Reworked Character #5: Trevor Spacey

Reworked Character #5: Trevor Spacey

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to child abuse, neglect, suicide, death, crime, and drug addiction.

Real name: Yeong-Gi Kwak

Alias: Nerdy Knife Licker

Occupation: Sergeant of the P.F. Squad

Retirement plans: Become a security programmer

Special skills: Proficiency in security programming and computer hacking, repurposing stolen enemy technology, psychological manipulation, taekwondo, and knifesmanship

Hobbies: Helping Marco with technological issues and computer programming, doing graffiti on abandoned buildings and enemy bases, creating anti-virus programs, drawing manhwa, and playing darts and video games

Likes: Marco’s heroism and superior computer skills, tinkering with security software while listening to music that has grabbed his attention, reading psychological horror books, his two combat knives, and Nadia (his best friend)

Dislikes: Being called “old” due to his silver-bleached hair, laughing so much to the point he’s coughing and wheezing, people making fun of his art, faulty security software, and boredom

Favourite food: Samgyeopsal, slushies

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender: Male

Age: 13 (in 2022), 19 (in 2028), 21 (in 2030), 23 (in 2032), 25 (in 2034), 32 (in 2041), 34 (in 2043), 35 (in 2044), and 38 (in 2047)

Blood type: AB-

Weight: 148 lbs. (67 kg)

Design: He's a 5' 9" (175.26 cm) Korean ectomorph with a lanky build, a weak musculature, sloping shoulders, warm ivory skin, dark brown eyes, nails painted a silver-grey, and a black mole beneath the left corner of his lip. He has a jet-black undercut hairstyle, featuring icy blonde hair on top with nearly middle-parted bangs that fall over his left eye, covering it partially. On his back, he has a large tattoo depicting a fiery Jindo dog chasing a golden pheasant in orbit around the moon. His lower right leg was amputated due to gangrene caused by the use of the opioid Krokodil, and has since been replaced with a bronze-hued prosthetic. He bears several scars: a curved scar on his left cheek; an X-shaped pair on his chest; a jagged stab wound on the top of his right hand; a long scar running down the length of his left upper arm; and a series of parallel scars on his right forearm.

Trevor's military gear consists of a metal dog tag necklace with his name, a scarlet bandana worn around his neck, bronze-plated goggles with orange-tinted lenses, and glaucous fingerless gloves. He wears a ruddy blue sweater with two deep pockets, cerulean wool lining, a bronze zipper, silver-striped cuffs, and an embroidered logo of the P.F. Squad on the back, which he occasionally ties around his waist. He wears baggy Cambridge blue army cargo pants, tucked into his Russian violet paratrooper boots, which have hidden knives and are held up by a glaucous belt. He also wears a sleeveless reddish-black shirt with a mock neck and a bust mesh panel, sheathes for his two combat knives, and a gun holster for his handgun.

His sweater has two hidden strapped compartments that can hold up to two firearms or two additional blades when needed. The pockets of Trevor's sweater carry a bag of THC-infused red box gummies (given to him by Ralf), a gourd-shaped jade charm necklace believed to capture fortune and health, and a photograph of him and Nadia. He also carries around a metallic pink-purple lighter and a plastic bag that contains six weed joints. A claw hammer is concealed in the right pocket of his cargo pants, while the left pocket is occupied by a sound-cancelling, bluetooth headset and his black cellphone with a metallic blue case.

Over his shirt, he wears a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. A black bandolier is wrapped above his belt, holding onto the ammunition for his handgun. He carries a Cambridge blue load-bearing backpack containing tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, seven cans of spray paint in different colours, a wide range of hacking tools such as the Flipper Zero and O.MG cables, and nunchucks. He has a collection of piercings, including: sapphire wire hook earrings; black industrial piercings; dark blue tragus piercings; a shiny silver barbell nose bridge piercing; a bold black horizontal eyebrow piercing on his left side; a metallic purple frog eyes tongue piercing; and a dainty gold hoop vertical labret piercing.

Personality: He's a stoic existentialist who focuses on what he can control, accepts what lies beyond his grasp, and believes in the power of individual free will to shape the course of one's life. He's a highly intelligent, cunning, and resourceful man who’s confident in his knife skills and computer knowledge, but can come across as overconfident at times. Despite Trevor’s easy-going demeanour and calm smile, he’s watchful, and his jovial nature often serves as a facade to conceal his underlying anxiety. He's easily amazed and intrigued by the wonders of nature, unexpected revelations, explosions, and impressive feats performed by his friends and comrades such as effortlessly hacking into an entire military mainframe. When discussing his interests or sharing fascinating experiences, he becomes quite talkative.

