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raaorqtpbpdy · 3 months

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This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off.

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

#dp #danny phantom #spn #dp x spn #superphantom #dp crossover #crossover #sam winchester #dean winchester #danny fenton #jazz fenton #fic #things i wrote #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover danuary week #suicide ment #full hazmat au

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llittletingoddess · 10 months

Text

Borderline

"This is my job, I have no other choice."

Part 1

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Genre: AU, Psychology, Drama, Angst, Character Study

Words Count: 1.2k

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes, please be patient. Also note that it's based on real occurrences but do not claim to be accurate. Everything described is merely the author's point of view ♥

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August, 2022.

An ordinary routine summer day. Summer in Vail is one of the most interesting times of the year. And even though the number of tourists decreases over time during this period, the nature, on the contrary, surprises with its colors: Rocky mountains are submerged in greenery, the sound of waterfalls perfectly complements the tranquility present here, and the distant chirping of birds somewhere in the forest seems to transport you to a fairytale. An ideal place to live… with your family.

The life of a housewife is vastly different from the whirlwind of events she experienced all these years. His tours, red carpets, camera flashes, and universal popularity - it was like Cinderella transforming from a stepdaughter into a princess. But all of it came crashing down in one moment.

There were no signs of trouble. Francesca was cutting onions for the soup she would eat alone - the kids had long scattered to various places, and her husband… when did he ever like onion soup? Somewhere in the background, MTV was on to somewhat alleviate the deafening silence of the place. This house used to be a family nest, into which she poured her soul, but now these walls weigh her down with their emptiness. As she finished chopping the onions, out of the corner of her ear, she heard those lines:

— "…rock legend James Hetfield… divorce…25 years…"

Her heart sank. Once again, journalists referred to him as a rock legend. He would mutter something discontented about how people in the industry can't even tell metal from rock, and then he'd start comparing himself to someone like Mick Jagger, assuring everyone that he'd still be rocking at 70. This made Francesca bitterly smile at her own thoughts. She knew very well that divorce was inevitable. All these years, she lived in self-deception, hoping he would change. For the sake of the family. For her. But the more he changed, the less of that James she fell in love with remained. The one who became the father of her children. And she blamed herself for it. After all, it was her idea to get him to go for treatment for his alcohol addiction. But getting rid of the problem came at too high a cost.

With a heavy sigh, she turned off the TV with a dry hand. Sabbath, their black cat, the one James named after one of his favorite bands, gently rubbed against her leg, and her eyes began to burn intensely. Francesca couldn't tell if it was the onions or the fragments of her broken heart. Pouring the onions into the pot, she lit the stove and sat down at the table. Sabbath, slightly offended by the lack of attention, climbed onto the nearby chair, gazing questioningly at her owner. Francesca wearily smiled, petting the cat's head.

— You are constant, Sabbath. Always been a silent psychologist for me at the right moment.

A couple of days ago, he celebrated his birthday. For the first time in almost 30 years, without her. Was he happy? She hoped so. At least, it seemed that way when he answered her phone call with a barely discernible joy in his voice. Usually, he didn't like to throw parties in his honor, but this time, it was a mini-party with his favorite tracks from the 80s in the style of the series "Stranger Things" - or so she was told by mutual friends. That was so unlike him… why would he suddenly chase trends? "Better to understand the kids," Francesca answered her own question. She had often told him that he should get to know their children's interests better.

— While you're sell out stadiums, your kids need their father.

— Everything will be fine, Fran. This is my job, I have no other choice.

He always said that, and what was the result? While finding common ground with Castor was easy, as their son followed in his father's footsteps and played in a young band, with Kali, their internal connection worked - Marcela was the most difficult one. At first, he was skeptical of her boyfriend, and then he criticized her for a revealing photoshoot for some designer. As a result, Sella cut off communication with her father, adding another crack to their family.

Children… sometimes Francesca wondered what it would have been like if she hadn't met James on that tour in 1991. She was immensely proud of each of her children's endeavors, but lately, she blamed herself for choosing such a father for them. They could have been much happier without all the money in the world that James tried to earn, the most important thing was his presence. That would have been better. But… for the children, or for herself?

Francesca's gaze fell on the family photograph hanging on the wall. They were all together against the backdrop of wintry rocky mountains. Young Cali, Castor, and Marcella looked adorable with their cheeks reddened from the cold, and she and James looked happy and… right.

She embraced herself. No matter how much she blamed James for his absence, she knew what she was getting into when he asked her to date him. For a star of his magnitude, there was simply no time for family in his schedule. And she missed him so much: his warm hugs before each concert, his pleasant voice vibrating in his chest when she lay on him, his tender words towards her, the way he affectionately called her "Fran," even though she was annoyed by that form of her name… but who could resist his smile and charm? No wonder he captivated hundreds of girls. But she became special to him.

"I'm so lucky to have you, Fran… if it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be now…"

But now he's probably spending time in the studio with his guys, discussing the latest news and sharing inside jokes that only they would understand. Francesca felt that over the years they lived together, she couldn't become as close to him as his bandmates were. And it angered her. In the last few months before the divorce, they often argued about this. Well, it was one of the key issues in their fights. James tried to smooth things over, taking the family on tour with him, but it hardly changed the situation. The kids had their studies; they couldn't be a burden to their father throughout his entire tour! And he understood that.

Francesca rested her head on her hands, gazing heavily at Sabbath. The cat seemed to understand all her troubles and peacefully dozed off, closing its eyes and calmly observing its owner. Or perhaps the problem wasn't with him at all? Maybe she demanded too much. He couldn't cancel a concert, knowing that the entire fee would go to support their family. At her request, he went through alcohol addiction treatment twice, which became humiliating for him. At her request, he gave so much advice to Marcela, which made her resent him.

— It's my fault, Sabbath…

Tears rolled down her face on their own. How could she blame him when everything she saw as a problem was initiated by her? Her heart tightened in her chest, and the bitter truth suffocated her. What would happen to her life now? But she had no choice. She needed to be strong. For herself. For the children.

She need to get him back.

#james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield fanfic #metallica #borderline

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decolonize-the-left · 1 year

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god yeah about the exclusionism post and asking the queer community to hold itself accountable...

like, i'm young. im only 18. so i wasn't super around for the vast majority of the height of aphobic bigotry in this community.... but i've been around for most of the anti-bilesbian, anti-xenogender, anti-mogai stuff, and it has hurt so so much.

im a xenogender, genderqueer aroace bi lesbian. all of these things mean so so much to me. because they taught me to know and love all parts of myself, which has taught me my love of radical love and kindness. the queer community is what has transformed me into being a radical, queer-anarchist, anti-racist, anti-bigotry, and those things are so fucking critical to who i am. i wouldn't be who i am without the queer community and what its members have taught me about equity and compassion... and yet, it has also traumatized me to the point that it's hard to think about getting involved in irl queer events which breaks my heart.

in 2021, 11,000 people signed a petition telling me specifically to end my life for being part of the campaign that had the lgbta wiki support bi lesbians. i had a message board on there, and everytime i went on there, there were 10 new messages with different descriptions of how i should end my life. it got so bad that i couldn't sleep. i was shaking and crying ALL THE TIME. and despite that wiki being the one place i could be open about my queerness, i was forced off of it because if i stayed, i would be continually threatened and my mental health couldn't take it.

as a result, i lost contact with most of my online queer friends. i was so fucking angry all the time. everytime i saw any form of exclusionist rhetoric, i would become so anxious that i would spiral. i've been baited, threatened, relentlessly bullied, forced out of a queer 'safe' space, and treated like absolute fucking shit. all because i put the words 'bi' and 'lesbian' next to each other in a bio about me.

i can't put words to describe the kind of shit this has done to my mental health. i already had personality disorders from Emotional Trauma that made anger hard to deal with- so getting involved on Tumblr after the wiki went away, where exclusionism was sadly rampant, was hard because I felt like I had to choose- be an online part of the community that has made me who i am, but suffer bullying and self hatred in the process, or give up that community entirely. i don't think people truly comprehend how traumatizing it is for anyone, but especially a TEENAGER, to have to make a decision like that.

it's been almost two years now, and still, everytime i see exclusionism, everytime i get a death threat (sadly still a somewhat frequent occurrence), i spiral because it takes me right back to the height of my harassment two years ago. and part of my brain still genuinely believes i deserved it.

that's just me. that's just one person influenced by this. and yet it's not just me. the same stuff that's happened to me, has happened to thousands. and thousands more. and i don't think people truly understand that, just because it's online stuff and didn't really happen irl, doesn't mean it's some small little thing that we should stop complaining about because there's REAL problems for REAL queer people to worry about.

