#idk its all blurry in my mind so i could also be completely wrong

[raredrop]

thinking about the old sites ill probably never find archives of bc theyre all small personal sites or i just completely cant remember enough of to even start searching

[thephantomlizard]

So I had a prompt idea because of a art I did and because it took me a bit, this post is a bit on the longer side. Arts at the end sorry it's blurry made it to big when I was drawing when you click on it, it should become clearer.

Danny minding his own business about to get into bed gets summoned ( I know its very over done by this point but hear me out)

he is not summoned by anyone who knows what they are doing or actually would think it would work

instead he is summoned by a bunch of kids who appear to not have any magical abilities ( kids who aren't any of the various child superhero groups)

He would have been fine if not for the fact that Billy batson was in this group of kids

who was pressured into doing the summoning with the other homeless kids he was staying with

It was Halloween after-all the best time for summoning's and one of the kids has found a weird scroll in the house they where staying in

What could go wrong

the summoning only barley worked, because billy was unintentionally using Captain Marvels powers for it (captain marvel is shazams original name for those who don't know)

I say it "worked" because of two things

One billy wasn't captain marvel at the time

Two He is a very power magic user being the champion of magic but he is not in complete control of it

These two things lead too Danny's summoning going wrong

The summoning succeeded in bringing Danny to the same dimension as Billy seeing as they where from different ones

But it failed on a few other major things such as the fact that when Danny was summoned he was no where near the summoning circle

Nor was he in his normal ghost form but a inverted bluer version of his human form

I imagine when he was summoned Billy's confused magic fused the two forms together tighter so now his ghost from mirrors what he is wearing in his human form

I think this happened because Billy's magic didn't know what to do with human Danny but did know that this was the person it was looking for.

So as it summoned him it made him shift into his ghost form but since it was a unknown power making Danny change it caused Danny and his ghost half's appearance to change (idk if that makes sense)

Though he does flicker back to his normal hazmat suit self on occasion like when he is in danger or fighting with a lot of his powers

When Danny got to the DC universe he arrived no where near Fawcett city instead he was in the middle of a Gotham street

Him getting there was not the end of it though because the summoning was never technically completed since he never got to the summoning circle Danny will teleport to a different location on the DC earth or around it whenever captain marvel uses his powers

This of course makes it so a lot of funny moments can happen such as Danny popping into league meetings, the middle of super villain attacks, or various superhero hideouts then immediately disappearing

This happens regardless of whether he is Fenton or phantom

He will probably have to resort to stealing to get food because he will not have time to get a job

he does not know how long he has between jumps the only thing he knows that it mostly happens in the day but even that is not reliable

Billy is still homeless in this so doesn't go to school all he does most days is be captain marvel

I imagine he is younger then Danny by a while and when they meet Danny would adopt him as a younger brother

This is not important but I imagine that dc and marvel is a thing where Danny is from but he is also way behind because his universe is still in the 90s so like Jason was just killed and Tim is probably just beginning to be a thing and Danny is salty about it Jason was always his favorite Robin

This is all I got, this is my first time giving a prompt and hopefully I'll be able to think of more in the future. But below is the picture I was drawing when I came up with this, it's of Danny when he first got to the DC universe.

[aoitrinity]

Why Do I Have to Feel Like a Fucking Conspiracy Theorist -- OR -- How I Find a Semblance of Peace on Sunday Night

I’m also going to start this out with a GIANT DISCLAIMER.

I am about to theorize about what may have happened to the SPN finale. I have absolutely no insider knowledge. I am merely speculating here based on the panels and a bunch of Twitter and Tumblr posts that I have been reading over the last few days. If you are not in a good place to read such things, TURN BACK PLEASE. Go take care of yourself and your mental health. You and your feelings are valid and deserve to be handled gently right now.

Additionally, if you are here to give me shit for being unhappy with the ending, please walk away as well. I am here to reach out and share my feelings with people who might be struggling to make sense of something that upset some of us in very deep-seated ways. I am not here to bother you or critique you or tell you that you’re lesser because you liked the ending. If you felt it was good, then go enjoy it.

Long-ass post beneath the cut, everyone.

Alrighty folks...I debated whether or not to do this because I have been spiraling down the hell that is the SPN finale since Thursday. The travesty of what happened to our show--to this beloved show that seemed to have been so perfectly and precisely written for at least four years that it had basically already paved its own tarmac on which to land its plane and we all thought we knew exactly what we were going to get. And then we didn’t. We had a nigh Cas-less and entirely Eileen-less ending. We had no goodbye between Cas and Jack. We had Dean dying young after finally finding his freedom, only to ascend to heaven with no one but Bobby. We had the weird, weird, weird incest-y death scene. We had the bridge crane shot thing because...sure. You do you, Robert Singer.

It was so terrible, so truly awful, and I couldn’t seem to square any of it with anything we had known going in. I tossed and turned and cried and didn’t eat or sleep all weekend. I spent hours just reloading tumblr and twitter, going to the Misha panel, reading and reading and listening and trying to figure out what the fucking hell is going on because I needed to know exactly where to direct my anger. And after a fuckton of talking with @winchester-reload, I think we have at least a very plausible theory about what happened here--I’m laying it out below as much for my own peace of mind as anything else, because otherwise all of these thoughts are going to continue to spin around in my head for weeks and I won’t be able to do jack shit.

Now to start off, unfortunately I do think Dean was slated to die from the beginning of this season. I don’t know WHY they thought that was the best way to go, and I wish they had listened to Jensen on this one. Part of me wonders if it was an order from on high based on the discussion between Becky and Chuck earlier this season--the writers knew it wasn’t a great choice, but they were trying to signal to us that we should feel free to write our own endings to the story because they’d be better (I can wax poetic on the signs of why many of the writers probably wanted Dean to live, but that’s another post). I’m not defending that choice by any means, just laying it out there that I think they didn’t necessarily all want to kill Dean like they did.

However, what I THINK I can explain now is what happened with Misha and why we got so jerked around with Cas’s story. Consider what we know (I can’t immediately source all of it, but I did my best):

At the end of episode 15x19, Lucifer has been returned to the Empty after being killed AGAIN. He talks with Cas. Maybe harasses him a bit about Dean, idk. But then...Jack shows up. New God Jack. And he picks up Cas and pulls him out of the Empty, leaving Lucifer behind, because seriously. Fuck that guy (also leaving behind his abusive father is character growth for Jack, so yay for that).

-Misha was contracted to film 15 episodes this season. He was only in 14.

-Misha told Michael Sheen he had to go back to film 1.5 episodes after the shutdown in March. (Starts at 6:13)

-Misha was in Vancouver during filming of the finale.

-Mark P said at Darklight Con that the last scene he filmed was with Alex and Misha (and Mark P was only in episode 19).

-Misha implied that he was present for various filming moments, including Dean’s death (start at 35:15), and said that it felt like a “mini-reunion.”

-Various sources have mentioned that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale.

-After episode 18, Stands tweeted a fan who was angered and hurt by Cas's death that they could talk about the “bury the gays” issue after the finale aired.

-In episode 19 we know there were takes of the parking lot scene where the only thing fans observing could hear was Dean yelling “CAS” at Chuck (fuck I can’t find this one right now, but it’s definitely out there)

-Also in episode 19, we had a very strange, awkward montage at the end of the episode.

-In episode 20, we know there were a FUCKTON of missing scenes

-We also had no opening montage, but three other separate montages.

-Carry on My Wayward Son was played TWICE, back-to-back at the end of the episode.

-Episode 20 was shorter than normal and had surprisingly little dialogue. The pacing was VERY strange.

-The cast and crew has been almost completely silent about the finale since it came out. When they have spoken, it has been with an awkward excuse of “Uh...COVID?”

-Samantha Ferris has specifically noted that, despite the Harvelle’s being back in play and a big heaven reunion having been planned pre-COVID, neither she nor Chad Lindberg received any such invitation to return.

-Cas and Dean POP Funko figures were pictured together in a replica of Harvelle’s in 15x04.

NOW with all of this in mind (and I’m probably missing some stuff too because there is so much--feel free to add on to that list), please bear with me because here is what I think we were SUPPOSED to get POST-COVID (after it was determined that the reunion couldn’t happen because of the virus):

In episode 20, we start with our NORMAL OPENING MONTAGE, like always. It traces everything that happened during the season. We are reminded of Cas. The confession. Rowena. Eileen. Jack. Billie, God, the Empty, all of it. 

Things then follow along in the episode where they did up until Dean dies and wakes up in heaven. After his conversation with Bobby, he drives off to find Cas (who, in the script, was listed as “Jimmy Novak” in order to protect against script leaks--who wouldn’t want to do their best to avoid spoilers about the finale with the wrapping of a fifteen-year show?). He does indeed find Cas. We get Dean’s end of the confession. Hell, maybe we even get a kiss. And then Dean sets up his new heaven home in the recreated Harvelle’s. Maybe Cas even fucking moves in. 

Years pass. We get Sam having his life on Earth (still can’t explain why they cut Eileen and couldn’t even have Sam signing vaguely to the blurry brunette in the background; if anyone wants to take that on, go for it). Eventually, Cas tells Dean that it’s almost Sam’s time. Dean takes Baby and goes to meet Sam at the bridge. The cover of Carry on My Wayward Son plays during this much shorter sequence. End of episode.

But that’s not what we got. Instead, much of what I just wrote about was excised from the episode. The remnants were stitched together after shooting had been wrapped. Filler was added in the form of montages and long, unnecessary extra shots to get the episode to something approaching a reasonable length. 

But why? Why would they spend all that time and money and quarantining on Misha, only to almost completely cut him out of the finale? I struggled with why the fuck the CW would want this mammoth show to go down as the greatest queerbait in TV history when they had the chance to do something truly beautiful and monumental with it? It couldn’t just be sheer homophobia, right? Well, I think that factored into it, my friends, but here is where my head is at right now.

It was about cold, hard cash.

Now I could be wrong, but this is what I’m thinking at the moment: Supernatural is going off of the air. Supernatural, the CW’s cash cow for fifteen years. Sure there is still money to be made on blu-rays and merchandise and cons...but they need people watching their shows. They need that sweet advertising revenue. And you know what show they have about to premiere? A show that could, potentially, bring with it a chunk of that SPN revenue?

Walker.

And if any of you know anything about the original Walker Texas Ranger, you know that the show was predominantly a show about a very heterosexual white man being very excessively heterosexual. And for SOME REASON over the years, many of the execs at the CW still seem to think that this show, Supernatural, is really attractive to a lot of middle-American white men...whom they desperately want to watch this new show with this guy from Supernatural that they already know.

Now here’s where COVID fucked us. I think Destiel was greenlit by TPTB, at least in SOME form, before COVID. But then the pandemic happened, and they panicked. They got the cut of the last two episodes and watched them in their original, probably queer form. And then, the execs at CW looked at the economy. They looked at their cash cow, about to make its journey to the great beyond. And they looked at this new little calf Walker that they were so desperately worried about. And they made a choice.

They decided that it would be too risky to take the step with Destiel. They were worried about frightening off their ever-so-valuable hetero male demographic with the possibility that a traditionally masculine man in his 40s could be in love with another man in an overt way. It was homophobia mixed with greed, spun up by fear for their revenues because of COVID.

So they called in Singer, possibly Dabb, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they went straight to Singer. They told them that Destiel had to go: executive orders. And the only way to make it go in a way that removed any trace of what had been there was to rewrite what happened to Cas and cut him out from the last two episodes entirely. It was too late to reshoot anything. They had to just cut and stitch and fill with bullshit montages. 

They removed the scene at the end of 19, probably because Cas and Lucifer discussed Dean. All that was left of Misha there was his voice on that fake phone call. They may have cut other things too, but I would bet my life that they cut a scene from the end of the episode and replaced it with that very strange montage. Then they moved onto 20. They cut out every scene with Cas. And left in only two platonic mentions of him, neither made by Dean. They tried to imply that Cas might show up in Dean’s heaven at some point, but that was as far as the editors could go in the time they had. They filled in with montages, awkwardly long shots, anything they could do to fill all of those missing scenes.

And they even had to take the opening montage, because literally everything in it pointed to Cas being there at the end of it all. They wouldn’t be able to leave out his scenes, they were too critical to the season. They couldn’t cut his confession without raising eyebrows. So they cut the whole thing and moved “Carry On My Wayward Son” to one of the newly-added driving montages at the end. Which is why we awkwardly had both songs play back-to-back--again, such a strange choice unless they were out of options and couldn’t exactly buy rights to a new track or compose anything else.

