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fastcardotmp3 · 4 months

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Nancy & Eddie; Nancy & Wayne; 1.4k; post-S1; the melancholy of Christmas; grief/mourning

That night, after Steve goes home and the leftovers are put away and the voices from Mike's walkie talkie murmur through the walls, Nancy creeps past the gleaming tree in the living room and out the front door.

The dark of the sky is gray with the potential for overnight snow and her layers of shirt and sweatshirt and coat and scarf and gloves keep the cold from permeating too quickly, but her cheeks pink over before she reaches the end of the cul-de-sac, let alone her destination.

She shouldn't be out this late. Her mother would hate it if she weren't wine drunk and sleepy enough not to notice, and there's not a good place for Nancy to do what she needs to do, but it's also not an optional thing.

It's not, to her.

There's no grave to visit at the cemetery, because Barb isn't dead to anyone else the way she is to Nancy, but she goes there anyway. Has been. Will continue to.

She's making do, in this and in so many other ways, and so she tries not to feel the utter not enough-ness of the little stack of stones she's built in a lopsided pyramid under a big oak tree with far-stretching branches right at the highest point of the cemetery.

She tries not to think about how she can't add Barb's name to this sham of a grave, can't even call it that when Barb's body is trapped somewhere she can never reach and thus can't bring home either.

Nancy just lowers herself to the cold, hard earth and goes about straightening the pile again, as she always does. She uses them as a barrier this time, a little fenced-in square to hold up the poinsettias she'd stolen from the centerpiece that had sat in the center of their Christmas dinner.

Her hands tremble. She lets them.

Her swallow grows thick. She lets it.

Her tears do not fall. They stay caught in her gut where the rest of her guilt resides, the rest of all her worthless searching, the rest of the hope she never got to mourn for fear of seeming ungrateful for the return of her brother's best friend.

Nancy sits here in front of her makeshift memorial and she does not cry, because there are no tears, and she does not speak, because there are no words, but her heart screams loud enough to shake the town apart.

Her soul wails and laments and begs. She lets it.

She lets it be loud enough that she doesn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her until there's the quiet clear of a throat and question of--

"Hate to bother you, kiddo, but can I bother you a moment?"

Nancy startles, both at the gentle gruffness of the self-contradictory question and the realization that her face is damp with the silent remnants of tears she cannot feel past the numbness of the cold.

"Sor-- Sorry?" she clears her throat as she stumbles quickly to her feet, brushing off her skirt and the thick tights beneath it as she does.

The man behind her isn't someone she knows, which would be a frightening thing if she were in any other mental state than this one, so doused in apathy for her own self that danger doesn't really register.

He wears a warm looking hunting jacket, a thick winter cap with flaps over the ears, and holds a thermos out in front of him.

"S'only, my boy spotted you out in the cold over here," he gestures to Nancy's left where she sees a boy she does recognize, the flit-away of his gaze back to a headstone at his feet all she gets out of Eddie Munson before his arms are crossing over his chest and his shoulders are hiking up around his ears. "Wondered if maybe you couldn't do with some company? Or just somethin' warm to drink?"

He holds the thermos up, this-- this person speaking for Eddie Munson when Nancy has never seen the guy be anything other than outspoken.

The sky is gray in its darkness, a muted sort of black that doesn't allow for stars beyond the heavy clouds.

There's a little pile of stones which are the only remembrance for a girl who deserved so much better than she ever got on the ground behind her.

"You want me to...?"

"We're visitin' his Mama," he says gently, and Nancy understands Eddie's posture better now, that distance away feeling shorter between them. "Anyone out here on Christmas oughtn't be alone, though, don't you think?"

"She didn't run away," Nancy blurts, the sudden need to explain overwhelming any of the kindness being offered to her.

He just nods. Succinct but not dismissive.

"Okay."

"She--" Nancy chokes. She can't tell if her cheeks are still wet. "She didn't run away."

She's not allowed to say it. She's not allowed to talk about it. She can't impart the seriousness of how much Barb didn't leave, didn't go, didn't get far enough away before her time ran out.

But this man, this Munson, he just takes a step closer with the suggestion of an offer with the slightest raise of his arm and Nancy is-- Nancy is hugging him.

She's leaning into the warmth of him, letting him wrap his arm across her shoulders and rub her back with a gloved hand because-- because no one, not a single person, none of them listen when she says it.

Not even the ones who know, not even the boy who loves her, not her own mother who cared more about the fact that Nancy lost her virginity than her best friend.

"I hear ya," he says in a quiet murmur and Nancy believes him. Can hardly breathe past the force of what it feels like to have the words she speaks land softly, with understanding.

"Sorry, sorry," she swipes at her face as she pulls away, and he lets her go without argument, but stays standing there. "Sorry, I know I look hysterical, I just."

A hitching breath. She doesn't hear these footsteps getting closer either, but she feels Eddie's presence in that familiar posture she has gotten to know too well since that first week in November.

She's about to enter a new year, a year with a new number and a new turn of the earth that Barb will never see.

"We're going for pie," Eddie says, even as Nancy wipes her face with the tail of her scarf like a child. "Diner off Walnut's open on Christmas. If you wanna come and be a fuckin' mope with me."

And there's something to it, this undeniable acceptance that Nancy is, in fact, facing the same sort of loss as a boy without a mother, that has her snorting with laughter.

There's something about them, the Munson's with their seeing of her in the most vulnerable state she's allowed herself to express outside the privacy of her shower, that feels like the same sort of relief as the release of pressure that comes along with laughter.

"Do you always pick up strays at the cemetery?" she asks with an attempt at humor, expecting the same dry witted sarcasm in response.

Instead she gets a softening.

Instead she gets this: "I was in band with her," with the lowering of a gaze to a pile of mismatched stones, only to raise back to meet Nancy's with intent, "she made me laugh."

Nancy's chin wobbles. Her lungs too tight in her chest.

She knows then, even before she says it and earns the drape of Eddie's arm around her narrow shoulders, that she'll go with them and eat pie with them and grieve with them.

They'll tell her about the woman they've lost and maybe Nancy will be able to choke out a sentence or two about the girl who raised her only for Nancy to fail her.

They'll eat and she will listen to them because she knows the importance of such a thing and it will hurt.

It will always hurt.

"You said something about pie?" she manages to get out with a hard sniff of her frozen nose.

There is a piece of her lost to a world locked off from the rest of them.

She wonders, tucked into the Munson's pickup truck on a journey in search of pie, whether maybe that's not such an isolated feeling as she thought.

#dot fic #dot post #nancy wheeler #eddie & nancy #eddie munson #wayne munson #sometimes i think about the 1 scene we got with wayne and nancy and go yes yeah exactly exactly uh huh #continuing the eddie and nancy best friends agenda #he would have known and liked barb and I STAND BY THAT #anyways i never write holiday fics but here's christmas dot style mwah

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i-like-anything-water · 10 months

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Prompt: wenclair sleepy time

Thank you for the fic request, drunkenbartend! It's a lot shorter than my previous fics but I hope y'all enjoy!