so, very long story short, coming from someone who has been hugely impacted by exclusionism, and i may be unique in this position, but every person who was once an exclusionist like that and has grown and apologized, seriously means the world to me. because i know that there's no excuse for it, and yet i understand the reasons why so many people struggle with it. out of all the self hatred exclusionism has caued me, how can i turn around and blame the exclusionists who were acting out of the same exact insecurities i was?

there is no excuse for bigotry. but you are not a bad person. thank you for growing. seeing your post actually gave me so much hope because i've had several people come to me personally and say that me being open about my identity has helped them grow out of their exclusionist mindsets and grown as a person, so seeing people grow like this just warms my heart because we all have the capacity for both good and bad- taking the opportunity to learn to be better is a prime example of the good and it fills me with hope that other people can learn too.

i also wanted to comment on something else from your post. you were talking about the generational trauma you've experienced, and how you perceived the concept of 'aphobia' as disrespectful to the victims of horrible systemic oppression irl, and while yes, that is not what aphobia as a concept is, you don't need to apologize for being angry because yes, you perceived something the incorrect way in that moment, but your anger was 100% justified. as a white queer person, i fully believe that inclusionism still needs room to acknowledge intersecting oppressions and that comparing intracommunity exclusionism to centuries of genocidal colonialism, is absolutely appalling. your actions were unjustified- your anger was not. i want you to know that you do not need to feel guilty for being angry like that. anger is an important emotion, so i hope you can truly internalize that you had every right to be angry, even if your actions were wrong.

again, thank you for being awesome and making that post. i'm very sorry if my super long ramble was unsolicited, and if you don't want to respond i completely understand! please please take care and have a wonderful time zone <3

🖤🖤🖤

#asked #answered #i dont have anything to say but i still felt like others should see this too

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screamingaboutaceattorney · 1 year

Text

liveblogging the great ace attorney: the adventure of the great departure-trial part 3

hoo boy. been a while, huh? sorry about that, i don't have an excuse. however! i'm here now, for an..... admittedly stupid reason (i saw a compilation of this game's prosecutor objecting and needed to know if it was real or not)

again, sorry for the shitty quality, i can't transfer pics off of my switch for shit. i did add image ids this time though!

reactions under the cut! also i won't have screenshots for all of my thoughts cause i took like a hundred screenshots and there just isn't room

oh shit women weren't allowed in the courtroom unless they were testifying (or on trial probably)? did not know that but also i'm not a lawyer irl nor do i want to be one it kinda sounds like hell

ma'am did you steal this (also love how everyone's crowded behind the defense bench it's very cute)

also apparently susato is sixteen, which means no forced heterosexuality! yay!

something about curare, continuing the long tradition of ace attorney giving fictional elements stupid names (except atroquinine, but i am deeply deeply attached to aa4's characters and story so i might be biased)

edit: i’m an idiot and curare is a real thing. thank you for correcting me @addicted-to-12th-intro!

will you just shut the fuck up

man this poison is like a really fucked up way to die? goddamn

sorry for pics of auchi twice in a row but that's not. there are no rules about this shit

oh she's racist yuck (this might not be a new thing idk it's been over a year since i last played the game)

I'M????????????? MA'AM WHAT THE HELL

AND THEN SHE'S FINE? WHAT THE FUCK

phoenix's true ancestor istg /j

do you think about me being a lawyer often? gayass

bro WHAT

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA

GOD THAT'S SUCH A FUNNY SPRITE HOLY SHIT

alright i'm sorry i just had to share that

HOSONAGA WHY AREN'T YOU DOING ANYTHING THIS IS A SERIOUS PROBLEM

AND THEN SHE JUST FUCKING DESTROYED THE EVIDENCE???? WHAT

yeah i can't excuse that actually that was really fucking dumb of you

okay i hate to agree with auchi here i really do but the thing about ryu "just remembering" the bloodstain is pretty out there

hosonaga apparently is here to save my ass and be really. pretty weird actually

like thanks for bringing the evidence but maybe care about what your superiors think of it

also is this a regular occurrence cause if so maybe. do something about that.

cackling at the judge calling hosonaga "man" that's really fucking funny

god okay this next part took me FOREVER cause i didn't realize i could examine the evidence while presenting it and i was down to my last badge before i figured it out it was awful but! i did it!

you do not fucking have one bestie you're like. an english major i'm pretty sure don't quote me on that it's been a while

auchi says i wasn't invited, which i'm fairly certain is incorrect something tells me i was in fact invited to my own trial

in a truly shocking turn of events, the witnesses from the very beginning are back! and when i say "a truly shocking turn of events" i mean "i didn't think anyone cared enough to bring them back after like nineteen hours of the trial"

so see a chiropractor? (sorry)

the witnesses come in and are kinda funny? maybe? idk this trial has been going on for a very long time and my brain is melting out of my ears

hosonaga wants to say something! which thank god he's like the only reliable witness in the courtroom. maybe he's misinformed sometimes but goddamn it seems like he's doing his best

he was at the restaurant looking for a thief which he maybe said before? again this trial is LONG

nosa is apparently the thief of la carneval! which isn't. too surprising tbh that was going to be one of the witnesses and brett is obviously the killer while there's no reason for korekuta to steal from himself

nosa is trying to pin the blame on his infant son which. is quite a choice. a really funny choice, but still. a choice

oh he has a breakdown! it's pretty entertaining tbh i don't really have anything against it

oh fuck this is actually kinda sad

like he just wants to provide for his son and he's not paid hardly at all i feel bad for him

i do kinda wish he wasn't here cause the stuff with him and korekuta is just dragging the trial out longer than necessary but aside from that? i have nothing against this choice

also i love how his mustache is all crumpled after his breakdown and then stays that way for the rest of the trial jgkalsjglkasjg

don't make a persona 5 reference don't make a persona 5 reference don't-

brett wants to leave and like fair enough this whole trial has been going on for way too long i want to leave too but goddammit let me indict you please i'm so tired

didn't phoenix say this to apollo in turnabout trump in regards to the ace /j

brett is going to have tea with the minister of justice which like. how the FUCK do you know them you're studying chemistry or whatever just because you're british does NOT mean you know that guy i'm going insane and losing my mind

GET HER ASS

nosa says he does not have the balls to ask brett if he can hide a stolen item in her food which. fair i wouldn't either and she one million percent killed a man

also why are you shoving you baby back behind your shoulder everyone is aware of him by now

but there was time for snappy naming, apparently

brett is trying to eat her mask now, apparently. doesn't seem like a particularly healthy meal to me but go off ig maybe it's different in britain

the other steak has blood on the plate! hooray! i've won! probably hopefully please god

WHAT THE FUCK THAT SWAN IS ALIVE

goddamn that's a breakdown and a half

is that what you call it

did i call her having a place for a gun in her outfit? i'm so certain i did. it being under her skirt tracks though it's not like anyone could look without. issues.

ma'am this is not a misdemeanor you fucking murdered a man

KAZUMA WHAT

did this bitch just draw his sword in a courtroom and cut off the prosecution's topknot from across the room

AND THEN JUST FUCKING SAY THAT? SAY YOU'RE A HOMOSEXUAL AND GO, SIR

what the fuck is this mission that the judge is talking about

don't like that expression!

oh ryu's on the witness stand for the verdict, that's cute

FJLKASJGLAKSJGLASG AUCHI HASN'T FUCKING MOVED SINCE KAZUMA CUT HIS TOPKNOT THAT'S REALLY FUNNY

post trial time! apparently kazuma's sword is a family heirloom or something. idk what does it mean when someone says "this is the spirit of my family clan"

he's bringing the sword to britain? good fucking luck with that bestie

oh this man is GAY gay huh

ah. brett's not gonna face consequences for her crimes. fuck

oh susato's so nice and helpful and i appreciate her doing my paperwork for me thank you ma'am

idk, mia, belief in your client?

oh shit i was right

wait. wait fuck. wait fuck the next case is case two how bad are these parallels gonna be shit

i'm already attached too FUCK

yeah that's not gonna be a thing for another hundred years or so idk when this game takes place

oh boy kazuma wants to ask me a favor and ryu has already basically agreed so they're clearly dating (please god let me be wrong about the mia parallels)

again, i am an english student or. whatever

she was in the courtroom for five minutes sir

LMAO THE HOSONAGA DISS

and that's the end of the trial! hopefully the next case won't take nearly as long to get out, but we shall see! until next time!