And so we were left with the shadow of the finale that we deserved, that Cas and Dean deserved. We were left without resolution or happiness or words. Bobo told us the most important thing about happiness is just “saying it” and our characters were silenced without anyone ever knowing the truth.

I think the writers might have known and been given the new party line that “Misha never filmed, he couldn’t, sorry, it was COVID, no one’s fault!” But I don’t think most of the cast even knew it had happened until they watched the finale on Thursday with us (though they might have been confused why the bit from 15x19 was sliced, they could reasonably have assumed it was a time thing and also BL episodes don’t make sense anyway). Why do I say that?

Well, first of all, Misha started sending out a bunch of excited texts to fans with some old BTS pictures about an hour before the show started airing on EST. He also wanted his children to see the episode, his YOUNG children. Why would he show them such a traumatic episode if their Dad wasn’t in it? What if it was because he wanted them to witness what was going to be a monumental moment in queer television history that their DAD got to be a part of? And then that was all dashed.

Which is why I think the cast and crew went almost completely radio silent the next day. I don’t think they knew. And based on how they have been acting on social media since then, I think many of them are absolutely furious, but they have been silenced because of NDAs, because they want to find work again in a cutthroat industry, because they don’t want to bring down the hellfire of Warner Brothers Entertainment upon themselves. So the most we have gotten is a little acknowledgement from the MERCHANDISING COMPANY trying to validate our pain (god bless Shirts, she is a LIFESAVER) and a response to my salty tweet about keeping good stuff in the closet from Adam Williams (the VFX coordinator) that seemed to acknowledge the validity of my complaint.

Then there was a scramble behind the scenes, I would bet my life. Talking points were fed to the boys who had panels today, to CE, to all the cast and crew:

Toe the party line. Misha never filmed. This was always about COVID. Do not mention Destiel. Do not mention Dean’s feelings for Cas. Do not promote the Castiel Project or anything that validates the idea that this was anything less than a superb ending.

And that is why we have heard so little from the cast on this front, and what we have heard has been muddled and contradictory. That is why the writers are saying nothing. That is why we have been left adrift.

Now before I close this out, I do want to say that I really, genuinely do not think this was on the writers at all. I feel like they tried to give us the best ending that they could, in a writers room that we know is notorious for splitting along party lines about the overall story (BL and Singer, who have always been about the brothers and their man-pain vs. Dabb and the rest who always seemed to want more for them and for Cas). I think they did everything in their power to at least end with Dean and Cas happy together. If they could give us nothing else, they wanted to give us that. And then the network took it from them. From us. From everyone.

For the sake of fucking money. 

And the WORST PART OF IT ALL, for me, is that in the wake of this disaster, the fans have been left to try and figure out what happened. We have had to wade through a mire of conflicting information in the midst of all of our collective anger and grief over this garbage ending of a show many of us have loved and even relied on for YEARS, all the while wondering if we’re just fucking crazy, if we have all fallen collectively into the hole of conspiracy theories. That hurts ESPECIALLY badly because we have taken so many hits over the years from other groups on social media saying we were crazy for seeing things that weren’t there (especially Destiel), for writing meta and analyzing tropes and believing the evidence of our eyes and ears. The network has made us relive that entire nightmare WHILE processing our grief for a show we wanted so badly to celebrate and which instead we now have to mourn.

So again guys, I cannot prove that this is exactly what happened at all; this is simply my idea of what may have happened. But right now, it’s the most sense I can make from this mess, and to be honest, the act of typing it out has helped me enormously in my processing of it all. I feel like I can see more clearly, like I know where to target my outrage and where to direct empathy. I feel like just fucking maybe, I might be able to do my job tomorrow without bursting into tears at random moments. 

I really hope that this post has helped some of you to, in some small way, process this too. We get through this the way that Misha told us at his panel this morning, the way the writers have told us to do all season long...we throw out the story God gave us and we make it better. We write our characters the happy endings they deserve. 

We save them.

One last thing--if you have not already, please consider channeling your rage into a donation to one of the five causes our fandom has put together to pay tribute to our beloved show and to mourn the ending it should have had:

-The Castiel Project

-Dean Winchester is Love

-Sam Winchester Project

-The National Association of the Deaf

-The Jack Kline Project

[itssleepyrabbit]

hi! wow i super love your art and i don’t have enough dabihawks in my life 🥺 was wondering if you had any fic recs for them?? 💕💕

aah thank you so much!! 💕💕 💕💕

BOY IF I DO HAVE!! alright buckle up this might get long (most are fluff and SFW~ i’ll put a NSFW warning but be sure to look at tags in all of them!!)

Bed I made (lie in it with me) by  silverwordswrites

“Touya is in desperate need of a plus-one for his brother's wedding and Keigo is infinitely curious about the man who he was sure used to hate him in college.” 

-- the summary says everything and honestly it’s one of the most romatics dabihawks fics i’ve read.

On-going

He Doesn't Love Me by  Fatally

“Dabi doesn't love him. He's accepted that thorny truth, swallowed it down and let briars grow in his chest, drinking down his blood like water.Or: The one in which Hawks settles for pining for his entire life and doesn't realize Dabi's been staring at him the entire time, too.” 

-- I love pinning Hawks with a burning passion.

Completed

sweetheart, is that you? by  fuckendeavor666

“dabi and hawks say i love you (without actually saying i love you) in five different ways.“ 

-- This is my absolute fave dabihawks fic

Completed

Deck the Halls With Boughs of Folly by  DrAphra

“In which the League has acquired a new fancy mansion -with all the heating and food and plush beds they could possibly need - but they still prefer to spend the day out in the wilderness with just each other. Plus Hawks.“ 

-- Honestly all Aphra’s dabihawks fics are more than worth it but this one has a special place on my heart.

Completed

fuck, im so young - orphaned

“Todoroki Touya writes poems.

Words upon words of heartfelt confessions, letters of sing song fantasies, syllables of feelings he never got to say out loud.

When Todoroki Touya hits sixteen, he burns himself to death.

When Dabi hits twenty four-

He meets Hawks.” 

-- i don’t know how to explain but this fic it’s pretty

Completed

Feathers and Feelings by  Toboe1087

“Hawks keeps leaving feathers on his pillow, and Dabi's about had it.

(like hell he'd let anyone else have them, though)”

-- Dabi preening Hawks feathers is a blessing

Complete

(this is not a) swan song by  bittermoons

“"Who's your favorite, then?"

"Hawks." Touya doesn't miss a beat. "Definitely Hawks."

"What? Seriously? How come?"

"He has his flaws, but at the end of the day, he's trying to do good. It's something he always strives for. Dabi, on the other hand...if it weren't for Hawks, he wouldn't be a hero, that's for sure."

[Or: How a secret is revealed, and what comes afterwards.]”

-- Adorable no quirks AU with manga artist Touya and oblivious Keigo! Another author i adore pretty much all dabihawks works.

Completed

You can't trap the sky in a bottle by thyandra

“Letting Toga organize the accommodations for their trip might have been a mistake. This particular truth becomes obvious to Keigo as he opens the door of his hotel room for the first time. There, staring back at him mockingly, is a single, king-sized bed. It’s only by virtue of all the years spent perfecting his poker face around his adoptive parents, that he manages to keep his face straight. At his side, Touya clicks his tongue. “They must’ve given us the wrong key.””

--(no quirks AU) I really love they way Dabi and Hawks are written here i can’t express it in words and so so much pinning

Completed

A Tale as Old as Time by  EloFromMars, Gotcocomilk

“Dabi and Hawks are hit by the most improbable Quirk: both are yeeted in Fairytales land and have to rely on each other to get out of this.“

-- this was such a fun read omg

Completed

A Romance Written All Over Your Body by  minatsukinoamayo

//NSFW mind the tags!//

“Hawks is assigned to infiltrate the League of Villains in order to expose them. Hawks usually never fails a mission, but Keigo usually never falls in love, either.A story of how Hawks falls from grace to become a villain, because hero society has failed them all.

OR

5 times they're not in a relationship and 1 time they are.“

-- you know those fics you say “one more chapter” and it’s 3AM

Completed

it caught spark in your eyes by  youareoldfatherwilliam

//Mature - Implied Sexual Content//

“Keigo’s quirk is powerful, but sometimes it comes with unintended side effects.

Or: A 5 + 1 fic of five times the more…instinctively bird-like parts of Keigo’s quirk took over accidentally during his relationship with Dabi, and one time it happened entirely on purpose.“

-- I was screaming about this particular fic on twt the other day pls give it a read if you can it’s so so so good! Any fic that has Hawks with bird traits has a special place on my heart

Completed

The Others by  threesipsmore

//Mature - 2 sexual scenes, nothing too explicit but they’re there//

“"Skeptic's starting to think he’s more important than me,” Toga sneers, an acidic edge to her voice. “Making decisions on his own, sending out birdie without even talking to me first.”

She’d simply acquiesced to cooperating with Skeptic, but from day one the complaints had never stopped. In this tiny room layered with sushi and cakes, Dabi was forced to listen to her whining.”

-- You go birb, you get that man

Completed

Equivalent Exchange by  inexchangeforyoursoul

“Keigo blinks the blurry oblivion away from his eyes, although some part of it is oddly stubborn and to stay indefinitely. There's three things he's certain of: first, he’s alive. Second, just by looking at the bed and windows he can tell this is no villain hospital or torture room. Third: something feels wrong. Very wrong.

The silence… is deafening.

xxx

To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.

If so, what of a bird that has lost its wings?”

-- i had so many feelings reading i can’t physically explain them to you also PINK HAIR DABI PINK HAIR DABI

Completed

dabi's 5-step guide to being a better parent than endeavor by  twinkfrankenstein (orphan_account)

“A little voice inside his head whispered spitefully about how this was no place for a child, and how he was making a mistake and would only traumatize the kid, yada yada. He responded with an equally spiteful-

“Fuck off, its not like I planned to do arson today.”

(or: how Dabi becomes a good dad just to spite his own, realizes he kinda sorta maybe likes Hawks for realsies, begrudgingly admits the League cares and finally comes to terms with his protective side. Not in that order.)“

-- this legit made me laught out loud idk what else tell you

Completed

The Todoroki In-Laws by  aphrodaisyacs

“Over 10 years after the fight against the Paranormal Liberation Front, Rumi, aka the part-time hero Miruko and the proud wife of one Todoroki Fuyumi, decides it would be an awesome idea to create a groupchat with the significant others of the other Todoroki siblings.

Maybe things would be easier if its members weren’t two Pro Heroes, a former one and a rehabilitated villain, but…Honestly, where’s the fun in that?”

-- this is not dabihawks focused but it’s so funny pls

Completed

With Being Petty Comes Consequences by  CursedUndead

“"When we were saying fuck pro heroes, I didn't think you literally meant FUCK them," Tomura grumbles, kicking over an empty beer can.

"Pretty judgmental for someone fucking a pro twice their age," Touya says.

Tomura squints, and says, "Ten years is not twice my age."

Or, after spending Enji's money, Touya is forced to babysit for the number 2 hero to pay him back. Touya makes it his life's mission to fuck his new boss.”

-- this only has 4 chapters but i know it’s going to be one of my faves

On-going

The Truth series by  AmethystUnarmed

-- Hawks gets hit with a truth quirk and starts to be actually free by the power of love, friendship and a bit of crime <3

The last entry is on-going

and if we sit and count it up it's really not a lot by  sincerelysamedt

“Hawks finds a bento box in his messenger bag and almost cries.

"Is that a loving wife bento?"“

-- please PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THIS ONE /sobbing noises/

Completed

steal your heart by  darlingest

//Mature//

“When infamous thief Hawks announces that he is going to steal the heart of Endeavor's son, everyone expects him to prey on Shoto Todoroki - nobody suspects Touya to be the actual target.“

-- Villain Hawks and civilian Dabi are my guilty pleasure and this one it’s so soft too i’m- djsahfdjkfhadf

Completed

darling, thank god it’s this universe we’re in (and you can annoy me as much as you please) by  juurensha

“ Todoroki Rei divorces Endeavor and moves all four of her children into a small apartment next to a boy with wings as red as the hair of her eldest son. “

-- This was one of the first dabihawks fics i ever read and, to this day, i come back to it when i feel i need the extra burst in happy feelings and check their other works too! Honestly all are such a good fucking read

Completed

[maggyoutthere]

This "Everywhere At The End Of Time" thing has been showing up on my recommendations list on youtube. What even is this thing-

I mean it sounds neat. I'm like half an hour in and I like it :/ it's so nostalgic with the static and record scratches. I'm a sucker for ambient music and these sound neat

Edit:

Reached Stage 2

What is happening why is this triggering something in me. Like I can clearly tell something's wrong. You can still hear the music but the static and record scratches are louder.