Trevor is an ambivert capable of being ruthless, intensely serious, and unsettling when the situation demands it. He's a skilled manipulator, able to turn enemies into allies in desperate situations by exploiting their morals and convincing them they're in the wrong. When manipulating others, he also instills fear through physical and psychological torment, such as breaking their fingers with a hammer or threatening to kill a loved one in front of them. However, he's unexpectedly stubborn when it comes to protecting those he cares about and the lives of innocent people. Trevor has a playful and mischievous streak, evident in his habit of licking his combat knives and taunting those he considers “morally weak” and “blindly stupid”. Unlike most people, he's willing to forgive his enemies when he realises they're suffering and have an opportunity to redeem themselves.

He occasionally participates in Nadia's antics, adding a touch of dramatic flair to them, but will draw the line when her schemes exceed his comfort zone. He’s often disappointed and shocked by Nadia's actions and words, frequently expressing his distaste and uncertainty. When he's extremely bored, he becomes lethargic and sleepy, making it challenging for him to muster interest in anything until the feeling passes. Trevor enjoys tagging along with Tarma, Marco, Eri, and Ralf because he regards them as role models, skilled fighters, and experts in their respective fields of expertise. Due to his upbringing, he struggles with golden child syndrome, but he has made significant progress in overcoming its challenges, thanks in large part to the support of friends like Fio. He's extremely allergic to felines, so he regards domestic cats as “diabolical little buggers” and makes every effort to avoid them.

Backstory: Yeong-Gi Kwak was born on June 25, 2009 in Seogwipo, Jeju Island, South Korea. He is the eldest of four siblings: his twin sister, Eun-Gyeong; his younger brother, Il-Seong; and his youngest brother, Seok-Jin. His father is a businessman who owns a computer software company, and his mother is a medical engineer. His parents, who were workaholics, put a lot of pressure on him and his siblings to be high achievers, believing that more effort and hard work would lead to a successful career. However, they were quick to forgive the faults of Yeong-Gi and Eun-Gyeong, allowing them to get away with more than their two younger brothers. As the oldest children in the family, his parents put a lot of pressure on him and his twin sister to set a good example and be proper role models for their two younger brothers.

This parenting style fed into Yeong-Gi's and Eun-Gyeong's need to consistently achieve, satisfying their perfectionistic and people-pleasing tendencies. Nevertheless, it also stirred an inflated sense of self in both, with Eun-Gyeong exhibiting signs of narcissistic personality disorder and Yeong-Gi experiencing a great deal of guilt on behalf of his two younger brothers. In contrast, Il-Seong was often scapegoated, frequently blamed for things he didn't do and severely punished by his parents, who would often lock him in the basement for hours. Meanwhile, Seok-Jin was neglected, retreating from his dysfunctional family by spending time alone in his room drawing or going to the park to play by himself. Yeong-Gi made a concerted effort to support Il-Seong and Seok-Jin, which undoubtedly brought some comfort and solace into their lives.

At the age of 3, Yeong-Gi received his first computer from his parents as a gift of appreciation. By the time he turned 7 years old, he had already developed a comprehensive understanding of binary codes and computer languages. During his summer breaks from school, he spent most of his time creating anti-virus programs, which often served as his homework assignments.

However, his dedication to his work left him with little time to spend with his two younger brothers, Il-Seong and Seok-Jin; however, he did manage to sneak in some time to draw manhwa. His parents heavily encouraged his efforts, as he strove to make a positive impact on his school. Ultimately, his hard work paid off, as the school he formerly attended continued to utilise his sophisticated anti-virus programs to combat growing threats from the Internet.

By the time he enrolled in secondary school, his twin sister, Eun-Gyeong, mysteriously vanished. She was last seen with her friends near a shopping mall. Although their relationship was complicated due to her narcissistic tendencies and disrespect towards their younger brothers, Yeong-Gi still cared deeply for her. He had often tried to help her, teaching her the value of humility and assisting her with homework she struggled to understand. He was utterly devastated when his parents announced her disappearance, and it made headlines in the news. A part of him felt lost that day, and the family's desperate search efforts ultimately proved futile. Despite their best efforts, Eun-Gyeong was never found by the authorities and remains missing to this day.