#nadia plays tgaa #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #the adventure of the great departure #ryunosuke naruhodo #susato mikotoba #kazuma asougi #taketsuchi auchi #jezaille brett #satoru hosonaga #kyurio korekuta #iyesa nosa #aido nosa #yujin mikotoba #og post

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askanautistic · 2 years

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My family and I keep getting into fights and they always say I'm the one who started it (post fight), but I always feel like it's them, I get that it's probably me somehow, it's 3 vs 1, it's more likely they're right, but whenever I ask what I did wrong so I can fix it, they tell me I didn't do anything wrong, that shouldn't be bringing it up because it's done and over with, and that I trying to play victim, how do I go about figuring out what I'm doing wrong without asking directly?

I'd suggest that you try to ask someone when they're alone, so that they can't gang up on you. State very clearly that you've noticed this is a common occurrence (that fights break out and that everyone agrees it's because of you) and that you'd like for them to be clear about how you caused the fight so that you can try to prevent it from happening in future. To be honest, I've sometimes found that in order to get answers or to get justice, I've had to cause another fight! By being very stubborn in wanting to know what the problem is, or expressing that I think something is unfair. Sometimes people do listen when you are more forceful about making sure they realise that you want to get to the truth of the matter, or want your side of things to be heard. Or you could try to get an outside perspective. Run the events by a non-biased person in as much detail as you can remember, in hopes that they'll recognise what the issue was and will be able to explain it to you. But if in the heat of the moment they blame you, then later on say that you didn't do anything wrong, perhaps it's more that they recognise you aren't actually doing anything... Perhaps it's your family finding it much easier (in the heat of the moment) to all blame you for it, especially if you are autistic and they aren't (it might be easier to blame it on the non-typical communication - if everyone else communicates neurotypically/allistically, then it's much easier to assume or assign blame towards the person who communicates differently to the majority, regardless of whether it's actually true that their communication was the problem). Later when they realise it's not fair to blame you, and that trying to isolate the specific behaviours that caused the problem (in their eyes) would just be picking on your autisticness, perhaps they backtrack and decide all should be forgotten. There often is a scapegoat for family issues. This can be the ND person, or it can be an age or gender thing. It's easier to blame the youngest person because they're less experienced/powerful, or the oldest sibling (because they are seen as responsible for the younger siblings), or the teenager (because teens are viewed as grumpy and argumentative), or the daughter instead of the son (because of gender expectations). Or it can be another member of the family being viewed as more difficult and it being best to appease them/ignore their behaviour. Sometimes it's easier to blame the person who's less likely to kick off or cause a problem, and allow the problematic person to get away with it. I've seen it in multiple families where everyone else tiptoes around a specific person, allows them to say and do as they please and get away with it, and then it any arguments stem from that person's behaviour it gets blamed on the person who wouldn't just let them have their own way (they can prod and prod all they like, and everyone is expected to just grin and bear it... so the person who reacts gets blamed for the argument).

Tip jar

#family issues #arguments

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phoenix-knight · 1 year

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Femme Fury

I got my period yesterday and damn it,its soo fucking wet, uncomfortable and painful down there, I might murder someone. i just got over some really bad period cramps yesterday and after being incapacitated for half the whole damn day, I had to struggle for a fucking hour with mounting anxiety because my university conveniently decided they're gonna change all official mail to the one they assigned and not google. fuck do they have to make everything so goddamn complicated, like now I can't login to the official mail because I forgot the fucking password. i can't even- I mean, google keeps asking me to answer captchas and type in letters. like I am acting sus because I'm a bot or malware, for fuck's sake, I'm not a bot, I'm just stupid!!! I forgot the password and google won't even use my gmail as a recovery mail so I can reset the password. it says I have to contact the network admin instead. man, if my uni was uncooperative and tiresome enough to put me through this ordeal, what makes google think they're actually gonna help me with something like this? god I hate not knowing shit about anything while every possible password I have tried is wrong and I wanna throw my laptop. i wanted to wash my hair on the weekend, now I am on my period and too busy trying to survive one cramp to the next, too fucking tired to wash my hair now. so I am going to college tomorrow with greasy 4 day hair which is gonna continue until my period decides to spare me enough energy to let me maintain some basic dignity and hygiene. it does not make me feel any better that I am so fucking irritable, I might snap at someone or lose my shit if anything provokes me. is this how men feel everyday, limitless freedom to spite the world even though ur trash urself? god, I wish I could k1ll a few of those ungrateful fuckers. i am soooo tired. godddd. I am so grumpy. i don't want to do anything. maybe this is why there is so much rage inside me. maybe I was born with it. maybe all women are born with it in us. we are not afraid of blood, we see about a litre of it seep out of 7 days a month until menopause. blood is a regular occurrence. violence? been the victim of that in whatever way enough to know how to terrorize people. being treated as less than a human, a product, a piece of meat, an object, a sex toy, a vagina...? we have all been there, done that. we have pain inside us, we have been on the receiving end for all of history. it makes me wonder what would happen if all women turned their rage outside instead of turning it at themselves. its funny how we blame ourselves for everything and take responsibility for the bullshit men throw at us on a daily basis, while feeling insecure about the standards men have set in order to commercialize our insecurity. we were never the fucking problem. and we have to do more than wish for a solution, because this is our problem, and we have to make it their problem. its not a problem if it doesn't affect them, so lets make it affect them. lets tear down the structures and social constructs which benefit them from birth, lets put new meaning to the word feminism instead of the muddy polluted water it has become of the pseudos, lets have girls and boys and everyone else who identifies as women or any other gender start at the same place, with no boxes to tick, checklists to make or unnecessary shoes to fill. destroy the pedestals which make men look down at us with pity, while we scratch at each other to reach the top. reclaim the power which we know exists is all of us, whether we know it or not. we are more than the pain, we are more than our body, we are more than what men think of us, we are more than what men's perceptions of who we are and who we should be, we are more than their small minded one track tunnel vision picture of who a woman is, we are more than their fucked up version of what gender means, we are more than their disdain and disgust at our pain. destroy the constructs that allows them to chill on the sidelines while we fight, let make it their fucking problem because enough is fucking enough.

we all have had enough. i have had enough. UK what fuck you. i will not keep quiet and submit to your beauty standards, leering glances, sexual innuendo, and dirty words. i will not let you shrink me, I will take up space, enough space to make you wanna fight me. i will scream. loud and clear, confident and reliable. i do not need you to attest for my capability. i will stand with pride and you will take me or leave me. i will not bow down. i will not stop. i will not take your bullshit. i will speak boldly, and I will say whatever in the fucking hell I want. YOU WILL JUST HAVE TO SUCK IT UP AND DEAL WITH IT, DUMBFUCKS.

SLAY. SERVE. SURVIVE.

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doritofalls · 1 year

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Thank YOU for answering my ask; it's great to hear your rambles. And the preview of the comic looks lovely! Re. their parents.... yeah. With all the nothing we hear about them, they don't seem to have been around much. Kiyo certainly feels no need to mention them. I've had the thought that they (maybe not consciously or intentionally, but all the same) kept their distance to avoid having to deal with the grief and stress that comes with having a terminally ill child (dealing with your problems extremely poorly at others' expense is an honoured Shinguuji family traditon) which just ends up preparing the ground for the codependendency and toxicity and abuse that was their childrens' relationship. On the surface, their closeness might even have looked desirable - their daughter has a companion and a source of support and their son has a role model he clearly looks up to. Surely This Will Create No Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics. (I am sorry, this is not very coherent. But it's a topic that makes me have too many thoughts and so I ramble)

please don't apologise!! kiyo's one of the 3 things that are constantly rotating in my mind so it's not like there ever was a time i don't want to talk about him. and i know it's hard to keep your thoughts in line in topics you have a lot to say about, and your message is plenty coherent anyway.

Re: kiyo's parents... it feels to me, that if they were a significant deterrent factor, he would have mentioned that at some point - forbidden love and all, it's his thing -, but the way he omits them from his past makes me think they were distant, either physically or emotionally. imo were they a significant source of distress, kiyo would have mentioned that in some connection to the two of them too, but it's just, nothing. they were a non factor. i see kiyo's guardians being portrayed as abusive themselves sometimes, and while it's not out of the question (being a frequent co-occurrence of sibling abuse), i don't think it was necessarily the case. my bet is simply on emotionally neglectful parents putting up a wall with the knowledge that they Will lose their firstborn daughter.

the reason for that could be anything, from being distant on purpose to working hard to support a child that requires such frequent medical care. japan's healthcare system isn't all that bad in my understanding, but the costs will still add up, especially considering that not all treatments that can better someone's quality of life are strictly necessary. with his sister's illness as vague as it is - not like fucking nagito and his 3 pages Diagnosis -, it is really just guesswork, and guesswork based on korekiyo's semi unreliable narration at that. i'm just saying, their parents didn't even have to be bad people necessarily. just people whom were dealt a bad hand, and who ended up continuing to handle the situation bad. of course, that doesn't mean they were necessarily good people, either.