I'm kinda scared though. As much as I love listening to music I can tell when something is just more than your typical summer hit or even mental health PSA. What is this-

Edit 2

K so apparently this is an album representing various stages of dementia. That's a tricky thing to do but I have faith in music. It's a great way to express stuff so I'm very curious to what this is gonna turn out like.

Edit 3

Idk if I like where this is going.

"I still feel as though I am me" broke me a little for some reason. Idk why but it just stood out differently to me. I am very very hesitant to jump some tracks to get to hear the other stages still today. Most of these tracks transmit the same idea but I didn't want to leave out anything.

Also no I hate rb stuff to make those threads. Have the consecutive edits of this thing.

Edit 4

STAGE 3 YOU CAN'T JUST CUT OFF LIKE THAT WHAT THE HELL-

Little heart attack I just had aside, I'm liking it so far. It's starting to get very uneasy but I think that's the point of it. Goodness gracious Stage 3 scared the absolute crap out of me. It cut just like that. So abruptly and caught me off guard. Not even a fade out, damn.

Edit 5

I had to skip some tracks from the second half of Stage 3 and

oh no

Edit 6

Reached Stage 4

I am having some very visceral reactions to this. It is incredibly unnerving but I want to keep listening to it so much. I love how it’s not even music anymore, it’s just... noise. Lots of different noises all crumbled up together, unified by some vely loud static.

Might have to skip some bits here because all Stage 4 songs are 30 min long each.

Edit 7

MOMS COME PICK ME UP OH FUCK OH GOD NO NO NO NO

I HATE IT HERE BUT I LOVE IT BUT AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It’s so hard to put down what this is doing. I’m not even sorry for rambling just take this post for what it is idfk if people are even reading this but holy fuck.

The 30 minute ones are killing me from the inside out. I’m very sensitive to audio and sounds (probably because of autism) and this is just pulling all the levers in my brain. It’s so- i have no idea what to call it. Sensory triggering?? I guess???

Edit 8

Stage 5.

Oh... god. 

Edit 9

Reached Stage 6

This has no description, both in the video and in my head. The sheer nothingness something so loud can transmit; the void where something should be but you can't remember what. Blessed were the minutes when I was still listening to the first track; there was music at least. Now there's just this emptiness, this absolutely deafening silence.

The worst is that you know exactly what's going on.

Edit 10

Listening to the last track: Stage 6 - Place in the World fades away

Everywhere At The End Of Time is a series exploring dementia, its advancement and its totality.

I cannot put to words what an absolute masterpiece this is. To tackle such a serious mental illness like this one is already an incredibly hard thing to do; to make art out of it is risky, to make it work is nothing short of a miracle.

The Caretaker (pseudonym of the composer) is an absolute master of his craft. To use something so carefully constructed as music and sound to make sense of something that makes someone not make sense is a challenge to say the least. How do you even go about it? In music there are bound to be rhythms and leitmotifs and patterns: there is bound to be organization.

This is where EATEOT absolutely excels in. I don't know if this could be called of music but I'll surely call it of art; the genius of these tracks are in their editing rather than in their composition. The first 2 stages are pretty much just songs with static noises and record scratches layered on top. It gets the message across: there is still memory, it's just blurry, washed out. It's there but it's hard to see.

From then on out, everything changes. Stage 3 keeps the background noise going, now repeating certain parts of the songs or even reverberating them. The memories themselves are starting to change, not just getting difficult to access. Stage 4 sees the absolute fear and horror of realizing such thing is happening. The grasping at anything in pure terror of forgetting everything. There is no such thing as music now. It's unnerving, it's uneasing, and rightfully so. This does not sugarcoat things and I personally like that.

Stage 5 hits us with a certain calmness after the storm. Things aren't better of course, they're just quieter. Memories are starting to dissapear completely and now there is mostly only the background noises.

Then comes Stage 6. It's desolated, it's deserted, it's nothing. It's gut wrenching. I'd like to touch on the last song because I particularly liked this one. "Place in the World fades away" is, in my opinion, divided into 2 parts. In the 1st half you have static and noise. There is nothing in there. The occasional crescendo almost scares you because of how hollow the mind seems to be at this point, but it leads nowhere. Then there's the 2nd half. You start to hear music. Actual music this time. A choir of voices, still echoing from somewhere else remind you of how it first started: with the music. It puts things into perspective and signals you towards the first of this 6-part series, how far we've come. Then, as if telling what must be told, the music fades away, leaving you with a whole minute of absolute silence. No static, no record scratches, literally a whole minute of dead silence.

I found myself continuously going back to this tumblr post and to the comment section of the video; I didn't want to feel like I was experiencing this alone, and I was glad to see people in the comment section helping eachother out, talking and venting, so that was heartwarming.

I know I'm not usually very serious about things but I wanted to try and do it for this absolute magnum opus. I like to critique stuff as much as the next guy, but to be able to analyze something like this is unique. If you want something to challenge you emotionally, something to make you think and reflect on things, this is an absolute must.

Tl;dr: Everywhere At The End Of Time is a haunting representation of dementia, both in its advancement and in its totality. It's really profound and definitely worth a try if you have some free hours.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

i think i need a doctor

Prompt: emergency room

Whumpee: Nick Burkhardt 

Fandom: Grimm

heyo!! i am gonna be honest here i did kinda just pull this fic outta my ass so there is a chance its not very good but idk. anyway it is set early in season 2 i guess, juliette doesn’t remember nick you know how it is. maybe you will enjoy?

Nick was not really the kind of person that went to the emergency room. Usually, if he was in a situation where one might have gone to the emergency room, he either ignored or dealt with whatever it was as best as he could, or he eventually collapsed and ended up in the hospital. But today, he’d actually done the responsible thing. He’d taken himself to the emergency room.

He had been out having breakfast at his favorite cafe before work. It had been a pleasant morning, until the waiter had brought him a fresh cup of coffee to take with him to work. Nick had taken a sip, noted with some dismay that the coffee was bitter, paid for his meal, and headed out to his car.

He’d had a little more coffee on the way out, deciding he could put up with the bitterness in exchange for caffeine. He slid into his car and started the engine, taking a final sip of his coffee before he pulled out of the parking lot.

Not five minutes into his drive, Nick was considering whether he should pull over or drive himself to the ER. Something was wrong. His heart was beating far too fast, he was sweaty, dizzy, nauseous...he could barely think straight, and it took all of his willpower just to focus on the road. 

I need help, he knew. That was as much thinking as his mind would allow him to do. He swallowed harshly, feeling his pulse pounding in his chest. His hands were starting to shake where they held the wheel in an iron grip. His vision went blurry for a second, and he nearly ran off the road, jerking the car back into its lane at the last second. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but they were already blurring so badly it made no difference. Emergency room, he decided, and then he thought it, over and over, so he wouldn’t forget. Emergency room.

Fortunately, Nick was familiar enough with the location of the emergency room to drive there in his current state without getting lost, though he had definitely broken several traffic laws (not the least of which was, don’t drive if you can’t even think straight). 

By the time he screeched to a stop in the ER parking lot, Nick was almost completely out of it. He could still barely see, his heart was still racing, and the tremors in his hands had begun to spread through the rest of his body. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing before he’d gotten in the car. He couldn’t even remember driving here. Nothing was making sense, but he knew he was at the emergency room, and he knew he needed to get inside.

Slowly, he climbed out of the car, collapsing against the door the second he’d shut it. His legs, which he hadn’t paid much attention to while driving, were shaking and curiously numb at the same time, and he could barely stand upright. Not to mention the sudden spike in dizziness and nausea that standing up had created. 

Still, under all of this, Nick tried his hardest to focus. He was almost there. One quick walk and somebody would be able to help him. He just had to get inside.

He pushed unsteadily off of the car, nearly falling forwards onto his face but managing to regain his balance. He took a small, unsteady step as the blurry world tilted around him. And then he took another, and another, stumbling along slowly but surely. 

After an eternity of walking, Nick found himself in the lobby of the emergency room, surrounded by a dizzying array of noises and sights which combined unpleasantly with the fogginess of his mind and made him forget entirely where he was and why he was there. 

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, which felt strangely disconnected from the rest of his body, and then someone was asking him if he was okay, and he experienced a very brief flash of remembrance - he was in the emergency room, and he was there because he felt terrible. “I think I need a doctor,” he mumbled, and then his legs finally gave way beneath him.

For a while after that, everything was a blur. Voices shouted urgently above him, millions of miles away. Things were touching him, and then he thought he might have been moving, and everything felt so very bad but at the same time he was far too out of it to care. Something very cold touched his arm, an easily recognizable sensation compared to the blistering heat that the rest of his body was feeling, and then everything went away.

--

He woke up feeling uniformly bad. His head began to ache the second he opened his eyes. His whole body ached, too, like it’d been through some strenuous activity which he could not, at present, remember. His stomach felt strange. His throat burned. His hair was stuck to his forehead in a way that told him he’d been quite sweaty, but he was cold in a way that told him he wasn’t sweaty anymore. And, of course, he was in the hospital, one of his least favorite places in the world. He took a look around.

There was nothing special in the room, really. Nothing to tell him what had happened. A few machines. An IV in his arm. A pulse monitor on his finger. 

Someone in a white coat passed by his cracked-open door, and Nick called out to them, wincing when the action irritated his aching throat.

“Why am I here? What happened?”

“You were poisoned, Mr. Burkhardt. You collapsed in the emergency room.”

“I was poisoned?” He didn’t remember that. “Who poisoned me?”

“We were hoping you’d be able to tell us that,” said the doctor, looking sympathetic. “I’m afraid we don’t know.”

“Did you call anyone?” Nick asked, half-hoping but at the same time fearing they hadn’t. 

“We called your girlfriend, who was listed as your emergency contact,” the doctor told him, and Nick groaned. He really didn’t need to bother her with this. Not when she was already having to deal with the whole having-no-memories-of-him thing. 

“She said she’d be here as soon as she could,” the doctor went on, and Nick looked up in surprise. “She also said she was going to call a few of your friends, I believe. This was maybe fifteen minutes ago, so they should be here soon.” She gave Nick a smile. 

Nick returned it, mildly stunned. He’d been sure Juliette wouldn’t have wanted to come to the hospital for a man she barely knew, but she was coming, and so, evidently, were his friends. He smiled a little more and thanked the doctor, who said she’d be back shortly to speak with him some more. Then she left, and Nick was left to wait.

Which he didn’t have to do for long. Not five minutes later, Juliette, Monroe, Rosalee, and Hank stood crammed into his small hospital room, clamoring over each other to ask questions.

“Are you okay?” Juliette asked, looking at him with so much concern on her face that Nick nearly wanted to cry.

“Do they know what it was?” Came Rosalee’s question, as she smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Who did this to you?” Monroe asked, his eyes faintly red but still full of worry. “I’ll kill them, I swear.”

“I’ll join you,” Hank added, a similar expression on his face. 

Nick didn’t answer any of their questions, too caught up in just looking at them. At all of them, surrounding him in a way that would’ve made him feel trapped if they were anyone else, but which instead felt safe and comfortable and very right. They’d all come, for him. Stopped whatever it was they’d been doing. Left work. Just to come see him, because he’d been dumb enough to somehow get himself poisoned. 

“Nick? You okay?” Hank asked, and Nick quickly wiped away a tear he hadn’t realized had fallen down his face. “Yeah,” he said, out of instinct, and then he realized he meant it -

He might have been recovering from being poisoned, might have felt like absolute hell, might have been grappling with the question of who had hurt him and why, but he really was okay. He wasn’t alone. His friends were there, and that was all that really mattered. He was okay.

hello i hope this was not too bad!! thanks a bunch for reading! (also do not ask what he was poisoned with i do not know lol just pretend there’s some poison that does all this ok)

[asgardianthot]

Flesh And Bones – Part 9

Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

A/N: oof this took a while! second to last :( gonna miss cracking my head with this fic lol never again shall I just wing it without a clear idea of how to end a story.

