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atlascripts · 2 years

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Warnings: angst

the truth unveils

You had been stuck in the most agonizing time loops, one would eventually wake from their sleep paralysis but you seemed to relive the same moment every time you woke up. You tried to stay back in bed to close your eyes and not get the damn door that kept knocking incessantly but then when you'd open your eyes you found yourself lying on the floor of the hallway. With every loop though, the smallest hints of gaps filled back in your forgotten memory, like the number of people lined up dead along the hallways that never existed the first time around. And just when you thought you couldn't do it anymore, the final loop seemed to play over, this time however you chose a different path. All this time you had just stood in the hallway cowering in fear, but what would happen if you were to walk into the rainbow room right now in your dream?

The sudden curiosity and hope that that would end this nightmare had you move your feet before you could even process your decision, and you barged into that room the way one rips off the bandaid in one swoop. What you saw was a moment stuck in time and oh how it crushed your soul into a million little pieces. It all came back to you as you circled around the scene witnessing it before you, you walked around Peter's figure that held you against the wall with his abilities, you saw yourself then and the emotions came rushing back. You didn't run away or scream in terror, you only looked away closed your eyes and cried silent tears almost as if you had been suddenly mourning for a very long time. You now knew why your body was reacting so strangely all these years, it was recovering from such a traumatic incident, you also realized something wasn't right in all of this. Now that your memories were back you had full control over your senses and because of that, you could tell your reality was distorted. It was like you were trying so hard to wake up but when you did finally, from this nightmare, you were back in your little apartment on a sunny afternoon. Your shoulders drooped as you were sat by the bedside processing your emotions with a blank expression. Where does one go from here? You couldn't even navigate, because you were trapped in Peter's illusion.

'Fuck that, I really don't want to go inside, I can stand guard out.' Eddie spoke as he sized the Hawkins Lab at its full length now that they were at the gate in the upside down. The sky was darker here than in most other parts and clouds seemed to circle around it with thunder crackling.

'Do you think it rains in the upside down?' Robin had asked and just then, it actually did start raining and everyone turned to look at her as if she summoned it. Steve and Nancy lead the way with El right behind them and Eddie and Robin at the end. They were armed with guns, nailed bats and axes you name it but they really hoped El would take care of most of it. The lab really looked like a whole other dimension here, despite her history, El was having trouble finding her way around.

'Do you think we should split up and search for the gate?' Steve asked and Eddie protested immediately, 'How many horror flicks do you all need to see to realize that is a bad fucking idea, so no, we are not splitting up.' He hissed through gritted teeth completely on edge from the entire predicament. 'El can you sense anything?' Nancy asked. 'A little,' She replied and walked around the corner into another hallway with the gang following behind. A few turns, and a few dead ends later when they were bickering about which way to go next, something caught Nancy's attention. It was more so a sound she could pick up, she took a few steps away from the noise her friends were making and though the black vines had covered the whole place, she could see a few of them pulse in a certain direction. The sounds she heard were a mix of slithering and breathing, her heart plummeted a little, they never realized there could be a dormant monster sleeping here but the idea was slowly creeping her with fear. 'I see it too,' El spoke then and the others turned to see what the two girls had found. They followed the pulsing veins and El's memories started kicking in, the route to the rainbow room, she remembered it now.

The closer they went the vines seemed to change colour to a dark blue in hue, it was dark but very vivid, smaller mushroom-like flora grew from the walls followed by strange exotic flowers that looked nothing short of demonic fly traps, their edges were rimmed black with spikes like teeth and the inside was pure yellow and very viscous. There was an intense breathing sound again and they turned to notice horrifying mutated rafflesia that exhaled spores making the kids immediately cover their faces with their masks and bandanas. And amongst all this, behind membrane-like red veins, lay the door to the rainbow room.

'Listen we don't know what creepy monster is sleeping inside, do we really have to walk into the monster's den and become a free meal?' Robin panicked, but Nancy was committed, 'We have to close the gate or this nightmare will never end.' And with that said she hacked away the flimsy barrier as El decided to be the one to open the door.

Scared for what they would find, they all braced themselves holding their weapons firmly and ready to see the worst if it may be. But what they saw surprised them completely, the walls were lined with the same blue vines but they were growing more vivid in colour and around it were strange luminescent blue flowers that glowed rather beautifully, as if lighting up the darkness, The slightly greener plants there were concaved holding water that spilt into other plant leaves like a small cascade. The vines however bundled in the centre like a weird web holding onto something firmly, as if gripping for dear life, they slithered and tightened their hold, the edges of it attached to something, to someone. And just behind it, there was the wall with a thin thread-like crease that was crimson in colour, you couldn't miss it even if you wanted to. That was the final gate, the final and the first one ever created.

'Is that a person...' Eddie's voice spoke shakily and he went a little pale, a hand peeked from under the web of vines and at its wrist, the edge of the vine had sunk itself as if leeching off of it...or was it injecting it with something? When El walked up closer she covered her face in horror as tears began to stream down her face. Her vision of her little self that had watched Peter try to kill you played before her eyes, she had been tossed back in anger and had collapsed on the floor when you had come looking for the kids and Peter only for him to turn on you, her small self had cried seeing you before her eyes like that. And she cried now seeing it was you trapped in the web of vines. You had run bluish pale and looked sickly, most of your body was wrapped in them with your face barely visible because of the thick vine choking you.

'Wh-what to do we do, do we close the gate or save this person, what are we doing?" Robin asked frantically. 'No we're saving her, we all thought she moved out of Hawkins when she'd been missing all this time and no one fucking knew!' Steve hacked at the vine with his axe as it seemed to protest in a weird screech and shrivelled away. 'Right we're going to fix this.' Nancy spoke as she held El and rubbed her arms, 'It's okay El, stay with us, okay? You need to close the gate so let us do this bit.' El nodded and turned to look back at the darkened hallway it was like she could see how it looked before and now it was just another version of a monstrosity. She furrowed her brows confused though, Peter wasn't here, he should have been here and if he's not, it means he could show up any moment. 'We have to be quick, he will return soon.' El spoke as the other four kept hacking to break off the vines. 'Say what now?' Eddie asked arching a brow, El didn't explain much but she used her powers then by holding out her hand to loosen up the vines in one go.

You gasped loudly and coughed and for the first time in all these years, after that day when you were to spend the last night in your home, you opened your eyes to actual reality. Your view was bleak though, it wasn't the hospital’s piercing lights or the sun above you, nor the stars in a night sky. It was a horrific sight and you were so weak you couldn't do or say anything at all, the moment the vines were cut off from their supply chain everything seemed to go downhill.

For the longest time as they tried to untangle you from the grip of those plant life, the vines stayed dormant in their shrivelled state but none of them noticed how they slowly started coiling around you again, at your ankled and legs and your wrists piercing themselves to your bloodstream. 'Why is it not working?!' Steve shouted in frustration and within the next second the plant life turned on them, it yanked each and every one of them hoisting them to the wall in its vice-like grip. While they all were pinned, El was choking the most as the thing coiled around her neck to subdue her, she was their last resort but right now it all seemed to fail. Peter was there in the darkened hallway and he walked in both enraged and panicked and didn't heed any of them and just fell to his knees before your weakened state. None of them even knew Peter even existed until now and they surely didn't know he was the cause and reason for all that had happened to their town.

Peter had no regard but he was using up a lot of his energies to keep the illusion alive and right now with everything at risk, his powers had weakened, and his resolve wavered. It was years of hard work to have you be locked away in this strange ecosystem so he could create a false illusion in your mind, to live the perfect life you two would have wanted. All of it was gone just like that as held you in his arms trying to get you to breathe to say anything, his worst fear was manifesting before his eyes and he had never felt so powerless.

'No, no please say something.'

His voice was low enough for only you to hear but what was more strange was the tears that streamed down his face endlessly as he cradled you. Peter didn’t recall if he ever cried like this or at all, it was years of suppressed grief and hurt that had him pour his heart out like a child. Peter sobbed seeing what had become of you, what he had done to you.

'i am a monster,'

His words echoed in his head. He wanted to save you from all the falsehood of life but he hurt you the most in the process, he did more damage than good and the realization was the heaviest burden that chained him down, he was more human than ever at this moment, under the weight of his guilt of all the wrong he had done. As his hand stroked over your face feeling your faint breathing, he let go finally, not of you. He let go of everything he worked towards in all these years, and with that, the rest of the flora started drying up and dwindling to ashes. He was becoming worse than his demons, he was turning into despair itself, and his grief could be felt in the energy he gave out.

'Don't go please,'

'I am sorry, I am so sorry,'

'You're all I have and I..'

'I love you,'

That day Peter realized what truly was the woe of feeling how to be human and how he tried to become above it all initially and became the worst of it in the end. As if he hadn't been neglected and misunderstood all his life as a child but then he found love and lost it by his own doings. Where does one go from here? Who does one pray to? How does he ask for help?

The vines holding the hostages were the last to turn to husk but they too realized the gravity of the situation, they also knew the gate was yet to be closed. They looked at each other confused about what to do but El stepped forward, 'Peter, we can still save her, don't do this please.' None of them knew how much truth the statement held but they all spoke in unison trying to reason with him so as to not anger him. Peter felt your shallow breaths and knew he had to make a decision and fast, so he held you in his arms as he stood up and looked over his shoulders back at them. He had made his decision.

His soul had dried out, he’d become like the sand in the scorching desert, never resting. He had buried your existence somewhere under his smothering love that proved so brutal. He knew you were alive at this moment, he had to save you if it's the last thing he did, if it's the only selfless thing he did.

mood song: what we feel is enhanced by nowt

#jamie bower #peter ballard #henry creel #stranger things #henry creel x reader #peter ballard x reader #001 #suede jacket #mood song

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 1 year

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As my third night of this grueling nightshift comes to a close, I breathe a sigh of relief and cry tears of joy. Not because I have survived another night, though yes that is important, but because I have finished the one thing that I set out to do back before November ended. Though I am supposed to be on holiday, I knew that I would finish this, no matter the cost. There are so many things I could say, about how much you have done for me, how important you have become to me on this journey. But I know that not a single one of them would sum up the immense amount of gratitude that I truly hold for you, V. The things that I have learned from watching your love for Stephen, the strength that it has given me about my own feelings for Tony, they are the things that I am truly thankful for.

Before I met you, I would have kept my love for him silent, mourned in my darkness and never spoken out about it. I would not have sought help here to process everything that I was feeling, how I want to feel these things. And the more I watched you, the more I realized that I truly didn't have to feel bad about the love I have in my heart for him. It's okay for me to want him here, to want him to have survived so that I can still dream of him. And while there are many, many others that I extend my thanks to, you were the first one that showed me loving a fictional character is okay, no matter what people say. And for that, I gift you this, one last thing before I rest my weary soul for the winter.

Thank you, beautiful flower, for all you have done for me - myself and for Tony - on this long journey. And I look forward to seeing where we go from here. Merry Christmas, my dear.

Oh my heart💗 - in all the best of possible ways!

I am so grateful that something that comes as naturally to me as breathing touched you in such a way that you felt freed to love and mourn and heal. I suppose I didn't get that you'd tried before to tell me this; I can be dense that way at times. But I understand now and I will forever love & treasure this amazing, beautiful, shining labor of your love. Love that comes from an immense heart, and that deserves to find its expression without hesitation or concern for appearences to the wider world.

The details of the gorgeous piece take my breath away. A ring on Beauty's finger...and a baby bump as well! Stephen looking so comfy (especially in that hoodie) and relaxed, holding not only his beloved, but the future they will share. I first saw this when I was half-awake, watching the end of the PBS Tabernacle Choir Christmas special (so I was in no fit state to reply) and as I fell back to sleep, my mind's perpetual fancy had me imagining Stephen finally saying, 'Yes...yes, let's make a baby together...' What a wonderful dream that would be!

I love seeing Tony & Damon together and happy, and that you included Tony's injuries from when he sacrificed himself to save the Universe. And a ring on Tony's finger too! I suppose it won't be too much longer until Stephen & Beauty invite their friends to take on the mantle of godfathers to Baby Strange (baby girl, much to Beauty's understated longing, as it took her mother six pregnancies to get her girlchild). After the first sketch you gifted me, I never would've imagined more--so this is the sweetest surprise and I'll adore it forever. In fact, I'm going to work on a way to make it my icon (although it may mean editing it down to just S&B, but I know you won't mind).

Mere thank you's will never be enough to portray my gratitude, so I will simply say: go rest your weary mind and soul, and may your dreams be blessed with those things you long for most, for you've more than earned that joy. Come Spring, I will be looking forward to hearing and seeing the ideas & artist visions that come to you in your hiatus! You have all my love ~ V

💜💙💜💙💜

#purplefeathersandblackleather #well beyond #fanart appreciation #fanart adoration #canon x non-canon characters #Stephen Strange #Beauty Lincoln #OFC #BeautifullyStrange #Tony Stark #Damon Renner #OMC #thank you thank you my friend!#gift from the heart #Christmas #Christmas gifts #friendship and community

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thatringboy · 1 year

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Grief Anon: sorry pressed ask too soon. I mean like you have so many different characters expressing grief in so many ways. Swap!Shizu burying hers in liquor. Swap!Giyuu and Swap!Zenitsu wearing literal masks. Swap!Shinobu and Swap!Katsu taking on their siblings’ personalities to emulate the “better person”.

And the words you use to describe the grief:

Zenitsu:

[Zenitsu] sat down on the other side of Giyuu, his own mask in his lap. Nezuko noticed that the crack on the cheek was fixed with some sort of adhesive. He took a deep breath and continued his train of thought. “I had to come to terms with my loss, that she was gone and I couldn’t change that. I didn’t want to accept that. I dedicated every waking moment I had to destroying the thing that took her from me, but all I did was set expectations for myself that I would never meet. And the more I failed to meet them, the more burned out with life I became.”

Giyuu turned to look at him. “So then how did you do it? How did you pull yourself out of the cycle?”

Nezuko was curious to hear this for herself. Zenitsu glanced at both of them before he put his mask on his head, turning its face to rest against the side of his head so it didn’t cover his face. He had a tiny smile that did little to hide the anguish behind his yellow eyes. “I didn’t.”

Shizu:

Nezuko planted her feet and twisted her body to snap her arm back and scramble to her feet. “And you think you’re entitled to everyone putting up with your behavior, you’re wrong. Berating your children, belittling them, how could you do that when he’s clearly mourning?”

“And what would you know of mourning, brat?” The woman’s voice was so harsh, so defensive, that Nezuko was at a loss of words. What did she know about mourning? She wanted to get mad and scream at Shizu about her own hardships, something the woman could never understand, but Shizu’s scent finally pierced through the stench of alcohol surrounding her. It was the same scent she got from Zenitsu, it was the same scent she got from Giyuu and Makomo, it was the same scent she got from Tanjiro and even herself.

It was broken. It was empty. It was shattered into a million pieces. It was sunk down into the deepest abyss of Hell, never to rise again.

And even in the new chapter with Katsu:

Nezuko snorted and bumped his shoulder. “Nice.” Her smile quickly fell. “Wait, if that’s you, where’s your wife? Your kid?”

The scent of sorrow nearly knocked Nezuko onto the floor with how quickly it punched her in the face. Yet, Katsu’s face didn’t change once.

“They’ve passed on a while ago. My son a bit more quickly than his mother.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Katsu’s smile came back a little too fast for Nezuko’s liking as he stood up to return the photo to its original position. “There’s no need to waste sympathies on an old man like me.”

Though I’m curious about Katsu because didn’t he have two kids in canon? Do I even wanna know what’s happening there?

anyways, how are you able to get this range??