(btw, "dealing with your problems extremely poorly at others' expense is an honoured Shinguuji family tradition" is Extremely funny, and probably true too)

honestly, i agree that from the outside, their close bond would have seemed like a best case sceneiro arrangement. kiyo's constant presence by his sister's side would have allowed their parents to hold that emotional distance while thinking that they had all their needs regarding peers automatically fulfilled. i do think that would have led to kiyo's gradual parentification, as he was able to take over the duty of caring for his sister - and why wouldn't he wanted to? he was already pushed and raised into a role of his sister's companion, it would have only seemed the natural progression of things. it makes me so sad that from where kiyo was standing, things only seemed to progress naturally, and even where his sister was standing, things were progressing the way they were out of a desperation for control and companionship. i can't even truly blame her for how things became, as much as the adults in both of their lives for never noticing the signs and stepping in.

#thank you for your msg! have a nice day #this is not kiyo's sister apologism lmao but her being a teenager certainly complicates things #as far as accountability goes #not that it doesn't end up wounding kiyo deeply for the rest of his life tho #mcfreakin answered #anon #kiyoanon

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depresseddepot · 5 years

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I don't know how to make a keep reading post on mobile so don't read the tags if you don't want to read a vent lmao

#so this is going to sound selfish and stupid and probably entitled and all the other bad things but im tired of pretending #every single oc i make that has depression or every single character i like that has depression has always had a reason #like nobody knows who any of these fucking characters are but hear me out anyways #aepsthis has depression because his mother figure died #my Self Insert TM has depression bc her mother was abusive and her father absent #vaughn has depression because she was sexually assaulted three times before she was old enough to know what that meant #vanessa has depression because her father sexually abused her for years and when she finally met someone who didn't equate sex with (1)#violence he died and their baby was born a miscarriage.#the only character i have that ORIGINALLY didn't have a sound reason for being depressed was emil #but even now ive altered his backstory to make the depression part make more sense #here comes the selfish part uwu #i dont have a reason to be depressed?? like we were poor but my parents never showed it. my dad was scary and threatening but he wasn't mean #my mom would have sat and listened to me if i wanted to talk about something #nobody that i was super close to has died except for pets (dont get me started)#my cousin molested me when i was young and that sucked sure but i was so young that i didnt know what was happening so like #i can't blame all of my problems on that one occurrence #bc the ones i have and the ones that develop after that sort of thing are only minimally connected at best #i give all of my ocs tragic backgrounds to try and make sense of the reason why they have depression #but i dont even have a reason for having it #like im so convinced that im faking it or that other people will thing im being a whiny bitch bc nothing bad has happened to me #im white my parents are still together i can afford things i work at a job i like #i did and still do good in school i have pets and at least a couple hobbies #so im really super fucking confused lol #like i cant just be like #hey i have no reason to be depressed my life is great but hahahhaa i think i have depression uwu #because everyone will think im doing it for attention #idk i know my depression is still valid despite not having any traceable reasoning but #i feel like asking for help just takes up space that could be used to help people who need it more #and i cant ask for help when i feel like their talents would be better spent helping a kid who actually needs and deserves it #neither of the futures i can see for myself are ideal and i dont want to choose between a lesser evil or suicide

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chaeryybomb · 2 years

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and the cold came, the dark days, when fear crept into my mind

pairing: lee felix x gender neutral!reader

genre: hurt with comfort

featuring: yeh shuhua

wordcount: 0.7k

warnings: depressed thoughts

a/n: i needed this

avoiding his calls are something felix had gotten used to after befriending you. even after getting together, these habits were hard to die. it's a common occurrence, really. sometimes you go by days to weeks without contacting and of your friends. you are one to avoid when everything is too overwhelming. and he doesn't blame you for it. he never did.

that's just lee felix, the sweetest boy ever.

so here he stands, in front of your bedroom door. shuhua, your roommate, is the one who lets him in. she too is concerned for your well-being. but knowing you for all these years, she knows only felix can drag you out from the dark hole. she doesn't know how he does it, but it works every time. one time you told her that you think he's an angel sent from heaven, to finally save you from yourself.

felix gently opens your door, your room is dark with the only light source being from the opened door where he stands. you are huddle under the thick blankets, silence engulfs your room with the occasionally sniffs from you. he closes it behind him as he slowly makes his way towards you. your room is small, it only takes him a few steps before he reaches the end of your bed. it's cold, he takes note, loosely reminding him of an animal in hibernation.

sitting next to you, he doesn't say anything but lays a gentle hand on your head. you don't need to switch on the lights to know who it is, in an instant you are in his arms. burrowing your head in his chest as his arms wrap around you. what seems like since forever, you feel safe in his arms. you always did. (once you had jokingly said that his embrace was your home, felix suspected that joke was actually your reality.)

felix is the first person you've seen, felt, in days. you know he will always come to find you, no matter how many times you repeat this dreadful habit. he always come looking for you, and he finds you every time. "i'm sorry," you croak out, "i'm sorry," you repeat the same phrase all over like a mantra.

he never accepts them because it's not your fault, he tells you every time to not apologise but it's always the first thing you say when these days occur. he shushes you and runs his hand through your hear, then he's rubbing comforting circles on your back. the two of you sit like that for a moment, relishing in the comfortable aura he's created.

"do you want to talk about it?' he asks in a whisper.

all the thoughts come crashing in your mind but you can't turn them into words. you inhale deeply, tightening your hold on the boy. felix runs his hand over your back again, planting a kiss on your head, "take your time," he tells you.

"everything was going so well lately," you finally say. you don't raise your head, opting to stay buried in his embrace. "things were going so good, a-and i just," your voice is muffled by his shirt as you take another breath. "then...then everything just went south, problems were just appearing and i couldn't take it," that's when felix feel his shirt getting dampened.

you can't stop the tears, they just keep flowing. "why does life hate me? what did i do to deserve this?" you sob, you clench your fists. "i'm so pathetic," you whisper.

felix moves his hands so they're cupping your face, even in the dark he can tell how tired you are. he rubs the tears away and you let him. "i'm sorry, my love," he says to you. "i'm sorry life has been so hard on you," his voice is soft and gentle, everything about him is just gentle. "i promise you, everything will turn out fine. you don't have to face this alone, my dear, i will be by your side the entire time," he promises you. he promises the same thing all over again and not once has he broken this promise.

you nod, closing your eyes and nodding your head. he leans in to kiss your forehead as the tears dry up. lee felix is your home, your comfort, your everything. you like to think that felix is an apology given to you by life for making you suffer, he's here to patch you up and give you the unconditional love that you deserve. and you will do the exact same thing for him.

#stray kids #skz #felix #lee felix #kpop imagines #kim jennie #skz imagines #lee felix imagines #felix imagines #stray kids x reader #skz jisung #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee yongbok #lee felix angst #stray kids angst #skz angst #felix angst

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colossal-fallout · 3 years

Text

Most embarrassing thing they've done while drunk

Obviously inspired by my own antics. No I haven't necessarily done these.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption. I'm aware 18-20 year olds follow me. (Probably some younger although you shouldn't be, yes I'm telling you off) Drinking alcohol is legal at 18 in the UK. Keep this in mind and don't drink and do dumb stuff. It's not big nor clever.

Trust me.

Eren:

Eren once sent a dick pic to someone else accidentally instead of you.

You were both drinking at a party and you'd both been teasing one another in secret all night long.

He decided to take a cheeky snap of how hard you'd gotten him in the bathroom before realising he'd actually sent it to the group chat.

It had been the last to message him and he was just so used to having your account at the top of the list - in his drunken haste, he just... Sent it.

Armin

Probably the worst thing Armin has done while drunk was the time he threw up all over Reiners new car.

Reiner had been designated driver, but he didn't really mind. He had two beers the entire night and made sure he was full of chips and onion rings from the bar before he took you all home.

To make things worse, the car was full.

You'd noticed he was quiet and looked a little pale next to you as everyone was laughing and joking around. When you asked if he was okay...

"I don't feel so good, babe."

Reiner goes over a speed bump and the rest is history. He tried to blame it on travel sickness but no one was buying it. It went down the footwell under Reiners seat and onto his peddles and shoes. It was a projectile vomit and boy, was it messy.

