#violent death mention for ts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yourclownpal · 3 years

Text

A comprehensive list of all my Ghost au's

this post will be talking about all of the ghost au's ive created or co-created including talking about ghost au's from old fandom's that i am no longer in. if you want to ask about any of my au's my ask box and dm's are always open this includes the hermitcraft au but keep it to a minimum please also if any of the creator's of the characters have said that they arent comfortable with what im making ( with proof ofc) i will edit or delete what is needed to fit in the boundaries also another thing this is a long post if you just want the art go under the cut! this post will discuss how each au works and basic plot stuff about them the fandoms in this post are hermitcraft, epithet erased, and dsmp okay first things first-

my hermitcraft au (what a pity)-

On my old tumblr account I made a few posts about it along with a fanfic which never got finished due to me not wanting to interact with the fandom any more due to personal reasons and also I'm not very good at writing imo but I think I'm ready to talk about it again. Just keep in mind i will most likely not talk about this fandom ever again at least not on here again for personal preference : -) it was about season 6 Grian since he was who i was hyperfixating on at the time, being haunted by the ghosts of Sam and Taurtis, both of them from the old roleplay series' Yandere High School, and Tokyo Soul, and taurtis from Grians old-ish smp Evo. Since I never finished the fanfiction nobody but me and close friends ever got to hear the full story i had planned but now you will i guess. It was mainly just grian stressing about Sam and Taurtis being ghosts and him worrying about being crazy, though he would still join the hippies during the area 77 war he would be significantly more stressed especially when finding out that Sam and Taurtis have been possessing his body during the night, he’s more worried about Sam though because of his track record back in the other servers( yhs and ts) it was going to be that Sam (although death isn't permanent) would go on a killing spree in Grians body which would cause the area 77 guys to put him in the facility to see what's going on with him, and it didn't get further then that. My favorite part of this au much like all of my au’s were the design elements i had for it which i'll have under the cut with the other designs. Now for a rundown of how the ghost physics work in this world, in typical ghost fashion Sam and Taurtis were not able to touch or move anything, but they were able to interact with Grian, him being the only person who could see/hear/or touch them. Their only super natural abilities is being able to possess Grian.

Okay! Time for my Epithet Erased au!: Unlike what a pity this one doesn't have a name or a fanfic to go with it as said before i'm not exactly a writer but i have talked about it a bit before on this account along with posting the designs and general concept but i'll go more in depth here! As said in my original post this au was a co-creation with my best friend and sibling @brocolibean so go check bun out ^^ Unlike ‘What a Pity’ it was more lighthearted and comedy centric because it dealt with a bit more and also the original show is a comedy. This au didn't include the character’s epithets so they are all humans. This will also include talking about house each ghost died so if your uncomfortable hearing about that you might want to skip the ghosts portion Just like the original post I'll separate the story summary into 3 parts with intervals in between to talk about the ghosts. First we have the Banzai boys part of the story. Giovanni, Spike, Dark Star, Crusher, Flame Thrower, Car Crash, and Ben all decide to move into a house together so they could all easily split the rent since its close to their collage, the house, which they get for cheap, is aa very old house with sketchy history. But it's a huge house for cheap so they don't complain they encounter the ghosts very early on living in the house and they swear to figure out how they died so they can get their memory back! The ghosts, Molly, Sylvie, Trixie, and Pheonica have no memory! All they know is that there are ghosts! They are connected to the property of this house but if you where to get something- like perhaps a stone from the property the ghost is still technically attached to it therefore the ghost can go with you anywhere Speaking of- -Phoenicia Fleecity is one of the last ghosts to show herself, her body is found in the overgrown garden flowers growing over her skeleton, she is from the victorian era making her the oldest out of the ghosts though he death is the most mysterious -Molly Blindeff is the first ghost the group meets her decomposed body is found buried in the floorboards of the living room, found when gio decided that the house needed renovation and taking matters into his own hands, she died via blunt force trauma i will not be going into detail here because i'm still thinking of doing something with this au she died in the early 2000’s -Sylvester Ashling is the second ghost to show himself though he didn't want to, his body was found in the bottom of the pond in the backyard of the house in the garden. His body while it was decomposing and falling apart was still intact, bloated from drowning. Again i wont go into detail but this wasn't an accident time of death is unknown -Trixie Roughhouse is the third person to show themselves to the Banzai Blasters she is found in the bushes in the backyard her face disfigured from some sort of explosion unlike the others it seems like it was purely an accident, like sylvie their time of death is unknown Mera Salamin is the collages part time librarian nicknamed “the library witch” she started seeing her ghost after obtaining a neck bow with a blue pendant from a pawnshop she got it cause it was pretty and didn't expect a himbo to come along with it -Indus Tarbella is a ghost who is attached to the pendant and bow Mera wear it used to be his own until he was decapitated wearing it through he was properly buried he has no troublesome memories about what happened even after seeing his body he’s just happy to be with Mera Percival King is a security guard at the college and one of the best at that, she wields a story she got from a pawn shop as its her preferred weapon she takes her job very seriously -Ramsey and Zora both died by the same sword while fighting neither remember who wielded the sword, even after death they hate each other and hate being bound together even more Everyone ends up meeting and finding out they all have ghost hijinks ensue. The way ghosts work in this world is a bit strange I'll admit but it's one of my favorites. The ghosts can interact with the human world(menma style) but

they can only talk to the others who can see them (the Banzai Blasters, mera and percy) and the ghosts can interact with each other ghosts in this au attach themselves to an item or property that has someway to do with their death, the kids in the property, Indus it's the bow, and the sword duo is well, the sword Percy carries. As alluded to from before Gio and the rest of the boys end up carrying a bit of the property with them in the form of friendship bracelets four for each of them which makes 28 different bracelets so the kids can decide who to follow around for the day.i talked about how percy and Mera’s items work enough but i would like to mention that Indus does most of the heavy lifting around the library but becaus enoone else can see indus they assume she’s magical, the glowing pendant doesn't help.

The last two au’s i want to talk about are both dream smp au’s

though i've never talked about them online until now, again thanks to @brocolibean for letting me brain vomit my way through these au’s and helping me out with things i love them please check him out I'll be honest i'm so scared of this fandom so i'm afraid to talk about my au’s please be nice to me Also this is all roleplay and fiction!<3 The first one i'll talking about is the dsmp ghost hunters au Sam runs a company where groups of people hunt ghosts for money! Those groups being Phil, Technoblade, Wilbur,Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo Dream, George, Sapnap, Quackity, Karl Bad, ant, Skeppy, and Puffy There’s most likely more but there the only people i can think of at this moment The only canonical ghost being Schlatt This au doesn't have a proper story perse it's more about gags and stuff about the different character fighting over ghosts for money but the story stuff i do have- Sbi family dynamic is real here you can rejoice, Phil adopts Tubbo after his dad (Schlatt) kicks the bucket and fucking dies , Tubbo befriend’s Ranboo some mysterious teen who just desperately needs a job so he- and the rest of the Minecraft family help him get one- though they find out Ranboo isnt as human as he was made out to be and he finds out he’s this worlds version of angels called ender’s and he’s there to protect Tubbo and Tommy which explains why the more violent ghosts start being less violent at the arrival of Ranboo joining their team. Bad isn't human either being a demon his entire group know’s plus quackity. Quackity found out but squirting him with holy water through a water gun but don't worry he promised not to tell anyone; -) Bad and Ranboo know about each other because they see each other as their true forms The minecraft fam found out about Schlatt being a ghost through Tommy- despite Tubbo telling him not to- telling them from calling up and paying for them to investigate their own house saying “technically i didn't tell them” they ended up not getting rid of Schlatt though I'm not going to talk about how the ghosts here work because it's not super important to the plot

The second au is another ghost au where the main characters are ghosts themselves,

like the others its mainly lighthearted and comedic with dark attributes The plot surrounds the sbi family moving into a new house and Tommy finding out it's being haunted by two ghost’s. Those ghosts being Tubbo and Ranboo This au isn't fully figured out but I know that he found out he was haunted by sending a selfie to someone(possibly Drista and Purpled? Since there are only other minors who were part of the dsmp lore? But ultimately idk) and them being like “yo i didn't know you had friends” and him being like “?????” Tubbo died from a boiler exploding and Ranboo died from drowning (which are apparently my two favorite deaths) this also doesn't have an official story? It was just an excuse to make ghost designs with a bit of a story without the commitment As said before it's a sbi au but also a Dadschlatt au cuz I like Dadschlatt au’s. The main story bits i have are background stuff for Tubbo and Ranboo which ill elaborate now The house was originally meant to be just a summer home because it had a large lake in the backyard Ranboo’s family would go there often but that doesn't mean his family liked him very much because of his heterochromia, Vitiligo, and his height his family thought he was strayed from god and drowned him Tubbo died during sleep while Schlatt wasn't home either out drinking or just at work he came home to the house being partially blown up and his son nowhere to be seen he calls Puffy out of fear and she calls the cops. He moves away and most likely starts drinking a bit more. The house gets rebuilt and now the sbi live there hijinks ensue! The ghosts in this au work in a simpler manor only Tommy can see them unless a photo is taken but even then they are blurred, they can float and go through walls and their ability to touch things is limited Ranboo’s memory is worse then Tubbo’s but Tubbo’s isn’t much better.

below the cut will be designs and stuff be safe pal's- there will be minor/cartoony blood-

rip me exposing my old art on this account also i'm ripping these from my fucking amino account that i don't use but still have the password too

gonna do the original what a pity drawins first them ill show a more recent rendition because i hate the old drawings

these are the old drawins i hate them

then,,, i just drew them,,,,, fuck these guys/j

thses are the old sprite edits of these four! trixies design is the only one that really changed

the ded;-; i couldnt fit him on the page

there he is! ft indus and very much alive mera(who i cant figure out how to FUCKING DRAW-)

gay's get wilbur'd/j

they lookin for ghosts

the whole fmaily is here but its quality is shit

these bitches dead! good for them,,, good for them,,,,,,/j/rp

40 notes · View notes

ts-storytime · 3 years

Text

Beta List 2021

A list of betas for the 2020 TS-Storytime Big Bang! This will detail the beta’s URL, beta type(s), preferred genres, genres that make them uncomfortable, and any other additional information.

The beta types are:

Developmental beta: I’d like to help create the plot and help the writer shape the story.

Basic beta: editing for spelling/grammatical errors, or things like consistency in the story.

Cheerleading beta: Cheering for the writer to keep going!

This list has been posted in order of their sign-up. If a beta chooses to no longer be available, DM me, and this list will be updated for their url to be striked through like this. Updated as of 5/1/21.

@cardigancladpatton

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference

Genres they want to avoid: No preference

Additional info: N/A

@houser-of-stories

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Humour, Ghosts or Heists or Historical Settings, Mythology AUs, Messing with Time is always something I’m interested in

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW, anything with an unhappy ending (ambiguous/open ended is fine), incredibly graphic injuries

Additional info: I’ve got a little bit of experience under my belt, and I’m open to pretty much anything!

@d4rk3stn1ght

Beta types: Developmental and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No

Genres they want to avoid: No

Additional info: I tend to add a lot of angst/hurt comfort but I also like to ping pong ideas. Almost like a verbal rp and it gets both ideas generated in the person's mind

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly

Beta types: Basic

Preferred genres: I’m comfortable with anything and don’t have any major triggers so I can handle the heavy stuff well. I love angst but am fine w anything!

Genres they want to avoid: I’m not huge on medieval fantasy but am willing to do it!

Additional info: N/A

@thewordyhibiscus

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: I'm fine with any genre!

Genres they want to avoid: There are no genres I'd be uncomfortable working with.

Additional info: There is nothing else I'd like to add.

@davidthetraveler

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: I'm good with most things.

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW content, "No happy ending" stories, certain ships, certain types of triggering or squicky content. If you're not sure if your story's content is something I'd be uncomfortable with, feel free to discuss it with me.

Additional info: As a developmental Beta, I would be available to help you sort out what needs to happen in your story. I can help find ways to get from one point to another. I can help to set the tone and feel for the story. I can also be there to ask questions to challenge you to figure things out for yourself. And I can even review stories to see if they make internal logical sense. But I will always defer to you, the author, on what will actually be put into your story. As an editing Beta, my philosophy is that it is not my job to tell you what your voice needs to be, but rather to help your voice be clear and understandable. I will correct spelling and grammar, as well as punctuation. And I will occasionally suggest a different word or phrasing to better express what you're trying to say. But you will always have the final say, and I will do my best never to overwrite your voice.

@pretty-hog-wild

Beta types: Basic

Preferred genres: Fantasy, slice of life, college au, disney (if that is a genre)

Genres they want to avoid: Horror

Additional info: N/A

@purplepatton

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference!

Genres they want to avoid: Smut

Additional info: I've beta'd before, both for fandom and academic work, so I have some experience! My time zone is EST, and I use discord frequently so you can reach me easily on there! I'm excited to see the amazing stories that come out of this years bang :)

@wisherbysharlight

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Romance

Genres they want to avoid: Angst

Additional info: N/A

@sides-on-a-string

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: I like fantasy and sci-fi!

Genres they want to avoid: I'm not fond of horror.

Additional info: N/A

@chaoticcartoonlokibiscuit

Beta types: Basic

Preferred genres: Fantasy or Adventure are my favorites!

Genres they want to avoid: I'm not really comfortable with very graphic stories that include sexual or violent content. I'm fine with fights and violence, as long as it isn't too explicit or dark. Horror also isn't my favorite, but I don't mind if the story's a little scary. Again, just not too explicit.

Additional info: I signed up as a beta reader to check for spelling/ grammatical and continuity errors but if the writer I'm helping wants any plot-related advice, I'd be happy to share my ideas about that as well!

@kieraelieson

Beta types: Basic and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Fantasy, sci-fi, canon-ish

Genres they want to avoid: Romance

Additional info: I really prefer to work with Gen stories, or stories with a smaller emphasis on ships.

@meglooy

Beta types: Basic and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Sci-fi, fantasy, hurt/comfort, G/t

Genres they want to avoid: Nsfw, Major character death, Unsympathetic sides (morally grey ok)

Additional info: Please don't be afraid to correct me if I'm doing something wrong, I'm kinda new at this, and I want to get better

@pattonkittysquad2

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference

Genres they want to avoid: Extreme horror/cosmic horror

Additional info: I can't do anything with unsympathetic characters

@youronelesbianfriend

Beta types: Basic and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Most

Genres they want to avoid: Anything with unsympathetic patton

Additional info: N/A

@starshineandbooks

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW Content

Additional info: Nope I'm pretty easy going

@confinesofpersonalknowledge

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: fiction, high-fantasy, children aus

Genres they want to avoid: ones with too much character suffering

Additional info: not really!