Prev ask ^^

Hi!! I’m so so so glad that you like my writing! (no comment on katsu’s family rn, y’all gotta wait for that)

Grief is a hard emotion to conceptualize and write, imo. I’ve used the words “his eyes sunk down through his nose and into his throat” to describe what it feels like, but what does that look like from the outside? What is a person’s breaking point and does their grief hit it?I’ve had a lot of time in the past year to look into this, especially since my English lit class thesis for the entire course is “What is the depravity of man? What is the price of man’s soul?” and grief often plays a large part in my research.

Below the cut, I’ll get into the writing process behind how I change and create characters surrounded by grief, using the Flowers, Sounds & Stones characters as references

When I approach writing a character grieving another character, I have to know the whole story. It’s not just “they lost someone”, but “who was that person to them? What was their relationship dynamic? How did this person affect their life?”

My mother losing a coworker I had no connection with is very sad and I mourn this person, but I’m really just mourning the loss of life. I did not know this person. On the other hand, if someone like my best friend were to die, I’d be losing someone who is a significant role in my life (i love you, julia, but you’re not allowed to die before me). My emotional response would be very very different.

The same goes for characters. If the main character of my book were to lose his husband, what would change? Would he become emotionally distant from others because his husband was his emotional crutch? Would he try to emulate his late husband’s mannerisms in an attempt to keep him alive?

And then that brings us to survivor’s guilt. Just because a character loses someone close does not mean that the story is over. In the real world, time does not stop for grief and in fiction, it doesn’t either. I have to analyze how the characters will continue living, even if they can’t move on. Is there a physical change along with an emotional one? Is it an entire mentality change?

And then as we’ll see with Katsu’s arc in Love, Mist & Demons and even in the series’ finale, how do we handle characters that aren’t mourning people, but mourning and even going as far to romanticizing (and romanticizing does not mean romance) the idea of the lost loved one. How does this affect the grieving process?

Of course, grief isn’t always about a lost person. Grief can also come from a lost way of life, a broken relationship. In his flashback, Obanai has a breakdown of grief and confusion when he realizes that he’s actually Iguro Obanai, not Iguro-Chan, and that he will no longer be able to pretend that he’s a woman (this is moreso emphasized when he gets outed and skips town as he realizes that he has no other choice but to embrace this new part of himself). Obanai loved being his father’s daughter, he loved all the dresses and makeup and being the bride-to-be who was to be swept off her feet by her childhood love, evidenced by how even after a complete social transition, he still paints his lips and fantasizes about being swept off his feet by Mitsuri. Yet being his father’s daughter is a role he can never return to. The bridge is burned and he has grieved that lost life.

So the questions you asked were “what are my secrets to writing grief” and “how am I able to get this range”. Simple answer: I think really hard all the time (sponsored by adhd and autism)

Long answer with the above context: Outlining characters is the first part of the writing process regardless of what they’re going through. Characters affect the plot and they are also shaped by it, it’s a symbiotic relationship. I’m telling a story with my characters, that needs to be laid out before I start chapter one. Do I want to tell a story of healing? The character needs to be hurt first. Do I want to tell a story of joy? The character needs to experience some sadness first. This is called growth and development, and that is crucial to all stories. The plot drives growth and that growth drives the plot. You can’t have a plot without conflict and growth, that’s just a drabble.

I can’t say that there’s a secret to writing any emotion, including grief. In actuality, all I’m doing is using characters to tell stories that all intertwine together and I’ll remind you that the Flowers, Sounds & Stones story has been going for over a year and a half, I’ve had four books and over 200,000 words to develop these intermingling stories into a single cohesive plot. There is a range of emotions because the plot calls for ups and downs. Our main characters don’t always win, they don’t always lose.

My advice to anyone who actually read all of this: Writing shouldn’t be You versus The Characters, it should be a partnership. Fictional or not, your characters are affected by their surroundings just like you and me. As your story evolves, so should your characters. Take into account how your characters interact with each other and relax, you got this. If a 226,407+ word, 4+ book series is overwhelming, start small with short stories and work with what you’re comfortable with. Take some risks when you think you’re ready and remember to have fun!

#my writing #writing advice #asks #flowers sounds & stones #love mist & demons #sun wind & ice #demon slayer fanfic #kny spoilers

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bisognamorire · 2 months

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Beloved A.,

Happy Friday!

Up here you see a few photos I took this week. I had wanted to arrange them separately but I can’t find the strength to organise this post much (sorry, its all over the place). The felted bunnies made me think of you and I wanted to get one for you but I am not supposed to. The candles are in the religious mourning room. It is located adjoined to the front hall where my reception is, so during nightshifts I go to lay down in there and try to rest a bit (theres a bench). I often get mentally unwell around 2-3 AM during my nightshifts. Everything just gangs up to torture me. The melon bread was disgusting. The highlight of my week was to go to the lake after my first nightshift and feed the ducks and swans some sunflowerseeds.

This week I tried different methods to stop myself from dissociating. And it worked most of the time. Once the numbness of dissociation fell away, though, I dissolved into tears; when I took a walk around the lake, when I sat in public transport, when I was at work, when I woke up in the morning, when I sat in the living room. I’m always in tears.

Always, Dad and you. Dad and you.

I think feeling how much it hurts me to have lost the both of you is still better than to dissociate and feel nothing.

Theres a scene in One Piece after the Wa no Kuni Arc where Momonosuke runs to the shore to bid the Strawhats Farewell as they leave the island. He sobs and begs them to stay and not leave him like a toddler. I felt like him in that scene this past week.

youtube

On Saturday, when I felt like I would get ill, I went to the city to eat chicken soup in an asian diner that I used to go to when I started uni in 2017. It usually helped me to get strong again. Unfortunately they’ve been closed for some reason for many months now. I then went to have soup at an other asian diner, it was only 2€ and the people probably thought I was homeless (I looked rather dishevelled and done with life) because they gave me a relatively large bowl and lots of vegetables.

It does wonders for your soul to eat a hearty soup when you’re feeling poorly.

On Sunday I visited Marina, Sharon’s friend (well, our childhood friend). She broke up with her boyfriend of seven years recently. We talked about a lot of topics like identity, mothers, parental emotional neglect and abandonment. She told me that she just hangs with random people because shes so lonely (she lives in another state and we can’t easily visit her) and she takes whatever company she can get so that she is distracted and that she doesn’t really like the girls she goes out to party with. That she thinks theyre rather shallow contacts. Its hard when someone doesn’t have a social network that breaks their fall and the person has to carry all of it themselves. We ended up just talking and we watched an episode of ‘Bodies’ on Netflix. Its a murder mystery show.

I started crying when I got back home from that visit. I felt so overwhelmed and exhausted and sad about everything around me and in my own life.

Other than that I’ve not done much this week other than work (when I work nightshifts and get home from work at 7 AM in the morning there’s really not much of me left to use for anything during the day) and sleep and rot in bed due to feeling terrible. Unfortunately my shift schedule continues to be awful the next days and I’m thinking about calling in sick soon. I desperately need to rest.

Someone put a nail in my bike tire (the one you rode) and I brought it upstairs from the bike cellar to my balcony to repair it. I curse the person who deliberately put a nail in it.

During my walk through the city I also went to a pakistani store and saw this! I remember you cracking up about it in F.

How was that in 2022? I seem to have no general sense of time passing the entirety of 2023. After dad died in June, I have no recollection of time passing.

This morning I saw mum for the first time in about a month? I felt unsettled by my therapist talking to me in detail about my cycle of dissociation and what harm it brings to myself and the relationships to other people around me, because I apparently perceive reality fragmented, or selective, when I am dissociated (which I am most of the time). I‘m horrified to see the mechanisms of my brain play out in these ways, that I don‘t want.

My mother asked me how I was but she hadnt in weeks (she simply started an argument and left me when I was so unwell because of things between us a few weeks ago). I couldn‘t tell her. What use has it? She can‘t handle me feeling unwell and things will only get worse, if I tell her.

Unfortunately, not telling her how I am was also a wrong decision. She started accusing me of not actually wanting to see her and why am I pulling auch a depressed face and won‘t talk to her?!

Then she defended my older brother and his ex-girlfriend (the mother of my niece) and basically said that its my niece‘s own fault that her mother treats her badly. I can‘t believe how this cycle of parental neglect and abuse continues into the next generations, just because the adults in the child‘s life are irresponsible and egoistic. And I‘m sitting there with over 10 years of therapy, because of how my mum and dad were and my mother still defends other neglectful and abusive parents’ behaviour!

I couldn‘t bear it anymore and just got up without a word, paid (was cussed out by a grandma in the process) and left.

I don’t have much things to look forward to. I ordered a weighted blanket to help my sleep without medication. I also got a package of Palo Santo incense, which makes my flat smell cosy when I take naps.

I have to go back to work tomorrow and work through until next Wednesday and I’m thinking about calling in sick on Monday.

I felt miserable looking at your blog yesterday and seeing that you wish to experience ‚it‘ again, that you post about ‚letting love in again‘ I am not sure what you meant by that but my mind makes me think you‘re wishing to fall in love again…

How many times can I feel like I am losing the same person over and over again? I’m scared to look at your blogs now. I wish I could see something and know that you miss me and that you love me forever and be content and never look it up again.

Yesterday I went to the cellar and rummaged in your box. I found a transcript of the first ‚goodbye‘ Message you sent me in January 2023. I knew it was there. In it, you don‘t avoid telling me that you love me (I felt like your message from this January avoided using the word ‚love’ and it made me anxious about the reasons). I heard your voice say the words to me then and I started crying and breaking down in the cellar, my knees just gave in.

All that rumination about me being abandoned is probably not helping my mental wellbeing. Spending hours and days composing these entries and not knowing if they ever reach you, is also playing into this.

I don‘t know what to do, I am so so sad about it all, I just feel like giving up everything and letting go of life.

My sole hope is that I feel a bit better when it gets warmer, so that I can lay in the meadow with the sun on my skin, with the treetops swaying in the wind.

I don’t have much hope other than that.

Your Sabo who loves you.

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peachesncrem-3 · 7 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

I’m looking at the muddy sky, dirty and gray, smelling clear as a crystal bell, but dull as a vocal point. I can feel its mourning dawning on me, and only for a moment I can feel my head intertwining its fingers with the fog, the clouds. Just a matter of seconds, I feel freer than the free. I look away from the sky and down at the crashing waves of the river below me, the bridge I stand on. I can feel my knees struggling to steady myself on the rail, the want to sustain myself was as prominent as the fish in the seas.

But, my desire to just let myself fall was pulling me like a fish to water, I raised my arms slightly up, horizontally, I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the sharp cutting cold air, my eyes crying from the emotional pain, of both winds, and I.

I twisted myself to face the bridge and I fell backwards, and as I’m falling, as my hair is pressured by the winds against my face, my skin, I gasped. I didn’t expect that falling would feel like this, I thought I’d feel gone, like my soul would separate from my body. But, as I was, instead of feeling like that, I could feel my soul trying to cling onto my body, trying to come back to me.

And I never felt the same again.

“Gail… Gail.”

I look up from the floor, and make eye contact with Mister Von. He had his arms gently crossed but his husky figure contracted his muscles and made the veins tighten in his hands. I looked up again. “Yes?” I say ignorantly, as if I wasn’t zoning out whilst staring at my raggedy shoes. “You got your head in the clouds, what’re you thinking about?” Mister Von asked, leaning against his copper brown desk behind him.

I slowly shook my head and cleared my throat. “Nothing- nothing. Sorry. Just…” I pause for a moment, what was I thinking about? “Just…?” He asked. I shrugged my shoulders, and looked down. “Don’t think of this as detention, because you didn’t do anything wrong. I just needed to talk to you about… Well, here.” He turned around and took a piece of paper from his desk and put it on mine. I looked down to see that it was my previous assignment from yesterday.

I looked up confused. “What?” I asked. He leaned in and pointed at the last question, he read, “If you could say one thing you desire the most in your life what would it be and why… You wrote, and I quote, May My Bones Break Brief So I Can Be Lighter Than a Leaf.” My answer sent pins and needles through my eyes and around the inside of my skull, around my brain and down my body, with hot flushes. I slowly looked up at him, “Most people would’ve said their dream career, or to be with their crush, maybe even meet a celebrity both alive and dead. I mean, most answers were what I saw, but yours was not what I was expecting it to be.” He explained, taking back the paper and placing it on his desk as it was before. I swallowed the spit that was resting in the back of my throat. “Is that something that you truly want? It’s incredible I’ll say, but… What are you meaning when you wrote that?” I didn’t know how to answer him, I thought that what I wrote down would go unnoticed, but it didn’t.

“What… What did you expect I’d write Mister Von?” I asked, and he pondered. “I thought you’d write something blunt, like for the weather to never change, to let it be always cloudy and gray like how you always address when I asked how you feel about the weather on the days that are.”

I leaned back and rested it against my chair, I looked outside through the glass windows and saw the rain that accumulated since the first cloud I saw this morning. He’s right. But… “I guess I chose the greater of two evils.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbled, I stood up and took my backpack off the floor and said, “Nothing, I just- I was thinking of something else when I wrote it, do I still get the extra credit?” I asked, and for a moment he just stood there before hesitantly nodding his head. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem.” I gently spoke before I started to walk away.

“Miss Glassstone.” I turned to his call, “You write beautifully.” I smiled slightly and gently nodded my head to gesture my thanks to him before opening his door and walking out of my English class. I stepped into the clear and empty halls, I looked left then right and turned left. I pulled out my flip phone and read that it was three seventeen pee-em. I exhaled through my mouth and headed for the girls bathroom, walking into the empty and echo-chiming room.

My shoes lightly scraped against the marble floors as I put my backpack on the counter, I leaned in closer in the mirror and pressed my fingers against the gray flesh under my hazel eyes and dragged them down to see the lower part of my eye balls. I released the pressure and my pale olive skin bounced back to its normal form again, just leaving a pink print in the shape of my fingers. My dull brown hair sticking to my humid and flushed face. I wet my lips and cleared my throat again.

I started humming creep by radiohead before taking out my ipod and actually playing it. I left my ipod on the counter next to my backpack and walked to the last stall, the song bouncing and dancing throughout the room. I lifted my sweater up a little to unbutton my low-rise jeans, I pulled them down and sat on the toilet. In all honesty, I’m a little grateful that mister von held me back just so I could pee peacefully without the disruption of other conceited girls crowding the mirror and stalls.

I stared at the bathroom floor as the song continued, I tapped my fingers against my thigh as I thought about my father’s car light being broken, I wondered if it was a hit and run, and whoever would show up at the doorstep asking for money we didn’t have. It makes me feel stupid for trying to hide bottles of liquor around the house, he’s lived there before I was born, knows the place up and down, left and right. My attempts are futile, and unethical. His roaring voice ringing in my ears from last night, intertwining with my dog’s barking behind the glass door. The bass of the electric guitar in the song dropped as I remembered him pushing me against the kitchen wall, making dishes fall from the counter. I would’ve slipped if it weren’t for his tight hold pressing me against the wall, head first.

I shake my head and rub my eyes, I take some toilet paper and wipe myself before standing back up, I flush the toilet before buttoning and zipping up my jeans. I walked out of the stall and came back to my stuff. I looked down at my ipod before hearing the door open behind me, I immediately pause the song and shove it in my pocket. I turn on the faucet and run my hands under the water paying no mind to whoever came in.

“Hey.”

I slowly looked up from my hands and at the mirror to see a girl behind me, leaning against the wall, her hair was manually curled and had copper brown hair that shined her caramel complexion, her gray eyes bored into mine. “Hey.” I said back.

“What’s that song called?” She asked me. I turned off the water and pulled paper towels out and dried off my hands. “Creep.” I answered gently. She looked up and down and asked, “Who’s it by?” Her lips curl into a coquettish smile. “Radiohead.”