Mikasa:

Mikasa had one of those moments that we all have at one point. A moment she will murder you for if you ever mention it again.

Mikasa is usually controlled and a great drunk. But this one time... Oh boy.

She'd locked herself in the bathroom, crying and wailing loudly that she loves you and her friends so much she just can't take it.

It took a whole hour for you to convince her to let you in.

"I j-just l-love you all... So much!"

After some cuddles, a blanket and water - she was fine. Poor lass just needed some love.

Sasha:

Sashas incident happened during the winter when it was slippery and icy.

You were all gingerly stepping to the next bar when Connie just... Dissapeared.

There was a loud grating sound, a thump and a groan as he slipped on the ice. But what killed you all was how he kept sliding away on the decline in the pavement on his back, and he couldn't get up.

Sasha had to leave and go home because in her intoxication, she laughed too much and peed herself.

Connie:

Connie has had too many incidents to name. He's always doing something stupid when drunk. But to name a few...

The time mentioned above where he slipped on ice.

Once broke his arm trying to pull a stunt and leaping down the stairs.

Was sick all over Eren's living room.

Cried one time because he thought he'd killed a spider outside.

Connie is just a liability on a night out and should be wrapped in bubble wrap.

Reiner:

Reiners worst was the time he was so drunk he began to sob saying it's because he loves you so much.

Luckily it was just the two of you. Unfortunately, it was during sex.

He also passed out once you calmed him down.

Porco:

This is a common occurrence but not too often where it becomes a huge problem.

If Porco has too much of the wrong drink, he gets aggressive and starts fights or arguments, usually over you.

"That guy is checking you out."

"So? Just ignore him babe."

He'll try. If he doesn't switch to water he will end up throwing hands.

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

Text

Response to an ask from Ophelia who asked that the content be cut:

Of course! It's no problem at all to answer things like this and doesn't bother me in the slightest. Do whatever you need to do to be comfortable. Also I do remember the ask you're talking about and want you to know that it's not ridiculous and I actually understand and relate to everything you said in it! But I will ignore it as requested--but there wasn't anything ridiculous! If you'd like I can still answer it though!

very glad that my less emotional response isn't a problem as I'm not great at those, but I can try and think through things with you! You're not making me feel bad or weighing me down at all.

I think I get what you mean about not knowing what you're doing with yourself. Everything goes into the moment you're experiencing and makes it feel impossible to even try thinking ahead of it or planning for a time in your life where you're not just trying to get through the next thing. Personally, a lot of teachers have asked me about college and where I want to go meanwhile I'm here like if I can get through the next week that'll be superb.

it is easy to look back at your younger self and blame them for everything you're struggling with, but I personally don't find it helps me in the long-term and I end up feeling guilty for being so mad at someone who truly didn't know better. For example, I have absolutely no idea how to study for the life of me because I never learned as a kid, but kid me had no way of knowing that was something she (I refer to my past self with she/her pronouns but please don't use them for me) needed to prepare for. Wasn't even on her radar and I can't blame her for that. I don't know if that'll help you, but I've been trying to just focus on me now instead of blaming past me and taking it all out on her when she was just a confused and terrified kid.

for the daydreaming thing, you are not alone with that! I'd advise you to look into madd, which is maladaptive daydreaming disorder. It's not currently in the DSM-5 and there's no official diagnosis, so right now those of us with it are entirely self-diagnosed. It has been recognized as like a thing for a while, but it's not--at least to my knowledge--currently professionally diagnosable. I have it, which is what prompts me to share this with you in case you have it too because I recognize a lot of what you're talking about.

I frequently talk about daydreaming or mention it in passing on this blog, but I downplay how consuming it is a lot. It's a daily occurrence and has been for years. There are characters and entire worlds in my mind that I cannot stay away from and the thought of letting them go terrifies me even though it interferes with my ability to just exist.

I can't watch movies, listen to music, even read the news or watch a 5 second clip without my mind trying to create a daydream around it. I'll get halfway through answering an ask and want to take a break to go back and visit my characters. They are, in a sense, inescapable.

And it's not subtle for me, either. Part of madd is that for a lot of us there's a repetitive motion that goes along with it, whether that's snapping your fingers, rocking back and forth, or something else. For me, it's pacing. Pacing around the room, spinning in circles. I have to be up and moving otherwise everything gets all distorted. But I don't even realize it and minutes will just fly by. My parents have knocked on my door at like 11pm because they were worried something was wrong because I was pacing so loudly.

I literally told my therapist when I met her that daydreaming is one of my hobbies. It's all consuming. Time just flies by and yet i'm daydreaming for an eternity. There's the moments where I'm completely away from reality and then I'll snap back and realize what I'm doing, but I always consciously go back to it like you said. And then getting caught in the middle of it is so embarrassing at times because I'm not fully controlling what I'm doing; I'm in my mind and my body does things without me.

The anxiety after being pulled from a daydream is definitely disorienting. I don't know if I experience that part as strongly as you do, but it's always a moment of adjustment and just wishing I could go back a few seconds to when i was still in my head. \

Then there's the really difficult part of it where you don't want to stop. These are your characters! You're world! You've spent so long with them so how could you possibly give them up and move on. They bring joy and comfort and peace, even when you're putting them through horrible situations and ruining them. It's comforting, still. Everything leads back to them, so it feels like without those daydreams there is nothing. A huge part of you would be missing and you wouldn't know what to do with yourself, at least for me.

I think that could relate to you saying all your hobbies revolve around daydreaming, everything leading back to them. My sense of style, the way I compose myself, my writing, my art, it's all because of them. I sometimes literally ask myself "what would this character do right now" and then that's how I decide what I, in real life, need to do.

In my experience, it's not how everyone lives, no. But you're not alone in it. And it is difficult when you create a world so perfect or so much better in your mind to appreciate and accept the one you actually live in.

I will say that suicidal thoughts in general aren't good and are something to be addressed regardless of daydreams, but having such a complicated relationship to them is valid. Daydreaming like this brings up so much complexity because it creates solace and peace but it can also make other things worse, leading you down a rabbit hole relying on it to soothe the problems it causes.

It doesn't sound ridiculous or pathetic. It sounds like you're frustrated and confused with yourself, or at least that's how I am a lot of the time when I think about my daydreaming. I don't know if madd is something that would resonate with you, but I think it's at least worth checking out because you seem to be describing a lot of the symptoms. You're not alone on this. I'll actually probably get distracted after answering your ask with a daydream and forget to do the assignment I literally have open next to me until several hours later.

Daydreaming is seen as fun, and it can be, but its fun in moderation. Too much of a good thing can be absolutely awful and daydreaming isn't excluded from that. I hope this can help you in some way, because I do think I understand at least part of what you're talking about!

#I both look forward to and dread daydreaming every day #because I love my characters and their world #but I know I'm going to indulge too much and be unable to stop myself #and my work will suffer because of it #so many things that could've been done sooner and better #but I didn't have the chance because I just wanted to keep daydreaming #quil's queries #ophelia nonsie

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buckysforeverprincess · 4 years

Text

Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 19

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2086

Warning: Drug use-marijuana, talk of sex

A/N: I am so sorry about not sticking with my schedule. So, I’m not gonna say much, just let you read. Enjoy!

***TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED***

The holidays came and went, and before you knew it, spring had almost sprung. Things had settled down and everyone found a routine that worked out, all of you doing your part to get things done. It wasn't all sunshine and roses, but the frustration was minimal and usually came from you and your twin and those things always worked themselves out.

Shortly after Bucky had moved in, he told your mom he wanted to get a job to help with the money situation. He knew having the extra person in the house would be a financial burden on her and he wanted to do his part. Sarah Rogers, the bad ass she was, was having none of that. “Your education is more important than a few extra dollars. I'll worry about the money, you worry about getting good grades,” she told him over dinner one evening. There was no winning against Sarah and the conversation was quickly dropped, never to be brought up again.

What none of you knew was Sarah Rogers was already receiving a check each month, courtesy of one George Barnes. When George returned from his getaway, Sarah went to the Barnes home and had a not so nice conversation with the deadbeat douche. Since George had abandoned and neglected his sixteen-year-old son, it was in his best interests to cooperate and pay monthly for his son’s expenses while staying in the Rogers home. George did not want Child Protective Services involved or anyone for that matter and he wasn’t about to have his image tarnished or his name slung through the mud, so letting the money go was the best way to not have to deal with his son and that’s something he could live with.

George also had no problem signing over guardianship of James to Sarah, having no desire to parent Bucky. Sarah was willing to step up and be legally responsible for the boy and felt he’d been neglected enough by the people that called themselves his parents. It was time an adult took an interest in him, nourishing and encouraging him along the way, making him aspire to achieve greatness and know his worth. Sarah Rogers would always go the extra mile for her kids, and she’d already accepted Bucky as one of her own.

