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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 · 2 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

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lonelyvomit · 15 days ago

Text

gonna do a long ramble about the past 2 weeks aka possibly the most stressful time I've had in a decade simply cus I need to word vomit, not cus yall necessarily need the info. tldr Lucifer is slowly getting better. merry shitscram yall 🖤

CW for pet illness, pet death & fear of it, obvs vet/medical stuff, and ALL OF THE TUMMY ISSUES JFC

so it's exactly 2 weeks since Lucifer started showing symptoms that he was in pain, specifically his tummy. so next day we went over to my parents cus my anxiety was convoncing me he was dying and I needed another pair of eyes on him and a voice of reason to calm me down. I switched him to more tummy friendly diet. day 2 we got an oil to help his constipation, but he kept getting worse, so day 3, friday, I called a vet, gave him a different constipation med they recommended, the vet said it didn't sound like an emergency, so we could wait and see if the second med would work later, but if I wanted an appointment they'd fit us in. I scheduled it just to be sure. I felt crazy, because I know I tend to catastrophize a lot and that losing our family husky just 3 weeks earlier had me on edge, but I knew I'd be off my shits if I didn't make sure it wasn't anything serious. thank fuck I went with my gut.

one extremely cruel truth however is that I cant afford vet visits. that's my worst failure as an owner I suppose - my income is 500€ a month, so after food and bills there's nothing left. so I always avoid vets if possible (Lucifer is terrified of strangers tho so most of the time that works great for him too, no unnecessary anxiety trips), because the sad truth is that if it's serious enough to need a vet, there's a high chance it's serious enough that I cant afford the treatment. so at this point I felt I was flipping a 50/50 coin, we were gonna go in, find out what was wrong, and whether there was anything to be done about it and if my family could afford it, or if I was going in to put my baby to forever sleep. needless to say I bawled my eyes out that morning for hours.

we got to the vet, they did some tests, gave him an enema, said it did seem like a tummy issue but we couldn't rule out foreign object without an x-ray. the entire time the vet or nurse never seemed too worried and said we'd do whatever I wanted, and I was worried about the costs, but again, I needed to be sure, for my anxiety. thank fucking god, again.

we took the x-rays. clear foreign object. thankfully, still in his tummy - could be possible to get out without a full surgery. the vet called a bigger clinic that was actually able to do the procedure and sent us on our way.

at this point I'm clutching my baby boy who's been trembling from pain for days, now trembles from anxiety from all the stange people sticking stuff up his butt, and also hates car rides which we obvs had to make, with the tiniest bit of hope restored. we knew what was wrong, and there was a possible way to help that we could afford. but we weren't out of the woods, cus if they cant get the object out that way, the only other option was full open surgery - that we could not afford, and would have to opt for euthanasia. do you know how much I would've hated myself if we had to put my boy down cus he ate a piece of something wrong and there was a way to fix it but I couldn't afford it? I was clutching onto the bit of hope I had with every fiber of my being, fully aware that if things would go wrong, I was gonna fall hard. whatever.

second vet. the place is packed and busy, everyone wanting their pets checked before holidays. people in and out. I was there to hold my boy as they gave him the first shot of anethesia to put him to sleep and then they took him to the back for the procedure. I was back in the waiting room. people kept coming in, but suddenly no one was leaving. the nurses weren't bringing other pets out, and someone asked. they were told things got a bit delayed because "there was a patient that proved to be a little more complicated than expected."

40 minutes later a nurse comes to me in the waiting room, forehead covered in sweat, and goes "we got it out. but what a chore!"

I went to get my boy when the anethesia wore out. they told us the hard plastic had done some damage to his stomach lining and gave us prescription meds to help. they were now extra busy, so we got basically no other guidance, and left home.

next 3 days were still bad, but slowly better. but the meds made Lucifer sick every time, and the dosage for a 5kg/11lbs dog being the same as adult human felt insane, so we reduced them a little. we stuck to what was generally considered a tummy friendly diet for a dog - rice and chicken, unseasoned. we put it through a blender with plenty of water and basically fed him soup. Lucifer was doing better - I wasn't, cus the mattress we slept on gave me the worst back pain of my life and I literally couldn't walk for couple of days, but WHATEVER. my boy was better, that's what mattered.