Dinner Time

The sun had just set when she finally arrived home. Wednesday groaned as her back cracked satisfyingly, her coat discarded to the nearby chair. The kitchen light was on and there was some rustling, sounds of pans and bowls being put down. Wednesday hummed as she smiled a small smile, silently creeping into the kitchen. Her body was beat after today's hectic schedules with both her work as the town's head detective and the publishing company's insistent demand on her next installment's draft. She was close to being the murderer. Again.

"Baby!" Enid smiled as she looked up from where she was cutting some carrots. Her wife looked radiant and it was enough for her to slump against the warm, fuzzy sweater clad body of the blonde. Enid giggled as she wrapped her arms around the shorter woman's waist, Wednesday sighing contentedly as she burrowed her head at the crook of the taller woman's neck.

"Busy day, honeybee?"

"Mhmmm, stop calling me that," Wednesday replied softly as her eyes slowly dropped. The tiredness of the day was starting to hit her full force and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Enid and sleep until she doesn't feel like stabbing people.

"Hmmm," she felt her wife's eyes on her, "Dinner can wait. Let's go to bed."

Wednesday snorted, "Cara Mia, I thought it was food before sex?"

"That's not what I meant!" Enid squealed, her face coloring pink, "I meant you need rest, silly. You look like a zombie and no, we are not going to the cemetery to take a picture. Not now, anyways."

Wednesday pouted at her wife's statements which made Enid grin, "Alright, sleepyhead. Let's get you to bed."

"Okay."

She started to pull out from the hug when Enid grabbed her elbow. Raising a brow, Enid merely smirked and lifted her up until she was carried like a sack of rice on the blonde's muscular shoulder.

"Enid!"

"Next stop: the bedroom! Chuu chuu!"

Her head hit the soft pillows as Enid not so gently dropped her on their king sized bed. Having no energy to snap at the blonde without sounding like an immature teenager, she mustered all the energy she had to glare at her smiling wife.

Enid leaned down as she placed a soft kiss on her gloomy wife's forehead. "Rest. I'll wake you when dinner is done."

"No."

"No?"

"Stay. With me."

"But dinner-"

"Takeout."

Enid sighed as she used her werewolf speed to quickly turn off the appliances unless they wanted their house on fire. Again.

Wednesday smiled as she snuggled deeper into her human heater as the day's tiredness bled away.

#wenclair #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wenclair fanfic #requests

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ichijager13 · 1 year

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Without you

Pairing : Odasaku x reader

Rate : general audience

A futur time line where Dazai is the port mafia boss, Six years time skip since the dark era arc, both me, Dazai and reader need a hug, domestic fluff, grief, trying to start all over again.

Summary: After three years, Reader meets Dazai, her lover's friend at the cemetery.

Word count: 5K

A/N: What can I say other then that this one broke my heart to pieces... Enjoy reading.

This is a rewrite of something I bulished months ago on AO3 (I made it angstier...)

Also, I would like to thank each one of you for the support you are giving me ❤️

A sleepy smile spread across your lips when you felt him pressing tender kisses along your bare shoulders. You tilted your head to give him more access to the thin skin of your neck. A quiet whimper dropped from you as he grazed your warm skin with his sharp teeth.

You rolled to your side and brushed your lips against his. "Good morning". you whispered combing your fingers with soft and short red locks.

"Good morning, my love". he breathed against your lips. his arms brought you closer while his lips moved oh so gently against yours.

Early mornings, sleepy cuddles, soft and long kisses, books scattered in every corner of your apartment, the appealing smell of curry, warm smiles, soft red locks underneath your fingers, giggles of the kids, tight hugs, and endless happiness. Things you had to live without since that day. things that disappeared from your life with him.

You slipped your shoes on and checked once again for your phone and wallet before you closed the door behind you.

"I love this city". You hummed feeling your lover's warm embrace. "I can't see myself living somewhere else like I can't imagine myself being with someone else but you". Your head rested on his shoulder while your grip around his body tightened. Soft lips pressed to your temple; you close your eyes before you follow. "Promise me you'll never leave and that we'll grow old together under the sky of this town".

The sound of the kids echoed in your ears while you remained there, standing on your balcony watching the sun slowly set, pressed against each other.

After almost three years you moved back to Yokohama, his hometown, the only place where you belong. After three long years, you are finally able to breathe the same air he once breathed. You finally went back to your apartment.

You frowned when you checked the caller's ID, you left the teacher's room to take it.

"You need to come as soon as possible". Dazai's desperate voice spoke as soon as you picked up. "He has been severely injured; I'll send someone to get you". Your heart pounded violently against your ribcage. Without a word, you hung up went back inside grabbed your stuff, and left. You remained silent during the whole ride.

It was another Saturday morning; the kids were at your mother's place. On your way to the cemetery; you stopped to get a bouquet of fresh daisies.

Ever since that fatidic day six years ago, you never missed your weekly date with your lover. You would sit there with your back leaning against his tombstone and babble about stuff. Your lectures, current read, what's on your mind, and recently about the kids.

You stepped out of the car before it fully stopped and ran inside the building. It was a little bit dark but you could make out the contours of Dazai's frail figure hugging a body. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized whose body it was.

"My love". you clutched your hands to your mouth falling to your knees next to him. with gleaming eyes, you watched his hand falling off Dazai's face. With the last bits of strength, he had, he managed to take off the bandages covering the teenage port mafia executor's face.

You kneeled in front of the gravestone and pressed your lips to the letters forming his name. "Good morning, my beloved". You greeted before sitting down.

"Daisies?" you frowned watching the man you love making a flower crown. Your question was met with a quiet hum as a response. "Why though?"

"'Cause, it reminds me of you". He answered placing the now finished crown on top of your head. "They're cheerful and seeing them makes me feel at peace". His hand ran across your face before it rested against your jawline cupping it softly. "So delicate yet standing tall and with grace". Your eyelids fluttered shut as you absorbed his words. "With a pure heart radiating kindness like the sun radiating its light". A shy smile made its way across your lips. "So beautiful and gentle". He inched closer before capturing your lips.

"Sorry, I'm late". You rested your head on the cold gray marble. "I didn't find fresh daisies at the shop in our neighborhood, so I had to go elsewhere".

"And what kind of writer do you want to be?" Your eyebrows shot up in amusement. You took your time studying the handsome man sitting across from you. tall, tanned skin, vacant blue eyes, and unshaved shin.

With his eyes still fixed on his eventually cold cup of coffee, he answered. "The one that offers life". You chewed on your cheek to prevent the smile threatening to blossom.

That was the moment you fell hopelessly and helplessly in love with him.

Your eyes gazed at the clear blue sky. "Spring break is about to end," you breathed. "This year I will have freshmen and juniors. I can't wait to meet them". Your voice was soft yet filled with excitement. "I have already prepared a list of the books that I want to make them discover".