March had just begun, and with that came Bucky's birthday. You were happy to spend his seventeenth birthday with him, but there was more to it than that. His birthday marked your five-month anniversary. It wasn't a six-month milestone people normally celebrated, but you wanted to make it special and memorable for the both of you.

It’d been five months and sex still hadn’t happened between you. Bucky was amazing at not pushing and letting you take the lead but it didn't mean all things were off the table. You've seen this dick, touching it and stroking him to orgasm, hand jobs becoming a normal occurrence in your bedroom. And in return, Bucky brought you to climax courtesy of his tongue and boy did he know how to use it! Your vagina had the pleasure of getting really acquainted with the masterpiece that was his mouth and he completely ruined you for anyone else in the future.

Even though you'd shared those intimacies, you still couldn't bring yourself to have penetrative sex. You'd tried several times, but it just wasn't happening. Bucky said it was okay, and was never upset, but you felt like a failure. How could you touch his cock and let him eat you out, but the moment his cock comes anywhere near your vagina, you freak! You needed help getting through this and needed someone to talk it out with.

Pulling out your phone, you went to your messages and brought up the conversation with your best friend, typing out a message and hitting send.

Y/N: Nat, I want to have sex with Bucky.

Nat: Well hello to you too, sunshine.

Y/N: Yeah, hi. Back to my original problem…..

Nat: Is that a question?

Y/N: Nat!!! Help me!!

Nat: You put the weed in the coconut and light that shit up.

Y/N: OMFG!! Fuck off… wait, you have weed?

Nat: *sigh* Well, unless you want to body swap, I'm pretty sure you're on your own.

Y/N: Ugh! Why are you so difficult?!

Nat: Because, I am the love of your life, (not Bucky. I've been with you longer), and the only one that puts up with the needy bitch you are.

Y/N: Then help me!!!!

Nat: You're so whiny. Take a fucking xanax already!

Y/M: I did, not helping!

Nat: Then eat a dick and shut your bitchy mouth.

Y/N: I can't… Bucky's not home!! And it's not my mouth that's talking, it's my fingers.

Nat: Then put them in your vag and leave me alone.

Y/N: Fine, you're not my BFF anymore. Guess I'll be giving myself to Bucky forever. You can no longer have my body when I die.

Nat: Shut up snatch, I'm on my way.

Y/N: Bring weed?

Nat shows up twenty minutes later, kisses you on the cheek and hands you a baggy. “DO NOT let your mom know! Momma Rogers will murder me!”

“I'll just blame it on Clint. He came over the other day smelling like skunk. Mom rushed them to the hospital and had ‘em drug tested. Steve's grounded by the way, if he didn't tell you already. He also lost his car for a month and mom is making him volunteer at the hospital.”

Nat shakes her head and the two of you head to your bedroom, locking the door behind you,

lighting some candles and opening the window. Nat takes a joint out of the bag and lights it up, inhaling deep and handing it over. You repeat the process and the two of you continue passing it back and forth, not saying a word until you feel the drug take over.

“So, you wanna have sex with Bucky.”

Nodding, you take another puff. “Fuck yeah, I do.” You pass the joint back to her.

“What's stopping you?”

“Brock.” The name just rolled off your tongue without hesitation, mostly due to being blazed.

“I'm gonna say some shit cause we're high as fuck and it’s the only way I can say it...” she stops and glares at you waiting for approval to continue and you nod, giving her the go ahead. “Stop letting that fucker control you!! Not every dick is Brock's and Bucky seems like he has a nice size cock-”

“It is very nice…,” you interrupt, “Oh! And big too!”

Nat looks at you annoyed. “Don't interrupt me. Will you just fuck your man already! Once you do, I promise, you'll never want to stop.”

You sit in silence and try to process her directness. “Ok, but how?”

Nat rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I assume you know the logistics of fucking.” She takes another hit of the joint.

You sigh. “I can't just be like ‘hey Bucky, stick your dick in my vagina and fuck me!’”

“The fuck you can’t!” Nat raises her voice but then passes you the diminishing joint. “Just sit on his lap and ride him like the brahma bull he is.”

Taking another puff, you furrow your eyebrows, confusion evident on your face. “Wait… what's a brahma bull?”

Nat rolls her eyes hard. “You know, The Rock?!”

You shrug. “Don’t know him. Should I?”

“Oh, my fucking god, I can’t with you!” She bursts out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

You sit on your bed, your high at its peak, and you stare at your best friend. There's something you need to ask and now seems like the best time not knowing if you’ll ever muster up the courage to ever say these words again. “Nat… why didn't you stop me?”

Your best friend stops and sits up, her face going slack. “Would you have listened?”

Nodding, you lower your head. That wasn’t the only question you had but for the next one you couldn’t look her in the eye. “How long, Nat?”

“I don't follow?”

You look up at her, your eyes meeting hers. “Don't play dumb… how long?”

Nat shakes her head. “Does it matter now?”

You reach out and place a hand on top of hers. “It matters to me.”

“It changes nothing, right?!” She lifts her head and sighs. “Since middle school. I've been in love with you since middle school. Happy now? How’d you even know?!”

“I’ve always kinda knew, just had a feeling. And you should've said something. Things would’ve been a lot different and that ass bag would never have happened.”

Nat smiles. “You wouldn't be with Bucky, because I’d never let you go.” She leans in and kisses your cheek, making you blush. “You deserve Bucky. He's your forever and I'm just your very best friend.”

Grabbing her face softly, you look her in the eyes. “You're more than my best friend and no one could ever replace you in my life. Without you, I'd be lost. Bucky may be my forever, but you have my soul.”

Nat grabs you and pulls you into a fierce hug. “I love you, принцесса.”

“I love you, too.” It comes out muffled.

There’s a knock at the door, making you jump out of Nat’s tight embrace. “Baby, you in there?!” Bucky’s voice comes from the other side.

“Fuck, Nat! Hide the shit!” Nat grabs the baggie and puts it in her jacket.

“Honey? You ok?” He knocks again and you hear him jiggle the doorknob.

“Just a second, I'm coming!” You yell at the door. “Spray my perfume!” You point to the bottle on your dresser and watch as she grabs it and begins spraying around the room.

You move to the door and open it to see your boyfriend standing there, a look of concern on his face. “Hi!” You say, the grin on your face not hiding anything.

Bucky eyes you and then Nat and inhales deeply. “Are you high?”

“Who me? I don't know what you're talking about?” You try to hold back a laugh, but it doesn't work. “It's her fault!” You point at Nat but turn back to see Bucky's mad face.

Nat shrugs. “Hey, I just supplied it, didn't tell you to smoke it.”

Bucky huffs and shakes his head. “You know if your mom finds out she'll give you a worse punishment than Steve, right?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and put your face close to his. “So, don't tell and I'll make it worth your while.” You lean in and kiss him softly.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Better clean up and get the smell out. I'm not sleeping in here if it still stinks. I refuse to endure the wrath of Sarah Rogers.” He gives you a chaste kiss. “I'll go start dinner. Nat.” He tips his head and walks out, leaving you with your best friend.

“He sleeps in here now?” Nat asks and grabs her coat, putting it on.

“Yep. Told mom we weren't having sex because I wasn't ready. He told her it wasn't a deal breaker and he could wait. Guess it was enough.”

She chuckles. “And now you want to have sex. How fitting, just don't get caught.”

You smirk. “Do I ever?”

Nat rolls her eyes and stands up from the bed. “I'm gonna go. Give me a hug bitch!” Nat holds out her arms and you step into her embrace.

“Thanks for coming through and for the talk, but Bucky effectively killed my buzz.”

Nat laughs just a little, amused by your comment. “I'll see myself out, you rest. Sleep that shit off.” She starts to walk out of your room but stops in the doorway and turns back around. “You know you really didn’t need me to talk you through this. You’re ready for the next step. Stop doubting yourself. He’s not him, never will be. Get your man and make me proud.” She winks and then disappears through the door.

Throwing yourself on the bed you know she’s right. Bucky will never be Brock so there’s nothing to worry about. This time around it’ll mean something to both of you and things could never be as fucked up as it was when you both lost your virginity to other people. You’re ready and it’s time to give yourself completely to each other, and you know the perfect time and place to make that happen.

