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loverslantern · 1 year ago

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The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x Fem! reader

Description: A small town where dark secrets unfold isn’t anything new to these seasoned hunters, except when it has something to do with urban legends…apparently.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions/talk of suicide, mentions of gruesome death, eye bleeding, Blood Mary (idk if this would be a warning but like 🤷🏼‍♀️), mentions of murder, witchy stuff

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra ,@fablesrose

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out again my AP class is really AP-ing and has taken up literally all my time. I spent four days working on a 20 pages packet that took forever meaning I had zero time for this. Again so so sorry.

Word count: 7,719

Bloody Mary

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

“Sam, wake up.” Dean nudges the man in question, the car in park.

Sam wakes, confused, he sits up and looks around. “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one.” Dean confirms, and I nod too a frown on my face.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam offers

“Sam” I stretch out his name, “that cannot be your positive to this.”

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” Dean adds.

But Sam ignores us, avoids the whole conversation, “Are we here?”

Dean lets him avoid the whole ordeal and I have to wonder how long he will let his brother lie. Though I guess I'm no better. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

Sam picks up a newspaper that sat on the console of the car, the obituary of Steven Shoemaker circled.

‘The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemarker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday, [...] 31 at 2:00 p.m. at the Toledo [...] and cherish you [...] Your [...]’ The article read.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam asks us.

“That's what we're gonna find out.” Dean answers, turning off the car. “Let's go.”

We exit the car, entering the large hospital building that stood in front of us walking up to the two desks that lie in the room. One of them is empty with a name tag that reads, ‘Dr. D. Feiklowicz.’ The other one however was occupied by a Morgue technician in blue scrubs, “Hey” the man greets us as we approach.

“Hey.” Dean answers back.

“Can I help you?” The technician asks, looking between the three of us.

“Yeah. We're the, uh...med students.” Dean lies.

“Sorry?” The man asks back.

“Oh, Doctor—�� Dean stammers over the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemarker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The tech informs us.

“Oh well he said, uh—“ Dean sighs, “—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.” He tells us, gesturing to the seats on the side of the room.

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” Dean looks at me and Sam as if queuing us to lie with him.

“Yeah.” Sam and I say at the same time, “Jinx” I mumble underneath my breath just loud enough for Sam to hear me who in return gives me a scrunched face.

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—“ Dena explains getting cut off by the man in scrubs, “Uh, look, man...no.”

Dean laughs a little. He turns around to face us, mumbling, “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

But I mean we can’t really blame the guy he’s just doing his job.

Sam hits his brother on the arm, taking a step in front of him he opens his wallet and pulls out some twenties. He lays a few of them, at least five, down on the desk. The Morgue Tech picks up the money, “Follow me.”

The technician gets up and leaves. I go to follow, seeing in the corner of my eye Dean grabbing Sam when he too tries to follow, forcing me to stop and go back a step to see what they are on about.

“Dude, I earned that money.” Dean complains.

“You won it in a poker game.” Sam clarifies.

“Yeah.” Dean answers.

Sam rolls his eyes, pulling away from his brother to follow the technician.

“You’ll make it back” I say, patting Dean on the back shortly to go follow the morgue man.

Dean stays back a half a second before following after us.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Sam said as the Morgue Tech pulled back the sheet over Steven’s face. Revealing a pale, long faced man with dark hair, blood stained on his cheeks below his eyes as if he had cried them.

“More than that. They practically liquefied.” The tech scuffs.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks him.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.” He answers.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam questioned.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.” He replied.

“You mean like cerebral bleeding?” I ask, wanting to clarify.

“Yeah. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.” He responded.

“The eyes & mash;what would cause something like that?” Sam asked.

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” The technician explains.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean scuffs.

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.” The tech shrugs.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.” Dean requests.

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” He answers, stretching out ‘that.’

Sam sighs clearly annoyed, as he pulls out his wallet.

Now leaving the hospital, walking down the stairs Sam suggests, “Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing.”

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean points out.

“Uh, almost never.” Sam answers.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, let's go talk to the daughter.” I announce”

We walk into Steven’s funeral, a picture of him on the desk.

All the men in the room are wearing black suits and the women adorned in black dresses, everyone except us. Dean points this very fact out, “Feel like we're underdressed.” I nod in agreement, my lips in a tight line, the guilt of interrupting these people’s mourning with not only us being undressed but also for not having a reasonable explanation of us being here.

But no one stops us as we keep walking through the house, all the way towards the back and outside to the backyard.

A man points us towards Donna and Lily Shoemarker, the daughters of the man we had seen on a metal table only moments before, who are standing near two people whom I can only assume is a friend or family member.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean greets the eldest daughter as we approach the group of people.

“Yeah.” She answers sadly brushing her short brunette hair out of her face.

“Hi, uh—we're really sorry.” Sam says.

“Thank you.” She replies, and I know she must have heard that same phrase of ‘i’m sorry’ and must have answered the same ‘thank you�� over and over to each person here. As if the death of her father hadn’t broken what’s inside her enough.

“I'm Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/N. We worked with your dad.” He explains.

She looks at one of the adults near her and then back at us, “You did?” And I feel bad for lying to her about this to give her a connection to her father that had never existed.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.” Dean goes on.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now” One of the men with her say, stepping in.

“It's okay. I'm okay.” Donna says, with a sharp nod.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asks, listing out various options.

“No.” She says simply.

Lily, the youngest daughter, turns around, “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

“Lily, don’t say that.” Donna snaps.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset.” Donna explains.

“No, it happened because of me.” Lily speaks up.

“Sweetie, it didn't.” Donna tries to convince.

“Oh Lily”, I say sadly crouching down to be closer to her eye level, “What makes you think that?” I knew what it felt like to blame yourself for someone else’s death, especially your parents, especially when it happens twice and you're too young to understand why this would happen to you. I feel the eyes of the people around me bore into me, especially from the brothers behind me.

“Right before he died, I said it.” Lily answers.

“Said what?” I ask her.

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” She explains, pausing, “She took his eyes, that's what she does.” My eyes go wide, not exactly expecting that answer.

“That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.” Donna reasons.

“I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?” Dean offers, giving the kid some logic to combat what she believes.

“No, I don't think so.” Lily answers. But I know it will take her years to really believe it wasn’t her fault, if ever.

Saying ‘bye’ to the grief rickened family we head back inside the house, but instead of truly leaving we sneak upstairs, approaching the bathroom.

Sam pushes the door open, dried blood stained to the white tiled floor, “The Bloody Mary legend...Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of.” Dean answers, him and I trailing in after Sam who stoops to the floor touching the dried blood, “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

I grimace, why would he touch the blood?

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.” Dean offers.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asks and we both shrug, Dean opening the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—“ Sam looks at the medicine cabinet mirror, it now facing him, he closes it before continuing, “The person who says you know what gets it. But here—“

“Mr.Shoemaker gets it instead” I finish his sentence.

“Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out.” Dean adds.

“It's worth checking in to.” Sam concludes, as we leave the bathroom.

“What are you doing up here?” A blonde woman stops us, the same woman who was comforting the daughters outside.

“We—we, had to go to the bathroom.” Dean lies, poorly, because it makes perfect sense for three people to be using a private bathroom all at once.

“Who are you?” She asks us, naturally not accepting the poorly down lie.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.” Dean confirms.

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.” She counters, and we should really start researching these people before we make up lies of how we know them.

Dean tries to cover, “No, I know, I meant—“

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” She tells us, leaving no more room for any nonsense.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.” Sam begins.

“Yeah, a stroke.” She answers.

“But it isn’t a typical sign of stroke, it might be something else.” I say softly, ashamed for suggesting such a thing to someone who has no knowledge of our world. These people are going through so much the last thing they need is some random people questioning what they know, I wouldn’t blame her if she did scream.

“Like what?” She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her.

Sam explains this time probably sensing my unease with all this, “Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.”

Dean tilts his head, “So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead.” My eyes widened, snapping to look at him, and suddenly that unease I felt vanished, replaced by a burning hot feeling that rushed through my veins and brought a flush to my face. I gulped, trying to push down the feeling a simple sentence that wasn’t even directed towards me made me feel. The cockiness it held as well as the allowance in his voice…it shouldn’t have affected me, and really shouldn’t have created a burning-longing in my gut.

“Who are you, cops?” The woman questions us, but my eyes haven’t left Dean as if he was light and I a moth.

I catch Sam and Dean looking at each other, speaking without words, in my peripheral vision. “Something like that” Dean answers.

It’s then that Dean must have felt my gaze on him, my lips slightly agape as I looked at him through my lashes. His attention turned to me as Sam continued the conversation that I had long blanked out of. Dean looked me over, eyes trailing over my very being, only worsening the burning I had felt within. His eyes met mine again giving me that devilish smirk of his, I swallowed again my eyes falling to his lips.

Sam clears his throat, nudging his brothers hard enough that he knocks into me slightly. Effectively catching our attention.

“Let’s go” He tells us, the woman still in front of us this time her attention to a small piece of white paper that I assume has some sort of contact information on it.

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—Like a local woman who died nasty.” Dean begins as we walk into the oddly dark library, the stale smell of cleaning products surrounding us.

“Yeah but Blood Mary is a widespread legend with tons of versions of who she actually is, with no clear answer. There’s the mutilated bride, a spirit conjured to tell the future, a witch, and a whole lot more” I answer.

“All right so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asks.

“Well in every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers—public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.” Sam adds, answering.

“Well that sounds annoying” Dean admits.

“No it won't be so bad, as long as we…” Sam trails off looking over to the table lined with computers all that say ‘Out of Order’, he chuckles “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

We quickly turned around, heading back to the motel we were staying at to do our research there. Dean sat leaning with his head on his hand on the small table in the room on his brother's laptop. The younger brother in question had fallen asleep on one of the beds, the rustling of the sheets giving away the fact he was tossing and turning. I however sat crisscrossed on the other bed Deans to be specific, not like he cared anyways, researching on my laptop trying to find any relevant info on a Mary in this town or deaths relating to mirrors.

“Why'd you let me fall asleep?” Sam suddenly speaks up, voice evident with sleep.

“Cause I'm an awesome brother” Dean scoffs, he’d never admit it was really because Sam hadn’t been able to sleep or at least sleep long for the last couple of weeks.

“And what’s your excuse Y/N?” Sam questions me, leaning on his side with one arm propped up.

“You were sleepy!” I admit simply, smiling at him. He rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“So what did you dream about?” Dean asks him, though what he was really asking was ‘did you have another nightmare?’

“Lollipops and candy canes.” He answers sarcastically. So sassy and for what?

“Yum” I reply, my eyes going back to my laptop.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks us.

“Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean huffs, making Sam sit up, “No. We’ve looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary.”

Sam falls back on the bed, the crisp sheets making a ‘whoosh’ noise beneath him, “Maybe we just haven't found it yet.”

“Thing is, there’s also been no strange deaths in the area, no other eyeball bleeding. Nothing. Which you know is good in hindsight but not quite helpful for us.” I explain.

Dean adds on, “Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary.”

Almost as if on cue Sam’s phone rings, he answers, still laying down. “Hello?”

Charlie, the blonde woman who questioned us before, sat on the park bench slightly hunched. I sat next to her to offer some comfort, while Dean sat on the back on the bench, his leg nearly brushing my back.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone.” Charlie nearly sobbed, having explained everything that happened with her friend Jill.

Jill, who had wanted to tease the blonde women about believing in such a legend, saying the name in the mirror and winding up dead. Her death being in the same manner as Mr. Shoemaker.

“I'm sorry.” Sam answered, eyebrows scrunched together.

“And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?” She whimpered, using the back of her hands to clear the wetness from her cheeks.

“You aren’t insane” I tell her clearly.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse.” She whines and I try to not let it hurt me, because she's griefing, even though it does.

“Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained” Sam explains. Dean adding, “And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help.”

Dean lifts me up again, this time to reach an elevated first floor window rather than a fence. His hands sliding from tight around my hips, to brushing down my thighs as he lifts me in reach of the window sill. The window wasn’t that high to reach in the first place but with my height, amidtely being shorter than both the boys, it wasn’t exactly comfortable or super easy to reach the window and pull myself up and in.

My hands grasp the cold white window sill, my rings clinking against the surface as I pull my body up. I swiftly slide my hips sideways making my butt land on the sill, in the same sort of movements you would use when you lift yourself out of a pool.

I move my legs inside the carpeted room, ducking slightly as to not hit my head on the open window. The room belonged to Jill, and as my feet hit the soft gray carpet I officially feel the disgust of intrusion creep up on me.

I slide off the windowsill moving into the room more, Sam quickly taking my place near the window to pick up the duffle Dean threw up at him. He catches it, putting it on the bed and immediately digging through it.

“So what did you tell Jill’s mom?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, the uncomfortability of being in someone’s bedroom let alone a dead girls bedroom crawling up my skin and in my bones.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things.” Charlie answers looking between us and the door nervously. Dean climbs through the window shutting the curtain behind and Sam pulls something out of the bag. “I hate lying to her” Charlie adds.

