work long hours away from home for several days up to a few weeks at a time. That means we have to take care of his sister's 3 cats and 1 of those cats is special needs. He tends to just pee on the floor near the litterbox so we usually have puppy pads underneath.

We also had a cat but he died unexpectedly. We don't know what caused it since he had just had a check-up a few months ago and we were told his health was perfect. He was up to date on shots and was under 5 yrs. My husband put up a minor tribute on his page and stated that if anyone wanted to help with cremation we'd be grateful. His sister also posted about it and stated how sad and depressed she was about it. (My cat didn't like her because she is loud and it terrified him so she didn't know him much, if at all.) She apparently accepted donations and told my husband that she'd give him what she received, this also happened right before her flight and trip to see her boyfriend. He tried to ask her how much she had received so we could purchase stuff the (her) cats would need while she was gone and she shrugged and didn't say. He then asked if she'd give him some money to get those items and she told him no because she really needed to save money for her trip. We made due and waited til she got back to request again. She had told her mother that'd she would have money ready for the cats needs when she got home. She arrived home and my husband brought it up again since she'd be leaving back to work in the next few days. She is now saying she's going to shop for the house and cats and won't give my husband anything for another 2 weeks. My husband is upset, his sister tends to get very cheap household items that break or don't work, and she also doesn't know what food brands and types her cats eat. He is worried she is gonna waste money getting all the wrong items and got into a minor argument. My husband's mom doesn't like to upset his sister because she tends to have breakdowns and then threatens self-harm.

So are we the asshole for bringing up that she made money off our cat dying and used the funds for her vacation instead of using it to take care of the pets that she insisted she needs?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

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Laid to rest

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1.6k

Summary: Part 2 of too late

A/N: This is another ‘what if’ but it’s never gonna happen. Don’t worry, my brain is just running around in a circle chasing its tail. I’ll post something fluffy later.

Warnings: heavy angst, death, thoughts of suicide

Wanda’s eyes are red and puffy as she watches the wind blow through the trees of the mountains behind your house. It had been three weeks since you’d died and she still couldn’t bring herself to let you go. It had taken her brother, Bucky and Steve, all dragging Wanda away from you after the shootout had ended before things had calmed down enough to allow them to regain their bearings.

When everyone had realized you and Boone hadn’t made it they’d been devastated. No one had been able to hide it enough to help pull Wanda from her grief. The sisters had taken care of the two of you while Pietro tried to get his sister to calm down. He’d watched her go through nearly every stage of grief in that ruined bar, and by the time he’d gotten her home she was near catatonic. She hadn’t wanted to go to the compound or her house because it didn’t matter what she did, there would be signs of you everywhere.

Pietro decided to take her to the house, and he’d only regretted it immediately when Wanda broke down again at the sight of your car in the garage. Despite her refusal to talk or do much of anything for days, Pietro stayed with her to make sure that she didn’t do anything too damaging. He watched her drink for the first day, then just cry and sleep for the next before she finally talked to Nat and Yelena to find out what had happened to you.

She hadn’t wanted to see you like that again, and she’d known your final wishes since the beginning of your relationship. She confirmed that you were cremated along with your dog, and she’d asked for you to be brought home.

Now Wanda was standing in the middle of the woods with her family and two urns in her hands. You had never told her what you wanted done in the event that your dog passed away because that was never something you could bring yourself to talk about. You loved him so much and he was still young so the idea of losing him made you cry. Therefore you never thought about it, let alone talked to her about it.

So Wanda took some liberties, but she assumed that you would want to be with your dog if at all possible. She wanted to do that for you, and she looks over to the horizon from the cliff where the two of you had gotten engaged before she takes a deep breath. You’d brought her out here one morning when it had been dark and cold, but you’d sworn that the sunset would be worth it. She had humored you because she loved you and she hadn’t regretted it when the sun came up and bathed the mountains in a beautiful glow. She remembers turning to you to tell you that you were right when she sees that you’re not longer standing beside her.

Tears start to fall as she remembers how shocked she’d been to see you kneeling before her with a ring in your hand. You’d told her how much you loved her and that no matter what you’d always be with her. You wanted to marry her and have a family and grow old together.

Wanda carefully readjusts the urns as the wind continues to whip her hair around her face. She glances over her shoulder at her friends who all look distracted by their own thoughts.

Wanda’s grateful for the years she’s had them in her life. Times weren’t always good and she sometimes couldn’t stand how close they all were, but they were her family at the end of the day. She and Pietro had lost their own family relatively young, but they had found a new one among their friends…and you.

She owed them a lot. Especially after the past few weeks of hell for all of them. She’d fallen apart and she still didn’t see any of the pieces in sight as she tries to get used to living without you and Boone. The silence of the house is overwhelming and despite having every television in the house on at all times, it didn’t help. Nothing could keep her from noticing your absence.

Wanda turns around completely before she addresses the group that joined her out here in the middle of the woods on this depressing day. She knew she wasn’t good company, but they all deserved to be here as she sends you and Boone off in a way that hopefully helps her realize that neither of you are coming back.

“Y/n would have hated this.”

Pietro seems to be the only one who knows where his sister is going with this. Bucky and Steve just wait for her to continue while Nat and Yelena shoot her a confused look. They had been thinking about how the last few weeks had been horrendous as they dealt with the aftermath of your death.

Yelena had almost completely shut Kate out for the first week as she drank herself sick, and Nat has been training so hard that she’d broken bones in both of her hands. They’d dealt with their grief in different ways and despite not being anywhere close to better, they needed to be here for this.

“She would hate that I brought you to this special place so we could all drown in our grief together.”

Wanda takes a moment to imagine you standing beside her with a disgruntled expression and your hands on your hips. She actually smiles and her brother nearly starts tearing up at the sight. He’s certain that he hasn’t seen his sister smile since she lost you.

“She’d probably threaten to push us off the cliff if we didn’t stop moping.”

Wanda doesn’t bother to mention that she’d considered jumping off of it and other things multiple times before today. She’d dreamt of ending her life so she could be with you, but she knows that you wouldn’t welcome her if she did it. She’d promised you to try and move on, and despite hating the idea and wanting to scream just at the thought of it, she was going to do it. Not any time soon, and she didn’t think you’d fault her for that, but she will find a way to keep going.

“Y/n would love that you’re all here with her…and her spoiled dog.”

This got a few laughs and Nat smiled at the thought of you spoiling your dog at every possible opportunity. She tries not to think about how he’d been shot almost as many times as you that night when you both had been targeted. They were still trying to figure out the details, and it was slow going because they almost didn’t want to know, but the consensus was that you were the target. That would explain why you were the first one shot and the only person killed during the attack.

“And although I know they would rather be here with us, I’m at least grateful that they’re together.”

Yelena wipes her eyes when Wanda says this and she looks away as she realizes that she is grateful for this too. You’d loved your dog almost as much as you loved Wanda and knowing that you’d seen him die right before you tore her up.

Wanda sighs deeply as she wipes her eyes and looks up at the sky. The light blue peeks through the trees and she smiles once again as she looks to her brother first before the rest of her family.

Despite giving him shit often, he was a great brother who’d been an immense help through all of this. He’d practically moved in and stopped working so he could make sure that she was okay. Wanda couldn’t even bring herself to ask about work or how they were going to respond to this. She’d just been grateful for her brother’s presence and his silent reassurance that he was there for whatever she needed.

“Now this isn’t goodbye because I refuse to believe we won’t see her again, but if she gets her way like usual, it won’t be anytime soon.”

Wanda turns back toward the view that takes her back to one of the happiest moments of her life before she walks towards the edge of the cliff. She doesn’t realize she’s being followed as she clutches the urns so tightly her hands start to ache. She glances down to the trees far below her and she only has a moment to consider how far down it is.

A hand on her shoulder makes her turn to the side to see Pietro shooting her a kind smile. She checks her other side and confirms her suspicions that Nat and Yelena are standing beside her as well. She sighs in defeat as she starts to open the urns that contain your ashes and Boone’s before she steps so close to the edge that a strong breeze could send her over.

“This is just the first part of keeping our promise. Accepting that she’s gone a-and eventually being okay despite this.”

Pietro’s hand on her shoulder steadies her enough to tip the urns and watch as the breeze carries the two of you away. She’s crying by the time she passes them to her brother with a look that he just nods at. Wanda squeezes her eyes shut as everyone else takes a few moments to honor you as well. She continues to cry silently as she sits down so her legs are dangling over the edge of the earth. Pietro is quick to follow her and soon everyone’s sitting and getting lost in their thoughts as they watch the sun rise higher.

“I hope she knows how much she was loved.”

Wanda leans against her brother as he sets the empty urns beside him with a nod. He wraps an arm around his sister as he glances back out to the view that will now always remind him of you.

“She knows.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #wanda x you #silver springs #silver springs drabble #silver springs au #not actual events for silver springs #angst #death

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alchemicalwerewolf · 1 month

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I simple MUST know what your specific funeral instructions are

ok, ok, ok. The short version which I quote is the one I’ll use, because I go into immense detail last that sometimes and it takes a solid ten minutes to get through and I’m not typing that out.

When I die, I want my right hand cut off and cremated, and I want them to take out my brain like they did for the mummies.

alright, starting off, I wanna be in the most steampunk fit they can find. AND NO DRESSES!!! I have put it upon my brother to ensure this doesn’t happen. Dresses are what I hate most. I want everyone else to come in goth/emo/punk/steampunk/etc. like, sure you should wear the dark colors, but be cool about it, we don’t need to look like we’re going to a funeral.

I want by body to then be hung from the ceiling fan and swung around while thanks for the memories by fallout boy and I’ll sleep when I’m dead by set it off blare at top volume. I want my cremated hand to be tossed into the crowd like confetti at the exact moment my doppelgänger (my sister’s job to find) runs in with a very confused look and plays a pre recorded sound of me asking what’s going on, but all in old English and Spanglish. Then, I want them to stack up playbills from my favorite musicals and burn them, and dump them into the ground before my casket, to lay the ground for good. Then they’ll lower in the casket and everything, but I’ll have a mourner that wails at the top of their lungs and jumps into the ground with me. They’ll have to forcefully remove him. It’s my brother’s job to find this one.