@do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them

Beta types: Developmental and basic

Preferred genres: AUs with fun worldbuilding potential; hurt/comfort (I am pretty good at it); fantasy

Genres they want to avoid: Stories with: major focus on heavy real-world issues; canon characters written as abusive or irredeemably awful; hopeless endings

Additional info: I'm an adult, and would be comfortable working with NSFW content as long as the writer is also an adult.

@poppytres

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Nope, any is fine!

Genres they want to avoid: Anything dealing with pregnancy, but given it's Sanders sides, I doubt that will be an issue.

Additional info: You guys are going to do so good!

@legendsgates

Beta types: Developmental and basic

Preferred genres: Angst/whump with a happy ending, canonical aus, alien aus, soulmate aus, superpower aus, time travel (in canonical aus), pre-accepting anxiety aus

Genres they want to avoid: Sad or ambiguous endings, major character death, unsympathetic sides

Additional info: (Tumblr isn’t letting me receive messages right now, so if you want to contact me I’m on discord as ShadowState#2367) I’m a bit more experienced with line editing than developmental, but I’ll do my best to help with both!)

@anxious-logic

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW, any unsympathetic sides, horror, unhappy endings

Additional info: N/A

@harper-is-a-little-sh1t

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Romance, fluff, hurt/comfort

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW, unhappy endings, gore, unsympathetic sides, anything with more than a passing mention of over/under-eating

Additional info: I'm not really a fan of Remrom or Dukeceit and would prefer not to work with writing involving either of those. I have no problem with people shipping them but I'm just personally not comfortable.

@psychedelicships

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: i love fantasy AUs but i'll be willing to work with any!

Genres they want to avoid: I'm a minor, so no NSFW.

Additional info: English IS my first language, and I'll be willing to beta multiple works! I'm fine with any ship except r/m/rm

@let-the-words-be-free

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: I'm best with fantasy but I work well with any genre.

Genres they want to avoid: N/A

Additional info: I'm in school for editing and creative writing plus I love to cheer people on! I'm ready and willing to help!

@yellowroseartist

Beta types: Cheerleading

Preferred genres: Cannonverse, Urban/Modern, Slice of Life, maybe even Fantasy

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW, Unsympathetic Sides, Horror or graphic violence, Unhappy ending (ambiguous/open ended is fine), Superhero Stories, Soulmate AUs

Additional info: I've never beta before, but I have done some writing and such for fun so I may be able to help w/ more developmental stuff if needed!

@earmuffstar

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Hm, I prefer canonverse, but I'll work with anything

Genres they want to avoid: Nothing explicit please?

Additional info: I'll probably be better at spelling/grammar/consistency/flow editing than plot editing, but I offer my services for it regardless

@5-falsehoods-phonated

Beta types: Basic

Preferred genres: Nope! I'm good wherever I'm needed.

Genres they want to avoid: No, I'm okay reading anything.

Additional info: Not that I can think of.

@infawrit10

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Nope! I��m partial to certain ships like Prinxiety and Moceit, but I’m happy and willing to work with anything, pretty much!

Genres they want to avoid: Anything with heavy angst, rape/non-con elements, NSFW/NSFS, and romantic Moxiety (platonic or familial is fine, though!)

Additional info: The best way to reach me would be through tumblr DMs. I’m so excited to work with you!

@averykedavra

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: fantasy, human au, and/or superheroes!

Genres they want to avoid: hurt no comfort, major character death, or other heavily angsty subject matter

Additional info: N/A

@mariniacipher

Beta types: Developmental and basic

Preferred genres: Any type of fantasy would be welcome, but I’m fine with most genres.

Genres they want to avoid: Tragedies and hanahaki are both a no for me.

Additional info: I have a bunch of experience under my belt and while i am thorough, this is always in service of the story’s improvement. I’d adore to work with one of the many lovely works which will be part of this challenge, and am very much looking forward to that 😊.

@violetgauze

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: angst/found family/romance

Genres they want to avoid: smut, action, anything sexual, abuse/assault, suicide

Additional info: no experience in beta-ing but i've written fiction before (not for sanders sides)

@fruit-snacc-ace

Beta types: Developmental and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Not particularly! I'm pretty much open to everything!

Genres they want to avoid: I'm a minor, so I can't work with nsfw fics, but other than that I'm okay with pretty much everything!

Additional info: I can't wait to work with other authors! I'm so excited to help them out!

#beta list 2021 #betas #beta list #my post #text

12 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Welcome, my friends

The whole premise here is that Raph is Willy Wonka and they go to kill some kids and eat some candy.

On AO3.

Ships: none

warnings: though either vague or mentioned there is child death in here. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are we going?” Raphaella asked.

“Marius got to pick and he wanted to go to earth, to understand Tim better or something.” Nastya answered, “Though I think Brain is going to an alternate timeline than Tim's, just to be safe. We don’t want to ruin the timeline accidentally.”

“Anything interesting you know off in this timeline?” Raph was ever so curious.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, I think we’re coming up on it now.” Nastya shrugged.

Raphaella hurried to the window to press up against it as they landed, it was an industrial planet and she couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity.

Before she could pin it down Ivy called them all together to go over the planet, so that they would know what to expect. She began: “So, this planet is earth, but not Tim's earth exactly, but it is broadly similar if industrialization had proceeded like on the other earth we visit from time to time to do gigs.”

“Is there anything fun to do?” Jonny asked.

“Fun or violent?” Ivy replied.

Jonny shrugged: “I don’t care, it’s broadly the same.”

“Well, it’s most well known for it’s candy factory, run by someone named Willy Wonka” Ivy said, “That could be fun.”

Raph perked up and said: “Oh, we’re here! I have a great fun plan. We will need some fliers printed and get a few things set up, but it has so much potential. You all can be oompa loompas and-”

She got interrupted by Ashes, who said: “What the fuck are you on about, Raph?”

“I’m Willy Wonka.” she told them in lieu of an explanation.

“You’re who?” multiple people asked at the same time.

“Willy Wonka.” she repeated as if that would clear anything up, then she clarified further, “It sounded better than my actual name for marketing and I started it so that I could do both science and fund said science until I could make myself immortal and fly away.”

“You,” Tim said, “ran a candy, let me repeat, candy factory?”

“Yes, now if I’m correct we’re just after I left, but I never really told anyone or left it all in good hands, so we can do this now and I really do have this marvelous plan that we can-”

She got cut off yet again, this time by Jonny: “That sounds boring.”

“You’ll get to kill some kids.” Raph said as a peace offering

“Sold. Let’s go help Raph murder some kids.” Jonny started to get up, clearly done with the whole brief.

“Wait, no, killing children would be wrong.” Brian stopped him.

“We’ll only kill bad children.” Raph said, “Don’t worry about it, Brian.”

“Bad children?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, you know, those kids who will later become bad people and hurt others. We can flip your switch if you’d like?” Raph answered.

“Maybe.” Brian whispered.

“Alright, so that’s settled, let’s get to the killing of kids.” Jonny said, already in a much better mood than at the start.

They gathered their stuff and landed, for once not in the middle of no where to be inconspicuous, but right in the middle of a big industrial complex. Raph gave them a brief rundown of her operations here, it was mostly run by robots, she called oompa loompas.

There she explained her plan with golden tickets and finding the right person to leave it for. Jonny groaned: “But this is all so boring, Raph. When will it get fun?”

“Right now.” Raphaella said as she handed him a piece of gum, “Here.”

Jonny grumbled some more and put the piece of candy in his mouth and started to chew. Everyone except him seemed to notice the gleam in Raphaellas eyes as she watched him chew, so they looked closely as Jonny started to swell and swell and turn blue.

At some point he noticed too, but it was too late by then and he was already rolling, as he rolled away Raph called after him: “And that’s how it will be fun!”

After that they all were on board. Brian, TS and Ivy helped Raphaella plan, while Nastya explored the machinery around her and the others fucked around with the candy.

Then the day came, when the gates would open and the few lucky kids would enter the magical factory of Willy Wonka. Everyone was in their places, some more giddily than others, awaiting their part.

It took a while, but soon enough Raph entered the room with the chocolate river, followed by a group of people. One of the boys rushed to the riverside and started to drink out of the river. Raph was giving him the stink eye over it and Jonny thought that this was his cue.

He hadn’t been that satisfied to hear that most of the child murder was going to take place at the hands of the invention instead of his own, but no one had told him he couldn't help.

So, he slid into the river as well as swam over to the boy and subtly pulled him into the river, dragging him over to the pipe and sticking him in it, before climbing out behind a bush. He met Raphaellas eyes and winked as she grinned back.

Then she got distracted by a lady, presumably the boys mother. Raph blew on her flute and all came out in their uniforms among the oompa loompa robots, looking like idiots, as they sang a disapproving song about the kid in question, before the group moved on.

They were later called again, this time to roll away a girl who turned into a blueberry. Raph as Willy told her father they were going to squeeze her to save her, but Jonny and Tim had already decided to pop her like a blueberry balloon.

The other girl got taken by a shoot, but beside Raph they hadn’t been there on the floor working, instead they were waiting on her down below.

After that they didn’t see Raph until she came by to tell them what had happened before boarding Aurora.

When she was done, Jonny huffed and crossed his arms as he said: “It almost feels like we did something good today and I don’t like it.”

“We murdered three children.” Brian replied, voice a bit shrill.

“Yeah, yeah, but it had a happy ending, very boring honestly. I wanna pick the next planet.” Jonny told him, the comment got him some pushes and shoves as the others ribbed him slightly as they left the planet to seek another story.

#RR writing #The Mechanisms #the mechs #raphaella la cognizi #Jonny d'Ville #drumbot brian #Nastya Rasputina #Ivy Alexandria #Raphaella is Willy Wonka #tw: child death #tw: child murder

10 notes · View notes

goldenmessenger · 4 years

Text

TS Actor AU: Reach Out Your Hand Pt 1

Summary: Before recovery can come, you have to admit you have a problem first. In 2019, Roman’s been clean for about 6 years. In 2011, however? Clean is a long way away. He’s alone. Isolated. No-one to turn to. Except he might have one person. But Roman’s ignored him for the last 4 years. But then the voicemail comes.

Read on Ao3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So, I’m currently working on a multi-chapter fic set after the last two fics. But that’s probably going to take me a while. So in the meantime, have this fic that’s set 8 years before the others. This is some backstory on Roman, Remus, and Dillon, and how Roman got on the first steps to recovery. Also, I meant for this to be a one-shot, but it’s going to be a two-parter. It’s too long to post all at once. I apologize in advance for this, it’s really intense and a lot of whump and angst. I promise part 2 will make up for everything, and that’ll be up tomorrow.

As usual, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! And once again, I apologize.

Content Warnings: Drunken texts, drug abuse, drug overdose, mild violence (vague mention), self-deprecating thoughts and language, whump, angst

****************************

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Sent at 11:24pm

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

happhy B-day roe

its me Rekus

Remus

i gootta new phonee

im sorry

iwas the worts

woest

worsr

Cant typw

To drukn

Miss u tho

First b-day wit out u

Do u mis me to?

See u on th news

Got that moie

Movie deal u wanted

Hop ur doin wel

That ur happy

M not

Mis u

Love u

****************************

Friday, March 20, 2009

Sent at 2:00 pm

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Hey Ro, happy birthday,

it’s me again.

I wanna apologize for the mess that I sent last year. Thought you’d like to know I’m in a much better place now.

I’m in college in San Francisco, probably gonna live there after.

Gotta boyfriend, just like you always said you would if we didn’t have to deal with everyone’s expectations.

Went to therapy, boyfriend’s idea

Though he was just a best friend then

It’s been really helpful.

I was so awful to you.

I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again

You don’t have to forgive me, I just want a chance to talk

If you want to meet up

Just let me know

****************************

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Sent at 10:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Hey Ro

Happy birthday again.

At this point, I know you probably won’t reply

This probably isn’t even your number anymore.

I don’t know why I keep texting you though

Closure, perhaps?

An inability to let go?

Whatever it is, it’s kinda sad

I can’t stop though

If by any chance you are reading this, please respond

I don’t care if it’s to say you hate me, or never want to talk to me again, please

I need you

I need my brother

****************************

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Sent at 10:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Happy birthday Ro!

This will probably be the last time I text you.

My boyfriend, Dillon, pointed out that if you were going to reply, you would’ve already

I need to move on

I need to heal

I still love you though

You’ll always be my brother

****************************

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Sent at 11:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Ro, what the hell?

I know I said that I wouldn’t text again

But I just saw the news

You punched someone?

What on earth

I’d honestly be kinda proud of you if I wasn’t worried

Are you doing ok?

That’s not like you.

I was always the violent one.

I know what I said before, but if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here.

I won’t be waiting for you anymore, but I’ll still be here for you, if you need me.

All you need to do is reach out.

****************************

Sunday, August 15, 2011

Missed Call at 1:00 am

Voicemail from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

“Ro—Roman! Please, please tell me you’re there, that you’re alright—

I just heard, apparently you’ve been missing for two weeks? Two whole weeks, and I didn’t know—

Please call me back, or text if that works better! Please, no one knows where you are, if you’re ok, nothing!

I — I can’t lose you Roman.

I mean, maybe I did already, maybe I did a long time ago—

But that was different. At least you were alive. You were happy. At least, I thought you were happy. I’m not so sure about that anymore.

But if by some miracle, some crazy insane miracle you still have this number, if you’re ok, please please let me know.

I love you so much Ro.

I don’t think I ever said it enough, but I do. So, so much.

I hope wherever you are, you’re ok.”

****************************

The dark hotel room was illuminated only by the screen of his phone. He stared at it with glassy eyes, unseeing, as the message finished playing. Roman was leaning against the bed, sitting on the floor. His phone was gleaming on the ground next to him.

Roman had read Remus’s texts as they came, of course, but he hadn’t thought they were sincere. That they were real. Nothing else in his life was, not even his own parents. So why should his own twin be an exception? But he didn’t delete the texts or block the number. He let the messages keep coming. And he didn’t know why.

Maybe because part of him had wanted to hope. Why else would he be where he was now? Why else would he have used the most of the little money he had left to get himself here? Here in a dingy little motel on the edge of San Francisco. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, not that anyone cared. Maybe Remy might’ve. Remy, who Roman realized now might’ve been his only real friend. At least, he could’ve been, if Roman hadn’t pushed him away when Remy had attempted to convince Roman he had a problem. Pushed him away just like Roman had done to everything else good in his life.

That’s why he hadn’t contacted Remus yet. Why he’d sat here in this room with it’s flea-ridden bed and peeling wallpaper for almost two weeks now, only leaving to buy food from the nearby convenience store. Remus’s texts had seemed like he was doing well. Roman had looked at his Facebook too. Remus was in college, was living with his boyfriend, a job working as a tech at a local theater. He seemed happy. Roman couldn’t bring himself to ruin that like he ruined everything else.

But that voicemail—he hadn’t ever heard Remus sound so frightened before. So worried. And about Roman, of all people. Why? Why on earth? Sure, they’d been close as kids, but they hadn’t even been in the same room for years. And Roman had ignored all of Remus’s attempts to make contact since. He couldn’t understand it. It made his head hurt. He was feeling bitterly jittery, and not very glittery.

