What if all of humanity was seconds from annihilation and it was only me and my 3 students fighting to stop it but i couldn't help looking back at my childhood friend/forever idol/current enemy and saying his name wistfully?
In life, Elizabeth was a child of artistic aspirations with an ever expanding curiosity. An extroverted child by nature, but quite introverted when talking to others. She was also quite intelligent and calculated, more than some were willing to admit.
Was always called a ‘Mommy's Girls’, the kind of daughter any mother would want to have. But the person she always wished to impress, to be loved by, was her father. I mean, every child would wish to be loved by both their parents at at least one point in their life.
This desire to be loved would soon shift to a need to please, after she impressed him with something she had created.
He even decide to make that creation of hers into the star attraction of his main project. Isn't that sweet.
I just don't think Elizabeth would have expected Afton to build her creation the way he had.
Now, to outsiders, Elizabeth's desire to please Afton may seem strange, if not completely weird, but to her, it makes complete sense. If someone who is meant to love and care for you doesn't even really acknowledge you, finally gives you an ounce of that love you are going to try hard to experience that again, even at the expense of your own health and safety.
But as Elizabeth aged, her curiosity began to overshadow this desire to please. She saught out more in life, specifically in seeing a certain red and white clown that her father forbid her from seeing for reasons he never spoke of.
Disobeying her father willingly for the first time, she went to see her creation.
In doing this, she would be captured by Circus Baby and killed by the Scooper.
Now, in death, Elizabeth haunts the facility she had been experimented on and trapped in and will stop at nothing to escape even if she has to "die" over and over and over again.
Here is some Elizabeth Ghost info, so you can have a basic idea of what she is capable of.
Elizabeth, having been experimented on, with her Remnant being injected into the main 4 funtimes, she is given almost complete free rain over the facility. She's a poltergeist, unlike the other souls in FNAF.
She has a corporeal form called "Silhouette Circus Baby", she's like shadow freddy but has an ability to mimic people's shadows for a bit of time
Elizabeth can temporarily hijack Handunit and the security system. This takes up a lot of energy so she doesn't do it often.
Elizabeth can take control over the other funtimes, but only temporarily. She only does this to make things go the way Circus Baby and Elizabeth want.
Also, here is Living and Dead Elizabeth color palette, just in case you ever want to do fanart of them.
hi kaia!! hope you’re doing well! i saw your sticky & sweet event and wanted to give it a whirl, so may i request a parfait, cheesecake bar, cinnamon roll and lemon drop with whipped cream? all for sabo please (:
i’ve requested sabo from you before and i loved reading it a lot… tbh i love all your writing and i’ve reread a few a couple times! <33 your writing truly never disappoints ;;; (also congrats on the 555+ followers!) anyway i hope you have an amazing day/night :D
hiii angel 💕 ty for being patient and thank you for requesting sabo (again!) i love him so so so much. wrote smth cute & sweet for you 🥰️ and thank you, i'm still kind of in awe that so many ppl follow this blog but i'm grateful all the same 😊 also ur too cute, i'm so happy you've reread my work 💗
1.7k words, gn reader (no pronouns), sfw, 18+, mdni; fluffy fluff (surprise, surprise), tiny bit of angst & slightly suggestive, but nothing serious, established relationship (sort of); sabo is terrible with time management & reader needs to let go & live a little.
a warm breeze wraps itself around your ankles as you walk barefoot through the sand, your sandals tucked safely in your bag, moonlight gradually caressing your exposed shoulders. you look up at the sky and sigh, annoyance sullying your mood as you check your watch again.
two hours late, your lips tug downward as you stand near the water, the tide periodically tickling your feet. you remind yourself to be a little more patient, to have a bit of faith, to just keep waiting.
it’s not unusual for him to run behind, but there’s always a nasty little thought in the back of your mind telling you that this is all for naught, that you’ll be stood up, and that you waited for nothing. when you arrived home from work earlier, there was a note waiting for you on your kitchen table — if you weren’t already so used to finding scrap pieces of parchment tacked onto various surfaces in your home, you’d be concerned.
the scrawl is messy, slightly illegible, but you’d recognize it anywhere.
