#i will also stab my old psychologist for being like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

error151filenotfound · 3 years ago

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Mind Games

Summary: You and Loki always had a flirty relationship even if you were an Avenger and one of his brothers best friends. During the battle of Sakaar Loki did something you never would’ve expected.

He kissed you.

Now back on the former ship of the Grandmaster you tease the young God about it and propose a friendly little mind game all with the hopes of him staying

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I watch the colours of the sky and stars slowly pass as the ship moves through space. It was beautiful and strange, familiar but also foreign.

A content sigh escapes my lips as I wander over to the vanity where I had placed a few of my items from Sakaar.

Loki's knife glints in the florescent lights. I pick it up twirling it between my fingers thinking back to when we were on the battlefield. Back to when I saved him, pulling him close to stop one of Hela’s undead minions from stabbing him.

I blasted the enemy away unaware of the way the raven haired man was looking at me until he grabbed my face pulling me flush against him and pressing his lips to mine. It was quick, only lasting a moment but it felt like forever.

His lips were soft yet firm against mine, he had pulled away before I had a moment to comprehend what had happened thanking me before running off.

I sigh looking away from the knife as the door behind me slides open. I glance back at the God of Mischief that stands behind me, although he’s looking forward his eyes don’t meet mine, he looks to be slightly dazed.

He has a small smile on his face. Small but genuine.

"Good afternoon" I say turning to face him fully never stopping twirling the knife, "or is it evening. I can't actually tell without the sun" I mutter looking out the window again.

"Thor said maybe I'm not that bad". He says it quietly and casually but the context speaks volumes. He looks up at me properly for the first time since he entered the room, "who would've thought".

"Of course you're not that bad Loki" I scoff making my way towards him. "You created this illusion that you like all the villainy and the murder but in reality" I say pointing the knife at him for dramatic effect, "you just like the drama".

"We shared one intimate moment agent you can't possibly know anything about my thoughts or motivations" he refutes but never denies my claim, swatting the knife away and walking over to a small couch in the room. He flops down onto it surprisingly gracefully watching and waiting for my response.

"No but being a trained psychologist does". I smile walking towards him and taking a seat on the table in front of the couch as he rolls his eyes.

"What does that have to do with anything".

"It means darling-", I begin leaning in close to him until we are only a couple centimetres apart, "-I can read you like a book".

"And I can simply read your mind" he retorts with a wicked grin, "no silly degree needed".

"That's cheating" I laugh.

"God of Mischief, not God of Fair play remember"

"More like God of taking the easy route and never earning it" I taunt pulling away from him and walking over to the dresser. I set the knife down watching him from the mirror.

"I could earn it" he counters, his reflection standing up and walking over to me slowly, "if I wanted to".

"Then prove it" I challenge turning around it face him. "Gods live forever or at least for a thousand and something years, I'll be kicking around hopefully till I'm ninety so prove it. Stick around and show me you can get into my head the old fashioned way".

My offer is met with perplex expression but slowly he cracks another smile, this one softer. "My dear Y/N you don't think I'll stick around do you?".

The room becomes heavy as he waits for me to reply.

"God of Mischief remember. Who knows what you'll get up too in the new Asgard". A desperate play to elevate the tension building from his question but it works.

"You Agent have an extraordinary ability to twist my words for your own purpose" he laughs stepping back from me shaking his head slightly.

"And if you stick around you'll have sixty odd years to figure out why" I grin leaning against the dresser.

"any other benefits of sticking around. You might have to sweeten the deal here, why should I be so interested in your mind" he asks raising his eyebrow.

"Well" I say tapping my chin as though to think, "sticking around would make your brother happy. Get some good quality bonding time with your bro. Get to hang out with your second favourite Avenger, Bruce, maybe even join the new Valkyries B is setting up. And of course the personal satisfaction of getting to know what makes yours truly tick" I list of my smirk growing with every point.

"Ooh the last one sounds promising what was it again" he grins stepping closer to me again.

I pretend to try and remember, "Personal satisfaction from knowing what makes me tick I believe".

"Ah yes personal satisfaction" he hums placing his hands on either side on me, trapping me on the dresser. "Any other type of satisfaction involved in the deal?". There's a mischievous glint in his eye and a wicked smile on his lips as he asks.

"I'm sure we can figure something out" I whisper, my breath catching my my throat as I watch him licks his lips.

He begins to lean forward. The icy coolness that surrounds him causing my skin to prickle and goosebumps to form but I swear I’d be colder if I was on the sun. I feel as though I’m on fire as I mirror his actions. Moving closer and closer until our lips are only a hair apart and our breath it one.

“Y/N!” a voice roars bursting into the room and bursting mine and Lokis moment wide open.

“For the love of Odin! Get a room!" B groans turning away from us.

"Apologies but is this not her room" Loki asks sarcasm dripping from each word. He pulls away allowing me to hop off the dresser.

"What is it?" I ask concerned. B looks out of breath, shaken. Odd for the usually cool Valkyrie.

"The ships under attack. Thor needs you on the bridge now" she says running back out the door. Loki and I look at each other alarm in our eyes before we follow her out.

#marvel #mcu #loki #loki laufesyon x reader #loki odinson #yn #thor ragnarok #thor odinson #valkyrie #bruce banner #superhero #avangers

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offender42085 · 3 years ago

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Andrew Vrba, Missouri inmate 1358102, born 1999, incarcerated at age 21, sentenced to 20 years to life

Murder

A Texas County man was sentenced to life without parole for the 2017 murder of a transgender teen.

Vrba is the fourth and final co-defendant found guilty in the killing of 17-year-old Ally Steinfeld.

Vrba previously had confessed to stabbing Steinfeld on Sept. 20 2017, in Texas County, six days after Steinfeld's family reported the teen missing and before law enforcement realized Steinfeld was dead.

Vrba was found guilty of first-degree murder and armed criminal action in a bench trial in August.

Steinfeld was referred to by her birth name and as a male in court and throughout court documents. But according to Steinfeld's public Facebook and Instagram accounts, she was a transgender woman and had transitioned to using the name Ally Lee Steinfeld before her death. Steinfeld had also talked to her family about being transgender, her sister told the News-Leader in 2017.

In her victim's impact statement at the sentencing hearing, Steinfeld's mom Amber Boswell sobbed.

"My son said that (Vrba) was the only best guy friend he ever had," Boswell said. "I miss my son every day."

Vrba, wearing jailhouse scrubs, appeared to be watching the video screen intently.

"It turned my whole world into a pure nightmare," Boswell said. "My son was so nice and innocent. He didn't have a mean bone in his body."

Vrba's mother Ozell Spicer was in the courtroom and also addressed the judge.

"I loved this boy since before he was born," Spicer said. "I'll always love him. I'll always support him."

"I wake up every day — this is a nightmare. I wish it never happened," Spicer said. "I am so sorry to (Steinfeld's) family. I know he did nothing to deserve it."

For the first time since his trial began, Vrba addressed the court. He spoke to Steinfeld's family.

"There is no amount of times I could say sorry," Vrba said. "I loved him as a brother."

"I regret it every day," he said. "I promise you I'm sorry."

Vrba was accompanied in court by his attorneys Tom Jacquinot with the Capital Division of Missouri State Public Defenders, and Devon Pasley.

Prior to the Judge handing down the sentence, Jacquinot called psychologist Dr. Lauren Richerson to testify about brain development and Vrba's ADHD diagnosis.

Richerson explained that a person's brain is not fully developed until the age of 24 The prefrontal cortex which controls judgement and decision making is the last part of the brain to develop, Richerson said.

Asked if she believes an 18-year-old criminal offender presents "a greater potential for rehabilitation than an adult at 24 with a fully developed brain," Richerson said yes. Education would have more impact on the 18-year-old, she said. Vrba was 18 when Steinfeld was killed. Richerson testified that Vrba is diagnosed with ADHD and that "impulsivity is a hallmark of ADHD."

Jacquinot asked Richerson if she saw evidence of Vrba's disability and "impulsivity" in the interrogation tapes.

"Yes. I do not recall instances of calm deliberate responding," she said. "This is speculation, but it appears to me he wanted approval, social approval."

Texas County Prosecutor Parke Stevens asked Richerson how much the defense has paid her.

About $10,000, she said.

Jacquinot asked the Judge to rule that a life sentence without parole for Vrba is a violation of the Eighth Amendment (the Cruel and Unusual Punishments Clause). "The punishment is disproportionate and fundamentally unfair," Jacquinot said. "It is an extreme punishment."

Stevens reminded the Judge that the mandatory sentence for first-degree murder was created by the Missouri legislature and upheld by the Missouri Supreme Court.

"I don't like the statute," the Judge said. "In the end, you follow the law."

"The statute is there. I don't agree with it," Holden said. "I know this sentence is disproportionate, but it is the sentence set down by the statute."

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sennsational · 3 years ago

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pairing : ghost!akaashi keiji x medium!reader

genre : ghost!au (?), angst, hurt/comfort, horror (kinda,but not rlly lmao)

words : 4.8K

synopsis : Y/n has always been able to see ghosts, that is why they decided to become a medium. Nakamura Haruto, the owner of Villa Fukuro, asked them to do a séance in the haunted mansion. There they meet one of the most ominous ghosts they have ever encountered. His name? Akaashi Keiji.

tw : mention of death, blood, stab wound, creepy ghost and cursing

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thank you bb ana @justanawolf for letting me participate with your monster’s lab collab event ! I had a lot of fun writing ghost akaashi and I hope you, as well as ur lovely flowers, will enjoy this 💕 I recommend y’all to listen to this playlist from @/selena (it’s also available on yt !) I listened to this playlist while writing the story and I feel like it really captures the mood/vibe well 💗

tysm bby @beautifulblhell for wanting to beta, much love 💗💗

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Have you ever seen a ghost in real life?

Chances are, you answered me ‘’no’’, with a mixed expression of confusion and scepticism. To be fair, I couldn’t blame you.

You see, different people around the world have their own thoughts and beliefs on ghosts. Some believe they are real and some don’t. For me however, ghosts have always been a big part of my life.

I've been able to see ghosts since the age of 8 years-old. Honestly speaking, I can't quite remember a day without seeing them after my 8th birthday.

When I was younger, most people thought I was going through a phase of making up imaginary friends, being an only child and all. However, after a couple of years when I turned 18 and was still talking to these ‘imaginary friends’, I overheard my parents talking to a psychologist through the phone.

They sounded worried and almost frightened, thinking how I should have gone past the ‘phase’ already by now. That was the moment I realized that I was the only one who was able to see these ‘entities’, the ones I've been seeing all these years.

I still remember when the realization hit me and how it brought shivers through my core.

The thing is, these entities, or ghosts if you will, won’t communicate with me. As a matter of fact, they won’t even acknowledge the fact that I can see them. Even now that I'm currently 21-years-old. They know that I notice their existence, and they still won’t grace me with a single “hello” or a nod of the head. Instead, I only get complete silence or, quite literally, the cold shoulder.

I've also come to terms with the fact that I will most likely never be able to get rid of the ability to see ghosts.

You may be wondering what these ghosts look like, and well, the answer depends on which type of ghost we’re talking about.

Some ghosts, the ones which I call the ‘good ghosts’, are individuals who have died without bearing any malicious intent. They look just like you and me and most of the time, they don’t even realize that they’re dead.

Pretty clueless if you ask me.

I started noticing certain patterns to tell them apart from the living. They would be a bit distant from humans, or you'd see them trying to talk to people who wouldn't even notice them.

Some of them could tell I was different, but as I’ve already mentioned, they don’t acknowledge my existence. They all have their own reasons, but what those reasons are is still a question for me.