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights” Dean orders.

She goes over to the lights, “”What are you guys looking for?

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it.” Dean hums.

Sam hands him a camcorder on and ready, the object he got from the duffel, “Hey, night vision.” He recalls prompting the older brother to do so, his face scrunched with focus as he finds the button.

“Perfect.” Sam smiles.

The little screen of the camcorder is facing Dean, in a ‘selfie’ like mode, “Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He smiles.

I laugh, slapping a hand to his upper arm on instinct, “Sure you do, baby” I joke, the pet name not something I ever use slipping from my tongue before I could realize. His head turns to give me an amused and smug smirk. In his distractment Sam takes the camera back, going over to the closet door filming around the mirror.

“So I don't get it. I mean...the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?” Sam asks out loud.

“Beats me.” Dean answers, focusing back on the situation at hand. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie reasons.

“Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.” Dean replies.

Sam wandered into the bathroom now, looking at the mirror there. “Hey!” He calls out, getting us to turn and look at him. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

Dean immediately went off to go get it coming back rather swiftly, just as Sam placed the mirror on Jill’s bed laying it upside down after having carried it from the bathroom. With the black light now in hand, he peels off the brown paper that’s on the back of the mirror, shining the purple light on its back revealing a handprint and the name ‘Gary Bryman.’

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie reads out loud both as an acknowledgment and also a question.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask her.

“No.” She answers simply.

Back on the bench, in nearly the same positions, Sam recalls his findings. “So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

“Oh my God.” Charlie gasps, horror in her eyes as she covers her mouth.

“What?” I ask the question we’re all thinking.

“Jill drove that car” She answers. Without looking for confirmation I know the boy's eyes are wide too, but there’s no room for the talking that comes after shock.

“We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.

Somehow, with the help of Charlie, we convinced our way into Donna’s house back up to the bathroom we were in only hours before.

Hunched over the mirror with the black light, our suspicions were correct. There’s a handprint, one I have to say looks like the one in Jill’s bathroom, but I'm no criminologist. This time the name ‘Linda Shoemaker’ is written on it.

We all look at each other, knowing it’s likely that Steven killed his wife hence why Bloody Mary went for him and not the young girl who chanted her name. But the only way to have any idea of this theory is correct is to ask the brunette teenager downstairs.

“Why are you asking me this?” Donna asks us.

“I’m really sorry, Donna, but this is important.” I try to explain, but I know it won’t make sense to her. I mean we are total strangers asking her uncomfortable questions about her dead mother.

“Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it.” She fumes, eyebrows scrunched together in fury, “I think you should leave.”

“Now Donna, just listen.” Dean reaches a hand up, as if to motion ‘calm down.’ But it doesn't work. Teary eyed and a little red in the face she yells, “Get out of my house!” Swiftly she runs up the stairs, not giving us another option.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie asks, finally picking up on our theory.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs.

“I think I should stick around” Charlie announces, referring to staying with Donna, which is probably a good idea.

“All right. Whatever you do, don't—“ Dean tries to warn getting cut off, “Believe me, I won't say it.”

The crisp smell of old books and, oddly, cinnamon fill my nose as I take a deep breath, flexing my hand as I work out the cramping from writing a little too intensely in my small journal.

Dean sits next to me on the cold metal chairs in the library we decided to research in (different to the original one we were at), he’s typing away on the clunky computer the library has. Sam’s staring off at a bulletin board behind us with all sorts of things on it.

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” He asks Dean, alerting us of him coming back to his seat on the other side of his brother.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.” Dean answers.

“But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town.” Sam points out.

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—“ Dean explains and as much as I love him I cut him off.

“Well, Mary’s victims have a pattern, which I know you guys already know so I'll just cut to the good part. Both victims had secrets relating to where people died and, here’s the good part, there’s a lot of folklore on mirrors, specifically that mirrors are a reflection of your soul. And with that your secrets and lies are revealed to the mirror.

Fun Fact! It was the Romans who believed that the soul would regenerate every seven years, so if you broke a mirror then you’d have to wait seven years until your soul was cleansed of the bad luck and misfortune.

And while I have more fun facts about mirrors I will end it there.” I smiled, satisfied with my information vomit as well as my fun fact because fun facts are wonderful.

Both boys look at me strangely, a mix of confusion and what I think is amazement (they should be amazed cause that was a really great fun fact). Dean seems to shake it off, “Right. So if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.”

Sam adding, “Whether you're the one that summoned her or not.”

“Correcto!” I answer, and by correct I mean that’s what I was thinking for our working theory.

“Then take a look at this.” Dean announces, clicking a few buttons on the computer before leaning over to the nearby printer, pulling out and handing us the paper. It’s a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. He prints out another picture, this time of a handprint and the letters “Tre.”

“Looks like the same handprint.” Sam points out and I nod in agreement.

“Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

“I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me.” The detective states, unfortunately I immediately forgot his name. It's not the nicest thing to happen but I was also really focused on his country accent that’s just a little too funny.

“What exactly happened?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You boys and girl said you were reporters?” Mr. Detective questioned.

“We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife.” Sam recalls the gruesome story.

“That's right.” He confirms.

“See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened.” Sam clarifies for him, somewhere between a curious and condescending tone.

Mr. Detective eyes us over as if he’s contemplating something. He spins his wheely chair around swiftly getting up and going to a large file cabinet. “Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this” He huffs, pulling out a file and then a picture, the same picture Dean had already found on the computer. “Now see that there? T-R-E?” Detective reads out, even though unbeknownst to him it’s old news to us.

“Yeah” Dean answers.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.” He theorizes.

“Do you know who it was, or any theories?” I ask, trying to get any sort of new answers.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon-Trevor Sampson.” He pulls out another photo, this time of this Trevor guy, he has an oval face with curly short hair definitely on the darker side but I can’t say exactly what color due to the black and white photo. He’s also wearing some sunglasses.

“And I think he cut her up good.” He finishes, his accent thick.

“Why do you think it’s him?” I question further.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, ‘T’. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell ‘T’'s wife about their affair.” He answers, and for a detective that truly means nothing.

“No offense but how does that directly correlate to Sampson… I mean there’s other people with the initial ‘T’ right?” I question him again, hoping it doesn't offend the man.

“It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional.” He explains.

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asks, chiming in.

“No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.” Mr. Detective nods.

“Is he still alive?” Dean follows up.

“Nope.” He sighs, sitting down. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could.”

“Where's she buried?” Sam asks this time.

“She wasn't. She was cremated” He answers. No digging up bodies for us today.

“What about that mirror”, Dean nods towards the one in the photo, “It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?”

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.” He explains, leaning back in his chair.

“You have the names of her family by any chance?”

We drive down the roads, the sun setting behind us. Sam’s call dictates where we go, either to whatever location he gives us or back to the motel.

“Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks.” Sam hangs up, pocketing his phone.

“So?” Dean asks.

“So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.” Sam stated.

“So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” Dean raises.

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.” Sam simply puts it.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asks.

“Yeah! People would cover up the mirror when someone died so that their spirit/ soul wouldn’t get trapped.” I explain, happy to spew some more of my fun facts.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit” Dean works through the facts.

“Yes! But I don’t know how she’s working through various mirrors” I admit.

“I don't know either, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.” Dean proposes.

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe.” Sam gets cut off by his own phone, “ Hello.” A look of concern washes over his face, becoming pale “Charlie?”

The motel room is colder, the rain outside causing that meek fact. Charlie’s sitting on Sam’s bed, her head on her knees, after we picked her up from school all terrified. All the curtains are drawn shut, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces are covered with sheets or turned aquas towards a wall or the floor there will be no bloody mary getting in here.

Sam sits next to Charlie, “Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?” She looks up reluctantly and slowly, “Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Her voice wobbled, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

“No. No. Not anytime soon.” Sam comforts, but I don’t think it helps.

Dean sits on the bed too, “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it.” She answers simply, rocking herself slightly.

“That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?” Dean pushes.

She looks around uncomfortably, swallowing she begins, “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?” She looks over at me for confirmation knowing without any previous conversation about it that I would understand. And she was right. It was as if bad boyfriends were sewed into the fabrics of being a woman, it would be a little strange if you hadn’t had one.

I nod and she continues, “And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She cries harder, going back to her previous position.

I move towards her, Sam getting up to allow me to sit close to her. I hug her, holding her close despite her awkward position. “That’s not your fault” I told her simply, and I meant it too. She uncurls herself, quickly wrapping her arms around me and stuffing her face into my neck. I hold her tighter. “You did the right thing, leaving him” I mutter.

Dean huffs, gripping the steering wheel slightly tighter, “You were right back there Y/N, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.”

“You guys should know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary.” Sam reasons.

“I guess” Dean sighs.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.” Sam suggests.

“Oh, what do you mean?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.” Sam explains.

“Well how do you know that's going to work?” Dean questions.

“I don't, not for sure.” Sam shrugs.

“Well who's gonna summon her?” Dean follows up.

“I will. She'll come after me.” Sam states as if it’s the most obvious answer and with no care for himself.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean nearly shouts, pulling the car over quickly and roughly making my body shift nearly knocking into the door.

“This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you.” Dean fumes, not quite yelling but also not quite talking.

“Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam answers plainly, almost in defeat

“Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done.” Dean adds.

“I could've warned her.” Sam sighs, and the pain in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Sam…you couldn’t have known that would happen.” I chime in, though it doesn't quite feel like my place.

“And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway.” Dean exclaims.

“No you don't.” Sam states, no further explanation given.

“I don't what?” Dean asks.

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.” Sam shrugs.

“What are you talking about?” Dean questions, face full of confusion.

“Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” He replied sassily.

Dean looks surprised, “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.” But Sam doesn't get any answers, with a roll of his eyes Dean drives off. Conversation over.

Sam is trying to pick the lock on the shop's door, somehow without any word he became the designated lock picker. The dark oak door opens and all around the store are mirrors, mirrors of all shapes and sizes and varieties. Truly the worst place to be in this situation.

“Well...that's just great, '' Dean sighs, pulling out the photo of Mary’s corpse to look at the mirror, the one we’re looking for being a wooden frame. Not very helpful considering our location where there are countless mirrors that look exactly the same. “All right let's start looking.”

I nod in agreement handing both boys their crowbars. I shifted my baseball bat in my hand, there wasn’t a third crowbar and there was no reason for it anyways, a baseball bat is just as good at smashing.

We enter the dark store, flashlights on, splitting up we look for our specific mirror.

“Maybe they've already sold it.” Dean suggests, from some part of the store.

“I don't think so.” Sam says, stopping in his tracks. Dean and I walk over on either side of the taller man, Dean pulls out the picture again comparing the two. It’s our mirror.

“That's it.” Dean sighs, “You sure about this?”

Sam hands over his flashlight and sighs, “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He looks between the both of us, “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines through the store windows, illuminating the room.

“I'll go check that out. You guys stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves.” Dean shuffles away.

I grip my bat tighter as a breath that isn’t mine nor Sam’s surrounds us. He turns around quickly but I keep my back towards him, “Nothing?” I ask and he hums in confirmation.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mary in one of the mirrors, I step forward swinging my bat back and then forward hard. The glass shatters falling to the floor around my feet. Then Sam hits a mirror behind me, before swiftly turning back to her mirror.

“Come on. Come into this one.” He mutters underneath his breath.

He tilts his head watching his regeneration weirdly when suddenly he starts breathing heavily grabbing at his chest.

“Sam!” I shout, grabbing his arm. His eyes begin to bleed, blood trickling down his cheeks. He drops his crowbar, the metal clinking against the floor loudly.

“It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica.” A voice rings out, one that sounds like Sam’s though I know it’s not him speaking. I help him to the floor carefully as he grabs his chest harder.

“You never told her the truth—who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it?” The voice fumes.

I get up leaving Sam to the floor, “That’s enough of you” I mutter, gripping my baseball bat tight. I hit her mirror, the glass shatters around me.

I hear Sam take a deep breath in, when I look down at him he’s no longer holding his chest. He holds a thumb up to me, weakly.

But for some reason the voice didn’t stop, Mary was no longer hurting Sam but her accusations wouldn’t stop.

“Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—You had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!”

I smash three more mirrors, anything to get it to stop by it doesn't.

“SAM, SAMMY!” Dean shouts, rushing into the room and crouching down to his brother.

“It's Sam” He answers meekly.

Dean holds onto his brother's face gently, eyeing his face and the blood on it, “God, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam replies, a little unsure though considering the circumstances I get it.

“Come on, come on.” He pulls Sam up, bringing his arm around his neck with a nod of his head towards the door. I follow the boys towards the exit.

A sudden crunching noise forces us to turn around. Mary crawls out of the frame of her mirror, her long black hair covering her face, she walks over the broken glass with no care, her head tilting to the side as she crawls towards us. Her dark nearly black eyes bore into us, somehow she forces us to the floor.