*Important: Hydra base scene but I won’t depict a tortured Bucky, he doesn’t always have to suffer at the expense of his ex-captors and I’m honestly getting tired of the obscene amount of torture fics out there!! Consider this an anti-trigger warning but also a threat? Idk enjoy

The anguish never went away.

Two days later, Bucky found himself knocking on Sam’s door, his heart on his hand.

There was no answer behind the thick walls, but Bucky knew he was there. Somehow, he felt it deep in his bones.

"You okay?" he asked.

The sound was muffled inside Sam’s room, both from the structure separating them and the external sounds that made their way in through the open window. There, Sam rested both hands on the lower frame as he stared outside, more focused on the wind and noise that drowned down his thoughts than the actual view. Bucky’s interruption made him realize he didn’t know for how long he’d stayed in that frozen position.

He slid down the window until it hit its frame, "Yeah, why?” he lied nonchalantly.

His mind was racing. As time passed and brought the team closer to the Hydra raid, Sam worried for Bucky. Not that he wasn’t prepared or that he was being reckless, because he knew that wasn’t the case. What had him worrying was the idea of Hydra potentially targeting Bucky. Although Natasha had assured him a million times that there was absolutely no chances that this was a trap, Sam’s mind couldn’t help but wander around horrible ‘what if’s, ones that compromised his soulmate because Hydra’s finest assassin had escaped them, so they were likely to want revenge on the man. Maybe even try to get him back under their grasp. And if Sam was deprived from the option of saving him, he wouldn’t know how to live anymore.

Bucky’s answer, however, got his head out of the dark cloud.

"I don't know. I feel weird." Barnes mumbled from across the door, loud enough to be heard though.

The last three words alone were enough to bring Sam towards the closed door. Bucky felt him. He felt weird, and wondered if Sam was alright, and he went to check up on him. As soon as he faced the mildly pouty lip, the big brown eyes, the badly concealed worried frown, he wished for nothing else than to kiss that pout away.

Which he did very aggressively. Sam brought his body against Bucky’s, he cupped the brunette’s face by his raspy cheeks and crashed their lips together. He didn’t wait for Bucky’s tongue to dance with his, he made it. When they stopped to regain their breaths, and the make out was over, Bucky looked confused, but in the best way possible.

He caught his breath with an amused look, "Okay."

Sam wanted to laugh with him, address his flourishing emotions, but his worry was far greater. So he showed the man inside and gestures to follow him. They both sat at the end of Sam’s bed.

“Yeah, there’s something wrong.” Sam admitted.

Barnes’ tone became sterner and more precautious, “What?”

Wilson held his hand before speaking.

"Tony said there's no rules or anything.” He reminded the latter of their informative chat with Stark, “But he did make it seem like there was some sort of... I don't know, some sort of progression.”

"What do you mean?"

Sam inclined his head like he was pushing himself to say the next thing out loud, "You've been really nervous lately."

Bucky didn’t flinch, yet he wasn’t comfortable either. The idea of Sam knowing that, finding out that he wasn’t as relaxed about the raid as he wished to play it out, was a quick disappointment.

"Guess you could say that." He looked away.

"I know that.” Sam emphasized the word while at the same time lowering his volume to attain a more intimate tone, “I don't think I should be able to."

Bucky simply shrugged.

"Why can I tell when you're anxious?” He had to insist on his concern. “How come you do too? It doesn't make any sense. Unless..."

"Hey.” The soldier stopped him, already knowing what scenario Sam was forming inside his head, “There's no step back here.”

Given Bucky’s certainty was convincing, and he was becoming aware of the fact that he was overthinking, Sam still couldn’t shake off the sour feeling of approaching danger.

“You’re supposed to be the sane one here, Sammy.” Bucky laughed, which brought a warm feeling deep in Sam’s chest because of the employed nickname, “We're okay. It doesn't have to mean anything, remember?"

That was enough for Sam’s heart rate to drop considerably. Bucky managed to calm him like that.

"Thank you.” Sam said genuinely.

Nevertheless, Bucky could read him. Hell, he could feel his dark feelings not shifting away. So he went into the gray zone he didn’t think he would be approaching anytime soon.

“Is it because of Riley?” he dared to bring up the subject.

Sam was more than taken aback, but he blinked to dissimulate. They had only ever talked about Riley once before, in another heart-to-heart, and it had brought tears to Sam’s eyes. Bucky knew everything, their friendship that was always something more, the love declarations left unsaid, the part where they saved each other’s asses in Afghanistan. Riley was the reason why Sam trusted the universe to be kind, even without a soulmate. He was the reason Sam told everyone you can love without a bond, because that memory was all that was left of the dead man.

“What do you mean?” he let the words out minimally.

“Are you afraid to lose me like you lost him?”

Sam shook his head, rejecting the mere thought of comparing the two men, almost desperately. There were open wounds that he hadn’t had the courage to heal yet. He cleared his throat and tried to shrug it off.

“He, uhm… He didn’t have that crazy serum of yours.” Sam faked an absent mind, although he failed, “You’re not the same.”

Bucky could see right through him.

“Exactly, I’m not Riley.” He grabbed Sam’s chin endearingly. “I heal fast, and you’ll feel me the entire time, and I get that you’re scared, but so am I. It’s why we got each other, right?”

Sam’s vision became less blurry when his soaked eyes dropped a single tear each. They rolled down his cheeks and were wiped away by Bucky’s thumb.

“I promise you won’t lose me.” He ensured his soulmate, who allowed himself to be held and rocked until he felt like talking again.

-

“Everyone on comms?” Steve’s voice barged into everyone’s earpieces.

As soon as the five other voices replied, Rogers gave them the orders required to execute the raid perfectly.

The first two floors would be empty, according to their lead, for they mainly consisted of dirty  storage units meant to distract anyone from even getting close to finding the real base. So, those floors were their entrance and their escape, if ever needed. Hopefully, they would imprison everyone, realistically speaking, a few would be taken out in the process, perhaps killed. Whatever may come out of the raid, Steve Rogers had a whole alphabet of backup plans.

First off, they had to disperse. Steve and Rhodey walked upstairs as silently as possible, reaching the third floor in minutes. Meanwhile, Bucky and Natasha moved forward and explored the premises with their guards up. Romanoff’s excuse to pair with him was that they both had experience with these kind of organizations, although they everyone was rather aware of the fact that she was keeping an eye on the man Sam was worried about. Bucky ignored the reason behind it, and made no comment as the pair was left behind by Sam and Wanda, who walked upstairs.

When the first line of Avengers broke down the door in one swift blow, shield and blasters up with anticipation, they found the entire floor empty. After a confused glance between Rhodes and Rogers, they lurked around every single corner and behind every single door. Nothing.

“This wing is clear.” Rhodey said through his earpiece.

Although it didn’t seem to upset the rest of the team half as much, Sam was experiencing his fair share of anxiety. He looked up to the ceiling, as if he could burn a whole straight through and peak at the floor in question.

“Where are they?” He whispered to himself.

A minute later, Steve sent another command, “I need guns on the front line.”

Barnes rolled his eyes in mocking of his best friend.

“Nobody talks like that, Stevie.” He taunted him.

Yet Steve didn’t appreciate the joke, for he was far too tense. His eyes moved around frantically, looking for a possible trap, which his paranoia was leading to.

“Guns first.” He repeated himself clearly, “Something feels off.”

But nobody got there. Before Bucky or Natasha could even reach the stairs, a set of loud noises surrounded them. In every floor, metal doors fell from the ceiling, blocking exits and doors. These doors weren’t too intense, but their tech hadn’t picked up on them, which meant they were expected. Every Avenger found themselves trapped in their respective zones. As for Barnes and Romanoff, they were too apart from each other to even see the other’s face.

So, deep in his fear, Bucky raised his gun and checked every wall his sight could reach, almost waiting to be attacked. If Natasha was completely honest, she would have bet Bucky was a target, as well. That is what everyone’s minds went to, especially Sam’s. Luckily, he had the company of Wanda right next to him to feel calmer.

"Everyone okay?" Rhodes checked.

Sam and Wanda replied with their status and whereabouts, but after a lack of response from the other two, the man confirmed their status on his wrist screen, only to see that Barnes and Romanoff were off-line. He figured they must’ve been trapped downstairs.

"We gotta move fast.” Steve ordered, keeping his Captain-like calm, “Try to get to the control panels, if not, evacuate. They know we're here."

Wanda and Sam. Walking slowly. Careful. Not many places to hide, but there must be a way out.

“He’s okay.” Wanda let Sam know.

They walked side by side, as slowly as possible. There weren’t many places to hide nor another entrance that they knew of, on the second floor, yet they remained precautious.

“What?” Sam let out without paying much attention.

“I’m saying, he can take care of himself.”

Once Sam understood that Wanda was playing the best friend card in letting him know she knew Bucky to be strong, he realized he probably looked too worried.

He fought back his frown. “I know that. I’m just…”

“Anxious?”

“We’re trapped in an underground intelligence base,” He sighed loudly, “shouldn’t I be?”

The statement earned an acknowledging nod from Wanda, who waited a few more seconds to press his earpiece and reach the Captain.

“Steve? You think it’s okay if I tear down a wall?” She asked for permission to jump into action.

“No.” Steve denied her dryly, “Bucky and Nat are on their own, we won’t engage until they’re safe.”

The young woman shut her eyes with annoyance, “Okay, Steve? You’re not helping Sam stay calm.”

She received no further comments. Everyone felt too powerless after all. No comments.

Down in the bottom storage, the place began to look more like a maze. It was a mess of similar, dusty hallways and old, closed doors. Natasha tried each and every single one of them, but they were useless, and she figured they wouldn’t get her anywhere, anyway. It might as well have been an underground cellblock.

“Barnes, give me a sign.” She asked for a second time.

Bucky indulged her, complying with her attempts at finding each other. Together meant safer.

He thought hard about his whereabouts, “East wing’s on my… left side.”

“I can’t get through to anyone else.” Romanoff finally said what seemed obvious to both of them.

The soldier couldn’t help but take a deep, calming breath, for it was a much needed one. He gripped his gun harder, trying to ease himself.

“Me neither.” His mouth spoke in disconnection with his brain, which was submerged in paranoia by now.

Natasha could sense that.

“We’re okay.” She did her best at calming him realistically, as she looked around for a way to find him, “You said east wing? I think I got you, Barnes.”

Suddenly, a gunshot was clearly heard, making Natasha turn around in a haze, only to find herself alone, and realize that the shot came from afar.

“Crap.” Bucky groaned, his communicator still on.

After the sound of three other guns and what appeared to be Bucky’s rapid machinegun, the woman panicked.

“Talk to me.” She ordered him.

"I got hostiles!" Barnes screamed over the noise of his own weapon.

As soon as Natasha realized she could hear where the attack came from, she followed the echo, running. Eventually, the sound drowned out.

“Bucky?” she asked, fear crippling through her.

There was no reply but the sound of Bucky panting. She managed to find a grilled gate, which she shot and kicked open easily, all the while her mind raced to the worst case scenario. Sam had trusted her with his soulmate’s life.

Finally, she hit the scene: two dead bodies on the floor, both hostiles. The soulmate’s life was still intact.

“Good, you’re alive.” She breathed out, pretending she wasn’t just losing her mind mere seconds ago.

Nevertheless, she quickly noticed that Bucky’s panting was linked to whatever made him hold his ribs so painfully. Then, Bucky removed his flesh hand from that zone in order to look at it, revealing to both of them that the hand was covered in blood. As terrified as Natasha was, her expression couldn’t match Bucky’s.

"You’re shot." She stated with wide eyes.

Bucky swallowed hard, "We have to find Sam." He said roughly.

As Romanoff processed Bucky’s fear, the latter looked around for an out in desperation. He was worried that Sam was hurt. Sam, who couldn’t bleed out from a soul bond wound, while Bucky had his fingers pressed against a pool of red.

"He'll live.” Natasha approached him carefully, “You, on the other hand..."

Barnes shook his head. "Sam first."

-

Wanda was known to save the day without too much effort. Turns out, the Hydra base was covered in desperate traps because they were too vulnerable to withstand a raid. Therefore, the witch tore down the metal walls and flew up to help Rhodey and Steve, who didn’t need too much aid as it was. Sam stayed down, fully aware that the other three were probably kicking ass, and still worrying. He ran downstairs as soon as the blockade was taken care of, in need of finding Bucky safe and sound, even if he knew that he was.