"Junichi, my dear, say hi to Asami". You squeezed his shoulder encouraging your five-year-old kid. "She's going to live with us, she will be your little sister".

A pair of dark, big eyes stared at you before they drifted to the young girl. "My sister?" He whispered. "I can play with her?" His eyes gleamed with excitement and brought you joy.

"Of course, my dear". you nodded.

"Things are fine, the kids are growing up fast. Junichi is obsessed with his new sister. They grew attached to each other during the past two months. Asami is a sweetheart; you would've gotten along so well and make me feel jealous". You let out a short laugh. "She loves reading too, she refuses to go to sleep unless I read her a story. And sometimes, Junichi volunteers to read for her. It's fascinating how fast he learns. He is getting better at reading and writing". Your smile grew wider when you remembered your children. "Oh, and he wants to learn to play chess, I bought him one yesterday. You should've seen the look in his eyes when he unwrapped it. He'll be turning 6 next month".

"I'm home". His deep monotone voice reached you from the house entrance before he stepped into the kitchen. "Curry?"

"Flavorful and spicy exactly how my man prefers it". you chanted before your lips met.

"What a lucky man". He commented once the kiss ended. "The house is suspiciously calm". he susurrated face still an inch away from yours. "Where are they?"

"Their room, I asked them to do their math assignments". You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Let us enjoy this calm a little". You whispered against his lips. but what the kids didn't notice was the subtle nod and glance exposing their places to the man in your arms.

Before they could move, he jumped pulling Sakura from behind the door. "One down". Followed by Yu and Katsumi who were hiding under the dining table. "Three".

"It's not fear! You cheated". Shinji rumbled when you glanced at the balcony where he was hiding. "You weren't supposed to help him!" He glared at you.

Your eyes narrowed. "I did exactly what you asked me to do". You pleaded. "I was trying to distract him so that you can take him down". You were doing your best to stifle your laughter.

Meanwhile, Kosuke was debating to break free from the redhead's grip. "And the last one is down". He spoke before setting the kid next to the others. "Giving up?" He inquired. He glanced at you and you joined them on the floor. "Seems like your ally surrendered".

He glanced at each one of you before he shrugged. "I guess I have to use some mafia-style torture". And he squeezed Yu's cheeks before pulling them gently. "So?" He glanced at the others before he kneeled in front of you. "Your ally is next". He wiggled his fingers. "She can't resist this one, are you willing to sacrifice her?"

"Don't!" you squeaked when his fingers touched your sides. "Kosuke, Katsumi please help". You cried when he closed his mouth around your nape. "No, not-not in front of the kids".

You took a deep, shaky breath. "I wish they had the chance to know you. I'm pretty sure they would've loved you".

"Can I remove it now?" you asked when the door clicked open. Seconds later, the darkness started vanishing as he uncovered your eyes. You blinked chasing away the blurry veil that coated your eyes before taking in the lovely sight offered to you. The spacious room was managed into a children's bedroom. "This is so beautiful". You gasped. "You did this?" You asked and he bobbed his head.

"The house is still exactly like you left it; the kids love it. I finally fixed the blue closet, the one you painted clouds and a sun on for the kids. I asked the school's art teacher to reproduce the same drawing and she did an excellent job".

"Look she's here". Dazai mourned. "Open your eyes Odasaku, you can't leave, not yet". He cried.

"My love". his voice was husky and barely audible. "I'm sorry, I won't be able to keep my promises". Tears flooded as you shook your head. "I can't write it…". he winced when he felt one of your tears rolling down his face. "I can no longer write a story". You pressed his head to your chest as silent tears continued streaming down your flushed cheeks. "I wish I could grow old with you and watch our kids live a happy and peaceful life. I'm… I'm sorry".

"Sakunosuke". Your voice broke when you called his name. through half-lidded eyes, the once cold and empty blue eyes stared at you with love. "You still can write one". You managed to gulp. "Up there, just make sure to save a copy for me, my beloved". He reached a shaking hand to brush away your tears.

"I'm sorry". He mumbled. "I…". he took a deep breath. "I fell in love with you the moment you smiled at me. It wasn't until I saw your smile that I understood the importance of life. Please, I want to see your beautiful smile. One last time". A relieved sigh left his pained chest when your lips quired up. "I love you".

"I love you too and I'll always will". You breathed before pressing your lips to his. When you pulled back, he was already gone, a soft smile adorning his pale face. You buried your face in his chest breathing in the familiar comforting smell. A wounded cry left your heaving chest as you mourned the love of your life.

You didn't notice Dazai's absence until he patted your shoulder. "Let's go". He spoke looking down. You covered his body with your scarf and followed the young port mafia member after you glanced one last time at the corpse of the man you love.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "I miss you, Sakunosuke". A single tear rolled down your cheek. "I hope you and the kids are happier up there and that you finally got to write a story. Please, save a copy for me, darling. Tell the kids I love them and that I always pray for them, I pray for all of you. Please, watch over us and give me the strength I need to raise them well". You buried your face in your hands sobbing quietly. Images from your dates, late-night conversations, picnics with the kids, and early-morning cuddles flashed in front of you.

You were laying on your back in the middle of the empty room with your lover’s head resting on your bare stomach.

You couldn’t hide your surprise when you found him waiting for you near the high school where you teach at the end of the day.

“Hi darling”. He greeted before printing a kiss on your forehead. “I have a surprise for you, come with me”.

After a twenty minutes’ walk you found yourself standing in front of an apartment complex. Puzzled, you glanced at him waiting for an explanation. He opened the door and turned to you. “Welcome home, my love”. your mouth dropped.

After visiting every room and talking about how you want to decorate each corner of the house, you made love in the middle of what’s going to be your bedroom. Your digits were buried in his hair, scratching his skull gently.

Feeling your body shivering underneath his body, he moved, resting your head on top of his chest and covering your body with a blanket. His heartbeats and the warmth radiating from his body lulled you to sleep.

Not a day passed without you wandering through those memories. Even though he’s no longer a part of this world, it almost felt like he never left. He was everywhere you looked, smiling at you and guiding your steps leading you out of the darkness surrounding you. but almosts are never enough. It wasn't enough to ease your pain. That alone couldn't fill the void he left behind him and that consumed you slowly. before you adopted Junichi and Asami your life was a living hell, a hell you dragged your previous companion into.

It was a Saturday morning; the kids were still asleep. You were enjoying the calm while sipping coffee and reading your book. You were so immersed in the story you didn’t notice his presence until he pecked your temple.

You looked up offering him your brightest smile. Your lips met once he set his cup of coffee and took a place next to you. the kiss was sweet and short and was followed by another one longer. He slipped a hand to grip your hip as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. One of your hands was pressed against his toned torso while the other was wrapped around his shoulder. You continued exchanging kisses pulling away only when you felt dizzy due to the lack of oxygen. Before you knew it, you were sitting on his lap, soft kisses growing sloppier and messier.

Tears finally dry, you felt a cold hand tapping your shoulder. "So, it's been you all along".