My chest feels tight as if someone was squeezing my heart, I try to crawl backwards on my hands like a crab walk when a sharp pain surges through my hand followed by my eyes. I bring my hand in front of me, a large slash runs through my palm, a piece of glass sticking out of it. The ache in my eyes I know is not caused by glass but by Mary, I reach my gold hand up to my cheek blood trickling down my face. I suck in a breath, the pain not helping the already pain I was feeling. I look over to the boys on the left of me nearly on top of each other as blood runs down both their cheeks.

Mary stands approaching us with a head tilt and a limp. I grumble holding up a shaky hand, waving my hand once, slowly, making long mirrors form in a line in front of Mary acting as a wall between us.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” A female voice cried out, Mary’s voice.

She looks at her reflections scared, when she begins to choke. She grabs on to her throat and her chest, crumbling down to the ground she shrieks, turning to a puddle of blood

With another wave of my hand the wall of mirrors shatters, glass falling to the floor loudly.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I hum feeling a little defeated.

“This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?” He asks me and I can’t help the big smile that falls on my face.

“Mmm I can’t wait” I laugh, the sarcastic comment coming to me with ease.

The sun rises in front of us, gleaming on the Impala. Our faves are cleaned up, ridden of blood and the event that unfolded. The only proof of it happening being my hand that’s carefully wrapped in white gauze, the glass now out and the cut cleaned.

Charlie sits next to me in the back seat as we pull up to her house, it's odd having someone else back here with me.

“So this is really over?” She asks us, her eyes puffy from her night of crying.

Dean looks at her through the rearview mirror, nodding, “Yeah, it's over.”

“Thank you.” She says, Dean reaching back to shake her hand. She turns to me next, arms open in a hug. I close the gap between us and give her a good squeeze.

She smiles a little sadly at me, getting out of the car.

“Charlie?” Sam calls out, stopping the woman in her tracks. She turns around, “Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

She smiles faintly, turning back around to go into her house.

Dean hits his brother's arm gently, “That's good advice.”

We drive off the car falling silent for a beat before Dean talks again, “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” He answers.

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.” Dean tells him, looking between him and the road.

“Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” He admits with a sigh, looking out the window.

The car falls silent again.

Healing isn’t easy. It's not something you can put a bandaid on and expect to be fine, and maybe all that Sam shared will be enough for now but that’s not something we can gauge.

That is times doing, and time isn’t something we can control.

God knows i’ve tried.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural #john winchester #slow burn #witch #witch reader #witch craft #sunshine x grumpy #romance #fantasy #bloody mary #urban legends #mystery #mirror #fun facts #the hunter and the witch

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mar3ggiata · 5 months ago

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professional help, c28. On a leash.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mentions of death, depression, eating disorders.

song to listen to when reading this: Movement, Hozier.

abstract: Judy here, I really don't know what my life is about, I'm working in autopilot. Something is clearly wrong but I haven't figured it out yet… which is weird cause I always figure out everything before everyone else. I feel fucking ill.

'Praticamente niente, ho un nuovo lavoro.' Alba propped her phone against a cereal box and stood in the frame. Salvo's expression, on her phone, turned from confusion to excitement, his big black eyes looking at her in shock. 'Ma che cazzo…' She laughed and sat down on one of the stools. She had her wet hair up in with towel, a oversized jumper on. She got an email that morning from Laswell, said that since she did so well on her last mission she could help out once more. In reality, and she didn't know this, they were calling her just to keep an eye on her, Shepherd's orders. Keep the girl under observation, he had said. It wasn’t because she was good, poor thing. It was because they were scared. The job description was exactly how you would expect it, non existent. She would get briefed that night. Laswell had other things to attend and couldn't really follow smaller missions that were all organised by Price. She told Salvo the news. She told him she was happy, it was basically a promotion without a pay raise, but she liked it anyway. She craved that validation, the fact that she was getting praised by her boss and having more to do than her usual sessions was going to keep her busy and distract her from nightmares and paranoia.

She asked Salvo to remind her what time he was flying to the airport, since she was supposed to pick him up. He would stay at her place for a few nights, and then go back to base. Just to catch up and spend more time together. She sat in group therapy at the edge of her seat, she was eager to get out and go to the meeting with Price, to know what she needed to do, what her tasks were going to be. There were three people in the room with her, she usually had larger groups but many were still deployed or at home to their families. 'And how are you doing with your meds Andy?' She had her notebook on her lap, she put a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Do you remember what I was saying a few weeks ago about panic, about using your senses to ground yourself?' It was almost scary how she liked helping people, and how she never took her own advice. She had a long healing journey from her past, when she was in university she took therapy extremely seriously, since her brain blocked out memories and chunks of her past from bothering her and tormenting her in her day-to-day life. After the attack last year, after Arash… She really wasn't the best to give advice, she was just going with what theories and literature had to offer her. Fix everybody and let yourself rot in bed for weeks. 'It might be useful to focus your attention to something you can see like the cars out of the window, something you can hear…' She gently stretched to her right with her hand open, 'Something you can feel like my hand on your arm, or the chair beneath you…' She gently gave Sargent Alison a pat on the arm. She had time for a smoke break after the session ended, that's where she found the Lieutenant.

He stood alone with his mask raised on his nose, cigarette in his right hand. He wore black, she thought he looked even taller today, taller and bigger. Handsome. He offered his lighter without her even having to ask. He acted like he knew her forever. 'I heard you'll be joining us again.'

'Just make sure you don't say my name again this time, you're gonna get me killed.'

His blood went cold for a second, heat rushing to his masked face. He had thought about what he did constantly after New Years. Even when he was with her on that bench, walking down the street with Jinx or choosing what to eat, he looked at her and thought about her being dead. He thought about her under the desk, at the ballet school, pale and terrified. He ate with her, payed for dinner, told her to get whatever dessert she liked. He held her dog on a leash for her. Her shoulder brushed his arm countless times while they squeezed in the crowd to get to the bench. He almost killed her. He cursed her for joking about it, you’re too young to understand. She was smoking in silence beside him, looking at the sun setting, painting the deserted street pink and gold. He was done with his cigarette, he debated waiting for her. Entering the briefing room together would have looked extremely suspicious. No one knew what he had been doing, no one knew he knew her. He thought Johnny was suspicious for sure, cause he noticed he had been going out a few times alone. But no one could ever imagine he ate dinner at her house, walked with her, talked to her. He hugged her (she chose him). No one knew he knew stuff about her, like her tattoos, that she liked to cook, that she broke her right arm as a kid. No one knew she knew him, that was the scary part. She knew where he was from, where he got deployed, that be enjoyed working in Bulgaria, she knew he didn’t like hostage situations. She knew he was allergic to stupid fucking strawberries… No one could even imagine she had anything to do with him, someone like him.

He snapped back to reality when he felt her pull his jacket. She looked like a child pulling on his sleeve. He looked at her and realised she wanted him to take a step back and take cover from the light rain. She quickly let go of the fabric, he did as she wished and pressed his back to the wall so he wouldn’t get soaked. She was considerate. She was observant. They smoked in silence, he was done before her, he waited for her to finish. He was getting extremely nervous. She seemed to be relaxed, a bit tired even. ‘What’s the mission?’ she asked, they were walking inside, side by side. His boots heavy on the ground in sync with the clicking of her shiny shoes. Her coat was flowing behind her like a super villain cape. ‘Serbia’, he answered, they stepped in the meeting room.

Walking with him made her comfortable and confident. They stepped inside the room together, her in front of him, they gained a couple of weird looks. Even Price noticed. As if he didn’t already suspect that something was going on, and nothing was going on they were literally just colleagues. They happened to be in the corridor at the same time, no big deal. He felt like everyone could hear his thoughts or read his mind. He felt violated, like everyone knew how often he thought about her, and in which situations. He felt terrified at the thought everyone in the room had the right to think about her as well. He didn’t sit next to her, she chose her spot next to the wall, she didn’t seem to mind that he was no longer beside her. She noticed the room counted less soldiers, compared to the Al-Jareena mission. She saw Kyle, Scotland, the guy that mocked her in the past mission. She recognised his face. With the captain, the room counted six people. Price started speaking without even acknowledging her, or the others for that matter. He explained the situation in Serbia was getting out of hand again, but not enough to get deployed there. This time, they were waiting, this time violence wasn't exactly the answer. With a look around the room she quickly understood that she was the only one unaware of what the situation in Serbia was…

Her confused look gained Price's attention, so he made the effort to explain. 'We've been following some criminal gangs in Serbia, they occupy a neighbourhood close to the Romanian border. It was just stealing and drugs at the beginning, it's getting larger now. It's nothing major still, but they seem a rather strong group.' She nodded. The captain turned the small tv in the room on, two faces popped up. Two men. 'This is Smith and Madison, you remember them. They infiltrated the group nearly four months ago. They're reporting some changes in the diplomacy in the group, they're beginning to work with external parties…'

'What do you mean, they're expanding?' someone asked, she didn't turn to look.

'They are. They have arms, they have men, no one really knows who they are, they haven't been arrested yet, they're maybe getting paid to serve as mercenary.'

'By who?' she was the one to speak now, eyes still glued on the screen.

Price gave her a look, before revealing they suspected other terrorist groups to be in contact with them. Jude tried to hide her extremely confused expression, while everyone felt like Price’s speech was totally making sense. 'Jude, we would need you to… listen.' She felt her heart drop at him personally addressing her. 'Beg your pardon?' She whispered. He took a step towards her 'We have a team of two people who listen to the group's conversation basically all day, since Smith and Madison were finally able to plant covert listening devices around their bases. You would be listening, writing and reporting any details you think are important.' She kept looking at him without making a sound. Why don't they do it? Why me? She was about to answer when he started talking again. 'You're Croatian on your mother's side, Serbian is a variety of the Serbo-Croatian language, they even switch to English at times'.

Fucked. She was fucked. She looked at the captain petrified, he knew she wasn't really Croatian for Christ's sake! That's not true I'm not fucking Croatian, you dick! And he knows it. It's part of the fake story, you idiot. 'Correct me if I'm wrong… I'm supposed to sit and listen and take notes? You know I don't know Croatian that well, let alone Serbian…' She hated him for putting her in that position. She felt her face burn up, her ears turning red. I’m not doing it. ‘Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult. Serbian language has three genders, they have neuter as well. They have grammatical cases, nominative, dative, accusative… you studied Latin didn’t you?’ Her face dropped in an even more shocked expression. She did, in fact, study Latin. Ten years ago. ‘I’m sorry, you have two people working on this, what do you need me for?’ She spoke again, hoping no one in the room could sense the panic in her voice. Simon could. He was tense as well, basing off her body language, which he observed from his seat, she wasn’t comfortable at all. Why wasn’t she, he thought she was all proud and confident to work with them. What is happening to you, sweet thing? ‘Because we trust you, Jude.’ The captain assured. You don’t, she thought. ‘Laswell trusts you, she likes the way you work, she feels like she has control over these type of situation if you’re working as well. Plus, the workload is significant…' She felt flattered, don’t get me wrong. But no, something was up. She had a job already, she didn’t know Serbian. She didn’t know the alphabet, she didn’t know the vocabulary. It was absurd, her mom wasn’t fucking Croatian and Price knew. Laswell knew! Laswell was the one who helped with the fake identity thing! They were up to something.

She let out a sight, ‘Will I get compensated?’ She was back, Simon saw her. He saw right through her, he saw her change. He saw the way her eyes looked dark, fierce. She fixed her posture, she looked at the captain through her eyebrows. She was Jude again, Alba was gone. ‘Compensated?’ The captain asked, he made a mistake. She quickly followed. 'I already have a job. I’ll have to learn the alphabet, captain. You’ll need to get me a dictionary. And you said you have two people that are working right now every day practically all day, with me I count…’ she pretended to think about it, ‘eight hours of listening and writing each day?’ Silence. Simon had to repress a smile. 'I guess… yes, no you're right.' She sat back in her seat, shocked that he thought she wasn't gonna ask to get paid.

She quickly realised what mess she had gotten herself into. The men in the room kept talking about the gangs situation, their next steps and when they were going to intervene. She spaced out, thinking about what actually meant to have agreed to something like that. She had work, she had ballet… When was she gonna have time to do this? And, again, she didn't know Serbian! She felt a wave of anxiety wash over her when the captain handed her the two other workers' schedule. She was still looking at the working hours, walking towards the exit when she felt an hand on her shoulder. Her mind went to Simon. It went to Simon immediately to be exact, she thought that she was going to raise her eyes and see him, he would ask her if she was fine with all probability. She felt like she could rant to him and tell him the truth, it was too much to ask her, she felt incredibly lost and insecure… It wasn't Simon.

'You keep surprising me, really. You'll be our official translator!'

She let out a chuckle while Kyle practically escorted her out of the room.

It wasn't Simon.

notes: i am uploading from my hotel in turkey lol.

notes: i inspire my missions to real life history facts, and I think you can kinda see which wars and historical events this is inspired from. if you can't, it means I did a good job hiding it. I want to remind you everything I write is fictional, if I'm taking inspiration is simply from historical facts that are common knowledge. I'm going to refer to Italy and set the story in Italy soon, so I will be talking about war and crime in my own country. still, it will be all from my imagination. bye. I love you.

taglist:

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

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hyperfixation-symposium · 1 year ago

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I'm a q!Bad defender to my soul, and I want to talk about why I am frustrated with a lot of the (characters) responses to his current lore!!!