She hummed and frowned her lips, sort of an upside down smile. “You got a pen?” I looked at her and hesitantly I turned around and unzipped my backpack, I felt around and pulled out a blue one. “That’ll do.” She spoke before taking it out of my grasp, I hadn’t realized she walked closer behind me when I looked for one. She began to write on her right palm, she was a lefty.

“You got detention too?” She asked while handing me back my pen. I shook my head, “Not really.” I answered, I closed it before putting it back. “Well- I do, the bitch Miss Stevens gave me it for being late to class, and what’s stupendous is that she always spends like a good 5 minutes talking about how she spent her morning, like… What’s there to miss?” She explained while she walked down to the last stall, but instead of going in she opened the window. I walked away from the mirror and counter and leaned against the wall, standing across from her.

She pulled out a pack of eagles’ cigarettes from her pocket, pulling out one with her teeth, in her left hand was her lighter. Igniting it she inhales before blowing out the smoke into the open window, the soft wind blows it away and makes her curls fall against her jaw. She kind of radiates… This citrus tone, like oranges or tangerines, sour and sweet. With her cigarette between her index and middle finger she looks at me and jerks her head, gesturing me to walk up to her.

I return her coquettish smile before leaning on the window sill in front of her. I could see the song title written on her palm before looking into her gray eyes that were now bright. She offered the ignited cigarette and I softly took it and put it between my lips. “You’re so.. Sullen, but like… coated in a meek way though.” I looked into her eyes with my own before blowing out the smoke out the window, I shrugged my shoulders. I gave her back her cigarette.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Gail.”

“...Clementine.”

I smiled, “See you some other time?” She asked, I nodded. She flicked the cigarette and closed the window. I walked back to the counters as she went into the stall. I took my backpack and left the bathroom. I stepped into the empty halls again only to run into Mister Von again. “Gail, you haven’t left yet?” He asked, we both continued walking. I shook my head.

“I was making a phone call.” I lied, he stopped, and I stopped too. He raised his right arm and looked at his watch, “Quite the phone call, you phone your dad?” I shake my head, he then reaches down and my breath hitches, I look down and he picks cigarette ash off my sweater, pins and needles overwhelm my brain again as he rubs it in his fingertips. “Not what I’d call a phone call, would I?” I wet my lips before shaking my head, “Tch, tch, tch.”

“Look, I’ll let it slide this time, but that doesn’t mean I will again, okay?” I nod my head, relief engulfs me in an awesome wave. We both continue walking. “How long have you been smoking?” He asks, “Not long.” I answer.

“Do you?” I asked, his head turned to mine. “Here and there, maybe a couple every week.” I nod my head. I would ask why I don’t ever smell it on him, but that would be weird.

“Tea.”

What? I look up from my shoes. “Tea helps dilute the scent. I smoke during my lunch break, and I drink tea after.” He looked ahead but I still looked at the left side of his face, stubble complimenting his jaw. He looked back at me. “Okay. I’ll remember that.” He slightly smiled, only one corner of his mouth curling. “Good.” We stepped outside, closing the double doors behind us. I could feel the cold and muddy air. “Do you have a scarf?” He asked, I shook my head. He pulled his own out of his bag, “Here, take this one.” He offered.

I looked down as he held his black scarf in his right hand, I took it gratefully and smiled. “Thanks, Mister Von.” I said before wrapping it around my neck. I could smell a green tea and the smell of his cologne intertwine with each-other. It feels like a part of me yearns to hug him, I could feel it pulling me forward, emotionally.

I flutter my eyes and mentally shake my head as we walk down the concrete stairs. “You can give it back to me on Friday.” I nod my head, brushing my fingers against the fabric. “No worries.”

I turned left and he kept walking straight ahead where the parking lot was, and I walked home. The wind flew against my face and rest assured my neck was covered nicely, I continued down the sidewalk and some other people did the same headed towards home too.

I turned and waited for cars to slow down, and as I did this I heard my phone go off in my pocket, I reached in and took it out, opening it I read, Dad. I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey- hey, don’t worry about the dishes, they’re clean. I cleaned up the kitchen too, nice eh? Look, I won’t be here tonight but I’m leaving 10 dollars on the counter so you can get some dinner while I’m out.”

I hear his rugged voice explain, although I was relieved about the kitchen, I didn’t just simply forget about the night before. “Okay.”

I hang up the phone and put it back in my pocket. By now the cars had stopped and I stepped onto the street and walked across to get to my house. I can already see my father’s car gone. Relief washes over me like a tsunami against California. I can be by myself for the rest of the day and even have my dog inside of the house. I can already see him trying to run to me but his leash prevents him from doing so. “Roger!” I call him, my walking speeds up.

The doberman boy jumps on two feet, I feel around his neck and unclip him from the leash, immediately he whines in contentment and licks my face. I laugh and scruff the top of his head and give him a long kiss on it. I sit on my knees and he sniffs around my neck, a new scent mixing with mine. “Curious are you?” I ask playfully, he licks my forehead, the cut that I had from the previous night.

I wince a little but I pet his head in remorse, last night was probably crazy for him as well, I still can remember the panic in his bark. He wines again. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay…” I mumble, not only trying to convince him but myself as well.

I stand back up and lead him back inside. I turn on the living room light and he jumps on the couch. I continue walking down and into the kitchen, putting my backpack on the table. I see the 10 dollars on the counter, but also with a 5. Tip money I guess. I take my phone out of my pocket and place it next to the money and yawn, I open the fridge and just stare at some old condiments and beer. I close the fridge door and turn around and walk out of the kitchen.

I turn and start walking up the stairs to my room. I’m thinking about sleeping through the day, I’ve just been so tired and I couldn’t sleep after that scene between me and my father. I could hear Roger follow soon after, I smile gratefully and walk into my room. He immediately jumps into my bed and I follow him soon after, kicking off my shoes I face-plant my pillow. I roll onto my back as Roger rests his head on my stomach.

I rested my palm on his head, “I’m so tired Roger.” His ear twitches hearing my voice. I stare at my dull gray ceiling, and take a deep breath in and exhale. As I turn my head I feel something scratchy against my neck, I furrow my eyes in uncomfortable confusion and start taking off Mister Von’s scarf, flipping it over I see a tag that had not only his full name, but his address as well. Callan Von, 122 Baroque Street. This scarf could be of importance to him if he left his address on it.

I scrunch it in my hands and turn on my left side, smelling in his scent, men’s cologne and green tea. Rodger adjusts his head to rest it on my calf. The cologne reminds me of my father, but the green tea reminds me of him, the weird mixture engulfs my brain with weird emotions, such as fervor and yearning for something fraternal . I exhale the scent I inhaled and close my eyes.

I jumped to the sound of Roger’s bark, I opened my eyes seeing colorful dots in my vision and realized how dark it got. I repeatedly blink my eyes in a fast manner before turning around and look out the window to see that it got extremely dark out. I rub my eyes while hearing the sound of Roger’s wine as he scratches my bedroom door. I hadn’t known I even closed it. I try to stand up but I stumble in my steps and just collide into the door, wincing I just twist the door knob and open it.

In a haze I flip the light switch and look down to see that Mister Von’s scarf had twisted itself around my ankle. I bend down and unravel it, I drop it on my vanity. I enter the dim hallways and Roger just walks down the stairs faster than me. I exhale through my mouth and yawn.

I’m not sleeping tonight.

I continue walking down the stairs and through the window of the front door I see that my father still hasn’t returned, I turn to enter the kitchen. I could still see the money, and where I left my phone. I take it and open it and see that it was… Five Ae-Em. Jesus!

I can’t believe I slept that long, I turn to see Roger eating out of his bowl and I turn to the money that was put on the counter. It’s too late to eat dinner, that I know. Still, I take it anyway, and with my phone, I go back into the living room and fall onto the couch. I open my phone and see only one missed call from my father. I press the call button and bring it up to my right ear. I hear the vague ringing going on and on, until it’s picked up by the anonymous woman recorded.

“At the tone, please record your message.”

Instead I just close it and toss it on the table in front of me. I sigh and rub my face, not sure why I even tried. It’s like my father and I are everywhere all at once, but he’s not in the same place that I am at the time he is. It is as confusing as it looks and sounds like. I put my head in my palms and inhale, and shakily exhale as the knot in my throat tightens, I can feel my eyes sting and reddened and my hands shake as the emptiness makes the quiet louder around me.

I swallow the knot in my throat and open my eyes, lifting my head. I see Roger walk into the living room, I look at him and he looks at me. “Who have I wronged for people to hurt me this badly?” I whisper.

I spent that morning on the shower floor, under the hot water bathing in it until it turned cold by the hour, staring at the white, at my pale feet. Hugging myself and resting my chin on my knees, hearing again and again Roger scratching my door. Then, I just got ready for school. That’s all of my mornings. Every night. Every day. Every moment I live my life is either quiet, or loud.

“C’mon Roger.” I call as I open the front door, he follows as I walk out. He walks onto the front lawn and lays down where the flowers are, he’s laid there so many times there’s an indent into the grass in his shape. I step onto the sidewalk and turn left.

I wrap Mister Von’s scarf around my neck as I pass down the many houses on my street. I can see families helping each other put up fake spider webs and blow up serial killers, and hanging skeletons by the neck over their rooftop. I’d get excited for Halloween too if I had money. Or if I was a little girl again.

As I continue walking I start to hear my phone vibrate, as I stop to go through my bag to answer whoever’s calling me I fall to the ground with a strong push, slamming my knees onto the concrete along with my palms, my phone falls out of my bag. With a quiet wince I look up to see whoever the fuck just pushed me. “What the hell!” I exclaim.

The man just kept walking as if pushing me to the ground was as sinless as telling a white lie. I looked back down and picked up my phone only for the vibration to end. It was my father who tried calling back. I sighed and rubbed my palms against my pants to get rid of the scrapes. I stand back up and put my phone into my pocket.

As I look ahead I could see the man that pushed me down wrapping something around his neck which reminds me to touch my own until I realize that nothing was around it. The bastard took my scarf.

“Hey!” I cry as I speed up, he doesn’t turn his head and keeps walking until I come into his view. “That’s my scarf.” I tell the rugged man. “Not anymore it isn’t.” He simply says. “What the hell is your problem?” He stops mid-walk and looks down at me. “It’s mine now.” What the hell? I didn’t know what else to say but I reached into my pocket and took out 10 dollars from what my father gave me last night. “Buy yourself a scarf and give mine back please.” I offer, my left arm raised to hand him the money I’m hoping he’ll take. I really don’t want to explain to Mister Von that I let some stranger take it off me.

“It’ll cost more for a good one.” I scoff and reach to just pull it off of him in desperation but to his avail he pushes me again, I land on my back with a cry as I reach under it feeling that I landed on broken cement. He continues walking, focusing on the pain on my back. I won't try to protest again. I look around and realize that no one was even here to witness my situation with this stranger. I looked around on the ground and realized that not only did he take my scarf, but even took the money out of my hand.

“Damn it!” I exclaim and rest my face in both my palms. The pain on my back subsided only leaving the throbbing. If I didn’t try to take it back I would’ve still had the money for food today. How am I going to explain to Mister Von that his scarf got stolen, and to my dad about the money I didn’t even spend.

I spent the rest of that walk to school burdening myself with self-shame, I should’ve just left it alone. I mean, what was I, of all people, going to do? Ask for it back? When that man went through the trouble of pushing me down twice for it. And even got money out of it. I follow the crowd into school, merging in with the others and going through them to find my locker.

I walk up the stairs to the second floor and turn left, right at my locker. Approaching it I take my bag off shoulders slowly, quietly wincing as I could feel twinges shoot up my back. I open my locker and open my bag to take out whatever books I shoved in there yesterday and just put them in it instead. Leaving out Algebra, and my algebra journal. “Well hello, Gail.” I looked up to my left to see it was Clementine again.

I smile a little. “Hey, Clementine.”

She walks up to me with a grin. “Wish I was carrying a math textbook right now, I have gym first period, totally blows my every Wednesday too. I don’t like math, but I'm good at it.” She said, leaning against the locker. “I don’t like it very much either, but I’m not that good at it.” I admit, closing my locker. She shrugs her shoulders. “Math like that isn’t going to matter to you in about 5 years, unless you want to be a mathematician or something like that.” I look into those warm eyes of hers and jokingly scoff.

Then I look back up and I feel that with this warm feeling I get whenever she’s around that I could trust her with miniscule things, for now. “Can I show you something? I just need to ask you for a favor.” Her smile subtly calms down and nods. “Sure, what is it?” I cock my head to the left where the bathroom is headed and we walk into it. Although a group of girls were crowding the mirror I led her to the last stall, with some odd looks.

But, it’s a common thing, it wasn’t something I was worried about. She shuts the door behind her and I put my books down on the floor. God forbid I put it on the toilet seat. I look into her eyes before opening my mouth to speak, but she says “Are you okay Gail?” She asks, tilting her head to the right.

I nod my head, “I just need you to look at my back, I… Fell while walking to school.” I explain while turning around. She slowly puts her fingers under my cotton white shirt and lifts it up, she reacts with her teeth and I could feel her face scrunch. “That was a pretty hard fall Gail, it’s pretty bad.” My back twitches in pain as I feel her fingers touch the wound. “Sorry, sorry.”

“What does it look like?” I ask. “It’s a big red scrap, it might even just bruise.” I shake my head and roll my shirt back down and turn around. “I’ll clean it when I get back home, thanks for helping me out.”

“What happened?” She asks, leaning against the door. “I was… I was getting ready, and I slipped on my shoelace, and fell on the cement steps in front of my house.” I explained. Shaking her head she says, “Well, you’re not going to reach very well back there, why don’t you come to my house and I’ll help you clean it up properly?” She offers. “Yes, please.” I answer fast, I hope that it didn’t seem desperate, or too quick. It’s been so long since I’ve… Not been in a dark and quiet home. “Give me your hand.” I tell her, I reach into my pocket for a pen. She gives me her right hand, and I could see a very faint word from yesterday.

I wrote my phone number.

She smiles, we look into each other’s eyes, pausing for a few seconds, although it felt like many, it was only 3 before the bell rang and made us jump. She turns around and opens the stall door while I pick my books up off the floor and we walk out and follow the small crowd of girls exiting the bathroom.

During lunch I spent whatever money I had left on a sandwich and a cookie from a vending machine, in 11th grade there are only 17 students, and most go out to eat, so like everyday I spent my lunch below a large window that faces the dull gray sky, every now and then you see leaves fly by. I put my bag down below my stool and put my food in front of me. I took out my phone to see if I could text my father.

I text, Will you be home soon?

Closing my phone I set it aside before unwrapping my sandwich, resting my chin on my left palm I take a bite watching everyone else sit at their tables, hearing the clasps and collisions of their trays hitting against the tables every now and then, even the banging of the edge of their trays against the plastic of a garbage can.

I look back down and pick up my phone, seeing he texted back. I open my phone and read, Not tonight, kiddo. Maybe tomorrow.

Where does he go these days? I hate being alone, my home just feels like this hard thick knot in my throat that I have to swallow to keep these tears at bay, like this makeshift gauge. I can feel my eyes sting a little, so I began to text him. When will you be back?

“Hey.” I look up from my phone to see a tall, lean and pale boy, his hair dyed a jet black and his nails painted the same color, he carried a tray with his right hand while he carries this ragged old bag on his left arm. “Hello.” I say.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” I shake my head. Sitting down he adds, “It’s the emptiest table.” I nod my head swallowing my bite. “You’re right, are you new?” I asked, he looked up from his tray and shook his head, his black hair covered his cornflower blue eyes. “It’s just, I wanted to switch classes, I’m in 12th grade, but 11th grade has the only creative writing class so I transferred to that one.”

“Mister Von’s class?” I asked. He nods his head. “Well, I have that class at the end of the day.”