Then we have the ‘bad ghosts’ or entities. They like to disguise themselves as people or animals we are least afraid of, like children or small animals. Most of these ghosts kind of resemble humans, but there are some features that make it evidently clear that they’re not.

They’re dressed in all black, much taller and much thinner than us, with red eyes or in some cases, no eyes. Their faces and bodies are also most of the time remarkably distorted and all in all, they give off a tremendously terrifying aura.

Anyway, back to the present. I made a profession out of my ability. You see, I work as a local medium and paranormal investigator in Tokyo. Recently, I was asked to take a look at the supposedly haunted mansion; ‘Villa Fukuro’ in Hinohara, a village located in the western part of Tokyo prefecture.

Many individuals that have visited the mansion couldn’t last inside for more than 3 hours, before dashing outside in panic and pure terror.

Real estate agents have tried numerous times to sell the mansion, but each time the owners moved out after a week at most of living there. They all claimed that the mansion is haunted.

Other inhabitants of the village have said similar things, going as far as to claim that the mansion has a very ominous and grim aura surrounding it.

Before I went to investigate the location, I did some research as to what had happened in the past to make this mansion as haunted as people claim it to be.

Various old articles, dating as late as the eighteenth century, explained the same kind of story. The story goes as follows:

“In the middle of the eighteenth century, waves of violence flooded the Japanese countryside. Hordes of unscrupulous thugs plundered and set fire to our peaceful lands.

They called themselves “The Fukurōdani riders”, after shadowy air spirits, who, according to a myth, sat on barn owls twice their own size and roamed the dark night skies, even able to penetrate locked houses.

They say that their eyes give light in the dark, and that they are so quick, that fate strikes you like thunder.

The myth tells that this diabolical army of Fukurōdani met its end in a gruesome battle, high up in the heavens above Mount Mīto. For sixty years, the gang exercised a true reign of terror over the rural population. Their demonic guild symbol, a barn owl, filled everyone with fear and dread.”

Reading these old articles brings me cold shivers running through my body, and that is saying a lot, as I have seen many peculiar and grim things in the 21 years I have been walking on this earth.

Once I arrived at Villa Fukuro I met Nakamura Haruto, the recent owner of the mansion and also the one who has contacted me. He stood outside the enormous mansion, cane in hand and a gentle smile on his face.

“Hello Nakamura-san, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is y/n,” I held out my hand for the old man to shake, who, by the looks of it, was probably around his seventies.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, kid. Thank you for coming to help me out on such a short notice,” Nakamura said, taking my hand in his in a firm shake.

“Please, it’s no worries at all. If you don’t mind, could you tell me about the hauntings of Villa Fukuro?” I asked, while we walked up to the entrance of the mansion.

He opened up the door and held out his hand as an indication for me to enter first, then closing the door promptly behind us.

“Well, the most prominent ghost who resides in this mansion is a young-man in his twenties, named Akaashi Keiji,” Nakamura said while leading me through the first section of the mansion, which was the very spacious living room.

“Akaashi Keiji was one of the men back then who joined the vicious pack of robbers, called the ‘Fukurōdani riders’ or ‘Fukurōdani’ for short. Have you heard about them?” he asked when he turned around to face me.

The gaze of Nakamura was very intimidating, and I had to take a gulp before letting out a hesitant “yes”.

“Keiji was a man without compassion, possessed of unbridled greed and covetousness for money. Heart being as cold as stone.” Nakamura said, while taking out what seems like an old photo book from the antique bookshelf.

“However, he wasn’t always like that. He actually used to be such a kind, polite and gentle soul, yet nobody knows what has happened to him for such a drastic change to take place,” Nakamura said as he showed me a picture of Akaashi.

When looking at Akaashi’s picture, he didn’t strike me as a menace to society. If anything, he seemed broken. His eyes held no light in them, almost soulless. Face sunken out and no smile gracing his features.

I felt for him. My heart ached for what he had gone through, almost forgetting the terror and turmoil he had left in his wake.

Nakamura put the book back inside the bookshelf and waved me over to the stairs, presumably to the bedrooms.

When walking up the stairs, I couldn’t help but notice how every step made a creaking sound. The mansion itself felt quite cold to the touch, and I zipped up my jacket to my chin.

The interior of the mansion is very outdated and everything was dark. Nothing special catched my eye. The ghosts or entities didn’t show themselves at the moment, but I could feel their presence.

Some of them were curious of who I am, essentially a stranger who entered their domain. However, there was one spirit who felt almost ominous, and it seriously didn't approve of my presence.

It felt like, whatever this entity is, was watching us closely. Observing every move. It brought uneasiness within me, with another feeling I haven’t felt that much before. The feeling of something grim, bringing anxiety and terror in its wake, and it knows.

Nakamura opened up one of the many doors in the corridor that let us inside to the master bedroom. The bedroom wasn’t adorned by a good deal of furniture, only the basics of the basics were present. There was a large double bed, that could honestly fit four people inside, a drawer and a desk.

‘’This is Keiji’s bedroom,’’ Nakamura said.

As if he sensed that I was about to ask him why he’s referring to the bedroom in present tense, he opened his mouth again.

‘’Since Keiji is still present in this house, I let him have his comfort space. He may be a mad lad, but I won’t take away what is his.’’

Nodding my head, I made myself comfortable on the floor and pulled out my equipment. I placed the device in front of me and put it on.

We waited for something, anything to happen, but to no avail. It was still daylight out, and most bad entities make themselves known during 3:00 am, most commonly known as devil’s hour.

I left the device on the floor and made my way to the bed, taking a deep breath before laying down on it and closing my eyes.

‘’Nakamura-san, if you don’t mind. I would like to get as much rest as needed to be able to perform a séance tonight. Is it okay if I stay inside of Akaashi’s room, so he can get familiar with me?’’ I asked, eyes still closed.

‘’Kid, you do know that Keiji isn’t a nice ghost, right?’’ Nakamura asked wearily, most probably feeling a tad bit weirded out by my request.

‘’I’m aware, Nakamura-san. I’ve been feeling Akaashi’s presence the moment I stepped foot inside the mansion.’’

Nakamura was still feeling skeptical, but ultimately relented and he left the room.

The moment I closed my eyes and gave my body the permission to rest, I was transported into a dream. I was standing in front of an eighteenth century style shop, when I suddenly heard commotion coming from the square and decided to head towards the sound.

There, I saw onlookers watching someone preparing a gallows. In the corner of my eye I saw a young man, no older than in his twenties. He looked familiar. I kept staring at his face until the realization finally hit me. This man is Akaashi Keiji.

I hurried to the corner of the alley, where Akaashi was talking to another person of his age. I heard Akaashi muttering that he was not going home, whereupon his best friend, Bokuto Kōtarō, from what I could remember from the preliminary research I had done, offered Akaashi to come and work with him at the inn. Akaashi rather refrains from doing so, given his facial expression that clearly shows dislike.

Then, a figure with a wig, silk clothes and a large money bag on his belt comes down the other side of the alley. I saw something in Akaashi’s eyes change when he saw the money bag of the other man, and before I knew it, Akaashi steals it from the man. He throws the money bag to Bokuto when he hears the patron accuse him of theft. The two man run away, while the patron shouts at them that they will be hanged if he gets his hands on them.

I didn’t even have to run after them, my own dream transports me to their location. Both Akaashi and Bokuto were trying to catch their breath when suddenly another man with grey hair and a walking stick joined them.

The old man introduces himself as Yamiji Takeyuki, the leader of Fukurōdani, and he congratulates them both on their deed, as he’s offering them to teach them the trade. Akaashi agrees, while Bokuto denies the man's offer.

That was the moment I woke up. I tried to catch my breath as I reached for the light switch of the night-light beside my bed and switched it on.

The room was still dark, despite the light coming from the nightlight. The only sound that could be heard was the rustle of the wind outside.

I reached for my phone and looked at the time. 02:45 am it said. Another 15 minutes before the séance would begin.

I slid out of the covers and made the bed, before making myself comfortable again on the floor. I turned on the device and waited for the clock to strike 3:00 am.

While I waited, I thought back to the dream I had or more like Akaashi’s flashbacks. The man didn’t have an easy life back then, and even though I don’t condone his actions, I could understand why he did it.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to reset my mind and prepare myself for the séance.

However, when the clock strikes 3:00 am, I immediately felt a very, very dark presence directly in front of me. I opened my eyes and was met with two black hollows, where his eyes should be, staring right back at me.

I flinched away and tried to keep my breathing steady. The figure in front of me kind of resembled Akaashi, but there were some particular features that really felt and looked disturbing.

His mouth turned upwards in a sinister looking smile, both outsides of his mouth almost touching each ear. His skin was gray-looking, and he still wore the same clothes from the dream I had. His whole body distorted and moved in a very unnatural manner. His neck looks crooked, as if it was broken and from the many articles I read, that may be true.

He felt different from any other spirit I’ve met or came across before, they almost never acknowledged my existence, but he did. It feels like he’s enjoying my presence, not for the conviviality, but for the fright and pain he could inflict on me.

I tried not to show my fear, but I know that he can feel it, almost smell it even.

He finally took a step back and looked at me with his two empty sockets of ‘eyes’, his smile still very much evident on his face. He was at least two heads taller than me.

I let out a small, hesitant cough, before I spoke.

‘’Hello Akaashi-san. I think that you are aware that I can see you. Can you tell me something about yourself?’’

Akaashi’s smile widened even more, more so than humanly possible, granted he isn’t a human to begin with. His teeth were sharp, like knives that could easily cut anything it touches.

‘’Hmm, quite the curious cat, aren’t we? Let me be blunt here: I don’t like your presence here in my room, and I want you to be gone, either willingly or forcefully. Your choice, darling.’’

‘’I can’t do that. I won’t leave without the answers I’m seeking,’’ I say determinately.

Akaashi did not seem to like my answer and in a matter of seconds he was all up in my face again, smile getting even more sinister.

His long, slender fingers held my neck hostage in a vice grip. I felt him squeeze my throat more and more tightly as the seconds ticked by, while scrutinizing my every move. I held on though, as I tried to grasp for air.

He slammed my head against the wall behind me, as he still held onto my throat. He used his pointy finger to lightly graze my cheek, before I felt his long black nail dig into my skin.

Blood dripped down my cheek, but that was the least of my worries now. I still couldn’t catch a breath and black dots began to cloud my vision.

“And why the hell would I grant any wishes of the likes of you?! Just because you’re able to see me, doesn’t mean I will act like your mindless puppet.” he hissed menacingly, next to my ear.

Then, he suddenly let go of my throat and I fell to the floor, trying to catch as much air back in my lungs as I could.

He arc backwards and walked on both his hands and feet to the corner of the room. He then crawled up the wall to the ceiling, his back faced towards me.

His head then slowly turned 180 degrees as his gaze focused on me. He was staring again, with those black pools of his. Waiting for any reaction from me, any movement.

When I finally felt like I gathered enough air back into my lungs, I tried to stand up, but the hit earlier against my head made me feel dizzy and I fell down to the floor.

“P-p-please, Akaashi-san. I can help you. I will help you get your freedom back. I promise.” I said earnestly, while still trying to get my bearings back.

Akaashi pondered. His smile was still as sinister as ever, but for a split second I could swear that I saw a light coming from his hollow eyes.

His arm elongated, and his pointy finger came towards me. I tried not to back away out of instinct and I felt him touch my forehead. That was when I realized he had sent me back to his past again.

I could see the journey of Akaashi’s successes to become the best and most notorious within Fukurōdani.

How he robbed houses of thousands of innocent people, taking all their belongings and eventually killing the inhabitants. Then, he and his crew would set the house on fire and fly away on their barn owl, in search of their next victim.