I am not talking about the cc!s only the characters!! I don't think anyone intentionally broke into his lore or broken anything lorewise this is just about the characters!

Bad has been on a downwards spiral for a while now, and it has been clear to everyone in his life. However, so few people have acted in this need to help him, and now, they seem shocked that he didn't get better! And that he got worse!

Instead of channeling anything into helping him, they're only pushing him farther away.

When the vacation arc started, it didn't seem to take long for people to realize it was less of a vacation and more a way to excuse his more unhealthy behaviors he was indulging in. However, instead of reaching out, the people in his life told him he needed help, but didn't offer any. They told him he should take a break, but still pushed their responsibilities and expectations on him.

They watched as he got worse, all insisting it was fine with a smile on. But you know who knew, who understood, who tried to do the most for him?

The eggs.

Bad's kids, as well as the other eggs, love their tio Bad. Tio Bad visiting is like Christmas, but for the best armour and supplies. Tio Bad visiting is comfort and dedication, it's safety.

The eggs knew the most about how much he was suffering, and took the most action to help. Because they could tell he wouldn't push anyone to act for him. They were grounding but also incredibly supportive.

Bad could argue about politics with Forever, he could fight and get no credit, he could leave gifts unrecognized and never repaid, all was okay if he had his kids.

Then the furniture gets stolen.

Everyone was quick to jump on him. In a moment all the work he had ever done didn't seem to matter. He was imprisoned unfairly, questioned, hell the way he ran from the place you could tell it bothered him. And he only got 1 apology from Cellbit for that damned day.

It seemed as if everything he did disappeared into the background of Bad taking a (frankly, easy to get) resource. It wasn't right of him to do, but all the sudden he was evil for it. He didn't even do it this time.

If there was one easy thing to push his mistrust of others over the edge, it was that. But it was okay, because he still had his family.

And then the eggs disappeared.

Bad was already low. He had dealt with everything Dapper was hiding from him, Pomme admitting she wasn't well either, but they could get through it together. Family.

And then they were gone. Without a trace, without an indication of where they might have gone.

And everyone goes a bit insane. Forever, one of Bad's closest and most trusted friends, ends up on Cucurucho meds, and then in a coma. While trying to help him, trying to keep the other parents spirits up, no one is doing the same for him. He's alone in his house, talking to a statue of his best friend. Never so far away.

And then finally, when everything is falling apart, he accepts who he is. A demon, an ancient creature capable of terrible things, and a father. A father who will do anything for his children.

Including hurting an innocent.

And now, as people are finding out about this, they're getting upset at him. How could he, reach such a low! But they're not recognizing that they never helped him. They never refused to let him go until he got proper help, hell, the room Forever made for him was so so late in Bad's cry for help. Which is not to minimize it, hell, Bad himself said it was the first time in a long time that it felt like everything was going to be okay. It was the first time he didn't antagonize Ron openly, even gave him gifts. And I feel like that's a show of just how much Bad needed someone, anyone, to be the person he was for them to him.

And now he could loose all of that again.

It all feels like it was doomed to fall. When a person who gives others their everything never gets anything in return, what happens when they run out of things to give? When everything they worked for is gone?

Maybe move away. Where no one can find you. Take whatever is left and go.

Bad's family is shattered. Bad is shattered.

And while I don't blame anyone for being upset at him, I wish it was recognized how much they didn't help him before, how much effort they put towards their own things disregarding him in a way he never did them.

The one major expection?

q!Foolish.

In this essay I will shot for talking too much

Anyways. No proof reading we die like Juanaflippa! Ofc this is all roleplay and Bad's cries for help could be put off or overlooked for many reasons and I don't blame the CC!s for anything I love all the characters. Back to real life I go

#qsmp #q!badboyhalo #q!bad #character analysis #qsmp character analysis #just. ive got him on the brain #my cubito deserves better

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arsenic-catnep · 10 months ago

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Don't Wanna Hurt No More Chapter 2: My Baby Don't Cry

1.2k words

Summary: Dean patches Sam up and struggles with his inner turmoil.

TW: wincest, child abuse mention, blood, wounds, blood consumption

Chapter 1

Also on my AO3

By the time Sam was out of tears, the sun had already peaked above the treeline. It took nothing but a gentle tug for Dean to lift Sam into his arms.

Sammy buried his face into his big brother's neck and wrapped his arms and legs around him like a small child. He sniffled and clenched his jaw. Sam hated how small and fragile he felt, he's been especially avoidant of looking weak around Dean; budding puberty will do that to a boy.

If he could, Dean would let Sam crawl into his skin and live there. To keep him safe. To keep him forever. He'd let Sam do a lot of things now that he thinks about it.

Dean carried Sam to the bathroom and set him on the counter. His fingers gently rubbed over the welts already forming from the belt lashes. He suppressed the growing anger in his stomach, it wouldn't do any good now.

The tap squeaked as Dean turned it on, letting the cold water run before digging in the drawer for a washcloth and the first aid kit. Sammy stared down at his big brother, a feeling of resentment slowly coiling in him.

He understood why Dean didn't step in. Why he never does. It's getting worse though, John is leaving more than just bruises on Sam, blood is being drawn every other beating. How long before John hurts him so bad that Dean won't be able to patch him up with a gas station med kit?

Dean doesn't want to think about that. It made him want to peel his skin off.

A small whimper left Sam's lips as Dean helped him pull his shirt off. His fingers hooked below the hem and his knuckles dragged along Sam's ribs. Goosebumps rippled over the younger boy's skin. Dean has patched him up dozens of times before, he's no stranger to Sam's skin; He's no stranger to touching Sam. Yet right now, both of them feel a sort of static between them.

It's new. They both swallow the feeling.

Long, red welts covered Sam's back and shoulders. A few had busted open and bled, rivulets smeared down to his ribs from where his shirt had rubbed them. Sammy was already in the early stages of puberty, he still had that layer of baby fat over his torso but Dean is sure that by the end of this year's summer Sam will be more akin to a newborn fawn. All limbs and awkward movements.

Sam flinched when Dean pressed a cool, wet cloth to his burning skin. He grit his teeth and tried to power through the pain, just as he'd seen Dean do.

There was once a time when it was Dean in Sam's position, and little Sammy would watch as he patched himself up. He remembers the first time Dean had to stitch his own wound. John had thrown a bottle at the wall, and when he pushed Dean to the ground it sliced into his arm.

There was so much blood and John refused to fix it himself. Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching Dean use a sewing needle and fishing line to close the gash. It was messy and not at all how a stitch should be done; like how their family was.

Dean still has the scar.

The rough threads of the cloth dragged on his skin and the way Sam tensed up as he gripped the edge of the sink didn't escape Dean. It made his mouth dry with the sense that this isn't how a 12 year old should live. Hell, it's not how anyone should live.

“S’ not too bad.” Dean mumbled as he rubbed the last of the neosporin onto Sammy's back.

A deep sigh rattled Sam's lungs. A sigh that no child should ever have to know the weight of. “You always say that.”

“I know… but it could be. I mean he could be selling us to perverts.” Dean offered his signature smirk, an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Don't give him ideas.” Sam scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile.

The smile was gone as fast as it had come and Sam hopped off the counter then grabbed his shirt off the floor. “I'm gonna lay down.”

“Want me to lay with you?” Dean reached out gently, holding Sam's arms just below the bandaged wounds.

They usually laid together after an especially bad argument, sometimes holding each other, most times just facing each other. Dean would take advantage of the situation and commit every detail of Sam's sleeping face to memory.

Sammy's eyes filled with an emotion that Dean couldn't figure out. He'd never seen that look on his brother's face, and it worried him. All too soon however, Sam was pulling away and brushing past him.

“No, s'okay. I'm not a kid anymore.” If there was a hint of what his eyes conveyed in his voice, Dean didn't catch it.

Sam was right, though. He wasn't a little kid anymore, he was turning 13 in a week. This reminder made Dean want to hold Sam and never let go. He didn't want his baby brother to grow up, he wanted him to be his forever.

He'd often roll a ridiculous thought around in his head: Find a potion to mix into Sammy's lotion so he'll stay my baby forever.

Dean would never do that, at least that's what he tells himself. Besides, he's sure a spell like that doesn't exist without horrific consequences. Plus, what's Sammy going to do when Dean gets old and dies? He needs his big brother to take care of him.

The tap squeaked again as Dean twisted the rusting handle. He tried to distract himself with putting the first aid kit back together and cleaning up the bathroom; Something he'd never normally bother with, but he doesn't want to see the empty spot in the bed next to Sam.

Dean squeezed the water from the bloody washcloth and watched the murky water swirl down the drain. He stared at the stained rag, like it'd give him an answer or some kind of comfort.

Before he even registered what he was doing, Dean was lifting the cloth to his mouth and licking at the bloodstain. The faint flavor of copper, rubbing alcohol and leftover laundry detergent permeated his taste buds. Somehow, under it all, he could taste something that was distinctly ‘Sam’

He could just be imagining things. It could be a placebo effect, spurred on by his love and longing for his baby brother. It could also just be that he knows Sam so well he could identify him by taste.

Dean pulled the rag from his mouth after sucking it dry. A wave of shame rolled over his body like ice water.

‘Who the fuck does this?’ he berated himself in his head. ‘You're acting like a fucking serial killer. Pack it up Dahmer.’

The rag was quickly discarded into the pile of towels on the floor, and Dean tried to shake his strange feeling along with it. Dean had always felt protective over Sam. It was his job, the one thing their dad always hammered into his head.

‘Take care of Sammy.’ Dean could hear John's voice in his head like a mantra. He thought it was ridiculous that their dad insisted Dean protect Sam from everything but him.

‘Don't let monsters beat him up because I want to do that.’ Dean mocked his father.

There was a time when John wouldn't lay so much as a harsh word on Sam, but that was before Sammy learned to talk and formed a personality of his own. Dean used to get the brunt of the abuse, anything and everything was blamed on him.

He wished to God that it could go back to that.

#wincest #gencest #weirdcest #samdean #weecest #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #spn

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blu3-j · 3 months ago

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Hello! How are you?? been doing okay?? - Anon

Hello, hello, hello, stranger!

It appears maybe you forgot to put anonymous ask on? Or maybe I turned those off and some of these settings are different on the mobile app and computer, since it showed I had it on when I checked. Either way, stranger with an unrecognized face, hello! Don't be afraid to ask me to take down this post and replace it with one where your username isn't included. I'm more than willing to do so!

Thank you so much for being concerned with my wellbeing! It's greatly appreciated!

Short answer:

No. Dear god no.

Tw: death of animal, chronic pain

Long answer:

I hate to tell you this, but really, the answer is still no. I know I will be in time, with patience with myself and a lot of work, but right now I'm not okely dokely.

To put it all in simple terms with as little words as possible, I lost my best friend of 4 years due to...I don't know. He ghosted me and I didn't realize until about half a year of trying to reach out and his other friends still being in regular contact with him. Not even a single block. It still hurts....and I miss him. A lot. In addition to that, I now have chronic pain! I found out a decade old injury I thought wasn't too bad nor important came back to haunt me in my hard labor job, and now I have to hope to anything and everything alive the department I'm transferring to will hire me so I can keep the benefits of this place. I'm currently relying on a cane and hoping that pain meds will be enough, and half of the time they're not. Not to mention that this will be the first year I will officially not be living at my parents' house for Christmas. Nothing happened to them, I've just officially moved out and it's been a bit hard due to the circumstances of needing to move out. And lastly, this will be the first Christmas that we'll celebrate without an important family member. Our cat that we got way back when I was two, that I thought of as a sister...has passed away. Last time I visited my parents', I'm unsure if they put up her stocking or not. Her death was greatly unexpected just from how quick her body declined in just a few days from being perfectly fine, and she passed only a few days after my birthday. We all took it hard.

End of Tw

For those of you still wondering if I'll ever post fanfiction on here again:

I'm unsure. Life has been hectic and difficult and with my seemingly never-ending interests in hobbies, I'm unsure if I'll come back to it. It took at least half a decade to gain enough courage to even write it in the first place, and I'm unsure if I'll regain that courage or not, haha!

And for those of you still wondering if I'll keep posting art on here:

Also unsure. More than likely yes, seeing as it's been a comfort hobby of mine since I was little, but I've got a lot going on in my life right now. I barely have time to play video games, nonetheless let myself get immersed in drawing. I've got a possible project I've been really looking forward to---well, almost my entire life. My boyfriend has been my rock and number one supporter, and he's been amazing in keeping me going. I'm hoping I'll get it done sooner rather than later, but it's also a hell of a big project, haha! Thank god he's a computer nerd to help me! I got lucky with him.