* принцесса-Princess

COLS Tags:

@ellallheart @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @bookgirlunicorn @widowsmaximoff @jhangelface0523 @broco8 @eliza5616 @nighttwingg @bloodyproudpotterhead @sexyvixen7 @marvelismysafezone @orions-stars3 @ava1453 @beardburnsupersoldiers @afterlaughter27 @booboobella01

Forever Tags:

@jamesbarnesappreciationclub @kruscht @palaiasaurus64 @breezy1415 @sarahp879 @supernaturaldean67 @averyrogers83 @scarlettsoldier @lovely-geek @titty-teetee @geeksareunique @peaceinourtime82 @leosandbuckysgirl @the-goddess-of-mischief @mychemicalimagines @awkwardfangirl2014 @collette04 @notyourtypicalrose @onebatch--twobatch @miraclesoflove @kcd15 @xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @thatfanficstuff @hotoffthepressfics @chuuulip @unlikelygalaxygiver @lancetuckershairgel @babypink224221 @mybabe-buckybarnes @shield-agent78 @the-real-kellymonster @caplanreads

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky x reader #natasha romanoff x reader bff #marijuana use #drug use #can our love survive #high school au #marvel #marvel au

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majimemegoro · 4 years

Note

BIG Y3 SPOILERS AHEAD: Does it feel to you that they glossed over Kashi's de*th real quick? Of course Kiryu had to book it real fast but there was nobody like "omg I can't believe this happened are you okay what will the Tojo clan do now" or big sads for him esp. compared to what happened in the bull ring later. Like Kashiwagi has been there for maybe as long as Kazama!

I have actually thought about this a lot. so brace yourself for a whole pile of nonsense speculation, because Kiryu’s reaction (or relative lack thereof) to Kashiwagi’s death is one of the fundamental pieces of evidence informing my interpretation of their relationship, AND Kiryu’s response to the events of 2005. Spoilers follow for Y1/kiwami as well as Y3. also discussion of suicide and grief and etc. so be warned. (Disclaimer: the interpretation to follow by no means rules out the possibility of another explanation, viz., Bad Writing. But what is most fun for me is to try and find compelling in-text ways to account for what happens, even if the ‘real’ reason for these occurrences is that the writers don't care about narrative consistency as much as i do lololol)

So what do we have? Kiryu barely reacts to Kashiwagi’s death. WHAT? WHY? Kiryu’s original family was Kazama, Nishiki and Yuko, Yumi, and, secondarily, Kashiwagi. With Kashiwagi being the only one left after the events of 2005, you would think that Kiryu would have grown closer to him, and would be absolutely devastated by his loss. Neither can you explain Kiryu’s lack of response away by a general emotional numbness or depression; prior to or subsequent to Y3 you could, but, well... other events in Y3 prove that Kiryu is indeed capable of feeling and expressing intense grief :)

So then why the lack of response to Kashiwagi’s death in particular?

I think Kiryu has a lot of lingering resentment and anger and horror regarding the events of 2005. (Nishiki, who messed up so badly and killed himself and, potentially, all of them, while making eye contact with Kiryu; Kazama, who did nothing for ten years while Nishiki got to that point.) But Kiryu can’t vent that resentment on the deceased, because he loves them too much and they're dead, you can't be angry at your father-figure who died protecting a little girl, you can't be angry at your best friend who committed suicide. (and I think we tend to gloss over that Nishiki DID commit suicide, in the end. He delayed it from when he had originally intended to do it after Yuko’s death, but. Ultimately he does kill himself.) We see in Kiryu’s immediate reaction to Kazama’s death that, consciously or unconsciously, he makes the choice not to hold Kazama to account for his (many, grievous) mistakes.

And I think all of that mess ends up projected onto Kashiwagi, the only survivor. Kashiwagi is fair game because Kiryu was never as close to him as the others, and because he is alive. “how could nishiki do this” and “how could Kazama and Kashiwagi let this happen” turn to “how could Kashiwagi let this happen,” and Kashiwagi becomes the sole receptacle of all of Kiryu’s rage and grief regarding the way that things turned out in 2005.

Now Kiryu is not the kind to go beating people up without a reason and he’s not the kind to exact revenge. So he doesn’t break ties with Kashiwagi or yell at him or punch him; he just quietly, poisonously withdraws from him. There isn't much evidence that they have anything more than a professional relationship following the events of 2005. Kiryu can be in the same room with Kashiwagi without causing a scene or glaring at him or ignoring him outright. But Kiryu cannot be in the same room with Kashiwagi without remembering, and without blaming.

So when Kashiwagi dies, it’s kind of - oh. he's dead. I’ve lost him. But I lost him already when I learned that he was capable of just standing by while all that happened to nishiki. Kiryu barely reacts when Kashiwagi dies because Kiryu already got used to the idea of not having Kashiwagi - Kashiwagi the sort-of-uncle, who cares about him and makes good decisions and is stronger and more experienced than him and can fix any problem, is already gone. As far as Kiryu is concerned, that man died along with Kazama and Nishiki and Yumi.

I think that’s a depressing but compelling interpretation. The fact that other people don’t bring it up to Kiryu is also plausibly explained along these lines - we don’t see Kiryu talk about any of his losses very much at all, he is generally a private dude, and I think he might tend to send out signals that certain topics are off-limits. And who’s going to force Kiryu Kazuma to talk about his feelings when he doesn’t want to?

Finally. We see this pattern of non-coping with loss repeated, in the way that we never see Kiryu talk about or process the other big death in Y3 either :)

#kashiwagi osamu #kiryu kazuma #majimeta #nishikiyama akira #kazama shintaro #this is really long I'm sorry #im procranstinating #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza 3 #meta

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etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

***

Rubble. And debris. And destruction.

Every place their eyes landed, there's nothing but the cold and harsh reality of the complete and utter destruction of the one place they called home. Despite the fact that they hardly called it that due to its,... unnatural and chaotic nature.

And now,... there's no more unnatural, or even chaotic, place called home.

Devil May Cry,... was destroyed. Reduced to a pitiable pile of smithereens.

And Dante, the son of Sparda, and the Legendary Devil Hunter, couldn't blame anyone else for the unfortunate occurrence other than the other person who survived the sudden assault.

The man,... who was standing next to him.

"HEY! WHAT DO YA THINK YE'RE DOIN'?!" A very curious - looking demonic bird with glowing blue feathers screeched at the Devil Hunter, who grabbed his Master's lapels and almost lifted the poor man off the ground.

"This is your fault, V!" Dante howled.

"And how is this," The man called V wheezed as he grabbed Dante's hand, trying to get the larger man off him. " ... my fault?!"

"You shouldn't have broken her heart! Now, look what happened to the shop!" Dante let go of the helpless V as he scanned the area for any piece of furniture that survived the onslaught. "Freaking Elves,... hey!" The man called, trying to get the attention of the one Elf who saved them from the attack. "Where do ya think you're going? You're just leaving us here after what happened?"

The Elf in question turned towards the men, her blue eyes full of scrutiny and disgust. "I have saved you, lowly mortals, from your own demise, and yet you mock my own kind?!" She glanced at V and gave him a look of utter hatred. "And my own sister, the future Queen of our land, falling for the likes of you?! You, who will perish of old age or wilt of illness? You, who are loyal only to the desires of your own flesh?

"You, a mortal who stooped so low as to make a pact with,... Demons?" The Elf emphasized the word as if she was disgusted with the mere mention of such Underworld beings, and this offended the demonic familiar so much that V has to summon him back to prevent even more conflict with her. "How,... shameful!" She turned once more and walked away from both Dante and V.

"Hey, hey, hey, lady!" Dante, who easily caught up with her, stopped the Elf, grabbed her shoulder, and forcefully made her turn to face him, which angered the being even more. "Just walkin' away after all this, huh? And what about my shop? You and your Elves caused this! I'm neck deep in debt. I can't afford to rebuild this! You'll have to pay for the damage!" The man turned around just in time to see more and more people gathering right before them to witness what was going on.

"I don’t care! You should not have hurt and cornered her to use her power to begin with! Maybe then she would not be traced here in the first place! But, of course, you, mortals, have weak, pathetic, and closed minds!" The Elf swatted Dante's hand off her, turned once more, and went on walking.

"How could we know? We didn't even know she has powers in the first place!" Dante argued.

"That's because you, men, are so dense." The Elf answered with much emphasis on the word as she gave V a sideways glance. "And now, my sister has to pay for exposing our kind to the likes of you!"

"The Elves who caused this, the ones who traced her here," V, who was trying to catch up with both Dante and the Elf, added. " ... they will not stop until we’re both dead, will they?”

"Naturally. You just know too much." The Elf answered with disdain. "Now, if you, two ingrates, would not mind, I would return to my home and see for myself just how much damage my sister's blunder have caused because of you."