It played out before my eyes in speedrun, until it all slowed down at once to the normal speed.

Akaashi was talking to the man I saw before, Yamiji Takeyuki, who was now laying in bed, looking very pale and sick.

“Akaashi, we are in dire need of more money. I don’t have that much longer anymore and I must find a new successor for Fukurōdani. I have a particular liking for you as well as for Konoha Akinori, one of you shall become the new leader of the Fukurōdani riders,” Yamiji spoke.

Akaashi looked at him with a mixed expression of confusion and offendedment.

“With all due respect, Yamiji-senpai. I am far more fit to be the new leader of Fukurōdani, than Konoha. I am way better at bringing in money and I am way more calculated. If anything, I am your best bet.”

“Akaashi, listen to me. I do not doubt your abilities, but Konoha is also a force to be reckoned with. You will both get the chance to prove your worth as a true successor of Fukurōdani.”

And with that, I was sent to an inn. It looked like both Akaashi and Konoha were busy filling up their pockets with golden ducats. That was, until another familiar face entered the inn.

It was Bokuto, Akaashi’s best friend back then, who had denied the offer to join Fukurōdani. He was wearing a black cloak with his hood up, supposedly because of the rain.

Seeing how the inn was getting robbed, Bokuto didn’t hesitate and seized Konoha’s knife. He tried to stab him in the back, but Akaashi was faster and prevented him from doing so.

The two got into a fight.

Akaashi got the upperhand for a second and used it to strike Bokuto in the stomach with his knife. Bokuto stood there, staring Akaashi in the eyes. A look of betrayal crossing his features.

Akaashi let out a gasp as he stared back into the once happy golden orbs of his best friend, before Bokuto’s body fell down to the floor with a loud ‘thud’. A pool of his own blood surrounded him.

“Bokuto…” Akaashi whispered in shock. When the realization completely hits him, he immediately bends down to sit next to Bokuto’s injured body.

“No. no, no, no. KŌTARŌ, NO!! I DIDN’T MEAN TO!! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE, YOU HEAR ME??!!” he screamed out, trying desperately to put pressure on Bokuto’s stomach to stop the bleeding, but to no avail.

Bokuto coughed, blood spilling from the side of his mouth. His eyes were still staring at Akaashi.

“K-kei-ji, wh-y…?” Those were his last words as his eyes lost its life, the last teardrop rolling down his cheek.

Akaashi sat numbly next to Bokuto’s lifeless body, trying to process what just had happened, before he himself broke down in uncontrollable sobs. Only then did Akaashi realize that he had killed his best friend.

I felt my own tears rolling down my cheek as everything got black again and I was teleported to the next day.

I see Akaashi staring thoughtfully, but also solemnly at the ground. At the same time, I see Konoha walking to Akaashi as he stands next to him and bends down to his ear.

“Little Akaashi, killing even his best friend to get what he wants, huh? How pathetic. It’s also a pity that the sacrifice of the dumbass is going to waste, because I will be the new successor of Fukurōdani.” he whispers, while letting out a sickening laugh.

Akaashi immediately grabbed a hold of his knife and held it against Konoha’s neck, backing him up against the wall.

“One more word from you and it will be your last, you dirty piece of shit.” he hissed back and with that, Akaashi left the room and took his horse.

He had something else to deal with.

With his horse, Akaashi took off to one of the shrines at the beginning point of Mount Mīto. He knew that this particular shrine contains very precious belongings. Offers the inhabitants of Hinohara brought to pay respect to the gods.

Akaashi didn’t care about the gods. They haven’t granted him anything good or useful during the time he’s wandering around earth. He had to do everything by himself, defend himself from people who wanted to bring him misfortune and harm. It didn’t matter how many times he prayed to the gods to stop those fuckers from trying to beat him up, he always ended up with bruises, scrapes or even broken bones.

Akaashi took everything that could fit inside his bag, until he felt a slender hand touching his shoulder. He immediately drew out his knife and pointed it to the presence behind him.

The slender hand belonged to a woman in a long robe, surrounded by blue-white light. The woman looked somewhat familiar and he realized it was a kitsune in human form, the protector of this shrine.

“You shall get punished if you so desire to take anything away from the Holy Gods. If you cross the shrine’s entrance, you shall invoke a curse on thyself.”

Akaashi did not listen. His mind was so clouded by rage, guilt and grief that he didn’t even comprehend anything the kitsune had told him just now.

He took everything his bag could hold and left the shrine on his horse, back to his home. At that moment, he brought down the curse on himself.

When Akaashi came back to his home, the house where all the Fukurōdani riders recides, Villa Fukuro, did he unload all the goods he stole.

However, thunder struck and all the lights went out. He felt a coldness run through his body and an eerie sound of a whistle going around the room.

Suddenly, the living room began to spin. He felt his head getting dizzier and his body getting weaker, as if his energy and lifeforce were getting sucked out of him. Thousands, maybe even millions of electric shocks ran through his body, until he couldn’t take the pain anymore and collapsed on the floor.

Everything went black and when I opened my eyes again, did I realize that I’m back in Akaashi’s bedroom.

‘’Nowhere in your own house, nor in the world, will you find rest or peace, now that you have violated the God's house. Only then, when a noble person with the clear conscience of a newborn child enters your dwelling place, will you find peace in your house and in your heart,’’ Akaashi whispered.

He wasn’t hanging on the ceiling any more, but back down on the floor in the corner of the room. His head bowed down, making him almost look miserable, if anything. Quite the contrast from before.

‘’Is that the curse the kitsune from your past put on you?’’ I asked hesitantly.

He gave me a nod and I continued.

‘’I understand some of the things you did. You didn’t have a choice back then. It was either to steal or to die in hunger. However, you took innocent lives, even the life of your own best friend.’’

I saw a tear rolling down his cheek, which is quite unusual for a good ghost to do, let alone a bad entity like him.

‘’You didn’t mean to kill your best friend, didn’t you?’’ I asked, while taking the risk of walking closer to him.

Each step felt heavier than the other, making it a challenge to cross the short distance to him, but I was determined, so I kept going, until I was only one step away from him.

‘’I-I didn’t mean to kill him. He tried to strike Konoha at the time and I didn’t know he was the ‘opponent’, standing before me. I would’ve never killed Bokuto if I knew it was him, I swear.’’

At this point, Akaashi was stuttering and sobbing. His body shook uncontrollably. One look at his face made me let out a gasp. The black hollows that were supposedly his ‘eyes’ were changing back into his real eyes. Irises the colour of cerulean blue, shining and glistening due to the tears that kept coming out of them.

His neck, mouth and body changed back to the way they used to be, but there was still a faint scar going around his neck. A clear indication of what he had done to himself.

‘’I wouldn’t have killed all those innocent people if they didn’t treat us ‘lowlifes’ so badly. I was jealous and money hungry. Now I just want to find peace and go away from this house, to go back to my best friend. I want to be free again.’’ he said, while looking me in the eyes.

His expression felt so sincere, so different from when I first met him. I couldn’t help but to engulf him in a tight hug, my own tears rolling down my face as well.

I felt him stiffen up in my hold, before he hesitantly wrapped his arms around my form as he hugged me back.

‘’Go Keiji. Go find the peace you have been longing for all these years. You have repented long enough for your sins. Go find Bokuto. I’m giving you permission to find the peace in your heart and to move on to the heavens,” I whispered to him.

White smoke and blue lightning surrounded us both, but we still wouldn’t let go of each other. Only when I felt his body slowly fade away, did I loosen my grip. He did the same as he gave me one of his genuine smiles, and I couldn’t help my own smile forming on my lips.

‘’Thank you, y/n. For everything.’’

Those were his last words before he faded away into thin air. The sun shone through the curtains, and you heard the birds chirping, signalling that it was already morning.

The Villa didn’t harbour any negative energy any more, and I felt grateful to be able to have helped Akaashi find the peace he so desperately sought out.

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reblogs and comments are appreciated !

[a/n] : fun fact - this story is inspired by a dutch urban legend, but ofc changed by moi to fit the general theme

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝓐𝓾𝓻𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓐𝓼𝔂𝓵𝓾𝓶: 𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚖𝚎��𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟹𝙺

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚄

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I breathed out an airy and desolate sigh through my nose, obviously I unconsciously did it a little too loud as the raven haired male sitting across from me looked down at the floor.

"It was all my fault.....wasn't it?"

I looked up, the glasses sitting on my nose bridge tilting slightly that I had to push them back up so I could study his features, or should I say, his expressions. His eyelids never blinked once, his eyes were trained on the pattern of the carpet underneath him, but I knew his mind was elsewhere. I looked with pity at the bandages wrapped around his wrists, some of the edges stained with fresh blood. I gulped slightly, my stomach threatening to spill out my meager lunch of an apple and avocado toast slice from earlier. I could handle hearing patients tell and retell me about how they stabbed their parents to death, cut off their significant other's genitals because they were unloyal to them, even tackled a deranged lunatic that once tried to...... seduce me to put mildly.......

But to this day, I can't help but get dizzy when I treat or deal with patients who are self harming victims, because yes, they are victims. Victims of their own self loathing, guilt, and depressive state that isn't their fault. It just pains me so much to see them resort to such drastic measures...

But I'm also not stupid and know some, if not most only do it for attention or to manipulate others, and Yunho is a case not far from it. Which is why I was the one sent to deal with him. All the other psychologists would have fallen for his sad puppy eyes, good looks, well built physique and would have released him too early into the world. Not that he's dangerous and a threat to society, but he's not emotionally nor mentally stable to go deal with daily life yet. And I'm not a softie by any means even if I'm patient and meek doctor when necessary. But I'm objective and I seek deeper into the true person hiding behind the front they put in front of me.

"Do you believe it was your fault Yunho?" Usually one would get scolded for answering a question with a question, but I prefer this method in order to get my patients to reason and draw out their own conclusions......

And makes them pour out their true answers.

I watch Yunho ponder for a moment.

"It has to be- otherwise she wouldn't have...wouldn't have-"

He bites back a choked sob, teeth tightening and gritting against themselves as he fails to contain his tears. His hands cover his face as he begins to cry uncontrollably, desperate and heartwrenching wails resonating throughout the 4 walls keeping us company. Reaching for the purple plaid box on the coffee table between us, I take out a few tissues and stand up from my seat. Lightly tapping on his shoulder, I whisper a 'here' to him. He thanks me, but since he's crying too hard no sound comes out his throat. For the next few minutes, he's blowing out his runny nose, all red just like his eyes from crying too hard. He's sniffling while trying to control his previous hyperventilating session. I want to hug him or at least give him a pat in the back. But I can't, I can only sit back and try to imagine the agony he's probably going through, try to put myself in his shoes as I dive deep into the event that got him here in the first place:

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Coming back from a trip to the store, Yunho momentarily looks around confused when he heard his baby daughter crying. Quickly putting the bags on the kitchen counter, he makes his way over to the nursery that adjoined the main bedroom. Calling out for his wife, he receives no response as he walks down the hallway. He calls once more for her but stops midway as he opens the slightly ajar door. His heart stops beating and his veins run cold as he stares into the lifeless body of his beloved wife hanging in the room, feeling as if the oxygen is being ripped out from his lungs, suffocating slowly.

As if sensing his agitation, his daughter's cries from the other room grow louder, so much that they raise concern from their next door neighbor, a kind and sweet old lady who more than once has offered her help in watching over the child or help them out in any way she could. Typing in the passcode, she makes it there just in time to stop the tall male from inflicting more harm upon himself as he holds onto his wife's body in agony. Having been left with no choice, she immediately calls for an ambulance, who arrive there shortly and take him to a nearby hospital.