After all that commotion, I want everyone to start to leave, but then, there will be fireworks that go off in the night sky, and they’ll all stop to look at that, and then my mom will pass around her famous queso and salsa, and they can dump some into my grave before they cover it, just so I can get one last taste of goodness. And they can look up to the stars and realize, despite all the commotion I caused, just like this, whether or not they cared about me. And the ones that decide they cared absolutely have to take care of my plants because I cannot let those die without me, I have out in too much work.

Also, I require there to be at least one episode of tangled the series going. Or vampire diaries. Not because I watch the show really, but because Damon is hit af.

oh, and I’ve left it to multiple people to make sure my fanfics all get completed after I’m gone. Can’t leave my readers on a cliffhanger lol.

#Ippy asks #Alchem answers

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akwertyy · 1 month

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Why I Like Satosugu [Pt 1] - Not Spoiler-free

Generally, I first have to grow to like each character individually before I really get obsessed with the ship. Satosugu occupies a bit of a weird spot for me because I appreciate Geto as a character, but I don't necessarily resonate with him the same way I do with Gojo (I swear it's not because I have a god complex). It's a bit like the "my son egg n his brother cheese" post except it's "my blorbo and his boyfriend."

What I really find compelling about Gojo's character is that despite being hailed as the unequivocal "strongest," he still has a human side. Gojo gave Amanai an extra day in Okinawa at the expense of pulling a second all-nighter. He made sure that Fushiguro and his sister were taken care of. He was genuinely angry when he thought Itadori had died, remarking that he hadn't forgiven the higher-ups for taking a young person's youth away.

When the curses are planning to attack Gojo during the Shibuya incident, Jougo remarks that not even a thousand measly human lives would be enough to distract him. But it was Geto's appearance alone that stopped Gojo in his tracks.

The subtleness of it is the real kicker. From Gojo's capricious attitude, you'd think he doesn't give a shit about anybody else. But at the end of the day... he still cares. Even if everything goes to shit.

Kenjaku tells Gojo, "You're only considerate during such awkward moments," in reference to how Kenjaku was able to possess Geto's body because Gojo didn't cremate it.

Wanting to connect with other people and trying your best, but having it blow up in your face. The frustration of having being unable to reach someone even though you were right in front of them, because you weren't enough... Despite all of this, Gojo lived on. Even as he mourned Geto, and tried to prevent a repeat of what happened to Geto from happening again. He took on students, and reached his hand out to others.

#gojo satoru #satosugu #Gojo's weak human side...

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nei-ning · 8 months

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Commissions & Readings

I realized today that my passport, my only ID, is going to expire soon and I need new one ASAP. If I can't get new passport as my ID before the old one expires, I'm screwed! After leaving the application to new passport, it may take even a month before I get it.

I also did some calculations. Because of Verti's passing, I lost my passport money in that. Verti's passing came to come to cost me 72 euros (vet putting him down), cremation + urn + delivery 110 euros = 182 euros in total. Over half of my monthly money for food.

New passport would be 70 euros. And that's why I am reaching to you, my dear followers, since I can't wait in the beginning of November. I would be offering commissions and readings for anyone interested. Cheap ones too.

*****

COMMISSIONS: 5€ for fully colored and shaded bust +1€ for extra character. Simple background +2€

I do: Nsfw, sfw, anthros, OC, OC x original character, original x original, OC x OC, human x turtle, anthro x human, blood, horror, gore, cute stuff, chibies. I don't do: Realistic things, super kinky stuffs (ask me more), machines, Splintercest,

Your commission will be send to you via email! You can contact me via ask or chat :3 PAYMENT VIA PAYPAL ONLY AFTER SEEING THE SKETCH / BEFORE FINISHED WORK!

If you want bigger and more detailed commissions, ask me! I am ALWAYS willing to talk and compromise about the prices. I also can draw an art for you to your fanfic if you prefer that! :3 *****

READINGS: 5€ for 1-2 cards. You can ask anything but try to keep the questions limited to 2 AT MAX! I still think myself as a beginner even that I've done readings to myself, to my sister and few friends for few years now (not super actively) so, please, take only that what resonates with you, leave the rest!

Your order can be sent via email or here via chat! Payment via PayPal after I have received your question / before I send you the answer!

*****

If any of you have any questions about any of this, since I could have forgot something, ASK! :3 Every coin would help me, honestly and truly.

#text #commission #reading #I hate to ask money #but now it's a time when I really need it #without my ID I don't exist..#please reblog #more people see this the better!

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gentrychild · 2 years

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Ultimate Todoroki Housetour. Featuring Izuku.

Shouto: This is the kitchen. Here my mom pored boiling water on my face. I blame Endeavor.

Izuku: …

Shouto: This is the training room. I was trained here for hours till I puked.

Izuku: ø.ø

Shouto: This is the living room. I spent happy days here with my cat, lazing on the couch.

Izuku: T.T

Shouto: My sister Fuyumi. She’s an elementary school teacher.

Izuku: It’s a pleasure

Shouto: My brother Natsuo, quirkless. He wants to be a doctor.

Izuku: 🤩

Shouto: This is the filthy racoon. Still hangs out around here freeloading.

*At this point Izuku.exe stopped working when he realized the filthy racoon was identical to pro hero Cremation.

Cremation is looking at Izuku with a mouth full of Doritos. Shouto is shaking his head at him and telling Izuku how much better he was as a cat. Izuku doesn't say anything, doesn't even nod, and follows Shouto on the rest of the tour.

#Izuku: As an only child I don't know if it's normal little brother behavior or just Todoroki insanity.#actually a raccoon au

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vvitchy-succubus · 1 month

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His escort was more than I could have ever asked for. The streets were lined with people whose lives my Andrew touched. I clung to his casket with our other siblings and told him over and over how much I love him. Every officer that worked with him lined the entrance for my family. My sweet sweet Doodoo made everyone who ever met him, love him instantly and that fact was made abundantly clear today. His services are Friday before his cremation and I can't even imagine the amount of people that will be there for my Doodoo. I feel like I'm walking around in a million pieces. But he would hate me crying over him, he would want me to joke and laugh at his expense. He would tell me to stop being such a pussy, it's chin up time and I can do this because I have to. I have to for my boys and for my mom and dad and because he fucking said so that's why. He was the best of all of us, he was my strength and my rational mind and every ounce of idgaf. He was my sweet doodoo, my goober, my scoob, my doo-butt, my sweet sweet Andrew. He was the man who cried with an old woman who just lost her husband when he was a cart boy at Menards. He held me up when our grandma's died. He held me through my divorce. He held me together our entire lives. He was my little-big brother, my protector, my back-up if I ever needed it. He was a good man and he deserved a full life. 27 years is not enough, so I will live my life the way I know you would have wanted me to me sweet sweet Drew. I will keep living for you because I know it's what you would want from me. As your big sister I was always ready to go first, but since you beat me to it, I will keep going for you, my Andrew. I will raise your nephews to be the same kind of man that you were. I will live the rest of my life making you proud, I promise.

#my Andrew #my Doodoo #i love you to the ends of the earth #to the moon and back #forever and ever kid

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bitchinfawkseh · 5 months

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Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 8

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Summary: Although it's less than ideal, Sam, Dean, and Cheryl stay at her mother's place in New Orleans and prepare for her sister's funeral.

W.C: 5594

Warnings: Death, funeral, religious imagery, grief.

[A/N] For the full sentences and conversations in Spanish, there are translations below them. I don't speak fluent Spanish so most of it is done via Google translate. Sorry to any Spanish speakers out there!! P.S, I've only ever been to one funeral before and they were cremated and my family isn't religious at all so I have nothing aside from research to go off of

Masterlist | AO3

Damn near ice box is what this basement is. Due to the boy's generosity, she was "sleeping" on the pullout couch while they took a makeshift bed on the floor.

Cheryl picked and pulled at the skin on her lips, staring up at the unfinished ceiling blankly. Was this all even real? Was it some sick nightmare? Is Rosità even dead or was she crazy and hallucinating off of whatever they gave her in some psych ward.

She inhaled deeply and lazily rolled her head over to watch Sam's chest rise up and down. Maybe if she kept her eye on him he wouldn't die either. A quiet ticking sound began, then the furnace began to kick into gear. A quiet electric hum filled the room and warm air started to blow out from the vents above them. She blinked slowly and let her hand drop to her chest, instead feeling the steady beat of her heart. Deep down, she desperately wanted to wake Dean up. Just to talk, or watch TV, anything really... He may not know what she's feeling right now, or be able to understand it in depth, but he is an older sibling too. If Sammy died... God she didn't even want to imagine that.

Should she wake him up? Cheryl sat up onto her elbows and peered down at Dean. He was closest to the pullout, facing it even. She swallowed hard and gripped the cotton sheets, "Dean." She whispered. He didn't stir and she felt her stomach tighten. "Dean..." She said again, a smidgen louder. Her voice sounded hoarse, like she was begging for him to wake up.

She didn't want to be a bother, or make him upset - she knew he got cranky when he was woken up before he was ready to be a person. Cheryl's brows furrowed and she reluctantly laid back down, whatever, she was fine. She didn't need to wake him up for company - it was stupid to try anyway (and utterly embarrassing.)

"Chiquita! Breakfast!" Cheryl's Mother (Maria) called out. Cheryl reluctantly slid out of the arm chair and padded into the kitchen adorned with various apple themed things. Cheryl's brows furrowed and her nose scrunched up, "Where's Sam and Dean?" She asked quietly. Maria glanced up, her frazzled dark hair pinned up away from her face - not that it did much, there were still a few free pieces here and there. "They offered to do the shopping for the wake. They'll be back soon."

"Mom, they're guests - you can't make them do stuff..."

"They offered, Cheryl Lynn. How could I refuse? They are such nice and handsome young men."

"Mamá..." Cheryl trailed off. Maria poured some salsa onto a breakfast dish, her finishing touch to Huevos Rancheros.

She passed the dish to Cheryl and smiled faintly, "Please eat, we have a busy day." She sighed deeply and took the dish, setting it on the round dining table. When her Mother grieved, she liked to keep busy by cooking, cleaning, anything that involved her hands pretty much. Somehow she was keeping it together amidst all the chaos, and Cheryl admired her for that.