"Dazai". You breathed recognizing your lover's friend's voice. Your eyes were met with a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Here, I'm sure he hates seeing his sweetheart crying". He handed you a tissue. "So, the rumors were true. you did move back to Yokohama".

"Yes, I came back home a year ago". You whipped your tears before offering him a place to sit beside you.

He leaned against the gravestone as his eyes wandered around before focusing on you. "And how are you doing?" He inquired.

"I'm doing well. I have two kids, a six years old boy named Junichi. We have been living together for a year now. And a two years old girl, Asami, who joined our family two months prior. Just like him, they both love reading". You beamed caressing his name.

"Ah, you adopted them". A faint smile tugged up his mouth when you nodded. "Wouldn't expect less from Odasaku's girl".

"No, no, no, please stay with me. please, don't leave like your father. Please, I beg of you, stay". You fell to the floor sobbing hysterically as the crimson pool underneath you grew bigger.

"Yes, I lost the baby months after Saku's death". A veil of sadness draped your eyes when you remembered that particular may night. "I believe he chose to join his father". Not knowing how to respond he rubbed your back up and down.

"And where are you staying with the kids?" He asked once you regained composure.

"Our house". You replied smiling.

"You… you kept it?"

"Of course, I did. You think we would've still lived in there if he was still among us?"

"I highly doubt it since you would've had about 10 kids, plus me". He said laughing, you joined him.

"How about you Dazai? How are you doing?"

"Quite busy since I became the port mafia boss". Noticing the surprised look, he changed the subject. "Can I offer you a coffee?"

"How about you come home and have lunch with us". You cooed, hesitating as he rubbed the back of his head. "The kids will be home by noon. I'm pretty sure they would be happy to meet you". you added in order to convince him. "Please, Dazai it's been a long time since I cooked for you".

"No spicy food". He rose his hand.

“Why do you always have to add so much spices”. The dark-haired boy whined. “that’s the only thing I can taste”.

“I’m sorry, Sakunosuke didn’t tell me you were coming. Here, this will help”. You handed him a glass of milk. “I’ll make you something not spicy, just a second”. You held your finger before going through the fridge.

"No spicy food". You promised. You pressed your lips to his name before murmuring. "See you next week, my love".

During the drive home, Dazai told you about how he left the armed detective agency and became the port mafia's boss.

Entering the apartment, a couple of souvenirs crossed Dazai's mind. "It still feels the same". He mumbled before he followed you inside.

"The kids will be thrilled when they see you. they feel a bit lonely since we don't receive many visitors". You spoke while putting on your apron. "How about some miso soup, rice balls, and grilled salmon?" You inquired.

"As long as it's not too spicy".

"I don't cook spicy food anymore". You mumbled, noticing Dazai's pale expression you added in a more cheerful tone. "Want some sake?"

"Yes, please". He smiled sheepishly. "Would it be rude if I ask you what happened with your boyfriend?" he inquired a while later.

"Oh, Yushimasa". You let out looking down, you felt your cheeks' temperature rising as you busied yourself with dicing the vegetables. "He said he has no chance of beating a dead man and that he is tired of trying".

"He knew". Dazai gasped, eyebrows quirked.

You nodded. "I never knew about it but he once followed me to the cemetery". You started cutting the fish. "He kept everything to himself until that day. I was making launch when he came into the kitchen looking as if he was leading a rough battle. It was a Saturday noon, and as usual, I visited Sakunosuke. So, he came in and said that our story reminds him of a western song and then told me everything". You glanced at the dark-haired man sitting on the other side of the countertop.

A worn-out sigh left your lips, this looks nothing like the curry you used to make. You were stirring the content of the pot when you heard your partner clear his throat.

"It will be ready soon, could you please set the table?" you asked.

"There's a song I want you to listen to. It, pretty much sums up our story". Confused you asked him to play it before started making a salad.

I am everything you want

I am everything you need

I am everything inside of you

That you wish you could be

I say all the right things

At exactly the right time

But I mean nothing to you and I don't know why

The lyrics echoed in the kitchen. Startled you throw looks his way; he was sitting by the dining table smoking calmly, only his shaking hands betrayed how nervous he was. "There's no use in hiding it anymore, I know about him". he spoke when the melody finally faded. "I understand why you always sound off and you never look me in the eyes when we make love. I know where your mind wanders when we are together. I realize why you never told me you love me”. he paused, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “for a long time, I mistook whatever you felt toward me for love. I somehow convinced myself that it's your shy nature that is keeping you from verbalizing your feeling and being more demonstrative". He took a long drag before he continued. "I didn't want to rush you or make you feel uncomfortable around me. so, I sat and waited patiently for you to overcome whatever was keeping you from loving me properly". He ran a hand across his face before taking another drag. "But then a friend told me that maybe you were having an affair. I laughed at him at first and said he is being ridiculous. But there was this Saturday morning thing. You always go out around the same time without saying where you are heading. And you never asked me to accompany you". you ceased moving and stood still listening to him. "I'm sorry but I couldn't take it anymore so I followed you". a bitter laugh left his chest. "I know I shouldn't do such a thing but… There were lots of questions and they were eating me alive. I had to know, I had to". His eyes trailed on your frozen figure before he dragged them away. "I had to know what was keeping us -what's keeping you- from being happy". He squeezed his eyes shut breathing in the nicotine before he resumed. "And there you were sitting next to his grave crying with your head resting against the tombstone".

"You never stopped loving him, didn't you?" Dazai's voice brought you back to the present time.

"I think you are best fitted to know that Sakunosuke is the kind of person who marks your heart and soul forever".

He took one last drag before crashing his cigarette. "I was a fool for believing that if I showed you how much I love and care for you, you might end up forgetting him. I never had a chance, since the very start". He looked up at you, a pained smile on his face. "I was being selfish. Forcing you to keep on doing this, expecting things from you when I knew your heart belongs to someone else. I can't do this any longer. I can't ignore his presence anymore. I can't pretend I don't see it in your eyes". Another dry chuckle left his quivering lips. "You never stopped loving him, not once. And I know I can't compete with him. I can never win your heart. I have already packed my stuff. I'll leave after launch. I would love to share one last meal with you if it doesn't bother you".

"Of course, I still love him and will always do. How can I forget what is inked in my soul? It has always been him and it always will be".

"What happened next?"

"Well, he said he is tired of pretending to be oblivious and not understanding that my heart belongs to someone else. He said that when he saw me crying and talking to the gravestone, he put two and two together and understood everything". You closed your eyes letting your souvenirs submerge you.

"There's no need to". These were the first words that came out of you. and for a split second, relief washed over him before he heard your next words. "I have a place to go to. A home back at Yokohama". The way his face twitched in pain crushed your soul. you could've sworn you heard his heart crack when those words dropped from you and you hated yourself for putting him through this.