He was monitored 24/7 as he had a history of attempted suicide before. The nurses and doctors didn't want another episode to happen again, not wanting to leave a barely 1 year old fatherless as well as motherless. As an investigation went, police found a journal hidden deep between the mattresses on the bed. When they poured over the first pages, they knew there was much more to the story than just a doting husband who couldn't live without his wife, hence why he was relocated to the infamous asylum......

And a specialized woman was tasked to not only unmask the truth, but hopefully help a poor broken mind be put back together again.

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Hence why I'm here now, the folder I had read over and over again still on my lap. It honestly amazed me that I'd actually get to work on a case like this, and of course I took up the challenge of digging into a mind like Yunho's, not just to help him, but to leave a precedent for any other situations like this that came after.

"A precedent?" I remember the officer asking me.

"Yes. You'd be surprised just how common these types of toxic relationships there are in an everyday basis yet no one ever looks deeper because they're too focused treating a depressed person who's trying to kill themselves and don't focus on what they really are...."

Shutting the folder, I tucked it under my arm before turning on my heel.

"A manipulative individual who'll do anything to keep someone tied to them forever."

That's how I viewed Yunho, it's how I should be viewing him. At least until I could hopefully get him to change.

"How's......is my daughter ok?"

I let out a soft hum and nod as I scribbled something down on the notepad.

"She's fine. We're having someone take care of her in the meantime, don't worry."

Yunho let out a sigh of relief, fingers fidgeting against his thighs as he mustered up the courage to say something.

"Could I.....could I please see her?"

From the sad look in my eyes he could already tell the answer was negative.

"I'm sorry Yunho....I'm afraid until we see some improvement, we can't allow you to be reunited with her just yet."

I tried to keep my voice steady as I said that, bracing myself to possibly see him breakdown once more. He had already lost his wife and now learning that his only child was forced away from him could possibly send him spiraling down into another episode.

But Yunho instead took a deep breath and seemed calm.

"I understand.....it's ok..." I knew he was saying those last two words more to himself than to me.

Lifting his face up, he suddenly shocked me by looking so bright and rather happy.

"So I guess it's best if we begin right?"

Even to this day, I don't know whether I should have been delighted to have such a compliant patient.....

Or terrified.

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"Tell me Yunho, what was your first reaction when you saw your wife?"

A subtle hint of a smile curled at the corners of his lips.

"I thought she was the kindest and most caring person in the world, very pretty too. She just walked in and the room instantly lit up."

He was reminiscing about those times, I could tell. That fond look on his face was unmistakable.

"Do you believe you fell in love at first sight with her?"

His smile suddenly dissipated, eyebrows scrunching together as if recollecting memories from so long ago.

"I think.......I felt attracted to her.....but.....I don't think it was love?"

I could tell he felt conflicted with himself, but that's exactly what I wanted. I want him to question every feeling and sensation he felt at the moment so he could decide for himself if it was real or just a mere illusion he held. If he starts to second guess or question what he felt then he'd start reasoning and come to the conclusion that what he felt was wrong and mistaken. He'd see that his actions weren't justified.

"So when do you truly believe you fell in love with her?"

I stopped writing on my notepad and watched him close his eyes as he tried to pinpoint the exact time he felt whatever he thought was love.

"One night....one of our friends was feeling down in spirits. I witnessed how caring she was towards them...kindly reassuring them that they were loved, that they mattered. I vividly remember her kind eyes and loving smile as she comforted them. Then it hit me that she was that kind of person. Selfless, caring, doting, would sacrifice anything for her friends and family...... it was hard for anyone not to fall in love with her."

He turned his hand over, studying the wedding ring that he still wore to this day, the engravings of their initials being his prime interest.

"And at that moment I knew I had to have her. I couldn't let anyone else have her. I wanted her.... that love, compassion, empathy..her confidence and strong nature, I wanted-"

He stopped mid sentence and his eyes wizened in horror as he came to the realization I had foreseen long ago. He looked up at me, meeting my unwavering eyes that held no emotion at that moment.

"She had all the qualities I had always lacked in."

I took my glasses off and nodded.

"And I unconsciously wanted them for myself.... but the only way I could have them was...through her?" He seemed sickened with himself.

"Not exactly Yunho. You could have learnt to love yourself and raise your self esteem." I quickly scribbled my observation down.

"But I didn't. Instead I caged her up and slowly tore her down."

I couldn't help but let out an involuntary smile as he drew out that conclusion.

"Glad to know you've accepted that fact, even if it took several months for you to understand."

Shutting the notepad, I lifted myself up from my chair, straightening my blouse. Yunho followed suit.

"Is our session over?" He was always so polite, always escorting me out and holding the door open for me, which other doctors would have adamantly refused, too scared to come close to their patients. But not me. I let them have certain liberties at times.

"Not yet Yunho. As you've made remarkable progress, I got permission for you to see someone."

He was momentarily confused for a split second. Poor thing probably thought it was one of the nurses coming in to give him some new medication to take, which he hated with a passion. Stepping outside for a brief moment, I happily took the young baby in my arms, the little girl already used to seeing me as I always went to go see her after being with Yunho for a few hours. When I came back inside he had his back turned to me, once again staring off into nowhere. The light gurgled babbles the baby emitted caught his attention immediately. He whipped his head around so fast I thought he'd break his neck for a second. He teared up as the child began squealing in excitement as she recognized her father right away.

"Oh my-" He choked up with tears that he couldn't finish his sentence.

I calmly walked over to him, lightly bouncing the baby in my arms. Yunho hesitantly reached his hands out.

"Can I..?" He had such a hopeful glint in his eyes.

I didn't answer, I merely held his daughter out to him. As soon as she felt his embrace, she latched onto him as if he was one of the teddy bears she often slept with. Perhaps he was one.

No....he is one.

In my time of spending time with Yunho, I've come to strongly believe he is a sweet and tender individual. And judging by the way the little girl feels safe in his arms, I do believe he is capable of being truly loved.....

If he learns how to properly love not just someone else, but himself too.

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Stepping out of my car, I quickly grab the small pink bag on the passenger seat before locking it. Treading through the small patch of green grass, I ring the doorbell and wait for one of the occupants to open up for me. No surprise, I'm greeted by the same raven haired male I met nearly 3 years ago. He looks delighted to see me.

"Y/N. Hi!"

I wave at him, a small but genuine smile on my features.

"Hi Yunho. Did I come at a bad time?" I notice the apron covered in flour and leftover egg on it.

"Oh no not at all. Please come in."

Moving aside to let me pass, my nose catches the scent of baked goods filling the air. I can distinctly recognize the hints of lavender and french vanilla, an odd but surprisingly tasty combination. I spot out of the corner of my eye a little head peeking out from the kitchen, curious to know who had come to pay them a visit. Letting out a squeal, she quickly ran over to attach herself on my leg.

"Y/N!"

I chuckled and lightly run my fingers through her hair which was longer than the last time I saw it.

"Hi Jina, I see you've been baking something." We both chuckle as I scraped off some cake batter that had gotten on the tip of her button nose.

"Me and dad are making cupcakes for my friend's birthday party tomorrow." She explained.

"Wow that's a really nice gesture. I bet they'll turn out delicious."

Remembering that I was short on time and that I had one last task to carry out, I pull out the bag I had hidden behind my back and hand it to her.

"It's for you."

Her eyes began to sparkle so much they could rival all the stars in the galaxy. After thanking me like 20 thousand times, she plopped her tiny body on the couch to tear into the contents inside it. I shake my head before taking out a small paper from inside my trench coat.

"And this is for you."

Taking the slip from my fingers, Yunho opens it up and scans what it says. He seems confused for a moment, not fully understanding what it means. He looks to me once more, probably for the last time, asking for an explanation.

"It's your official release from the institution. No more drop in visits, no more eyes on you 24/7, and soon you won't have to continue with the prescribed medication, although when that happens they will send someone once in a while to check up and make sure you're ok without them."

Yunho nods but it is a rather sad and pained nod.

"So this means you won't be seeing us any longer?"

I inhale deeply and nod.

"This was a temporary thing until you got better Yunho. After all....I was only the doctor assigned to you."

It hurt me to say that as much as it probably hurt him, as much as it'd hurt Jina to know I wouldn't be coming back anymore.

"Can't we at least be friends?"

I hated seeing those puppy eyes of him practically beg me, signature trait he passed on to his daughter.

"That would be completely unprofessional of my part Yunho. I deeply cherish and treasure all the time we spent together and I'm beyond happy and satisfied that you've come so far since the start of our journey..."

I sighed deeply.

"But every journey has an end." He finished my sentence.

Extending his hand out to me, I took it and gave it a firm shake.

"I'm really going to miss you." He admitted.

"Me too. Me too."

Going over to the momentarily forgotten 4 year old, she let out an 'oof' when she suddenly found herself cooped up in my embrace.

"Take care of yourself and of your dad ok?"

I kissed the top of her head, her grinning face not registering that this might be the last time she ever saw me. Yunho walked me out the door and even escorted me all the way to my car. Always the gentleman, he held the door open for me. Before I could even get one foot inside, I felt a large hand grip my wrist. Turning to him, I was flustered when he suddenly pulled me close to him.

"Please don't leave. I need you....I..."

He looked conflicted with himself as he tried to finish his words. Taking a deep breath, he confessed:

"I love you."

My heart sank. He said the 3 words I hoped he'd never direct at me. Mainly because I was scared as he was. Don't get me wrong, Yunho is a wonderful man, and he truly deserves to be loved....

But am I certain that he has finally learned to love? Or is it because he feels he needs me?........

Only one way to find out.

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years ago

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yeah so, I'm just interested in the mater of what do you parents have for you now, when you're an adult and can live alone and do whatever the heck you want? I mean, they can't force you to live with them now, right? or if they find you they will terrorize you till you move back or some shit like that? (I'm again sorry if that triggers you, I just try to wrap my mind around the whole situation of yours :c)

Well, I was threatened growing up (I’m talking 4 years old) by a grandfather I’d never met that he would kidnap me and my parents would never find me. Seriously, the police in my town were on standby and my school had rules to not let us out near the gates (us being me and my brother) — that’s one psychopath to date.

He also sent me and my brother locks of his hair in envelopes for Christmas once, but that’s an entirely different layer of WTF — I’ve never met this man btw. Don’t think I want to.

Then there was my father, who used to beat my mother, and a clinical psychologist warned us vaguely of those stories where fathers would break in, kill the mothers and then take the kids and drive off a cliff. She also told us to get a restraining order in the same sentence.

Then there’s my brother, who used to try and stab me with kitchen knives when angry. ‘Nuff said.

My mother… Idek what’s wrong with her, but she killed my dog.

I guess I just really, really don’t want to be killed? Which seems fair? I don’t even know how to explain it. I don’t know, to be honest my brain hasn’t had a chance to catch up with it all yet, as it’s been one shit storm after another.

I’m just trying to give myself a chance at a normal life, you know? Which is why they don’t know where I am and why I want to keep it that way and why I definitely can’t go back to where I’m from.