That was a weird sentence. When did his thoughts stop making sense? He needed his pills, needed them. He couldn’t deal with all of these thoughts and emotions. He needed them to go away. He needed them to stop. He fumbled on all fours for the bottle, and finally found it, open and empty. That wasn’t right, it’d been full only...only...he couldn’t remember. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he pitched forward, face planting into the ground.

Something wasn’t right. Why was his brain so fuzzy. Everything hurt so much, he couldn’t think. He needed help. He needed Remus. He somehow managed to find his phone, and hit the contact simply labeled “R.”

The phone rang. And rang. Finally, it was picked up. And a familiar voice spoke.

****************************

Remus ran his hand through his sleeping boyfriend’s hair. It was a calming motion that somewhat helped to calm his racing mind. But not by much. Dillon had attempted to convince Remus to rest, but Remus couldn’t sleep. Not when Roman was missing. He’d gotten the news around midnight, from a former friend of Roman’s, Remy.

Remy had been the one to tell Remus that Roman had been struggling with a drug addiction, though Remy didn’t know how long. He’d tried to get Roman some help as soon as he found out, but the other man had rejected it and broke off their friendship. Remy had gone to Roman’s apartment that morning to attempt to repair their relationship, with the hope that he could eventually convince Roman to get some help. But he was nowhere to be found. The door was unlocked, and there was two weeks worth of mail on the floor. He’d found Remus’s number on accident, on a post-it on Roman’s fridge, labeled “Bro.” That’s when he’d called Remus and, upon finding out he was Roman’s brother, told him everything.

Remus didn’t quite understand why Roman had his number saved like that, but the more pressing concern was finding Roman. Remus attempted to call Roman several times, each one going straight to voicemail.

He didn’t blame Dillon for falling asleep though. Remus would if he could. He couldn’t though. The hand that wasn’t running through Dillon’s hair had a death grip on his phone. He couldn’t stop staring at it, praying to anyone who would listen that it would ring.

He didn’t know what he expected though. Roman had never responded to him in the past, so why would now be any diff—

“I’m a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wooorld

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic...”

Remus startled as his phone’s ringtone filled the room. Next to him, Dillon shifted and blinked tiredly at him.

“Why on earth do you still have that obnoxious song as your ringtone?” Dillon questioned, a little grumpy at being woken so unceremoniously.

“You can brush my hair, undress me everywheere

Imagination, life is your creation...”

Remus could barely hear him. He could barely hear his own ringtone. All he could do was stare at the name that lit up the screen.

Lil bRO(man)

“Come on, Barbie, let's go party!”

Dillon looked up at Remus, the sleep slowly fading from his gaze as his brain slowly began to catch up.

“Re, what’s wrong?”

“I’m a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wooorld

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic...”

The chorus of the song began to repeat, and Remus knew he was running out of time. This was something he’d wanted for years, and now, it was happening right in front of him. But he was frozen. For some reason, he couldn’t answer the phone.

“You can brush my hair, undress me everywheere…”

When Remus didn’t respond, Dillon sat up, and saw the phone lying limp in his boyfriend’s grasp.

“Imagination, life is you—”

Quick as a lightning bolt, Dillon grabbed the phone and hit ANSWER before it could go to voicemail. Almost as quick, he hit the speaker button.

There was a long moment of silence. Too long. Finally, Remus’s voice returned.

“Ro, is that you?” He asked, hopefully. “Are you ok, are you hurt, where—”

“Re. I— I didn’t acshully think you’d anshwer.”

Roman’s familiar voice leaked through the speakers like water through a broken dam. Despite Remus’s relief, however, he immediately recognized something was wrong. One look at Dillon’s face told Remus that he’d heard it too. The way Roman’s words slurred themselves together. Remus took a deep breath. He knew how to handle this. He just needed to stay calm.

“Of course I would.” Remus said sincerely. “Ro, why don’t you tell me where you are? Maybe I can come to you and we can have this conversation in person?”

However, Roman didn’t seem to hear Remus’s question.

“I meshed up Re, meshed up big time, I ran ‘way from evything ‘cause I shcrewed up, an’ now I’m losht an’ allone an’ I jus’ wanted to hear your voishe one lasht time…”

Remus felt his heart seize in panic at those words. He grabbed the phone out of Dillon’s hands as the man looked on worriedly. Remus clutched that phone like it was his lifeline. No, Roman’s lifeline.

“Roman, wait, what do you mean, one last time? Where are you, what’s going on?”

“Ate too many of th’ pret-ty white circles, and now I can’ shtand up right and m’ brain won’ work.”

Roman’s voice grew thick, and it began to sound like he was crying.

“M sorry Re, ‘m an awful brother. I can’ do anything righ’ an’ I was too much of a cow-ward to tell you I was here.”

Remus’s eyes widened in shock as his brain processed the information. White circles, didn’t a lot of pills take that form? Including addictive ones. And Roman was here? San Francisco?

He looked over to Dillon to find that his boyfriend had his own phone out, and was callling someone. Dillon caught his gaze, and mouthed 911. Keep him talking. Remus took a deep breath. He needed to keep it together. For Roman’s sake.

“Roman, you’re going to be fine, just tell me where you are, and I’ll be right there. You said that you’re here? Where is here?”

“Th’ golden ci-ty, home of Saint Franny. Wan-ed to talk to you, couldn’ get up th’ nerve. ‘M in this shtupid lil hot-tel, it schucks. Bayshide Mot-tel, I think. Rom 320. Picked it cause it wash our birth-dayte.”

Remus quickly glanced over to Dillon urgently, and his boyfriend began relaying Roman’s location to the paramedics.

“Ro, we’ll be right there, just hold on, ok? We’re on our way.”

No response.

“Roman, Roman!”

Silence echoed from the other end of the line.

“No, nononononono no! Roman, please!”

In a dark dingy motel room several miles away, the only sound was a brother’s anguished cries, and the only light was that of a cracked phone screen next to a limp hand.

****************************

AN: Again, I’m really sorry about this cliffhanger, and I will fix it tomorrow.

****************************

TAGLIST:

@ironwoman359

@galacticguppy

@trashpanda-remus

@atticusfinchthelegend

@ravenclawunicorn1

@voidvirgil

@dogwithpants

@dreaming-about-kittens

#ts actor au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #my writing #my au #remus sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #remy sanders #sympathetic deceit sanders #sympathetic remus sanders

63 notes · View notes

brightlotusmoon · 4 years

Text

I just realized that I never explored that whole idea of 2012 Mikey having an actual Dimension X brain, despite creating an entire damn plot bunny in Part Five of Flow And Existence. Which means I finally have a plot for the second part of Children Of The Moon. Ugh. Writer's block.

---

Over the last week, Mikey has been having violent nightmares and waking flashbacks to any one of his past attacks. Don and April say it's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Splinter agrees, likening them to his own flashbacks of the fire, Tang Shen's death, Miwa's disappearance.

He sits with Mikey by the dojo tree and they meditate for hours.

Sometimes, Leo can hear Mikey crying in that loose, wild, free way of a small child.

Sometimes Mikey falls asleep right after. Splinter has brought in a slender mattress and buckwheat pillow for him, and he will sleep like the dead. Several times, Leo will sit with him, meditating just to watch his brother's colors. Mikey will awaken confused, breathing heavily. Sometimes he will have a seizure, and Leo will hold him, and after a while Leo begins to see that same warm gold-orange light around Mikey's hands and in the center of his forehead. If Mikey grabs him during the seizure, Leo will feel a bizarre sense of deep peace and healing.

Leo goes to Donnie the day after and mentions this. Donnie nods, and thinks for a long, long time.

"I just realized something," he says. "Remember how Mikey alone understood Kraang tech, how in Dimension X he practically knew the whole place like he was born there?"

Leo nods, folding his arms.

"April and I talked about this a while back. What if…what if Mikey is a Dimension X being?"

Leo's jaw drops. "Wh-what does that mean?"

"I mean his mentality," Don says. "The way his brain works. We always figured it's ADHD, and it still is, but…but what if the Utrom slash Kraang mutagen did something to Mikey, something unique as April? I mean, he's already far more flexible than us. And he reacts to everything in his own unique way. It's like part of him constantly tries to defy the laws of physics. Think about it. He's constantly making and reacting to sound. His acrobatic movements are unique. He senses direct danger and subtle danger in unique ways, like a completely extra sense that is almost alien. He somehow understands chemistry as well as I do, in his own way. He understands his environment, his sense of self, and his sense of other people in ways that are almost telepathic! And from what I've heard, he seems to be slightly immune to alien tech that acts as mind control. Think about the wasp bites; it took him longer to be affected, enough to inject himself and save us. Plus, remember when he was captured by the Triceratons? That psionic extractor made him high as shit."

There was a long, long pause. Don's eyes were very wide, his breathing rapid.

"So…" Leo bites his lip. "Mikey's mentality could be similar to a creature from Dimension X, and that could be where these new mental abilities are coming from."

"Yes. I asked April her thoughts on it. She froze up and sort of looked cagey, but then she agreed. Pretty vehemently." Donnie shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile on his face, and turns to his computer.

Leo narrows his eyes. April is hiding something.

---

#tmnt #Tmnt 2012 #Tmnt Mikey #Tmnt Michelangelo #Mikey has a Dimension X Psionic brain #Mikey the Lifegiver

4 notes · View notes

demented-dukey · 5 years

Text

NOTP RemRom-averse Awareness Post

Welcome. This is the list of users who do not like Remrom and cannot scroll past and ignore it, compiled so that shippers know who to unfollow/avoid/block/etc. Names have been added from public posts I’ve come across, or from users sending me asks or PMs.

To be on this post, you are directly asking Remrom shippers to do something, whether it be to block/unfollow you, to not interact with you, or to be extra careful around your trigger. You have crossed into our lane, and I am obligated to respond to your request. Users who are overly hostile, aggressive, or unrepentantly post death threats or suicide baiting towards Remrom shippers will also be added and tagged with applicable warnings.

To be clear: NOTPs - people who are non-aggressive but still opposed enough to RemRom to be unable to ignore it and scroll past Antis - people aggressively stirring up discourse in the fandom and violently and/or vocally opposing RemRom

(If you wish to be removed from one of these lists for any reason, contact me via an Ask or PM and we will discuss the matter. I have answered asks about this process, but I will consider each case individually and I am willing to work towards an agreement.)

I promise that I will do my best to respect DNIs and not @ tag anyone on this list as long as they stay in their own lane - however, if a user interacts with me or makes posts/comments about Remrom, I will probably respond (not always, but probably).

If anyone sees someone not on the list already talk about being anti-ship, request that shippers DNI, or publicly say that this topic is a trigger for them, I encourage you to let me know with a link to their post, and I will add them to the NOTP list so that their wishes can be respected.

Shippers: DO NOT send these people hatemail, period, no matter how hostile they are. Not everybody likes every pairing, and that’s okay. (And hey! Now that this list exists, maybe anti-shippers will stop making their own hate-posts about Remrom shippers and leave us alone!)

(Edited to Add: Dear NOTPs and Antis, please understand that you are fully capable of filtering the #remrom and #romrem tags, and that taking the next step to “unfollow/blocking” and asking people to “DNI” is an extreme reaction not to be taken lightly. Please take a moment to read this post before being asked to be added to this list.)

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Tag List Legend:

[DNI] = This user has requested that shippers Do Not Interact with them.

[*unfollow*] = This user has requested that anyone who ships Rem/Rom should “get off their blog”, unfollow and/or block them, or they’ve said they will block anyone who is a pro-shipper.

[*trigger*] = This user has said that this is a trigger. Please do not tag or mention incest or remrom to them, either anti or pro.

[*sensitive*] = This user is sensitive to this topic. Please do not tag or mention incest or remrom to them, either anti or pro.

[~Hostile~] = This user is actively stirring up trouble and/or spreading hostile messages in the fandom, and/or purposefully provoking Remrom shippers.

[~Hurtful~] = This user had been informed that their hostile anti-shipping comments are hurting people, and they are unwilling to listen. They know they are hurting people and are willfully and intentionally continuing to spread hate in the fandom. Pro-shippers, please completely avoid for your mental health.

[~Violent~] = This user, whether “as a joke haha” or “maliciously”, chose to punctuate their opinion with a threat of violence towards pro-shippers.

💚 💚 💚 💚 💚

Trigger/Sensitivity List:

(Note: all post links have been moved to Gdoc)

(Please do not mention incest or Remrom to these users, either anti or pro. They are deeply uncomfortable with the topic and should be left completely out of the conversation.)

(ETA: This is by no means an exhaustive list of everyone who is triggered/sensitive to Remrom, only the ones I’ve come across or have spoken to via ask or PM about being on this list because they need Shippers to be extra careful around them. Some people prefer not to be on this list and I respect their wishes.)

@actslikeacat [Public Request, comment] [*sensitive*]

@allycat31415 [PM] [*sensitive*] [*trigger*]

@anxxiousmess [Ask] [DNI] [*sensitive*]

@ask-creativitwins [Public Request] [DNI] [*trigger*]

@bumble-bitch-sanders [PM] [*trigger*]

@chicabear15 [PM] [*sensitive*]

@craftystar22 [Public Request] [DNI] [*trigger*]

@fanartfunart [Public Request] [*trigger*]

@g-dino777 [Anti Post, PM] [DNI] [*trigger*]

@hope-thy-nope [Anti Reblog comment, PM] [*sensitive*]

@i-am-fangirling-14 [Public Request, PM] [*sensitive*]

@isoctopus [Ask] [DNI] [*sensitive*]

@just-breathe-violet [PM] [*trigger*]

@littlesquishyprincey [PM] [*trigger*]

@littlevirgilspace [Ask] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*sensitive*]

@logans-doodles [Ask] [DNI] [*trigger*]

@lotus-and-sides [PM] [DNI] [*sensitive*]

@lotus-evergreen [Post] [DNI] [*sensitive*]

@lrversefics [Ask] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*sensitive*]

@magicallygrimmwiccan [PM] [DNI] [*trigger*]

@not-safeforsanders [PM] [*sensitive*]

@pattonsfam-ily [Ask] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*sensitive*]

@sanderssidesfanfiction [Public Request, PM] [*trigger*]

@sidesandshortssmut [Anti Post, Ask] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*sensitive*]

@sleepsbabyboy [Ask] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*sensitive*]

@starbucks-remy [Ask] [*sensitive*]

@the-prince-and-the-emo [Anti Post] [*unfollow*] [*sensitive*]

@ts-virgil-angst [Reblog] [*sensitive*]

@yo-seff [PM] [*sensitive*]

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Anti List:

(Note: all post links have been moved to Gdoc)

(These users have earned the label “Anti”, usually by starting posts that contain aggressive, exclusive, and/or degrading wording, stirring up drama and discourse, or otherwise behaving in a hostile/hurtful way. Pro-shippers, please avoid them at all costs.)