a small wave of anxiety washes over you, makes your stomach and heart hurt — and you wish you would’ve taken your grandmother’s advice and stayed home. there’s no logical reason for you to continuously place your heart in the hands of a man who comes and goes as he pleases; it’s masochism, it has to be, but you do it anyway — without question, without any hesitation. the hold he has on you is a double-edged sword, except you’re the only one who suffers.
doubt settles in the pit of your chest, wrapping its talons around each individual rib bone, tugging, and tugging until your vision blurs. your teeth sink into your bottom lip when you hear footsteps behind you. there’s no need for you to turn around, not when the ocean has quieted down, leaving you to scrape together your thoughts — the ones that drown underneath the thunderous beating of your heart.
a sigh flits out of your mouth, takes flight, coasts carelessly along the wind and slaps him in the face. because you’re stubborn and annoyed, you don’t look back at him. “you’re late.” you do your best to keep your voice steady, tone even — you don’t need him digging and trying to weasel his way out of accepting responsibility.
not that he’d ever do that, but still.
he rubs a gloved hand against the back of his neck, runs through the various excuses that stack neatly inside of his mind; he truly hadn’t meant to keep you waiting. he explicitly told his team that he had somewhere to be, but the briefing went on longer than expected and, naturally, he lost track of time. in his hand is a small box, and while he knows you’re not exactly happy, he can, at the very least, lift your spirits just a tiny bit with his peace offering.
“time is a man-made construct,” he offers in lieu of a greeting, lips quirking upward as he moves closer to you and extends the box warily. you take it without thinking, casting him a sharp glance before softening your features.
“i’m mad at you,” you say quietly and start walking away from the water; his strides are quick and purposeful, so he keeps up with your gait easily.
“they’re chocolate cream puffs,” he adds, which, unfortunately, brings a small smile to your face. they’re your favorite, and he knows that the best way to get back on your good side, is with a tasty treat.
pressing your lips together you look up at him and sigh again — it seems all you do lately is sigh. “you can’t just bribe me with pastries.” it’s not true, he’s done it plenty of times before. you accept the gift each time, but you know if you don’t put your foot down now, you’ll be stuck in the same situation for the rest of your life.
“if you tell me to meet you at eight, that means you should also be here at eight.” your voice, while stern and full of irritation, is still pleasant to listen to — especially after the day he’s had.
“i’m sorry,” sabo says sheepishly, cheeks flushing lightly; and he does, in fact, have the decency to look apologetic. “you know…how it is.” his reasoning is intentionally vague, and you don’t press him for more; because you do understand. it’s dangerous for him to be out like this in public, but because he doesn’t get to see you that often, he doesn’t mind the risk. you remind yourself of this when you lead him to the large blanket you laid out and sit down unceremoniously.
sabo left his hat and coat behind, not wanting to draw attention as he walked about; at some point he removed his gloves and covertly placed them into your bag for safekeeping. he watches as you lounge comfortably, drop your bag onto the blanket next to you, and place the pastry box on your lap. despite what you said earlier about being mad at him, that all dissipates as soon as you take a bite into one of the cream puffs.
“all is forgiven,” you say happily, licking the cream off of your lips and motioning for him to sit down. you’re not exactly privy to the ongoings of sabo’s profession — you just know that he lives a very dangerous life and can’t stay in one place for too long; so you really are grateful when he finds time to see you, coming for a few days at a time once every few months.
it’s not a lot, but you cherish those moments — tuck them deep in your heart and bring them out when your days are extra-long and difficult to bear.
“yeah? you sure?” he teases as he sits down next to you, long legs brushing against yours; he keeps close, liking the proximity and the way you’ve suddenly turned meek and bashful.
“of course,” you swallow hard and offer him a cream puff, “we’re f-friends after all, right?” you place the box down and look at him, throat suddenly very dry. one thing you’ve learned over the years, is that sabo has an intensity about him that is unrivaled; he sees through a lot of nonsense, tends to get to the nitty-gritty of the matter without trying, and manages to extract the truth out of everyone quickly. you feel your lips move again, words stumbling as they climb out of your mouth, unfiltered.