Cheryl picked at the meal with her fork and inhaled deeply, "Mom?" She asked. Maria hummed in acknowledgement as she plated up Sam and Dean's meal. "How did Rosità die? Nobody’s told me yet." Maria went silent, her movements completely stilled and then the front door opened.

"Hey! We're back!" Dean called out as he kicked off his boots. Cheryl had a damn near heart attack when they first got here and he tried to just walk in with his shoes on. He carried two quite heavy paper bags full of groceries to the counter and smiled at the Mother and daughter. "Hey." He repeated.

"Thank you so much for going to the shop," Maria began. She quickly shoved a hefty plate full of some delicious smelling breakfast into his hands and smiled kindly. "Relax, relax."

Maria snatched up some bags from Sam before doing the same, "Relax, boy's!" She insisted. San smiled awkwardly and set his plate down on the dining table. "I'd like to help with the groceries - Miss. Jones."

"Nonsense! And call me Maria." She waved him off. Cheryl shoved some eggs into her mouth and snorted, shaking her head in amusement. "It's no use, Sam. She's very particular about how the kitchen is organized."

"Oh..." He trailed off.

Dean took one bite of his food before completely melting, this may be the best damn thing he's ever eaten. "This is delicious." He commented. Maria smiled wide and came around to give Cheryl's shoulders a squeeze. "Well, Cheryl Lynn makes it much better."

"Cheryl Lynn?" He asked with raised brows. Cheryl sighed and rubbed her nose, she was surprised that it took this long for them to figure out she had two first names. "It's normal in our culture to give children two first names instead of a first name and a middle name." Cheryl explained. Dean’s brows shot up and he nodded slowly, Cheryl Lynn was a cute name. Rolled off the tongue nicely.

Maria clapped her hands together and hurried back to the kitchen to put the groceries away. "Busy day, cooking and cleaning. And Cheryl Lynn, I want you to go buy a dress today. Your clothes aren't church appropriate."

She sighed in annoyance and pinched the bridge of her nose, she was tired and barely had the energy to do anything. "Mom." Cheryl said, more impatient than before. Sam set his fork down and glanced between them, the energy was tense. Like a fight or something was about to break out. "Si, mi amor?" Maria hummed out. She sucked in a breath and leaned back in her chair. "How did Rosità die?"

Now everyone was silent, Dean even stopped eating (which was rare.) Maria slowly turned her head and put the whole milk in the fridge. "Cheryl..."

"How!? How did it happen, Mom!? She was only twenty-two!"

"It... it..." Maria squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Parents were supposed to outlive their children. Having to attend her young daughter's funeral brought more than enough heartache. "The... police said it was an animal attack."

Cheryl's eyes widened and her heart dropped, a creeping feeling of dread slowly filled her. It was her fault... Rosità died because of her... Meg. Cheryl felt bile creeping up her throat - she quickly pushed herself up from the table and darted to the bathroom. She hunched over the toilet - emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. She retched again and shook violently, she felt paralyzed with grief - the crushing weight of being responsible for her baby sister's death was gut wrenching. Cheryl panted and sniffled deeply, blindly reaching for some toilet paper to wipe her mouth with. She pushed the nob down and watched as the water swished. A quiet knock at the door roused her attention and she scowled at the door. "What?" She heaved.

"It's me... Sam."

"Come in..."

The door creaked open and Sam slipped in, shutting the door behind him. Her bottom lip wobbled and he crouched down onto the floor next to her. "It's my fault..." She croaked. He shook his head and his eyes softened, this was a difficult situation. Meg and the Daeva went after Rosità after they ditched Chicago. For whatever reason that may be - revenge, mind fucks, just for fun - whatever. It wasn't Cheryl's fault, they had no way of predicting this would happen. "It's not, Cheryl. There was no way you could've known."

"I should've known!" She cried out. Sam's lips thinned and he glanced down at the old tiled floor with tiny flower decals on them. "We all should've known, I mean, I should've. I have weird dreams. But you don't blame me." He said. Cheryl sniffled and hugged her knees to her chest, "That's not... It's not your fault. I don't see how it would be."

His brows raised, "And it's not yours either, it's Meg's."

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she clenched her teeth together. "I'm gonna kill her." She hissed. Cheryl's eyes met Sam's and her nose wrinkled, sadness and guilt, now rage. "We're gonna send that bitch back to Hell after this." She shook her head and gripped her knees so tight her knuckles went white. Then, she exhaled sharply. "What's Dean doing?" She asked.

"Uh, he's helping your Mom with the dishes." Sam answered. Cheryl snorted and chuckled humorously, was he being serious? "Dean? Doing dishes?"

"Yeah, I know." He breathed.

Cheryl wiped her eyes with the butt of her palm and sighed deeply. "Can you take me to the store? I need to get a dress for tomorrow."

He nodded. "Of course, I'm sure Dean will let us borrow the Impala." Cheryl shook her head and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Maria lived close enough to everything, they didn't need to take the car. "Nah, the store isn't far. I wanna walk."

"Okay."

Cheryl dragged her boots along the linoleum flooring lazily, she didn't have the energy to pick her feet up. "Maybe I can just show up naked." She joked. Sam snorted and his lips quirked up into a slight smile, "Yeah, maybe. Wouldn't you be kicked out of your church, though?"

"Not much to believe in anymore." She muttered. Her eyes caught on a row of various black shirts in different styles. "Maybe I can piece something together with stuff I already have."

"That's a good idea."

Cheryl scanned each shirt quickly, pushing them aside on the rack until she found this nice simple black blouse. She held it up for Sam's inspection and pursed her lips together, "I could wear this with those wide leg pants I have. The ones that go with the pantsuit."

"That'd look nice." He nodded. Cheryl nodded and pulled it off the rack, well, that was easier than she thought. She thought she'd have to go through the annoying process of finding a dress and then shoes to go with it. She opened her mouth to speak when her eyes landed on a gorgeous black trench coat. It looked to be made of wool, so it'd be nice and warm - and it would last forever. "I want that coat." Cheryl breathed. Sam spun around and tilted his head, it was a double breasted coat - with large buttons on the cuffs of the sleeves. "It's a nice coat." He commented. He glanced down at her, "If you want it, you should get it."

"You're so right."

When Sam and Cheryl got back, Maria had of course put Dean to work - because there he was, fixing the leaky tap in the kitchen. Her face fell and she glanced over at her Mother, "Mom..." Cheryl trailed off. Maria stopped vigorously mopping the floor for a minute and smiled wide. "Ah, how was the shop? What did you get?" She asked. Dean looked over his shoulder and screwed the cover back onto the kitchen tap. He didn't mind doing all these things around the house, in fact, he actually liked it. He's never lived in a proper house long enough to do things like this.

"It was fine..." Cheryl murmured. She set the bag down on the table and pulled out the blouse for her Mother’s inspection. "This was on sale," She said. Maria's brows raised and she ran her fingers across the fabric of it. "Very nice, is that all?" She asked, trying to peek inside the bag. Cheryl then pulled out the trench coat for Maria to inspect, her eyes widened and she hummed lowly. "Oh... this is so nice. It is made of wool, it'll last you years."

"Exactly what I thought."

"Try it on! Show me how it fits." Maria demanded. Dean crossed his arms against his chest and watched as Cheryl reluctantly pulled the coat on. He wondered what she was thinking, what was going through that pretty little head of hers. He knows how he'd feel if Sammy died, but this was all real. Her sister was gone, and there was no bringing her back.

Maria smoothed out the coat's fabric at Cheryl's waist and clapped her hands together. "Dean, do you think she looks nice?" Maria asked with a raised brow. Dean flushed and he swallowed hard, he ran a hand through his hair out of nervousness and nodded. "Uh, yeah." He answered. Her mother pursed her lips together and looked back at Cheryl - she was scowling (pouting.)

"Me gusta el, arregla mis cosas y come mi comida. Es un buen novio." Maria said.

("I like him, he fixes my things and eats my food. He is a good boyfriend.")

Cheryl's eyes widened and she glanced over at Dean, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She couldn't ever imagine him being her boyfriend, he was so... Dean like. His brows furrowed in confusion and he looked to Sam as if he was expecting a translation. Sam only shrugged, he didn't know what they were saying either - he only knew a little Spanish. "¡Puaj! Mamá, él no es mi novio." Cheryl groaned.

("Yuck! Mom, he isn't my boyfriend.")

"Porque diablos no?"

("Why the hell not?")

"Porque él no es..."

("Because he's not...")

Maria rolled her eyes and waved Cheryl off, "¡Él arregló el grifo que goteaba en la cocina! ¡Él es mi yerno, no me importa!" She ignored.

("He fixed the leaky faucet in the kitchen! He's my son-in-law, I don't care!")

Dean was a good man in her eyes, and she thought he would make a lovely suitor for her daughter. He was handsome too, they'd make beautiful grand babies. Dean glanced between the two of them before smirking proudly, having no idea what they were saying - but still wanting to participate he said: "Si."

Maria's head snapped over and then she smiled widely, well that was just adorable to her. "¡Él también tiene unos ojos preciosos! Cásate con este chico, él está enamorado de ti."

("He also has beautiful eyes! Marry this boy, he is in love with you.")

Cheryl scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Mom! Stop! Is this really what you're concerned about?" She hissed. Maria set her hands on her hips and her face hardened, she would not take this attitude from her. "Cheryl Lynn, do not use that tone with me." She warned. Her lips thinned and she shrugged dramatically, she didn't care if she was being a brat, or rude. Or the fact that she was making a scene in front of Sam and Dean - how could her mother be so concerned about her love life when Rosità is dead? It baffled her. "I'll do you a favor and go to the basement then!" Cheryl yelled.

Maria flinched when Cheryl slammed the door shut and she sighed deeply, hiding her face in her hands. "I am so sorry about her attitude." She whispered. Sam frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets, she was bound to snap at some point. He was surprised it took this long. He nudged Dean's arm with his elbow and Dean's brows knitted together. "What?" He asked.

"Go talk to her."

"Why me?"