ANYWHOOOOO I work on fixing 125 year old steam trains now, which is pretty cool for being 20 years old myself XD

#it’s complicated I guess?#idk man shit’s whack #I never know how to explain it #they’re just fucked up #and I’m just a girl who’s hyperfixated on High Fantasy literature lmao

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thebestpartofwakingup · 3 years ago

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I don’t know if you’re still posting about thhpii or not but i am distraught at the idea of tom being a baby fur. had to look it up and it was a horrible experience, why do you think this? Im genuinely curious

Still a fan of the movie but it’s been years since I posted about it, and I believe I’ve grown into a less inflammatory person since then as have this site’s tastes in humor and ironic speculation or “fucking around”. I was about 17-19? When I posted that I believe and am currently 23 (yeah I know I need to update some shit)

But I can still take a stab at a proper less meme-y answer

Basically a notable portion of Tom’s obsession with Boomy gets projected onto his son, and there is at least one log describing Tom as wearing his son’s pajamas. There are also multiple instances of Tom attempting to hide things from his wife and from his family as well as his insecurity around his glasses and being perceived as ‘old’

(My apologies I am very lazy and don’t want to go back and find reference material at this time since it isn’t something I have on hand but it is something I may edit in later)

I’m not a psychologist but I think at the least Tom has some weird hang ups around age and maturity, and I think this could tie into his weird fixation on politics and power. I think Tom is emotionally immature and partially keen to this fact, but in a way that may leave him defensive. Boomy is obviously a piece of escapism for him and the family is in crisis, wanting to respond to said crisis by “running away” while also maintaining an aide of authority is an extremely immature thing to do.

Now being immature and a furry doesn’t make one a “baby fur” but his fixation on youth and aging is of note, as well as his reluctance to actually accept and take on his adult responsibilities without the self awareness or self confidence to alter that role. Tom doesn’t want to admit that he can’t help lead his family through this crisis, although Anne seems to be the primary force behind their response to Links disease, even when Tom doesn’t know what to do about Megan his response is to double down on a rhetoric of authority rather than admit his confusion and uncertainty.

I think then, for Boomy to not only be an escape for Tom from his day to day worries and responsibilities but his anxieties around aging and denial of his emotionally immaturity could point to Boomy being an escape from that which Tom associates specifically with being an adult, especially with how strongly he projects these feelings onto his son Jackson, who is also facing the same family crisis that Tom is but from the role of the responsibility-less young son. Argo this is less a fantasy escape for Tom along the lines of “this is stressing me out too much to deal with, I’m going to focus on Boomy to calm down and come back to this later” this is “this is stressing me out too much I don’t want to be the adult in this situation and Boomy helps me ignore that I am” and while a “baby fur” isn’t like a diagnosis-able condition I think that this psychological profile of Tom is one that would lend himself towards that behavior and community

#thhpii

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temilyrights · 4 years ago

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mother in hell

Summary: Jack Sloane x Reader. Your Mother comes to visit NCIS. The fallout is simultaneously what you expected and also everything but.

A/N: I've been working on this on and off for about a month? The ending is a little rushed and definitely less than perfect, but It's been nearly a month since I updated and I really wanted to give you something as for the next couple of months I'm definitely not going to be as active. I didn’t do a final read-through of this so apologies in advance. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated :) Enjoy!

TW: Asshole mother, mild homophobia if you squint, and anxiety.

Read on AO3

“So, what did you think?” You ask cautiously, feet shifting beneath you as you try to keep the hope simmering in your chest from taking over.

Today had gone a lot better than you expected. Your mother had been almost charming? kind? You weren’t really sure how to describe it, but it was a complete one-eighty to what you were used to. You’d already been prepared for the worst when she had stepped off the elevator and the first words that left her lips were “Orange walls...How very bold.” Her mouth curled in clear disgust. However, apart from a couple of jabs in your direction (‘Really Y/N, that’s what you wear to work? No wonder you’re still single.’) your mother had seemed absolutely smitten with the team. Gibbs and Tim especially (and god, you never wanted to see your mother flirting with Gibbs ever again).

“Agent Gibbs is lovely of course, and that Agent McGee is very smart. Did he mention he was married? If so that’s such a shame because I really do think the two of you-”

“He’s married.” You squirm, barely stopping your shiver of disgust as your eyes dart around to make sure none of the passing agents were listening. The last thing you needed was a rumour that you had a thing for Tim. No one seems to be paying you two any attention, so you return your focus to your mother, grateful for the semi-privacy being underneath the stairs had provided you. “So, you finally approve? You’re okay with my job?” You ask, not being able to resist the hope any longer.

“Oh god no.” She laughs, and your heart drops. Your smile instantly gone, as disappointment aches strongly in your chest. You really should be used to this by now. “I seriously think it’s time you stop running around playing action hero and get a proper job-”

You sigh, “This is a proper job.”

Your mother continues talking like she hasn’t heard you; “-Arthur is still looking for someone to fill that management position. You’d be perfect and the hours would be much more reasonable. You’d finally have time to start dating again, eventually settle down and have a family. It’s time, don’t you think? You’re getting too old for this.”

“But I’m happy where I am. Arthur’s business is dull, and I’d hate every second of working there. I love what I do, and I love the people I work with too.”

“Yes, that was very clear.” Your mother sniffs with distaste, her reproachful look enough to make you tense.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I noticed the way you were looking at that other woman. It’s completely inappropriate really, she’s got to be at least fifteen years older than you.” Your mouth drops open, cheeks flaming red. You quickly scan the space around to make sure she was nowhere to be seen. “And anyway, she’s much too pretty for you. Didn’t she say she was a psychologist? A much more suitable job. But, oh there’s absolutely no way the two of you could be anything. Her and Gibbs on the other hand, now that would be a beautiful couple.”

“Gibbs is like fifteen years older than Jack.” You mumble petulantly, cheeks burning bright with humiliation. You hadn’t expected your mother to pick up on your feelings for Jack, you’d been doing everything to ignore them yourself. Of course, she would though, and now she was going to find every insecurity you had and use it to prove exactly why you were so goddamn unlovable.

“Yes, but it’s a completely different situation really. This explains why you’ve been avoiding the dates I went through the hard work to set up for you. It’s awfully hard to sell your job to people Y/N, men don’t want a woman that isn’t interested in settling down. Anyway, this is the perfect time for you to start dating. Get you off the ridiculous notion of a relationship with that woman. Now, it might take some convincing, but Ben, you remember Ben, right? well, he’s newly single and I think the two of you could totally hit it off.”

“Mum, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m fine, I don’t-”

“Y/N, darling, you need to let that woman go. Don’t get offended, you are much too sensitive, and you know I only mean this in the best way possible, but this Jacqueline is really much too good for you. Now, maybe if you improve your wardrobe, and go to that hairdresser I’ve been recommending because honestly darling you’re looking a little drab.” Tears begin to ghost your eyes, but you make sure to hold them back as your mother stabs you with her words. “I always say the nurses must have swapped you at birth because there’s just no way any daughter of mine would leave the house looking like that. Your attempt at hiding those ugly dark circles under your eyes is dismal. Maybe if you just put more effort into your appearance then you’d stand a chance with Jacqueline, although then there’s the task of your personality because let us be honest, you are a little boring. You need to work on that, and then we could start on you being less guarded because how do you expect to find anyone if you don’t trust them. Honestly, Y/N, you are exhausting at times-”

“Hey! Don’t speak to her like that.” Your head snaps around to a very heated Jack who’s glaring daggers at your mother. Your cheeks burn even brighter with humiliation, and god, you’ve never wanted to disappear so much in your life.

“This is a private conversation, dear.” Your mother smiles, politeness not enough to hide her calculating gaze.

“That you’re having in a very public place. And for the record, I happen to think Y/N is pretty extraordinary.” Jack sends you a soft smile, and you know it’s meant to be comforting but it just makes everything so much worse because all you can think about is how your mother is going to make the next year of your life hell for this.

“Jack. It’s fine-”

“Y/N, shush,” your mother cuts you off, not even sparing you a glance as she glares at Jack. Your mouth clicks shut, and Jack sends you a look filled equally with concern and bewilderment which you have to quickly look away from. “Agent Sloane, was it?” She continues without waiting for a response. “You have somehow convinced my daughter that you care for her, adorable really, but I won’t have her gallivanting around after you. It’s fine time she settled down and started a family.”

Jack laughs. “Did we teleport back to the 1960s when I wasn’t looking? A woman can have goals other than getting married and having 2.5 children.”

“Spoken like a woman who’s spent her whole life alone. I’m assuming you’re not a mother?” Jack’s whole-body tenses. You still can’t look at her. Can’t stand to see her hurt, and no doubt a newfound hatred for you. You needed to get your mother as far away from Jack, and the Navy Yard, as quickly as possible.

“Mum. That’s enough.” Your voice is weaker than you’d like it to be, and your mother looks very unimpressed. “It’s time for you to go home.”

She laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Come on, we’ll finish this conversation later. I’ve got to get back to work anyway.”

“Fine.” She huffs, “but you are to meet Arthur for that interview.”

“Mum, I told you-”

“Y/N, this isn’t open for discussion.”

“Okay,” you sigh, head dropping with resignation “okay, fine.” From the corner of your eyes, you can see the incredulous look Jack is sending you, but you don’t dare turn your head. You wouldn’t take the job, there was no way, but you needed this all to be over. You needed to go home and pretend this day never happened.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Jack-” you sigh, but she just continues.

“No!” And now the passing agents were paying attention to your group. Your body shrinks in on itself, as your tears grow dangerously close to breaking free. Jack doesn’t notice, too consumed with her anger that’s completely directed at your mother. “You don’t get to tell her what to do. Y/N is a phenomenal agent. Her contribution to this team is crucial. She’s smart, compassionate, and beautiful. And, in spite of being brought up by you, is one of the kindest people I know. So, don’t you dare come in here and tell her she’s drab or boring or not good enough. You are a jealous, bitter old woman who brings your daughter down to make yourself feel better because you know you’ll never be as good as her.” Your mother's mouth drops open, cheeks flamed in humiliation. And if it weren’t for the fact your whole body was itching to run away, you’d have probably been captivated by the way Jack was defending you. “I suggest you leave, or I’ll have you dragged out by security.”

Your mother clicks her tongue, fingers tightening on her bag as she tries to keep herself composed. “Fine. Y/N, we will talk later.” And with one final reproachful look, she turns and walks away.

The other agents are all still watching you, faces contorted with either surprise or pity. Jack deflates, but you’re focused on Ellie, who’s standing just in your eye line, face full of sympathy, and the urge to throw up suddenly hits you.

“Hey,” Jack speaks softly, hand lighting brushing your forearm, and jolting you out of your eye contact with Ellie. Jack’s face is filled with concern, brows furrowed slightly in obvious confusion.

Swallowing roughly, you take a step away. “You shouldn’t have done that. I had it handled.” Your eyes flick back to the agents, most have now walked away but some were still looking with subtle interest. This was going to be the talk of the office for the next week. You needed to get the hell out of here.

The elevator dings, and you quickly jump into action, ducking your head to avoid watchful eyes as you briskly walk away.

“You had it handled?” Jack scoffs, falling in step beside you. You enter the elevator, and Jack follows, shooting a glare at the only other occupant in there who hastily exits. “She was berating you and you weren’t even trying to defend yourself!”

You sigh, hitting the button for Kasie’s lab, the best place to hide out for a while. “It was fine.” You lean against the wall of the elevator as it starts up and finally look back at Jack with a shrug. “It’s easier that way because now she’s going to mention this whole incident to everyone she knows, painting you as a villain, me as a coward, and her as the victim. I’m going to have to spend the next few months trying to do damage control.”

“I don’t care what she thinks or says about me,” Jack says, leaning over to flick the switch and bring the elevator to a standstill.

Sighing, you push yourself off the wall and make your way to the opposite side to put some space between the two of you, “Good for you, Jack, but I do.”

“Why? Because it’ll affect your new job opportunity?”

You roll your eyes. “Really? I’m not gonna take that stupid job. I meant what I said, I love it here.”

“Then why agree to an interview?”

“Because I needed her far away from you, and the Navy Yard and agreeing to the interview was the quickest way of making that happen.” You sigh, “Look, I appreciate what you were trying to do but I can fight my own battles and this one just wasn’t worth it.”