And he knew he was okay, because Sam himself hadn’t felt a single sting. Not a gunshot, not a bruise, not even a scratch.

So, if Sam felt untouched, then Bucky must be.

Finally, he heard the pair, and found them at the bottom of the stairs. He jogged the last few steps and noticed that Bucky was holding himself up against the wall, limping. The latter looked up with big, concerned eyes.

"You okay?" He asked Sam.

That was when Sam saw the bloody hand pressed against his soulmate’s chest. Natasha was helping him stay on his own two feet, while Bucky examined Sam’s body like his own life depended on it. Technically, that was the whole deal. Wilson pushed his own hand against Bucky’s and frowned.

"Did you get shot?" he shouted in despair, his eyes as big and afraid as ever.

"I'm sorry. I tried-" Bucky tried, but cut himself off with a grunt of pain.

"Buck." Sam grabbed his torso.

"Let's go home." Bucky begged.

"Yes. We will.” Sam’s tone became serious and authoritarian, “Sit down."

"I'm fine."

"He's losing a lot of blood." Natasha confirmed Samuel’s suspicions.

In between the frantic commands and worrisome looks, Bucky couldn’t help but notice Sam’s lack of discomfort. Almost like he hadn’t felt a gunshot in his chest a few minutes ago.

He frowned with confusion, "Why are you-?"

"I didn't feel it.” Sam shrugged it off, way more focused on the open wound, “Sit down. Bucky."

"What do you mean-?"

"I didn't. Bucky!” Sam grabbed the face of the stubborn, hurt man with his free hand, smearing blood all over his cheek, and yelled to his face. “James! Listen! There was no bond. Right now, that's not important. You're bleeding out."

"They didn't hurt you?" Bucky seemed to finally understand.

“No!”

The new information hit Bucky like a soft, warm wave of tranquility. If Sam wasn’t hurt, if Hydra hadn’t hurt Sam, then he didn’t need to worry. He could breathe. And as he breathed, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, along with some heavy dizziness.

"That's good." He mumbled, looking past Sam with lost eyes.

"It is. Now calm the fuck down." Wilson begged, trying to take a good look of the wound.

Bucky nodded, finally compliant, "Okay."

With that last word, Bucky’s eyes rolled back into his skull, and he surrendered to tiredness. He stopped feeling anything other than her very light head, until everything went black.

"Shit.” Sam cursed under his breath, catching him before he hit the ground completely.

He eased his partner’s fall and let the passed out body rest against the wall.

“Give me a hand.” He asked Natasha.

They managed to sit him straight against the wall, in order for Sam to press his hand against the bleeding gunshot. Nat said something over the communicators for the rest of the team, which Sam didn’t fully catch, before she knelt down next to her friend. She examined the wound, then Bucky’s pupils and let out a breath.

“He’s gonna be fine.” She appeased Sam.

“I know.” Sam said without giving it too much of a thought.

The woman gave him a wondering look.

Sam merely shook his head with uncertainty, “I just do.”

[spaceskam]

Annoying-It-Only-Takes-a-Taste-Anon is back! I hope you had a great day and start the new year with energy and positive thoughts! Now... Will those two have someone to kiss for New Years? #seriousquestion

You never annoy me! I love seeing these messages! You know what does annoy me? Whenever Tumblr deletes everything I write because this should've been done yesterday. Anyway, I hope you like it ❤️

Warning: mentions of drug use, implied uncomfortable situations? (Idk what the right word is, peer pressure maybe? Its like heavier than peer pressure but not quite outright harassment. Or it might be harassment and I've just been conditioned to think it's not because that's how it be sometimes. Idk, if you know the right word let me know)

"That hat is outrageous!"

Michael stuck his tongue out at Isobel and swatted her hand away as she reached to touch it. She simply laughed and they leaned back against the wall.

New Year's Eve meant Isobel and Michael were both dragged to parties they weren't fans of. Hell, everyone had come back to school earlier specifically to go to Dean Harries' frat party. And, just like any other party, Isobel and Michael waited to the side. Isobel didn't like disorganized, reckless aura of parties like this, she liked fancy parties where she got to play Blair Waldorf for a moment. Michael, on the other hand, found them ungodly overwhelming. He had an internal timer set to only take so much of the chaos before he had to leave.

Their friends did not share these feelings.

A quick glance around the room showed massive dork Maxwell Evans downing beer after beer while a small crew of his frat brothers chanted 'chug, chug, chug'. Not far from that, Liz was wasted and dancing like no one was watching. Probably because they weren't. Maria was leading Dean Harries himself somewhere nice and private because apparently going into the new year with a kiss just wasn't enough. And then Alex…

"Who is that?" Michael asked, unabashedly pointing to the guy that Alex was talking too with his sexy little smile and those all too familiar 'fuck me' eyes.

"I don't know. Why, jealous?" she asked playfully. He scoffed.

"No, I just haven't seen him before."

Michael felt weird as he watched Alex flirt with this other guy. He knew that they weren't in a relationship and they were just friends who slept together, but they had also spent a week and a half in complete isolation. He learned a lot about Alex Manes in that time. He'd learned how long his showers lasted, how often he washed his hair, how late he slept whenever he didn't have school or practice, how he fixed his coffee, and, more importantly, how he would cuddle a lot longer as long as he was watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It was the most intimate he'd ever been with anyone and, admittedly, lines were blurring.

Those blurred lines made it feel a bit more like betrayal as Michael watched them exchange small touches and get closer. It was impossible to continue when the guy leaned in for a kiss and Alex didn't stop him.

"Alright, time's up, I gotta get out of here," Michael said, turning completely away from the hellish scene behind him. Isobel didn't argue.

They both went and sat in his truck and began their long wait for Max to finally be ready to leave. He wished he hadn't agreed to be DD. He just wanted to go home and reassess his relationship with Alex so he would be prepared next time he saw him. He didn't want to act possessive whenever he knew that they weren't together. Alex wasn't his. He knew that.

"Be honest. You're jealous," Isobel said bluntly. Michael took a deep breath and clutched the steering wheel.

"Alex is the first guy I've ever slept with. I think that makes it seem like a bigger deal than it is and that's my fault," Michael said. She simply hummed in response.

Michael spent the next thirty minutes repeating in his mind that this didn't matter. They weren't together. He knew that. He couldn't be jealous. He did it until he convinced himself it was true.

And then his phone lit up.

Alex: 2nd floor bathroom

Michael stared at it for a moment, processing it before he looked over to Isobel and excused himself to go find Alex. 

It seemed even louder when he went back inside. People were more hectic, more sloppy. He knew it was only a few minutes away from midnight so they were probably only going to get worse. Michael could feel his pulse getting faster at the idea.

He got to the bathroom that he only knew about because of the last party that included Michael holding back Liz's hair when she threw up. He knocked and the door creaked open just enough for Alex's hand to shoot out and drag him in. 

Looking at Alex up close for the first time that day felt like a breath of fresh air. His hair was all over the place and he had sparkly highlighter on his cheekbones that were impossible to ignore when they weren't being called attention to. He had on tight jeans and and a tight shirt and he looked so fucking good. Michael couldn't blame that other guy for wanting a taste.

"Hey," Alex whispered, his hands going to Michael's chest and rubbing slightly. Michael furrowed his eyebrows at that.

"What's wrong? Why are you hiding in the bathroom? Why'd you text me?" Michael asked. Alex shushed him, looking at him like he'd lost it. Michael gave him another once over, only this time noticing his bloodshot eyes and his flushed face. "Are you high?" 

"Shh!"

Michael scoffed and almost took a step away from him. Alex didn't get high. Alex didn't even drink. Fuck, Alex didn't even drink dairy because it was bad for his vocal chords.

"What are you on?"

"Jen gave me something," he said, pausing for a minute, "Or Jim?"

"Alex, some random guy gave you a random drug and you took it? Are you insane?" Michael demanded. Alex simply grabbed his shirt.

"Shhh, he told me to. Had to," Alex whispered.

"Had to? What do you mean, had to?"

Alex gave him this look that told him he couldn't find the words and Michael tried to fill in the blank.

"Are you saying he drugged you?" 

"No!"

"Did he force you?" 

"I… No?"

Michael stared at him for a bit longer and decided the guy probably just made him feel like he didn't have much of a choice. Michael had never been on the receiving end of that feeling, but he knew Isobel had. He knew there had been many situations where she'd done things simply because she was scared to piss some guy off. He didn't like that it happened to her and he didn't like that it happened to Alex.

"Okay, well I got you," Michael said. Alex nodded and let Michael pull him in for a hug.

Downstairs, they could hear people counting down. It was too loud and Michael hated it. Alex squeezed him tight.

"It's New Year's," Alex whispered, "Can I come home at you?" 

"Uh, you don't have a choice. I'm watching to make sure you don't have a bad reaction to whatever that guy gave you," Michael told him. He nodded his head before slightly pulling out of the hug. He rested his forehead on Michael's just as everyone screamed 'Happy New Year' beneath them.

"I'm happy I met you," Alex said.

"Me too."

Alex pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was the only viable New Year's kiss he'd ever had and he reciprocated with a kiss to Alex's forehead.

His hard work of ignoring the blurry lines went to shit.

"Let's get out of here."

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled.)

[SPOILERS FOR SWORD & SHIELD START HERE].

Oh Hop, my sweet, sweet summer child.

I've used a similar setting in three fics already. Time to get original bitch. Anyway! This story was a test run for a Postwickship fic for me and it's a success: I've had tons of fun. This is supposed to be set post-game but in an AU where Shieldbert and Swordbart or whatever their Eng names are didn't show up to steal old rusty held items idk. I just really wanted to write hurt/comfort for them lol I headcanon the player character and their crew as 16 in SwSh so they're 16-17 here. I wouldn't puncture the lung of a 10-year-old, jeebus. This could be a little incoherent because I wrote it in more than one sitting and while doing some research on the side at times, so I hope this is satisfying to someone out there.

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Anima Curanda (A Soul Who Will Be Cared For)

Summary: Hop tries finding his way back to civilization after a trip field gone wrong, Gloria finds her best friend injured in Postwick and the air surrounding them is filled with unanswered questions, undisclosed pain and concerns. A lot of concern.

Fandom: Pokémon Sword and Shield Ship: Pre-rel Hop/Gloria (Postwickshipping)

Wordcount: 3.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Hahaha, it hurts! It just hurts!

What hurts? Too much to keep track off, frankly. He just aches all over, from head to toe; from the migraine of having barely slept to the pain of having walked and biked for days and days; from the dark thoughts he tries to keep buried from the outside world and the hazards on the ground that he stumbles over when he starts to overthink things.

 Despite how many times he’s been curb-stomped to the ground, how many times he’s flown in the air after the shockwave a move can make, and how much all of these hurt afterwards, he’s kept rising to his feet over and over again. He’s lost to his rival ten times already, he’ll never shine as bright as his brother or the friend he spent his childhood with, unbeatable as they are and ordinary as he is. He’s nothing special, nothing shiny, just nothing.

Portraits of Lee decorating the living room and countless discussions between his own family aside, there’s a lot of other things that tell him he’s the inferior product. A lot of other little, tiny things – of details, even – that ache to think about, that pinch his heart to the point of being slightly nauseous.

 Everyone on his team has fainted, aside from Dubwool who’s courageously fighting the hail with him. He regrets having ever taken his first partner, his most loyal one, away in some PC box out of the sheer mass of his insecurities, of that constant will to improve despite nothing good ever coming from that. He hangs onto its Ball as firmly as he can, the strength of it making him afraid he’ll make it shatter if he clenches it too strongly.

He’s actually surprised he feels this strong to begin with. After trekking for days, fighting everything he could, trying to find new members to reinforce his team, it’s surprising he can still think of himself as strong enough to do that. If it wasn’t for the pain bolting in his chest, he wouldn’t be clenching that ball as if his life depended on it.

 And what a pain it is! It started with the missed Psycho Cut of a wild Gallade, whom Corviknight had narrowly the assault of shortly before getting taken down itself, hitting right into the left side of his chest and most likely at least making some internal damage in there. That was around two days ago, if he isn’t wrong, and it’s shown no sign of hurting less anytime soon.