Alright, well, that's enough rambling and venting on here. I don't wanna end up in a bad picture because my life is currently...'scuse my language---shit right now. Once again, thank you so much for asking. It means more than you'll ever know. To those of you out there, just know I'm rooting for you! Nothing lasts forever, including the bad times! I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day, you amazing strangers!

#blu3 j blog #vent haha #vent

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number-one-breezepelt-hater · 1 year ago

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Forgot to post him here. Eventually I’m gonna go back and add one more thing to his ref.

(Edit: I changed him a bit again.)

I’ve decided Hawkfrost is his mate and he was mentored by Tigerstar. He now looks way more like Blackstar at least white wise. I’ve decided he’s still half-Windclan and shadowclan AND rogue. Which makes his eventual kits with Hawkfrost half-Riverclan, Shadowclan, Thunderclan, Windclan and rogue (LOL).

Also for anyone who is wondering how him and Hawkfrost have kits, because they’ve never heard of my sona before, he’s trans. (Anyone who has a problem with that can kick rocks. I’m trans so my sona is trans.)

I think I’m gonna lean into the bitter angry aspect of his personality. Sure he got out of everything alive but the trauma leaves him all his anger and sadness he doesn’t know what to do with. He holds grudges and doesn’t know how forgive fully. He’s outwardly a kind and good cat but his clan mates know he’s a mess. Comes off as being very nice and patient but really he’s just bottling all his negative emotions most of the time.

Also it makes more sense for when he gets together with Hawkfrost and then Sol later on.

Finished his backstory so here it is.

Yarrow is Blackstar's trans (half) nephew whose mother is a rogue named Frost who while came to shadowclan, during when Tigerstar was leader, because her mother told her she had family in Shadowclan and because she didn't want to raise kits by herself so she went there. Yarrow's father is an average Windclan warrior named Haresnout who had no interest in raising kits and was scared of the idea of his clan finding out that he took a mate outside of the clan. Frost lies and says the kits father was a rogue.

Yarrow is the runt of the litter and has two siblings, Violetkit and Thistlekit. He has trouble walking, talking, keeping his balance, and is often sick during leaf bare. He is bullied because of this.

Tigerstar makes himself Yarrow's mentor and is a cruel and manipulative mentor, making Yarrow believe he's the only who believes in Yarrow while simultaneously tearing down Yarrow's self esteem every chance he gets. Yarrow through Tigerstar guidance becomes incredibly aggressive and a bully to the other apprentices except for his siblings. (Through he's not particularly nice to them either.) He's so distant from his family and none of them know how to help him.

One day Yarrow disappoints Tigerstar by losing a fight with a another apprentice and is sent to go hunting alone. While doing so he spots a fox and thinking it's the perfect way to impress Tigerstar, he attempts to chase it off. He however loses the fight and gets badly injured, losing half of right ear, bitten on the neck, and a large scar on his shoulder. He climbs up a tree to escape and passes out of fear and blood loss.

Eventually he's found by Frost and Blackstar, who are led to him by Thistlepaw, who was secretly following him so he wouldn't be hunting alone, when she saw him trying to fight the fox and immediately decided to get help. He is immediately to taken to the med den and treated. Some moons later all his wounds have healed except his shoulder scar, which becomes infected. Tigerstar is angry about how long it's taking and decides to give Yarrow his warrior name early. He gives him the name Yarrowscar to forever remind him of his scars and foolish actions. Yarrowscar at this point refuses to leave the medicine den and develops a huge fear of foxes.

when Yarrowscar has healed Blackfoot decides to take over training him even though Yarrow is technically a warrior now. Yarrow for the first time has a positive mentor relationship and starts thriving. For the first time Blackfoot starts doubting Tigerstar. Tigerstar has Darkstripe secretly following Blackfoot to keep an eye on him because he doubts now Blackfoot's loyalty.

Frost while alone with Yarrow and Blackfoot reveals who Yarrow's father actually is. Unfortunately Darkstripe overhears this and tells Tigerstar. Tigerstar tricks Yarrow and his siblings to come with hunting with him and has Darkstripe lead Frost and Blackfoot to him. Once there, he has Darkstripe hold down Thistlepaw while he holds down Yarrow. He reveals that he's going to kill Yarrow and his siblings for being half clan while his mother and uncle watch. Thistlepaw manages to get free from Darkstripe’s paws and scratch Tigerstar across the face. Tigerstar almost immediately kills her but it gives Yarrow, and the rest of his family enough time to get away. Yarrow gains two scars near his right eye from this event.

They go to Thunderclan for help and Firestar agrees to let them stay. They all are devastated but Yarrow blames himself and shuts down. The very next day he witnesses Tigerstar horrifying death at the hands of Scourge. Yarrow has conflicted feelings about Tigerstar's death. When the clans win the battle against bloodclan, Yarrow and his family go back to Shadowclan. Then when the clans leave the forest territories Frost instead decides to stay. Her and Yarrow have a private moment where Yarrow apologizes for everything and they have a bittersweet goodbye. Yarrow blames himself for his sibling's death for the rest of his life.

During a gathering in the new lake territories Yarrowscar meets Hawkfrost when meeting up with his Riverclan friend, Froststrike. He is charmed by Hawk, they start meeting in secret and some time later become mates. Yarrow gets pregnant and later gives birth to five kits however Hawkfrost is killed by Brambleclaw before they're born. He is bitter and filled with hatred towards Brambleclaw even though he now knows Hawkfrost wasn't the best cat and killed the Riverclan leader Leopardstar before he died.

(Side by side comparison.)

#warrior cats #warrior cats fandom #warrior cats oc #warrior cat sona #hawkfrost #tigerstar #blackstar #Darkstripe #oc x canon #oc au #yarrowscar

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bitchy-peachy · 1 year ago

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Update:

I'm SEVERELY CONSTIPATED due to my meds but this second round of chemo was handled a lot easier than the first.

Only feel sleepy, thirsty and gassy af but nowhere near as bad as the first.

Drinking tons of strawberry and fruit punch flavored pedialytes so I'm not dehydrated. My doctor swears by pedialyte as a good drink to recover with after chemo and it seems like he wasn't wrong.

If only my stomach wasn't aching with gas though 😭.

One of my doctors in my cancer team didn't even recognize me 🤣.

But it was the first time she saw me with a wig. She mostly saw my bald head, a beanie or a scarf.

Also got a new wig coming in the mail. A longer one. Also black, but straighter. (Current one is wavy and down to my chin)

Trying to regain the weight I lost cos my Latina ass has NO CHEEKS. My nalgas VANISHED and I want them back.

Like why my nalgas GONE? I want them back 😡.

Cancer took MY ASS.

Like I'm OK losing my hair (actually I love being bald cos I prefer wigs over my real hair) but MY NALGAS, DAMN IT!

I want my bones cushioned again. I dgaf about my hair regardless of how my family pretends that I should care cos of some femininity thing (I'm bald and still girly af so idk why they keep trying to force me to cry over my hair. Good riddance. Wigs are better ). What I want my ASS back. 🤬 I like my ASS and tiny waist and now my ASS is gone.

Some people might think this is funny but I'm mad af. That part of my body is very important to me personally.

Also... sitting while bony af is actually painful. I didn't know that was a thing but my hips are in actual pain when I sit wtf. Like I've got little knives poking at me. So uncomfortable.

Gonna google what exercises I can do other than yoga while with cancer. I need muscles on these cheeks or something.

Also "cancer friendly" diets also help lose weight... but a highlight is I have less cellulite due to less body water retention thanks to giving up on all sodas. (They're said to feed cancer with harmful chemicals so I no longer drink soda. Gave up on it forever)

I'm baby skinned too. Smooth af. Even my skin discoloration that I had BEFORE my diagnosis is gone cos of my new diet purifying my insides quite literally.

Problem, however is this "purifying" process has me gassy af. I also heard it's normal for your body to go whack while it's cleaning itself.

Glad I didn't get rashes like a friend of mine did. She gave up on unhealthy fats and all fried foods and she literally broke out for 2 or 3 months cos her body was purging years of unhealthy foods she ate daily.

She's looking great now but sometimes our bodies wanna troll and punish us when we change something drastically.

Wonder if that's my case 😭

On to other things... Trying to contact one of my old roommates cos I saw her in the chemo room and she looked so changed. I'm so terrified for her. It's not her first time but I guess the formula for her IVs was changed.

I'm worried so I'll keep asking her everyday in whatsapp although I'm pretty sure she's resting up. I didn't contact anyone when I had that bad chemo reaction cos I felt too weak to even talk.

I'm becoming naggy af. Don't want to nag her but I wanna know she's OK asap. Or to know how I can help.

I mean I'm probably pretty useless to most people while sick like this but if I can help even a little bit... she's such a nice woman and it's so unfair she's in pain like this.

#personal

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orange-plum · 3 years ago

Note

What are the biggest changes that’ve happened in your life since the update where Nat entered hell?

OH WOW. OK there are a few that come to mind. She entered Hell in early 2017, where I was still living at my apartment. My lease was coming up in a few months, and I had no job and a kidney tumor. Some of this is not the lightest of topics, but I'm a very transparent person who isn't ashamed to tell people my experiences, so just know that going in reading this.

School refused to cancel my loans for the semester I had to drop out of and was going to send me to collections if I didn't pay 4k or something in 10 days. Angel sister was nice and surprised me with a youcaring fund and SaM followers paid it right before surgery so I didn't have to worry about the debt ; - ; I'm still in awe and so grateful for that

I underwent surgery for my kidney tumor April 28, 2017, a few months after that update.

Tapas offered me a contract job to do Beneath the Ark after my recovery from surgery, so it was nice to know I had a job waiting for me when I was done. (For reference, I hadn't been working since basically July 2016 because right after I moved into the apartment and started another semester of art school, I thought my appendix was bursting one morning and went to the ER. Turned out I had a small kidney stone, but on the X-ray they caught my tumor which was the size of a baseball roughly, by accident. It was actually such a rare case that my surgeon told me everyone in his department talked about me hhh) Anyway, I had to drop out of school and couldn't keep a job for health reasons up till my surgery, so Tapas offering me a job then was a lifesaver. I also developed shingles in response to the shock of having a tumor so that was fun lol

I had to get rid of my cat Wilson after surgery because I took her as a stray from the apartment, but she wasn't getting along with my parent's cat when I moved in with them for them to take care of me after surgery.

I went to Hawaii that July, still recovering from surgery. There, I had to work the entire time, and developed an infection from some antibiotics I was taking, so we have a joke that I've never been to Hawaii and would love to someday, because I didn't get to experience it.

The following 6 months I was in the ER for kidney related problems 6 times.

End of 2017 my group chat fell apart and stopped being friends in a really messy way, which threw me into a huge depression. I began therapy for the first time and stopped in January 2018 after being on antidepressants and getting better mental health.

Planned a trip with new group chat to go to Japan in August 2018. Started working out a lot, regained confidence.

Old bff Lemon was moving away with her fiancé and had me go out with her to a bar April 13, 2018. TMI but I got drugged and raped that night. I don't really like Lemon anymore, because after that, I got depressed again, got diagnosed with PTSD, put on anti anxiety meds, and she refused to help contact the taxi driver for testimony saying I wasn't with her. Eventually reported to the cops but ultimately didn't file because he said if it's proven false, I could get in trouble :P

Go to Japan with friends in August for a month and have an amazing time.

Come home to some more friend drama, lose some friends temporarily.

Grandpa dies Easter 2019. Can't attend funeral because I have to work.

Move to AZ with family in May 2019. New start, new beginning. Absolutely HATE it, but I'm still here lol

Early 2020 get diagnosed with multiple health conditions. I see a doctor every couple of months, I'm on a few daily meds as we speak.

March 2020-October 2020 attend physical therapy for bum hand. IMMENSE HELP. Gives me tools to keep hand healthy. I was about to retire drawing within a few months, so that saved me.

All of 2021 work with an editor on a book. Finish book. Pitching book to agents as we speak

Nov 2021 buy a car. Took forever to save up but have a 2016 Honda that I got for 14k it was a STEAL

Dec 2021 a good friend of mine moves away across the country suddenly. She'd moved from Boston to the Bay to be roomies in 2016, then followed to AZ with me. We had 6 years of being local, so it's an adjustment now.

Jan 10th 2022 destroy my foot. End up on crutches till April. The stress of not walking/not driving/having people make all my food and bring it to me/can't shower/etc causes so much stress, all my hair falls out. Grow extremely depressed. Get a month long period for the entire month of March. Develop mouth infection (that I currently still have I'm on day 12). Find out, all from stress from not walking for months. Now, things are clearing up because I can walk again as of the last maybe 2 weeks?

Grandma dies April 2022, partially due to covid. Bringing almost entire family together in Tahoe to spread ashes this coming June. Looking forward to seeing fam I haven't in over a decade.

Work my ass off since I can't go anywhere while on crutches. Patreon's doing the best it's ever done. Might be able to actually pay off student loans and move out now tbh. Waiting on sister to get a job after graduating where her and her hubby offered to rent me a room in the house they wanna buy. Things slowly but surely looking up.