we felt ready to go home, so morning of tuesday 17th we did. that day was good. the next wasn't. the second night at home was a nightmare. Lucifer was constipated and in a lot of pain again, and I had forgotten the constipation meds at my parents. my dad brought the meds on thursday morning at 6am, but Lucifer was doing significantly worse again, so we went back to my parents. that's also when we realized that 1. the meds he was on that kept making him sick had a constipating side effect, and 2. the "tummy friendly" diet we had him on included no fiber. we fucked this up. we switched up his diet and finally decided to try dropping the meds, as they always gave him a pain attack when he had to take it but didn't seem to provide much help the way they were supposed to. we gave him constipation meds, again.

the next day was good. the day after that he had explosive diarrhea. good lord. drop the constipation meds. followed by slow but steady progress, lots of talk and theories about the best possible diet as it seems the procedure was more rough than we were told. Lucifer keeps coughing - did the tools damage his throat or did he catch a kennel cough? we still don't know. mum's trying to prep xmas, we're missing a tree cus they were supposed to go fetch one the weekend right after Lucifer's procedure so didn't. steady progress over several days, so we manage to arrange xmas on the side.

today we celebrated xmas. Lucifer had bit of a worse day than yesterday again, but bearable, and my nephew was coming to stay for a night and cant stand Lucifer, so we're back home for now. Lucifer is asleep, as he's used to sleeping 15 hours a day & only watching me, and now has had to keep an eye on both of my parents & my brothers and their girlfriends visiting, and has slept half the usual amount for the past 2 weeks. he still has a pain attack after he eats most of the time & sometimes randomly, but they're much shorter and less severe than before, and between them he's his old playful happy self. he has lost over 800g/1.5lbs and his bones stick out uncomfortably, but we're doing our best to give him as much energy as we can while he still struggles to eat. my parents paid the 800€ vet bill that I will be paying back to the best of my ability, but that ability isn't great. I still don't know what tomorrow will bring and if he gets worse we'll go back to my parents, but I'm taking every pain free, peaceful moment as a victory. my parents have been just as involved in helping my boy's recovery & most importantly keeping me from catastrophizing everything and bawling my eyes out on the daily. my dad has started babying Lucifer too lmao as if he wasn't spoiled enough between me and my mum yet. my back still doesn't like the "home > 5 nights on a mattress > 2 at home > 5 on mattress > ? at home" switching, but I'm living with it. rn my priority is to do whatever helps Lucifer.

I'm so tired, still stressing, cant afford my bills, but I know we'll be alright.

#this is really long lmao

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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 · 7 months ago

Text

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 · 20 days 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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flowercrowncrip · 2 years ago

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whats the worst encounter of ableism you've had, online or irl?

whats the funniest encounter of ableism you've had, online or irl?

whats something you see thats overhyped in regards to disability or cripplepunk?

do you have an ideal mobility aid or ideal disability aid in general?

feel free to skip any/all :)

cw: suicide, ableism,

1-The worst encounter of ableism I've experienced was from a psychiatric nurse my GP referred me to during a mental health crisis. I told the nurse that I was having thoughts about ending my life and he told me that he felt sorry for me because my physical disability meant my life would never be worth living. Obviously "you're doomed to feel this way forever" isn't a safe thing to say to someone trying to get help during a mental health crisis. If he could have done more to help me end my life I think he would have, and this is one of the reasons I'm so afraid of the risks around assisted suicide for disabled people.

I feel the need to add that several years on from that appointment I'm so happy that I'm alive. I've had 15 months of therapy and I'm on meds that work for me, I have the right support and equipment to manage my conditions, an extremely fulfilling job, and an amazing support network. My disability is worse than it was back then but I feel so much more content with my life.

2- The funniest example of ableism is more a story of ableism in the sense that no one had thought properly about disabled access. Only the result was that me and some other students accidentally broke into a nightclub.

I was at uni making a video with a group of disabled students for disability history month. We were filming in the student media centre which was on the first floor of a shared building. On the ground floor and basement there was a nightclub. All of the organisations shared a lift.

So we go up the lift while the nightclub is selling tickets during the day, but in the time it took for us to finish filming, the nightclub had closed and locked up. We didn't know this, so just took the lift back down when we wanted to leave. Immediately as we stepped out the lift, the burglar alarm went off.