Despite the tragic disappearance of his sister, Yeong-Gi continued to excel in all his classes, but the pressure on him to become successful and be a role model intensified. As he finished grade 10 and summer break began, tragedy struck again when Il-Seong took his own life, sending Yeong-Gi spiralling into an identity crisis. He ran away from home and sought solace with Feodosiy, a Russian transfer student he had befriended in grade 9.

Feodosiy introduced him to his street gang and offered him his first dose of the opioid Krokodil, which Yeong-Gi accepted without hesitation. He became a delinquent, rebelling against his parents and their mistreatment of him and his siblings, but at the cost of becoming addicted to Krokodil. He bleached his hair an icy blonde, adopted the alias Trevor Spacey, and got a tattoo from Feodosiy's right-hand man, Haneul.

For three months, he lived with Feodosiy and his street gang, surviving by stealing essentials and inhabiting a rundown apartment. During this time, he engaged in various criminal activities, including theft, mugging, drug dealing, extortion, and arson. He honed his skills in knifemanship and taekwondo, making him a formidable opponent. However, his Krokodil addiction spiralled out of control, leading to a near-fatal overdose, which led to the subsequent amputation of his lower right leg. This traumatic experience forever deterred him from using street drugs.

After being discharged from the hospital with Feodosiy's gang members' help, he returned to a life of crime, although at a reduced level, as he adjusted to his prosthetic leg. He eventually abandoned his delinquency after accidentally killing a junkie behind a restaurant. Haunted by the incident, he remembered gazing at his reflection in a seedy restaurant's mirror, realising he had gone too far. The deep-seated fear of arrest drove him to the brink of madness, and he decided to eliminate Feodosiy, who had dragged him into crime.

After orchestrating the demise of Feodosiy and his cohorts, he scrubbed himself clean in the bathroom of the run-down apartment where Feodosiy had been staying. He then returned home, where his parents, relieved to see him, sensed the guilt and shame etched on his face for mistreating their children. Seok-Jin was also relieved to see him come home, fearing that he would never return. He confessed to them about his experiences, but kept his murders and certain crimes a secret.

He returned to high school, completing his remaining years successfully, embracing his new identity. Upon coming home from his graduation ceremony, he noticed a flyer seeking recruits for the regular army. He expressed interest to his parents, who were initially hesitant but eventually agreed with Seok-Jin's support. Leveraging his expertise in knifemanship and computer languages, he joined as a military scout in the Regular Army. After enlisting, he befriended Nadia, a scientist and soldier for the Amadeus Syndicate, and thwarted a computer virus that Marco had inadvertently released. During a mission to counter a cyber attack on European governmental forces, he earned Marco's respect due to his exceptional computer skills in hacking and security programming. As a result, he was invited to join the prestigious Peregrine Falcons Squad, where he rose to the rank of Sergeant.

Shuma Hagane

I had to redesign and rename my demon slayer oc because I wasn’t happy with the name Jitsuko and the design of the oc

(click/tap keep reading to view details)

FR!! And idk how they still don't like him even after Nightbringer like bro REALLY came to the past to help us and yall still don't like him.

List your husbandos/waifus 🫵

Husband's

Susano'o, Sasaki, Lucifer, Azazel, Samael (Ror)

Diavolo and Solomon (Obey Me Shall we date)

Katakuri (One Piece)

Julius Novachrono (Black Clover)

Hashirama (Naruto)

Uramichi (Life Lessons Of Uramichi)

Ging (HxH)

Fu (Dragon ball Xenoverse)

Fukuzawa (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Females

Gine (Dragon Ball)

Mereoleona (Black Clover)

Thrud, Chun Yan, Lilith, Geirölul (ROR)

Thirteen (Obey Me)

The Gravestone

Trigger warnings for death, suicide, and dissociation

She never imagined she should die so young.

Beverly Whittenhouse stood before the grave that said in big letters her name—BEVERLY WHITTENHOUSE—and the date—JANUARY 17, 1992 - SEPTEMBER 5, 1953. The gravestone was small and upright, but to her, it was everything. This is where she would forever lie. She thought her funeral would be grander, but when she stood in the back pew looking at her coffin, she couldn’t help but feel nothing. She could never stand to look at her body.

It was shortly after the birth of her firstborn, Cynthia Whittenhouse, that her body relaxed and her muscles eased. Her arms felt like a million pounds, and her body felt like cement. She couldn’t tell the doctors what was wrong because she couldn’t gather the energy to speak. It was painful for the first hour or so, with a mind-crushing headache and sweat beading down her face. Sooner or later, the nurses monitoring her noticed something was wrong, but by then, it was too late. Beverly was already too far gone for treatment, so she did the next best thing. She closed her eyes. She thought, ‘Maybe if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up fine.’