As you can see, it's been quite the few years lol And she's only been in Hell canon time about a little over a month. Crazy how life is!

#personal #im happy rn tho if its any consolation #im doing better and regaining my life so its nice #tmi

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curiousconch · 4 years ago

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Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 3)

Part 3: Remember when everything was different

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Aislinn, Gigi and Alex find friendship in the midst of the competition. One discussion led to another, pushing Alex to take a trip down memory lane, revealing the moment in her past where she and Gabe's paths crossed for the first time.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.7k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, language. Scenes/themes may trigger trauma for some, reader discretion advised.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Sunday, downtown New York

"Wait, can you back up for a moment," Aislinn said across Alex, who was scooping the remains of her melted banana split. Gigi was sipping her ice-cold mimosa, their brunch table full of plates with scrapes of leftovers. The sun was out and so were they, dining al fresco under the shade of a huge white parasol and the gentle breeze cooling them every now and then. It was a perfect day so far.

The trio has agreed to meet up that Sunday to discuss what went down with the Rothswell case as well as to prep for the conference Sadie had invited them to. They were on some kind of a peace pact, all of them sharing the view that pitting women against women in the corporate world is just shitty business.

Alex has enjoyed their company. They exchanged imaginary one-liners that would have made Martin frown his heart out or Beau McGraw chortle his head off. And speaking of McGraw, they all concluded that the best strategic course of action was to let Beau enjoy his moment in the sun. One day, Alex would make sure to remind him that he tried to rain on her parade.

It was a refreshing and enlightening discussion, though she will forever be traumatized with how many swears Gigi can cram in a single sentence. But the sight of a flustered Aislinn while Alex and Gigi engaged in a battle of pick-up lines with their waiter was a strong second contender.

As their drinks flowed, the conversation naturally led to rhetorical questions, now settling at why they became a lawyer. Aislinn shared first, surprisingly, stating that her knack for analysis was just a natural fit to the demands of a career in law. Gigi's answer was simple - she can leverage her eidetic memory to earn herself some serious dough, allowing her to live it up and take impromptu vacations to Bali.

Alex tried to dodge the question. She had never needed to discuss her reason of leaving pre-med behind to attend law school. It wasn't a pleasant memory, and she doubted it will ever be.

The two ladies were quick to see her attempts of evasion. But together, they finally wore her down, Alex left laughing with their shenanigans as they cornered her to tell her story. So she told them that she knew Gabe Ricci. And that it was because of him why she was a lawyer. Alex decided that revealing the truth was worth it, seeing how their jaws just dropped to the floor.

"Girl, you have to explain yourself right now," Gigi demanded, to which Aislinn seconded.

Alex snorted as she went back to skimming what was left of her dessert. "It's a boring sob story, and I don't want to turn this lovely morning into a snooze fest."

"We're not going anywhere, right Gi?" Aislinn turned to Gigi beside her, who nodded whilst sipping another glass of cocktail.

"Fine, but only if you swear this won't leave this table," she said. The two held up their hands invoking a half-smiling Alex, sensing nothing but sincerity. So she drank down her glass of bloody mary and took a deep breath, composing her tale.

"Buckle up, ladies, you're in for a ride."

10 years ago, in a town near Boston

Alessandra Keating had never felt more alone than she did that day.

They said she needed to just move forward. But how can she, when every day since the crash, she felt nothing but emptiness? How can she feel alright, when the only life that she knew was suddenly taken away from her?

It wasn't long before she found out that the car accident was caused by someone being reckless, by someone who thought they were above the law. Then, she imploded. No way could she let her parent's deaths be forgotten. No fucking way.

For the past three years, she invested all of herself into this endeavor. Researching, studying, choosing the right counsel, even raising funds. It was what kept her breathing, what gave her purpose. Ultimately, it was what kept her sane.

From filing the lawsuit to attending mediations, to numerous settlement meetings and colliding with every legal roadblock possible - Alex made sure to see them through. Only for everything to be decided that day - the bench trial.

One sweltering summer morning in her hometown's courthouse, Alex sat on the side of the plaintiff, with her long brunette hair tangled in waves. She let her senses wander, taking in the dark wooden panels and pews, her sense of smell invaded by the scent of old mahogany. She sealed her lips into silence, hiding her nerves by straightening the bargain khaki suit that she borrowed.

She barely held it in as her eyes travelled to the table beside them, catching a glimpse of the man that caused her immeasurable pain. With jet black hair and looking as young as her, he sat with an almost mocking expression. He was wearing a crisper set of suit, creating an illusion of trustworthiness that Alex can easily see through.

Maximilian K. Cornell. The green-eyed teenager who swerved his sports car onto the same slippery road Alex and her parents were passing through. The very same boy who got out unharmed, but left Alex's family to die in the snow. Her opponent was a slithery snake who managed to screw the justice system so many times over, just because his parents had the grease to do so.

But after the crash, the town decided they can no longer turn the other cheek. Alex's decision to sue was propelled by the support of the countless friends and families whom her parents have helped in their hour of need. But that still proved not enough.

Her mind whirled back to the proceedings, and to how every strategy, every plan of attack was being thrown out. With every whip from the defense, she started to grow impatient. As another traffic expert from her camp was dismissed, Alex just snapped inside. She leaned to Mr. Leroy, a withering man on the brink of retirement who was her lawyer, asking for them to convene outside.

"I'm sorry Mr. Leroy, but your strategies were just scrutinized and torn into pieces," Alex said in a low voice the moment they stepped out into the hallway.

"Alex, I am doing my best here. We clearly don't have the upper hand, lacking the incriminating evidence that we need," the man replied, exasperated.

"Have we dug up his previous records? I mean, why on earth would he have a sealed history? Doesn't that mean something?" she continued.

She continued to dictate her litany of better-positioned moves, but even Alex knew she wasn't getting through. So she excused herself from the conversation, hoping a cup of iced coffee will somehow mitigate her frustrations.

As soon as she came back, she found Mr. Leroy convening with a much younger man in a dark navy suit. His aura screamed "big city hotshot", albeit the exhausted look in his brown eyes. Not wanting to interrupt, she held off from approaching. However, her curiosity didn't stop her from eavesdropping.

What she heard the charismatic man say was a legal precedent that would have opened the sealed records in question. And with all the mind-boggling legal jargon, that's just about what she understood.

"Gabriel Ricci? I'm looking for an attorney named Gabriel Ricci?" a female voice from a nearby window called out, which made the young man raise his head. She saw him end the conversation abruptly, where a flustered Mr. Leroy hastily thanked him. Alex took that as her queue to approach her lawyer.

"Alex, we might be able to turn things around," she heard Leroy say.

And by some miracle, things did turn around. With her lawyer using the precedent offered by the young attorney earlier, their side gained the needed momentum to tip the scales in their favor. By the end of the trial, the verdict was out - Cornell will never be able to drive another vehicle, along with paying her a hefty amount of damages and fees.

They won.

Alex had to pinch herself before the victory sunk in. When it did, she felt an immense burden lifted from her shoulders.

After a long, long time, Alex can finally breathe.

Broken free from her nightmares, she asked herself what's next? The answer came to her almost immediately. Right there and then, she decided what she wanted to be. Like that man from the courthouse, she will become a lawyer.

Fueled by this new sense of mission, she saw a future for herself. No longer held by the past, she finally was able to move forward.

Indeed, Alex became what she set out to do - a lawyer who took on hopeless, even impossible cases and won them. A lawyer her parents would be proud of.

A damn good lawyer, just like Gabriel Ricci.

Present Day, at a New York Penthouse

Gabe sat in his home office clad in nothing but his white bath robe, holding a worn manila folder.

Five years ago, Gabe saw this case as his opportunity to make Robbie proud. The defendant had all the parallels with his brother - a teenager, incarcerated young, where the punishment had presumed to be too harsh. He now knew it was rightfully just.

But at that time, he was blinded by passion and ambition. He wanted to prove to himself and to Sadie what he can do. Taking on this case that was practically unwinnable would give him more power, more control over the pro bono cases he wanted to take. Actually winning this though, that proved to be his fatal mistake.

Your cockiness got the better of you again, Ricci.

His mind went to Alex. That was the direction his every waking moment drifted to nowadays. Whether he liked it or not, he'd answer some other day.

He had to let her know. If he didn't, Alex would eventually find out herself. Once she discovers that he was the one who had set this man free, she would hate him.

Gabe can't bring himself to think of that happening, of losing that chance with her, or of losing Alex's trust.

Hell, I'm going to lose her entirely if she finds out.

These realizations devastated him.

But how can they both escape the looming shadows of the past unscathed? Even he couldn't figure that out.

Sighing, he rubbed his hand on his face, reeling at his lack of options. He then stood up, slamming the open folder on his desk as he turned to face the window, simmering in his own regrets. Papers slipped out to the carpeted floor, including a full-page mugshot of the defendant.

It was Maximilian Cornell.

Author's Notes: With Sadie being shady AF, I feel like we all need some dose of female friendship right? Also, this is my HC why Gabe constantly pulls away from MC, not only because of their working relationship. Did the reveal live up to the cliffhanger? Let me know in the comments! 👇👇👇

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses

@choicesficwriterscreations

Thank you for your continued reading!

Want to be added or removed to the tag list? No problem - just let me know 😊. Reblogs are also much appreciated! 💕

#laws of attraction #choices laws of attraction #choices loa #laws of attraction fanfiction #choices laws of attraction fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #gabe ricci x mc #gabe ricci #aislinn tanaka #gigi sinclair

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tinyboxxtink · 4 years ago

Text

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 12*

Chapter 11

(i fucked this up by editing on my phone and now I have to post the next chapter link like this. )

Whoooo buddy! The angst is REAL, y'all.

I apologize for this, but also I really don't. And I made it normal length to make up for that short shitty one earlier.

Enjoy!!!! Mwahahahahha

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

---------

It seemed like forever for the ambulance to get there, Rafael just sat there trembling and crying while you started to convulse in his arms. Finally the door busted open and EMT’s threw you on a gurney and took you downstairs. Rafael sprinted behind them and jumped in the back of the ambulance as it sped away.

“Y/N….Carino please, please don’t die on me…” Rafael stroked your hair as you were hooked up to oxygen and anti drug meds. It was like literal hell having to watch this all over again, even worse that it was someone he actually...loved.

“Please, please don’t die…” He looked up to the sky.

----------------

Rafael paced the hospital waiting area furiously, they wouldn’t let him go back with you once the ambulance got you both there. When he saw Sonny running up the hallway towards him, he grabbed him by the neck and shoved him up against the wall.

“I TOLD YOU!!!!” He screamed violently, while several nurses ran over and pulled them apart.

“Rafael! Jesus Christ--” Sonny was breathing heavily while he tried to recover from Rafael’s ambush.

“I told you something was wrong, I told you I knew her better than you did!” He tried to wrestle away from the nurses.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’m sorry alright?!” Sonny yelled, tears starting to fill his eyes. “I should have listened to you--”

“You’re god damn right you should have!!!” Rafael continued to scream.“ She could die right now, do you realize that?”

“Of course I realize that!” Sonny screamed back while looking around them, trying not to make a scene.

“God dammit Carisi, she knew better than you. Why didn't you listen to her?!” Rafael was beginning to cry; he was so upset.

“Barba I--” Sonny started to apologize.

“Excuse me, is Miss Y/L/N’s family here?” An orderly came out from the back.

“I am!” Sonny forgot about Rafael and ran over to the man, Rafael did the same.

“I’m sorry sir but this is really just a family conversation--” He started to dismiss Rafael, but Sonny put his hand up.

“He’s fine,” He assured the doctor.

“Right, well--” He cleared his throat as he led them to a more quiet area. “The damage to Y/N’s body is pretty bad,”

“....God,” Sonny muttered, putting a hand over his forehead.

“The mouthwash has several chemicals that aren’t in traditional grain alcohols, mostly lethal. And her pancreas, liver and gallbladder were already severely damaged from the years of alcohol abuse,” He explained as he looked gravely between the two men.

“No…” Rafael put his hands over his face.

Flashbacks of a very similar conversation happening between a doctor and his mother filled his mind. The way his mother fell against the wall when she heard the doctor say there was a good chance his father was never waking up.

“How bad is it, doc?” Sonny’s voice quivered, and Rafael instinctively took his hand.

“Well, we had to completely remove the gallbladder, and parts of her pancreas so she’s most likely going to develop diabetes,” He further explained. “...And she most likely will need a liver transplant, depending on how the next 24 hours go,”

“Christ…” Sonny whipped his hand from Rafael’s touch and put both of his hands over his head while he paced.

“Can we see her?” Rafael asked.

“Yes, you know your daughter is very lucky to be alive,” The doctor informed them.

“...Excuse me?” Sonny asked while he and Rafael exchanged confused looks.

“...Are you two not her dads?” The doctor waved his pen between the two men.

“Oh my god,” Rafael muttered in horror, wanting to vomit right there.