“Me too.” I smiled a little, “Do you- do you like to write?” I asked. He nods his head. “What’s your name?” He asked me. “I’m Gail.”

“Like the nightingale?”

I shake my head, “No, it’s with an I.” I explained. “Oh, well my name is Ravin.”

“Ravin?... Like the Raven?” He exhales a small laugh and shakes his head, “No… It’s with an I.” I smile, and he smiles too. I look under the table to count all the rips in his jeans, and sit back up and say, “A bit cold isn’t it?” He tilts his head to the right with a little smirk. “Nothing I can’t handle, Gail.” I imagine a butterfly appearing in my stomach, like warping itself out from its original state of its cocoon and flying around, exploring.

We parted ways for our own classes. I didn’t see Clementine for the rest of that day, and I spent my last class with Mister Von in the shadows, although Ravin was late, I’d occasionally exchange looks from him from time to time. I was nervous about how Mister Von would react to his scarf being missing, I should have been more careful with it, and because I was feeling this way I didn’t make eye contact with him. Instead, I just spent my time looking at the pattern of the wood on my desk, making weird and odd faces and shapes. And when he’d pass papers, I could feel him spend an extra second on putting the paper on my desk than everyone else's. I know he wanted me to look at him, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

The bell rings and it pulls my head from the clouds, I lift up my pen and realize that all I was doing was creating an ink stand in the middle of my sentence. I sighed and folded the piece of paper and put it in my bag, hanging it on my shoulder. I hear, “C’mon Gail.” I look up to see Ravin gesturing for me to come out of the hallway. I begin to walk out until I hear, “Gail, can I talk to you?” I stop in my tracks. I slowly turn around and nod, looking back at Ravin he nods and starts walking. I turn back to Mister Von. “Yes?”

“Let’s talk.” He simply replies, curling his fingers up and down. I walk up to his desk. “What’s goin’ on? You had your head down this whole class.” I shrug my shoulders. “You wanna talk bout’ anything bothering you?” His voice makes my skin bumpy and my heart skip. I look up as he slicks back the black curls from his face. Just looking into his dark brown eyes makes me just spill out like a cup of spilled milk. “I- I lost your scarf, Mister Von.”

He leans in from his laid back position. “What happened?” He asked me. “This man, this morning he pushed me down and just took it off me, I tried to bribe him with some money but he took that too.”

“Are you alright, Gail? Are you hurt?” I shake my head, “Not really, but your scarf, it’s gone.” He huffs, “Oh, Gail. I hope you know that I’m not mad at you, or upset. It’s just a scarf, I’ll get a new one, I’ll get you a new one too.”

I look up from his desk and into his eyes again, he smiles and nods, telling me he means it. I smiled, “Really?”

“Really. That wasn’t in your control, it wasn’t your fault.” He explains, standing up, he walks around his desk and in front of me. “If something happens like that again, don’t hold it against yourself, just talk to me about it, alright?” I nod my head, “Good.”

Although I felt this odd urge to hug him, I kept myself at bay, because that itself would be odd. But, he pulls me into one instead. Although it felt nice to have his arms around me, it was short lived when I winced, making him stop. “Are you alright?”

I quickly nod my head. “Sorry- sorry, I just have a… scrape on my back.” I told him. “Oh, I see.”

In the distance, at the doorway I see Ravin. I start walking away before saying, “Bye, Mister Von.”

“Bye, Miss Glassstone.”

I walk with Ravin down the now empty halls, “I waited because I thought I’d ask for your number.” He tells me. We slow down and I stop. “Sure.” I mumble, I reach down and take his left palm into my own, taking a pen from my pocket, he looks down at me as I write my number on his head. “There.” I say before closing the pen, I look up and he smiles. “Cool, thanks Gail. I’ll call you when you get home?”

“Well, I might not be home after this but you could call me around 7?” and he nods. “Sure, I won’t forget.”

Ravin went his way to where he lives, and I went towards mine, although I did get a call from Clementine when I saw my house in the distance. “Hey, Gail. You’re still coming right?”

“Yea, yeah sure.”

“I can pick you up, what’s your address?”

I cleared my throat and hesitated, I didn’t want her to see where I lived, what my home looked like. I didn’t know what else to tell her either. “Uhm, you know what, I’ll just meet you at this stop, it’s…”

I looked up at the sign in front of me. “Bere Street.”

“Okay, I’m getting in my car now, I’ll be there in like… 5.”

I close my phone and turn to see a bench. I walk up to it and sit down, leaning my back against it. Before putting my phone in my pocket I felt my phone vibrate, I opened it back up to see my father finally replied to me. I read, Whenever I want to.

I shake my head, I reply, I need money for food.

I close my phone and put it in my pocket. I look up and to my right I see a car slow down in front of me, it was a small pink one. I can see Clementine roll down her window, and she exclaims, “What’s a girl like you doing all by herself?” I scoff and start walking around the car and open the door, sitting down in the passenger seat. “Just waiting for her white knight.” I answer sarcastically. She laughs while I close the door. “It might just be your lucky day.”

She starts driving again. Her car smells like somewhat of a beachy side glass of lemonade, it smells good. Very neat, classy. Her steering wheel is customized with this pink cheetah pattern. “My house isn’t far from here, I use this street as a shortcut actually.” She explains before turning right. “Me too.”

“I have a first aid kit in my bathroom sink, I don’t use it often, well, I don’t get injured often.”

“Well…” I begin to say, I thought I’d just say I don’t get myself injured too often either, but as I remember what my father did the other night, and what that stranger did to my back, I kind of caught myself. “Nevermind.” I said instead. I feel my phone vibrate and I take it out of my pocket so I can read my father’s reply. Figure something out, I read. I just stare at my phone, not knowing what to say to that, how to even react, am I surprised? No. No, I’m not. I could feel this hunger in my stomach churn itself into nausea.

“Everything alright?” I look up to Clemintine who looks at me for a second before looking back at the road. I nod my head, “Yeah, yeah.” I shake my head before closing my phone. I pull my back off the floor and put my phone in one of the pockets. The car slows down and I look at her home in front of us. It was really nice, a nice suburban home, she had a garage too, and the bushes in front of her porch were trimmed regularly. “It’s really beautiful.” I comment. “My mom’s a lawyer, and my dad’s a welder.” We step out of her car, “They’re not here, during the weekdays they work until 9.” She explains as we walk up the steps to her door. “Do you miss them?” She shakes her head before taking a key from under the doormat. “On the weekends they make up for it I guess, I mean, I like being alone, lot’s of freedom.”

She opens the door and I follow her in. It was spacious and her interior was painted with this pale blue that brought light to her wooden floors, her living room was carpeted too. It was really nice, leather couches and everything. “Just follow me into the upstairs bathroom.”

I put my bag down on the ottoman next to the front door and followed her up the stairs. The stairs don’t creek. We walked into this bright hallway, it was spacious too. We passed many doors until we walked into her bedroom. “I didn’t have a chance to make my bed this morning, I was late because I forgot to replace the batteries in my stupid alarm.” She explains, I shake my head. “No worries, it’s okay.” I reassure her. I mean, she had this queen size bed with two nightstands beside it, her laptop on her own desk and a closet with two doors. Her walls were painted a subtle pink shade that complimented the blue carpet under her bed.

It was really pretty. An unmade bed was the last thing I noticed. “Here, take off your shirt.” She suggests while walking out of her bathroom with a bottle of peroxide, ointment and a big bandaid. “Thanks for helping me out.” I say before taking off my shirt. I sit on her bed while she sits behind me. “Like I said, your white night to the rescue.” She jokes. I giggle.

She moved my hair to the right and I could feel her finger tips against the large scrap, it was cool. They move to the opposite side of my back, and I turn my head a little. “You know, you have a bruise right here… and here.” I closed my eyes, it was really nice having someone gently rub their fingers against your skin. Especially if you don’t get it often, it deprives you. “I uhm, I tripped over my dog, Roger. It was a couple days ago, really.”

“Ahh, okay. Roger did a number on you.” I nod my head, I could hear a bottle shake a little before she pressed a damp cloth against the scrape, I cried out feeling it sting. “Oh shit, sorry. It’s- you know, cleaning it.” I shake my head. “It’s okay, it’s fine. Just, maybe a warning.” I suggest, I feel her nod. “Yeah, yeah okay.”

I felt another cold sensation on my back but it didn’t sting this time, my guess was the ointment. “You eat, right?”

“What?”

“I dunno, I mean, you’re really skinny. Which isn’t a bad thing or anything, I mean, you bruise easily and-”

“Yeah, I- I eat… I guess.”

“Well, we could order pizza or something after this.”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

Eventually she finished, she put a large bandaid on my back and I took my shirt off my lap until I saw that a few holes had torn through the fabric. “Shit.” I mumble. “What happened?” “Look.” I pass my shirt to her and turn around, sitting back down so I could face her. She laughs. “Well, well. I could lend you one of mine, what size are you?” She asks before standing up and walking to her closet. “Uhhh…” I look on the back of the shirt. “Medium.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, “Yeah right- here.” She tosses a light brown shirt with some gems on it. “It’ll look cute on you.”

I put it on as I can kind of feel it cling to my waist, “It’s supposed to crop above the pant line to show your low rise jeans. Show your figure.” She explained it to me. “Thanks, Clem.” I say while shoving my old shirt into my bag.

#the blue birds #chapter one #psychological #teen #teen fiction #2000s #novel #teen drama #dull core

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rat-preserves · 1 year

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thinking about grief, and the politics of grieving someone who is a "bad" person. I'm thinking local town bad, the person who might have a drug addiction who is abusive to their family, or even a violent "offender" whose in and out of prison or something like that.

there have been quite a few tragic deaths of tragic people in my family, and in the families of other people I'm close to. and one thing I've noticed is how complicated it is to grieve someone society has labelled ungrievable.

before they can grieve, if they are permitted to grieve at all, families of these people have to either be in complete denial of what the person was actually like, or be secretive, ashamed, perhaps even denying themselves the privilege of mourning someone society believes is subhuman. grieving is too human, and grieving a bad person gives them too much humanity for society to permit it without protest. how can we punish bad people, drive them to suicide by putting them in jail and destroying all their life prospects, if we were to give them a touch of humanity?

so we either have to think the bad person was actually an angel the whole time, they always brought a smile to people's faces, always lit up the room, etc - dress their life story with the stolen valor of a "good" person, stunting the grieving process by failing to mourn the whole person as they were - or deem them a life that is ungrievable, conducting mourning in private so that society won't shame you for mourning someone who is not human.

I hate this. bad people are still allowed to be grieved. it's rather concerning that the story of the person needs to be completely sterilised before you're allowed to grieve them and miss them and even want them back in your life. either that, or the grieving is completely hidden. the funeral is behind closed doors, you can't talk about your feelings with anyone or else people will say they deserved to die so you can't feel sad

I feel bad that he is gone. I feel bad that his life eventually became so terrible he had to kill himself in prison. I'm angry that the prison refused to put him on suicide watch when they were told by one of his friends ON THE DAY HE WAS SENTENCED TO FIVE YEARS IN PRISON that he was going to kill himself. I feel bad that he was maligned by society and people wanted him dead for his nuisance behaviour before he even turned 18. I feel bad that the same people who commented on every single Facebook post about his crimes saying he was a disgusting piece of shit who didn't deserve to live were the same people who said that the prison needs to work on its mental health services, sorry for the loss etc on the post about his death. I feel bad that my step-dad is grieving so, and I feel terrible for the three children he left behind and never got to build meaningful relationships with. It pains my soul that his funeral is basically being held behind closed doors, because his family is so ashamed of him. They're not announcing the funeral. His friends and girlfriends are not welcome

my step-brother was not a good person. he abused his girlfriends, even sending one of them a picture of a gun saying he was going to shoot her, did violent drug-related crimes, threatened to come up to my house and kill my step-dad, stabbed someone with a craft knife, and the list goes on. I recognise that the trajectory his life took was not entirely his fault, because he was abused by my step-dad, and sent to jail when he was 18 for a petty crime, and upon his first release he could not adjust to real life so spent the rest of his life in and out of prison. who he became was still a bad person, but he was ultimately let down by our government who put extremely young offenders with bad home lives and mental health problems in jail when they could instead be shown compassion.

But I also understand that he was not a good person. I didn't like him although I cared about him. But this understanding is a meaningful part of coming to terms with my grief and recognising it for what it is: complicated. If I tried to pretend that he was always an angel, I would be living a lie, and I would never be able to complete the grieving process. I tried it with my uncle - who was never violent except for a few fights but was often abusive to me in my childhood due to his addiction and took advantage of my mum time and time again - and I'm still processing my grief for him.

#grief #poorly articulated politics of mourning

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wandaromanova · 3 years

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Lost

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death, cussing

A/N: hello! i’d like to put a disclaimer that i am not in any way knowledgeable of the medical field and all of the terminology and information used in this fic was found through research! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiiiii !! can i request like an angst into fluff natxfem!reader one shot where the reader has a really bad day and takes it out on nat and hurts her feelings and so they go to bed angry. but the reader realizes their mistake and the next morning just wakes her up by showering her with love and then takes the whole day to do cute little date things with her? like making her favorite meal or like dancing in the kitchen to their favorite song late at night or just super fluffy things? if not, that’s okay!! have a good day <3

Summary: The heavy weight of her profession gets to Y/N and she takes her anger out on her loving girlfriend; Natasha Romanoff.

Word Count: 3K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Becoming a doctor was no easy feat.

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Once high school is completed, one must receive your bachelor’s degree before taking the MCAT exam and applying to medical school. After four years of medical school, you must endure a year as an intern before being promoted to a resident.

Depending on what specialty one has selected, residency can span from three to seven years. Fellowships follow after but are typically an optional course that provides extra training.

Yes, there are a lot of necessary steps to take in order to set foot into the medical world, but somehow, the years of foreplay could never compare to being a full-fledged physician; and you knew this all too well.

You are a pediatric oncologist and your job was to diagnose and provide treatment to children and teenagers who had cancer. You specialized in hematology; the treatment of blood disorders.

You were the head of pediatric oncology in a Manhattan hospital. You dealt with a lot of patients, but a two-year-old little girl named Sarah was secretly your favorite.

Despite being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, Sarah’s positivity and playful personality never faltered.

Even if she didn’t understand the circumstances because of her young age, you knew she was suffering. Regardless of it all, every session you had with her was endearing.

You met with the child once a week to administer chemotherapy. Her enthusiasm never failed to have you awestruck. Most of your patients were exhausted from the treatments, but not Sarah.

She was a hyper child who would attempt to sing Frozen songs, performing as you tried to fight a smile from taking over your features. She had a stuffed Olaf doll that she brought with her to every visit and it was heartwarming to see her hug the doll close to her chest.

Sarah would even bring you drawings every week that you would keep in your locker. You’d admire each and every one of the drawings, even if you couldn’t really tell what they were.

You’d grown fond of the little girl in the past two months you had been treating her. You were also relatively close to her parents, who were probably the kindest people you’ve ever encountered. It made sense that Sarah was the ball of sunshine she was, she obviously got it from her parents.

Most times, parents were on edge and extremely short-tempered. If parents saw you often, that meant that their child was diagnosed with some form of cancer. Understandably, they would be rather hostile whilst interacting with you, but you never took their behavior personally.

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If you were in their shoes, you were positive that you wouldn’t be very friendly either.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had grown fond of the beaming child. You were aware that growing emotionally attached to patients was unprofessional, but how could you not?

You adored children and for that very reason, you had chosen a specialty that allowed you to help kids as much as medicine would allow. You always had a soft spot for kids and you found joy in helping them as best as you possibly could.