@3robots - [Raider] [~Hostile/Hurtful/Violent~]

@afroclementine - [Raider] [~Hostile/Hurtful~]

@ahcwolves [Anti Post] [*sensitive*] [~Hostile~]

@bing-fucker (prev. @smutty-sanders-sides-stories) [Anti post] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*trigger*] [~Hostile~]

@blogging-time [Anti Post] [PM] [DNI]

@despacitosanders [Anti Post] [DNI]

@dethwilldie [Anti Post]

@emovirgil-sanders [Anti Post]

@ephemeral-afterlight [Ask] [Anti Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*trigger*] [~Hostile/Hurtful~]

@falsehoodx [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@forcastings - [Raider] [~Hostile/Hurtful~]

@girdance - [Raider] [~Hostile/Hurtful~]

@heavensite - [Raider] [~Hostile/Hurtful/Violent~]

@iamyourfandomqueen [Anti Post] [DNI]

@ilovemygaydad [Blog description] [Anti Reblog comment] [*unfollow*]

@innocentblueberry [Anti Post] [Anti Comments] [~Hostile~]

@itsbleuybleu [Anti posts] [~Death threats/Suicide-baiter~]

@lovelylogans [Anti Comment] [~Hostile/Hurtful/Violent~]

@lovinglogan [Anti Posts and comments]

@nachosforfree [Ask] [Anti reblog] [DNI] [~Hostile/Hurtful/Violent~]

@nonbinarylogan [Anti Post] [DNI]

@notafeeling [Anti Post] [*unfollow*] [~Hostile/Violent~]

@my-analogical-romance [Public Request] [DNI] [*trigger*] [~Hostile/Hurtful~]

@passem (prev. @thedinodad) [Anti Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [~Hostile~]

@plyyeemoloser [Anti Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@remrom-fucking-sucks-you-sickos

@remuscore [Anti post] [DNI] [~Hostile/Violent~]

@romananalogicality [Anti Reblog comment] [~Hostile~] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*sensitive*]

@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes [Post] [Anti Reblog comments] [*unfollow*]

@scarletteking [Anti posts] [~Hostile~]

@storytellerofuntoldlegends [Public Request] [*unfollow*] [~Hostile~] [~Hurtful~]

@tempest-tongue [Public Request] [DNI] [~Hostile/Hurtful~]

@the-no-name-system [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI] [~Hostile~]

@the-starlit-blade [Anti Post] [DNI]

@therubyjailcell [Anti Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*trigger*]

@thesinningcell [Anti Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*trigger*]

@thewrongsidee [Anti Post] [~Hostile/Hurtful~]

@un-sympatheticside-opinions [PM] [Anti Posts and reblog comments] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [~Hostile/Suicide-baiter~]

@unsympathetic-sandys-sides [Anti Posts] [DNI] [~Hostile~]

@wolfishhel [Anti Post] [*unfollow*] [~Hostile~]

@xionical [Anti Post] [*unfollow*]

@xtracheesy [Post] [~Violent~]

@yeet-ceit [Anti comment] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

💚 💚 💚 💚 💚

NOTP Remus/Roman List:

(Note: all post links have been moved to Gdoc)

@accidentally-logince [Reblog tags] [*unfollow*]

@adrianthealien [Ask]

@aleiimm [blog DNI list] [DNI]

@ambersky0319 [Post & Blog description] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@an-agender-disaster [Post] [DNI]

@angelpatton [Ask]

@angstyfanfiction [Post & Blog description] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@anti-virgil [Post] [DNI]

@ask-ordare-thedarksides [Post] [DNI]

@askthesandershshostclub [Blog description] [DNI]

@bitchyybabyy400 [PM]

@broadwaytheanimatedseries [Anti Reblog comment] [*unfollow*]

@broken-mirror-sanders-sides [PM] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@celeste-tyrrell [Blog description] [DNI]

@cheerycherrychampion38 [PM] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@chocomiruk [Blog description] [DNI]

@codeyellow-reptilian-rapscallion [Blog description] [DNI]

@cosmic-cleo [PM]

@creativitwinsagere [Blog description] [DNI]

@cryptidcherrry [Ask]

@deceit-propaganda [Post] [DNI]

@did-he-just-hiss-at-me [PM]

@down-low-gan [Post] [DNI]

@dr-skellington [Post] [*unfollow*]

@dragonindigo245 [Post & Blog description] [DNI]

@evilliouschroniclesfan [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@frostfiredragon [Anti Reblog comment] [*unfollow*]

@futuristiclovetrash [Reblog comment] [*unfollow*]

@galaxy-lilies [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@grayskiesrainyskies [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@hotcocoalover [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@imnotalwaysthebadguy [Reblog comment] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@izzyfandoms [Anti Reblog comment] [*unfollow*]

@jadabp [Ask] [DNI]

@janetsanders [Blog Description] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@joygaytrash [Anti Reblog comment] [*unfollow*] [~Violent~]

@juggalomilk [Blog Description] [DNI]

@kaileah-kat [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@kastrefeila [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@katie-the-noble-fangirl [Post] [DNI]

@kindasortaemo2 [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@knightinsoftpastels [Posts] [DNI]

@lackingroman [Anti Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@lavender-gumdrops [Ask]

@lawyerpatton [Ask]

@magikkittenz [Blog Description] [DNI]

@mango-shpango [Blog Description] [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@mariuex [Anti Reblog comment] [~Violent~]

@mayflowers07 [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI] [~Hostile~]

@monstermemories [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI] [~Violent~]

@ninja-girl2846 [Ask] [DNI] [*unfollow*] [*sensitive*]

@nogenderwhatsoever [Blog description] [DNI]

@ordinaryfander [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@pattontheback [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI] [~Violent~]

@peridot-the-kitten [DNI]

@phantomofthesanderssides [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@plauge-magic-doctor [Blog Description] [DNI]

@poppiesss [Post] [*unfollow*]

@pretty-odd-josh [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@pxrpleprincey [Ask]

@rawr-xd [PM] [DNI]

@remusisastinkybastard [Blog description] [DNI]

@remusrotten [Posts] [DNI]

@romansleftshoulderpad [Posts] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@ronnirotten [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@sanders-geeks [Blog description] [DNI]

@sanders-sides-reverse-au [Post] [DNI]

@sanders-sides-spoofs [Post] [DNI]

@sanders-sides-theories [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@sanders-sides-with-quinn [Post] [*unfollow*]

@sanders-stars [Post] [DNI]

@sandersfanders [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@sandersmuts [Anti Post] [DNI]

@secretkeeper007 [Anti Reblog comment] [*unfollow*]

@shirospeaks [Anti Reblog comment] [*unfollow*]

@shitpost-sides [PM]

@short-circut [Blog description] [DNI]

@shut-it-nerdywolverine [Ask]

@sizzlingfacedonut [Ask]

@softestpatton [DNI]

@space-captain-lars [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@sporkkles-irl [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@starryicarus [PM]

@stxrry-sanders [Blog description] [DNI]

@supersecretsanderssides [Blog description] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@sweetest-honeybee [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@swordscurse [Post] [DNI]

@sympathetic-deceit-trash [Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@teardroppeddew [Post] [*unfollow*]

@that-one-garbage-nerd [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@thefinaltatertot [Post & Blog description] [DNI]

@theprettiestflower [Post & Blog description] [DNI]

@thingysandstuff [Post] [*unfollow*]

@this-seat-sanders [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@thomas-sanders-is-my-life [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors [Blog description] [DNI]

@under-the-blue-moonlight [Blog description] [DNI]

@unsympathetic-character-thomas [PM] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@unsympathetic-remus [Blog description] [DNI]

@vaugleysassygrunt [Anti Reblog comment] [*unfollow*]

@virgil-negativity [PM] [DNI]

@virgilvigil [PM] [DNI]

@we-all-horny-here [Blog description] [DNI]

@whats-going-on-kiddos [Anti Post] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@why-should-i-tell-youu2 [Blog description] [DNI] [*sensitive*]

@wolves-on-caffeine [Post] [*unfollow*]

@wooflesthatwoof [PM]

@woorenergy [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@wowimsogoddamnoriginal [Reblog tags] [*unfollow*]

@zombie-teeth [*unfollow*]

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

NOTP (Dis)Honorable Mentions:

(Note: all post links have been moved to Gdoc)

The Anti-list started as a way for me to keep track of the anti-shipping posts I kept seeing being reblogged all over my dash. Since I went public with it, I’ve been re-editing the list and being more selective about who I automatically add to it. The below users were added to the list because instead of ignoring the discourse and scrolling past (or even just reblogging without a comment), they felt it necessary to jump on the anti-shipping bandwagon and add “don’t ship this” and/or “get out of the fandom”-esque comments, or they made a post that was hostile and/or insulting towards Remrom or its shippers. This is not a complete list, because not even I can keep track of the entire fandom, but it gives the reader some context into the scale of the discourse. While these users may not have expressly requested pro-shippers to stay away, it is a reasonable assumption that we should keep our distance - they have made it clear that they don’t want us on their blog and/or in this fandom.

[~Violent~] = This user, whether “as a joke haha” or “maliciously”, chose to punctuate their opinion with a threat of violence towards pro-shippers.

@1mothman1 [Anti Reblog comment]

@a-valorous-choice [Anti Reblog comment]

@alkimara [Anti Reblog comment]

@alwaysalilhigh [Anti Reblog comment]

@annoyinglytinyhideout [Anti Reblog comment]

@anxiouspannda [Anti Reblog comment]

@anxioustsfan [Anti Reblog comment]

@authorized-trash [Anti comment]

@breebro [Reblog comment] [DNI] [*unfollow*]

@cantthinkofagoodurlsorry [Anti Reblog comment]

@dascreatortreeula [Anti Reblog comment]

@everyoneprotector [Anti Reblog comment] [~Violent~]

@falseh0od [Anti Reblog comment]

@green-ball-of-trash [Anti Reblog comment]

@green-writes-sanderssides [Anti Reblog comment] [~Violent~]

@gummibearbullet [Anti Reblog comment]

@idosanderssidespromptssometimes [Post]

@lallyphant [Anti Post]

@mynamesmuse [Anti comment] [DNI] [~Violent~]

@nerdybrokecollegestudent [Anti Reblog comment]

@ninja-girl2846 [Anti Reblog comment]

@occasional-darksides-doodles [Anti Post]

@panicattheeverywhere13 [Anti Post]

@panicathesocialevent [Posts] [*unfollow*]

@patton-deserves-the-universe [Anti Reblog comment]

@paultinsrival [Anti Reblog comment]

@pinkroses030 [Anti Reblog comment] [DNI]

@puritysanders [Anti Reblog comment]

@rasberrytears [Anti Reblog comment]

@ravenkake [Anti Reblog comment]

@romanknite [Anti Reblog comment 1, Anti Reblog comment 2]

@royally-anxious [Anti Post] [*unfollow*]

@shadowybutangealicsongbird [Post]

@sleeping-is-for-the-weak-nerds [Anti Reblog comment]

@sugarglider9603 [Anti Post]

@sunshineandteddybears [Anti comment]

@taylordoescoversandstuff [Post]

@teacupfulofstarshine [Anti Post]

@the-weaver-of-worlds [Anti Post]

@the-yandere-kitsune [Anti Post comment]

@urlocalkookware [Anti Reblog comment]

@vestsfriends [Anti Reblog comment]

@virgil-in-the-bathroom [Post] [~Violent~]

@whats-up-bitch [Anti Reblog comment]

@whizzers [Anti Reblog comment] [~Violent~]

@whore-energy [Post] [*unfollow*]

@yty-is-a-gfeat [Anti Reblog comment]

(List last updated 08/25/2020)

(Gif credit goes to @hiddendreamer67)

#masterlist #antis #antishipping #do not interact #roman sanders #remus sanders #ts remus #sanders sides #thomas sanders #haters gonna hate #taglist #anti culture #dd is watching #NOTP

133 notes · View notes

gdreamzseternal · 5 years

Text

I’d like to thank

@myradfemblog for finding an extremely old porn blog of mine. I forgot it existed and it actually makes me sick to see that I was role playing such sick disgusting trauma that I went through thinking it would help when it made me so much worse. Thank you for abusing me over something I repeatedly asked you to give me the link to because I wasn’t going to go through your slander about me to find it.

I want to also say thanks because you pointing that out and me seeing that made me cry both from being triggered and realizing how far I’ve come. That I am extremely kink critical now. When I used to be heavily into it. That I don’t whore myself out anymore because “sex work makes me strong”. God I used to genuinely believe that. Makes me sick. I was so so sick. I was still victimizing myself back then...

But now.. I am a survivor.

Everyone advocated for and ignored the dangers of extreme methods of “beat the child into submission”. (Looking at you old people) It’s so sad cause I still see it now. The way a person who I had a normal discussion with suddenly gets to violently abuse me and degrade me just because they didn’t like what I had to say. Sounds like abusive parents. Everything’s cool til it’s not.

My dad beat my ass cause at 9 years old because I looked him in the eyes and told him to stop drinking cause he was being mean. Telling the truth got me abused. Look at that what a surprise.

Humans communicate differently than other creatures on the planet. Does that mean the other creatures don’t communicate? No. That just means they do things different. They don’t need vaccines because they were meant to survive and live here. If humans didn’t have their science we would all be dead! We are in a race with the planet to see who can kill who first. Will we kill the planet (which kills us too idiots) or will the planet eradicate us via disease and natural disasters and heal itself and start over (we still dead). Or do we chill on our population and help the earth heal by bein more considerate of our surroundings. Yeah none of you like me because I say it how it is without thinking about how it will affect any of you. So that means you get to abuse me. I’m not hurting anyone by simply sharing my views. Yet I am being hurt for speaking my views. I’m not actively slitting the throats of disabled people. I’m not saying we have to round up the retards that already exist and just shoot them. They should just be left in their natural form. Yeah give artificial limbs out cause that’s science but giving a nasty fat fuck a wheel chair cause boohoo they can’t loose weight? Nah true waste of resources. I’m saying we use the science that is our only advantage to prevent that from ever happening again.

All I’m doing is talking on MY BLOG. & I get death threats and told I should be raped by my father all over again. Simply for sharing my feelings on what will 1000000% save the greater good. It doesn’t even have to be permanent. Imagine if every grown man had to get a vasectomy for the next 20 years til all the excited potential parents get throughly processed to see if they are psychologically, psychically, financially and home stable to have children. Then there is a massive database of all the adorable kids waiting to find homes and they get to meet and have a 30 day period where THE CHILD decides if they like their new potential parents. Every couple/person wanting to adopt can adopt up to 2 kids and the kids get a say too.