“Uh, no sir-- no we’re not,” Sonny shook his head. “I’m her uncle and this is my partner,”

“Excuse me?!” Rafael practically screamed in disgust.

“...Do you want them to let you back there to see her or not, honey?” Sonny said through his teeth.

“Right,” Rafael nodded uncomfortably, taking Sonny’s hand once more. “We’re her...Uncles,” He tried not to grimace.

“Oh, right. So sorry sirs,” The doctor apologized once more as he led your “Uncles” to the room you were in. You were unconscious, but breathing on your own.

“She might be out a while from the meds, if you’d like to come back tomorrow,” The doctor informed them once more.

“Uh, I think we’ll wait at least for a little while, if you don’t mind doc,” Sonny replied while Rafael walked up to your sleeping body and just stroked your hair lovingly.

“Whatever you two want to do is fine with me,” He nodded. “I have other patients to see, if you’ll excuse me,”

Sonny nodded to him and he walked out of the room leaving the three of you alone. Sonny ran his hands through his hair while Rafael pulled a chair up next to your bed, still stroking your hair.

“...Barba I think you should leave,” Sonny said softly.

“...What?” He laughed. “Are you...are you fucking joking me, Carisi?”

“No look,” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I’m sorry I didn’t hear her. And I’m sorry that I just...gave up, protecting her,”

“Yeah well--”

“But I hear you now, and-- and she’s going to need to go away,” He looked at your sleeping body sadly.

“She’s in no shape to go anywhere, Carisi,” Rafael clutched your hand as if he was protecting you.

“Not now, no,” Sonny agreed. “But when she’s better--”

“We don’t know if she’s going to get better!” Rafael suddenly stood up and walked towards him; Sonny backed up as he approached, afraid Rafael was going to grab him again.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t be here!” Sonny argued.

“What?”

“Barba look,” He cautiously put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “I...I get that you two have some kind of-- I don’t know, connection,” He glanced at you.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you barely know her, and she barely knows you. You have a job and a life waiting for you tomorrow, you can’t be sitting here sitting vigil for some girl you slept with once,”

“How dare you fucking say that to me, Carisi,” Rafael’s eyes narrowed as he snapped his shoulder from Sonny’s grasp.

“How fucking dare you. First you don’t want me anywhere near her, then you tell her she’s nothing to me, then suddenly you think that I’m in love with her, and-- and now that I’m finally...attached to her-- you want me to just leave her alone again?”

“No, I never wanted you near her because of this exact situation!” Sonny hissed, trying not to wake you. “I told you straight up that she was complicated, and that you weren’t about that life,”

“I am about that life-- I’m serious, about her,” Rafael corrected himself, rolling his eyes at the terms Sonny used.

“Well I don’t think you should be,” Sonny crossed his arms.

“This is the jealousy thing again, isn’t it?” Rafael licked his lips angrily. “You and your stupid ego can’t stand the fact that we--”

“That is NOT it Rafael and you fucking know it,” Sonny narrowed his eyes.

“Then what is it?” Rafael crossed his arms. “It’s clearly not because it’s too much for me, because I’m flat out telling you it’s not,”

“Rafael--” Sonny placed his hands over his face. “I have spent my life protecting this girl, okay? And I may have dropped the ball here, but that just means that I will sure as hell not do it again. And that means that I have to have her best interest at heart,”

“What does that even mean?” Rafael looked at him quizzically.

“Her whole world is different now, Barba!” Sonny gestured to you. “You heard the doc. She has no gallbladder, whatever the fuck that means, she will probably get diabetes, god knows what will happen even if she needs a liver transplant, but my guess is it ain’t good!”

“...Well she won’t be able to drink alcohol,” Rafael said softly.

“Which will make her sobriety that much more urgent and permanent, Barba,” Sonny stepped towards your bed.

“She’s gonna have a long hard road ahead of herself no matter which way this goes right now, and keeping her on track is the only way she is gonna get through it. You think she’s gonna be able to focus on anything but you if you stay here?”

“I can help her--” Rafael insisted, glancing down at your innocent sleeping face. It broke his heart you were hurting, now all he wanted to do was take care of you and make sure you never hurt again.

“You don’t have the time or the freedom to do that, Rafael,” Sonny said sternly. “And you know it,” Sonny’s statement brought him back to reality.

“And you do?” He looked back up at Sonny.

“I’m a detective, Barba. It’s not like I do that much,” Sonny shrugged. “And I have enough PTO for a bit to take care of her. And she’s my responsibility! She’s MY family, Liv will understand that. What she won’t understand is you sitting Shiva at some young girl’s bedside who you barely know,”

“....And what are you going to do when she gets better?” Rafael ran a finger down your bare arm, wishing you would wake up and stop this nonsense your cousin was spewing.

“I’ll ask around,” Sonny now sat next to your bed. “I’ll find her a good place, somewhere she can be taken care of the right way, not some creepy mental hospital,”

“...Alright fine,” He sighed, looking at his watch. It was getting late, and he had an early court date.

“I’m coming back--”

“No, you’re not,” Sonny shook his head. “Look I promise you if she gets worse and needs your emergency liver or kidney or somethin’, I’ll let you know. Other than that, just-- leave her be,”

Rafael flashed back to the last time Sonny had used those words, and how as soon as he agreed, you heard him and it destroyed you. He couldn’t do that again, what if you could still hear him?

“No, I’m coming back--”

“Barba if you come back here I’m gonna tell the nurses that we broke up and you are no family member of hers,”

“You,” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t do that--”

“If it keeps you away from her, I’ll do anything right now Barba, I’m sorry,” Sonny gave him a sympathetic look.

“...She’ll never forgive you for this, Carisi,” He warned Sonny. “When she finds out you kept us apart she will never forgive you,”

“What are you Romeo and Juliet all of a sudden, counselor?” Sonny scoffed. “Give me a friggin break. I’m sure she’ll get over it, when she’s clean and sober and thinking straight,”

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” he growled with a death glare.

“...Yeah, well--” Sonny stood up and started escorting Rafael out the door. “I guess that’s something I’ll just have to live with,”

Rafael glared at him once more before turning on his heels and stomping down the hall, just as you stirred from your med nap.

“Sunshine?” Sonny quickly ran to your bedside.

“Rafa..?” You sleepily asked, you swore you heard his voice just moments ago.

“It’s Sonny,” He nervously looked back at the door, making sure Rafael hadn’t heard you wake up and came running in again.

“Oh,” You blinked several times, trying to get your vision back. When the blur in your pupils resolved, you saw Sonny’s smiling face beaming at you.

“Hey there,” He kissed your forehead. “You scared the shit outta me there, Sunshine,”

“...I’m so sorry, Sonny,” You began to cry in remorse.

“Hey hey hey,” Sonny took you in his arms and shushed you while he rocked you. “Shh shh shh, you’re alright. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you when you were asking for help, I just--I just let you go,”

“...But Rafael didn’t,” You sniffled as you looked around the room for him. “Where is he?”

“He uh--” Sonny stammered. “He left, Sunshine. Early court meeting tomorrow, y’know. Lawyer stuff,”

“Right,” You nodded.

“...He said he wouldn’t be coming back,” Sonny added with a sympathetic look.

“What?” You blinked in disbelief. Had he really just taken off? Without even saying goodbye?

“Well it’s just,” Sonny took your hands. “Honey you’re-- you’re gonna have a lot to go through these next few weeks, maybe months. And Rafael--”

“He doesn’t have time for that,” You finished for him, accepting the truth.

“Yeah,” Sonny nodded slowly.

“Right,” You picked at your blanket as you stared down at it morosely. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything more than him dropping me here. He tried telling me that he was--”

“He was what?” Sonny quirked an eyebrow. You thought about telling him that Rafael had said he was in love with you, but you weren’t entirely sure that happened anymore, given how out of it you were at the apartment.

“...He was ready for a relationship,” You lied. “But I guess he wasn’t ready for a dumpster fire of a girlfriend,”

“You’re not a dumpster fire, Sunshine,” Sonny assured you.

“...Yeah clearly this doesn’t scream ‘damaged goods’,” You gestured to all the wires you were hooked up to.

“You’re not--” Sonny sighed and shook his head as he wrapped his arms back around you. “You’ll find someone,”

“...Not someone like him,” You whispered sadly, tears dripping down onto your IV tube.

“Well hey,” Sonny coughed as he tried to change the subject. “I better get goin’ make sure you get some good sleep,”

“...But I was just--” You tried to say you had been sleeping this whole time.

“I’ll come check on you tomorrow, kay?” Sonny kissed your head and started heading towards the door. He hated to do this, but he had to keep you safe. He turned around and gave you a sad smile.

“Hey, Sunshine?”

“Yeah, Son?”

“I uh, I don’t wanna rub it in or nothin’, I just--” Sonny cleared his throat. “Barba wanted me to tell you not to contact him anymore,”

“...Oh,” You looked over at your phone, which was charging on the table next to your bed.

“He just thought it would be easier, y’know? Clean break and all,” Sonny lied with a sad smile.

“Yeah, sure no of course,” You nodded, trying to keep it together.

“Alright well, I’ll see ya,” He nodded one more time before shutting the door, leaving you alone.

You immediately grabbed your phone and began typing a message to Rafael, telling him how you were sorry and that you never should have tried to kick him out, and that he saved your life and that you knew you were a huge mess, but that you would clean yourself and do everything in your power to be good enough for him if he just let you--and you just stared at it.

You re-read it a thousand times, tears streaming down your cheeks. You couldn’t send this, it was pathetic. He already made his choice, he tried to tell you he loved you and you had blown him off by almost dying in his arms. And he ran. You couldn’t blame him either, you’d run away faster than a Kenyan track star if you were him.

After going through all that bullshit with his dad, he’d never want to relive that with you, some girl he barely knew. There was no way. And begging him to come back to you after all the shit you said to him at your apartment was just pitiful.

You deleted the message and then started to delete his contact info, but you knew you needed to be drastic. If it was a clean break he wanted, you’d have to give it to him. You’d already put him through way too much stress and punishment than he deserved, you had to be stopped. You highlighted his number and hit “BLOCK NUMBER”, before deleting it from your phone.

There. Now there was no way you could find him, or vice versa. Clean break. You put the phone down next to you and laid down, realizing what you had just done. You had just deleted the potential love of your life from your existence, forever. You cried yourself to sleep, only dreaming of Rafael.

=============

Rafael laid down in his bed after getting home and showering the bad day off of him. He opened the text thread of your messages, and saw the ellipsis light up, signaling that you were typing. It was there for a long time, he became more and more anxious as they just flashed in the darkness, taunting him. He was so happy you were okay, he had to tell you what Sonny said but that he would never be able to keep him from you. He waited and waited, and then the dots were gone. He waited a moment for you to send it, but soon got impatient and just texted you

“Y/N I’m so glad you’re okay, you had me so worried. I miss you,”

He hit SEND, but was met with the most horrifying response:

“The number you have texted has blocked you from contacting them.”

“No…” He muttered alone in the dark. “No, this can’t be happening,”

Did Sonny have your phone? Did he do this? Did he tell you something to make you do this? Did you do this on your own when you realized he had left. Sonny had to have told you something bad, something diabolical. He had no way of contacting you now, and he would never get into the hospital to see you.

What was going on?

-------------

The next morning after his court session, Rafael headed over to the precinct to talk to Sonny. He practically sprinted through the door into the bullpen, to find it empty.

“...Where’s the SVU squad?” Rafael asked a cop at the front desk.

“Do I look like a concierge, Barba?” The cop rolled his eyes. “Does my badge say ‘doorman’? I don’t keep tabs on you people!”

“Thanks Louie,” Rafael rolled his eyes as he walked out of the station, dialing Sonny’s number on his phone.

“Hello?”

“What did you do?”

“Barba?”

“What did you do, Carisi?!”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N blocked my number,”

“Well good--”

“NO, not good. Carisi. What did you say to her?”

“Y’know Barba, maybe you should take the hint and move on,”

“Oh fuck you, Carisi,” He growled into the phone. “I’m going to the hospital,”

“Yeah well, good luck getting in here counselor,” Sonny shook his head with a small laugh, glancing over at you in your room, while he stood outside. “I’ve told the nurses you were a deadbeat dad who wanted to kidnap our niece for yourself, so they’re on alert not to let you anywhere near her,”

“You’re evil,” His voice was low and horrified.

“I’m doing what’s best for my baby cousin, Barba. If that makes me the bad guy, so be it,” Sonny spoke like a mob boss, tracing the glass on the window to your room.

“I’ll see her when she gets out,” Rafael sneered.

“Well that might be difficult, seeing as I’ve found her a very nice place to go as soon as she gets outta here. Somewhere far away from here, and you,” Sonny couldn’t help but smirk.

“No, Carisi don’t do this,” Rafael became desperate, his angry threats turned to pathetic pleas. “Please don’t send her away-- I love her,”

“If you love her you’ll let her go, Rafael,” Sonny simply said, ending the call before Rafael could say anything else.

“GOD DAMMIT!!!!” Rafael screamed in the middle of the foot traffic, making people turn and stare at him.