Just do it, man." Sam sighed. Dean swallowed hard and nodded curtly before slipping past Sam and heading down to the basement. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Cheryl one on one much since they got here. Hell, he was still processing that Meg killed Rosità. He felt at fault for not being able to do anything - Meg got away because he let her. Cheryl's little sister was dead because of him and his laziness - his stupid mistake of not killing the bitch when he had the chance.

Dean crept down the unfinished stairs and managed to catch her pacing back and forth, muttering incoherently. A step on the stairs creaked and he cringed, shit. Cheryl's head snapped over and she shot him a glare, "Go away." She fumed. His eyes softened and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, he padded towards her - slowly so she didn't startle. "Cher..."

"I said go away!" She yelled. Tears welled in her eyes and her face contorted from anger to pure grief and sadness. She set her hands square on his chest and pushed him back weakly. "Go away." Cheryl sobbed. Dean's lips curved down into a frown and he took every push and fragile punch she sent his way. "Cheryl, I'm sorry." He said in a hoarse whisper. "I'm so sorry." He repeated. Cheryl let out a choked sob and clutched the fabric of his shirt in her fists. "I killed her..." She whimpered. He shook his head and hesitantly raised a hand to cup her cheek, he wiped a stray tear with his thumb and his jaw twitched. "No, you didn't."

Cheryl sniveled and buried her face in his chest - she desperately held onto him - sobbing into his shirt and blubbering unintelligible words. The dam had finally broke and now every emotion, bad thought, piece of guilt, memory, and regret was rushing through like a tidal wave. Dean instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and cradled the back of her head. His eyes watered and he inhaled deeply, "Yeah, let it out." He whispered. He hesitantly rested his chin on top of her head and rubbed her back in slow soothing circles.

Eventually, her crying died down to just sniffles and that's when he felt safe to pull back to survey her face. "You wanna talk about anything?" He asked. Cheryl shook her head and her bottom lip jutted out, threatening more tears. His shirt was stained with her tears and snot - which was utterly embarrassing. "Oh..." She whimpered. Dean's face fell and he quickly glanced down, sure it was a little gross but who the fuck cares? A little snot never hurt anybody. "Hey, hey, hey," He began. He raised his hands and cocked a brow, now he had to tread carefully if he didn't want her to cry again. "It's okay, it's okay. It's just a shirt, it can be washed." He soothed.

"You're not mad?" Cheryl sniffled. Dean quickly shook his head, he could never be mad at her, not for something like this. "Hell no."

She nodded slowly, "Okay..."

Maria leaned back in the pale green rickety chair sat at the little table in the kitchen, "When Rosità was little, she adored Cheryl Lynn. She was a copycat, too. Whatever Cheryl did, she had to do." She smiled faintly. "She loved her big sister so much, and now one of my baby's is gone." Her lips curled down into a frown and she glanced over at Sam who was listening intently. He nodded in understanding, "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through right now." He said. Maria's eyes watered and she quickly looked away from him, she placed her hand over her mouth and inhaled deeply. "You remind me so much of her, you're very kind and empathetic. It is a good trait to have."

"Thank you..." Sam flushed. He'd never been complimented on something like that before - he didn't think anyone cared or noticed. Shit, he didn't even know people thought of him like that.

Maria nodded and clasped her hands together in her lap, "I may seem weird... For worrying so much about Cheryl Lynn right now." She said. "But, they were quite close. And Cheryl... She is my baby too. And I want her to be happy." Maria sighed deeply and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Cheryl may not "need" her mother anymore, but that didn't stop Maria from needing her baby. Her dark eyes met Sam's and she smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling with gratefulness. "I'm happy she has found happiness with you and Dean."

"Me too..."

The rest of the day was much calmer and uneventful, Cheryl and Dean came out of the basement about 30 minutes after her outburst and she apologized to her mother. Then, they cooked and cleaned like crazy. They made all sorts of things, tamales, taco salad, pozole, and pan de muertos (bread of the dead.) It took a lot of self control for Dean not to eat most of it, it smelt and looked fucking amazing. He wished he had tried all of this Mexican food sooner just based on its smell.

Cheryl dried off the last bowl from dinner - which was just extra pozole and set it back on the tea towel that was laid out on the counter. Dean tilted his head and watched her body move, her hands, her arms, he noticed the slight waves in her hair from it being in a bun all day. "How're you feelin'?" He asked gently. He knew she'd probably get mad if he asked if she was okay, because she wasn't. Nobody was. She shrugged and her eyes met his, "Tired." She replied. He nodded in understanding and scanned all of the dishes that were yet to be put away. "I'll deal with these, you go to bed." Dean said.

"But... the kitchen has to be -"

"Precise, I know. I'll figure it out." He cut off. Cheryl's lips thinned into a straight line and reluctantly hung the towel she had in her hands over the oven handle. "Okay... get some sleep too." She whispered. Dean watched over his shoulder until she descended down the basement stairs before getting to work. Putting away dishes couldn't be that hard, right?

Maria sipped on her tea, standing just near the little hutch full of her fancy second hand china. She pursed her lips together and her eyes narrowed, "Are you sure they are not dating?" She asked in a whisper. She glanced up at Sam who snorted quietly and took a sip from his own tea. "Yeah, it's weird. I know." He replied. Maria nodded and looked back just in time to see Dean finally figure out where the spoons went. She smiled sadly and tapped her fingers along the side of her mug. "That's a shame."

"Yup." Sam sighed.

Rain poured from the clouds and wetted the sidewalk - forming large puddles. How cliche, a funeral and rain. Cheryl let out a heavy sigh, a wool coat was a great buy now. She clenched her fists and nervously tapped her foot on the ground. "I know catholicism isn't your guy's thing. There's gonna be praying... and singing. You can leave if you want." She said to Sam and Dean. Dean's brows furrowed and he scoffed, he adjusted his tie with one hand - the other was holding up an umbrella. "You're kidding right? We aren't leaving." He responded. Sam nodded in agreement and tucked his hands into his suit pockets. "We're here for you Cheryl, whatever you need."

"Thanks..." She whispered, trying to ignore how their support and kind words made her heart feel warm for the first time in a long time.

The church usually was so crowded while everyone found seats, Cheryl preferred to go inside after all the chaos. Honestly, with all the people piling inside she was shocked that Rosità knew this many people. Cheryl's eyes landed on Marshall and Owen - Rosità's beloved husband and son. He struggled with getting Owen out of his car seat, and that's when Cheryl went to help. "Marshall, hi." She said softly. His dark bushy brows raised and he smiled slightly - his curly tufts of hair were getting soaked by the rain. "Hey." He replied. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and peaked inside the car. A little (much bigger from when she last saw him) boy with big brown eyes and curly black hair smiled at her. Her sweet, sweet nephew. Cheryl waved at him and chuckled softly, "Wow he's gotten big."

"Yeah... he has..." Marshall trailed off. He hadn't left the house much since Rosità died, and hadn't had much energy to do anything aside from take care of their son, honestly. "Look, I've got some flowers in the back. You mind taking him?" He asked. Cheryl smiled and shook her head, she loved kids - and she especially loved her nephew. "Not at all."

Cheryl leaned down and pushed at the little red button with her thumb, Owen's seat belt popped open and then she worked on the chest piece. "You remember me? Huh? Your auntie?" She asked, using a tone she only ever used with babies. He babbled incoherently and clutched onto Cheryl's arms as she eased him out of the car. Once Sam and Dean realized she had a damn baby - and no umbrella, they rushed over.

"Who's this cool dude?" Dean asked, his lips quirking up into a slight grin. Cheryl cooed at Owen and booped his nose - making him giggle. "My nephew, Owen." She answered. His brows shot up and he nodded slowly, well he didn't know that. Not that it was his fault or anything, Cheryl was a private person. "Wow, well. I see the resemblance."

"He looks like his mama." She sighed. She pointed to the backpack on the floor of the car under Owen's car seat. "You mind grabbing that, Sam?" She asked. He nodded and heaved the heavy diaper bag over his shoulder. Having a baby seemed like a lot of work, carrying them around, a heavy ass bag, and of course planning around their nap time. There was no way in hell Cheryl would have any kids anytime soon.

Marshall pushed the trunk door shut, he had at least three bouquets of red roses. Roses were his wife's favorite and he'll be damned if he didn't get them for her funeral. "Cheryl," He called for her attention as he adjusted how the bouquets sat in his arms. He glanced up and then his eyes widened, "Who are these guys?" He asked. Cheryl smiled faintly, and balanced Owen on her hip "This is Sam and Dean. They are my friends, we live together."

"Oh... well, I'm Marshall... I'm Cheryl's brother-in-law."

"Nice to meet you," Sam smiled. "I'm sorry for your loss." He added.

"Thank you..." He trailed off. Owen fussed and fisted his tiny hands in Cheryl's coat, she propped him up higher and smoothed out his hair. "Let's go inside... he's probably cold."

As soon as she saw that casket at the end of the aisle, posed at the altar, she wanted to crumble right then and there - sink into the earth and become one with it. But she couldn't - not with a baby in her arms - and not with all these people around. "Sam..." Cheryl whispered under her breath. Luckily, he heard her and dipped down. "Yeah?" He asked. Cheryl swallowed hard and staggered back, her breathing became unsteady and quick - and it felt like she was sweating buckets. "I... I can't do this." Cheryl wavered. "Where's my mom?" She breathed.

"Uh," He glanced around before his eyes landed on Maria - she was in the second row, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "Over there, come on."

Cheryl slid into the seat next to her mother and set Owen in her lap. "Mom..." She trailed off. Maria gratefully took her grandson and bounced him on her leg, "Mi corazón..." Maria whispered, referring to Cheryl. She offered her hand for her to hold and Cheryl immediately took it, lacing their fingers together and squeezing it tight. Everyone else filed in next to them, Marshall, then Sam and Dean. Maria leaned over and smiled sadly at Marshall, "The roses are beautiful, my boy."

"You think Rosità would say the same?"

"Absolutely."

Once everything was settled, the priest read a variety of transcripts from the Bible - then, it was time for prayers. Cheryl reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her old set of rosary beads. She hadn't used it in forever, it felt a little weird even - but right now it oddly brought her a sense of comfort. Her and Rosità used to pray together all the time before bed, they would pray about things children should never have to wish for - like for dad to stop hitting mom. They recited some prayers - and when she cracked an eye open and took a peek at Sam and Dean, she saw that they were praying too. Well - Dean, not so much, he had bowed his head and closed his eyes - but nonetheless, it was a kind gesture.