"Where is your home?" Dante questioned.

"It does not concern you."

"And how do we, weak, pathetic, and closed - minded mortals, defend ourselves from your kind, O Great One?"

The Elf, who didn't fail to catch the sarcasm in Dante's voice, stopped walking and placed her hands on her hips. "That is your problem!" She, then pointed an accusing finger at Dante. "You know what, I should not have helped you when all the payment I got for doing that is you pestering me with questions I will never answer! I' am also putting myself in grave danger here just by talking with you!" She raged on, then looked once more at V. "I should have let you die because you deserved it!" The woman turned away and finally left them.

Dante sighed as he watched her leave, crossing his arms and feeling the exhaustion creep up his system for the first time that day. He, then, looked at V and saw the man actually catching his own breath like he has just finished running a marathon.

If the Legendary Devil Hunter only knew,...

... the mysterious man known only as V has more things in his mind during that moment. He was confused, tired, shocked, even.

And he has,... a lot of questions.

Questions that needed answers.

"So," V looked up upon hearing the confidence in Dante's voice. " ... wanna go after the chick you just rejected?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You have a score to settle with her and I have to make those Elves pay for what they did to my shop. What do you say about following that high and mighty Elf back where she lives?"

"A score,... to settle?"

"Eh, yeah! None of this would happen if you didn't break her heart in the first place."

V winced at those words. Did he,... really break a girl's heart?

"I,... don't even,..." Like her, is what V wanted to say but, then again, he has made it quite clear to her.

And up until that very moment, he still couldn't shake the haunting image off his mind. Of her wide (E/C) eyes, of her tear - stained cheeks,...

... of the way she drew back and clutched her chest as if something unimaginable and really painful struck her heart,...

"I know. But," Dante answered in a much calmer tone. " ... you know how women are. Well, yes, she's an Elf but, sure! They're all the same. You know what I'm saying?"

"No."

"Oh. Right." The Devil Hunter answered, realizing that V doesn't have any experience with women unlike him. "The point is, we're both doomed here, V. And if what that Elf said about other Elves going after our necks because we know too much about them is true, then we might as well go to their den and face them head on! Bring the fight to them!”

"But, they're much stronger than the both of us. You've seen it with your own eyes."

"Eh, whatever!" Dante questioned as he started stretching his limbs in a clear gesture that he was fully accepting the challenge. "We'll see about that!" The man picked up his Devil Sword on the ground among the rubble and started walking towards the direction the female Elf went to. "Come on, Mister Poetry! She's quite slow, we're gonna catch up to her as soon as we could!" And with a smile, he added, "And you might as well use that poetry of yours to win back that girl. Or you could just say sorry, your call."

V wasn't able to do anything else but to pick up his metal cane from the rubble and go after the man in red. It's true what Dante said about those Elves paying for the destruction of the Devil May Cry but,...

... going after the girl, and facing her head on?

He knew that the catalyst to all of these events was him, his distrust, and his callousness. However, he never dreamed of breaking a girl's heart, let alone one who has enough power and influence to bring forth this chain of events that were starting to unfold right before his very own eyes,...

***

🌙

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#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #to you who rejected me #v x elf!reader #v x you #prologue #dante sparda

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mekha-draws · 5 years

Text

The Firefly

(this story works as a pt.2? Of a previous work as it expands a bit on what happens after the acknowledgement of the missing scrolls from the clan) gonna post that later I guess lol

Today was not my day. It has been like this for a while, and all I can find to blame are those pesky bugs that follow my friends around.

They don't seem to notice them too, or perhaps are too busy to be bothered by them, I can't blame them though, bugs are common occurrence in these places near the Garden. Our lair is quite spacious to be able to maintain such thing deep underwater.

I'm rambling now, I know. Maybe I'm starting to take on a bit too much from my parent, but they are my one direct family, even though we are not related at all. This brings me to the problem at hand.

Since that day we caught notice on some missing records and scrolls from our shelves, Tucker and Sidewinder chose to keep a closer eye to any visitors wether they be clanmembers or not. For some sort of 'security reasons' we had to move the most valuable papers to a safer area (one not-so-happily provided by the vault keeper herself), they were mostly the oldest records kept and other things I hadn't been around to know about; to be honest I thought of them as useless waste... This clan seems to have dealt with quite heavy issues within itself and they feel the need to keep their mistakes written as some sort of reminder? Sure, peace and partnership has been enjoyable but I'm not of the idea of keeping old rags on the metaphorical chest of the past; but it's not my place to discuss such matters, I simply nod and carry on with my duties.

Today I was assigned to guard some medical records. This one came as a sort of surprise as it never crossed my mind that our healers kept such tight and complete registry of any cases they have dealt with (they seemed like such traditionalist practitioners, more fond of old customs and such). And so I became burdened with the responsibility move those heavy documentations to the vault. I could have asked for help, but despite the trust I have for my fellow clanmates, I felt that I had to do this one for myself.

That was a mistake. Not even a couple of hours later I found myself overwhelmed by the task, I underestimated how big this place could be and in my desperate attempt to just get the job done I decided to take onto the lesser tracked paths carved unto the cave, for once taking advantage of my size.

I knew of these from childhood and I could often catch sight of young hatchlings making use of the carved tunnels to get somewhere new to explore. We don't know how they came to be (I was told they were here since the moving from the old lair, but I can't say any better), but they work perfectly as shortcuts across the lair given you know your way around. I committed to my memory and climbed onto the closest hole of the library (the one behind the deepest shelves) and climbed upwards.

Sure, using this method would take me a while as I could only carry so much into such reduced space, but the trips would become shorter between each other and that was enough for me. As I carried on I found myself astounded by the great amount of newly carved tunnels, some bigger in size than others, (perhaps the work of the bigger kids?) after all it had been a while since I traversed this place.

A firefly flew by my side and behind it a small group came around entering the place. Curiosity took the best of me and thus led me to find out the end of a curiously carved path surrounded by the faint light the bugs emitted.

As I went on following the small bugs something lurched in my stomach as I touched along the edges of the tunnel, I could feel ragged borders and somehow, they felt desperate, like something that tried too hard to break the stone but then receded. The fireflies seemed to stop once they knew I was standing back and only resumed flight when I started to move again. In that brief moment it felt like something had watched me and wanted to say something but it stopped. Once the bugs stopped around me it felt like someone's eyes were trained on me, it felt odd.

I arrived to an open cave only illuminated by the small bugs and for the life of me I couldn't hear a thing from the outside (it had been a while, but only in the moment of my arrival did the thought cross my mind), I felt like I had entered some sort of foreign lair but deep inside I knew I was still within Bleuspont.

The fireflies dispersed and went off but in their faint, fading light I saw a face similar to mine in race, but different to an extent. I could only step back in a remote feeling of fright as I instinctibly held closer the scrolls I had forgotten I had. The thing looked up at me and I saw again eyes very similar to mine but they were... Heavier...? Like they belonged to something so, so old.

The bugs lighted up again and so the odd images inside my head faded away as I could properly see the dragon in front of me. It was a spiral, so much like myself but so much bigger as well, her eyes were a deep shade of orange with a deep fade to Black on the corners, they wore an arrangement of pieces and clothes that I had seen somewhere, maybe they were taken? Many things had gone missing in this place before, I wouldn't doubt they took them for themselves; the fireflies nested across their form still glowing faintly, many more lighted around us giving light to the darkened cave

In the now illuminated place I could see bundles and piles of trinkets and stuff, some of it things I knew had been missing as well; the dragon motioned to the scrolls I carried and gestured to themselves, I immediately declined whatever they had in mind but they didn't seem to like my answer and raised a clawed hand towards a nearby firefly, they whispered something to it and let it off to glow over my face. I tried to pry the bug away but I was held by the mysterious dragon with way too much ease. Everything went dark after that.

Once I woke up I was at the very entrance of that tunnel but the scrolls were nowhere in sight. My head pounded horribly inside and something like words kept repeating themselves over and over...whatever they mean, I don't care (or I don't want to care) but it would be difficult to explain the now missing papers to my clanmates.

The gargled words soon became clear in my mind but their message did nothing to reassure me, they only made the trek back to the library feel heavier...

"trust me, we are better off fixing this. We know better than Them"

I don't know if I should agree, but since the encounter it has been impossible to dismiss the weird quantity of fireflies that wander across this place at any moment.

I haven't felt alone since then, and it's difficult to say if this all feels any safer or not. I'm faintly worried about that.

#flight rising #fr #bleuspont lore #aedan #virtuet #flight rising lore

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