Beverly did wake up. Her body lay in the hospital bed, unmoving, when she opened her eyes. Her body felt light like she could run a marathon and then some. She no longer felt sweaty and gross but instead felt rejuvenated, like she was a kid again. The lights in the delivery room no longer felt blinding, and everything was still. For a moment, Beverly felt true, genuine peace.

When she came back to her senses, Beverly saw her peers, the other nurses who served alongside her in the Second World War, crying. She didn’t understand what was wrong, so she sat up.

“What’re you cryin’ for? I’m right here.”

But they acted like they couldn’t hear her.

She went to grab onto one of the nurses but saw that her hand went through them. Her hand felt like nothing, and a simple gust of wind could blow her away. Beverly got out of bed, stood up, and looked at the nurses. Her eyes couldn’t believe the moment that had transpired, and all she could do was stare at them with a still and fearful expression. The pit in her stomach grew, and she knew one thing.

She couldn’t turn around.

Beverly knew if she turned around, it would become all too real to her. She walked around the nurses, knowing full well she could walk right through them, and walked through the door. Passing through physical objects is strange; it’s like walking through jello or something similar. It’s like something is trying to pull you back, and you feel suffocated all at once.

Each step she took felt heavier than the last. Her surroundings felt…off. She couldn’t feel or touch anything, and when she looked around, it felt as if everything had a haze to it. Her body felt out of her control, and she went on autopilot. She felt disconnected from reality, and in a sense, she really was.

It was a small hospital with a long corridor leading to different hospital rooms. She walked down the corridor, passing by the paintings on the wall she never got a good look at when she was being wheeled down. They were beautiful paintings: one of sunflowers, another of a fruit basket, and a few others of various objects. She walked slowly down the corridor until she came to the double doors that led to the entrance. She took a left because of the label ‘nursery’ on the wall.

It didn’t take long to find her husband standing there with a smile on his face. He wasn’t paying attention to Beverly; instead, he stared at one of the babies in the nursery. There were about 20 babies, but she couldn’t mistake her own. There, in the back row in the middle, was hers: Cynthia Whittenhouse. She had this feeling of elation, knowing her baby was alive and well. She felt so far from everything, but in this moment alone, she finally felt the happiness she had been waiting for 9 months.

“Mister George Whittenhouse.”

The recurring fear came back into Beverly’s body as she turned to look at her husband, who had been happy and smiling at his newborn daughter. She knew this would be the last time he would be seen happy again. She stayed, looking into the nursery with a fond expression, while he left with the doctor and went back down the corridor.

For the next week, she wasn’t allowed to leave the funeral home. She was stuck in some place that looked like a dentist’s office with a long chair in the middle. Beverly looked curiously around the room, looking at the different bottles labeled formaldehyde, methanol, glutaraldehyde, and other names of chemicals she didn’t know. She never once looked at the person in the room rushing around or who laid on the chair herself.

Beverly could never stand to look at herself in the eyes. Once, she tried to turn and look at herself, but when she caught a glimpse of her still lifeless body on the table, she couldn’t bear it. She tried; she honestly tried to come to terms with the fact she was dead, but she internally screamed at herself. She was too young to die, too young to perish! She didn’t even get to meet the baby girl she had so long to see.

So when it finally came time for her funeral, seeing the preparations and flowers, seeing all the guests that came, it all felt too surreal. Beverly waited outside the room where the funeral was being held. That’s the farthest she could get before she would blink and be back at her body. She could never travel far from it. It was like some sort of tether still tying her to her body.

“Today we mourn the loss of Beverly Whittenhouse…”

Arriving there was no problem; all she had to do was wait until her body left the funeral home. Whenever she got too far away from her body, it was always like walking through a fog. Even now, whenever she starts to walk too far, she always makes it back to her gravestone. Even in death, she couldn’t travel the world like her husband promised.

The cemetery was beautiful when she was buried there. It was still a fresh plot of grass, and the headstone was beautifully carved. She could hear sniffles from everyone in the crowd and, worst of all, her husband’s red eyes. She had assumed their baby was still in the hospital, where she would stay until enough time had passed and it was okay to send her home. Seeing her husband’s cheerful demeanor disappear after the war was the first sign of his depression, and then the second was seeing the loss of his beloved wife.

The third came way later.