It was the loudest thing I have ever heard in my life. It was so loud that it was totally impossible to think. All we could do was try to get away as quickly as we could so we went to the doors, which were obviously locked.

So we went back up in the lift away from the noise to figure out what to do next. We called the campus security and tried to explain what was happening but they didn't seem to get it. Eventually they told us that they were heading over our way anyway (because of the alarm) and would check in on us when they came.

When they arrived they were knocking on the lift door convinced that we were stuck in there. When we said we were stuck in the building, not the lift they didn't get it.

They looked at us, a group of disabled people including someone with a cane, someone using crutches and me, very obviously a wheelchair user, and told us if we couldn't take the lift we could "just take the stairs".

I had to awkwardly point out that wheelchairs don't go do down stairs at which point they became very embarrassed (which I won't lie was quite funny)

In the end we had to wait an hour or so for the owner of the nightclub to drive up to campus with the keys and alarm codes and it was all fine.

3- I think that the value of independence is overhyped everywhere, including in disabled spaces. I've seen a lot of disabled people state that they're somehow better than other disabled people who they view as less independent than them. Relying on mobility aids, medications, carers, family members benefits and other supports don't make you less strong, less deserving or less anything.

I really struggled with my own feelings around this when I was a teenager. I found it so hard to ask for help because I thought it made me a "bad disabled person", and seeing that insecurity reflected back at me from other disabled people online only reenforced it.

4- My ideal mobility aid would be a fully waterproof electric wheelchair. I'd love the sensation of rain or hail in my face without being stressed about my chair. Or be able to go to the beach along one of those mat things and into the sea.

#suicide mention #ableism

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maii-mia · 11 months ago

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Please help me get away from my abusive family.

I'm in desperate need for help and advice. I'm from Egypt, going to be 22 in March, and I'm currently stuck in a really abusive family situation in which my worth is based on my uni results.

My (quick and condensed) backstory is that since I was very young I've been raised to be a doctor, I've always been a good student even ranking top 3 in my school and working my hardest despite being a victim of continued SA which, amongst other things, led me to be very suicidal and start to self harm, but being good in school was one of the things I could control and which made me feel acknowledged by my parents so I tried my hardest to keep up my grades. When it comes to Egypt the points you get with your diploma are going to be what will determine which uni you'll be able to join, and to get in a public med uni you'd have to get +98% while instead I got 94,7%. From here on everything started to get much worse with my family and I heard so much verbal abuse that completely destroyed the remaining self worth I had, even after I was already manipulated into thinking I could be a doctor or nothing. Because of my family thinking of me as an "investment", my grandpa decided to pay for my uni tuition, which my parents wouldn't have been able to afford, and just like that I entered a private uni for pharmacy, because 95% was the minimum acceptance for med so I couldn't go towards that path regardless. I had no choice but to accept my grandpa's money and start uni regardless because no other option was given to me with my parents telling me I would've been an embarrassment for the family in front of everyone if I didn't. Even though I was doing horribly mental health wise and I felt completely trapped I did what I thought I had to do and did my best in uni and passed the first semester even though I could tell immediately that the courses weren't for me and I was having a really hard time following, unfortunately in the second semester everything got much harder and I didn't pass two subjects no matter how hard I tried. I thought the world was falling directly on my shoulders and I didn't know what to do, I was afraid of telling my family because of my own safety and because I felt like a disappointment, and even more because you have to pay for summer course and to retake the exams and I knew they wouldn't have had the money, which I'm aware isn't my responsibility because I wasn't given an option but in abusive situations everything is made to be your fault. I was completely stuck just trying to survive so I didn't say anything and I entered second year and I took the subjects I didn't pass as an off semester subjects alongside with the ones that were already part of the first semester of the second year. Unfortunately that year I lost my grandma because of covid and everything just kept getting worse, my family wasn't doing well because of her passing and I was already doing horribly and struggling, after I kept failing subjects and didn't say anything because now along with the problems already existing I also felt guilty to add to my grandma's passing. Before the second semester of the second year started I got robbed while coming back from uni and I think my brain just shut down from then because I was just too overwhelmed and I got even more suicidal, I stopped going to uni without saying anything and I would just hide in the roof, of course that couldn't keep me safe forever but I wasn't in my right mind at all. When my parents found out things somehow just got even worse, there was so much crying and shouting and verbal and physical abuse and I stayed in bed for 3 days from shock, from then my parents just keep giving me ultimatums not because they want to give me more chances but just because they're ashamed of me and I just don't know what to do anymore, I am not in the right state of mind and I am afraid for my safety, I don't know how to survive anymore in this same cycle and unfortunately I just can't just start passing subjects with something I was forced to study that I find impossible to learn especially when I'm this low.