Sarah had a very good chance at pulling through. With consistent treatment and her young age, her survival rate was around 68%. Those were considerably good odds in these circumstances. Not to mention, the chemotherapy seemed to be paying off. At the rate she was improving, she was predicted to be out of the woods soon enough.

However, the child had developed a bacterial infection. Since she had been receiving chemotherapy, the treatment had damaged her white blood cells which are responsible for fighting off infections.

All you could do was provide antibiotics to try and fight off the infection. You had monitored her for some time in hopes of seeing any sign of improvement, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Her immune system was extremely vulnerable and there wasn’t any way to reverse the damage.

Your heart was torn to pieces when you delivered the news to her parents. They broke down in the hallway outside of Sarah’s room as you informed them of Sarah’s rapidly shortened life expectancy. It was only a matter of time before the young child would pass and honestly, this was what you hated most about your job.

You hated that you couldn’t help every single patient. You hated how cruel the world could be to take away an innocent child from their loving parents.

You allowed her parents to spend time by her bedside. They laid on either side of her bed, clinging onto her for dear life. What broke you the most was the paleness of Sarah’s once glowing skin. Her smile was still present but didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to.

Her parents quietly sang ‘Love Is An Open Door’ to Sarah. You felt your heart clench in a bittersweet way as you silently watched. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t hesitate to join in, but her lack of breath prevented her from doing so. All she could do was close her eyes and lightly nod her head along to their voices.

Sarah passed hours later and it was an extremely somber experience. Hearing the cries of parents who lost their children wasn’t easy and it never would be. Your job had its pros and cons, and this was the biggest negative.

You fought back your own tears as you exited the room, giving the two mourning parents some privacy after you recorded Sarah’s time of death. You found the nearest restroom and allowed the tears to fall down your face.

A pure soul had been ripped away from the world, never having the chance to experience the great things life had to offer.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 Hours Later

You trudged into your loft, immediately taking off your coat and hanging it up before tossing your keys on the small table by the front door.

Your girlfriend, Natasha, had heard your arrival and quickly exited the bedroom to greet you, a wide smile on her face. However, her smile fell when she noticed your defeated state.

Your shoulders were slumped as you slouched slightly and your eyes were dripping with sadness.

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Natasha approached you while you stood frozen in front of the door. Her hands came up to cup your cheeks as she stared at you in concern, her eyes scanning over your features.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I lost Sarah.”

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Natasha’s eyes widened and her heart sunk at your words. She was aware of how much you adored the two-year-old. Once a week, you would rave about the child and how adorable she was at the dinner table. You would go on and on about how Sarah would sing to you, draw pictures for you, and bring along stickers to place onto your coat.

The redhead loved how happy you looked whenever you spoke about any of your patients, but most especially Sarah. It brought Natasha some joy of her own to see you speak animatedly about Sarah; your happiness was her happiness.

So, the news hurt her almost as much as it hurt her. She knew how much you loved Sarah, despite never saying it straight out.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I know how much you cared about her. Are you okay?” Natasha’s voice was oozing with sympathy. You couldn’t help but feel irritated by her question.

You tore her hands off of your cheeks and walked past her and into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water as the redhead watched you intently.

“Am I okay? I’m fine! It’s not like I lost an extremely young patient today or anything. What kind of stupid fucking question is that, Natasha?” You took a sip of cold water to try and calm yourself damn, but your attempt was futile.

The redhead made her way into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as you took another sip of water, eyes burning a hole into her head over the rim of the glass.

“I know, that was a dumb question. I just want to help you, Y/N/N.” Natasha remained calm and patient as she spoke to you. She was no stranger to the loss of a person she desperately tried to save and knew all too well the sadness and anger that accompanied the tragedy. She was an Avenger, after all.

“I don’t want your help and I don’t need you!” You slammed your cup onto the counter as you raised your voice. Honestly, it was surprising that you hadn’t shattered the glass with the amount of force you exerted.

Natasha felt an ache in her chest as you yelled at her. She knew that you weren’t in the right state of mind and didn’t take it personally, but that didn’t make your words hurt any less.

“You save entire cities and I can’t even save a single fucking person!” You were turning red at this point, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The redhead hated seeing you cry, but she knew better than to approach you at this moment.

“Babe, you save so many pe-” Natasha’s tried to speak, but you quickly interjected.

“If you’re going to try and spew some philosophical bullshit to me right now, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear another god damn word from your mouth.”

The redhead looked down defeatedly. She had never seen you so upset, let alone direct your frustrations towards her. Her eyes fell down to the marble counter between you both before looking up at you. You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath.

Without another word, Natasha retreated back to the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. You watched her until she was out of your view and let out a sigh. Your hands gripped the edges of the kitchen island, supporting your weight as you shut your eyes.

You brought a hand up to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose. After a few minutes, you made your way into the living room, chucking off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch. You didn’t feel like interacting with Natasha anymore tonight, knowing that you most likely wouldn’t be able to control your temper.

You were just so fed up with the painful losses you had to endure from your profession.

You knew that being a doctor was more dark clouds and thunder, than sunshine and rainbows, but you just wished that for once, the weather forecast would work in your favor.

The emotional day had finally caught up to you. Your body relaxed as you sunk further into the couch, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to a much-needed slumber.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha was still awake. She laid flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling in thought. She was mad at you, as much as she didn’t want to be. Natasha had gone through the same thing and never lost her cool with you as you had with her.

The redhead calmed down slowly, turning on her side and facing the empty space beside her which you normally occupied. She reached one arm out, her skin colliding with cool sheets, already missing the warmth of your body.

Natasha hated sleeping without you by her side, She didn’t feel complete when you weren’t steadily sleeping next to her, your arms wrapped around her body. However, she hoped that things would improve in the morning.

And with that thought in mind, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, clutching the sheets firmly in her hand.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The Next Morning

You awoke to a blinding light, the morning sun shining through the windows and landing directly onto your face. You let out a groan and slowly sat up, stretching out your limbs with a groan. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, you were aching everywhere.

You sat there for a moment as the events of the day before caught up to you. Not only had you lost Sarah, but you upset Natasha. You immediately felt guilty as you recalled the harsh words you spat at her in a fit of rage. You felt like a complete asshole, and rightfully so.

You quickly stood up and entered the kitchen, retrieving some bacon from the freezer and eggs from the refrigerator. You grabbed two separate pans and washed your hands, making sure to get the coffee pot running before you began cooking.

Your girlfriend absolutely loved bacon, eggs, and coffee. She described the combinations as a ‘party in her mouth.’ So, this was going to be an ‘i’m sorry for being a bitch last night’ apology breakfast.

You got started on the meal and by the time you finished up and had the stove off, Natasha stalked out of the bedroom slowly. She eyed you carefully as she approached, you sent a soft smile her way.

“You made breakfast,” Natasha spoke and you shyly nodded your head. You moved away from the stove and rounded the counter. The redhead stood in her spot as you wrapped your arms around her waist, her arms reflexively going around your neck.

“I was an asshole last night.” You stated and your girlfriend nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, you were a total pain in the ass, the absolute worst.” You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s teasing tone.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. I was just so upset about… Sarah. I didn’t mean to take it out on you and I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I feel for yelling at you when all you wanted to do was help me.”

Your voice was full of emotion, your eyes boring into her emerald irises as you poured your heart into every syllable you uttered. Natasha smile gently at you, her fingers lightly tugging on the baby hairs on the nape of your neck.

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t mad at me.” You let out a sigh of relief as the redhead stared at you softly. She let out a small chuckle at your dramatics before continuing.

‘I understand how you feel. The team and I, we try our very best to save as many civilians as we can, but sometimes it’s completely out of our control. It’s the exact same situation.”

One of Natasha’s hands found its way to your cheek, gently cupping the skin as you leaned into her touch. You were listening intently to her every word, mesmerized by the calming rasp of her voice.

“Don’t dwell on what you couldn’t do, but give yourself some credit for everything you did do. I may not know what happened, but what I do know is that you tried everything you could, no?”

Natasha questioned you and you nodded your head. “I gave her antibiotics to fight the infection, but it was too severe.” The redhead rubbed her thumb against your cheek.

“All that matters is that you did your best and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.” Natasha ended her little speech as she placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. You couldn’t help but smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness taking over.

“Thank you. I love you and your… what was it?” You furrowed your eyebrows in concentration before your face lit up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at you. “Philosophical bullshit. That was the words.” The Russian let out a laugh, shaking her head from side to side at your antics.

“Seriously though, I’m so grateful for you. You’re so amazing to me even when I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Natasha’s laughter died down as your tone turned serious. Your eyes were so full of love and adoration as you stared into her eyes deeply.

“Well, let’s hope you never have to find out.” Natasha smiled once more and you couldn’t resist pressing your lips against her plump ones. Your mouths moved in tandem at a slow pace, enjoying the rawness and love that accompanied each movement.

You broke the kiss when air became an issue. Nat’s eyes fluttered open as you wiggled your eyebrows at her playfully.

“So, are you ready for some breakfast? Maybe after we eat, we can go on top of a rooftop and I’ll serenade you with a rendition of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber.”

Natasha’s head flew back as she laughed uncontrollably at your words. “What? Do you not like the Biebs? If you want, I could play ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player from a boombox and hold it over my head, instead.” The redhead continued to laugh profusely and you soon joined in. Your arms tightened around her waist as your giggles subsided.

“I think cuddling on the couch and watching the Kardashians eating ridiculously large bowls of salad will do.” You nodded your head in agreement but didn’t make a move to release Natasha from your grip. She didn’t let go either.

The two of you just stood there, basking in each other’s embrace, a comfortable silence falling over you both.

Natasha never failed to say the right things to pull you out of the dark abyss that was your mind. She was completely right, as always. There would always be bad days, patients who were progressing one day and deteriorating the next.

However, there were also good days, and you shouldn’t allow the bad to overshadow all the good you’ve done. Like with Natasha, she wasn’t always the superhero she is today. She took her dark past and turned it into a bright future.

Nat didn’t let her bad days define her and neither should you.

Of course, you would always remember every single patient you had lost, but now, you would take the pain and turn it into motivation; motivation to improve yourself, not only in your professional life but in your personal life as well.

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You would do right by the ones you’ve lost and the one who stuck by your side; Natasha Romanoff.

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───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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naruhearts · 3 years

Text

I’m done keeping my composure.

Sorry, this will be a LOADED post! (And I’ll be repeating the points others have made)

for real, to everyone being nasty and telling heartbroken fans that “Dean was always supposed to die get a grip you’re just butthurt etcetera etcetera—” F you royally.

How dare you police the brutal feelings that’s been embroiling us since the Finale That Must Not Be Named aired.

The show you think you all watched, the show you all believe was the same SPN from Season 1-4, changed at some point. Kripke wrote his original vision, put it to screen, saw it through in S5 as he intended, and closed the door on that era.

In 2008, Supernatural was adopted and inherited. As you know, there was a supreme paradigm shift post-Kripke era. The show FLOURISHED (we won’t talk about Gamble thanks). It evolved, transformed, grew beyond trauma-induced self-worthlessness and toxic masculinity and endless death and hegemonic social ideals and conservatism and repressive anti-revolutionary ideas. Castiel, the iconic favourite and beloved staple of the series portrayed by Misha Collins, was introduced in Season 4 as the core lead character, and he ushered in a brand new era of Christian mythos that SPN took advantage of. Longevity SKYROCKETED. Audiences were INTERESTED. SPN amassed an incredibly groundbreaking fanbase infused by non-nuclear principles. A massive subversive wave began, fighting the Status Quo of the times since 2008. It’s precisely why such an abysmal ending to a show of extensive Freud-Jungian metanarratively meta META complex stature and social POWER will render us totally and unbearably broken for years to come.

Point is, DEAN WINCHESTER NO LONGER WANTED TO DIE. HE WANTED TO LIVE. HE WANTED TO SIT ON THE BEACH, PLUNGE HIS TOES IN THE SAND, AND SIP UMBRELLA DRINKS WITH HIS BROTHER AND HIS BEST FRIEND. He said this in Season 13. And then, a season later, he told the ghost of his long-deceased father — the source of his deep-running trauma and the figure of self-reductive authoritarianism permeating his arc since Season 1 — after being questioned why he didn’t pursue the Nuclear Fam, that he already has his own: his brother Sam, his adopted child Jack, and Cas.

Dean’s best friend Cas. Oh god, Cas, who made his inevitably permanent mark on Dean’s soul beyond allyship. Castiel, renamed to Cas, God’s -iel removed by Dean. Dean, the human spark that lit the fire of pre-existing autonomy in the inherently rebellious angel who was, this entire time, the catalyst for free will in God The Writer’s puppet show. Their friendship set on goddamn fire. I can also write paragraph upon paragraph about my love for Cas while devastated tears stream down my face, but I digress—

Cas’ romantic love for Dean pushed our main Heart of SPN to love himself. Love is free will. Free will is also love. Of note, Cas’ love confession in 15x18 was supposed to offset something so vastly important and fundamental...to maybe (read: most likely) pull the trigger on SELF-TRUTHS in conjunction with free will. And The Great Anticipated Follow-Up to the episode penned by the passionate Berens should have included (read: seemed like it was going to be) Dean, closeted trauma survivor in love with his best friend, being given the opportunity to do it right: to SPEAK HIS TRUTH, and then that very singular opportunity was STOLEN so grossly. After poring over it for days, I refuse to believe we made their years-long story up out of thin air, spun it out of fantastical-delusional dream cotton candy, because we DIDN’T. IT WAS REAL.

As I said in another post: “I’ve just been feeling physically ill for the past >40 something hours with the terrible knowledge that 19/20 undid years of vital progression towards healthy interdependence, autonomy, and a positive endgame, where Sam, Dean and Cas close the ring of found family in final empowering self-fulfillment...where Dean, no longer repressed and set free, is able to use his words and speak his truth as a queercoded trauma survivor, henceforth confirming and self-affirming his own bisexuality since S1 by reciprocating — by telling Cas that he always loved him, too, loved him endlessly, which would have altogether divested Supernatural of its cult status and catapulted it into global worldwide significance as the longest running sci-fi genre show in American broadcasting history that actually dared to defy and, by proxy, empower LGBTQ2IA+ everywhere who found profound personal meaning in Destiel through VALIDATION,” — found themselves mirrored in Dean and Cas’ respective character journeys individually and as each other’s queer love interests.

THIS IS WHY DEAN WASN’T MEANT TO DIE.

THEY WERE SO ESSENTIAL, NOT JUST TO THE OVERARCHING STORY AND HEALTHY INTERPERSONAL THEMATICS OF MODERN SPN, BUT ALSO TO THE SOULS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE ACROSS THE WORLD WHO FOLLOWED THEIR JOURNEYS, HOPED FOR THEM, ASPIRED TO BE LIKE THEM, TREASURED THEM, WEEPED FOR THEM, AND FOUGHT FOR THEM, LIKE YOU AND ME.

Heck, how could anyone think Sam Winchester had a well-deserved characteristic ending? He didn’t. Dean’s brother was shafted so badly. He stopped hunting when seasons ago, he had canonically accepted that he no longer wanted an apple pie life. He simply...turned the lights off in a resoundingly empty bunker and left — abandoning his dead brother’s room — never to return (he did return later to get the Impala, family photos etc, I mean this symbolically)...as if — dare I say it — Supernatural itself eerily told us, in the negative-spaced pitch blackness, that the organic show and the wonderfully complex, matured characters we’ve grown to love weren’t going to survive or be revisited...that it was all going to perish, and that they no longer gave a single shit about their own show, which, to me, is the worst cardinal sin, because how dare they throw Team Free Will, an immovable and indomitable and passionate found family they built from the ground up, a found family CHOCK FULL TO THE BRIM OF LOVE AND LIFE RAGING AGAINST THE AUTHORITARIAN MACHINE IN ORDER TO ACHIEVE FREE WILL, under the bus no matter who is to blame. Growth was stomped on.