"He kindly offered to move out and leave me the house. But I refused, I told him I already have a place I call home and that I'm going back there. I believe he made the right choice and I’m thankful to him". You smiled at the tall brunette. "I was finally able to breathe again and to continue to cherish my beloved's memory without feeling guilty. For the first time in years, I felt free. I was finally able to stop pretending and stop faking smiles. During three years, I had to pretend that I was happy, that that was the life I wanted to live, and that seeing how miserable he was because of me wasn't killing me. You know I can still feel his presence around me. Saku never left me, he is still here looking after me and our children". Noticing Dazai's puzzled expression you explained. "I never removed my name from the family registry. And when I adopted the kids, I added them there. so, officially they are Junichi and Asami Oda".

"I'm sorry you had to deal with all of this". Dazai spoke. "But why you never asked for my help?" A soft smile break through your face. Dazai has always held a special place in your heart. "You can always come for me if you or one of the kids need anything. I would be more than happy to help Odasaku's family".

"I know Dazai, I know. But you were going through a lot and I didn't want to bother you".

"Ah, ah, aaaah easy with that". He squealed; his reaction brought you pleasant memories. You remembered his flushed face each time you invited him when Odasaku did the cooking. You would listen to him going about how he always gets on chuuya's nerves. Just like Odasaku, you always enjoy Dazai's storytelling. You have always wished you could do more to help him. for both you and Odasaku, Dazai is like a son.

"Don't worry these are not spicy". You reassured him. "The kids will be here anytime soon". You added when you glanced at the clock on the wall. Like they were listening, the sound of the doorbell resonated in the house. "Hi babies, we have a guest today. Junichi darling, go greet uncle Dazai after you wash your hands". You took Asami from your sister. "Do you want to come in? I made a cake this morning". you asked her.

"Sorry, I have to go grocery shopping. Maybe next time?" She pressed a loving kiss on the tip of your daughter's nose before she left. Going back inside you found Dazai and your son have already become friends.

"Meet Asami Oda". You spoke in a cheerful voice which caused Dazai to smile fondly. "Do you want to hold her? It will be alright, just follow my instructions". You tried to encourage him when his eyes narrowed in worry.

"Please Odasaku don't kill me if I drop her". He mumbled holding your baby. "At least, do it gently". His last words made you laugh so hard.

"Place a hand behind her back. Like that. See, I told you it's easy". When his eyes met your child's, she smiled and him before ruffling his soft locks. "Apparently, she loves you. make sure you don't break her heart". You taunted.

"I sure won't. no one wants to deal with an angry Odasaku". He joked.

He was bumping the young girl when you spoke. "Be nice to him baby girl, he's papa's dear friend". he felt his heart stop when you refer to Odasaku as the father of your kids. Looking at you, he realized that if anyone was suffering from his friend's absence more than him, that person must be you.

"Mama, can I show uncle Dazai my chess game?" Junichi asked tucking at your apron.

"Of course, darling. Do you know where it is?" He nodded visibly happy before running to get it. "Careful not to fall". You called for him. "You sure are popular among the Oda's". you commented. "Try to come more often, please. I'm sure that will make both of them happy, especially him. He needs a masculine presence and another person telling him stories about the father he didn't have the chance to know". Your eyes swam with tears. "You are always welcome here, Dazai".

"I would love to. I have plenty of stories to tell about Odasaku". He took a sip from his sake. "What about Ango? Have you seen him?"

"We are in touch. He paid me a visit when he heard I was back and helped register the kids under Saku's name. he took care of all the formalities and helped me find a job but he never met the kids. You are the only one from Sakunosuke's friends and acquaintances who did". You took Asami from him and put her in her play space. "There you go". You patted her head before taking a place by the countertop. You took a sip from the tea you made and stared at him for a while. "I'm glad you took off the bandages that were covering your face. You have a beautiful face don't hide it again".

"If it helps find a beautiful girl who is willing to commit double suicide with me, I won't". you stifled a laugh. "Do you intend to stay here?" you nodded. After a brief silence, he called your name. "I never told this to Odasaku… but you are the parents I always wished I had". His words brought you tears. you reached your hands and squeezed his.

You still remember the day Odasaku told you about the kind of life Dazai has and it broke your heart to pieces. With a flushed face and soaked with tears, you asked your lover many times to convince him to come live with you which he did, on many occasions but Dazai refused each time.

"I already consider you as their old brother, we always did -Saku and I- that's why I want them to get to know you. just no talking about the new technics you discover around them, okay?" you winked.

"I promise". He rose his hand. he waited until the kid was out of earshot. "I miss him too. I'm sorry I couldn't save him. I'm sorry I didn't stop him. if only I arrived minutes earlier".

"It's not your fault, I mean it. don't blame yourself for something you haven't done. I don't think he would appreciate you doing it, and I don't appreciate either. continue doing good things as he asked you, and continue helping make the world a better place". You gently caressed his hair putting on a brave smile. "And honor his memory".

After Dazai left in the afternoon, you addressed a silent prayer and asked for him to be relieved of the heavy burden he carries. you prayed that one day the sad boy covered with bandages finally finds happiness. the same kind of happiness you felt beside your lover. You kneeled and prayed for Odasaku and the kids' souls, you prayed for Junichi and Asami and you prayed for more strength and courage to keep on living in a world without the man you love.

#odasaku x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs odasaku #Dazai Osamu #bsd fanfic #Oda Sakunosuke #bsd odasaku #dark era bsd #port mafia boss dazai #bsd

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coulsons-fullmetal-cellist · 7 months

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Operation Sleepy Hollow

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 1, 789

Summary: you and Dieter go somewhere special for your two-year anniversary and Dieter has something extra special planned

Warnings: failed proposals but not what you think, body injury, crazy shenanigans, Dieter being Dieter and lots of adorable fluff and some fun history! I did lots of research but if I got anything wrong, please let me know!

Check out masterlist here

Dieter looked again at the small box made out to be the key from The Mummy. He’d lost count of how many times he’d sneak a look at it over the past year. He was hoping to go through Operation Sleepy Hollow: take girlfriend to a place she’d enjoy for anniversary, propose in romantic spot, spend the night making passionate love, best boyfriend award guaranteed.

For your second-year anniversary, you were going to a place you’d enjoy, somewhere you always wanted to go: Sleepy Hollow, New York. Originally called North Tarrytown, it changed its name to Sleepy Hollow in 1996. It came to popularity but Washington Irving’s ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’ where the author now lays to rest in the cemetery.

Still having time before checking in, you went to Tarrytown in order to just wander around the picturesque town. The Tarrytown Music Hall wasn’t open, but it was still beautiful in its exterior and Dieter adored any historic exterior and so adored this town. After lunch, you went to the Sleepy Hollow Souvenir Store and tried to not buy so much.

Dieter insisted you splash out for accommodation, so you were spending two nights at the Castle Hotel and Spa. The room was lavish with a four-poster bed and fireplace. Wrapping his arms around you, Dieter insisted on immediately trying out the bed.

As you had planned a few nighttime festivities such as the Pumpkin Museum of Art, the Pumpkin Carousel, the Pumpkin Windmill, and the Pumpkin Planetarium, you saw no problem in this.