Humans are not special and I don’t care if you disagree with me. Yet for some reason we literally act like gods gift (complete pun intended) That think who fucking cares what we do to everything around us including ourselves because this is OUR EARTH. We can do what WE WANT. Blah blah blah. Then the WHITE MEN put control on EVERYONE. Then slowly we colored folk said fuck you and made our own lives cause who gives a flying fuck about someone’s skin color except for white people. Then the humans just started literally takin over. Who cares if a bunch of birds nests lived in this tree? I want my new condo that I spend 2-3 months a year in right fucking here so the homes of those birds don’t matter. Let’s massively hunt these animals into extinction for our pleasure. (Okay Hitlers)

We are selfish

I wasn’t raised like you. I wasn’t raised by anyone but my own fucking brain. I never had any positive influences but the voices in my head. We see the world for what it is and not the false reality im creating for myself. I won’t even say ‘most’ if you were raised right because even today in 2019 the system and adults hide the abuse and damage that is really happening. Clearly this whole system isn’t working.

I was raised that literally everything in the whole world was both good and bad. So I learned to be objective and unbiased. Your feelings are what get you killed. Ask any dead kid who didn’t speak up about their abusive parents. And any bleeding out gangbanger who got felt offended by a color and killed someone over it. Someone who felt the desire to get high cause they have no self control and killed some to get $$. But it wasn’t them because even though they felt the need to do the drugs it wasn’t their fault.

So why are we going to keep adding more and more children to the solution when we don’t even know what to do with the poor innocent souls that we have now? We just pretend it’s not that big a deal and keep adding feul (the kids) to the fire (the shitty system). CLEARLY you all know there’s a problem and nothing any of you are doing is working.

So when do we take extreme measures? When do we ACTUALLY make a change. We have nuclear bombs hell ANY bomb and those are okay “when absolutely necessary” but allowing people to have kids they can’t afford, can’t raise, got raped into them, got one night standed with, can’t handle. A BOMB AFFECTS HUMANS AND THE ENVIRONMENT NEGATIVELY. Humans getting neutered (since that’s what you call it for other creatures) will effect the world positively. The bombs are okay though? We can MASS destroy life but we can’t mass PREVENT it from having to be destroyed or emotionally ruined in the first place? Not forever just til we get our shit together.

The abominations and retards. That’s EXACTLY WHAT THEY ARE that’s why no one likes when you mention it. They are like the endless elephant in the room. I will die by the quote, “A few bad apples ruins the whole barrel”. We think that it’s perfectly okay to keep adding bad genes to our makeup while simultaneously praying we live forever. It’s so tiresomely contradicting.

If you can all make such a fucking effort for these retard abominations that you breed. Then you can STOP breeding COMPLETELY until you give the kids homes that need them. Those kids will be more likely to become doctors getting adopted out to good homes. Then if they get left to rot in a shitty system while they walk in a grocery store with their mean foster mom and see a happy young couple PREGNANT with their first child when they could have adopted him. If you choose to give birth instead of adopting then you might as well walk up to a kid in a foster/group home and tell them they are garbage and ain’t ever going anywhere.

I still haven’t had my question answered... why does ANY HUMAN ON THIS ENTIRE PLANET need to breed when there are already so many homeless children?

So what is it are we going to stop breeding and adopt all the kids out to good homes that have been more throughly evaluated than a simple background check and having enough beds and money?

Are we going to keep creating a whole brand new system for the retards when the perfectly able children who would flourish with good parents system is still completely fucked?

Giving whole TV shows to literal human abominations for entertainment. Or humans that are forced to overbreed or sickly do it “for religious reasons”. You get to see how much their disability/struggles makes their life so hard but they are so ~brave and strong~ because society would rather force conjoined twins to spend their lives together or die trying to separate because human euthanasia is wrong until a human kills another human???????

Where does that make sense.

We are going to keep worrying more about the dysfunctional, malfunctioned, rejects of our society before the regular ones? We are going to keep following fake gods we have no proof of so that we don’t have to accept the realities of human nature.

Are we going to not do anything and ignore all the clear issues and keep adding more kids?

The same can be said about the immigrant shit in America. We have so many problems we don’t need anymore people and this place is fucked why would you wanna come here anyway? (I digress on this)

Are we going to keep throwing children out like trash in hopes that someone else will raise the busted nut you let fester in your womb?

Like out of those which one of these which one is the best option? Because all but one are things we are already doing and it isn’t working.

So hate me for being unbiased. But as my therapist (yes I discuss this with BOTH my Ts to make sure I am not delusional) put it. I am not looking at it for the benefit of humans. I’m looking at the benefit of the earth as a whole. I don’t want humans to all die off. But if it’s what it has to take in order for this planet to survive then so be it. There are so many other species, creatures, life on this Planet.

To put it simply you’re all simpleminded.

There is no god because Humans seem to think they are god. & we can breed, have our technology, have our vaccines. But as long as we are still over breeding and not adequately using our resources....

The Human Rights we are fighting for will not matter if there is nothing for the humans to live on.

This Earth is our home and there are too many of us right now. Too many of us doing too many wrong things.

Focus on the Human Wrongs then there will be no need for Human Rights because they will realize they are all just another species on this glorious and beautiful earth.

I know none of you were take anything from this.

You all were taught one way or you think one way and that is it there can’t be any other way and anyone else who thinks differently than that is wrong but at the end of the day my ideas are what will save humanity your ideas are what will destroy it. Your safe space will be irrelevant if you have no where to put it.

A human’s need to add feeling and emotion to everything is our biggest flaw.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk Typing Podcast

113 notes · View notes

frightcore · 5 years

Photo

Okay, so like, TS’s new song is bad. Like, really bad. Politically.

Like, let’s assume a totally innocent Taylor. All she wanted was to make a fun Pride song. Which isn’t what I believe but we’ll continue for this bit with that assumption.

The 4th and 5th lines, “You say it in the street, that’s a knock out / But you say it in a tweet, that’s a cop out” Within the context of the rest of the song being an “fuck you!!” to the homophobes, this line is saying that being homophobic IRL is something that she can respect. Which... isn’t good, especially when IRL homophobic hate can and has led to hate crimes and murders...so uh

Also the line about “shade never making anyone less gay”.... which reduces homophobia to just... well shade. Homophobia isn’t just insults and being rude in tweets or whatever, it’s violent. It’s abuse. She shouldn’t be making light of it, especially as a straight woman.

She says “sticks and stones never broke my bones” as if homophobia hurts her as a straight woman. yeah, they never broke your bones, because you’re straight. This is in especially poor taste considering that LGBT people have been literally stoned to death, and currently still are. Holy shit

“I aint tryna mess with your self expression” MA’AM BEING A BIGOT AINT SELF EXPRESSION, DO NOT IMPLY THAT IT IS

The other lines aren’t as bad, but they don’t feel...legitimate. like the GLAAD reference would be completely missed without a lyric sheet, and the “his gown” thing is a nice nod to GNC gay men, but this song only has the gay line and that line that nods to any specific identity, and its feminine cis gay men, which is great but its so minimal and just...ugh (plus feminine gay men get fedishized by straight women into being seen as the “gay best friend” and whatnot while completely ignoring or being disgusted by all other LGBT identities)

But lets get back to the totally innocent Taylor, and why I don’t believe this is entirely in good faith. I believe that this song was a generic “fuck the haters!!!1!!1!1!1″ song, until she and/or her producers realized that if they throw in a few references to Pride, and release it during June, they can rake in some brownie points. I mean, there’s a verse with the line “And we see you over there on the Internet / Comparing all the girls who are killing it” which...doesn’t relate to homo/transphobia. yeah it’s misogyny, but unrelated to the rest of the song. Taylor’s a famous woman: she’s frequently compared to other famous artists, but it sticks out in a Pride anthem, but not in a generic “women’s rights!” song.

Until the “Shade never made anyone less gay” line, there’s no mention of Pride within the song, besides the GLAAD reference and its kinda implied with Parade but like. one again. Easily missed. (PLUS there’s the tone deafness bc Pride... isn’t a parade. Yeah there are parades within Pride as a whole, but this line just... feels like Taylor views Pride as a party, as a spectacle). That line could just be a replacement for another generic line abt being a strong woman or whatever, and then the LAST MENTION OF ANYTHING RELATED TO BEING LGBT AND PRIDE is just a “dont step on his gown” which like. that’s a replaced pronoun. that’s it.

Also, as a note, the worst line in the song, that implies that being homophobic IRL is fuckin brave, gets a lot less bad when it becomes about “fuck the haters”. It goes from “I’m praising homophobes for being “brave” enough to be homophobic irl” to “well I gotta respect that you hold your opinion when you’re in my face”. It goes from global to personal.

This song, as it is, would be so EASY to just change into whatever “power” anthem is making money at the time. It’s so completely generic, so completely devoid of substance, devoid of legitimate meaning. But Taylor’s gonna get praised to high heavens for doing the bare minimum. LGBT people need to get better standards and stop praising the literal scraps thrown to us.

(PS. if you defend this as “ WELL WE DONT KNOW IF TAYLOR’S STRAIGHT”, fuck you. First of all, being straight as fuck has been her brand for years, get out of her. Evidence of her being gay, any of it that I’ve seen is a stretch. Also, FUCK you for speculating on a real person’s sexuality! I dislike Taylor as much as the next guy, but h o l y s h i t has is not already been established that speculating on a person’s sexuality is BAD? it’s an invasion of privacy, and can make actual closeted people feel incredibly unsafe and uncomfortable. be a decent human being and shut up)

#you need to calm down #taylor swift #pride #lgbtpride #My posts #This is meant to just. explain why its bad in case anyone in confused. I'll probably edit this in the morning bc its prob incoherent lmao #homophobia #transphobia

3 notes · View notes

creeping-shadow-heralds-storms · 3 years

Text

Nearly three years before Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin knelt on George Floyd as he cried out that he couldn’t breathe last May, Zoya Code found herself in a similar position: handcuffed facedown on the ground, with Chauvin’s knee on her.

The officer had answered a call of a domestic dispute at her home, and Code said he forced her down when she tried to pull away.

“He just stayed on my neck,” Code said, ignoring her desperate pleas to get off. Frustrated and upset, she challenged him to press harder. “Then he did. Just to shut me up,” she said.

Last week, a judge in Minnesota ruled that prosecutors could present the details of her 2017 arrest in their case against the former officer, who was charged with second-degree unintentional murder in Floyd’s death.

Code’s case was one of six arrests as far back as 2015 that the Minnesota attorney general’s office sought to introduce, arguing that they showed how Chauvin was using excessive force when he restrained people — by their necks or by kneeling on top of them — just as he did in arresting Floyd. Police records show that Chauvin was never formally reprimanded for any of these incidents, even though at least two of those arrested said they had filed formal complaints.

Of the six people arrested, two were Black, one was Latino and one was Native American. The race of two others was not included in the arrest reports that reporters examined.

Discussing the encounters publicly for the first time in interviews with The Marshall Project, three people who were arrested by Chauvin and a witness in a fourth incident described him as an unusually rough officer who was quick to use force and callous about their pain.

The interviews provide new insight into the history of a police officer whose handling of Floyd’s arrest, captured on video, was seen around the world and sparked months of protests in dozens of cities.

Chauvin, who was fired, has said through his attorney that his handling of Floyd’s arrest was a reasonable use of authorized force. But he was the subject of at least 22 complaints or internal investigations during his more than 19 years at the department, only one of which resulted in discipline. These new interviews show not only that he may have used excessive force in the past, but that he had used startlingly similar techniques.

All four people who told of their encounters with Chauvin had a history of run-ins with law enforcement, mostly for traffic and nonviolent offenses.

Code’s arrest occurred June 25, 2017. In a court filing, Chauvin’s lawyer, Eric J. Nelson, said the officer acted properly in the case, responding to “a violent crime in a volatile situation.” He said that “there was nothing unreasonable or unauthorized about Mr. Chauvin’s actions.”

Code’s mother had accused her of trying to choke her with an extension cord, according to the arrest report. Code said in an interview that her mother was swinging the cord around, and that she merely grabbed hold of it.

She said she had left the house to cool off after the fight and when she returned, Chauvin and his partner had arrived. In the prosecutors’ description, based on Chauvin’s report and body-camera video, Chauvin told Code she was under arrest and grabbed her arm. When she pulled away, he pulled her to the ground face first and knelt on her. The two officers then picked her up and carried her outside the house, facedown.

There, prosecutors said, Chauvin knelt on the back of the handcuffed woman “even though she was offering no physical resistance at all.”

Code, in an interview, said she began pleading: “Don’t kill me.”

At that point, according to the prosecutors’ account, Chauvin told his partner to restrain Code’s ankles as well, though she “was not being physically aggressive.”

As he tied her, she said, she told the other officer, “You’re learning from an animal. That man — that’s evilness right there.”

Misdemeanor domestic assault and disorderly conduct charges filed against Code were ultimately dropped.

‘You’re Choking Me’

The earliest incident in which prosecutors said Chauvin used excessive force took place Feb. 15, 2015, when he arrested Julian Hernandez — a carpenter who was on a road trip to Minneapolis to see a band at the El Nuevo Rodeo nightclub. Chauvin worked as an off-duty security officer there for almost 17 years.

The arrest report filed by Chauvin said Hernandez tried to leave the club through the wrong door, and Chauvin stopped him and escorted him down a stairwell. Hernandez said in an interview that he had been drinking, but felt like Chauvin was pushing him down the stairs.

Outside, Hernandez said, “things escalated.”

Chauvin’s report said that Hernandez tried to turn around as he was preparing to handcuff him, so he pushed him away “by applying pressure toward his lingual artery” at the top of the neck.

Hernandez said the officer told him “you just need to leave,” and he remembered thinking that he was trying to leave but was not being allowed to do so. As Chauvin pushed him into a wall and grabbed him by the throat, Hernandez recalled thinking, “You’re choking me.”

Hernandez said he tried to sue the department, but no lawyer would take his case. He was charged with disorderly conduct, but under a court agreement he avoided punishment by staying out of trouble for a year, records show.

Nelson, the officer’s lawyer, said in a court filing that there was no evidence that Chauvin acted improperly in “dealing with a resistant, aggressive arrestee by himself.”

Under the judge’s order, only Code’s arrest, among the six cases showing what may have been excessive force, can be used at Chauvin’s trial. Prosecutors also sought to include two additional cases they said showed just the opposite — that Chauvin knew how to use reasonable force to properly restrain a person.

The judge’s order will allow them to use one of those cases: an incident in which the police department commended Chauvin and other officers for taking lifesaving steps in placing a restrained, suicidal man on his side so he could breathe. Chauvin even rode with the man to the hospital, according to prosecutors.

According to the attorney general’s office, the arrest showed that he knew how important it was to avoid breathing problems in detainees. When he did not put Floyd in a similar side position, prosecutors contend, he understood that it could jeopardize his life.

. . .

The Minneapolis Police Department did not respond to queries about past complaints against Chauvin. Critics say the department has a long history of accusations of abuse, but never fully put in place federal recommendations to implement a better system of tracking complaints and punishing officers. Only a handful over the years have faced firing or serious punishment.