Cheryl clutched the beads in her hands, the little silver cross dug into her skin causing a slight twinge of pain, but it kept her grounded. She squeezed her eyes shut and mummered under her breath along with the priest, group prayer was always her favorite when she regularly went to church. All of the quiet whispering made her insides tingle, it sounded nice.

The priest sprinkled some holy water onto Rosità's closed casket, a way of blessing her body. Then, he crossed himself and everyone else (minus Dean) followed suit. Owen started to fuss and whine just as the priest began to give his whole speech about Christ and death - Cheryl wasn't paying much attention. Maria adjusted how he sat, maybe he was uncomfortable but of course that didn't work - babies had funny timing. Marshall leaned over and stroked his head, "He may be thirsty, he hasn't had much to drink today." He whispered. Maria nodded and clicked her tongue, she leaned forward a bit and sucked in a breath. "Sam, can you get the water out of the bag?" She asked in a whisper. Sam quickly nodded and fished the little yellow sippy cup out of the side pocket. He handed it to Maria, who gave it to Owen and he immediately called down. Gulping back what looked like a ton of water at once - he was left breathless, panting heavily once he pulled away from the straw.

Cheryl smiled softly, kids didn't even have to try when it came to being cute. She better not get any damn baby fever because of this kid. Cheryl took the chance to glance around, the church was full of people - some she recognized, from high school and from Rosità's quinceanera. Rosità was always popular, well-liked, surrounded by tons of friends, and even in death they were here for her and her family.

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Now was the poem reading before they lowered Rosità's casket into the ground and put her to rest. The rain continued to pour - but almost everyone was safe from the angry downpour because they all had planned for it and brought umbrellas. Dean had taken the roses from Marshall to hold onto so he could carry his own son - the roses were supposed to be set on the casket before Rosità was buried - they were important.

Cheryl clutched her mother's hand tightly - so hard that her knuckles were turning white. She couldn't move, she was paralyzed - her little baby sister was getting put into the ground for the rest of eternity. She was in that coffin, she was in there - her lifeless corpse.

Everyone took turns walking up and saying their final goodbyes, taking the tiny shovel spiked in the pile of dirt and scooping some onto the casket below before dropping a rose down. Then, Maria went, Marshall and Owen, Sam and Dean. And now, it was Cheryl's turn. Her breath hitched as she approached the deep hole, her hands became shaky and her heart started to race. There was one last rose, one last goodbye left to be said.

Cheryl's eyes welled with tears and she twirled the stem of the flower between her fingers. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She croaked. Cheryl's lip curled down and she sniffled deeply, it felt like there were a ton of bricks sitting on her chest - she couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." She choked out.

It felt like the sky was crying with her, it soaked every inch of her sniveling and shivering form - leaving her number than she already is. Cheryl clenched her fists and hung her head, her stringy wet hair stuck to her cheeks and neck uncomfortably. Her shoes were sinking into the mud - and she was left alone here as everyone was on their way to Maria's house for the wake. Cheryl couldn't move - she didn't want to move. She couldn't leave Rosità again, that's how she got killed in the first place. Cheryl wasn't there to protect her. She was a bad daughter, a bad wife, a bad friend, and now a bad sister. There wasn't a place in heaven for her, she was damned to hell the second she was born.

Suddenly, the rain had stopped pittering her and she glanced up. An umbrella, Dean's umbrella. Dean's lips thinned down into a slight frown and he swallowed hard. "It's, uh, she - she's goin' to a better place." He said in an attempt to comfort her. Cheryl nodded slowly and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. She hoped that heaven was real and that her sister was there - but she wasn't sure.

Hesitantly, she tossed her rose onto the coffin below and let out a shaky breath. "Is it bad that I don't want to go to the wake?" She asked softly. Dean shook his head and watched little pools of water form in the shoe prints in the mud. Cheryl sniffled and her arm swayed back, her hand lightly brushed against Dean's and they both tensed. Her eyes darted around and she tucked some of her sopping wet hair behind her ear. "Let's go." She whispered. "I'm cold."

"Alright..."

#Spotify #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #spnfandom #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x oc #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn

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ace-and-the-rpg-horrors · 1 year

Text

Dolls from the Opposing Side

Dragging her feet to the monitor room, Kugie Kizuchi sighed. The participants had gone through an exhausting first trial, and now had access to the third floor. Those who had died a few hours prior... she didn't want their ghastly last moments plaguing her mind ever again.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, what horrific trap or game lies in wait beyond this door!" Her own stupid attempt at a joke was just that- an attempt. It didn't improve her mood at all.

The sight on the other side of the door on the other hand...

Two people.

Familiar people.

Greenish hair.

Teal eyes.

Freckles.

Short for their ages.

Kugie Kizuichi's annoying, yet caring, older brother and sweet and adorable little sister.

"SHIN! KANNA!" Wasting not a single second, Kugie threw her arms around them both, ready to ask why they were in the death game, did they miss her, and what on earth they were wearing. If the situation was any different, she would have been in hysterics, laughing at Shin's crown of strawberries and whipped cream, simultaneously cooing at how cute Kanna looked in braids (despite the upside-down ice cream on her head.)

That's when it happened. The action which made Kugie realise that something was horribly wrong. The action that extinguished the spark of hope she had gained. The action that gave her the gut feeling that these people were not who she thought they were.

Shin had pushed her away the moment she initiated the hug. And now he was glaring at her.

Despite Shin and Kugie having the typical sibling rivalry, getting along the least out of the three of them, Shin had never dared to look at her that coldly (not even when Kugie had accidentally deleted one of his school files for an ICT lesson, or when she'd made Kanna run away from home.) If looks could kill, Kugie would be cremated, reincarnated and killed again by now, let alone simply dead.

"Just who do you think you are? What makes you think that my little sister is alright with strangers hugging her whenever they please?" he snarled.

Come to think of it, Kanna hadn't returned the hug either, and she usually loved Kugie's hugs...

In the shock of the moment, Kugie could only respond in the sarcastic manner she usually did to Shin, pretending she couldn't feel the dread crawling up her throat at her "brother's" sudden hostility and pretending that this wasn't yet another of the game's cruel tricks.

"Haha... hell Shin, I know that I'm the one who's not blood related to you two, but you're still my siblings, y'know? Or did you disown me in the short time I was gone? I'll have you know, I stole your crackers exactly one time, you can't hold that over me forever!" She tried. She tried so hard to sound like it was just another normal day at the Kizuchi household, your classic Kugie and Shin argument.

Rather than another vicious comment, Shin fell silent, completely perplexed... because as far as he was aware, wasn't he programmed to have one sister? Honestly, Kugie reckoned that she might've preferred the mean comeback to this concerning silence. Kanna, on the other hand, spoke for the first time since the encounter.

The painfully familiar pair of innocent, doe-like eyes gazed at the older girl, before the 14 year old pulled at her brother's sleeve, her voice no more than a paranoid whisper. "E- erm... big bro? Why... is this girl saying she's our sister? She looks nothing like either of us... is she dangerous?"

Snapped out of his confused state, Shin nodded, standing between the "sisters", not taking his sceptical stare off of Kugie for a second. Following her big brother's example, Kanna decided that she too should be suspicious of this girl, gladly hiding behind him.

"... That's right, Kanna. This girl is trying to trick you, she's just saying she's our sister to manipulate us! But we won't fall for it, will we? Don't worry, I'll protect you, I won't let these lying death game participants hurt a single strand of hair on your head."

There was no way Kugie could stop the tears brimming in her eyes. The three of them should be on the same side, and she should be protecting Kanna, along with Shin- not against him. The other emotion brimming over, other than heartbreak, was jealousy, not unlike the jealousy which she had experienced when their parents had first adopted Shin and Kanna.

Their adoption had taken place when Kugie was ten. Shin was an awkward, timid teen, and his eight year old sister Kanna was somehow even shyer than him. Nevertheless, Kugie was ecstatic to finally have the siblings she had dreamed of for so long. But whatever she did, the green-haired pair didn't leave each other's side. Of course they were nice to her, but Kugie didn't share the sibling bond they had already formed before meeting her. It was a bit ironic really - they were the ones who were adopted, yet Kugie was the one feeling left out.

Kugie finally had someone to play sports with? Turns out Shin has a chronic illness, making him prone to fainting. Kugie made space for Kanna to sit next to her? Kanna still preferred to sit next to Shin. Kugie wanted to draw and do homework with Shin? Shin was already busy picking flowers with Kanna. Kugie planned to bake a cake with them both? Oh, suddenly they're called for a meeting with their social worker.

Her parents told her to be patient.

"They're still learning to cope without their biological parents"

"Kanna is more clingy towards Shin because she's afraid of losing him like their parents."

"Shin has always been protective of Kanna, he's not used to having another sibling to share her with."

"Of course they both love you sweetie! They're just naturally shy and haven't learnt to match your upbeat, lively energy yet."

Despite this, her resentful feelings grew, and she just couldn't hold it back anymore. Unfortunately, she happened to take it out on the worst possible person.

The little green-haired girl had approached her sister one Saturday morning, clutching a pencil case and notebook, and beaming, excited to draw flowers and various other cute things with the older girl. However, fate had chosen to be cruel- Kugie was already in a bad mood, seeing as Shin had gone off to visit his weird friend Hiyori, completely forgetting that he said he'd help Kugie with her maths homework.

"Big sis! Big sis? Can you draw the roses for Kanna to colour in? Kanna tried to do it herself, but roses are too hard! Kanna can only do the easy flowers by herself!"

Whatever suppressed emotions bubbled within Kugie made her scoff and scribble harshly on her maths worksheet as if it had wronged her family for the past 3 generations.

"Oh ummm..." Kanna, although a little naive, could sense the heavy atmosphere. "If big sis is busy, that is okay! Kanna would ask Shin, but he's with his scary friend again..."

Shin.

Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin

Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin Shin

Shin and Kanna. Kanna and Shin. Kugie who?

Was Shin Kizuchi all that the stupid girl knew how to say?