Over time, she would stand beside her gravestone and wait. She would see her little girl grow up with her mother’s bright green eyes and her father’s red curly hair. She was always so happy whenever she came by. Cynthia would say hello and would sit down at the grave and talk for hours and hours about her day and home life. She was a pretty lucky kid; most dads would run, but this one didn’t.

It didn’t stop Beverly from noticing something was wrong. Every time he came by, he seemed tired and often worn out. After the war, George went back to his job as a factory worker. His sad smile turned weary, and after a while, the smile faded. It was like it took everything out of him just to get up in the morning. Soon enough, he stopped coming.

Beverly waited by the gravestone one day, waiting for Cynthia to come by. The weather wasn’t half bad—a little rain here and there, but otherwise, it was a perfectly cloudy day. She sat down on the ground, trying to pick the grass, but she couldn’t touch the ground like she could before. She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

“I’ve been watching.”

“Who the hell are you?” a startled Beverly yelled, getting up and backing away.

When she turned around to face whoever it was, she was pleasantly surprised. There stood a man about fifty years old with a stubbly face and dark brown eyes. He stood a little taller than Beverly, who was already 5’6 herself and looked clean. He stood there staring straight at her with a kind and soft expression.

“I am the Groundskeeper of this fine cemetery. You must be Beverly Whittenhouse.”

She looked around to see if anyone else was around and then back to the man. “How can you see me?”

“Once you spend enough time at the cemetery, you tend to see things.”

“So, you can really see me?” she asked, walking up to the man. “I wonder…” she reached out a hand to touch him.

“Still can’t touch.”

“Oh.”

She withdrew her arm and looked at him curiously. It still bothered her that his only answer was that ‘you tend to see things’ when you spend enough time at the cemetery. It wasn’t enough for her. There had to be more to the story.

“Does that mean my daughter can see me?”

“Perhaps.”

She rushed towards the man, trying to grab his shirt, but stumbled and fell to the ground. The man stepped out of the way nonchalantly, looking down at her. She grumbled at the fact that she had forgotten she couldn’t touch people and got to her feet again. She brushed off the nonexistent dirt and looked at him sternly.

“That’s not a good answer.”

Despite everything, the Groundskeeper seemed unbothered by this entire situation. “You want me to talk to her, yes?”

“I’d do anything to tell her that I loved her,” she begged the man. “Please. I just want to see my daughter once.”

“I can’t tell you if she can see you or not. I can only assume. When she comes by again, I’ll talk to her.”

If she could kiss that man’s feet, she would. She could finally meet the daughter she never got to see. It had been so long since she could hold her little girl in her arms, and now she could talk to her as a teenager. Maybe, just maybe, she could get to meet Cynthia

When the next year came, Cynthia was eighteen years old. Beverly had seen some of her relatives come by the cemetery; they were stuck to their bodies just like she was, but they moved on. Beverly got to know some of the other residents of the cemetery, like David, an elderly man waiting for his wife, or Susan, a young adult who wanted to stay just a bit longer. Beverly wasn’t alone.

It was the middle of the summer, and while everyone else was out wearing short sleeves and shirts, Beverly was still in her orange pencil skirt dress she was buried in. It was almost scandalous how much skin a woman could show nowadays, but it was trendy. Back before she died, it was scandalous for a woman to wear pants, much less mini-skirts.

Cynthia wore a similar outfit to the rest of the people. She wore a pink halter top with high-waisted bell bottoms. She wasn’t with her father that day; he stopped visiting two years ago. Beverly had hoped he was moving on and was being a father to their child, but in reality, Beverly didn’t know. All she cared about now was meeting her daughter for the first time.

Beverly waited by the gravestone for Cynthia with a smile on her face. She was nervous; she couldn’t lie, but she was so elated that she could finally tell her daughter the words “I love you” on her face. She held her hands together tightly as she waited for her daughter to get closer.

Beverly didn’t know where he came from or how, but the Groundskeeper came along. He seemed to have some supplies, and he started cleaning a gravestone. She didn’t know the supplies’ names or what exactly he was doing, but she knew he was cleaning the gravestone. This was the first she had seen him clean them.

Cynthia set down a white rose and looked over to see the Groundskeeper. “Who are you?”

He looked up from his work to face her. “I am the Groundskeeper. I watch over the cemetery.”

“Weird…” she turned back to Beverly’s gravestone. “So, what, do you watch over the graves here or something?”

“You could say that,” he says as he brushed the gravestone with some cleaning agent. “What would you say to her?”