Currently I got the results from this semester and I failed 2 subjects while passing 3, it's just a matter of time before before they find out and I am so scared for my safety and what they will do to me, especially my dad and grandpa. I have no one to ask here and I've just been talking about this with my internet friend and trying to brainstorm what I could do, would asking for donations/opening a fund help in any way for me to get out of here? Or at least buy myself some time? I would have to open a bank account for that to happen first though. I don't know what to do which is why I'm trying anything and I made this account to ask here too, please any advice would be welcomed

I’m desperate to reach anyone that could help in any way, here are other platforms in which you can find me/boost my posts: reddit / tiktok / instagram

#abuse #abusive family #egypt #asking for advice #donations #signal boost #please help #help #boost #emergency

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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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bangguks · 2 years ago

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Hi! 💜

I'll use this space here like a diary page. Just a reminder of what was going on in life. A couple months ago I tried to do one, but I was in such a bad place and I realize I didn't want to ever remember the details of it again. At the beginning of last year I got a job, a good job, doing what I love the most. In one year I was promoted 2 times, professionally it was more than I had hoped for. The thing is that place was making me sick.

In the office room it was me plus 15 men. I've heard the nastiest things in this past year. Never directly at me, but I was fitted in their jokes. If I recorded them I could sue the company for sure. Prejudice, sexism, racism, homophobia, pedophilia, animal cruelty, whatever is bad and criminal I've heard, as joke. "They don't really mean what they said, they're good people", sure...

I was mentally ill, then physically. I was taking meds to sleep, I was eating horribly and losing weight, I was not a good company anymore, for I was always sad, with such a heavy energy, I really got into the darkest place a person can reach. There a not many friends around and I moved away from my family for this job, they are not much help anyways, as much as I said that I needed help they just kept saying "it will get better". And to think that all of that was for money, yk.

It's been 4 months since I'm looking for something else, and the "no's" are exhaustive too. So I asked for some days off in a chance to take my mind of it all. The thing is, when I came back it was like an avalanche, everything that made me sick was still there, my condition was their fault. So I couldn't take anymore and asked to quit.

My plan right now it's not the best, but it took me out of there. And I got say, the minute I signed my resignation letter I felt lighter, a smile from ear to ear appeared, not bothering one bit if those people are going to hate me now, good, let them know what they did.

So I oppened tumblr after so long and it reminded me how much this helped me, it was fun, it was my therapy and I always knew, but I had no strenght to do it anymore.

I'm working on putting my life back on track, without those dementors I know it'll work. And I want to be back here, even if no ones sees. But because it makes me happy.

Gotta say, even in the darkest places I could find a little happines with BTS, crazy thing to think about it, hard to explain, but it is what it is. I'll be forever grateful, even if not in the same intensity, but I'll always be rooting for them and for us, armys💜

#me #personal #venting #long text

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bitchy-peachy · 9 months 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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ghostofasecretary · 1 year ago

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i upped my dose of focus meds in October because i was having A Bad Time getting things done. also then Nakba 2.0 started at the same time i switched over and i have been bowled over with grief and shame and nervous energy to take action and more grief

(i was part of a local movement that recently helped stop a "we uncritically support Israel" statement from going forward in the city council, which is probably not very meaningful but i do think it's better than the alternative, so, yay?)

and i have just been feeling. SO shit lately. i have had 5 days from October 7th to now (5/40 days) where i only did one or two things worth recording in my planner, and only 2 from August 27th-October 6th (2/40 days). there were a few extra days in the pre-switch times where i only did 3 things but i don't think i felt so shit then???

and like. i have had great things in the last month-and-change! i have a new class, i've met some cool people, i've had some good social interactions.