Why was she making such an effort to get along with them anyway? A creepy little girl who only spoke in third person despite being 7 years old for crying out loud, and her deadweight brother who hung out with even creepier people, like that damn Sou Hiyori.

They were horrible thoughts. Wretched, evil, mean thoughts. Directed at the two most gentle, timid souls that Kugie had ever met. But she couldn't drown those thoughts. It would've been just fine if that was where they ended. At thoughts. But she couldn't stop them spilling out either.

Scary how quickly thoughts turn into speech...

"So now you want me as a sister? You've got a perfectly good brother, so why on earth do you need me? You didn't need me before, and you don't need me now!" Kugie's own words frightened her. She knew she wasn't a cruel person, so how was she saying all these spiteful things?

"Ah! No! B-big sis, Kanna has always loved you!"

Stop. Kugie, stop. Anyone would know they'd gone too far at this point. Look at her- she's about to cry any second. Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it

The unpleasant, horrid words kept falling effortlessly from her mouth.

"Oh yeah, so why is it that you only want anything to do with me now?" Kugie laughed bitterly, failing to shut herself up before shattering the precious child's self confidence. "I know. You may be stupid, but you're not blind. You've noticed it too, right? How your dear brother is spending more and more time with that Hiyori guy, and not you, ever since he started highschool. He's getting bored of you, isn't that right? And now you're turning to me, cause I'm your second choice. I'm just second best. That's ALL I'll ever be to you, and to Shin, no matter how hard I try!!"

Kanna was visibly distressed now, her eyes practically pleading for Kugie to listen to her, "O- oh big sis, you've got it- it all wrong... big bro would never leave me... not- not second best... I love you."

Even so, Kugie continued, ignoring the crying that had started.

"Well you know what Kanna? That's just fine. I don't even care anymore! I don't need a useless brother who just hides in his room all day! I don't need a useless sister who just whines and seeks attention! I'm just FINE."

Kanna didn't return home after her morning flower picking that day.

Shin returned home about 15 minutes after Kugie's outburst, and by then Kanna was no longer in the garden. Being the observant type, the boy could sense something was off as soon as he entered the house. Though he expected it to be quiet as their parents were visiting someone, he was surprised when there was no Kanna jumping into his arms (and nearly knocking him over) and no Kugie trying to make conversation.

Kugie's head perked up as soon as she saw Shin standing in the doorway of the room she and Kanna shared.

Before he could even open his mouth, she spoke immediately.

"I know this will make you mad... but in a fit of jealousy, I may or may not have yelled at our- your little sister and implied that you didn't love her anymore." After all she had said to the poor girl, Kugie felt that she was the last person on the planet who deserved to call herself Kanna's sister.

Before his face morphed into a completely appalled one, she quickly added, "And she may or may not have run away."

Sure, Shin Kizuchi was fifteen years old, perfectly capable of giving someone a good telling off. But was it terrifying to see a normally meek boy looking ready to commit several crimes? Indeed it was, and Kugie wished that an earthquake would hit their home right that second so that the floor could quite literally swallow her.

Although Kugie braced herself for the yelling, it didn't come. Instead, a usually weak hand with currently a surprisingly firm grip grabbed hers and pulled her out of the house. The two eldest Kizuchi children walked around the areas near their house, a cold silence present between them. Scanning for any sign of their little sister.

"The park!" Shin suddenly gasped, recalling that Kanna loved parks, streches of grass that went as far as the eye could see, sprinkled with daisies, occasionally containing a lake with the ducks she enjoyed feeding.

And there she was. A bucket obscuring her face, her green hair peeking out from under it. Making a feeble attempt to rock the swing she sat on to distract herself from her big sister's cruel words.

Kugie reconciled with Kanna immediately. The younger sister, with her heart of gold, forgave the older one immediately. Their older brother on the other hand? Well... he stayed silent after comforting Kanna, telling her that Kugie didn't mean any of what she said, and that he'd never abandon her. That didn't stop Kugie from feeling how furious Shin still was at her. She didn't blame him. After all, she had made a vulnerable eight year old run away from home, a sister that Shin would give up his life for. And Kugie's careless words could have put that innocent child in danger.

On the walk home, Kanna held both Shin and Kugie's hands. Before, she would have only held the former's.

The day had gone by quickly, and before they knew it, it was night and Kanna had fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the tension between her older siblings. Kugie was surprised that her brother hadn't told their parents what had happened when they came home- he may have been quiet, but Shin gave Kugie snitch vibes, especially in a situation when someone had done wrong to Kanna.

Another surprise came when Shin ran into Kugie in the upstairs corridor. Despite the earlier events, his face showed no malice directed to her. In fact, he himself looked a little guilty.

"Hey, Kugie... I've realised that what you did today was probably because of me. I'm sorry."

What? Somehow managing to overcome the shock, Kugie managed to reply, "You're sorry? It was my fault! Just because I got angry-"

"But it was my fault that you got angry," Shin cut her off. "Am I wrong in saying that you were jealous that me and Kanna are closer siblings than with you? Please Kugie, let me take the blame. As the oldest, I should have made an effort to include you more. It's no excuse, but I'm not the greatest at socialising, so I had no idea how. But now that I know that you've been suffering, I hope it's not too late to salvage things- so... would you be able to give me and Kanna another chance?"

He held out his pinkie finger. "Siblings?"

Kugie couldn't help but mirror Shin's small smile, sealing the promise. "Siblings."

The high school girl sobbed even harder at the memory. She could sense the other participant's concern, but she couldn't hear their words. Because the only thing running through her mind were all the things she would do to have her siblings back...

She'd take back every time she'd criticised Shin for being friends with Sou Hiyori, even if she didn't approve of him.

She'd make more time for Kanna, never refusing to play with her.

She'd take back every time she teased Shin by calling him pathetic or weak.

She'd spend every single penny of her pocket money on ice cream for Kanna.

She'd never start petty fights with Shin, even if they did laugh about it afterwards.

She'd take back every thought of Kanna being annoying or clingy.

Everything, anything. She'd do it all, if only she could see them again. Their real versions. Not these dolls from the opposing side.

Her annoying, yet caring older brother. And her sweet and adorable little sister.

#yttd #your turn to die #kimi ga shine #kugie kizuchi #shin tsukimi #kanna kizuchi #sou hiyori #midori yttd #ace's writing :)#I WROTE THIS IN NOVEMBER 2021

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ratasum · 4 months

Text

Obituary in the Soren Draa Herald, 350 Colossus, 1334

Vilarr of Vriaxxi 32 Zephyr, 1263 - 349 Colossus, 1334 Aged 71 Years

Vilarr of Vriaxxi, born in 1263 in Soren Draa, Metrica Province, became one with the Eternal Alchemy on 349 Colossus, 1334. He will be met in the afterlife by his parents, Vriaxxi of Lyassi and Tsahl of Riffa, as well as all those who have come before.

He is survived by his previous contracts, Cautti of Krobb and Boraa of Seadd, his two children, Vezz of Cautti and Vanna of Vilarr, and two grandchildren, Tybalt and Sieran of Rissia.

Vilarr was a respected professor at the College of Synergetics for most of his life, and - incidentally - also a member of the Arcane Eye. This appears to have granted him an elevated sense of self worth, and little time to devote to his contracts or bothering to understand the needs and wants of his children. He abandoned his eldest son when he was six years old to be raised by his mother alone, and never informed his daughter - ten years younger - of his existence. He admitted to neither child that both of their mothers ended the contract early due to his ego and dismissive nature in the relationship.

No attempts were ever made by Vilarr to mend bridges with either of his children, as he remained spiteful towards his son and cold towards his daughter for the majority of both of their lives. Both were viewed as unworthy in his eyes to some degree, either not achieving his level of intelligence or simply not having his brutal work ethic.

As his son, I have spoken with my half-sister, whom I only learned of following his death when she learned of my existence when the records were opened on his passing. Both of us agree that his presence will be missed by few, very few tears will be shed, and we suspect there will be no lamenting over his passing.

As his surviving family, we will remember Vilarr in our own ways, which were mostly tragic, painful, and troubling times. I will share what little I can of him with my children, and Vanna is free to do the same. We each have painfully few fond memories of him, and while perhaps we will come to think of those times someday, we both believe at the end of the day we will miss what Vilarr was never able to be in our lives: a good and kind and loving father and grandfather. We hope he finds some peace in the afterlife. And for the rest of us, I hope we can finally begin to heal as his presence no longer casts its long shadow over our lives.

We plan to hold no service for his cremation, though the Arcane Eye may do as they please. We will truly have no closure, as neither of us was aware he was ill. We hope the Alchemy can find some better purpose for him than his hate.

#bunny writing #keeper vezz #vilarr

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theboysfromaustin · 19 days

Text

Well, this one's upsetting.

----

April 13, 1989

“Mommy!” Kazuo broke away from his babysitter, the five-year-old running to Nanami, who leaned to greet him. There was a large bruise on her face, and one wrist and ankle were wrapped. “Nanami! Don't hurt yourself!” Kenjiro snapped as he paid the teenager.

“I'm f-fine, Ken…I want to see my b-b-boy…” Her voice wavered as she embraced her son. “Whatever,” he turned to leave. “Where are…?” “I need smokes,” he replied gruffly. Kazuo relaxed, his father gone, “I missed you, mommy.” “I missed you, too, sweetheart. Come on, it's past your bedtime. We'll lay in the big bed.”

Kazuo paused momentarily - his father didn't like him in there, but if he was with her…She took his hand, the two snuggling in bed, Nanami groaning from pain. He noticed she'd rub her belly intermittently. “Does your tummy hurt? Do you need the pink stuff?” Nanami smiled at her son, “No, I…” Her gaze darkened for a moment, “I hit it when I fell down the stairs.”

Kazuo nodded, wrapping his arms around her, “I love you, mommy.” “I love you too, baby boy.” She felt a stab of anguish at the word ‘baby’, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “Are you crying?” Kazuo himself tried not to cry. Kenjiro didn't like it. “Yeah…I got a lot of pain.” She didn't want to explain it - she was still trying to figure it out, if it…

If it had been intentional.

It hurt that she'd lost the baby.

A little girl, Kazuo's baby sister.

She buried her face in his hair, which smelled of Johnson baby shampoo, thinking about what sort of brother he would have been. How he would have taught her all sorts of things, and…

Protected her.