‘I Can’t Breathe,’ the Man Said

In another case prosecutors highlighted to try to establish a pattern of excessive force, a man said he landed in the hospital overnight after an encounter with Chauvin. The man, Jimmy Bostic, had made a purchase at the Midtown Global Market in April 2016 and was waiting for a ride when private security guards asked him to leave. A different shop owner had accused him of panhandling, the arrest report said. Bostic argued, and Chauvin was called in.

Chauvin escorted Bostic outside, writing in the arrest report that Bostic had threatened to spit on the owner.

“I closed distance with” Bostic, Chauvin wrote, “and secured his neck/head area with my hands.”

Bostic said in an interview that as Chauvin and the private security guards attempted to put him in cuffs, he yanked his arm back.

“The next thing I felt was arms just wrapped around my neck,” he said. “I started telling him, ‘Let go, I’m having trouble breathing. I have asthma. I can’t breathe.’”

Chauvin’s lawyer, in a court filing, said the officer “acted reasonably” and followed police policy in restraining Bostic, who he said was refusing orders and making threats.

After he was released from police custody at the scene, Bostic said, emergency medical workers took him to a hospital. Suffering from an asthma attack, he said, he stayed for over a day. A disorderly conduct charge against him was ultimately dropped.

“Looking back on Mr. Floyd, that could have been me,” said Bostic, who is now in state prison on an unrelated burglary conviction. “And I would no longer be alive right now to even tell my story.”

Monroe Skinaway, a 74-year-old Minneapolis resident, was a chance witness to another incident prosecutors cited that occurred in March 2019. He said in an interview that he had called the police after he spotted his grandson’s stolen car parked at a South Minneapolis gas station.

As he answered police questions about the car, Skinaway said, he saw a young man wandering nearby, asking officers to give him a ride. Skinaway said the man seemed “off.”

The man, named in the arrest report as Sir Rilee Peet, 26, followed one officer to his squad car. After Peet refused to take his hands out of his pockets, the officer tried to grab him, and they scuffled, the police report said.

That is when the other officer, identified in the report as Chauvin, sprayed Peet with Mace. Chauvin restrained him by the neck and pinned him facedown on the ground by kneeling on his lower back, according to the prosecutors’ description of body-camera video.

Skinaway said he remembers seeing the officer on top of Peet, but also something not mentioned in Chauvin’s account in the arrest report. Skinaway said the officer put Peet’s head, facedown, in a rain puddle. Other officers were present as well, he said.

“He said, ‘I can’t breathe — can I just put my head up?’” Skinaway said. “And they just held his face in the water, and I couldn’t see a purpose for that.”

Skinaway said he was about 7 feet away as he watched Peet struggle for air, bubbles surfacing as he tried to breathe. He estimated that the officer kept Peet in the puddle for two to three minutes. Whenever Peet managed to turn his head for air, Skinaway said, the officer grabbed him by his long hair and put his head back in the water.

When he spoke by phone with a reporter, Skinaway said he did not know the officer’s name or that there was a connection with the Floyd case, but the details he described match those noted in the police report and prosecutors’ account.

. . .

Peet was charged with misdemeanor obstruction of the legal process and disorderly conduct, but it is unclear from court records what happened to the charges. The records show Peet has a history of court-ordered treatment for mental illness. In a phone call, Peet told a reporter that he did not recall the encounter.

Some of those whom Chauvin arrested said that learning the same officer had been involved in Floyd’s death made them regret they had not pushed harder to hold the officer and the department accountable.

“I don’t have nothing against cops, I got relatives that are cops,” said Hernandez, the carpenter arrested at the nightclub. “But he should have never been on the force that long.”

#news #us news #politics #us politics #police brutality tw #police #police accountability #police corruption #police violence #reform the police #defund the police #thin blue line my @$$

0 notes

freyalor · 6 years

Note

Trevilieu-Smut-Prompt :D T+R are having fun in a dark, hidden room of the Louvres. A courtier comes in and T or R with Ts gun shoots him stone dead. They later find out that this courtier was planning to kill the King or R (imagine the irony of R shooting his own assassin :D) but they still have to explain the death to the king in front of the whole court and Louis wont accept Ts explanation that "we were arguing and yes I shoot people when I'm angry" (R is too relieved/giddy to be of any help)

This prompt is ages-old, but I told you, I never forget.

Here’s a lighter, funnier fic, definitely more settled in the BBC Musketeers univers than true history of France, because the mood of that prompt couldn’t lead any other way.

There you go, Schmetterling.

Foutu Jurançon. Rated E, 3k words, also on AO3

As I findmyself gaping, staring at the brains of a dead man splattered upon thehard-tiled floor, his blood-soaked face frozen in a grotesque mask of surprise,all my blurred mind can come up with is “foutuJurançon”.

It is true.It’s all the Jurançon’s fault.

In themorning, a King realizes it’s the anniversary of his father’s death. In thelate hours of the evening a man dies, his head blown into bits. Right inbetween those facts, lies the bloody Jurançon.

The VertGalant, Lord bless his soul, was many things including a loving father, and hisson Louis’ adoration for him never receded with time. Every year, on the daythe fateful blade of a red-haired lunatic called Ravaillac had stolen hisfather from him, Louis orders the whole Louvres to remember. Henry the Fourth’swhite banner is to be hanged on every wall, his portraits covered in roses andcarnations, and at every meal, his favorite wine must be served.

Richelieumanaged to refuse the dammed white poison at noon without too much of a fuss,elegantly mentioning his health and the Council scheduled for the afternoon.

He refusedit all the same, three more times, during the council itself.

But forsupper, considering the magnificentenergy the Cardinal had shown all afternoon in speeches and theatric moves,hints and allegations, threats and high praises, to persuade the King to cutthe Louvres’ costs in half and raise an army for the Southern border, Louislaughed away all excuses about his health.

-“Don’t youthink my father’s day deserves one drink, Cardinal?” The King muttered, andRichelieu never had been stupid enough to ignore the danger in Louis’ voice.

-“Of courseit does, Your Majesty” He breathed, bowing his head slightly as the Court’scupbearer poured the strong white wine in his glass.

Even fromafar, at the Officer’s table, I found it hard to hide a smile. I had sympathyfor Armand, I swear, because he barely drinks, and when he does, it is never strongerthan the regular red wine of the Court, which is basically water and spices.But something dark in me remembered how eagerhe can be when he’s drunk, and I was already, I must confess, preparing myambush.

I watchedbetween mirth and concern Louis keeping a heavy stare upon Armand all supperlong, ordering with a nod his glass to be refilled at a merciless pace.Richelieu accepted his fate, aware, no doubt, that most of it was Louis’revenge for the Hell he unleashed at the Council.

I myselfhad a taste of that deceitful liquid King Henry was so fond of, and I winced atthe fire it spread into my guts. God, how could one dagger kill a man who drankfive bottles of this a day?

Henry theFourth deserves every word of his legend.

It wasalready late in the evening when Louis grew tired of waiting for the Cardinalto do something embarrassing. Even through the King’s constant nagging andscrutiny, Armand bravely stood his ground, speaking clear and bright, movingsharp and quick. I wondered if anyone other than me noticed the deepening frownof his brow, a warning sign of his efforts.

Disappointed,Louis left the table, and Armand’s fingertips weakly rubbed his temple inrelief.

He excusedhimself no more than ten seconds later, and I followed unnoticed, because noone cares about the Officers table anyways.

I joinedhim in the gardens, under the wide arcades that led from the Great Hall to thePalais Cardinal. He walked straight, his chin held high, his stance flawless,but God, he walked slow. I gently touched his hand and he turned to me alreadysmiling, because he wasn’t drunk enough to be deaf to the sound of myfootsteps. I don’t think he ever will be.

We talked,this I am sure of, though I don’t remember what we spoke about. We talked inhushed voices, and at some point, I noticed the moonlight glow upon his hairagain, and I couldn’t refrain from touching it. He looked around, his eyesnarrowed, but still leaned into the touch with a low whimper, and soon enough hebreathed my name like only he can do, sealing my fate for that night.

I pushedhim backwards to the small door of an unused chapel under the clock tower ofthe Louvres. The place was cold and forlorn, stripped of its decorum since thebuilding of the magnificent Chapelle Royale and used from that moment as nomore than cubby for the gardeners. But I swear it was made holy by hispresence, even flustered and panting, his back hitting the ancient altar withbruising force. The door slammed shut and I kissed him hard, open-mouthed andmessy, tasting the infamous Jurançon on his fevered lips.

Oh, Lord, eager he was.

He grippedmy doublet to pull me against him, leaning back upon the cold stone wall. Thesight he was, framed by what was left of the ancient altar, like a moonlit iconpainted by the most skilled of all blasphemers. I would have been content witha few kisses I swear, but his eyes were blurred, and his hands fearless. Hegrabbed my crotch, giving it an expert squeeze, whispering the most sinfulpraise I ever heard. I cried out, catching fire, and started to open his robeswith a hunger I could hardly believe.

I pushedthe fabric down his shoulders, and he wore them like a stole once more, hiswhite skin offered to the chilly night air without the slightest shiver. He wasalready hard, flushed pink and twitching, which is rare enough to drive meinsane. Famished, I moved to kneel, licking my lips in raw want, but he refusedas always, making a quick work of my belt and pants instead. His fingers closedaround my shaft with confident accuracy, knowing how, and knowing when. ‘Take me’, he ordered, licking my ear,feasting on my shudder. ‘Fill me’, hebreathed, and I could come just to that sound.

Delirious,I think I just spat in my hand, stroked myself twice, then grabbed his thighsand lifted him up against the altar, thrusting in without a thought. Hescreamed, not entirely in pleasure, and I wished I could apologize, but he wasso tight I couldn’t focus. I was lost, I was damned, I was nothing more thanmoth to a flame. Drunk with wine and mad with lust, he forgot to bite on hiscries, and all I could do was to kiss them mute.

He’s neverbeen heavy, and I felt powerful. So, I took the time, played him a little, slowing down when I felt him tense, stoppingdead if I had to. He growled and hissed and cursed, one of his hands flying tograb the altar’s frame, his unfocused eyes rising to the faded Holy Crosspainted on the ceiling two hundred years ago, God, had this place even beendeconsecrated?

He didn’tlook like he cared much. He let me pound him against the ancient wall, hiscries echoing on the naked walls of the small, forgotten place.

At somepoint, mostly because I had reached my own limits, I grabbed his cock andthrusted harder, earning a high-pitched yell as the sweetest of rewards. Imight have lost track of the world at that time, I don’t remember much. Nothingmattered more than the fire in my guts, the violent pleasure he was giving me.I had no idea where my skin ended, when his began, lost to madness in the curveof his neck.

All I knowis that he started shuddering, spasming around me, soiling my doublet in hotsemen, and while I too came hard, moaning against his shoulder, I felt himdrawing my own pistol out of my belt in five quick moves, and the gunshot,right next to my ear, shattered my breath in pieces.

I blinked,once, twice, dizzy and panting against him, before I dared to look aside andtry to understand. I hadn’t dreamed. He was still there, pinned against thewall by my whole body, his legs encircling my hips. Pale as a sheet, one handon the altar frame, this other arm stretched out, using my shoulder as support,he was pointing my own pistol right behind my back.

I gasped,panicked, and looked over my shoulder.

Armand hadjust killed a man.

And here Iam, still deep inside him, staring at the way the dead man’s blood drawsarabesques upon the chapel’s floor, unable to do anything else than blaming theJurançon.

-“Holy shit, Armand!” I rasp, pulling outas gently as I could, easing his descent to the floor with my arms around hiswaist.

He looks calmenough, but he certainly still needs the wall to stand up. I quickly tuckmyself back in, and loosen his rigid fingers away from my gun one by one. Isheathe it neatly, asking him what the hell happened while I fold the lapels ofhis robes tight against his trembling frame.

-“I don’tknow.” He mutters. “He pushed the door and slipped in while we were… I didn’tthink it through.”

-“Oh,really?” I sneer, pointing at the corpse. “That’s what happens when you don’t thinkthings through?”

I walk tothe dead man, kneeling next to him with a flinch. God, bull’s eye. The bullet went right between the eyebrows, range closeenough to pop the back of the man’s skull right open. Even I wouldn’t have beenthat good of a shot during orgasm. Ihave a quick stare for Armand, between amazement and suspicion. Holding hisunbuttoned robes tight against himself, he just shrugs.

I sigh. That man is impossible.

I startsearching the corpse’s clothes. He is certainly no gardener. His clothes are avalet’s attire, but one of upper-hand quality. He must be a sommelier, or ahigh-graded cook, and since he doesn’t show any sign of recent traveling, hemust be working here at the Louvres, though I don’t think I’ve ever seen hisface.

-“Do youknow him?” I ask Armand, my hands deep into the man’s pockets.

Richelieusteps forward, gingerly, glancing down at the man’s broken face, and though Ididn’t think he could, he grows paler. He gulps, and shakes his head.

-“He hasn’tbeen around the King’s table this week.” He breathes. “I know, because as Itold you yesterday, we fear some revenge plot from Montmorency’s friends inParis, and I had all courtiers, servants and guests checked twice every day.”

I nod. Hetold me about Gaston’s latest comedy act. D’orléans paid the Duke ofMontmorency a fortune to secretly raise an army against the King. I had tobattle in two different cities to crush their troops, and Armand had to gatherall of father Joseph’s network of monk spies to intercept sufficient evidence.When Richelieu showed the letters to the King, Montmorency was still at courtbabbling praise to Louis’ every word.

Thedecapitation is scheduled next week.

I findnothing on the dead man. Armand keeps staring at the corpse’s glistening teeth,buttoning up his robes in anguished silence. After what the man had seen,Armand would have been likely to get him killed anyways, but shooting aninnocent man to the ground is quite harder to swallow than signing hisexecution order.

Thus,though I know I am speaking to a man who starved a whole city to death, I stillthink out loud, mostly to reassure him.

-“Listen,there are only two possibilities. Either this man meant no harm, and just heardus through the door, though that ancient gate is thick enough to hide aquartering, or he didn’t hear us, andcame here looking for something, or to meet someone.”

Armand frowns,thinking quick, and slides to the door. He pulls it ajar, glances outside, butsoon enough he shakes his head. No one in sight.

-“Hadanyone been near, “ he lets out in resignation, “the gunshot might have beensufficient clue as to the adjournment of the meeting.”

I nodagain.

-“Let’sassume he came looking for something.” I add, sweeping a tired gaze around thechapel.

This isnothing more than a wide closet, barely large enough for ten men to stand in.The walls have been bared to the cold stone, only a carved frieze and a fewancient roman paintings surviving. Only the stone structure of the altar isstill standing, with the remnants of the wooden altarpiece.

The rest,all around, are gardening tools, firewood and old buckets.

-“Where doyou hide something in a place like this?” I ask Armand, before he startsworrying again.