Then Sam married a faceless wife who wasn’t his textually established (and deaf) love interest Eileen, named his son Dean Jr., and grew old miserably, still mourning the passing of his older brother, shaken and sombre. Back to square one. IT WAS ALL ANTITHETICAL, even OUTSIDE a shipping context, and I ripped my hair out at this point in sheer disbelief.

This 15x20 ending would have fit somewhere between S4-7. Now? IT DOESN’T FIT. IT’S A JAGGED PUZZLE PIECE THAT DOESN’T BELONG ANYWHERE. IT’S THE FOREBODING UNKNOWN STRANGER IN ITS OWN LAND, BOTH LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY. This kind of ending was basically an illogical, unsound cluster of metastasized cells that, to me, ruined the viability of previous seasons to sustain bold praise and respect and dignity and rewatches and classic nostalgia in such insidious ways.

Dean Humanity Winchester and Cas, after everything they’ve been through, were silenced and lost in death, ripped apart from each other, unable to love each other the way they deserved, because of disappointing, vile incompetency and homophobia. The greatest love story ever told, again obliterated in less than 60 hollow minutes.

You know what this tells your audience, CW SPN? Death without self-growth is the way to go, and no one is allowed to forge their own path to freedom.

HOW INSULTINGLY HARMFUL IS THAT?

I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving.

We all deserve answers.

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

Note

Omg I have an angsty request that I’m sure is going to rip my heart out and light it on fire. It’s a super long and specific request so sorry if I get carried away:

Okay so reader had an unspoken thing in the glade with Gally but then he “died” so over the course of the events of scorch trials she got closer with newt and they start their own unspoken thing. But then in the death cure, newt (realizing he has the flare) starts encouraging her to reconcile with gally because he knows that he’s gonna die and gally will take care of her? But she’s confused on who she loves but kinda clings to what she has with newt because he needs her. And she’s just heart b r o k e n over newt dying but gally helps put her pieces back together in the safe haven and eventually they have their fluffy first time together?

Thanks!

*Fanfare* *Triumphant Music* I finally finished this one! Sorry it took a while, I really wanted this to be perfect. But I think I'm quite happy with how this one turned out! I hope you like it too, sweet Anon. Btw, I know you wanted smut, but I just didn't think it would fit with this one. Sorry, maybe on the next one!