You catch Jack’s face contorting with pain before she can completely turn away. “Oh, okay. Good to know.” She flicks the switch, jolting the elevator back into action.

“Wait, Jack. I didn’t mean it like that.” You panic, quickly rushing to halt the elevator again. “I just meant,” you take a deep breath, blowing away your emotions before meeting Jack’s sad eyes. “What she said about me...it wasn’t completely off base. There was truth in it so there wasn’t any point in fighting her.”

Jack’s brows shoot up in disbelief, “Where was the truth? Because all I heard were cruel lies.”

“Jack,” You sigh, chuckling sadly as the tears you’d thought you’d warded off threaten to break free again. “Come on, She’s right. You’re too good for me. You’re this amazing, beautiful, talented woman and I’m just, well, me. And this isn’t some weird thing where I am looking for your pity or whatever. It’s fine, my mother was right-”

“Stop.”

“Jack, seriously, it’s fine-”

“No. Stop it.” Jack’s in front of you, invading your space in two steps.

“I-” You don’t get the chance to finish your sentence as Jack’s lips slam hard against yours. Your brain doesn’t fully comprehend what’s happening until she starts to pull away, the loss of her lips is what starts you back into action. You follow after them, capturing them with the same passion she had before she can form any words. Jack’s hand tightens in your hair as yours run down her arms before landing at her waist and pulling her closer into you.

“She was wrong,” Jack says between kisses “about everything.” You nod distractedly, your sole attention focused on her, on her mouth. You can’t quite believe this is happening.

You eventually separate, forehead’s rest against each other as your breath mixes together. Your thrashing heart begins to calm. Jack tucks a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers brushing your cheek before she steps back slightly. She speaks quietly, brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand why she’s still in your life. She makes you miserable.”

Shrugging, you sigh, not able to hold her eyes. “She’s my only family,” You don’t mention that the only reason that’s the case is that the rest of your family had cut your mother off years ago, and so, by extension you too. You swallow roughly, “And, I don’t want to be alone.”

Jack shakes her head, bringing a finger to your chin to guide you back to look at her, sadness shines bright in her eyes. “You aren’t alone. You have us, the team, we’re your family.”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, it just is.” You sigh, stepping back from Jack’s grip. You miss the contact instantly. “My mother may be...difficult,”

“Y/N, your mother isn’t just difficult, she’s horrible. Cruel. She can’t say those things to you!”

“And I can’t just cut her off! I can take the things she says about me, really, I’m used to them.”

“That’s not normal. You know that’s not normal, right? The only time you really stood up out there was when she said those things to me-”

“I’m so sorry about that.” You hastily cut in, grabbing her hand, eyes pleading for her to believe you. “She had absolutely no right.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jack says softly, squeezing your hand back to ensure you it’s okay. “You deserve better than her. I’m not saying cut her off, I know that’s difficult, just think about setting some boundaries.” Jack definitely wants to tell you to cut her off, that if she had it her way the woman would never again come within ten feet of you. She couldn’t believe how quickly you drew in on yourself when your mother had started talking. If anyone else had tried that...well, you wouldn’t have even given them the opportunity to.

“I’ll think about it,” Jack looks at you like she doesn’t believe you. “I promise. I know things can’t stay the same.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You nod, relief washing through you as you relax for the first time that day. Your eyes fall to your hand, still entangled with Jack’s and you can’t control the smile that tugs at your lips. “Guess my mother being here today did have one positive effect.”

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Guess so, although my plan to just ask you out for dinner would have been a lot less emotional.”

A grin takes over your face. “You were going to ask me out?”

“Actually, I still intend to. How about dinner, tonight?”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay then, it’s a date.” Jack leans in to press a kiss to your cheek but you turn your head at the last minute and capture her lips softly. Jack smiles but doesn’t pull away as her hand comes to stroke your cheek.

When you finally break apart, you’re a little breathless. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” She says, and you can only nod in agreement with a dorky smile. Jack looks at her watch, her own smile dropping slightly as she sighs. “We should probably get back to work.”

“Yeah…” You sigh, but you don’t make an attempt to move and neither does Jack. You don’t want this small moment of peace to end. The second you step out of the elevator there will be casework, and looks, and gossip.

“It’ll be okay. By tomorrow this will all be old news.” A smile tugs at your lips at her ability to always know where your mind has gone, and you nod.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do this.” Jack squeezes your hand one last time before dropping it and hitting the switch. You take a steadying breath as the elevator descends, focusing on the comfort of Jack standing next to you, and the excitement of the date tonight instead of the anxiety rushing through you.

“Relax.” Jack soothes, kissing your cheek. The elevator stops, doors opening, and she winks as she steps off. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“See you at seven.” You nod, watching her walk away. The second she leaves your eye line, you fall back into the elevator wall, no longer able to keep the wide smile from your face.

A date.

You were going on a date with Jacqueline Sloane.

#jack sloane x reader #jack sloane #jacqueline sloane #ncis #writing #fanfiction #mother in hell #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #reader insert #fem!reader #regal-roni #fanfic

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momoliee · 3 years ago

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Ch 43 and why I think xqc was both right and wrong for…what he said in those videos.

On why I think what he did can be justified :

Here we have to consider xqc’s background. Xqc’s parents were brutally murdered because of their line of work. As police officers, they were investigating a dangerous case and because of this case that they were investigating, they ended up being killed in a horrendous way. When they died, they left behind a 13 year old son and a 5 year old daughter, who neither had money nor relatives to take care of them. Their two kids had to suffer and go through a lot because their parents chose to not put into consideration the danger they were putting themselves in when they picked up the case. This, of course, traumatized xqc. He suddenly had to care for his sister, care for himself, make money to put food on the table, etc etc (I’ve already written a meta on this). It also gave him nightmares, seeing his beloved parents’ bodies crushed that way and all, and I dare say, Xqc might have suffered from a case of ptsd because of the incident.

So when he saw the video of Qin Ciyan being murdered, murdered because of his career and work, all his triggers were set off at once. Qin Ciyan, sacrificing everything for his line of work, Qin Ciyan leaving behind a daughter and a wife, Qin Ciyan being murdered in a very gore-y sort of way. It set off all his alarms, probably causing an immense shock that resulted in him taking a violent step backwards. He suddenly thought, the guy who killed Qin Ciyan was a mentally ill patient, and I deal with mentally ill patients all the time. What if I die like that too? Is this career worth it? Where would Xie Xue and my wife go if I’m gone? What will happen to them? Isn’t that exactly what happened to my parents? Aren’t I, too, putting myself in danger for my career even tho I have people who are dependent and reliant on me?

And so xqc treated that patient in the hospital the way he did. And he resigned the way he did. And he said all the words that he did. And he decided to cut off he yu the way he did. It was all…a trauma response. Trauma that he never properly healed and progressed and moved past, trauma that’s so bottled and stuffed in without any room to be let out, just suddenly coming out and biting him in the ass.

Now why I think everything he did and said was wrong, despite being justified :

First of all, mentally ill patients should never, ever, be demonized, treated as some sort of lowly animals that can’t be controlled, and especially not by a certified psychologist. As xqc himself once said, they are normal people who have been placed in abnormal environments and so had no choice but to develop a mindset that’s different from others. Of course, there are those who are BORN mentally ill, who are the way they are from the moment they came out of the womb.

Here is the thing tho : all mentally ill patients are victims. They are victims of their own disorders and illnesses, they suffer because of these illnesses more than anyone around them does. Because THEY are the ones experiencing the illness, THEY are the ones battling it and fighting it on a constant daily based. They are the ones who have to treat their own brains and minds as their biggest enemy.

Nevertheless, there ARE patients who are a danger on society. There are patients who will put others at the risk of harm. And those patients are dealt with in special means and ways. When being treated, everything is done to ensure the doctor’s and the patient’s safety. There are people standing ready with sedatives, there are special wards to accommodate them and avoid triggering them, and there are special ways of treating them, understanding their minds and brains, why they do what they do, what drives them to possibly harm others, and how that can be controlled, checked, and dealt with. There are ways to teach them how to deal with their illness, how to control their impulses, and how to coexist with others in society without harming themselves or those around them.

Qin Ciyan’s case was an exception that shouldn’t have been generalized. The son of the woman who died, might have been a mentally ill patient; however, he was an untreated patient who never stepped into the office of a psychologist that could have helped him. He lived his whole life like that, with his mother never telling him that his actions are wrong or trying to redirect him, in extreme poverty too, not even knowing that he was mentally ill or different from others. Most patients like him, don’t even realize that they’re suffering from a disease unless they’re told by a professional that they are. I bet his mother herself didn’t know that her son was mentally ill. The blame here lies on society for not educating the citizens more on mental health, and instead just treating it as a taboo topic and stamping it with harmful and demonizing stereotypes. So if the son’s actions and lash out was to be blamed on his illness, then we shouldn’t blame him. Rather, we should blame his circumstances, his poverty, the ignorance of society on the topic of mental health that allowed him to go on for so long without realizing he needed proper treatment. It is an exceptional case. Not a general one. Not every day the relative of a patient of yours who died comes barging in and stabbing you with knives.

But here’s the thing, it was later proven that, despite being mentally ill, he was completely sane during the time of the murder. Which showed that the murder wasn’t done because his illness caused him to lash out and lose control and be unable to distinguish between right and wrong. It was done because of his own vengeful intentions and wrath. If that’s the case, then why should all mental health patients be blamed for HIS decisions and actions? Why should they all be categorized into the same “can’t control themselves, might kill you at any time” box for a decision that one of them made when he was in a fully sane mindset? How is it their fault? Why didn’t xqc take the fact that he was sane at the time of the incident as any other resident when he chose to say the things he said?

Xqc, for anyone who DOESNT know about your background and what you’ve been through and why you reacted the way you did, of course they will call you a hypocrite! Because xqc, psychologists always get to choose their patients, and if they feel like they can’t handle a certain patient or their expertise isn’t enough to be able to treat said patient, they can easily transfer this patient to a more qualified and confident psychologist. Because xqc, when psychologists are dealing with a patient whom they deemed as dangerous and can suddenly lose control, they deal with such patients with utmost care and control, setting up so many precautions to ensure that no side is harmed during the treatment, at any given moment in time. Because at the end of the day, as a psychologist who must’ve treated countless patients before, you should know that every patient is unique, every patient has a story, every patient has a trigger. They all can’t be generalized into one category. Every case is different. Because as you yourself once said, isolating them from society and keeping them away from everyone else and treating them like some time bomb actually does more harm than good. Such treatment only triggers them further, hurts them further, and dehumanizes them in a discriminatory way. So of course such a video would paint you as a hypocrite, a doctor who lies to his patients, and someone whose previous patients can no longer trust or listen to.

If you wanted to be ‘safe’ for the sake of your family, you could’ve calmly stated that you are no longer qualified or able to deal with those patients with a sound mind anymore as the incident has affected you deeply, instead of going back on all your previous words and doing exactly what you yourself said people shouldn’t do when it comes to mentally ill patients. That’s probably what your colleagues thought when they heard you.

I rest my case by saying that I love xqc to bits, that although this analysis was highly criticizing, I still understand that he himself is a victim that shouldn’t be blamed for his trauma response. Also whatever reaction or treatment he yu will give him will be 10000000% justified. Also I love meatbun for managing to write smth so complicated and intricate and deep and full of layers that can’t be understood unless peeled carefully.

#case file compendium #meatbun #meatbun doesn’t eat meat #bing an ben #bab #cfc

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life-lessons-i-learned · 3 years ago

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The worst day of my life…

People often think that having been through so much trauma the worst day of my life must of been when I was first raped or first being attacked, when I got sectioned or my mental health being so bad they sent me over a 100 miles away from home. It wasn’t if you ask me what the worst day of my life was it was when my abuse and sexual exploitation came to light.