He has anoncommittal wave of his hand while he ponders, then walks to the right side ofthe altar, pointing at a few dozen worm-eaten planks resting there against thewall.

-“Thereshould be a credence there.” He states. “Something like a cabinet, carvedinside the wall. Every chapel has one, for the chalice and Mass wine.”

I sigh,gently push him aside, and kick the thick rotten planks until they crumble tomush at our feet. Behind them, just as he assumed, a small hole in the wallwhere there used to be a cabinet, the iron hinges of the door still visible.

In that holein the wall, neatly stacked upon each other, twenty vials of what Armandrecognizes as pure monkshood oil.

On top ofthem, a sealed envelope from the Duke of Montmorency’s son, Philippe. Inside,very detailed instructions about how and when to mix each of these vials intothe meals of twenty members of the Court, including the King, Richelieu, and tomy utter shock, myself.

Armandshudders, and I am sure what he just hissed under his breath was quite nasty.He has a furious glance for the dead man behind us, murmuring:

-“Now Iwish I could resurrect him, torture him until he talks, and shoot him deadagain.”

I let out abitter laugh, still dumbfounded by the size of the catastrophe Richelieu justsaved France from. By shooting a man becausehe had seen us having sex.

Truly, whatwere the odds.

BloodyJurançon.

I watch hisfingers fiddle with the instructions letter for a while, his eyes lost in thecrumbling wall paintings, his thinking no doubt already ten steps ahead of myown, and when I gently remind him we don’t have all night, he only declares:

-“We mustinform the King.”

-“Oh,absolutely!” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Tell Louis you just shot a man deadwithout a warning or a question. Go ahead, you’re not hated and feared enoughanyways.”

He clencheshis jaw, lifting his chin up, the storm of outrage brewing in his eyes, and Isense the speech coming, but I swear I don’t have time for this. I raise bothmy hands, a gesture of peace, and I whisper, resolute:

-“I’ll takefull responsibility of the shot. My gun, my hand. A blunt soldier can beexpected to act that recklessly, not the head of the King’s Council. Not abloody Roman Catholic Cardinal.”

The stormis washed away in a heartbeat, replaced by clear skies of surprise and thankfulness.He doesn’t speak, he just takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. His darkstare above my fingers is burning so bright I have to look away, because the limitlessintensity of that man often makes myhead spin. I can’t believe how tempted I am to lick a path down his neck again,while right behind my back, a fresh corpse is getting cold.

How insanehave I become?

-“Now,” hesoftly muses, “there’s only a small detail left : how exactly are we going to explainLouis what we were doing here in the first place?”

I wince,swearing loudly.

He tuts,and signs my forehead.

***

-“Cardinal,Treville, your alacrity has saved us from unmeasurable grief.”

Armandpulls out his most elegant half-bow, a well-mastered lie forged specially tomake people believe he’s more humbled than proud.

I just nod.

Louis,still pale and shaken from having been roused in the early morning with news ofanother plot unveiled, sighs in relief, ordering five of his Guards to arrestMontmorency’s son today. As the men salute and leave, he bites his lips, staringat the letter Richelieu slid into his hands with a wooden box containing thetwenty vials.

-“This wasa slaughter in the making. That cook Montmorency recruited was among the mosttrusted of my staff. Is everyone around me so drenched into sin?”

I cough,avert my eyes.

Armandstands perfectly still.

Louisfrowns, looking up at us from his very bed, rubbing the last remnants of sleep offthe corner of his eyes.

-“How haveyou come to discover these?” he asks, alright,here we go.

Richelieustraightens his back a little, exhales, opens his mouth, and both Louis and I knowwe’re in for half an hour. Since theKing looks tired, Armand looks worn-out, and I could use a fucking nap, I cuthim short and speak:

-“I waswalking the Cardinal back to his palace for safety reasons. The Cardinal and I starteddiscussing the strategy used during the two last battles against Montmorency’stroops. We had … slightly divergent point of views.”

Louis huffsa knowing laugh, and his worried stare softens with fondness.

-“You werearguing again, weren’t you?” He throws at us, and Armand takes half a stepback, suddenly captivated by the feet of the King’s bed.

-“Yes.” Inod

Louischuckles.

-“As it isagainst both our discipline to discuss military strategies in public,” I add, “wedecided to move our debate into a quieter place, such as the former East Wingchapel.”

-“Youwanted no witnesses in case you needed to punch him.” Louis deadpans.

Richelieugasps, joining his hands upon his chest in a perfect sign of flouted innocence,but as the King truly laughs this time, he is wise enough not to interrupt.

-“Yes, YourMajesty.” I claim. “The cook arrived in the middle of our… discussion. Myjudgement was clouded by my irritation. I shot the intruder.”

Armand sighs,squeezes his eyes shut, one slender hand coming to rub the brink of his nose inutmost lassitude. I have no idea, between my forgery and hangover, what bringshim that headache, but it isn’t going to be a soft one.

Silencefalls. Five, ten seconds.

-“You shot aman who happened to pass by, “ Louis gently states, “because you were angry.”

-“Yes, YourMajesty.”

The Kingstares at me with disbelief, amazement, and the slightest bit of fear. I standat attention, face as blank as I could, unable to tell if it’s worry orlaughter I’m fighting.

But after awhile, Louis slowly shakes his head, blinking a few times, and dismisses bothof us with a tired sentence about how wild voracious temperaments that might bevery useful to the Crown upon a battlefield should be tamed and controlled atCourt.

Armandpraises the king’s wisdom in carefully chosen words, and grants me five secondsof a heavy, reproachful bloodshot glare as I hold the door open for him.

But as wewalk in silence towards his apartments, I know he adjusts his pace to stayclose to mine, I sense his eyes softening, and if he thinks I don’t notice hishand twitching towards mine as he opens the doors to his study, well, he’s damnwrong.

I step in,close the door behind us, and watch him collapse on a chair with the funniestgroan I have never heard from him. He’s right, though, he’s right indeed.

What anight.

Foutu Jurançon.

#fic prompt #team trevilieu #Captain Treville #Cardinal Richelieu #trevilieu #some more reason to get hate comments I guess #NO ONE CAN STOP THE SMUT #I'll only SMUT HARDER #(that's what Armand said)

24 notes · View notes

hollygopossumlovesj2 · 7 years

Text

Swept Away, Part 1

Characters: Dean Winchester (23 years old, so preseason 1), Reader. (future x reader) mentions of John, Sam and Reader’s family.

Warnings: ANGST, Dean’s self worth problems, severe injury, canon level violence. Mention of medications for pain and anxiety. Also, abuse of John Winchester’s parenting skills. This part is PG-13 but will be at least R in future parts. (Also credit to whoever made the gif, its not mine. I found it on Google.)

Summary: John sends Dean to the mountains of Agness, Oregon alone to track a possible werewolf. What he finds turns out to be a little more than he can handle. Dean is left wondering if his father set him up to fail.

A/N: So, this was written for @mamaredd123‘s Angst Appreciation Day Challenge, Shred All the Hearts. My prompt was to use the song ‘Listen to Your Heart’ by Roxette and to rip peoples hearts out. I hope I deliver on this request. I’m late as hell and I deeply apologize. This is only the first part, but there is plenty of angst here to enjoy.

I know there's something in the wake of your smile. I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yea. You've built a love but that love falls apart. Your little piece of heaven turns too dark.

It was a sunny, warm day in Agness, Oregon, and you couldn’t get a Roxette song out of your head. You had no idea why it was stuck on replay, but it wasn’t unusual for your brain to taunt you in this way. Wisps of thin clouds that look like they've been painted on a bright blue sky float by on a cool breeze. A promise that the temperature will drop nearly thirty degrees when the sun goes down due to the proximity of the mountains. You like the feeling of freedom that the place gives you, but you could do without the dramatic drops in temperature.

Your house sitting while your grandparents are spending the summer touring Europe. Being a junior in college, and accepting anything that would give decent pay, you are actually enjoying your alone time. Whether you are home in Seattle, Washington or at school at Washington State in Pullman, you are constantly surrounded by people.

Out here, in your grandparent’s cabin on the bank of the Rogue River, it's peaceful. You found yourself sitting on the deck most days, typing away at the book you've been writing for a year now. But, you can't expect much else from an English major with aspirations of publishing your many adventures one day, can you?

You don't really want for anything out here, except for maybe a Starbucks. You drive an hour out to buy a couple of weeks’ worth of groceries and that is your quota fill of socializing. If you are feeling extra adventurous, you stop at the Olive Garden on the route back home.

Agness is a small town, filled with mostly retired couples and the occasional tourist. From your trips into the quaint downtown to get your Starbucks fix in the form of a glass bottled Frappuccino, you’d met pretty much everyone in the neighborhood.

The residents all treat you like you are their own grandchild, dropping off meals and baked goods regularly. There is also Dr. Marjorie Foster, a divorcee who likes to pop by after crazy days at the hospital to share a bottle of wine and sarcastic banter. So, although you are technically alone, you feel rather safe and spoiled.

Listen to your heart when he's calling for you. Listen to your heart there's nothing else you can do.

That's probably why you were drawn to the black Chevy Impala parked to the left of the small parking lot. It was parked beneath a copse of trees, like the big black beauty could ever be inconspicuous. Add that to the silver scratches all along its side and hood, plus the flat tire that was sitting on its rim, made it even harder to miss.

Maybe it's your insatiable curiosity that makes you walk a little closer to the damaged vehicle? It does tend to get you into a lot of trouble. You'd probably never know for sure. But you won't forget your first look inside.

The upholstery is slashed open, bits of yellow foam and tufts of heavy cotton are strewn about. But what catches your attention is the motionless heap in the back seat that you know, just by the sinking feeling in your gut, is a person who needs help.

You won't remember how you closed the distance between you and the car so quickly. Or your train of thought when you try to open the door only to discover it locked. You wrap your over shirt over your arm and put your elbow through the window without hesitation. You'll question your strength later.

By now Gregory, Matilda's husband (the one who makes incredible venison stew), stops pumping gas to see what all the commotion is about. You are already digging through the seat stuffing and blankets by the time he arrives behind you.

You faintly hear him speaking to someone on the phone, reporting in a panicked yet succinct tone to emergency officials, when you finally find bloody, pale skin. Luckily, it's attached to a person who is unfortunately torn to shreds.

“Hey!” You don't dare move him. Isn't that one of the basic rules in case of a back or neck injury? When the final blanket is pulled back you see the sharp jaw and hint of rose gold stubble. “Sir, can you hear me?” Your only response is a growled groan muffled by the seat where he has his face buried. But, at least it's something, right?

You take a quick survey of the inside of the car, noting used bandage papers and an empty bottle of cheap whiskey. When you climb into the car and sit down, your foot kicks an old bottle of pills. Was the man suicidal? All of this blood loss, whisky and upon looking at the label you discover that it is Darvocet. That stuff had been pulled off the market for years now!

“Hey, you with me?” He eases himself painfully slow into a sitting position, causing him to cry out hoarsely in pain. His voice already shredded like he had already done some screaming. He's panting in loud, painfully abrupt breaths through his open mouth. Everything about his boyish face is pinched with pain. Your heart squeezes with sympathy and absolute helplessness. You should've gone to med school like your dad wanted you to. Then you'd know exactly what to do.

You note then that his front side doesn't look any better than his blood soaked back does. It also revealed how his left leg is mangled and twisted in unnatural directions. Some of the blood is dried, making his skin stick to the seat. There’s no telling how long he'd been in this car bleeding and in pain.

“T’ll S- S’mmy, ‘m s-s’rry.” When you finally lock onto his ghost pale face, the expression there kicks you right in the stomach with a steel toed boot. His split bottom lip and chin are quivering with repressed emotion. His voice comes out shaky and raspy because he's vibrating with shivers that you know probably mean that he's in shock. He's probably been in shock for a while.

I don't know where you're going and I don't know why, but listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye.

This guy, because man seemed like a bit much since he couldn't be much older than you, may very well have been trying to end it all if the pain openly displayed on his face is anything to go by. Through the black, crusted blood you can tell with startling clarity the difference between the physical and emotional pain on his expressive face.

You fight the urge to push his hair out of his eyes, which is obviously overgrown from a short haircut. It appears that way, anyway, judging by the shaggy and uneven ends. He looks like even his hair follicles hurt, caked in crusted and congealing blood, so you refrain.

“You're gonna tell him yourself.” You answer firmly as you wrap the scratchy, stiff blanket back over his shoulders when he shivers again violently.

Even that small movement prompts deeply hurt, wounded noises that get caught in the back of his throat, but you can tell that he's trying to hide just how much pain he’s in.

It makes you briefly wonder how someone who should be going to college or discovering themselves learned to be that damned stoic. “Hang in there, helps on the way. Is there anyone I can call for you?” You plead, wishing that the ambulance would hurry so that there was a way to eventually rectify the abject misery on his face. He's looking at you through his pain filled gaze as he softy answers ‘no’ and it rips your heart out. You feel inept and helpless.

Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile. The precious moments are all lost in the tide, yea. They're swept away and nothing is what it seems, the feeling of belonging to your dreams.

“An’ m’dad, too. T-t’ll m’s-srry I c’dn’t f-finish th’ j’b.” Liquid that has been building up in his eyes soon gives way to fat tears that tracks strange patterns through the new and old blood when he can't hold them back anymore. As he confesses what he thinks are his last words through busted, numb lips, it makes an icy shiver skip down your spine. “…’ts m’ f-fault… p-people ‘r g’nna die ‘causa m-me…” Tears progress into hiccupping sobs that make him squeeze his eyes shut against what you feel he thinks of as weakness and pain.

You look briefly for a wallet or phone, finding the latter on the floorboard. You get two seconds to feel victorious before you discover that there is a giant tooth mark in the middle, cracking the small screen into unusable pieces. “Shit.” Just what the hell had he gotten into that would cause so much damage? “What's your name?” You look for somewhere uninjured to rest a reassuring hand but can't find anywhere promising.

“Dean W’nchester.” You'll realize later how profound it is that he gave you his real name. That it was because all of his layers and walls were stripped down to nothing.

You know his bottomless green-hazel eyes will haunt you for the rest of your life if he doesn't make it. There was no other ending that you can bear to imagine for him. You know it sounds so naïve, but someone with this much soul can't just die such a horrific death all alone. You feel a small amount of relief when you can finally hear the sirens of the ambulance in the distance.

“They'll be here any second.” As you say the words you're not sure who you're trying to console more.

There's an hour drive to the nearest hospital in Gold Beach in his future. It's a small hospital that is the size of maybe two Costco warehouses shoved together. But surely, amongst their few floors of equipment and educated staff, they can fix the broken pieces?

In the two seconds of silence you decide that you can be positive enough for the both of you.

“Dean Winchester?” You rest your hand lightly over the one he isn't using to prop himself up. It startles you when his cold sweat covered hand grasps yours back painfully tight. The way he clings to you like you're a lifeline make tears pool in your eyes. “You're gonna make it. I promise.”