He had to fix this. He couldn’t let you leave thinking he didn’t want you. He couldn’t lose you, not now. Not after everything.

Was he going to lose you forever?

#rafael barba #rafael barba angst #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu #sonny carisi #sonny carisi angst #law and order svu fanfiction #weird secret friends

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angelmom7511 · 3 years ago

Text

The shitshow that is my life in abridged version:

In 2011 my life turned to shit. I lost my second child. It was brutal. I literally laid in a pool of my blood waiting on paramedics to come get me. I'd find out later that had turned blue from the blood loss, my veins were collapsing too it took them forever to get ivs in me.

2012 took my step mom, making my dad to attempt to commit suicide one month after her death. I was newly pregnant with my third child.

Before my son turned 1, my grandaddy had a stroke, and thus began that saga. My grandpa had also been put in a nursing home due to his Parkinsons and the dementia along with it. He passed in 2015.

December 2017, I was in two accidents. The second is the one that made my life go further downhill. I have been in pain since that day he hit me. It hasn't stopped. Everything in my low back, left hip, and the sciatic nerve have never quit hurting. Anything to help it, has only worked slightly but nothing has taken this pain away.

February 2019, I am in my third accident in 14 months. I'm thinking where the hell is this bullseye I seem to have on me. This is where I am fucking screwed.

I have no job for a bit. So I lose my health insurance. New job is part time, so no insurance through then. I'm off some of my meds including my antidepressants.

July 2019 my grandaddy gets worse, they call in the family. So my anxiety shoots through the roof. I have trouble eating, I'm nauseous all the time, I dropped 20 lbs in a month. I'm not doing good at all. Grandaddy passes August 9, the day I miscarried my first child. They tell me later they told him to get a move on by telling him to go look after my daughter. The thread holding me together fucking snaps.

Tuesday right after he dies is his funeral, I get a call that they find my sister dead. I know right then and there I'd never know what killed her. Her family like disowned us after her mother died. Acted like we didn't exist.

Grandaddys funeral goes as well as can be expected. Since there's issues with my sisters family, we weren't invited to whatever they intend to do. A group of her friends holds a memorial. My husband is like complaining the entire time he's there. Then someone lights up a joint. Keep in mind we are outside. He flips his lid wanting to leave early because he doesn't want the kid around it. It was not going to hurt him at all. I was pissed he had to do that to me. I then had insurance again so I knew I needed to get my antidepressants back, I told him I was going to the doctor and why. His first response was, "figured out you've been hard to live with huh?"

I wrote my feelings down on a piece of paper in a rough draft that was nasty and raw and would definitely make anyone feel like shit, but it was never meant to be read by anyone but me so I could clean it up and make it not so harsh. He found it and read it, leaving that weekend to stay with his mom. October he tells me he wants a divorce, that he doesn't want to work on our marriage. He gave up.

I tried to enter the dating world as a single mom. Dudes are fucking gross. Like 9 out of 10 are wanting to show off their dick. Like seriously dude can you not because if that's all you have to offer me, this will NOT work.

So enter Dale... name not changed as he doesn't deserve to be protected. Dale, it seems, is a drug addict. So he uses me as his money mule for drugs, spinning all sorts of lies to get more money off of me. He manipulated me. He gaslit me too. I was made to feel it was my fault for things. I was questioned as if I was a cheater because the drugs made him paranoid. He threatened to hit me in a drug and alcohol fuelled rage. I gave him a chance to make it right by getting off the drugs. I would help and then I caught him in a lie and I wasn't able to continue with the relationship that way. It was a bad break up. Where I was made to feel like it was all my fault and that I was never that good looking anyway you know just trying to make me out to be awful. Lower my self esteem, and it worked. I don't feel I'm worthy of anyone's love and that I'm ugly as hell because that's all I've been told. Then being ignored by my husband for so long in our marriage does horrible things to your mind. I got called ugly all throughout school so hearing it again in my mind fucked me up badly.

This week on Monday I got called by my lawyer to discuss my case. Because of accident number 3 I'm not getting what I deserve money wise on my case as anything that happened after that accident occurred is literally like it didn't happen. So now I'm not getting enough to get through all of my debt. I was out of work for a few weeks and then I had a boss who then had me working 23 hours a week at $10 per hour. I haven't been able to make ends meet. I don't know how I can catch up now that I have more debt added to my pile. I currently don't have health insurance. I have a better job but I can't catch up enough because I'm so far behind. I'm adding stress on my stress and it's just getting worse, depressive feelings are off the wall, loneliness of being a single mom and no man to share the good and bad times with is very hard.

The isolation of not really having friends is catching up to me too. I'm truthfully not doing well at all.

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sheresh0y · 4 years ago

Text

Mar'eyce Introduces:

Ro Donetta-Awaud: He/Him, 30-ish

Along with his family:

Dagon Donetta-Awaud: He/Him, 28-ish

Tann Donetta-Awaud: 11-ish

Kato Donetta-Awaud: 5-ish

Ellis Donetta-Awaud: 5-ish

A/N: I decided to go balls to the wall with the rest of these characters. So much backstory. All of it. I'm dumping it right here. Drabbles will added, moodboards whenever the fancy strikes. The rest of Arumorut has had their stories told at this point in the story so, fuck it, whatever. I love these OCs too much and I'm screaming it from rooftops, baby. I know suck at writing children and these Awaud children are definitely come across as way too old but go with me on this. I also left the children's pronouns empty because I'm not entirely sure what they're all trying to tell me yet. I'll update it when they let me know.

Warnings: This fic and AU is 18+ for a reason. Mentions of parental death, swearing, slavery and unwanted children mentions. Ro's a little sad boy under all that armor.

Read from the beginning: Mar'eyce Masterlist

Ro Doneeta was born to Volya and Rol Doneeta, Twi'lek freedom fighters turned Rebels. When Ro had turned four, his parents went a on a routine trip for supplies and never came home. He was adopted shortly after by Kai and Ilyah, a quickly and quietly whispered pact made by the only two parents in their corner of The Rebellion after one too many close calls.

"Take care of them, for us. Please."

The Awauds openly encouraged Ro to participate in Twi'lek culture. Just because he was a Mandalorian now didn't mean he stopped being a Twi'lek as well. The entire clan learned Ryl and Kai and Ilyah found mentors for him to teach him the things they couldn't. They were never sure if they did right by their son, but they tried their best.

After the Awauds retired from the war and were sent back to Arumorut, when Ro and Kaiyah were sixteen, Ro threw himself into the deep end of medicine. It wasn’t humble in the way that Ba’buir was, he didn’t want to train the clan in first aid or help children with their sniffles. Ro had lost so much to the galaxy and this was his fuck you.

First, his ryma and kora, then his lek, now his buir. Kai’buir was physically there, but mentally, emotionally they were nowhere to be found. It was like he had died without dying. Ro decided he was going to fix it all, no one in his family was dying again. Nobody was getting left behind. For everything the galaxy took from Ro, he was going to drag back to this life with his bare hands.

After a few months of shadowing Ba'buir Nejaa, Ro was decided to pursue medical school on Naboo. It was a relatively peaceful planet, since tourism was most of the economy they were malleable to whoever was in charge. This meant that Ro couldn't just walk around anywhere. The Empire was still standing and he was a Mandalorian who may or may not be wanted.

Ba'buir Nejaa said no immediately. Their reasoning was the armor. Armor was important, every Mandalorian wore it all the time. The only reason Nejaa didn't anymore was because Kaiyah needed a new set and they had gifted their set to her. Ro didn't have this exception so he tried a compromise: he would wear the chest plate under his clothes. The plate was the biggest piece of armor he had and helped the most with regulating his temperature anyway. It wasn't comfortable but it was the best he could come up with.

About four years into his medical education, Ro met Dagon through some mutual friends. It was terror at first sight, the poor Zabrak man was missing nearly all of his right ear and Ro knew it was his fault. His stupid plan to fight an Aryx head-on had consequences he didn't full think of at the time.

Try as he might to avoid Dagon, it didn't matter. It was like the up and coming designer was everywhere, Dagon seemed to have his own gravity and Ro was quickly pulled in.

It didn't take long for them to fall in love, by the third official date Dagon was asking Ro to move in and by the fifth they were married. For his part, Dagon took everything Mandalorian related in stride. He barely blinked when Ro explained soulmates and the reasons they were both all scarred up on the first date. He just asked if 'his Mandalorian' had anyone to take care of him.

When Ro graduated school, not quiet a doctor but close enough, the couple had a long talk about the future. They both knew they wanted kids but The Empire was still looming. It wasn't safe for Mandalorians to be openly walking around and they were both faced with the thought it might never be. Dagon understood that his children would be raised Mandalorian. It was close to the way Zabraki culture was. Clans, fighting, it made sense for the most part. Even though he had parted he had parted ways with his family, Dagon knew Ro couldn't do that.

He had been officially introduced to most of the Awaud clan when Ro had graduated, Dagon threw a little get together in honor of his riduur and the only people on Ro's must invite list was his family. They had a bond that went closer than blood and Dagon knew his clan of two needed to do.

He moved the clan of two back to Arumorut, using the ship that Nejaa and Kaiyah brought to move the stuff that Dagon couldn't or wouldn't sell, Ro never seemed to hold on to much.

Ro was furious, initially. Dagon had plans, big plans, to be a designer and he was right at the cusp of finally getting his own line. Moving back to Arumorut would be a step back for his career or end it entirely. In Ro's mind, he could at least play security while Dagon chased his dreams and then they could settle down wherever. It didn't matter to Ro as long as he got to see his family regularly, somewhere Mid or Outer Rim, he didn't want to be too far in case of an emergency.

The move ended up being the best thing to happen to them, not a month after settling in Kaiyah brought home a little Twi'lek girl. She couldn't have been older than five, but with her malnutrition it was hard to guess and she didn't know. She didn't even have a name and barely spoke Huttese.

They named her Tann, for hope.

A year later, while debating on putting their names with an adoption agency now that The New Republic existed and Ro could get his record expunged since his Rebel activities were no longer deemed as 'treason' or 'terrorism', the twins fell in their laps. A woman had shoved the babies on Jax, who was working on a bounty at the time, she said she couldn't take care of them and knew that the Mandalorians could. Jax didn't have a soulmate at the time and knew that the Donetta-Awauds were thinking about adopting again, so he asked if they would like to add the Zabraki twins to their family. The boys couldn't have been more than a few months old, their skin was more pink than the vibrant red it now was.

Kato, for Dagon's father. Even if they didn't talk he still liked the name.

Ellis, for Ro's buir. It was her clan name before she joined Kai.

Ro knew he made the right choice when Kai-buir cried. It sounded terrible at the time, like he enjoyed making his father cry, but it was such a relief to find out that he could. That Kai wasn't entirely gone, just not always there.

Ro still asks Dagon if he regretted it. Losing his fashion line, being a boring tailor to people who didn't really need a tailor. On those days Dagon holds Ro closer, his chin resting on his Mandalorian's head, "Never. Not once. I've never been happier than when I'm with you. 'Boring tailor' and all. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyare."

^ Ro in his full armor. Isn't he a handsome boy?

Translations & Other Headcanons:

Ryma: Ryl, mother

Kora: Ryl, father

Buir: Mando'a, parent

Kai-buir: Mando'a, masc parents typically go by the first three letters of their name followed by 'buir'. The Donetta-Awaud children don't really follow this rule since they have one Buir and one Edalinare (Zabraki, family).

Ba'buir: Mando'a, grandparent

I headcannon Ro as a doctor who did all the bookwork, but never the internships which I believe is eight-ish years of school? Correct me if I'm wrong I just wanted to keep the timeline in some kind of order for myself (leaving Arumorut at sixteen + eight years of school leaves Ro somewhere near 24 when they have Tann, 25 for the twins). I also know that half the stuff Ro does in Arumorut a unlicensed doctor could never do in real life, but in his mind it got him close enough to what he wanted to do, hence the joke about 'not a doctor but close enough'. He was pretty over med school, honestly. Besides, he learned the good stuff from Nejaa (who is nowhere near doctor status, think closer to field medic/EMT who has Seen Some Shit).

Riduur: Mando'a, spouse

Tann: Ryl, hope

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyare: Mando'a, I know you forever, beloved.

In my brain, Dagon is like 6'4", 6'5"-ish and Ro is a short king comparatively coming in at a hot 5'8", 5'9" (he swears up and down he's a solid 5'10". He's not.) Ro is almost always little spoon and doesn't mind it one bit.

I feel like I need to add a disclaimer: did I accidentally create Numa and her uncle with Tann and Ro? Yes, yes I did. Do I really care at this point? No, because it makes moodboards easy. Numa and her family belong to Disney and Lucasfilms, I did not create them and I don't want anyone to think I did. That arc plus the fact she shows up in Rebels makes me cry.

#mandalorian oc #star wars oc #ro donetta awaud #dagon donetta awaud #tann donetta awaud #kato donetta awaud #ellis donetta awaud

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