*****

The following morning, you had breakfast at the Headless Bagel, purely because of its name. After picking up some Halloween themed pastries from a bakery, came all the walking. Starting on Beekman Avenue, you made your way along the Hudson River to find the lighthouse which was built in 1883. You then made your way to the Sleepy Hollow, originally the Tarrytown cemetery which changed its name to the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery to honour author Washington Irving. His monument was protected from picky tourists, but you went to honour him in passing. You found the Headless Horseman sculpture before making your way to the bridge. It wasn’t the bridge that was in the film or from the folktale as that was now a modern bridge commissioned by the Rockefeller family and now has a placard stating its historic location. This bridge was a beautiful wooden one and hauntingly romantic.

This was the perfect location for Dieter to propose. It didn’t want to do it on the bridge as he didn’t trust himself not to fall into the river. He waited until you both crossed the bridge. Your back was to him the moment he got down on one knee, he moved to get the ring out of his jacket pocket when something caught his eye.

“Ah! A snake!”

It was at this point you turned around to find your boyfriend running towards you in fear. He sort of glomped you but had enough sense to not fall to the ground. He pointed to where he thought he saw the supposed snake. You looked over to where he was pointing but only saw a stick.

He felt embarrassed at the blunder but was soon replaced by sadness that he missed out on the perfect opportunity to propose but he shook it off.

The next location the Union Church of Pocantico Hills held the last works by Henry Matisse. Dieter was mesmerised by the stained-glass windows, and he quietly explained the story of how Nelson Rockefeller commissioned the artwork for his late wife, Abby in 1948. He pointed out the Rose Window, Matisse’s last work and the nine windows which were designed by Marc Chagill, a Belarusian-French artist you hadn’t heard of, but you certainly found the windows beautiful.

It certainly cheered Dieter up and he thought of going to Plan B of Operation Sleepy Hollow: propose over a romantic candlelit dinner followed by a night of passionate lovemaking, bagging best boyfriend award in the process.

*****

After lunch, you went back to the hotel for a break before dinner. You had made your way to the bathroom, so Dieter knelt down to untie his shoelaces; he had the sudden thought of relocating the ring box, so he reached over to get it from his jacket but then something broke.

You heard a pained scream and rushed out of the bathroom. Dieter was on his knees unable to move with tears streaming out of his eyes. He was taking short breaths as moving any part of his body was causing immense pain.

“What happened?”

“My back!” he gasped. “My back!”

You put a hand to his chest, “Let’s try and get you up, okay?”

Putting hands under his armpits, you managed to get him sitting on the edge of the bed. You took his shoes off with no problem.

“I’m going to give you a painkiller, okay?”

He didn’t nod as he feared it would cause pain, but you gathered from his whimper that he consented, so you managed to administer it.

“Now I need to take your pants off.”

It was a gruelling experience for Dieter and the whole time he was whimpering in pain and mumbling how the removal of clothes should be sexy, but you managed to get him down to his boxers and lying face down on the bed. Leaving him for a few seconds, you came back from the bathroom with a hot towel and placed it on his back. He settled down after a few moans of pain. His back was very tense and twitched whenever you touched it.

The painkiller must have kicked in or the hot towel was working but Dieter was soon feeling less pain in his back. Soon after he felt a cooling sensation, the towel was removed from his back, and you were rubbing something in.

“What is that?” he asked.

“It’s Tiger Balm, it’s really good for muscle pain.”

He gave a groan of approval and soon you heard him snoring softly.

*****

Dieter woke up sometime later, he didn’t dare try moving and he worried that his back would flare up again, so he stayed where he was. He managed to follow you with his eyes as you came back into the room.

“How are you feeling?”

“A bit stiff,” he mumbled.

“Well, you are going to have a deep tissue massage tomorrow morning. I went down to the front desk and booked you in while I cancelled out dinner.”

“You did?” you nodded. “But what about the Farmers Market?”

“I can do that on my own. I don’t think you’d survive all that walking.”

He grumbled in agreement, “Unless there was lots of sitting.”

“Do you think you could handle sitting now?” He gave a mumble in place of a shrug, so you managed to slowly get him to stand up. After putting on his teddy bear coat, you moved him to a chair with good back support and placed an ottoman under his feet. He grumbled his thanks.

“I’m sorry I ruined our anniversary.”

“You didn’t ruin it, it’s not your fault your back died on you.”

“But we were going to have a romantic dinner and…” he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Have a night of passionate lovemaking?”

Dieter almost started crying at the thought of all that was being missed out.

“We could try,” he shyly suggested.

“Sex won’t fix your sore back; it might make it worse.”

“It might. If I lie down the whole time and you can sit on my-“

“We’re not risking anything,” he pouted. “We can do gifts?”

He wiggled his toes in excitement, “Yes, let’s do presents!”

You moved over to where your bags were. Pulling out your present for Dieter, you moved over to his bag. He stopped you opening it, just letting you carry the whole bag over to him. Pulling out a wrapped gift, he handed it to you while you put his bag away and put your gift in his lap.

He gleefully but carefully unwrapped his present to reveal the glorious tie-die beneath.

“I’m Kenough?!” he held up the hoodie. “I love it!”

It was now time to unwrap your gift; it was a book.

“Making the Monster: The Science Behind Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.”

“I figured you might want to learn all the history science stuff behind your favourite book.”

You hugged the book close to you and made your way over to Dieter in order to plant a giant kiss on his cheek. You gently hugged him.

“I love it! I’ll not to read it all in one sitting.”

“You want to read it now, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but how about some room service?”

*****

“How was the massage?”

“Amazing! My back is still stiff, but it doesn’t hurt like hell anymore,” he was sitting in the armchair donned in his new favourite hoodie. “How was the Farmers Market?”

“Amazing! So much lovely produce! I could’ve bought one of everything, but I don’t know if I can bring back fresh produce.”

“We’re in the same country.”

“Yeah, but isn’t there a rule about bringing food across state lines?”

“I don’t think so.”

You hmphed, “I guess it’s just an Australian thing. But I got lots of other great things!”

You pulled things out of your tote to show your smiling boyfriend: jams, soaps, various baked goods as well as…

“Cheese?”

“You bet I got cheese! If I can’t bring it back with me, I’ll eat it all on the spot.”

“I think you can bring it with us.”

“I also got you a handmade heat pack. They told me that when it heats up, it smells like pancakes.”

“So I’ll smell like pancakes?” he loved the thought.

You were surprised you still had room in your suitcase after all your purchases, but you managed to fit everything in. Thankfully, Dieter brought his trusty Crocs with him, so he didn’t have to endure the thought of how he was going to put his footwear on.

The hotel staff were very helpful in getting your luggage and Dieter into the car and soon, you were both on your way back to New York City.

As Dieter watched the trees go flying past, his mind began to wander; he was rethinking his proposal plan. Halloween was approaching and you were both heading to a fancy costumed ball. It would be the perfect opportunity to propose as it was your favourite time of the year so you would already be in a happy mood. So now it was Operation Halloween Proposal: dress up and go to romantic themed ball, propose in super romantic setting, spend the night making passionate love, best boyfriend award guaranteed.