I’d been in a open mental health facility for 3 months voluntarily and every three months you would have a review of your care where your parents and all the professionals dealing with you would sit in a room with you and discuss what was going well and what needed more therapy or any medication changes; they also discussed discharge dates and I was doing everything in my power to seem stable, they was aware I was still self harming and knew that I was hiding sharps everywhere possible to the point they couldn’t really control it.

When my review day came I dressed up smart and was getting antsy as everything seemed to be running behind but I thought nothing of it. When they was finally ready a nurse came to let me through the locked doors to this meeting.

I walked into the room filled with all these professional stern looking faces but there was only one face I knew, my psychologist. I was confused as they introduced themselves as police investigators. Although in this room with heating, cozy sofas and warm drinks the air was cold, the tension was palpable and even 13yo me knew something wasn’t right.

Then the words came tumbling out the police officers mouth…we for months have been scanning through scores of text messages on your old mobile phone we took when you went missing off the streets, we know you’ve been sexually exploited, we know you’ve been raped and we know everything that’s been happening.

It was like being stabbed right through the chest, it was as if the biggest part of me had been revealed naked for the world to see. I was sobbing and I felt as if I couldn’t breath, every sense was in overdrive as if I could of pulled all the flesh off my own body just to feel more comfortable.

I screamed to be taken back to my bedroom, I screamed until my voice was coarse and felt like I might pass out. When someone finally listened and let me back through them heavy locked doors, I sprinted, I sprinted back down the corridor to my room when I curled in fetal position, rocking on the floor screaming and sobbing.

The only way I felt I could realease some of this pain and anger was to self harm, I pulled my razor blades out and starting manically hack at my arms, legs and stomach. A support worker came in and tried to talk to me and get me to stop but I couldn’t hear anything over my feelings screaming inside me. I was bleeding everywhere, my clothes were ripped when I heard the alarm, I could hear footsteps pounding down the corridor.

They all launched on me 8 people it took to restrain my body and I gripped onto this razor blade with a clenched fist I could feel the blade cutting into my hand as they tried to wrestle it out. Once they had the blade they slowly filtered out the room aware that I had no intention of hurting them…only myself.

I didn’t move from the spot they restrained me in I slowly curled up covered in blood and ripped clothes on the rough carpet thinking there was no way I could cry or scream anymore. I didn’t move from that spot until 5 hours later.

At this point they didn’t feel safe to leave me on my own so I was on permanent observations, a person watching and following me round 24/7. When I finally moved from that spot on the carpet I just wanted a cigarette, they walked me through to the hospital garden and the people on the ward looked shocked; these were people I’d been living with for three months who had only seen me maybe 7hours earlier looking smartly dressed and in a somewhat good mood, now seeing me covered in dried blood, my hair matted, makeup all over my face and all my clothes ripped.

When I got outside they only let me into the garden with the person doing my observations, it seemed appt that the rain was pouring down. The person observing me taking shelter under the awning. where as I stepped onto the concrete patio stones and sat down, lit my cigarette and let the rain wash over me, my cuts stung and I was freezing cold but it was as if I had lost every feeling in my body, my body purely in shock from the events of the day.

The staff talked to me softly and they offered me medications but it all just seemed to numb me further. After the fresh air I let them clean my cuts and bandage me up. I thought it was over I thought I’d had enough news for the day but then the nursing team swapped over and the day kept getting worse and worse.

There was always these two support workers (J & D I’ll call them for the purpose of this) that I disliked because they seemed to always offer the toughest approach that I hated. When they came onto the night shift they had obviously been told everything that had transpired and came and found me in the relaxation room laid out, they offered to take over my observations because they wanted to chat. They explained that they knew what had happened and came and sat down very close to me to discuss what I had missed once I had left the meeting room.

The police needed my mobile phone as evidence to track numbers and trace some of these people that had groomed me. They needed my permission to take it off me. They also explained that the police wanted to do video interviews with me where I give evidence on my abusers. It was like receiving a whole other soul crushing blow, these were men that beat me and raped me but had worn me down so much that I loved them, I didn’t want to get them in trouble, they were still texting me and harassing me as J&D talked to me.

These women who I’d once strongly disliked were now softly talking to me and trying to tell me what I should of already known, these men didn’t love me, they were using my underage body for their own financial gain. J&D were treating me as if their own child trying to encourage me to eat and drink, hand feeding as if a small toddler.

After much pressure from them I gave up my phone, regretting it from the minute I’d handed it across to them. I agreed to give the interviews to the police and between the two of them they sat with me all night offering comfort when I finally fell asleep and woke up from my nightmares.

Im not sure if the they ruined my life when persuading me to agree to those interviews; as giving evidence for only 1 man out of hundreds to be locked up crushed me even further and spiralled my mental health way further than it already was. But they looked after me and did their best.

But still to this day it was the most traumatic and soul crushing day I’ve ever had of my life and that was now 10 years ago and I still think about it to this day.

#killme #mentalhealth #saveme #sadgirl #bpd feels #bpd thoughts #abuse #groomer #exploitation #support #phone #my story #my legacy #my life #hospital #psychiatry

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lunar-lair · 4 years ago

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Some more general notes for the dead Reigen AU I thought of/can post now that his backstory is out!!

Dimple kinda joked about Reigen's blood stain at first, but when Reigen told him it was suicide...here, take another excerpt from my notes:

'When Dimple and Reigen first really meet, he actually jokes about it, saying, "Hey, kid, what's with the blood? You jump or something?"

Reigen snorts. "Is it that obvious?" He laughs. "Yup, off of Salt Mid."

Dimple's smile falls.

That wasn't meant to be a prediction.

"Honestly, not my worst decision," he says. "Being dead isn't the best, but at least I met Mob." He leans over to Dimple. "Don't tell him I said that, though, he hates when I say I like being dead."

Dimple brushes it off, giving a laugh. "Eh, it isn't all bad, yeah?"

The kid shrugs, and his eyes go a little dark as he hums. "Better than the track my life was on."

Dimple laughs again. "Yeah, probably."

He tries to blow it off. He tries to be an asshole about it.

But this kid is 15.

This kid is 15, and he's dead, and by his own volition.

It would matter less to him if he had just….died in an accident.

It would matter less if he regretted it; then there'd be something to make fun of, at the least.

But he didn't regret it.

He was 15 and he didn't regret it.

And, to be honest, it (haha) haunted him.'

Basically, Dimple tries to be an asshole As Per Usual, but as we all know, he's still got a heart under all that jackassery, and it got stabbed a little by some shock when he realized Reigen was a 15 year old, who willingly commited suicide, and didn't regret it.

He's just a little...in disbelief about all of it, and despite himself, he starts feeling bad for the kid and shit, y'know?

And before he knows it he's a dad at ghost age

And, as shown, Reigen jokes about his death a little. He kinda doesn't regret it, really, because he met Mob, and he didn't like the track his life was on very much anyways.

The only thing he really regrets about being dead is...well, not having a life, technically.

He'll never get to be a psychologist like he wanted to be, and he'll always be detached from humans, now.

And Mob and everyone else will keep growing up, and someday, they might leave Reigen behind.

So his fear of loneliness stayed; just in a different way.

Now that I've revealed Reigen's backstory, I can talk a little about the Teruki fight!

When he first met Teruki-by Mob's side as always, running off when they both realize how powerful Teru is-he was honestly...kinda scared of him. Hated him a little, too. The way Teruki used to be made Reigen's stomach churn, entirely because that's how Daichi used to be.

It was all just a little too close to how he was.

Also tiney lil fact!! Reigen always has a headache centered on the right side of his head, and if he possesses someone for a reeeeeeaalllly long time, they're left with one themselves once he peaces out.

#just some more tiney details i thought of! :>#mp100 #dead reigen au #tw suicide #suicide tw #reigen arataka #dimple mp100 #thatll work #hanazawa teruki #ehh........#yeah ill leave the others out #mob psycho 100

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deadstrangeblog · 5 years ago

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The Sad Case of The Lipstick Killer

North Kenmore Avenue is a much sought-after residential area in the city of Chicago, with a children’s park surrounding the apartments and transport links within walking distance. It lies around the corner from a prestigious Catholic school and the uptown setting is popular with young families and elderly residents alike, it’s safe atmosphere and cheap living costs appealing to people from all walks of life. North Kenmore wasn’t always as safe though. In 1945, in Apartment 4108, a woman was brutally murdered there.

It was June 5th when 44-year-old Josephine Ross was found slain on her apartment floor. Police were greeted by a messy scene– Pools of blood surrounded Josephine and the smashed up apartment indicated there had been a struggle. She had been stabbed multiple times and a dress had been wrapped around her head. Usually, when a killer covers the face of a victim, it suggests that they feel a great deal of remorse about the crime they have committed and that death is almost always the end result of an impulsive sex crime. However, this seemed different. No evidence of sexual assault was present and death had definitely been the result of a frenzied attack. Police found a clump of dark hair in Josephine’s hand, as if she had been in a violent struggle with somebody. Naturally, police turned to her ex-boyfriends and ex-husbands, all of whom had an alibi. Although the neighbourhood was frightened at the prospect of a murderer living close by, the police assured people there was nothing to worry about and that Ms. Ross had been killed by a startled burglar. Her murder didn’t make the front page, and she was sadly written off by investigators.

Six months later, and we are in December. Our killer strikes again but, this time, police begin to take notice. On the 10th of the month, divorcee Frances Brown was found dead in her apartment. She had been stabbed and shot, the bread knife used in her murder still lodged in her throat when a cleaning lady discovered the body. The grim message shown above, written in unusual handwriting, was scrawled on the apartment wall in red lipstick (earning the killer his moniker) but apart from that, little evidence was found. Compared to the first murder, police did have a bit more to go on: a bloody fingerprint and a possible eyewitness. John Derick, the concierge for the lobby, said he saw a nervous man and heard “possible gunshots” at around 4 a.m. Given the lack of surveillance technology during the 40s, it was impossible to confirm John’s account.

The last known murder of the deluded “Lipstick Killer” was a truly shocking crime against an innocent little girl. Six-year-old Suzanne Degnan (below) was snatched from her bedroom in Edgewater, Chicago, on January of 1946. Her bedroom window had been left open and a wooden ladder was still propped up against it. At the time, police had no reason to believe her abduction was connected to the Lipstick killer, as kidnapping little girls didn’t fit his modus operandi. A ransom note left at the scene read “GeI $20,000 Reddy & wAITe foR WoRd. do NoT NoTify FBI oR Police. Bills IN 5’s & 10’s. BuRN This FoR heR SAfTY.” That night, a man persistently telephoned the Degnan residence demanding the ransom, only to hang up as details were being exchanged. Those phone calls would later turn out to be a cruel joke performed by two high-school students, Vince Costello and Theodore Campbell. Sick with anguish, her family could only hope that the police could find Suzanne before it was too late. Sadly, their worst fears were confirmed. Acting on an anonymous tip, detectives travelled to a sewer just a block away from the Degnan residence and found Suzanne’s decapitated head. Where was the rest of her body? Investigators were now faced with the grim prospect that somebody had dismembered a little girl, and they were unfortunately right. They found her torso in storm drain, and both her legs had been discarded in separate catch basins. Her tiny arms were found a month later in another sewer. Blood, presumed to be Suzanne’s, was found in the drains of laundry tubs in the basement laundry room of a nearby apartment building. This crime was truly grisly, and without advanced forensic technology, it was hard to bring the killer to justice.

In a desperate bid to catch the murderer, police questioned hundreds of suspects and gave polygraph examinations to about 170 of them. In several press releases, they claimed to have captured the killer terrorising the city of Chicago, but they were always mistaken. All suspects were eventually released.