It bruised rapidly, or so he thinks compared to those he’d often get when he was younger (and also not unlike the ones Lee got during the Eternatus incident, on second thought…). Pressing a hand against it too strongly makes him yelp in pain while his skin keeps worsening in colour around where he got it. He was lucky for it not to have bled on the spot, but that doesn’t make anything much better: it still hurts a ton and he still has trouble breathing because of it. If it’s not getting better after a couple days, when will it do so?

 At times, black dots appear all over his vision, for some reason, and he starts swaying and staggering until Dubwool catches him back with its fur. He used to apologize verbally, the first times that’d happen; but he’s found himself having less and less breath to give his excuses with. Sentences became a couple words, words some syllable.

It doesn’t help that he’s constantly lightheaded and easily gets dizzy. If he moves a little too rapidly, his vision goes for a swim and may not come back. If it wasn’t for Dubwool fending off the Sneasels that take interest in them at times, he’d have been a goner for sure. He has the feeling this is all related to his injury, to that toxic-looking bruise that’s festering under his miserable layers, but doesn’t see exactly how. Well, that’s not entirely true: he can easily suppose it’s because that injury makes it harder to breathe, so much harder, because of the pain it fires up in him every time he tries to speak and breathe.

 The city is in sight. Wyndon’s lights and tower are in view, and he finally feels some relief, Dubwool seemingly bleating in agreement. However, right as he charges his legs to rush there, he trips over some ice, his damp sole gliding for a split second, losing his balance and falling again. Dubwool doesn’t have the time to react properly and stop him, so he falls right on his chest from all of his height, a sickening thumb resonating with his fall. The air gets propelled out of his lungs in one fell swoop, dizzying him even further.

He has no time to lose, especially not what he’s that close to the city, so he tries getting up on his arms. The pain that has been dully brushing against his ribs is now acting in an even fuller swing, the black dots not leaving his line of sight, almost preventing him from breathing altogether. He could stop to take a taxi, but what if he’s to pass out before it even comes? No, no, he has no time to lose…

 His legs have endured a beating of their own before, decorated with scratches and bruises from the rocks he didn’t see coming and the claws of the local wildlife, tired of pushing on themselves to make him keep going. As a result, he has to use Dubwool as a support, failing to rise up once or twice before managing to finally regain a footing and continue his route to Wyndon. He’ll be there soon, he’ll be able to know what’s wrong and to finally give himself actual rest. Arceus, doesn’t that sound amazing?

He suddenly coughs violently, not even having the time to say anything or even put a hand in front of his mouth. He’s left gasping for air, unable to really make oxygen enter his chest anymore, especially once he sees what has just gotten out of his system, spread on the snow like an unremovable stain on an immaculate carpet. This is it: he has to go forward now or he’ll never see the light of day again.

 With tremendous efforts, he makes it to Wyndon, out of breath; legs shaking in instability and arms tired of holding a hand against an injury that most likely doesn’t get any better from getting pressed. He’s still coughing, even if it hurts him even more to do so, and he’d just like to laugh it all off. He’d have done that if the pain wouldn’t get even more excruciating from such a gesture alone. The Centre is very much near now, and he can get there if his chest doesn’t give up on him too. Still, there’s another sight that makes him stop for a few seconds, and a shiver goes down his spine.

In the distance is his childhood best friend, his journey companion, his (former?) rival, waving at him vigorously. She’s smiling, grinning even, as he runs towards him. It’s only when she notices the hand clutching the hurtful part of his abdomen that Gloria drops the smile and immediately worries. It’s kind of hard to say for sure when most of his vision is blurry from the tears that are flooding it by the second.

D-dammit, he doesn’t want to worry her of all people!

 “Hop, are you alright?” She asks, voice hesitant, in a tone he hasn’t heard in a little while.

“Y-yeah, I… I should be… real soon…!” He’s breathless and speaking hurts even further; yet tries smiling, only for his face to follow his chest.

“You’re sure about that? You look like you’re in pain!”

“It’s nothing…! I pro –”

Before he can pronounce his false oath, he starts coughing again, despite all his best efforts not to. The thing building up in his airways gets out anyway, no matter what he wants, and his vision starts swimming again. He’s afraid he’ll blackout before he can reach the Centre, so he should quickly stop that conversation and…

“Let me see.”

 He stares at her for a millisecond, eyes squinting. He was just about to grab a tissue and clean the inside of his palm.

“Hop,” her voice strengthens, reminiscent of the Champion who’s beaten his until then undefeatable brother. “Please, Hop, let me see. It really doesn’t sound right.”

He reluctantly gives her his hand, the black dots dancing around them like will-o-wisps. She doesn’t respond to it, her reaction instead cementing itself in silence. That is, until she finds what words she wants to put on it. It drops in a glacial, no-nonsense tone, raw and undignified:

“…I’m calling for help.”

 Before he could interrupt her attempt at doing so, the quick move he tried to pull off to do so makes itself felt and he collapses on his knees, the pain in his chest unbearably intense. It’s like he’s been kicked in the abdomen, and then someone was twisting something inside of it. Breathing is becoming impossible, or at least barely, from how painful it is to inhale and exhale, from how difficult it is to simply focus on that with such a hazy mind. He wants to cry, but that sounds like choking himself even further…

Gloria seems to be over with her call rapidly, as she next kneels down to his level, her warm hands on his cold shoulders, then on his forehead. Her touch is delicate, as if she’s stroking crystal, while he’s busy not strangling himself with whatever’s happening inside of him at the moment. She gives him soft words of reassurance, shelters him with her arms from the rest of the world, tells him he doesn’t have to lie or suffer anymore. He likes that. He wishes his arms could do the same for her, but she simply is so much stronger than he is, and there is nothing he can do about it. Maybe, one day, he’ll be able to pay her out…

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon,” is the last thing he hears before his vision fades to black.

  Gloria wishes she could have been waiting with Dubwool by her side, both so she wouldn’t be alone and because it’s her best friend’s closest partner; but, naturally, that’s not possible in a hospital, so she instead fumbles with its Ball.

She tried calling Leon and Sonia earlier to warn them about what had happened, but neither of them responded. If she’s to assume, she’d say Leon is busy with managing the Battle Tower and Sonia is head-deep into her studies, may have had a sleepless night and is now snoring over her desk, left unable to be awaken by her phone (which she most likely put on Plane Mode anyway…). She’ll have to wait for them to pick them back up and call her back, then. Ah, that sort of stuff happens. Plus, they can’t have known.

They really can’t guess what happened.

 She can’t quite put back the pieces, at the moment, because of how little she knows about the sequence of events that brought Hop to Wyndon, on a fairly sunny day with cold air, with most of his party fainted, an exhausted Dubwool and, most of all, a couple broken ribs. If Hop can communicate with Dubwool, then she really can’t, even if she’s never wished that much in her life that she could understand bleating. She hadn’t even considered the question until today!

What worries her the most is the blood he was spitting when he was trying to talk to her. Is that a symptom of broken ribs? She can’t remember having ever broken such a bone in her life, or known someone who did. Truth be otold, there may have been that one time where that could have happened, but she never got to know why. A few years ago, the neighbours suddenly went to Wyndon for a week, taking Hop with them, and Mum just kept saying that things would be back to normal soon. She didn’t lie, but the sketchiness of it all makes her suspicious… It doesn’t help that, that year, the Gym Challenge finals got postponed.

 Still, there’s something inside of her that just knows something’s gone terribly wrong. She can’t exactly pinpoint how, or why, or if it’s even possible that such a feeling could be right. All she knows is that she’s having an awful impression of it all and that her heart is beating in overdrive. Winding out is not exactly the easiest thing to do when she’s stuck in a waiting room, having to choose between pacing indefinitely or sit on a chair and play around with her fingers or her phone.

She’s tempted to go outside to wait for the news to be given to her, absolutely; but she’s afraid that, if she does so, the doctors will have nobody to give it to if she’s still outside by then. That’d be underestimating how much she wants to see him, to know what exactly happened and how she, as a Champion and as a friend worthy of such name, can fix things. That’s part of her missions as Leon’s successor, right?

 Set on staying here until someone gets out of the operation room, the bright red light of the “In Use” sign sitting over the doorframe whose direction she regularly glances at still shining over the daylight pouring through the windows, Gloria settles on studying her surroundings yet again. The walls are still white and pristine, with barely any spot or stain to be noticed. The floor is covered by a layer of grey linoleum, as boring to comment on as it’s functional. If she can guess such a room is regularly cleaned, she can also tell there’s been a couple stretchers that have wheeled through it to the operation room today already. The lines and stains left by these, unlike the walls, are still visible.

The room is empty and, aside from her unnerved breathing and impatient footsteps, silent. The soundproof walls make it so she can’t hear a thing, even if she puts her ear against the wall, morbidly curious, trying to keep herself from dipping into some seriously messed-up thoughts that have been trying to assault her mind ever since Hop started showing signs he wasn’t as fine as he’d have liked her to believe.

 In a way, it’s funny that he’s doing exactly the same thing as his brother. They both said “I’m fine, don’t worry” at times where they knew they weren’t. Still, she doesn’t think that Hop did that on purpose, now that he’s tried freeing himself from Leon’s shadow. It’s more of a thing that she sees herself doing… As hypocritical as that may be, and as much as she dislikes knowing he purposefully lied to her thinking it’d be the right thing to do for her sake, she can understand it. She can understand it and that has to be why she hates it so much…

Gloria’s back hits the wall as she glides down to her feet, crouching with her forearms on her knees. Time’s too long and she’s getting nauseous from the anxiety that keeps piling in her throat and chest, heart throbbing. Trying not to cry is already a behemoth task in itself, so she focuses on that, only for her thoughts to change back to what could be happening and questions she can’t have an answer to.

 She snaps back to reality when the red light turns off and the door finally opens, revealing a gurney getting wheeled to the other side of the room and a surgeon, still wearing his stained scrubs, walking up to her. She stands back up, rising herself on stiff and yet trembling legs, and lies back against the wall, gulping. Her mind rings and burns with a thousand questions; but her voice can’t catch up, not even a whisper exiting her mouth. The man gives her a tired, yet soft smile back:

“Your friend will be fine. Absolutely is the brother of the former Champion, his fighting spirit showed in the OR…”

 She has to retain herself from hugging the man right in front of her and give him a waterfall of thanks. Instead, she remembers for a split second she’s the current Champion, shakes her head and keeps the waterworks from unfolding for a little while longer:

“Thank you so much, doctor.”

  There is a silent horror seeping in her veins from being here. Everything about the room is eerie: the slow, somewhat regular beeps of a monitor; the oxygen mask sitting there, accompanying an otherwise soothing breath; the abnormal serenity of the air around her, the whiteness of a room that reminds her of the snow and the smell of antibiotics.

She remembers waiting in a lobby with Hop decorated like that in Hammerlocke, his hand clutching hers while he tried not to bit his thumb or cry in stress, the both of them tired and battered yet the lucky party of the fight against Eternatus. She remembers the horrified yet relieved look on his face as they discovered in what state his brother was. She remembers the words that got out of his mouth, how he found it so creepy to have Lee lying there, almost lifeless.

Surely there is some irony to be found about Hop now playing that role.

 It hurts to be there, to see the time standing still yet again, as she waits for him to wake up. A part of her does like him to be resting after the nightmare he must have endured to end up like that. With the injuries he’s sustained, it’s only normal he doesn’t wake up immediately. She’s trying to combine that with the effect of sleeping gas, but as a girl who’s never had a surgery, it’s hard for her to estimate such a thing. She’s got to wait and…

“Gl…”

 She’s about to drift off when she realizes Hop’s head is now turned towards her, the faintest smirk on his lips. He looks beyond tired, exhausted by the experience and the trauma of the surgery, pale all around, but he’s still here, safe. The light press she feels on her hands makes her realize she’s been holding his all along. That’d be embarrassing if she wasn’t trying to get her priorities straight.

“Hop, you’re awake!” That’s beyond obvious, what’s the point of saying aloud like that? Maybe it’s just from the sheer happiness of this being a fact…

“T-thanks…”

 His voice is weak, low and raspy, barely more hearable than a whisper; quite the opposite of the roaring tone he’d usually speak in. Still, that’s his voice, that’s him being able to breathe yet again, and it’s more than enough for now. Of course, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t wish deeply for his recovery to happen soon; that’s just settling down for a sustainable goal for now. Better not rush things in, for she has a feeling that may have happened to her good old friend over here…

“How are you?” She asks, keeping her own voice down.