“Who, my mom? I dunno,” she shrugged, looking at the grave. “It’s hard to miss someone you didn’t get to know. I mean, I love her, but it’s different.”

“Do you grieve for her?”

“I grieve for the mother I didn’t get to know, but do I grieve my mom?” she paused for a second to think on the question. “No. I just hope she’s at peace now.”

“Why do you keep coming then?”

“Because…she’s still my mom. I may not grieve her, but without her, I wouldn’t be here. I know she loved me; Dad tells me that every day.” she stares at the gravestone a bit longer. “Thank you for talking to me and all. Mr…?”

“Mr. Peters.”

Beverly wiped her eyes as tears ran down her face when Cynthia left the cemetery. She wasn’t wailing, but she was sobbing quietly. Did her daughter not love her enough? What did she mean by it was different? Beverly had so many unanswered questions but couldn’t ask. She wanted to run, scream, and do whatever. And so she did.

Beverly fell to her knees in some distraught agony and pounded her fists into the ground. She clenched her teeth and shut her eyes as she sobbed out. Beverly was frustrated with the feeling of not being able to do anything. She couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t speak to the people she loved; she couldn’t go and see them; she couldn’t do anything except stay here and stare at the words on the gravestone that said her name.

“Why…” Beverly sniffled. “Why can’t she see me?”

“Because she’s not grieving you,” the Groundskeeper told her. “She may have lost a mother, but she didn’t lose you.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, then it’s not!” she yelled through broken sobs. “My own daughter…”

“She never said she didn’t love you. In fact, she said the opposite. She’s moved on. Maybe you should, as well.”

Beverly got up and stood over the Groundskeeper. “I should move on?! How? I can’t even tell the people that I love that I loved them! And you didn’t help me at all!”

“I showed you that she couldn’t see you.” the Groundskeeper got up from his spot and looked Beverly in the eyes. “I cannot control how your daughter grieves or does not grieve you.”

“You could have at least told her that I loved her! That I was proud of her!”

“Realistically, how would you react if I said your dead loved one told me beyond the grave that they loved you?”

“I…” Beverly was at a loss for words. On the one hand, she wanted to say she would be receptive, but on the other, she knew she would view him as crazy. “You still could have said something!”

“I am but a mere groundskeeper. I watch the grounds. I am not a messenger between the dead and the living.”

“But you can see me, and you’re not grieving!” she jabbed a finger at him, but all it did was pass through him.

Grief comes in many different forms. It’s thoughtless to assume I am not grieving.” the Groundskeeper walked through her to get to another grave to clean. “Think about this, Beverly. This is not meant to be an attack on you. This is merely a time for self-refleciton.”

“Self-reflection, my ass,” she rolled her eyes.

She did reflect on his words. There was a patch of trees beside the cemetery that she could sit under that wouldn’t bring her back to her body, so she was there for years at a time. She saw that over time, as her daughter grew older, she had this fond smile on her face. She always brought white roses, which were her favorite. Although, she never saw her husband come.

That was until one day, someone came to sit wit hher.

Today wasn’t much different than any other day. A funeral service was being held. It was rainy, and the sky was grey. It’s not a beautiful day to be holding funeral services, really. She wasn’t bothered with who was showing up because she would see them anyway. So, she sat under some trees and watched as people grieved and cried for their lost loved one.

Beverly had kept track of how old Cynthia was at that point, 50 years old. She had a child of her own, Jennifer, who then had a child of her own, Maeve. Even after so long, she still visited her mother, who had been in the ground for half a century. Beverly was curious though. Was her body decayed by then? Was she all bones now?

Those thats didn’t matter when a voice rang out to her. “You look as beautiful as the day I married you.”

She looked up and saw an elderly man standing there. He had a kind smile on his face and kind eyes. She stared confusingly at him for a moment. The last she recalled, all the elderly men in her life had passed away and moved on.

“Who are you?”

“I guess I look different than when you last saw me, Beaver.”

Her eyes widened when she heard the nickname. It had been a long time since she was called 'Beaver.' It was some stupid nickname a few friends gave her in high school because of how her name Beverly sounded similar to Beaver. She didn't understand it, but she took it with pride.

"George?"

He sat next to her with a grunt. "Yeah. It's me, hon."

She couldn't touch him because ghosts can't touch anything, so she cried into her hands. It had been so many years since she saw her husband, and now she could finally see him again.

"What happened?"

"I...couldn't bear it any longer," he said, looking down. "I hadn't been with anyone since you died, and I got diagnosed with dementia earlier last year. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my memories of you."