Films referenced: The Mummy (1999), Sleepy Hollow (1999), Barbie (2023)

Book referenced:

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @brilliantopposite187 @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dieter x honey cakes #love of horror fanfic #love of horror #dieter x reader #dieter bravo #the bubble netflix #the bubble

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dailyunsolvedmysteries · 1 year

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The Mysterious Murder of the Beautiful Cigar Girl

The mysterious murder of Mary Rogers, known in the penny press as the “Beautiful Cigar Girl,” in the summer of 1841 remains one of New York City’s most infamous unsolved cases. Even Edgar Allan Poe took a crack at solving it, yet while her ghost is said to have visited the numerous suspects that the press circled after the beautiful young lady’s death, the truth of the grisly crime is still as murky as the Hudson River waters where her corpse was found.

In 1838, John Anderson, who owned a tobacco shop on Broadway in Lower Manhattan, hired Mary Rogers to stand at his counter purely to allure gentleman customers. It worked, and the dark haired beauty who was described as ”ethereal and hypnotically pleasing” made Anderson’s Tobacco Emporium one of the most popular in town. It had a regular clientele of notable figures like Washington Irving and, it’s stated, Poe himself, as well as a cavalcade of journalists, which would help to get her gruesome end its high profile in the press.

One day in October of 1838, Rogers went missing. Two weeks later, she suddenly reappeared, and many thought that Anderson had staged the disappearance for publicity. Rogers’ adoring fans swarmed the shop, and she soon felt overwhelmed and left to work in her mother’s boarding shop. Yet in July of 1841, she went missing again, and this time two men on the shore of New Jersey spotted her floating near Sybil’s Cave.

Built in 1832 to connect to a natural spring, Sybil’s Cave once offered cool water to visitors to the Hoboken shore. The visitors have long vanished, but in 2007 a new gate was built in front of the manmade cave. It’s here that many believe Rogers was murdered, although how is still a matter of speculation. The bruises on her body and ligature on her throat suggested gang violence or a vengeful lover (one of her many suitors, perhaps). From when her swollen remains were pulled from the water, each new clue or suspect was breathlessly reported in the tabloids, and the public loved it, buying the papers in an unprecedented frenzy.

The attention, not surprisingly, took its toll on the people involved, particularly her fiancé Daniel Payne, who had a solid alibi, but was hounded by the press nonetheless. He was discovered near Sybil’s Cave dead from an apparent suicide by poison, with a note reading: “To the World - here I am on the very spot. May God forgive me for my misspent life.”

The rampant press also inspired Edgar Allan Poe, who had his own theories about the case. In his story “The Mystery of Marie Rogêt,” he not so subtly changed the details to Paris with a murder victim named Marie Rogêt. While his detective C. Auguste Dupin speculated on many suspects, he never settled on one, although Poe studiously kept updating the story with new evidence. It’s considered to be the first work of fiction that used a real murder as its source material.

One suspect, Anderson himself, was speculated to have had his amorous advances rejected by Rogers. Although he’s buried in Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, he died in 1881 in Paris, claiming to his last days that he was being tormented by her ghost. Payne also claimed to have seen the slender Rogers as a specter.

A later theory came from the deathbed of a tavern owner near Sybil’s Cave, who, after accidentally being shot by her son, gasped out that Rogers had actually died from a botched abortion. Some have theorized that this was done by the infamous Madame Restell, an early abortionist who practiced while it was still a felony. Restell would cut her own throat in her bathtub in 1878, and she’s now interred in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.

It’s likely the mystery of who killed Mary Rogers that summer night will never be solved, although you can retrace her last steps yourself at the ruins of Sybil’s Cave, and wander to the final resting place of her employer in Green-Wood Cemetery, where he is perhaps resting in fitful peace with the ghost of the girl who once bewitched the city to his shop.

#mary rogers #unsolved mysteries #cold cases #true crime #crime

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historyfiles · 9 months

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American Lives: Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

When Washington Irving published 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow' in 1820, he forever blessed - or cursed - the town of Sleepy Hollow, turning a modest cemetery in the Hudson Valley into a tourist attraction.

#history #historyfiles #american lives #sleepy hollow #cemetery #cemeteries #new york state #new york #usa #photos #photo #hudson valley #legend of sleepy hollow #washington irving

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scotianostra · 5 months

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On November 25 1835 the steel magnate and philanthropist, Andrew Carnegie, was born in Dunfermline.

Carnegie's name is synonymous with big business and large-scale philanthropic endeavour. Andrew Carnegie was the son of a poor weaver from Dunfermline who amassed the largest fortune ever seen before his death in 1919.

It was from the small harbour in the Fife coastal village of Charlestown that the young Carnegie left Scotland along with his family in 1848. His father, William, a handloom weaver from Dunfermline, decided to relocate to Allegheny, Pennsylvania, in the hope of a better life.

Carnegie was a ruthless and gifted businessman. By 1899 his companies controlled 25 per of American steel production at a time when demand for the building material was growing at unprededented rates. The subsequent almagmalation in 1901 of the four big American steel companies made Carnegie the richest man in the world, and allowed him to give away more $350 million dollars - half a billion in toda

y’s money - in his lifetime.

Carnegie famously wrote that “the man who dies rich dies disgraced”. He further elaborated his theory of philanthropy, known as the Carnegie dictum. It called for individuals to spend the first third of one’s life getting all the education one can, to then spend the next third making all the money one can, and finally to spend the last third giving it all away for worthwhile causes.

Towns across the UK and Ireland benefited from public libraries paid for by Carnegie and his charitable trusts. Among the other institutions founded in his name is New York’s famous Carnegie Hall, a venue considered to be among the most prestigious in the world. A more modest venue with the same name stands in his home town Dunfermline, allowing generations of less well-known performers and local school children to claim that they too have performed at Carnegie Hall.

The remains of a dinosaur - Diplodocus carnegiei - were named after the philanthropist in 1901. He sponsored an expedition led by John Bell Hatcher which found the near complete skeleton in in the Morrison Formation in Utah. Carnegie paid for casts of the dinosaur to be displayed at museums around the world

The inscription on Andrew Carnegie’s gravestone reads: “Here lies a man who knew how to enlist the service of better men than himself.” He was buried at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in North Tarrytown, New York.

#scotland #scottish #history #philanthropy #fifer

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dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd · 8 months

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The Mysterious Murder of the Beautiful Cigar Girl

#mary rogers #unsolved mysteries #cold cases #true crime #crime

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bunnywan · 29 days

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the nicole dollanganger ref in ur latest fic makes me thinkk… do u have any nicole songs u think are super obikin/vaderwan coded ? personallyy i think married in mount airy is particularly crazy in terms of the vader of it all<3

someone got the reference !!! i was listening to that album so much while i was writing i couldn’t not mention it. i think married in mount airy (the whole album really) is sooooo obi-wan attic wife coded. “dog teeth” is also very anakin to me. the line “he handed me a pair of pliers, and he told me to pull out his teeth” always reminds me of the sw novel (i forget which one) where anakin begs obi-wan to take the force away from him. a few of my other favorites are snake, 700 club, and sleepy towns & cemeteries.