“and friends forgive friends.” you don’t sound all that convincing, and his subsequent laughter makes your face flush terribly as you stuff another cream puff into your mouth. “don’t laugh.” your words come out garbled and it makes sabo laugh even more. you lick your lips and snatch the pastry out of his hand, since he’s too busy laughing, he clearly doesn’t want to eat with you.
he finds your huffy demeanor cute, likes the way you puff your cheeks out when you get annoyed with him, and before you’re able to take a bite of the stolen pastry, he grabs your hand and leans close. “we’re more than friends, you know that,” he says seriously and you flinch unintentionally — at the contact of his skin on yours, at the frankness of his words — and end up dropping the cream puff onto the blanket, but your mind is spinning terribly fast so you don’t notice.
you open and close your mouth to say something — anything, really — but find that the only thing that dares to come out is a small squeak. it’s probably due to sabo running his tongue along your fingertip, to lick off the bit of cream that was left behind. “we…,” you pause and swallow, eyes wide as you watch him, “you…” your thoughts scatter as soon as you try to speak again and pour into your heart mercilessly. your brain is stuck on his words and the warmth refuses to leave your face, making it nearly impossible to look at him.
while you make several attempts to speak again, he takes the initiative to pull you closer and drops a kiss on the inside of your wrist. a shiver passes through you, makes you feel things that don’t make sense. but, you’ve known that bit of truth for some time, you just ignored it. he repeatedly tried to tell you, but you kept finding ways to avoid the conversation. now that he has you to himself, of course he’s going to make sure you properly listen and process what he says.
“you can’t just say that,” you blurt out and bury your face against his chest, heart lodged somewhere in your throat, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist. “how am i supposed to… what do i even do?” you’re painfully aware of how childish you sound, but you can’t fathom dealing with romantic feelings when you don’t know if he’ll find his way back to you again.
“just accept it,” he says lightly, and falls back onto the blanket, pulling you on top of him. you try to calm your heart because there’s no way he can’t hear it. “life’s too short to comb through what ifs.” it’s something he keeps reminding himself — especially after his brother’s death — besides, what he feels for you isn’t fleeting or temporary, it’s why he said what he said. “oh, look, it’s that weird constellation again,” he nudges you gently so you can look up and see what he sees. you try to keep your eyes closed for as long as you can, but eventually give in and tilt your head up.
“the one that looks like a donut,” you both say at the same time. your laughter is infectious and for the first time in a while, sabo feels completely at ease — all the worries and burdens he carried with him during the week are nonexistent now. there’s something else he wants to tell you, something important, but decides to leave it for another day — he doesn’t want to scare you off when you can barely come to terms with your feelings for him.
a sigh drifts out of your lips as you look for other odd-looking clusters of stars, pointing them out, nerves getting the best of you, making you ramble for minutes on end. he likes that side of you, though; likes that you’re comfortable enough to be that vulnerable with him, and knows that when morning comes, it will be extremely difficult to leave you behind.
it’s a thought he pushes to the back of his mind as listens to you ramble on about the stars and the moon and about how he should bring two boxes of chocolate cream puffs with him the next time he visits.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 14/14
Fandom: Arrow (TV 2012)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Death (The Sandman), Dream (The Sandman)
Additional Tags: Love, Healing, Healing Sex, Forgiveness, Spiral - Freeform, True Love, Declarations Of Love, Sex, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Character Death In Dream, Dreams, Dreamscapes, The Sandman - Freeform, The Endless - Freeform, havenrock, Nuclear Winter, Post-Nuclear War
Well, this is it. The last chapter in the story that began 2 years ago with The Unimaginable, continued in Klamath: An Unimaginable Interlude, and ending here in Spiral: Part 3 of the trilogy.
That's how long it took me to work through Felicity's grief and guilt with Havenrock, both her father and Oliver's abandonment of her and Oliver's own darkest secret.
340 000+ words later, this story can finally come to a close. Thank you for reading it and being patient as I figured it all out.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It’s finally finished!
This fic is over a year in the making and I’m very excited to say I polished up & posted the first chapter today! The other two chapters + epilogue are written & edited and should be ready to post sometime over the next two weeks.