"Oh, George..."

"But I can finally see you again, and that's all I could ask for."

That was when she made her decision. She decided to stay. She finally understood what it meant to be dead. She wanted to see her daughter again, and the only way she could do that was to wait.

“Do you finally understand?”

She had almost forgotten where all of this began. She stood in front of her gravestone still as the grey skies passed. It was now the dawn of the 21st century, a little over 20 years since she first met the Groundskeeper. This time, he was an elderly man in his 80s with grey balding hair and a stout hunched figure. He could no longer keep up the cemetery, so moss and dirt had taken over the gravestone.

“It’s been a little bit since George left,” she noted. “He moved on much quicker than I did, but I think that’s because he had all the time in the world to spend with her.”

“Are you still angry?”

“Not anymore. I’ve come to learn to appreciate the cemetery for all it’s worth. I just hope there will be someone else to take over your job when you pass.”

He let out a hearty laugh. One that she had never seen before. He was usually stoic and aloof, but this time he looked more…friendly, more forthcoming. Maybe it had to do with age. After all, she didn’t know much about him.

“What about you?” she asked him. “What about your friends or family?”

“I’ll be fine, Beverly.” he said in his smooth, rich voice, now huskier than before. He left the cemetery with his cane in hand. “Just take care.”

She stood there waving goodbye to him as he left and he returned the wave back, before leaving. She looked down at her gravestone one last time, and saw the white roses that Jennifer had placed there.

I'm in love with this and I love him too!! AHHHHHH!!!

Artist: WhatsernameCC

Reworked Species #2: Tuatha Dé Danann

Unfortunately, little information has been preserved about the history, culture, behaviours, and capabilities of the Tuatha Dé Danann. However, it’s known that they thrived during the Hadean Eon, a time marked by the emergence of life, and possessed technology far superior to that of modern humanity. This society of demigods was renowned for their impressive naval prowess and vast knowledge, reflecting their diverse talents and interests.

The Tuatha Dé Danann created intricate hieroglyphic drawings on portable pieces of green jasper, red garnet or obsidian, highlighting them with fool's gold or mercury. These drawings depicted ancient deities, such as the Avatar of Evil, and are often referred to as the Rosetta Stones.

The Tuatha Dé Danann are believed to possess an infinite amount of knowledge, encompassing even forbidden lore, but this intellectual capacity diminishes with each successive generation of descendants. As their DNA is diluted, their heirs retain only a hint of the Tuatha Dé Danann's extraordinary cognitive abilities, allowing them to hold more knowledge than the average human but not to the same extent as their ancestors. Notably, the Tuatha Dé Danann lived long enough to intermarry with fully evolved humans, sparking controversy among the older generations. The older generations viewed such unions as a taint on their genetic lineage, regarding themselves as a superior species whose physical and mental purity was paramount.

They can effortlessly distinguish between their own kind, including those who possess Tuatha Dé Danann DNA, and beings from other species through a peculiar tingling sensation of familiarity. Legend has it that they occasionally or frequently glimpse a pair of glowing red eyes watching them from darkened corners or shadowy places. They interpret this as a guardian carefully observing and assessing their moral actions. However, their descendants often find this unsettling with some believing they are being haunted by a restless spirit, while others suspect they are merely hallucinating. Sometimes, they're drawn into certain places, enticed by an aura of curiosity, a commanding presence or the echoing whispers of safety and growth.

They're immune to debilitating illnesses and were once prolific wielders of powerful magic, controlling the weather, elements, and earth's fertility. With this magic, they could shapeshift themselves and objects into animals and people, become invisible by hiding in a mist, and bring doom upon those who committed heinous acts against the divine and the law. However, descendants of the Tuatha Dé Danann have lost the ability to wield this magic as modern society has forgotten the secrets of harnessing and maintaining such an arcane force.

Beliefs

Although their specific beliefs and values are not well-documented, they are largely centred around animism, enlightenment, salvation, and cultural preservation. They held key values such as honour, courage, mastery of survival skills, overall health, compassion, creativity, and wisdom. Moreover, they believed it was their responsibility to aid in the physical and technological evolution of all life forms and reset the timeline when destruction seemed imminent. Some believe in the transformative power of human emotions and physical capabilities.