i have also been thinking "i want to die" and "i wish i were dead" WAY MORE OFTEN in the past few weeks than i remember thinking previously. i had some rough days during my hellish job situation but was pretty firmly in "being alive is great and i love it, i'm so glad i'm alive" from March to August this year, i think?? so it's kinda scary to be back to "i wish i could sleep forever" and "if i were dead i wouldn't have to feel so bad" and "oh kill me already"

also i have been taking my PRN anxiety meds waaaaaay more than baseline in the last month. the baseline is 0. i got them in December and, though i needed them then, couldn't take them till January, and in January and February i took them rarely, and then i maaaaybe took them once between March and August but certainly not more.

earlier this year i was like "huh, i really don't think i have general anxiety anymore, just PTSD symptoms after major triggers and the occasional hard time with ADHD symptom management" and today i woke up from a nightmare about my shitty ex visiting me (!?) and--i will spare the details but it sucked ass, and plus it took me *twenty minutes* with *another person helping me* to text someone back today and like. some help with unusually stressful communications is normal but i knew i needed help with this as of 3pm yesterday and did not ask for help till, like, 3pm today. which i don't...think?? is normal for me??

oh god i just remembered another crushing anvil of a contact i haven't replied to, fuck my LIFE

i feel like i have the emotional self-awareness of a bug right now

(please no one suggest therapy i think it would make my life much worse actually and though it may look like i have no clue what's happening inside of me, you certainly have less of a clue)

but also, like, there are some unusual stressors. there's a genocide happening. i've seen a lot more dead bodies in the past month than i usually do. the normal number of dead bodies i see is none. ditto the number of injured people covered in the dust of their bombed homes. and it's The Dark Time as of 12 days ago. my whole family was sick and i had to avoid them for most of October. i have no income and grad school deadlines are approaching and both of those facts are bone chilling.

but i think that my meds may be making my anxiety worse and also making my likelihood to have suicidal thoughts a lot higher. i think.

so i probably need to lower my meds.

even though they *have* helped me focus when i can snap out of the hours long borderline-catatonic dread i get locked in and actually do work i need to focus for

it's. maybe not worth it. probably not worth it. it is genuinely hard to tell

(and like--i requested an upped dosage BECAUSE i was really struggling! and having a hard time doing things! and didn't feel like i could focus. and i felt really bad!! but maybe objectively the anxiety and increased-wanting-to-die are bigger and that outweighs the potential benefits)

(like. i don't think i was having *zero* suicidal ideation before the med increase but i think it was. less? i remember the first "oh shit that's not normal" was before one of my Tuesday calls and. hm. i think it was in October that this started. October 17th or maybe even the 24th? though my mental health has been trending down since August, more generally.

trying to figure out how much current events may be impacting me. covid didn't make me suicidal? --actually it kinda did but i had also just been assaulted and had no routine and a ton of pressure and grief and it was a much worse time for me than this. and most of those thoughts were concentrated in a 5 day period of frantic sleepless essay writing. this situation is like. grief that isn't about me. a degree of shame i think is reasonable to feel. not "i am the worst person on earth" just "i am ashamed to be part of the world that enables this horror and ashamed to be from the only country in the world frothing at the mouth to support it." despairing at how many people have been killed and at how slow anyone is to stop it. i am sad about all that a lot and sorrow doesn't make anyone fast or mega productive, but this major historical event touches me a lot less directly than covid? so maybe it's not actually a good comparison point. i would certainly be happier if Israel (and the US) stopped attacking hospitals and destroying critical infrastructure and trying to erase Palestine and Palestinians from existence)

i remember we tried lowering my dose of antidepressants earlier in the summer because i'd been Feeling Peppy the week i was forced to go off of them, but that did not help. when was that? did that start me getting crazier?? i have no clue

1 day in 8 is a lot more days lost than 1 day in 20. i should probably switch my dose back and suffer through it.

in conclusion: gratgkrhejrisjdkskskekzARGH

i'm gonna go cook

#feelings sorting #personal #ghost speaks #i'm warning for suicidal ideation and nothing else. author chooses not to use content warnings about their own life read at your own risk ig

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orange-plum · 3 years ago

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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 · 3 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! 👇👇👇

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#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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