Over 5.2k words, so strap in for a long one y'all

Possible Trigger Warning: Self Harm

~~~~~~~~~~

During your time in the Glade, you were practically attached at the hip with Gally.

He was your best friend, your first go to whenever you had any issues, and you were the same to him.

After his supposed death, you felt a void in your soul. You took on a nihilistic attitude, nothing in life making sense anymore. You didn't care about what happened to you or around you, you wished you had died with Gally, the idea of it being welcomed with open arms.

The thought of dying brought no anxiety, no dread. Even the thought of dying painfully didn't scare you, you wanted it. Everyday you thought about that spear going through Gally's chest, wanting to feel what he must've felt. You wanted to feel the same pain and fear, you wanted to feel like you were dying too.

No rational side of you could explain why you felt this way. Perhaps, if you felt the same pain he felt, maybe it would give some sort of closure. Maybe it would make you feel like you were still close to him, even in death.

It wasn't too long before you decided to act on those feelings. You had been only a knife to your chest, right where your heart was, hyping yourself up to push the blade into your skin.

You didn't want to kill yourself, no. You wanted your death to be natural, not forced. You'd suffer your own existence until your time eventually came like it did for everyone else. But Newt didn't know this when he happened upon you that night, just a couple centimeters of a blade shredding its way into your skin.

Newt panicked, immediately stopping your from hurting yourself, his heart racing at the thought of being too late. But thankfully, he wasn't.

You tried to seem somewhat normal, but the laughter bubbling from your chest couldn't be withheld, making Newt fear that you had lost your mind. He wasn't too far off...

He knew how much Gally's death impacted you, he knew you were in pain every second of every day, but he never thought you'd go so far as hurting yourself. He just silently patched you up, fearing anything he would say from a good place would only upset you further.

Eventually, you explained why you had done what you did. It obviously didn't sit right with Newt. He wasn't particularly close with Gally back in the Glade, but he knew well enough that he wouldn't want you to be living with this mindset.

After a while in the Scorch, you stuck by Newt the most and you started to get better. You felt so empty after Gally's death, leaving a hole in your heart. Newt helped lead you out of that void, trying his best to fit that empty space. But you knew nobody could replace Gally, not even Newt. You knew that space could never be filled, but just seeing Newt try to be that person for you, it was too endearing not to pull at what heartstrings you had left.

Then the complications happened, so much time spent believing that Gally was dead came crashing down as he stood in front of you all, very much not dead.

You thought it had to be a dream, could he really be here?

It was strange. You thought you'd run to him, leap into his arms and kiss all over his face, but you didn't. You stood next to your friends awkwardly as he took off his gas mask. To think you'd be more outwardly happy that someone you cared about was still alive. But you couldn't help the guilt that you felt when Gally said that they left him to die. Sure, it might've not been specifically directed to you, but you felt the sharp sting of his words resonate through you. It almost felt like a strong invisible force hit your funny bone, the volt of uncomfortable aching pain spreading throughout your entire body and leaving you in a breathless agony.

For Gally, he was overjoyed to see you alive and well. He so badly wanted to go to you, feel you in his arms again. But he knew he couldn't, how could he after how he treated everyone back in the Glade?

He didn't remember a lot, but he knew he killed Chuck. The blurry memories of that day, he saw it every night in his dreams. He remembered the sound of the gunshot, the sudden pain in his chest and not being able to breathe. He saw Chuck laying beside him, his expressionless eyes trained on the ceiling, unmoving. His chest wasn't rising and falling like it should've been, blood seeping through his layers of clothing. The most purest soul Gally ever met was dead, and it was his fault.

Gally couldn't even bring himself to look in your direction, he was too disgusted with himself.

Thomas punching Gally wasn't a big shock, he knew he deserved it. But Newt quickly came to his rescue, stopping Thomas from acting out irrationally. But a part of Gally didn't want the Greenie to be stopped. Being punched wasn't something he enjoyed, but Gally would willingly endure whatever punishment that would be inflicted and he'd accept that he deserved it. But nothing he could do or say would bring Chuck back...

When Gally did finally force himself to look at you, he wish he hadn't. You looked indifferent, which never happened with you. He instantly thought that you hated him as much as Thomas did, but then again, he deserved it.

It was really tough for Gally to keep a conversation with everyone while he took them to see Lawrence, especially when he noticed how close you stuck by Newt. But, he supposed it was only natural to find another person to be close to when you've lost someone else, he still couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. He hated how good you and Newt looked together, you seemed...happy.

At the moment, you weren't even close to happy; you were confused, and angry.

It sounded terrible, but a part of you was angry that Gally was actually still alive. You had to go through the mourning process, and you hadn't even finished it and now all of a sudden, he was alive all this time. It put your emotions on haywire, the most you felt was confusion, and if someone would've told you what you were experiencing was some sort of a twisted dream, you would believe them. But your feet were too sore and sunburn too irritating for this all to be a dream.

You sensed Newt's eyes trained on you, you knew he was probably worried, but you couldn't decide what for. Was he worried that you'd go back to Gally? Was he worried you'd replace him now that he was still alive? Knowing Newt, he probably just wanted to talk to you, but even then, you would have no idea what to say. What do people feel or say in situations like this? You were certain not everyone has to go through the loss of a loved one just to find out that they weren't gone, right?

It was late, and you were exhausted, as was everyone else; but you stayed awake, attempting to sleep only causing you to toss and turn, and eventually giving up. But someone else was awake, you were shocked to see that it was Newt. "What're doing awake?" He asked, taking a seat next to you.

"Could ask you the same thing." You replied, only getting a look from Newt in response. "Couldn't sleep." You sighed, caving in to his concerned expression.

"I know it's not my place," Newt started, wringing his hands together nervously, "but, you haven't said a word to Gally." You knew he was going to bring that up, you had that feeling as soon as he saw you were still awake. "I know it was a shock, to all of us. But I thought it'd effect you the most, to be quite honest. You two were pretty close..."

You shrugged weakly, shaking your head. "I don't know what to tell you. Was I supposed to react a certain way? Was I supposed to drop to my knees and burst into tears or something?"

Newt grimaced. "No...of course you're not supposed to act a certain way. It's just a bit strange to me that you haven't tried to speak to him at all."

"I don't even know what I'd say to him." You chuckled bitterly.

"I know you and Gally had something, something special. That sort of thing doesn't just go away. You were absolutely gutted after what happened, this is a chance to reconnect. You care about him, a lot."

"Hey, that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I care about you a lot too."

Newt smiled weakly. "I know, but I really think you should go and talk to him."

You could tell he was being sincere, but you couldn't understand why. You two had grown close over the past several months, so why would he want you to reconnect with someone you used to be even closer with? You weren't really given the time to think over it more before Newt was quickly encouraging you to speak with Gally, telling you where his room was, somehow knowing this conversation would happen and finding out beforehand.

Just a few moments later, you found yourself outside of Gally's door, fist extended out to hover over the worn wood, but you couldn't bring yourself to knock. Thinking back to how hard you tried to avoid Gally when he came back, what if he thought you hated him? What if he didn't want to talk to you?

But before you could chicken out, you forced yourself to knock on Gally's door without thinking, soon hearing the thud of footsteps nearing. With bated breath, you waited for the door to open, anxiety gripping your mind so intensely that it almost triggered your fight or flight response. But Gally's almost hopeful and shocked expression when he saw you waiting relaxed you a little bit. "...hi." Gally voiced, the nervous and confused tone to his voice not going unnoticed by you.

"Hi." You replied, your voice probably just as shaky and nervous as his.

"Uh, come in." He said quickly, moving out of the doorframe, his hands slightly shaking when he motioned you to enter his room.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, so fast and hard that you were worried Gally would be able to hear it. Your hands were shaking, as well as your legs as you walked into his room, it was a miracle you didn't collapse right then and there. You tried not to jump as you heard the click of his door closing, you tried to take deep calming breaths before Gally turned to face you, the two of you almost on complete opposite sides of the room just standing awkwardly.

You stared at Gally, your gaze running up and down his body but ultimately stopping to stare at his chest. Tears quickly came to your eyes as you saw how healthy he looked, like a spear wasn't embedded in his chest months ago. You couldn't stop the flow of whimpers that came from your throat, putting your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. You felt your face start to burn as you felt Gally's arms wrap around you as soon as you started to cry, but his warmth comforting you only caused you to let out more tears.

You never thought you'd be in his arms again.

Gally stood there silently, holding you and just trying to soothe you as best he could. In the back of his mind, he was astonished that you even let him come near you, you had avoided him altogether up until this moment. But the whimpers he heard coming from you, seeing the tears spilling from your eyes, he instinctively went to hug you. He also couldn't ignore the guilt he felt, thinking that you were crying because of him. He hated it. But you hugged him back tightly, burying your face in his chest and trying to stifle your sobs.

"You're here..." You cried softly, "you're really here..."

Gally's lip trembled, tears of his own brimming his eyes at how much pain you must've been in thinking he was dead all this time, your voice giving away your feelings. He exhaled shakily, "I am here." He placed a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm here."

For a few minutes, you and Gally just held each other silently. You both needed this, understanding how badly you missed one another. Soon, you were able to calm yourself, but you still didn't pull away. Gally only pulled away slightly so he could see your face, frowning when he saw your eyes were puffy and tearstained. "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. "What happened wasn't your fault, Gally." You said genuinely. No matter how much pain and anger you felt about what happened to Chuck, you never once blamed him. You knew W.C.K.D. killed him, and every other Glader who died. But Gally's frown told you everything you needed to know; he still blamed himself.

"I should've gone with you." He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "How can you even stand the sight of me?"

"Because I know you never would've killed anyone if you weren't stung, especially Chuck."

Hearing Chuck's name out loud made tears brim Gally's eyes once more, tightening his fists in anger at himself. "Chuck deserved so much better...he wasn't supposed to die..." He cried, causing you to pull him back into your embrace, rubbing his back while trying to not to cry again.

"None of us deserved to get experimented on."

Eventually, you lead Gally to sit next to you on his bed, holding his hand. It felt so right to be sitting there with Gally, you missed him so much that you despised ever feeling even the slightest bit of anger when you first saw that Gally was alive. But one emotion did not go away, you still felt confused.

While sitting there with Gally, you couldn't help but think about Newt. He was so adamant about you reconciling with Gally, was he hoping that something would happen between you two? You truly cared a lot about Newt, and you knew he felt the same way, so you couldn't understand why he was acting this way.

You sighed softly when you started to feel sleepy, standing up slowly. "I should probably head back."

Gally quickly stood up with you. "Uh, you could stay here if you want?" He stammered, causing you to smile a little.

"That's okay. I already had a sleeping bag set up for me downstairs, so..."

Gally tried to hide his disappointed frown, choosing to walk up to you until you two were face to face. Maybe it was too soon, but ever since he saw you, Gally had the strongest urge to place his lips on yours. He missed your soft lips that he only had the privilege of feeling a few times back in the Glade before everything happened. He gently grabbed hold of your jaw, tilting your face up and leaning forward slowly.

You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. But before his lips could connect, Newt's face popped up in your mind and you couldn't, you forced yourself to turn away.

You tried not to look at Gally's face, knowing that he'd probably look like a kicked puppy. You couldn't, it would be too painful. "It's Newt." Gally frowned, taking a step back.

Your eyes widened, finally taking a glance over to him to indeed see that his expression was one of disappointment and sadness. "I never said-"

"You didn't have to." Gally interrupted. "I see the way you look at him...it's how you used to look at me." You stayed silent, a feeling of guilt washing over you. "I don't blame you, Y/n, for finding someone else. I'd never expect you to grieve over me forever, that's too selfish."

Hearing this, you had a terrifying thought that you needed to voice out loud. "Did you ever find someone else?" You asked nervously, afraid of his answer.

"No..." He smiled weakly, "No one that could ever compare to you."

You hated that you felt relieved, you were the one who seemed to be selfish. But, you couldn't just drop what you had with Newt now that Gally's still alive. You couldn't say anything else, what could you say to that?

"You should get some sleep." Gally said, opening his door and motioning you to get out.

"Gally..." You whispered.

"Please. Just...we have a busy day tomorrow."

You sighed. You couldn't argue with him.

Newt watched you walk back downstairs, getting into your sleeping bag with a very prominent frown. Doesn't seem like it went well, he thought. He felt relieved and frustrated at the same time. Newt really cared for you, he could even go as far as saying he loved you, but he needed you and Gally to get back together, or become friends again at least.

It wasn't too long ago that Newt found out he had the Flare. He saw the black and purple veins slowly travelling up his arm, and the pain, the pain was the worst part. You had already gotten close to him, so he was heartbroken to know that you'd just lose another person you cared for. After Gally, he knew you wouldn't be able to handle another loss. So when Gally showed up out of the blue, it was like a miracle, Newt's prayers had been answered.

Newt felt jealousy, of course, he wanted to stay with you. He didn't want Gally to take you from him, but what use would he be when he was dead or a Crank? He tried not to be angry with you, it wasn't your fault how you were feeling, but he needed to know you'd be okay when he was gone.

Newt did try talking to you about it, but you always changed the subject or simply didn't answer him. Before you all knew it, it was time to start planning Minho's rescue mission. Thomas didn't want to use Teresa, and hearing that only made Newt's anger bubble to the surface.

It wasn't like Newt to lash out like that, he was always so calm and relaxed. Maybe the stress finally got to him, maybe it was something else...

You immediately followed after Newt when he stormed out after yelling at Thomas, not knowing that Gally's sad eyes were following you. You couldn't think of anything else, you just had to know that Newt was okay.

You found Newt on the roof, sitting on the ledge. "Newt?" You asked, concerned. "Are you okay...?" You stepped closer captiously, finally taking a seat next to him.

Newt only smiled bitterly. "No...no, not really."

You sighed, looking out to the horizon, trying to find the right words to say. "We all thought Teresa was our friend...it's okay to be angry."

Newt shook his head. "It's not that."

You furrowed your brows. "Then, why did you lash out at Thomas?"

Newt bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He never wanted you to find out this way. He didn't even want you to know. But after that scene he made, he knew there was no point in hiding it anymore.

Tears came to your eyes as Newt lifted up his jacket sleeve, revealing his discolored arm. You knew what it was immediately, seeing it on every Crank you came across. "No..." You whispered. "No."

"I know I probably shouldn't have kept it from you, but I was scared. I still am."

"We'll fix it!" You quickly said, it sounding more like a plead. "We'll find another cure!"

Newt only gave you a weak smile. "I don't think that's a possibility right now, love. Besides, Minho needs us."

"No, you're not allowed to give up like that, Newt. We'll find something to help you. If Brenda was cured, so can you. Teresa might-"

"Please, Y/n." Newt voiced sharply. "Please...just stop. I don't need false hope."

Before you could say anything else, you heard the roof access door open, Thomas walking up to the two of you. "Y/n, can I, uh, talk to Newt? Alone?"

You looked to Newt, who nodded, signaling for you to leave. You stood up, speed walking inside and down the stairs. The tears kept falling, blurring your vision, and you had no idea what to do. Newt was dying, and there was nothing that you could do about it, and it didn't seem like he was too eager to try and find a cure. You hoped Thomas could talk some sense into him. But in that moment, your feet subconsciously took you to Gally's little apartment. You stood in front of the door in tears, wishing that you didn't feel the urge to find comfort in him when Newt was sick. But, you knocked on the door, quickly placing yourself in Gally's arms as soon as he was in front of you.

Gally didn't know what was wrong, he barely got a good look at your face before you threw yourself at him. But the way you were shaking and whimpering, he knew you were crying, and he didn't have the heart to pull away from you. He walked backwards and shut his door, leading you to sit down on his bed with him. He just held you as you cried, leaning his head down on top of yours until you calmed down. He finally spoke when your cries were just quiet sniffles. "What happened?"

You exhaled a shaky breath, lifting your head to look at Gally. "Newt has the Flare..."

"W-What...?" Had Gally heard that right? Could his mind be playing tricks on him? He just assumed everyone that was in the Glade was immune, that's why they were there, right? But you repeated what you had said, confirming what Gally thought he heard. "I...I'm so sorry..." That's all Gally could say. He wasn't very well spoken in these types of situations, all he could do was bring you back into another hug.

You finally understood why Newt was pushing you to get close to Gally again; he wanted you to be close to someone when he died.

Yet another situation that had you confused. You knew you loved Gally, you always had, he was your best friend. But now you had Newt, he helped you through everything while in the Scorch, helped you try to overcome your grieve and probably saved your life multiple times. How could you possibly make a decision like this?

You and Gally never put a label on what you had in the Glade, and nobody asked either, not even Alby. You both just knew that you cared for one another, that you'd do anything for the other. But as time went on, you felt guilty knowing what you'd ultimately choose. It was always going to be a lose lose for you.

Newt needed you, and you couldn't leave him when he needed you the most.

Gally, deep down, knew what your decision was going to be. You had a big heart. You never would leave anyone behind, even if they were infected. Back in the Glade, Gally wouldn't have hesitated in sacrificing the few to save the many, but you were never like that. You cared about everyone, especially the people who were closest to you. You never were going to give up on Newt, you couldn't now. You would spend as much time with him as possible, what little time he might've had left. And you did, until he took his final breath.

You felt like you were a glass vase that had been shattered, and every time you tried to pick up the pieces, the glass would just cut deeper and deeper into your skin. It felt like life didn't want you to be put back together. Nothing felt real. Everything that happened in the Last City felt like a fever dream. You hoped that one day you'd wake up and you'd be back in the Glade, everyone was still alive. Maybe if you could go back in time, maybe you could save everyone, maybe you could've convinced Gally to listen to Thomas, maybe you could've held off Newt a bit longer in time for Brenda to give him the cure.

A lot of maybe's, a lot of hopes and prayers, never answered.

Now in the Safe Haven, you felt anything but safe.

You didn't talk to anyone for awhile, not even Gally. You had nothing to say, and you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone. So, you isolated yourself. And then a couple weeks later, you finally felt everything bubble to the surface.

Sitting down somewhere along the coastline, not too close to the water, but close enough that you could feel the salty breeze of the waves hit you gently as the evening cooled when the sun started to go set.

You tucked yourself up into a ball, your knees as close as you could get them to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. And, you cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. The ugly kind of crying. Your tears weren't coming out one eye at a time in a perfectly straight line down your face like in the movies, you weren't making quiet sniffles or whimpers, you were full on sobbing. Tears came out of your eyes so fast that you could barely make out the sun on the horizon, your shirt sleeves were most definitely covered in snot and whatever salty tears it had the chance to catch. Your throat felt like it was being torn apart by how intense your sobs were. The sobs sounded more like you were having a coughing fit, one of those phlegmy hacking coughs that made you feel like you were going to vomit.

You knew you most likely weren't far enough away from the camp to quiet your weeping, and you knew you were just embarrassing yourself, arranging for yourself to be completely humiliated the next morning when you had to face everybody. But in the moment, you couldn't care less. You loss someone so important to you, it felt like losing Gally all over again. But you knew this time, it was final. No surprise resurrections this time. You felt completely, and utterly, alone.

But you never were.

You felt so dissociated and detached from yourself, the wails of grief too much for your body to handle. You couldn't feel anything around you, not the warmth of the sand, not the slight chill breeze, not even Gally's arms wrapped around you tightly. You didn't realize until you passed out from exhaustion, waking up the next morning in a bed that wasn't yours, and a hut that wasn't yours.

Your vision was still a little bit blurry, all the tears from the night previous crusting to the creases around your eyes, making it a bit of a challenge opening them all the way. But, your other sense were intact enough to tell you that bacon and eggs were next to you on a bedside table. You hadn't eaten the day before, so it was mostly a primal reaction to quickly take the plate and gobble up the food.

You still had to rely on context clues to figure out where you were in the camp. As much as your eyes irritated you, they could now finally work once you were wide awake. You probably should've known immediately who's hut it was, but seeing that familiar grey knitted hoodie settled ungracefully over the backrest of a chair, you knew it was Gally's.

You blushed quickly after that realization. How did he know where you were, and how much did he see? The thought of him seeing you in such a state made you cringe. But what was more horrifying was that Gally was right outside the room, waiting for you to wake up. "Hey..." He voiced, his eyebrows knitted in concern, eyes full of sadness.

You had to look away, the heat rushing to your face making you feel like you were going to pass out again. "Hi." You croaked, your vocal cords still sore and raw.

Gally shifted his weight nervously, taking a step closer to you. "I'm sorry, for bringing you here...I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself." You snapped you gaze back to him in confusion, him quickly blushing, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, Newt told me about what you did to yourself after...after the Maze."

You self-consciously rubbed the spot on your chest where a big scar still remained. "I wasn't trying to...you know, kill myself or anything."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He said softly, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "I just...I didn't know what I was thinking."

Gally gently grabbed ahold of your hand, making you uncross your arms, letting his warm hand take yours. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Newt should be here with the rest of us. He was a good person."

You nodded as tears came to your eyes again, burning enough to make you whimper, and you leaned your head against Gally's shoulder. "I miss him so much." You cried.

Eventually, you and Gally became close again. He was always there for you. Whenever you had nightmares, whenever you were lonely, whenever you needed anything, Gally would always be there. You started to feel your relationship had almost gotten back to the point where it was in the Glade, it had been almost a year, but you still felt it was too early to be moving on. A part of you didn't want to move on, but you knew that's not what Newt wanted either.

You didn't read the note Newt wrote to you when Thomas first gave it to you. The grief was still too near, and you didn't know if you could handle it. But a couple months after your breakdown, you finally read it. Newt loved you, he had always loved you. And he wanted you to be happy, he didn't want you to be sad that he was gone, even though he knew it would be impossible. But he knew you would be okay, he knew Gally would protect you no matter what. Reading his note was part of the reason you knew it would be okay to be with Gally, it just took you some time.

One day, you and Gally were taking a break from working, just sitting near the forest tree line, and you did it; you kissed him, and you couldn't stop, you didn't want to stop. And you didn't, and neither did Gally.

After that, it was almost impossible to spend any time away from each other.

You never thought you'd smile again, but Gally always found a way. He made you so happy, and it made you cry one night when you finally realized that you were happy, and you knew somewhere out there, it made Newt happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cries in Español

#the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #newt x reader #newt imagine #tmr newt #tmr gally #gally imagine #gally x reader #gally