She considered leaving, if it had been intentional, taking Kazuo, going back to Austin, but…

Kenjiro would track her down. If it came to that, at least she had her dad and Ian, and Ian….

Ian was the kindest, sweetest man outside the courtroom. Inside the court, he was vicious and relentless, a good ally. She hugged Kazuo tighter, wincing. Nanami was glad she had Kazuo. Kenjiro wasn't a great father, but she loved him. He loved her.

Right?

And she wavered between that love and taking Kazuo away. She was afraid that if she started getting things together that he'd hurt Kazuo. She'd seen him get angry at the boy, hand twitching as if wanting to hit him. Nanami didn't know if he'd actually struck Kazuo, the boy wouldn't say anything.

Kazuo let his fingers thread through her hair. He could sense a deep sadness emanating from her, but he was scared to ask. He wondered if she was also afraid of Kenjiro. He tried to stay away from him. His dad wasn’t nice. He yelled, and sometimes, he’d hit him. It never left a mark, though. Not yet, anyway.

Nanami kissed Kazuo’s head, “Are you tired?” “Yeah.” “Go to bed, honey. I’ll stay with you.” Kazuo sighed, burying his face in his mother’s neck. Nanami held him close, body aching. Her mind returned to her daughter, biting her lip. Kenjiro had done something further unspeakable. She’d been unconscious when she’d delivered her stillborn daughter - 4 months along. He’d allowed her to be cremated as medical waste. No ashes would be returned.

She hadn’t even picked out a name yet.

Nanami inhaled shakily, chin resting in Kazuo’s hair. She still had him. Her precious baby boy. He slept soundly, fingers gripping her shirt. She’d protect him, no matter what. Exhaustion was taking over as she sobbed quietly. Kenjiro was still gone - probably out drinking - and maybe that was for the best. She’d give it a few months, if things didn’t get better…she’d leave. She’d take Kazuo and go home. They’d be protected.

She drifted into uneasy slumber.

Kazuo was roughly awakened when Kenjiro grabbed him by the shoulder, dragging him onto the floor, knees slamming into the wood. He cried out, looking up. In the dim light, his father towered over him, and he instinctively flinched. “What the fuck are you doing in here, you little shit?” He smelled strongly sour, a smell Kazuo would later be able to identify as alcohol. “I..I…mommy wanted…” He blinked back tears, rubbing his knee. “Get out.” “But mommy…” “Get. Out.” Kazuo looked back at Nanami, not wanting to leave her. Kenjiro lunged forward, grabbing him by the shirt, lifting him off the ground, leaning in close. Kazuo quivered in fear, avoiding eye contact. Nanami slept, still working off the drugs she’d been given.

Kenjiro threw him into the hall, Kazuo yelping, scooting away against the wall. He grabbed his knees, fear coursing through his body. Kenjiro lurched into the doorway, maintaining eye contact with his son, and slammed the door. Kazuo scrabbled away into his room, hiding himself under his blankets. He curled himself up, crying quietly. He had to be quiet, or dad would hurt him. Again.

He was afraid to tell his mommy.

Because…if he told, then his mommy might get hurt, too.

It was better if just he got hurt.

He rested his head on his pillow with a quivering sigh. Maybe one day he’d be big enough to fight back. For now, he had to be strong, to protect his mommy. One day, at some point in the future…

There would come a day when his dad couldn’t hurt him.

#oc #original character #tw abuse #abuse tw

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 10 months

Text

Princess of Dragonstone: Chapter 19. Final chapter before the end.

Description: Daella became Aemonds prisoner and learned the importance of magic from her half sister, Alys. Things werent as they appeard and now everyone will pay the price for it.

warnings: Major character death, Targaryen insanity, magic, Alys rivers, Pregnancy failures, childloss and childmurder, hallucinations and stillborns, blood, choking servants, abusing servants, calling a stillborn child a monster unintended suicide

I'm soulless but this made me cry.

Aemond did not bother to join me for bed that night. I would not have let him into our rooms anyway. I am too busy hugging my stillborn child, my beautiful little boy.

Isn’t it poetic that Aemond will never be able to become a father, after he never had one himself? I like to think it is.

Eventually, one of the maids of Aemond disturbs me. No one did that day. They all ignored me. Alicent, the Queen, the King. They all were busy mourning their own losses when I was giving birth to my most beautiful creation. ‘’M-my lady…’’She gawks at my eyeless, winged boy. I shoot her a glare that will hopefully remind her who she is speaking off. ‘’I-I brought the prince a blanket, my lady. As you requested.’’ She wants to grab my son, my sweet son. I smack her hands away, causing her to cry out. I take the blanket from her as she drops it, wrapping it around my special son.

The insolent wench keeps eyeing us, worry and concern written in her eyes. The wench dares to question me. The wench dares to bother me. ‘’Good. Now leave us. I wish to be alone with my son.’’ I announce to her, cradling my sweet boy. He is the only thing giving me joy. He is all I live for. I finally found peace in a way that I never would imagine that motherhood would grant me.

The maid gulps before speaking, as if she knows that she is making a grave mistake. She tries to take the child from my arms. She tries to take away my son. ‘’He’s dead, my lady. He never lived. He came outside of you, silent as the grave. He does not have eyes, my Lady. He’s a mon-’’ I put my son down in his cradle. Before she can finish her sentence and call my son an awful name, I have wrapped my hands around her throat and started choking with all my might, as I try to snap her neck as if its a unworthy stick of wood.

The wench cried out and its hard to believe I once tried to save her life by whoring myself to Aemond. I just want her to shut up. I want everyone to just shut up. ‘’My lady! Grgk!’

I chuckle with a voice much unlike my own. ‘’You dare, call my son, the prince of Dragonstone, a monster?’’ I eye my son, but he is still safely in his crib. Good. If anyone touches him…

It will be the last thing they feel before they die. ‘’Please, my lady. He is. You must cremate him and move on. You are slowly becoming dangerous my lady.’’ Cremate him? Why would I? He is my son. He will never leave me. They took too much from me. No one will take anything from me again. Not my son.

I laugh, in her face. ‘’I never was not dangerous. I just lied to myself. I don’t want to lie anymore. My son, he is all I have. Do you understand? Aemond and his whore-bitch took it all from me. I will bathe in their blood.’’

"Stop!" Of course. I turn around, still choking the maid. Aemond is there. He is here. Good. He is next.

I lash out, forgetting he is supposed to mean nothing to me. ‘’She called him a monster. She called him a monster!” I softly mumble the rest of the words, as tears burst from my eyes and sobs rock my body. Aemond sighs before taking my hands from her throat. She runs off instantly.

‘Where is she.’’ I ask him, without looking in his direction. I notice his brows start to knit together with worry and concern as he takes in our son.

Aemond is surprised. ‘’You haven’t cremated him yet.’’ I would rather throw myself in the flames than offer my innocent babe to it.

I smile, chuckling. Aemond doesn’t know. Aemond’s stupid. He always has been blinded. Not by his eye, but by his bloodlust, his greed, his ambitions. ‘’You will not touch him. You have no right to touch the future king of the seven Kingdoms.’’

Aemond becomes uneasy. ‘’Are you hearing yourself speak?! You’ve gone insane.’’ Now it is his throat that I am holding. ‘’Who’s to blame for that? Is it our blood causing the insanity, or is it our lifes full of tragedy and never-ending heartbreak.’ Aemond easily kicks himself free, kicking me in my stomach. The wounds have not yet healed. He does help me up once I have let go of him.

‘’Where is she.’’ I grit out. ‘’I need to stop her. We all need-’’

‘’You are delirious.’’

‘’I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about anything anymore. Do you have any idea what it is like, pushing something out of you that is cold and dead?’’ I chuckle. Of course he doesn’t. His face softens. ‘’Daella…’’

‘’I did this for you! I wanted you back! You only cared about me for some pity revenge against my mother! It was never about me! It was always about you, you and you!’

He becomes insulted. Good. ‘’Daella!’

‘’Go back to Harrenhal. Go fucking fuck that whore sister of mine, and fuck yourself into a early grave. You will never lay with me again. He will be our only son. If you ever become as stupid as to bring your witchling children here, I swear they won’t survive to see the next day.’’

‘’You dare threaten my children?’’ He groans. I only chuckle.

‘’You dared to murder ours. I have nothing left, Aemond….’’ I notice that the crib is empty. Empty as I feel inside. I run to the crib, when desperate screams leave my body. ‘’No, no no no! My son! My beautiful baby boy!’

Aemond is shocked as well. ‘’That is impossible.’’

I am close to ripping my own hair out. ‘’It is not! Don’t you understand? She has taken him! She needs him!’’ Why is he so stupid. And why can’t I tell him what I want?

Aemond scoffs. ‘’She needs our dead son?’’

This man. ‘’Aemond, it was never about you.’’ Alys appears, finally. She rubs her pregnant belly mockingly and smiles when kissing Aemond’s cheek. ‘’You have tried very hard to put a son inside me. Unfortunately, I don’t have use for our child.’’ With a simple wave of her wrist a blade appears. She drives it through her own stomach, cutting out the child. Aemond bristles in anger and fear.

She turns to look at me. ‘’And you, little sister. Torn in my eye…’’ I have barely any energy left to fight. The voices speak loud. They scream. They tell me that Alys is pregnant. It is over for all of us. It will be over for all of us soon.

Aemond defends me but he is too late. ‘’You will not hurt her.’’ I need to find him. I need to protect him. He cannot be the monster she wants him to be. Alys will make him a weapon. She will destroy him and this world.

The witch chuckles as I bite my fingers, trying to find my son under pillows. ‘’I don’t have to Aemond.’’ ‘’You did it for me. Just look at her. She has gone fully mad, the poor thing.’’

Aemond realises that Alys kills me, but he handed her the knife. ‘’Stop. You are doing this. I know you are. Make her stop. I can’t bare to see her like this.’’

I repeat more and more phrases, faster and faster as my vision starts to blur. ‘’Pregnant. She’s pregnant. It’s all over. The blade, the dagger. The song of ice and fire. The seed is strong, the dragons danced, its over. Protect the blade.’’