#thank u for asking me this. i could go on forever.#anon asks

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memorycare · 5 months

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ending the year on a high note

#audio #♥︎

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mask131 · 2 years

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Deadly fall: The Headless Horseman

THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN

Category: American literature and European folklore

Everybody knows the “Headless Horseman”. He is an archetypal character of ghost stories in America. But do you really know the Horseman?

The actual character of the “Headless Horseman” everybody knows thanks to American media comes from a short story of Gothic literature, written by Washington Irving and published in 1819: “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”. This story depicts a fictional version of the actual town of Sleepy Hollow, renowned in-universe for its creepy atmosphere and numerous ghost stories – a “haunting” town filled with stories of spells and supernatural, in which mysterious events and strange sights are an everyday matter. Most famous and dreaded of all the ghosts said to haunt Sleepy Hollow, and the “leader” of the dark aerial powers of the town, is the “Headless Horseman”, a Hessian trooper during the American Revolutionary War, decapitated by an American cannonball: since his skull had been shattered into pieces scattered across the battlefield, his comrades simply buried his headless body in the cemetery of the “Old Dutch Church” of Sleepy Hollow (as Sleepy Hollow is located near Tarry Town, a formerly Dutch settlement). Ever since, the headless ghost has been said to ride around Sleepy Hollow, seeking his lost head and doing malevolent things to whoever crossed his path. The main protagonist of the story, Professor Ichabod Crane, happens to meet a headless rider at night and manages to flee the ghoul, before disappearing from town – but unlike what many people mis-remember today, it isn’t actually the ghost of the Horseman. Rather, what the story strongly implies and hints is that this “Headless Horseman” is just a costume that was put on by a mischievous love rival of Crane, who played with the professor’s naturally superstitious and frightful nature to drive him out of town. The real mystery of the story is not who the Headless Horseman was – but rather what happened to the professor Crane, last seen fleeing for his life, and then vanished into thin air.

This story became MASSIVELY popular, and like everything Irving wrote, part of America’s classical literature. The story (and the Headless Horseman) were notably popularized by two film adaptations: one, animated, by Disney in 1949, and another, live-action, by Tim Burton in 1999. All these adaptations notably worked into “shaping” the Sleepy Hollow story into a Halloween one. The original text of Irving had no clear mentions of Halloween – it was however a Gothic ghost story, whose climax happened during the night of an autumnal harvest feast in which guests had exchanged creepy stories, and the fake Horseman uses a pumpkin to imitate the action of holding a human head. Of course, this led people to reinterpret the story as Ichabod Crane meeting the Headless Horseman during Halloween night, and the Horseman as wielding a Jack-o-lantern as a head replacement/weapon. Some people even rewrote the Horseman’s death to be on Halloween – when in the actual text, the Hessian soldier was said to have died in the Battle of the White Plains, in October yes, but the 28th only.

But here is the thing… While everybody refers to Irving’s story for “building” the Headless Horseman myth, and associates the Headless Horseman with Sleeping Hollow, in truth Irving did not “invent” the legend. The figure of the Headless Horseman is far older than the “Legend of Sleepy Hollow”. Irving always did extensive research before writing his texts, and never invented anything out of thin air: and so it is highly probable he created the legend of Sleepy Hollow’s horseman based on actual ghost tales going around the area. After all, we know that before Irving brought him to America, the “headless horseman” was a traditional European ghost. Scottish and English tales thrived with headless ghosts – not always riders (for example, due to the use of decapitation, numerous royal ghosts in old castles were said to carry their head in their arms), but sometimes riders indeed. These tales of “headless riders” usually depicted these ghosts as warning apparitions, ill omens that people should not ignore – in fact, these tales often depicted men too proud or too arrogant to read the supernatural signs, and ignoring these warnings about their impending downfall. There were even tales of ghosts riding headless horses, or of entire carriages with headless ghosts, drivers AND passengers! It is variations of the “death coach” myth, or Coiste Bodhar (silent coach), about a black coach with a headless driver that appears to people about to die or who know someone who will die.

The headless horsemen didn’t stop to just the British Isles: they also existed in Germany, where headless horsemen were just a recurring type of ghosts. They were the spirits of sinners, doomed to wander and haunt the earth until they had atoned from their sins – and they did so by doing good deeds for the people they met along the road. However, once the service was given, you should NEVER thank the headless spirit by shaking his hand – it would mean your doom, for the physical touch of a headless rider is deadly. Rather, the living person should take a tree branch between them and the ghost – so that the branch would wither and die, but not them.

But the most famous European incarnation of the Headless Horseman myth stays without a doubt the dullahan of Irish mythology/folklore. The Dullahan is a dangerous supernatural entity from the Otherworld, which means that it is at the same time a fairy, a ghost and a demon (Irish people did not really draw the line between inhuman magical creatures such as fairies and supernatural manifestations of humans such as ghosts). The dullahan is a headless rider on a black horse, with a whip made of a human spine in one hand, and his own cut head in his other hand – it is a horrible head, with a disturbing grin going from ear to ear, and constantly moving eyes that spy on everything around him. Meeting him means that you will surely die, for if he calls out your name and catch you, he will take away your soul and leave your corpse behind: the saying went “when the dullahan stops riding, someone will die”. Some variations of the legend even have him being the driver of a “death coach”, appearing as a wagon made of human bones and human skin, with candles placed in skulls to light it up.

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Interestingly, Sleepy Hollow isn’t the only “classical” literary manifestation of a Headless Horseman in American. Forgotten today but popular in his time, there was a novel called “The Headless Horseman” and written by Mayne Reid, which was serialized from 1865 to 1866, and took place in Texas. “The Headless Horseman or a Strange Tale of Texas” takes place after the War of Mexico, and tells the story of the “Southern belle” of the Poindexter plantation, who is courted by two men and torn between two possible love options: Maurice Gerald (dashing and wonderful, but poor) and Cassius Calhoun (arrogant and aggressive, but rich!). What could be a simple love story becomes more complicated when the belle’s brother is murdered, with all clues pointing to Gerald, and when a strange headless horseman is sighted at the edge of the plantation…

This time, the author admitted to have taken the headless horseman idea from a “traditional folk tale from the south of Texas” – and while the story was forgotten by most Americans, it was not forgotten by Russians! Mostly because the famous Vladimir Nabokov wrote of this novel as one of his “favorite childhood stories”: by eleven years old he had translated the story into French! And IN VERSE! It is telling that the only movie adaptation of this novel was a coproduction between the Soviet Union and Cuba.

#deadly fall #headless horseman #the headless horseman #sleepy hollow #american literature #european folklore #ghosts #european ghosts

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