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

Text

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting Part 2

Hoodie

The area where you lived had a ton of back alleyways that acted as shortcuts in a pinch. They were generally safe but you often got an uncomfortable feeling when using them so you preferred to take the busier roads if you could.

Unfortunately, when you had gone to leave work that day, you had spotted the customer who had been harassing you the entire day. It wasn’t anything creepy but it was over-the-top persistent and you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. You slipped out the backdoor as a result. At least you’d get home sooner.

For the most part, you didn’t encounter anything too suspicious and the light from the streets illuminated where you were going.

The large bins outside the grocer’s home indicated that you were getting close. You sped up and rubbed your eyes blearily.

Ahead of you, a dog was barking from inside one of the buildings. It was a pretty noisy animal and you began peering around to see what the source of its agitation was. Ironically, you ended up bumping directly into him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, rubbing your shoulder.

The guy was tall, wearing dark clothing and standing right in the shadows. You could have probably noticed him if you were a little more awake.

He turned and your breath caught.

His face was obscured by a dark mask with red features stitched onto it. His hoodie which originally seemed dark was now illuminated into a soft yellow or orange, stained with a dark substance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice crackled out, clearly coming through a voice changer of some kind.

“I – I was just taking a shortcut home. I live near here so I thought… I really didn’t mean to bump into you. I’m super tired.”

“Tired or not, you shouldn’t have seen me,” the guy said. “Do you have a phone or a camera?”

Slowly, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I don’t have any cash in my wallet –“

“I don’t want your money!” he snapped. “I’m not some petty thief, believe me, I have better things to do with me time. Unlock this.”

You did so and he went through it with a gloved hand. He didn’t have a weapon but something in your gut warned you to just go along with it. Nobody covered up everything, including their voice, when they were up to something good. This guy may not be a thief… but the alternative didn’t feel too much better.

He shoved your phone back at you. “Get out of here and don’t breathe a word of this to anybody. Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood today.”

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you?”

“I’m serious,” he warned. “I can let you go just because you seem pathetic enough to not take this to the police but unless you want to catch a bullet in your back, you’ll keep quiet. My boss doesn’t like people getting involved with this nonsense.”

“A bullet?”

He didn’t answer and your heart thundered in your chest. Part of you wondered if he was going to kill you while you ran away but his attention seemed to have moved away from you. You hurried away, holding your breath the entire time. Every time you glanced over your shoulder, the guy remained unmoving.

When you reached your home, you locked the door tightly and slumped against it in exhaustion.

Homicidal Liu

The sunset was beautiful over the graveyard – the only beauty to an otherwise morbid place.

You stared at the purples and oranges dancing across the sky. The wreath pricked at your hands after a while and you stared down at it. Why did you still bother with bringing flowers? Hadn’t it been long enough? Still, you made your way down to the grave and placed them there, not even bothering to read the name on there.

Lately, your graveyard visits had becoming fewer and fewer. Time hadn’t been on your side recently and thus, your precious solitude had to suffer. You relished in the way that nobody really bothered you here.

An orange glow warned you when the streetlights came on. Perhaps you had been there for longer than you thought but this was to be your last visit.

Better to make it count.

Something caught in the wind made you raise your head. A piece of fabric was stuck in the nearby fence, identifiable as a scarf when you ventured closer.

You took it from the fence and looked around for its owner. Nobody was in view… maybe it had been blown off one of the graves? It did seem homemade.

Guessing, you began to place it on a grave when a voice startled you.

“I’m sorry to bother but I think you have my scarf?”

The man was standing far too close for you to have not seen him when you were glancing around but you blamed that on your night vision. He wore dark clothing and seemed awkward just to be speaking to you.

“Thank goodness,” you said. “I was just going to leave it on one of the graves because I didn’t know who it belonged to.”

He thanked you for it, wrapping it around the lower half of his face almost immediately. “That would be a waste,” he said. “Especially to leave it on this one. Thank you for grabbing it.”

A harsh wind blew through the graveyard, carrying with it the smell of an incoming storm. He grabbed his scarf just in time to prevent it from going flying away again.

“Seems like the weather is determined to steal it from you.”

“Far more powerful things have tried.”

You buried yourself further into your jacket and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new in town or just coming to visit a new grave?”

“I’m not visiting a grave,” he admitted. “I just thought that this would be the way back to my house… I grew up in this town but only recently moved back and I’m already lost. It’s a little embarrassing if I’m honest.”

“Well, I like to know everybody,” you said. “What’s your name?”

“Su – I mean, Liu,” he said. “Liu. Sorry, I nearly gave you my surname.”

You laughed. “Oh that’s no problem. It’s nice to meet you but I really like your name. Is it Chinese?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked around and began walking away. “I really have to go. Thank you for getting my scarf and all that.”

“I’ll see you around,” you said with a wave.

It was only later when you realised how suspicious that entire interaction was. You had never seen Liu before in your life and he was just hanging around in the graveyard? He hadn’t seemed too creepy at least. Maybe you would see more of him in the coming days.

Jane the Killer

It wasn’t that you were unobservant or inattentive toward girls but nobody had really caught your eye until Jane.

She was stunning in a way that few people could ever match with dark hair that tumbled past her hips and soulful eyes. Her walk was always confident, her smile always perfect, and her attention always desirable. Your main regret about life was that you didn’t speak to her sooner – especially when you thought back on what happened not too long after your first meeting.

You organised with your friends to somehow bump into her but instead, you wound up getting treated for a pretty painful bruised hip. Your second plan didn’t work out either and your third never even left the drawing board.

“Just go up to her and say hi. Tell her that she’s beautiful,” your friend encouraged. “She’ll say thanks and then you’ll be able to talk to her.”

“That’s so boring though,” you said. “It’s not like something out of a romance novel.”

Your friend groaned and stood up. “Well, I’m going home. We have like three months left of high school and I’m not going to spend that time obsessing over how to speak to a girl. She’s literally a regular person.”

They were right and you knew that. No matter how you tried to set up a sweeping romance, it probably wouldn’t work out.

So you tried.

And you tried.

Two weeks later, you were about to give up on mimicking a romance novel and it appeared that your friend was thinking the same thing. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you somewhere, muttering about changing the topic. You had a vague idea of where you were going but you didn’t fight too much.

“What if she’s still dating that Woods boy?” you asked. “The older one.”

“They broke up after literally a month of dating. I don’t blame her – those Woods boys are pretty enough but the older one has something seriously wrong with him. And the younger one is always talking to himself…”

“I really don’t care about the Woods’,” you commented.

“No, you care about Jane who is honestly quite weird as well,” they said. “But that is going to be your problem and not mine.”

They dragged you directly up to her group. It wasn’t large – despite Jane’s beauty, she wasn’t incredibly popular due to her associations. Your friend wasn’t the only one who was a little scared of the Woods boys and Jane had hung out with them for quite a while.

“Hey,” your friend said before even letting you go. “You have no idea who we are but my friend here has a massive crush on you. Could you please just say hi so they can get it out of their system?”

You were sure that it was unhealthy to be as red as you were. It felt like your heart was about to leap from your chest.

Jane laughed, a soft and gentle sound. “I’m not really interested in a relationship,” she hummed. “But thank you. That’s very flattering.”

Somehow, your heart sped up still and you awkwardly rubbed your arm. “No problem?”

“Why don’t you join us for a little bit?” Jane offered. “Just because I don’t want to date anybody doesn’t mean that we can’t become friends. You look like my kind of person.”

You stumbled over your words but somehow, your conversation managed to go extremely well. Jane was brilliant in every possible way and you quickly grew attached to seeing her every day. That was why you mourned so greatly when she died.

Jason the Toymaker

The sun was so warm against your skin. You could stay there forever, stretched out on the grass and basking in the sunlight.

“It’s done,” your friend’s voice broke through your daydreaming

You opened your eyes and rolled over to see exactly what they had been working on for the entire trip. After realising the first few times that you weren’t going to get a reaction, you had decided to wait for them to finish working before you tried to have a conversation.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you said. “That’s amazing.”

The hyper-realistic man was sketched to perfection with a top hat, a fur coat, and a small mouse sitting on his left shoulder. It felt like his eyes could piece into your soul.

“Who is that?” you asked them.

They stared blankly at the image and shook their head. “I don’t know,” they said. “He’s been in my dreams for so long. I think it has something to do with my amnesia. Maybe I knew him once before.”

“He’s a little intimidating,” you said. “I could imagine him to be a ringleader in a circus that’s like a secret cult. Maybe he’s why you lost your memory.”

“Maybe…” they said, tapping the picture. They suddenly shoved it into your chest and stood up. “You keep that. I don’t want it anywhere near me. I need to go talk to my parents.”

You watched them race out of the park in confusion. The man in the picture stared up at you with haunting eyes.

Folding it in half so it didn’t freak you out, you stood and dusted off your clothing. Maybe it would be best if you headed home. It was getting late either way.

Later on, you’d call your friend and check up on them.

About 10 minutes away from your house, the feeling of being watched snuck up on you. It hung heavily around your shoulders like a cloak. You glanced around but saw nobody.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable leading whoever was following you back to your house. You made a point of walking amongst large crowds and headed for the police station.

They were watching you the whole way.

You sped up. A few people bumped into you and you apologised as best as you could. Your grip on the picture was getting tighter enough for you to tear it. The later it got, the fewer people were on the streets and so you were pretty much alone when you bumped into him.

It took you a few seconds to recognise the man from the drawing.

If you thought his drawn eyes were captivating, they had nothing on his real ones which glowed with an almost ethereal light.

“You’re him,” you breathed.

He stared at you, smile falling from his face in confusion. “Who?”

You shakily held out the drawing and he yanked it from your hands. “My friend drew that,” you explained. “They said that its of somebody from their past. They have amnesia you see.”

He was unmoving as he studied the picture. You began feeling a little uncomfortable and then his gaze snapped to you. “Is that so?” he asked.

You nodded and took a small step away from him. “Maybe you should go and talk to them? See –“ you swallowed nervously. “See if you can help them remember?”

“No need,” he said, dropping the paper on the ground. “Who are you?”

Your name came out as little more than a soft whisper. Something about the entire scenario made you uneasy. His appearance was too unnatural.

A gust of wind came by, picking up the drawing and whipping it away. You watched it go and when you looked back down, his eyes were locked on you.

“Such a pity,” he said. “You would have been the perfect doll.”

Wearily, you took a step backwards. His words made your stomach churn uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled. It was kind and warm but it only made you more nervous. His eyes looked like they had almost changed colour; shifted a shade darker than previously. “Thinking aloud my dear,” he said.

“About dolls?” you asked.

He tilted his head a little towards you. “I’m going to have to bid you goodbye. It seems I have other matters to attend to.” He brushed past you, stopping briefly when directly next to you. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He was gone before you could even spin around to face him.

Jeff the Killer

Pausing the song, you removed your earphones as quietly as possible and placed them down on your desk. According to the blinking numbers on your phone screen, it was nearing 2 AM. Far too late for anybody to make an excess of noise.

You listened closely. The music had been too loud for you to hear anything and you almost brushed the strange noise off as your sleep-deprived imagination. Until something squeaked like shoe soles on tiles.

In retrospect, you should have immediately called 911 but you didn’t want to sound a false alarm.

The light switch was thankfully directly outside your room. The hall illuminated most of the house when they were on and it steeled your nerves. Your roommate’s door was open, allowing you to confirm their sleeping state, curled up in their bed amongst the piles of mess. They had had to move to the spare room due to a faulty window earlier in the day and had clearly given up sorting items.

You glanced into the apartment’s other rooms before heading to the kitchen. There was nothing odd. The scuttling when you entered the kitchen just suggested that your neighbour’s rat infestation may be migrating.

Making a mental note to call the exterminator, you turned to switch off the kitchen light.

Something slammed into you, forcing your back to collide with a wall. A hand covered your mouth and the overwhelming scent of blood and decay invaded your nose. Something cold and sharp pressed against your neck.

“Shut up and stay still,” the man snarled at you. “I don’t think anybody will appreciate you getting blood in the kitchen.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and your body stilled. The man in front of you was terrifying. His skin pale and mutilated. Eyes far too wide for a normal person and dancing with an insanity that sent chills down your spine.

And his mouth… a bloody smile carved across his face, stretching halfway to his ears.

He studied your face carefully and his expression twisted. “You’re not the right one,” he snapped. The knife moved away from your neck, so he could point with it. “I had this all planned and yet when I came into that room, I found it empty. Why?”

Even if he hadn’t been holding your mouth shut, you doubted you would have been able to formulate an answer. The pounding heartbeat in your ears was nearly blocking out his voice.

He lightly tapped your cheek with his knife. “Not that it matters,” he said. “I’ll just have to adapt my original plan. You’re not the right target but I’m a huge fan of collateral damage.”

A small whimper escaped you and tears welled at your eyes. You didn’t want to die.

“Don’t blubber!” he ordered. “View it as a good thing. You’ll be all over the news. Another victim of Jeff the Killer. Hell, you might even be added to a Wikipedia page or something.”

You could recall that name from the news. Often followed by a lengthy list of deaths and the police chief begging for any information about the murderer.

Jeff stared at you for a long minute before he pressed the knife’s blade to your throat and moved his hand away from your mouth. “Scream and I will remove your vocal cords,” he threatened. “Who are you?”

It took several deep breaths and a flicker of impatience in his expression to give you the ability to talk again. You stammered out your full name as quickly as you possibly could.

He rolled his eyes and tilted the knife so it scratched your skin. A sticky and warm substance ran down your throat in small droplets. “Pathetic.”

“Sorry,” you whispered on instinct. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You ruined my earlier plans to take out my original target by interrupting me before I could find them. Why shouldn’t I settle for you instead?”

You didn’t have an answer.

He took the blade away from your throat. “If you call the police and report what happened here tonight, I will slice you into little pieces.”

It was almost twenty minutes after he left before you regained any movement in your body. You slumped into a heap on the kitchen floor and started sobbing.

Kagekao

Things had been going missing around your house.

Initially, you had thought it was just due to you forgetting where you’d plopped things because it was simple things. Drinks that vanished, keys turning up on the opposite side of the house, and random spills that you didn’t remember making.

But then it started getting weirder still.

You would make food and pack it away, knowing that you would eat it later, and find it gone. Picture frames disappeared, never to be seen again. Your rug half-unraveled during the night and you found it in a pile the next morning. A candle in your bathroom fell over and, somehow, the curtains on the other side of the house had caught alight.

It was suspicious, to say the very least. You began to think that you had some kind of intruder – once, the news reported that a woman found a homeless man living in her attic and eating her food when she wasn’t looking.

So you went out and bought cameras, setting them up throughout your house.

For two weeks, they caught nothing until one of them ended up breaking. You went to get it repaired and the company managed to recover what it had last seen. Which was nothing on your first glance.

But you were soon to realise, that was only because you had been looking at the floor.

While you were rewatching when you got home, you noticed something. The window was sitting wide open and the camera’s angle only allowed you to see half of it. Right toward the end of the feed, a gloved hand appeared on the side of the window and a slight shadow indicated something climbing through.

So you got reinforced windows and made sure that none were open unless you were in the room.

Things still continued happening.

You were beginning to get really annoyed by this. It was tempting to go to the police and let them just handle it but that was going to be a lot of effort that you really didn’t care for. You didn’t feel like you were in much danger. Nothing had happened in your bedroom.

Your next plan was to set up a trap of some kind. With a hidden camera set up, you made extra food and left it on the counter to see if something happened.

The next day, you watched as a plastic toy of some kind was thrown directly into the plate from somewhere off-camera, breaking it and leaving an absolute mess everywhere.

Still not considering it to be anything dangerous, you just cleaned up the mess and loudly cursed out anybody who was listening. You stalked the house after that, searching every nook and cranny with a bat in hand. The final place was the closet in your bedroom and you peered in, expecting nothing.

When you turned around though, you spotted something sitting in the corner of the room.

It was humanoid with arms twisted into awkward positions and a mask on its face. Half the mask was black and the other white, both sides bearing an unnaturally smiling expression. The creature cackled when you saw it and scuttled out of the door, stuck to the roof the entire time.

A second passed.

Then another.

You pinched your arm hard and waited to wake up. Surely there was no way… I mean, why would… humans didn’t generally crawl along the ceiling? Well, you were quite sure they never did that. You must have been imagining it.

A second laugh corrected you on that.

You swallowed thickly, walked over to your door as calmly as possible and locked it. Then you took out your phone and finally called the police.

Kate the Chaser

The day when Kate was sent away remained very clear in your mind. It was a moment that brought extremely change to your life, mixing up your friend group and sending you in a different direction.

The years has passed and you had never gotten over your best friend. They said that she had lost her mind and you knew it was true. All those games investigating the woods and ghost hunting must have put a toll on her mind. Sometimes, you blamed yourself for all the pranks and you knew that Lauren had similar doubts.

And now she was back.

Lauren and you hadn’t remained close, the entire situation feeling too real with one another. Your greeting was stilted but neither of you wanted to be the first to approach the house.

“Do you think that she remembers us?” Lauren asked.

“If she didn’t then her mom wouldn’t have invited us over,” you said.

You stood in complete silence, staring up at the house. Would you even recognise Kate? The last time that you had seen her was when you were both young children and her face remained at that age in your memories.

Eventually, you gained your confidence before Lauren and you walked over, knocking on the door before anxiety could find you.

Kate answered the door and you forgot why you had ever been nervous.

Time had slimmed her face and shortened her hair. Her eyes were still a gentle brown and the cockiness had faded from her smile, but it was recognisable from your nostalgia. It made you feel warm and known – an aura that you had missed without even realising it.

“Hi,” you greeted.

Kate pulled you into a tight hug and you returned it, clutching at her tightly as though she could slip through your fingers. It really had been too long and when you moved away, she held onto Lauren with the same enthusiasm.

“How have you been?” she asked. “You have to tell me everything.”

The three of you spent the rest of the afternoon having tea and just talking about the world at large. Kate didn’t have many stories from the hospital – she claimed it was because the place had been extremely boring and neither of you pushed to find out more about it. Honestly, it was more comfortable to act as though she had simply moved away.

Lauren had to leave first and you were going to go with her but Kate had looked so down that you remained just a little longer. That was when things got weird.

“I’ve missed music a lot,” Kate sighed.

“Did they not allow you to listen to music?”

She grimaced. “No, they did but often I couldn’t hear it over the static. Its mostly gone away now but it came back last night… it fills my brain and all that I can think of is a way to make the pain stop.”

The colour drained from your face as you stared at her. You didn’t know much about what happened to her but you had thought she would be okay now.

Realising it, Kate hurried to reassure you, “I really have recovered,” she said. “My hallucinations have faded and my medication keeps my emotions in check. You really don’t have to be scared of me.”

You stared down at your cup awkwardly. “I’m not scared of you,” you reassured her. “You’ve never done anything to me.”

She nodded. “It will be alright, you’ll see. I’m ready to get back to a normal life with my friends and not have to worry about that ghost stuff ever again.”

Laughing Jack

It was on your leg…

The glare you fixed the small child with could wilt plants. It didn’t care though and merely clutched at your clothing with a happy smile. “Come play with me?” it asked. “I can introduce you to all my friends!”

“How old is she again?” you grumbled at your friend.

Your friend laughed and ruffled their cousin’s hair. “I had an imaginary friend when I was 10. She’s only 6, she’s still at the stage where they’re a big deal.”

The child was oblivious to your conversation and reached out her arms. “Come on. The parents are being boring. I have candy that my friend gave me. We can share it.”

“I agreed to come along to your family get together to keep you company,” you said to your friend. “You know I don’t like children. Babysitting really isn’t my forte.”

All you received for your complaining was laughter.

By the time you had the 4th teddy bear had been introduced, you were done. Why did one kid have so many toys?

“Now which one of your friends gives you candy?” your friend asked. “Because if it’s from Princess, I don’t think it’s edible. What if she secretly puts glitter in it?”

Expected to play along, you sighed. “Unless it’s glitter from rainbows because then it’s got magic powers and allows you to fly.”

The child liked your thumb-sucked statement because she jumped up in excitement. “I don’t get it from Princess. Jack gives it to me! But if Princess can make me fly, I want to have that kind of candy instead!”

“Which one’s Jack again?” you asked, eyeing the line of toys.

“He’s not here right now,” the child said, biting her inner cheek. She turned in a circle. “Sometimes he hides in the cupboard though!” She ran over to her cupboard and pulled the doors open. “I don’t think – OW!”

She reeled backwards, clutching her cheek. Both you and your friend immediately jumped up and ran over to her. A tiny slice mark ran across the side of her face. It wasn’t anything serious, but she was sobbing as though it would kill her. You presumed a small edge on one of the boxes in the cupboard had been the cause.

“Do you want me to take you to mom, so she can kiss it better?” your friend asked. “Your new best friend can wait here and make sure all your toys are safe.”

The child nodded, and she got led out of the room. You rolled your eyes at the sensitivity and reached into the cupboard to push the box out of the way. A clawed hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed your wrist tightly.

Before you could even shout, it lifted you off the ground by your arm and a second hand had wrapped around your mouth.

The monster’s body appeared out of the closet.

It was a clown. Easily 7ft tall and comprised of monochrome colours with a sharp, pointed nose and long, greasy hair. Its black lips spread into a smile, revealing pointed teeth and a sickeningly sweet breath.

You writhed against its grip, trying to scream or do anything but it was insanely strong, and it just laughed at your efforts.

“How mean,” it purred, leaning in close to your face. “You ask who I am and then, when I appear to you, you insult my appearance. Awful etiquette. Your parents should be concerned about how rude you are to strangers.”

You strained your memory to think about what you had been doing before it grabbed you but the adrenaline was clouding your mind. What had you asked? You struggled more with the lack of memories.

The clown shook its head. “I haven’t revealed myself to somebody so old in a long time. You should be flattered but instead you choose to try and kick me. This is why I don’t do this. Children are far more polite.”

He released you suddenly and you landed hard on the ground. It winked and disappeared, right as your friend and her cousin returned.

“You met Jack!” the child shouted excitedly, pointing to the candy lying next to you.

You shoved it away from you as quickly as possible.

#creepypasta #scenarios #hoodie x reader #marble hornets #homicidal liu #jeff the killer #jane the killer #jason the toymaker #kagekao #x reader #jeff the killer x reader #laughing jack #kate the chaser

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