They held immense respect for the deities, preparing exquisite festivals, large feasts, worship ceremonies, and moral laws inspired by their unique principles. They hold a profound belief in the sacredness of the land, recognizing a collective responsibility to protect it from desecration and preserve its integrity. As stewards of the natural world, they strive to maintain harmony among the five elements: earth, air, fire, water, and quintessence. Embracing the cyclical nature of life, they accept and respect the phases of birth, growth, decay, and rebirth, working to maintain the delicate balance of the natural order.

Appearance

It's commonly believed that the Tuatha Dé Danann bore a striking resemblance to humans, but with distinct physical differences. They were remarkably tall, with males standing at an impressive 9’ 4” (284.48 cm) and females reaching approximately 8’ 10” (269.24 cm). Their physiques were characterised by lean builds, prominent muscles, and a proportionate amount of body fat. Their hair reportedly came in varying shades of black and blonde, while their eyes ranged in hues of blue and cyan. They have a pale complexion, but most experience a dulling of their skin hue as they grow older with age.

Warriors often adorned themselves with vibrant markings: they bleached the skin of their faces, torsos, arms, and lower legs with woad, giving them a bluish appearance. They also used Murex snail dye to create swirling patterns or claw-like marks on their faces, chests, and arms, which appeared purple. Additionally, they dyed their hair with madder red dye, and if they had longer hair, they braided it.

Tuatha Dé Danann rulers are always born with distinctive physical characteristics, including either python-like legs, a wolf’s head, a winding, serpentine fish tail or the lower half of a horse.

The exact nature of their attire is unknown, but it’s believed to have been crafted from luxurious materials such as silks, satins, linens, and animal pelts. Their jewellery was adorned with gemstones, precious metals, and ornate pieces made from animal teeth and bones. Notably, their armour was forged from a mysterious material known as adamant, a semi-magnetic rock infused with hardened steel, renowned for its exceptional strength and durability, surpassing even that of diamond.

Known Locations

Atlantis is said to be buried deep within the centre of the Atlantic Ocean. According to legend, the fabled civilization of the Hadean Eon was lost to the depths after its ruler succumbed to hubris and attempted to conquer humanity or prematurely reboot life itself with the aid of the Alator. The city's architecture is characterised by a series of concentric islands, separated by expansive moats and linked by a winding canal that culminates in a central hub: a towering structure featuring labyrinthine hallways, prismatic stone, and an altar adorned with ancient deity caricatures.

Some believe that Atlantis houses ancient technology infused with psionic energy and holds the knowledge of the deities. A few also speculate that it will rise up from the Atlantic Ocean during a rare and ominous blood moon event, rumoured to last for seven days, potentially initiating the apocalypse.

Ultima Thule is a remote tundra island located northwest of the Orkney Islands, frequently visited by whale and orca families. The island experiences the extreme phenomena of polar night and midnight sun. Despite its fertile soil and abundant fields, capable of supporting crops and fruits, Ultima Thule is uninhabited. Regrettably, the island has been exploited as a dumping site for trash, discarded vehicles, and defunct machinery, leading to its notorious moniker, Scrap Island. It secretly harbours the remains of a deceased extraterrestrial deity and antediluvian, faulty technology of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

It's believed that Ultima Thule was once a multifaceted hub, featuring large greenhouses for agriculture, mines for fossil fuels, precious metals, and gemstones, and sanctuaries that housed libraries, lavish bathhouses, and comfy homes for the elderly. Additionally, the area hosted various winter sports to test physical strength and agility, survival skills, instinctive reflexes, and mental strategies.

Technology

Little is known about their technological capabilities, but it’s believed that they were the result of a fusion of advanced mechanics, cutting-edge bioengineering, and mystical wizardry. Some of their technology is said to be capable of creating devastating weapons unparalleled on Earth, generating new land masses and life forms (including clones), and even tearing rifts in the space-time continuum.

Atlantis contains the Alator, a 200-million-year-old information-gathering device, and the Lugus Lieu, a biomechanical tower giant that serves as the Alator's core. The Alator is employed to accelerate the evolution of cultures and life forms, but it inevitably self-destructs when accessed by an individual of Tuatha Dé Danann lineage, resetting the timeline and perpetuating an eternal cycle of repetition.

They were in possession of data discs attached to copper-hued adamant vambraces, comprising three sections that are adorned with an encircling, shaky line pattern and outlined with gold accents to demarcate each section. The data discs themselves are rimmed with pearlescent adamant and centred with a floating rhomboid piece of green jasper. These devices are capable of generating an impenetrable shield, manifesting as yellow-orange and saffron octagonal waves, for defensive purposes. Additionally, they can emit purplish-white laser projectiles for long-range offence.