I laugh. ‘’My son…I must…find…my…son.’’ I see him, outside of the windows. He smiles at me, my son. He is beautiful. He is flapping his wings, he is free and his eyes. They are beautiful. Almost seen through. Like two perfect diamonds. My beautiful boy. I must go to him. Now.

Aemond can’t move to stop me as I rush to the window and let myself fall down. Aemond can hear how my body splashes against the ground, before likely bursting into different pieces ‘’No!’’

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queercontrarian · 1 year

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my first azris fanfic ehehe

feels like it was just hours ago i told @iftheshoef1tz about this idea (because it was literally hours ago and i just wanted to contribute something to romance week. i know it's not technically meetcute day, but it's whatever day so i can do what i want). anyways, have the unedited first chapter of my modern azris agegap au snippet bundle - that's a lot of words. i'll shut up now. enjoy.

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Azriel is already in pain when he wakes up, which is usually a bad omen. His knee feels tender, and he hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet. It doesn’t bode well for the day he has planned, and he wonders if he should just call Cassian and cancel their hike for today.

With a sigh he forces himself to throw the warm blanket to the side and at least get his feet on the ground. One small step towards starting this day. A coffee would be nice, he thinks, but Nesta has been on his ass to limit his consumption, which is ironic because his sister-in-law drinks much more coffee than he ever has, but if he has one now he won’t allow himself to have one at Cassian’s house later, and he definitely needs that one to make it through the afternoon and the evening without prematurely passing out on his couch.

With nothing else to do, Azriel stands and slowly makes his way to the kitchen, and yes, the knee is definitely going to cause problems. Once again he curses himself for deciding to walk home in the dark after getting shitfaced at Cassian’s and Nesta’s party, for not seeing that dumb root sticking from the ground and for getting his foot stuck under it. Most of all for having gotten to an age where the pain in his joints doesn’t disappear after a maximum of two days. He knows that he’s not twenty-five anymore, but it’s been more than a month since the party, and he can still feel it. Maybe someone should just shoot him, like a lame horse.

Standing in the kitchen he stares at the coffee pot on the stove, a fancy little espresso maker Rhys got him for his fifty-third birthday, along with a trip to Italy. He realises he hasn’t left these woods since that trip, except for his weekly trip to get groceries at the town’s supermarket, and visiting Rhys and Cassian at their homes located around that same forest he lives in. He’s been moving around, contained to that twenty-five mile radius, for two years.

On second thought, maybe he will have a coffee. While he reaches for the espresso box - another expensive gift from his friends - and both his knee and his shoulder pop this time, he remembers that he went to Greece for Feyre and Rhys’ wedding. That was last year, so he can still count that towards his “recently been active” list. Hanging out with family, travelling overseas. Suck on that, Cassian, he thinks. I’m going places, I’m not rotting away all alone in my cabin. I don’t need to “get out more”. I don’t need to “meet new people”. I’m perfectly fine where I am.

Granted, he is alone right now - he takes his eyes off the stove to look towards the window where Mr. Goggles used to sit. The cat had already been old - and named, as Az always feels the need to stress - when Feyre had given him into Azriel’s care because there was no space for him in Rhysand’s house. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the room - Rhysand’s mansion has more rooms than the two of them can possibly know what to do with - Rhys is just very allergic to cats. So Az had taken the grumpy old furball in and they had lived together for nearly three years. Now Mr. Goggles sleeps in the earth below his favourite window sill, under a small bush of white pansies that Elain says remind her of the fur pattern on his face. Azriel wonders what flowers she’ll put on his grave when he dies. Will they bury him next to the window behind his favourite armchair too? He wants to be cremated, but he’d be fine with a cardboard urn like Mr. Goggles’ casket.

The whistling and clattering of the espresso maker pulls him out of his thoughts. It’s not all that bad. Sure, maybe retiring so early was a mistake - he doesn’t need the money, he just misses having something to do - but when Cassian and Rhys left he hadn’t felt like being the only one to stay behind. Maybe he underestimated just how empty his cabin would feel once he spent more than just the nights and weekends there, with his brothers spending the majority of their time with their wives, ten miles through the forest in the homes they’d built for themselves. He’s not lonely, he doesn’t need or want anyone else in his house, or his life for that matter. The area feels crowded enough with just Old Man Schmidt down the street. Maybe he’ll get another cat. Nesta has mentioned occasionally seeing one roaming about where her office is.

While he sips his coffee he’s still debating whether to call the hike off - his body tells him yes but his brain says if he mentions it to Cassian he’ll come to his house to inspect the old injury himself, and he hasn’t even told him he fell in the first place, and he will undoubtedly notice the pathetic state of Azriel’s house. Everything is reasonably tidy, but it’s painfully obvious no other human being has stepped through the door in months, maybe even a year. The last time he had people over was for Mr. Goggles’ funeral, for Christ’s sake. Azriel shifts his weight onto the damaged knee and immediately regrets it. He bites back a pained groan, letting his head fall back against the cabinet.

Cass would tell him to see a physician. Az hates going to the doctor, and not only for the usual reasons - he hadn’t gotten the memo that it was a bad idea to sleep with, have a messy entanglement and then ditch the only medical professional for nearly 200 miles. He’s not gotten a check-up in almost four years. Neither of his brothers knows that though, and he would rather die than tell them, both about the problem and the reason behind it. Fifty-five feels like the worst age to come out to your life-long best friends.

Summer is already fading, but the sun is still warm on Azriel’s skin. He tilts his face up to the sky as he walks, before he quickly remembers he doesn’t want to sustain another injury and he concentrates on the dirt road under his feet again. He grits his teeth through the strain on his leg and keeps walking.

The quickest path to Cassian’s house leads him from the treeline where his cabin is straight through the clearing past Old Man Schmidt’s property and through the woods. He’s walked this path a thousand times, but something is off today. Old Man Schmidt never has guests over, but this morning there’s a new car in his driveway. When Azriel crosses the street he realises it’s not just the new car, there’s a moving van as well, and parts of the garden are ripped open from construction, old furniture and materials, tools and workers all over the lawn. Az has always been curious, and he’s a little perturbed that he hasn’t noticed what has apparently been going on for a few days already. Has he really been that disconnected from his surroundings? He wanders off the path and up to the fence, leaning against the gate. He tells himself it looks at least a little cool but really he’s just trying to take the weight off his knee. He doesn’t recognise the licence plate on the car, and he tries to look around for Schmidt but he’s nowhere to be found. The last time they spoke he hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting to sell his house. Then again, the last time they spoke was six months ago. Maybe things have changed.

“Can I help you?” Azriel turns his head so fast it almost gives him whiplash, his carefully combed hair immediately falling into his face, obstructing his view. He was so immersed in his snooping that he hadn't noticed the man stepping up to the fence.

“Um, yeah. I’m looking for Schmidt? Boris Schmidt, he lives here,” he manages to say, buying himself a minimal amount of valuable time as he sizes the other man up. He seems to be in his late twenties or early thirties, tall and muscular with silky short hair that is so red Azriel wonders if it’s dyed. None of Feyre’s attempts to colour her hair have turned out this perfect though, so he thinks it just might be real, or done by a very, very pricey stylist. Everything about the stranger screams expensive, from his hair to his crisp white shirt and leather boots. He even smells like it, and Azriel is suddenly very aware that out of all the things he has on, only the shirt and the underwear have been washed in the last three days, and he can’t even remember the last time he put on cologne.

“Mr. Schmidt doesn’t live here anymore. Hasn’t for over a month,” the stranger explains, and his voice is deep and smooth, feels like it wraps itself around Azriel, sliding through his ears and into his brain, muddling his thoughts.

“Oh,” is all he can get out. There’s a short pause where the stranger only stares at Az with his amber eyes, waiting for him to say something more.

Then he asks “Are you the neighbour?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “Yes I am. Are you moving in?” The stranger smiles, and good Lord above he is beautiful. Azriel swallows hard around the feeling suddenly bubbling up in his chest, through his throat and spilling into his mouth. He is too old to be reacting like this over a pretty boy.

“I am. Eris Vanserra,” the stranger introduces himself, reaching his hand over the gate. Azriel shakes it.

“Azriel,” he answers, then quickly adds, “Azriel Kantor.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Azriel nearly wishes Eris would stop talking because it is incredibly hard for him to concentrate on coming up with answers when his hand is burning where the man’s skin has touched his, and this is getting ridiculous. Just because he hasn’t gotten laid in one and a half years?

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says, and means it for once. “I, uh, I live right down there. Can’t miss it.” He vaguely gestures behind himself with the burned hand, trying to shake that feeling off.

“Not like there’s many other houses around,” Eris replies smoothly, a faint smirk still on his lips, and Azriel has to pinch his arm to stop himself from staring.

“Yes. Only me. But my friends live south from here right through the forest. I’m actually going to visit them-” He trails off, and unfortunately the other man picks it up right where he left it.

“Azriel,” he says, embarrassingly breathless from forcing out that one word. Way too late he realises that maybe it was intentional, maybe Eris would prefer not calling him by his first name, and not having Azriel call him by his in turn. He’s being awfully presumptuous. But Vanserra only hesitates for a moment before giving him another smile.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you." Eris is already stepping away from the fence. "I guess I’ll see you around, Mr. Kantor.”

“Azriel,” he repeats, slowly, savouring every letter. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He lets a few seconds pass by silently where neither of them move. Then he turns and leaves him standing at the gate, glued to the spot like an idiot.

“You too,” Az calls dumbly after him, too late and too slow. Eris doesn’t look back, only lifts his hand with the smallest hint of a wave, and Azriel quickly looks away and returns to the dirt path, hands buried in the pockets of his pants.

Miles and hours later he can still hear the echo of his name from Eris’ lips in his mind when he raises his hand to ring Cassian’s doorbell.

Maybe he’ll walk back later instead of having Cassian drop him off at home after the hike. His knee doesn’t seem that bad anymore.

#modern azris au #old man azriel #has talked to eris once (1 time) and is already down horrendously bad #sjmromanceweek2023 #do not mention the picture #i needed something to mark the post #hashtag graphic design is my passion #kantor is about as close as i can get to calling azriel shadowsinger #sexy agegaps? we only know pain. physical and emotional #also rip mr goggles you will be missed

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