“Huh… Sore…?”

“Better than gone, I suppose.”

“…Yeah…”

 Hop inhales deeply, wincing slightly when he does. A slow hand strokes the left side of his chest, trying to calm something down.

“A-again… Thanks for… y’know… saving me…”

“That was nothing. We have to look out for each other, don’t we?”

“Ha… Yeah…”

The mood sinks with his smile, dragging her heart with it.

“Sorry for… that…”

 Gloria doesn’t reply immediately, letting a silence settle itself, uncomfortable and thick.

“You’re having problems breathing, right?”

He nods.

“No wonder you do, with what you got for yourself… How did you even go for that long with these injuries?”

“I wanted to… make sure my… team would be safe.”

“The good news is that they’re safe, now. Dubwool seemed really worried about you when I found you two!”

“He’s such a great ’on, right…?”

“He sure is.” She clears her throat. “Anyway. I meant to ask you to be easier on yourself from now on. It was really heart-breaking to see you like that struggling to even breathe.”

“Sorry for being such a klutz… Got hit by a Gallade… Slipped on some ice…”

“…and pierced your lung.”

 He freezes.

“So, as I said: don’t do that again, okay? You deserve a lot more than dragging yourself like that, Hop.”

He looks aside.

“You… think?”

“Of course I do! What am I to you, a liar?”

He almost laughs until his pain catches back to him, causing the fit to immediately stops in its tracks.

“’t wasn’t what I meant…!”

“I guessed so.”

 It’s to Gloria’s turn to look aside and feel something burn inside of her, scratching her chin with her finger.

“I meant to say, you’re amazing, Hop. I don’t want to see you go like you almost did. What’s a Champion without her rival?”

“Huh…”

“That’s right, not the same person! You matter very much to so many people! So, please, can you take care of yourself?”

Hop still doesn’t reply. He looks like he’s lost his words somewhere along the way.

“Not for anyone either. For yourself. I… I hope you’ll one day understand how important you are.”

She can understand she’s being confusing and emotional. Trying to pull strings together is harder than usual.

“I’ll try that, then…”

“Good.”

 The two of them settle in a comfortable silence. She’ll have to ask him when he’s better what happened to him in case such a disaster is to happen again (which she really hopes it doesn’t). For now, he’ll recover, and she’ll be by his side as he does so. Too bad for her Battle Tower scores and public interventions, some things just matter more than clout and fighting experience.

You know, once she’s sure they’ll be safe and sound, she can tell what’s truly on her mind and heart. It seems like he still doesn’t have a clue as to what’s hiding under the rocks…

  “Hop!!”

Busting through the door, not even waiting for a yes or a no, Leon enters the room his baby brother is stuck in. Soon, however, his intense concern turns into a sort of awkwardness and utter surprise when he realizes he’s facing his brother and his best friend sleeping against next each other, their hands fiddled together.

 Before he can mellow out and smile at the sudden sight of safety and softness, Sonia’s voice comes from behind his shoulder.

“Let them sleep instead of screaming like that, you big idiot.”

He has to agree with her, so his shoulders untenses as he lets her enter and closes the door behind them.

[oflgtfol]

bc i cant stop thinking abt that dream.. im gonna elaborate on it because it was so detailed and so long and felt so real

so it started off with me in a small library but like, it was so cramped and the lights were off. bookshelves were everywhere, and most were like only waist high? strange adults were everywhere, standing against the walls/shelves or sitting in the aisles. all had their hands cuffed behind their backs or in front of them and they all had like, tape or something over their mouths. but there were some adults among them in bullet proof vests and with guns in their hands. i dont know the situation like i dont even think i acknowledged it in the dream but from context clues im p sure it was like a hostage situation

so im in there sneaking around, in the back of my mind i just Know that my parents and my brother are also in the room also sneaking thru the aisles. all the hostage adults are staring at me like, acknowledging that they know im here to help rescue them. so after a few close calls around corners almost getting caught by the gunmen i get to a somewhat open area, meanig that its still cramped but its a small square between bookshelves with a table and 2 chairs. theres a TON of hostages squeezed into this area. i knew that that was the objective, that i had to get there

so me and my family burst forward and the gunmen spot us, but the hostages all help us overwhelm the guys. the gunmen are shooting blindly into the crowd, aiming mostly for me and my family, and SOMEHOW everybody else dodges it but me. literally it went in slow motion and i saw it like in third person, watching it come towards me and i was like “watch it hit me lmao. oh fuck its actually gonna hit me”

so i get shot in my stomach during all this and the pain just, it wasnt all that bad really? like it felt like uhm. getting hit with a water balloon actually (i was just in a water fight yesterday and now upon realizing this its like.... did that contribute to this dream....) so then its all clear like the bad guys are defeated, it gets kinda blurry at this point but i know in some disembodied way that i told my parents after everything wrapped up when they were asking if everyone was okay that i was hit, and they like, didnt care. i was like “HEY i got SHOT in the stomach!” and theyre like k and it took them foreverrrrrrr to get me medical attention. and i wasnt even.. bleeding outwardly? so i was so worried about internal bleeding because like HEY i have a bullet in me so i must be bleeding somewhere like,,, come on lmao

the next like visual thing i remember is in the hospital. its been a while since like, i woke up so this is kinda blurry too but i remember being put into a wheelchair by some nurses.. ive been in a wheelchair only once and that was in 2nd grade but this one i was allowed to use like, on my own, so it threw me off? and at this point i was like, fuck, i’ve been shot before when i was little. i’ve done this before. i had to go into surgery and everything. but it was all vague flashes i could barely remember it but it felt a lot like when i remember the major things from my childhood that i just COMPLETELY forgot about for so long, like speech therapy? like i had gotten injured from a gun when i was less than ten years old and i just, forgot about that? i was like HOW did i forget about this

so i was already in the hospital at this point but for the one room, i wheeled up to the entrance and it felt kinda like the 11th/12th grade cafeteria entrance that i use in school?? a small double door, blank walls, kinda dark, empty, and there was a nurse checking us in. at this point i was surrounded by all my classmates from my ap lang class, or maybe not ap lang in particular idk since like all the ap kids are mostly grouped together despite class? idk man. but my classmates were literally all fine idk why they were there? they werent even there for checkups or anything (disregarding the fact that you dont get a check up at a hospital you get that at a normal doctors office..) so i was there in my literal wheelchair and the nurse was like “wait your turn!!” she was really snooty it was annoying i was like, word for word, “uhm HELLO i have a GSW in my abdomen!!!!!!” and my one classmate finally spoke up as he was being checked in he was like “uh hey brot is here and like, got shot, so i think she should go first lmao?” so the nurse finally smiled at me and admitted me in

and it led to this small cramped room where they scanned your entire body for every single thing wrong with it adn they displayed it on a board where everyone could see, including my classmates, and i was like ohh my god. oh my god. the nurses were like “hm you could eat better but overall you’re in good health!” and i was like DUDE thats embarrassing i dont want everybody to see all my minute issues and LIKE I AM LITERALLY INJURED I HAVE A BULLET IN MY STOMACH WHY ARE YOU DISCUSSING MY DIET WHEN THERE ARE MORE PRESSING ISSUES...

so finally we go into the actual room and its this giant giant mostly empty room, im remembering this room from my first go at this from when i was a kid. theres a table in the middle thats pretty big but has.. no chairs around it... but theres puzzles and weird bookmark things scattered around on it to keep you occupied, and then theres a single table far removed from everything else, only long enough for a body and slightly wider, and theres one identical to that on the other side of the room. and i know from when i was a kid that those are for surgeries and like, i KNOW this but i was like, wrow thats unsanitary lmao

so i go to the table in the middle because thats where you’re supposed to wait till you’re called for surgery, but im so ANXIOUS because like.. its surgery... and now im remembering more of it from when i was a kid like im remembering going into it, waking up from it... my classmates are all sitting on the table like its some casual after school thing, theyre all talking

and then i remember from the first surgery. i remember the surgery itself. i apparently wasnt put under for it. i was conscious during it. i was numbed out obviously but like, i was AWAKE, and that makes me SO fucking scared for my upcoming surgery. like, enough that some of my classmates sense that im getting more and more anxious so they start shoving the bookmarks in my face, and the bookmarks are like the weird ones from the library irl that have quotes on them, and like i cant even read any because im just so anxious like im keeled over in the wheelchair so anxious about it, and the fact that my classmates are trying to interact with me during this is just making it worse like i APPRECIATE trying to make me feel better but i CANNOT read right now

and like, i was never called for surgery? im sitting there until the sun sets, but i only know that because i eventually leave the room just needing to do SOMETHING and the hospital lobby, for all the people waiting for patients? is empty and the sky outside is the dark blue kind of like, twilight

i really dont know how this dream suddenly turns, like i cannot remember the breaching moment and idk if its because its been almost 12 hours since i woke from the dream or if there even WAS a breaching moment

but the next thing i know is that me and shannen are running (me wheeling furiously) along the top of some like, wall. and the hospital looming in front of us is now some sort of fortified citadel, and we’re on one of the defensive walls around it, theres towers and spires everywhere in the distance around the citadel. and theres fucking. ANGELS attackign the place. the angels are classic white dress wearing, harp playing, type creatures but their eyes are all closed and black tears are running down their faces, and literally everything else about them is white. the dresses are this weathered white, their skin is weathered white (like, like marble but without the darker lines yknow?), and their eyes + tears are the darkest things on them so they stand OUT. and their mouths are flat lines, also black like as if its like, lineart or something yknow? like their faces look like masks but they arent. they have harps in one hand and then LONG ass swords in their other hands and they are fuckign terrifying

so me and shannen are outside of the main area of attack and we stumble upon this part of the wall thats like, collapsed, and theres a fucking OCEAN next to the citadel. so the stones that have fallen into the water, theres some sort of chariot on it with the same kind of look as the angels, white + black accent kinda look to it. the chariot is low lying and theres a figure laying over it, collapsed, reaching forward at nothing almost like a zombie trying to move? and he.. god i wanna say it was icarus but i really dont know because i feel, deep down that his name started with an e but i have no idea what dude it would be then bc i know it was a guy from greek mythology somehow but IDK WHO... so this guy also has the same vibe as the angels but his face is like, a fuckign mess, like it looked like he was melting (maybe thats why i wanna say icarus idk) but the melted parts were black, plus the black eyes (whcih were semi open) and the black tears and his mouth was kinda open in a silent wail (also black). i wanna say he had black hair too but idk maybe the whole black mass on his overall head was just the melting.. and this melted black liquid is strewn all over the chariot and the stone block thats barely out of the water. and out of the water, behind the chariot, all the angels were bursting forward and heading to the citadel like as if it was the Angel Spawn Point

IDK it was such a weird fuckign sight it looked like a fallen angel but i just knew deep down that it was some guy from greek mythology but I DONT KNOW WHO IT WOULD BE especially with a name starting with e..!!!

anyway yeah i woke up then. the whole angel sequence was super short compared to the rest of the dream, but it was more on par with what i normally dream than the rest? like i dont recall ever having guns in my dreams except for maybe one dream in middle school that was like,,,,, nuclear apocalypse type thing......... and never have i ever been like, INJURED like that in a dream? i’ve died in dreams yeah but ive never been like.. shot.. the closest thing i can think of was that one weird borderline nightmare earlier this year where i died of internal bleeding in school due to school negligence..... hm!

like idk this was just such a weird dream i normally have very very wild dreams with a more fantasy element to them, and the mundane ones are just me in school or on tumblr, like ive never had like, an ACTION MOVIE kinda thing??

and it felt SO REAL like when i woke up i literally thought that i had some sort of repressed gun related traumatic event from my childhood that i was only uncovering now and it was only when i realized that i was in bed and not like, at the hospital with a gun wound in my stomach, that i was like oh haha no thats not real

[megabadbunny]

How do you know the difference between just needing more self-discipline and being ADHD? I've been told all my life I have so much potential if I could just put my mind to things and work hard, but I have a hard time explaining that it isn't that easy... Idk. I don't want to be falling for the special snowflake thing pathologizing my laziness or be making excuses, but I also would love help if it's out there and this is really a problem that might have a name and ways to cope

Hey there hon! That’s a really good question. (Sorry it took me a minute to answer, I’ve been trying to gather my many many thoughts in a way that hopefully makes sense!) 