Dean’s POV:

I wake up suddenly, claws and massive, drooling jowls snap viciously at me from behind deep, shifting shadows. It feels like the beast is sitting on my chest, making it cave in. It's putrid, hot breath on my face. My ribs barely put up a fight before they snap like twigs beneath its weight, white hot, stabbing pains through my belly.

I try to struggle free but my arms and legs won't obey my commands for them to move. To fight back. So, all I can do is wait for him to consume me for dinner. All I hear are growls and distant shouting that are drowning out a strange, tinny beeping noise in the background. It reminds me of the sound of its claws digging into Baby’s quarter panel as it tried to peel her open and drag me back out into the dark of the mountain. Of the liquid heat of pain as it's claws raked through my skin like I was soft butter.

But then I hear, “Dean.” It kind of sounds like Sammy before his voice changed, soft and kind, if a little static and warped. But that can't be right. I hope that it means that the past few years were a nightmare, but it's only a slight hope. Good things rarely happen to a Winchester.

It's probably some newly created fresh hell conjured to torture and destroy me in my last seconds on earth. The thing I was hunting was a were wolf, I was sure of it. He looked normal, all wolfed out with gray, wiry hair. But when it found me… It was like his senses and strength were beyond what a normal were was capable of.

But it's too tempting not to answer, even if it's not real, as the tinny noise gets louder and more frantic. I'd give anything to be able to talk to Sam and tell him how sorry I am. I'd kill to tell him that I would stand up to Dad more so that we don't have to move around so much. So he can go to college close by. Anything. I can be better so he wants to come back.

The crushing weight of remembering that I'm alone nearly drowns out the relief of hearing Sam's voice. But I'm just that delirious to believe.

“S’mmy?”

I gag, choking on something that tastes a lot like old blood and cotton balls stuck in my throat. I finally get my arm to move so that I can remove whatever is clinging to my face. So that I can catch my breath but something heavy slams into my forehead.

“Dean. Hey, Dean! Please stop, you're gonna hurt yourself.”

And just like that all the fight drains out of me, envisioning a young Sammy with his stupid floppy hair and worry bright little kid eyes that are way too smart for his own good. “K, S’mmy. M’ s’rry.”

“You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay.” I feel the softest pressure against my temple and fingers brushing through my hair before I tunnel into nothingness.

When I wake up the second time the beeping doesn't sound so tinny. With the way my body and head aches, it actually sounds like its right in my ear. Fuck. I hope Sam got the license plate number off the damn truck that mowed me over. We were gonna sue the hell outta that bastard.

But what if he ran over Sam or Dad?

At that thought, my eyes shoot open and I'm moving before I even know what's weighing me down. I manage to drag my legs over the side of the bed just as a nurse comes running in.

“Mr. Winchester, please! Stop-“

However, I've already got the momentum going apparently and drop like a bag of damn rocks to the hard linoleum floor just as I realize my leg is encased in a large, heavy cast and incapable of holding my weight. Ugh. I didn't even want to know what kind of germs I was sitting in!

Belatedly, like a flame starting as a tiny spark only to turn into licking blaze-like pain engulfed me for an undeterminable amount of time. Like it had fought through the pain killers just for the joy of kicking my ass. I made sure not to panic. I had been in this headspace before, and nothing could be gained by losing my shit.

The first thing I vaguely noticed as the pained haze started to morph into a deep chasm of an entire body ache was a strange warmth crawling down my arm and thigh. Upon further investigation I discovered that I had managed to pull out both my iv catheter and my pee bag. Just fucking lovely.

The nurse with the pretty milk chocolate skin and curves enough to make a grown man weep had a look of deep sympathy on her doe features. “Well, welcome back to the world Mr. Winchester. Let's get you cleaned up, huh?”

I was beyond grateful that she didn't coo or fawn over me, saving what was left of my pride. However, there wasn't going to be much left for long.

What’s more embarrassing than getting a sponge bath from a beautiful woman in a totally not sexy way? It's having those same color rich eyes look at you with pity when you tell her for the millionth time that you don't have anyone to call while reinserting a catheter. Into your dick.

If I was hunting with Dad or Sam it would be up to me to sneak outta here and meet up at the first motel in the phone book. But that was why I was laid up in bed, wasn't it? Because Dad trusted me with a job and I'd gotten myself taken outta the game in the recon phase. Pathetic. It kinda makes a person unmotivated to move at all.

Honestly, I can't even remember how I got my dumb ass back to the Impala. 23 years of following my Dad around and apparently I had learned nothing from him. Even my memory was shot to hell, fuzzy and useless.

I drifted in and out as Octavia, who turned out not to be a nurse, but a third year intern, filled me in on my injuries. I lost count of how many stitches they'd done and how aggressively they'd had to treat my wounds with heavy iv antibiotics. She wasn't telling me anything I hadn't been through before, but I nodded along like I was concerned just the same.

Which, to be honest, wasn't all that hard because the memory of how these injuries were given to me appeared in flashes of red and black.

It wasn't too damning until she told me about my leg being broken. Which, hello! Cast! They'd been able to put a regular bone pin in my tibia, and she assured me that I'd be transitioning into a weight bearing boot in a couple of weeks.

Then, there was my right arm. Ha! They had to reset my shoulder (but honestly the damn thing had been out of joint at least three times already. No big deal.) there was a single break in my fore arm, which alright, no big. But it was just my luck that my trigger finger and thumb had been heavily bruised and had tiny hairline fractures on both of them.

Fuck.

Where was I gonna go? What was I gonna do when they inevitably kicked my homeless ass out of here? I didn't have enough money for pain meds, much less heavy duty antibiotics! And I'd be damned before I called my Dad to tell him how epically I failed at the hunt. At being a human being in general.

How was I gonna finish the hunt?

And my trigger finger was fucked!

Distantly I registered that stupid heart monitor beeping shrilly. God damnit, how could I have gotten myself into this mess?

“Calm down, Mr. Winchester.” Octavia sounded infinitely patient but firm as she adjusted the drip rate on my iv bag. I instantly start to feel calmer and I couldn't drum up enough energy to be indignant, sure that I was being given a sedative. If anything, I'd embrace the big black nothing just to not have to feel.

After a few moments I felt my heart rate slow, a cloud of comfort falling over me and making my problems a distant memory even though I knew they were right on the surface.

“Well, sugar, you do have a visitor. Now that you're back to your handsome self, do you want me to bring her back?” Her tone of voice was warm as she regarded me with her hands on her hips. I so wanted to say something flirty, maybe flash her a grin like I'd done to win over many a witness. I just didn't have the energy.

Sam had called it disgusting. I'd said flirting was my super power. Then Sam had said that ‘being a manwhore is not a super power.’

Aside from that, I couldn't figure out what she meant by visitor. Was it possible that Dad or… or maybe even Sam? But he'd have to be damn psychic.

She must've read the confusion all over my face. I could hear my father’s voice right in my ear, ‘Need to work on that poker face, son. You're gettin’ sloppy.’ Yeah, if he only knew.

“I would make time in this busy schedule of yours. Another couple of hours in that car and you wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for Y/N.” She was somehow stern while maintaining a kind face that I was afraid to cross. At my nod of agreement, she smiled wide. “Good boy.”

I vaguely remembered a girl climbing in Baby and helping me to sit up. Which had caused a whole hell of a lotta unnecessary pain if you asked me. But she had spoken in a soft voice and held my bloody hand. Maybe she'd even promised that I would live after I'd sat there and blubbered like an infant.

Still, no matter how relaxed I was, I wasn't prepared for the amount of beautiful that breezed through that doorway behind Octavia. In fact, I'm pretty sure my mouth was hanging open when Octavia spoke to me again in an amused tone.

“You just use that call button if you need anything, okay?” And then she was backing out with a smile and leaving me alone with… God, it was juvenile to think, but how could she be so striking? I was all for appreciating natural beauty, but her features stood out as exotic. Like she belonged in the wild with her long, wavy hair flowing behind her.

“Hey, Dean Winchester. You look a little better than you did a few days ago.” Her smile was warm and a little flirty as her lips formed the words and I struggled to comprehend them for a moment.

“A few days?” I managed to get out through my scratchy throat.

The smile fell as she bit her bottom lip when she nodded to confirm my fear. “It's actually been a couple of weeks. They were worried you wouldn't wake up again. That maybe you'd lost too much oxygen to your brain and caused some damage.”

Ha, now Dad could officially call me brain damaged! If he ever managed to find out about this little accident. Which he wouldn't if I had any say in the matter. It's not like he checked in very often nowadays. He was still brooding over Sam leaving and being stuck with the stupid son.

In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to have sent me out on my own in hopes that I would get eaten. “Sorry to disappoint, Dad.” I muttered and felt the sardonic smile curl a side of my lip upward before I realized she was still here. “Sorry.” There was nothing left for me to do but close my eyes and feel my face flush in helpless embarrassment. Because that's just what I was. Helpless and in a medicated fog. I didn't even have the energy to pretend, not enough brain power to say ‘sorry, sweetheart’ with some kind of move to make her forget she ever saw me like this.

“Well, anyway.” I heard her steps move closer and opened my eyes to watch her swap out some dying flowers for a fresh bundle of purple like she'd been doing this all week. Maybe she had? The renewed scent of lavender filling the room and blocking out some of the hospital antiseptic was familiar. “I'm glad you're awake and getting better.”

She then sat down on the chair that was already perched close to the side of the bed with even more familiarity than the flowers. My mind immediately jumped to the Sammy-like voice that I'd heard before. “You were in here the first time I woke up.” I didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did, but I was horrified that this girl kept seeing me in a vulnerable position over and over.

“Yes.” She didn't sound the least bit remorseful, maybe she was even a little defiant. “You were dreaming about being attacked. I felt so bad when they came in to sedate you, but you were gonna tear out your stitches.” She actually did look like she'd been worried and I couldn't figure out why she would be sitting at some strangers bedside wasting energy on worrying over them.

“How are you allowed in here anyway? Isn't it family only or some crap like that?” I was clearly lashing out and defensive because I was uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean I could stop it.

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but this place is smaller than Mayberry and I happen to have some connections.” She obviously meant that to be funny, but as the tone of my face didn't change, she straightened up in her seat. “I can go, if you want.” Why did she have to look so earnest and sweet, flashing puppy dog eyes so much like my little brothers? Only, they were the wrong shade of brown. “I actually used to volunteer here for a few summers. So, I kind of know everyone.” Her eyes brightened a little, “but that means I know where they stash the extra jello.”

“Well, I guess you can stay then, sweetheart.” The meds were messing with me, but I did manage to flash her a grin. If I were a stronger person I would've turned her away, but just a little human contact couldn't hurt, right? My father already thought I was a failure, might as well go for broke.

So, she stayed. Since I wasn't much for conversation, she mostly told me everything about herself. About college, what she was studying and summer break. (And didn't that hurt, thinking of Sam preferring to hang out with kids his own age instead of contacting me) About house sitting for her grandparents and what a ‘lovely’ little town Agness was.

Despite being on the knifes edge of explicit pain, I found her voice calming. I dozed off a few times, much to my embarrassment, but she didn't seem to mind. She only picked up where she left off.

When my first meal since I couldn't even remember arrived in the form of cream of wheat and beef broth, she got up to leave. She patted the top of my head softly, a move I would've found irritating if it hadn't felt so good. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

I even let her get close enough to kiss my cheek before she left and it was a pattern she continued to follow. I let her smooth down my hopeless hospital hair because it felt so damn good to be touched. I didn’t trust that I would see her again. But, I did.

Every few days she would replace the flowers without question and smuggle in extra Jello in her bag. I got used to her coming and was horrified that I looked forward to listening to her banter on without asking me 20 (painful) questions about my life.

The one day she didn't show up was actually a little devastating. The only thing that rectified the whole ordeal was that she'd texted Octavia to tell me she wouldn't be in. Octavia was the one to sneak in an extra pudding that night. I appreciated it, even though she brought the sugar free kind.

On top of being denied what I'd started to affectionately call my ‘candy striper time’, I was bombarded by financial services. They were looking for identification and insurance. Which I had neither.

The white haired, plump representative lady had left very disappointed. And I started to feel even more antsy. They were weaning me off of the iv pain killers onto pills with less strength. I could still feel the hum of muted pain through my body, but I couldn't bring myself to say a word.

The lady returned with another clip board later that day and I felt my face flush red as my blood pressure sky rocketed. She must've seen how irritated (anxious) I was because she explained immediately.

“Well, I had no idea you were a cousin of Y/N’s!” She paused for a moment, watching me expectantly for a reaction. When I gave her none, which what was I supposed to say? Yeah, being cousins is great! Did I even have real cousins?

She handed over the clipboard and pen and pointed out what I needed to fill out and where I needed to sign. Ha, like my signature actually meant anything! When I was finished with that, she flipped the page over and instructed me to fill out the form beneath it.

“The Y/L/N’s are very influential around here in the West Oregon and Washington areas. You're very lucky to be a part of that family, young man. All of your medical services will be covered. So, you make sure you keep those recheck appointments.”

I gave her an attempt at a smile, but I'm sure it fell flat. The best thing about it was that she didn't stick around for long.

After she left, I passed the rest of my time going between wondering how Sammy was doin and why Y/N had really picked me as a charity case. Which, come on, it wasn't like she picked me for my swollen face and sexual prowess. There had to be a catch.

It was somewhere around day 21 when Y/N came wheeling in with a wheel chair and an expectant look on her face. The days had been slipping by in a blur of all manner of people poking and prodding. If it weren’t for the open blinds on the window, I wouldn’t have a clue.

“I'm springing ya, Winchester.”

I'd spent the entire day in fear of those words. Where was I supposed to go? The impala wasn't moving without a lot of tender loving care and she was parked right in the middle of town. I couldn't just stay there and wait it out until I could move again.

“Already?” I managed, my voice was still scratched all to hell. It made me sound like I was going through freaking puberty again. Oh well, just add that to the list of shit happens. “I haven’t even called my ride yet.”

She smiled brightly, like seriously, how were her teeth so white? “I’m your ride.”

And how could I argue with that? ‘No, that’s okay, my Dad’ll show up. I promise?’ Or maybe, ‘Hey, my brother isn’t too far south from here. He could totally be here in a day…’

So, against my better judgement and all of my instincts telling me that this was ridiculous… I let her lead the way for better or for worse.

Tagging: @mamaredd123, @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyxx , @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess, @hbenth, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @mysteriouslyme82, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @spn67-sister, @tas898, @wheresthekillswitch, @glendagiggles, @mandymoiselle1970

If you would like to be on this list (or off), let me know! Also, I’d love if you took the time to let me know what you think so far. This story will have at least one more part, possibly two.

#shred all the hearts #mama's shred all the hearts challenge #angst appreciation day #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fan fiction #dean #dean winchester and reader #young dean winchester #mamaredd123 #swept away #swept away part one #to be continued

134 notes · View notes