In June, 17-year-old criminal William Heirens (below) was burgling an apartment when he was confronted by the janitor and fled. Police were called, and Heirens was subdued by an off-duty police officer who dropped several flowerpots onto his head to render him unconscious. From the day of his arrest on June 26, 1946, things travelled on a downward spiral for Heirens and this once lucky burglar had run all out of luck. For some reason, police believed that Heirens was the Lipstick Killer and decided to question him. For six consecutive days, he was interrogated by police officers. He was denied food, water, and the right to an attorney, and two psychiatrists even gave him Sodium Pentothal (a potent barbiturate) without his consent. Most shocking of all, the 17-year-old was given a spinal tap without any anaesthesia. For days later, he was in incredible pain and couldn’t perform a polygraph test because his adrenaline-fuelled heart was beating too fast. Eventually, he cracked. He confessed to police that he had committed these crimes under an alter-ego named “George.” He explained to psychologists that he always took the rap for the crimes of “George” including theft, murder, and everything in between. The Chicago police department were suspicious of this defence, and accused Heirens of lying in the hopes of getting an insanity defence in court. Apart from his confession, police had nothing to go on. No evidence linked Heirens to the murders, and this polite University of Chicago student seemed incapable of such heinous crimes. It seemed like a bizarre arrest, but for the general public, it was good enough.

As suggested by his defence attorneys, Heirens confessed to all crimes. On his court date on August 7, 1946, Heirens took full responsibility for the three murders. The prosecution had him reenact the abduction and murder of Suzanne Degnan in court multiple times, all of which he did inconsistently. On the night of September 4th, Heirens attempted suicide in his cell and had timed it to coincide during a shift change of the prison guards. He was discovered hanging and was revived successfully by prison guards. He said later that sheer despair drove him to attempt suicide; “Everyone believed I was guilty…If I weren’t alive, I felt I could avoid being adjudged guilty by the law and thereby gain some victory. But I wasn’t successful even at that. …Before I walked into the courtroom my counsel told me to just enter a plea of guilty and keep my mouth shut afterward. I didn’t even have a trial..”

The next morning, the prosecution and defence were making their closing statements. The judge, Chief Justice Harold G. Ward, formally sentenced Heirens to three life terms. Somehow, he had been lucky enough to avoid the electric chair. As Heirens waited to be transferred to Stateville Prison from the Cook County Jail, Sheriff Michael Mulcahy asked Heirens if Suzanne Degnan suffered when she was killed. Heirens simply replied: “I can’t tell you if she suffered, Sheriff Mulcahy. I didn’t kill her. Tell Mr. Degnan to please look after his other daughter, because whoever killed Suzanne is still out there.”

Likely innocent, William Heirens still spent the rest of his life imprisoned. In 2002, a petition for his release was filed but eventually denied. In his older years, he suffered from diabetes and was confined to a wheelchair with limited eyesight. He died of natural causes on March 5th, 2012, due to complications with his illness.

In 1994, Dolores Kennedy formed a team of forensic experts to look into the murders and they found several inconsistencies, most notable was that Heirens’ confessions didn’t fully match the evidence. Heirens claimed that he was forced to confess by the police, and this is also supported by other evidence. They also concluded that the handwriting of the lipstick message and that of the ransom note were not the same and that neither matched that of Heirens. They also looked into the police force working on the case: Before Heirens was arrested, police had taken particular interest in a janitor called Hector Verburgh. 65-year-old Hector was from Belgium, and struggled to write fluently in English. With this in mind, isn’t it odd that police still arrested him and accused him of the murders? How could a man with no knowledge of English writing, scribble such an eloquently written note on his supposed victim’s wall? It didn’t stop there. Like Heirens, Verburgh was subjected to extreme torture. For two days, police interrogated him and beat him so badly that he sustained a dislocated shoulder. After his terrifying ordeal, he successfully sued the Chicago Police Department for $15,000.

“Oh, they hanged me up, they blindfolded me … I can’t put up my arms, they are sore. They had handcuffs on me for hours and hours. They threw me in the cell and blindfolded me. They handcuffed my hands behind my back and pulled me up on bars until my toes touched the floor. I no eat, I go to the hospital. Oh, I am so sick. Any more and I would have confessed to anything.”

With such atrocious behaviour from the police department, it’s safe to say that the man convicted of these crimes was not the real killer, merely a scapegoat for shoddy police work. The true identity of the Lipstick Killer is yet to be discovered, and, sadly, it seems that those who were murdered were not the only victims in this disturbing case.

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atreya300 · 4 years ago

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Slenderman and Creating Real Tulpas

I remember a couple of years ago finding out about Slenderman. It was so creepy that I looked into it a lot, especially when I heard the theory about Slenderman being a Tulpa. As if he wasn’t creepy enough just by being a made up story on the Internet, kids were killing other kids, or stabbing other kids, in order to “please Slenderman”. Clearly a game that they had invented and taken deadly seriously.

A Tulpa is an intended hallucination which can be sentient and have its own thoughts and personality. It is (according to the Tulpa Community, but not, I may add, folkloric legend) only seen by the person who created it, who has done so by prolonged periods of thinking solely about what the tulpa looks like, talks like, moves like etc, thus developing, in essence, another person who is sharing their body and mind, but functions as a separate personality. We know of lucid dreaming, as I have often done it myself. We’re aware that our brains are more than capable of producing extremely real and vivid hallucinations.

So is it entirely impossible that if enough people all put enough thought power into the creation of the same, singular individual, that a tulpa could be formed which could break free of the constraints of individual minds and be a person all of its own, with its own free will and the power to manipulate others? I believe it is possible. Call me crazy. My tin foil hat is firmly in place. It’s hilarious really when you consider that I laughed down the Flat Earthers, yet here I am saying that it’s possible to create an imaginary friend who can turn into a mind-bending, master manipulator.

I didn’t have many friends growing up. So I was one of the kids who didn’t mind admitting that I had invented an imaginary friend. His name was Bill and he was based off of Bill from ‘Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure’ because I was obsessed with that movie. I would talk to him whilst walking home from school alone, ask him what he would do in my place during different situations that I was struggling with and he always had an answer that I imagined. I would say, “Bill, do you think [insert boyfriend name here] is a dick?” and in my head he would instantly say, “Hell yeah he is, you need to dump his ass!”. Of course, I never once thought that I had created another person. It was my imaginary friend. In my head. Made up by me. Well, me and Alex Winter. His instant “responses” was just my own subconscious mind telling me what I really, truly felt, without having to consciously think about it.

Having perused the Tulpa Community it seems to be an extremely dangerous rabbit hole. For one, what they are describing as “tulpas”, at best, mostly seem to be an adult version of an imaginary friend and at worst, a real mental health issue, possibly Dissociative Identity Disorder which is incredibly serious and is being passed off as something that is perfectly normal and almost a uncommon achievement to be able to create a tulpa, rather than the reality which is that there is real medical and psychological help out there for cases such as DID and it should certainly not be explained away as a deliberately induced imaginary friend who will solve all your problems for you. Passing it off as such could potentially make the case even worse. I’m not a psychologist. I’m just using common sense. If you cultivate something, it grows.

So. I have made a decision that I don’t buy into the Tulpa Community. There are also a lot of comments on YouTube videos and forums that are quite blatantly people who are full of absolute shit and others who are just clearly attention seeking. I thoroughly enjoyed the brilliant sarcastic responses to those comments.

Now let’s get serious (ish). Bear with me. Let’s get back to the theory of many people being able to collectively produce a tulpa.

As I said before, I became obsessed with Slenderman. I watched videos (all of Marble Hornets), read newspaper articles, looked at pictures, read stories, until he became my every waking thought. After a week and a half I developed sensations such as paranoia, racing heart, dizziness and the feeling of constantly being watched by something just out of the corner of my eye. I began having horrific nightmares and would wake up drenched in sweat. I stopped being able to lucid dream and wake myself up and was forced to play out the nightmares, helpless. It got to the point where I didn’t want to sleep. The times that my boyfriend had blessedly snored loudly enough to wake my conscious brain, I sat up in bed, exhausted, trying desperately to keep my eyes open and not fall back to sleep. Every shadow in the bedroom seemed to resemble Slenderman and I was convinced that as soon as the lights got dim or it was dark, he was there in the shadows waiting. I stopped going to bed before my boyfriend. I didn’t want to be in the house alone.

Looking back, naturally it all seems totally stupid. Me, a grown 35 year old, scaring myself silly because of a kids’ story on the internet. But what if it really is possible to create a tulpa by using enough collective subconscious power? Thousands of people in the world at the time were reading those same stories and scaring themselves silly like I was. If it was possible to create a tulpa, Slenderman and his fame would most certainly warrant it.

For anyone who isn’t familiar with the 80’s movie ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’, the main bad guy/killer is Freddy Kruger, a demon (who was a bloke who killed kids and then got burned in a fire by their fucked-off parents, then he came back from the dead in peoples’ dreams, as a...you know what, I don’t fucking actually really know what kind of thing Freddy is) who kills people in their dreams. Enough people get to know about him and he suddenly can break free of only being in their dreams and can exist in the real world, killing whomever he chooses in reality. Freddy, is a tulpa. He existed in reality, purely because all the kids talked about him, described him to each other, then dreamed about him, which cemented him more in their brains, until he became a reality. By what was, if I remember correctly, the 407th film featuring Freddy, ‘Freddy vs Jason’ the townsfolk had worked out that the only way to defeat Freddy, was to pretend he didn’t exist. No one was allowed to talk about him, no one could mention his name, and anyone who dreamed about him was given dream suppression pills so they ceased dreaming altogether (boy didn’t I crave Hypnocil during my Slenderman nights). In this way, Freddy became weak and the town was safe (for a while - Stage Right - freaky hockey-mask-wearing-dude-with-mommy-issues).

My point is that from my personal point of view, the Tulpa Community are people who have really good imaginations, like myself and are doing nothing more than imagining another person. They are not “creating” a tulpa. Not in the sense that I think they think they are anyway. I sort of feel like a tulpa is akin to a golem who is created to protect someone or something and is capable of physical destruction in the real world.

I digress. Touching on Slendy for the podcast is something I’ve wanted to do for a while now, but I’ve hummed and hawed because, let’s face it, I’m scared. Slenderman did become a bit too real for me, even if it was in my head and my mind playing tricks on me, but it put me through sheer terror, I was legitimately scared of my own shadow so opening this can of worms is a big deal for me, even if it seems utterly stupid for a grown woman to feel that way. If two young girls can pretend that killing their friend as a “sacrifice to Slenderman” is real, then who’s to say if enough people genuinely hallucinated Slendy and his creepy, murderous personality, that other people could not be compelled to kill? He would become his own person. I’m a tin-foil hat wearing silly girl who believes a lot of ridiculous things (except Flat Earth, you guys are wrong - just saying), but from a mass hallucination point of view, I do genuinely think this could be plausible. And by delving back into this research, not only am I opening up the likelihood of scaring myself silly, into seeing shit that isn’t there, I would also have to be held (partially) responsible for creating the master Slenderman that wipes out the world by making people kill each other. Hmph. And Ted Bundy thought he had some great ideas.

Also, “Tulpamancy” is a thing. Although not according to the Tibetians, where the tulpa originated. Funny that. Almost as if it’s a made up word. (It is. By the Tulpa Community.)

As for the pretend “Tulpa Community”? Some of these people envision their tulpas as characters from ‘My Little Pony’. Make of that what you will. I wouldn’t personally be taking career and life advice off of a fucking horse. All I’m saying.

#slenderman #mystery #weird #tulpa #monster #murder

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