I was hoping for a gif of a squirrel gathering nuts but I found this instead so y’know you’re welcome

I’m sure it’s different for everyone, but I’m happy to share how it works for me, if that helps! For me the line can be blurry at times since one issue seems to feed into the other–that being said, there seems to be a difference with regards to intent/purposefulness? Like when I’m feeling lazy/unmotivated/utterly lacking in discipline, there tends to be this sense of, “Meh, I’ll get around to it eventually,” or “Dear God this is boring” or “Welp it’s not going my way so this project can suck it” or “If I wait long enough someone else will take care of it for me so I don’t have to step away from my 800th play-through of the original Spyro the Dragon”. (That’s what all the hip kids are playing these days, right???) I feel like laziness is rarely accompanied by remorse or self-reflection or analysis and is ultimately about an active choice not to do something–“I don’t feel like doing it, so I’m just not gonna”.

(But of course it should be noted that laziness or a lack of self-discipline do NOT a bad person make; if they did, we’d all be in trouble, because EVERYONE, regardless of mental health, struggles with laziness and/or self-discipline at times!)

ADHD-borne-issues, on the other hand–in my experience–tend to involve a certain amount of executive dysfunction, obliviousness to things that other people find easy to spot or remember, an inability to focus on one thing at a time (i.e. instead of devoting 100% of your focus to one thing, or even 50% to two things, you end up focusing like 2-3% on 50 things, which is functionally useless), and then there’s the absent-mindedness and the daydreaming and the difficulty paying attention if the topic at hand doesn’t interest you, wherein your mind wanders off to who-knows-where in the middle of a task or conversation apropos of seemingly nothing and you don’t even notice it’s happening until it’s over and you suddenly realize you processed absolutely nothing that just happened in the world around you. 

In short, I feel like ADHD issues are often synonymous with simply not being able to hold everything you need to keep in mind, in your mind. So you may tend to overlook stuff that needs to be done even if it’s kind of obvious, or your brain just fucking skips steps in the task for no apparent reason, or you put shit off because you have no idea where to start and it makes you anxious, or the task seems ridiculously overwhelming (even if, in truth, it’s quite simple), or you keep legitimately getting distracted by other shit because maintaining focus on one thing at a time is like trying to maintain a vice grip on a wet bar of soap, etc. etc. etc. So there can definitely be some intent/purposefulness involved, but it’s not as simple as, “Don’t wanna, not gonna.” (Although after years of putting off stuff for ADHD-related reasons, unfortunately it’s easy to fall into a habit of putting shit off simply because that’s now how you’re accustomed to dealing with stuff, which is where the “blurred line” bit comes in.)

It’s also worth noting that, in adults, ADHD is often accompanied by depression and/or anxiety or other comorbid disorders, which can definitely complicate things. For instance, sometimes I have trouble focusing on or completing a task due to a sudden inexplicable drain in my energy (if I’m in a period where I have any energy to begin with), or sometimes if my brain isn’t engaged I will seriously literally lose the ability to stay awake, regardless of how much sleep I’ve had the night before, and I’ll just sleep like a rock through a lecture or in the middle of a movie theater or just because I sat down for two minutes on a friend’s couch. Or sometimes there’s a sudden complete (again, seemingly inexplicable) loss of interest in something that previously captivated me. Then there’s my personal favorite, the panic-ridden self-flagellating anxious procrastination, i.e. that thing where you sit there and think Okay, time to get this done. Get it done. C’mon now, go do the thing. Seriously. Do the thing. Just do it. You gotta do it. Jesus Christ, please just do the thing. It’s not that hard. Other people do the thing just fine. Holy hell your life is so easy why are you making this so difficult for yourself. Just get off your ass and do the thing. What the fuck is wrong with you. JUST DO THE THING but instead of doing the thing you just sit and do something useless like trawl the Internet with 87 tabs open for five hours in a row, hating yourself all the while but seemingly unable to pull yourself away. MMMMM ANXIETY AND SELF-HATE MY FAVORITE.

Ultimately, I think one of the commenters on this thread sums it pretty well:

I think if the desire to function normally is there to the extent where you are upset/distressed by your inability to do so, then its not laziness. If you were lazy you wouldnt give a rats, that you’re trying but not managing, to me, says its something else.

So whether it turns out that you have ADHD or not, whether it’s your brain chemistry fucking with you or you’re struggling with self-discipline, the fact that you’re looking into it and genuinely questioning it is a good thing! That means you’re aware something’s up and you want to work on it. The first step to recovery is realizing there’s an issue, and even if it turns out that your brain is totally free of ADHD or other super fun mental-health-buttholes, you can take steps to make things better for yourself (and again you can rest easy knowing that everyone struggles with self-discipline at times, ADHD or no, so you’re not alone!). And if you think you may have ADHD–if you check a reputable source for symptoms and honestly find that pretty much all of them apply to you on a regular basis–I highly recommend seeking out a counselor if you can, even for just one or two sessions. Even if you don’t end up seeking medication or anything like that, the peace of mind in knowing what’s going on in your brain juices is a huge relief.

(It should also be noted that the meds don’t automatically spur you towards motivation-land so much as–in my experience anyway–they give you the ability to just freaking remember stuff and focus on shit long enough to get it done. They don’t fix you but they do give you the tools to get by, the tools that everyone else seems to have automatically. And there are some side effects to keep an eye out for, but that’s another story. Nothing dangerous in my experience, just a little frustrating at times. :P )

Anyway, I hope there was at least a little something useful in there, and good luck on your quest for the truth! 

[katelinartjoker]

You know I've been thinking about a lot of stuff in my life, and kind of trying to analyze the things that have gone wrong and what has happened (either by my own choices and actions, the ways other people have acted in my life, how I've reacted to the environment around me and then how my reactions created a cycle of cause and effect) and I think a lot of it really stems from not only just my adoption, but how it was carried out and then how, as I got older, my behavior became increasingly chaotic. Early on I became very defiant and argumentative against any authority figure, like the teachers at school, and especially my parents.

But it was dismissed as me just being "emotionally unstable" or difficult, my anger and frustration was seen as just an angsty teen refusing to do what she was told and then misbehaving just for the sake of causing trouble.

But they never looked underneath. Not really. Except to say that I probably had ADHD, behavioral problems, and eventually would end up diagnosing me with Attention Deficit Disorder, depression, anxiety, and bi-polar. Oh, and insomnia.

(But even that could possibly be the subconscious fear of not wanting to fall asleep while I'm alone?)

But they never even really brought up the idea that it might be attachment disorder. Even though we would tell them that I was adopted.

Maybe because I was actually able to form connections with my family? At least, for the most part?

But even then, I've always been known to kind of just "go off and do my own thing" or "stay in my room" a lot. I tend to "zone-out" rather often and easily during conversations, into my own thoughts/imagination.

There will even be times when I forget what I'm saying mid sentence.

-- also times where I’ll be with a group of friends or family, and I’ll be enjoying myself and being around the people I love, but then all the sudden I just get a strange feeling where I like... dissociate or something. I kind of feel like my body freezes up, and I get locked inside my mind. I’ll just stare at something at a distance and let my vision get blurry, and almost feel like I’m separated from reality.

Not, completely, of course because I know that I’m still part of this world and I have to abide by its laws and physics.

So I’m not saying that when I have this sensation of “losing touch with reality” that I feel like I could go jump off a building and be able to fly, or that I’d have superhuman strength or be immune to any kind of damage or illness.

But... there are a lot of things in this world that make me not want to deal with daily human existence. A lot of things that have been bothering me for a long time that I’ve never really talked in detail about, that I think have really affected my mental health and general state of being. Lots of events from my past that people either don’t know about, don’t know how/don’t want to help me with, tell me to just learn to get over it, or charge too much in order to be willing to help me get over it.

Idk. I feel like it’s a story worth sharing though. Even if no one learns anything from the high multitude of mistakes I’ve made in my life, at least they would get some entertainment value in the sheer amount of ridiculousness lmao.

I’ve kind of been working on writing out as many important events from my life that I can remember. Especially ones that I think might have meaning/impact on who I am now.

I want to get enough of it put together and then see if I could get someone interested in working with me on a documentary, or a docuseries, or even a series that’s fictional but highly based off of events from either my life, or other people’s lives that I’ve known.

Cuz I’ve got a shit ton of content just from me alone, and then what would be cool is to open it up to other “characters” that could be representations of some of the people in my life.

I’ve always been good at drawing characters and even taking inspiration from other characters from shows or movies I love.

But when I try to “make up” a character’s personality and history from scratch, I have no idea where to start.

Yet, when I see certain people or interact with them, I get inspired by their personalities and their behavior, and what makes them happy.

What makes them who they are.

So maybe I just need to start looking for inspiration from my life, and other people in it to create my little sitcom or dramatic comedy.

Of course, I’d never make any one character so identical to someone else that it made it completely obvious.

I don’t want people to hate me for my interpretations on life hahaha 😂

Idk.

[letme-rant]

pus was coming out of my eyelid 4 nights ago, i can’t seem to see (literally) properly because 1/3 of my right vision is blurry but i am so thankful for i have seen (metaphorically) the clearest of people and the situations that i should remove myself from (despite the semi-blindness)

**the pus is not from the allergy lol this was entirely on me cause i couldn’t stop scratching my eyes because of the itch so i cut my eyelid and it bled + weep - also this confirms that i can NEVER keep long nails**

"thank you” for leaving me the better half of the time just hanging - while i desperately figure out where i went wrong. (it obviously have to be my fault, right?) and when i tried to reach out, you see no reason to actually respond. i thought of the worst (terminal disease) and blamed myself for not being understanding enough, but i quickly snapped out of it because i could not possibly understand WHAT I DON’T KNOW. maybe i could have handled the situation better, but i have lost every sense to what/who i’m fighting for.

i am crap at admitting when i’m wrong, i admit that it’s the ego. (”who are you to say i’m at fault” y’know?) guilt usually resonates in me longer than it should have, but i’ll get there. i’m not heartless, it is known that i have too much feelings, and i spend way too much overthinking.

i found a note which i wrote in 2014, and it dawned on me further that the problem then didn’t go away, we simply brushed it off. clearly, i have found the answer to all of my questions and that you have made your choice; not that there was any ultimatum in the first place.

(i wrote this june 1st 2014)

How do you go about feeling after you lost a friend? What do you do when you waited three years to celebrate your birthdays together just to let it pass in a blink with a one-sentenced wish. Do you dwell on it because it didnt happen the way you hoping it would turn out or you move on cause youre supposed to be 24, and birthdays mean nothing anymore.

Who do you talk to now, when the only person that suppose to get you make you feel lost, because its better to be silent now. Who do you confide when the only person you think wouldnt judge you, starts to tell you all the things you dont want to hear. Whos going to laugh at your jokes, your bitchings. Whos going to complete your sentence, whos going to be your mind just cause.

I remember talking about the wedding a few years back, how i promised to hold your hand cause both of us know you need it. How we would slam every detail prior the wedding cause its easier (And more fun) that way. How we imagined your escape plan with the groom. If that fail, how frothing would be inevitable. Now i find myself trying to find the right words to say because maybe you dont want me to get you anymore.

We have our awkward moments but never this. We literally survived distances, thousand of miles for years, but this is the worst. I want to reach out, but I feel like its better not to. Sometimes it drives me crazy that im not talking to you every minute of the day like how we used to, it disgusts me that I am actually numb to the change. A change which I didnt ask for.

But ive come to learn that in life we lose people along the way, but that doesnt mean we love them any lesser. I try to find little pieces of you in the people that are in my life now, but itll never be the same. We will never fall right back into our little bubble. Tonight i feel the most affected idk why but i know when i wake up tomorrow i will be okay. Just like how i know you are.

I rlly want the best for you even if i havent been the best. Im melodramatic like this and might continue to reminisce once in a while, but Ive accepted that weve grown apart. The feeling sucks, but its okay.

I love you, and whatever happens from now, thanks for accepting my lunch date 7 years back after soccer practice and all the in betweens.

i am upset, and honestly angry. total opposite to the tone of the note above, but you need to know that there is just so much that i can/will do.

/////

honestly i think i edit this post more than 10 times, because everything i thought i felt at the/an exact moment just change the next. should i be more open to what you’re going through (which i know nothing about) or do i deserve to actually feel a bit hurt with the whole situation.