#my tablet died while making this rip

[ruetheabyss]

@castercassette for the cowboy au because i couldn't let this go!

So you all know those amazingly sweet side characters who just hang around in the background being the best and then all of a sudden you push them and they turn out to have final boss energy? yeah that, couldn't let it go, im obsessing over music horse it's true.

[skrunksthatwunk]

(nanako voice): dear brother, i am being haunted by visions of starnge and beaudiful goirls

[fic-tion-wri-ter]

"Awake"

Ricky Potts x Misha Bachynskyi x Noel Gruber

Post Cyclone Accident

Ride The Cyclone

SFW

Misha can't see very well. It's super fucking bright. He hears something drop next to him. A loud metal noise. He needs to wake himself up. What the hell is happening? He feels a tube ripped from his throat and wants to gag. Who's touching him? He hates this. He hates it. Tears poke at his eyes. He can't be vulnerable. He's never vulnerable.

"Let me see him!", a familiar voice begs. It's so very distant, but he hears it. Who is it? Fuck it sounds so much like someone he knows. Think Misha, is it someone from school? The choir? Noel? Noel! It's Noel.

Misha blinks himself awake to realize he's in a hospital. There are machines attached to him almost everywhere and....oh. He's missing a leg. His right leg is gone. He remembers the events that occurred. The Cyclone, Limbo, the Other Side. Misha sits himself up painfully. He starts to rub at his arms, trying to pull the tubes and wires off of him. He wants everything off. He wants to go back to normal. He lays his head back in defeat until he hears footsteps. He opens his eyes again to see Noel, who now has crutches.

"Misha?", his voice breaks.

Misha nods and holds his arms out for the boy. Him and Noel grew closer during Karnak's game. They even kissed! But that's a later problem. Right now, he needs to comfort Noel. Misha holds Noel in his arms despite the pain of pressure on his stomach.

"You," Noel gasps,"wouldn't," he gasps again, choking on a sob.

Misha holds Noel's head up and takes a deep breath. He needs him to breathe. Noel follows, in and out. He lays on Misha, quietly crying now. Misha cards his hands through Noel's unkempt hair in an attempt to comfort him. He takes in his surroundings while Noel is calming down. His side table was covered with get well cards, drawings, and sweets. Next to his bed was a few blankets, and a hoodie rolled into a pillow. Noel must have stayed here for the whole time he was asleep. It couldn't have been that long, right?

"You wouldn't wake up," the skinnier boy sniffles.

"Hm? Talk, poet," Misha is still quiet due to just waking up.

"Misha, you've been asleep for a month and a half. I thought you died on me, asshole! I thought you left me here," Noel sobs into Misha's chest again.

"I am right here now," Misha traces circles into Noel's back,"I am not going anywhere."

Noel nods and clings to Misha's shirt. He's afraid to ask Noel about his injuries. He looks mostly healed, so why does he have crutches? Misha doesn't know how to feel. He's just so tired. He lays his head back down and adjusts Noel, then drifts back to sleep.

——————————————————————

"Ricky, he's awake again," Noel gently holds Misha's face in his hand.

"Misha," Ricky's AAC tablet speaks.

"Hm?", Misha rubs his eyes and then goes to sit up.

A pain shoots through his stomach, which makes him cry out. He feels someone pick him up a little. It is Noel, who carefully sits him up against the headboard. He sees Ricky wheel over to him with a worried look on his face.

"Hey, Rickster," Misha smiles and ruffles the boys hair.

"Where are you hurt?", the robotic voice of Ricky's tablet speaks up again.

"My fucking leg is gone, and my tummy hurts," Misha whines to the boys.

Noel goes to lift up his shirt but receives a smack to the hand. Misha is insecure about his body. On top of that, he's never told anyone in the choir about his top surgery. He got it done illegally in some backrooms ass hospital. He just wanted to look like a boy. His scars are fucked up but atleast his chest is flat. He notices Noel wince in pain. Fuck, he hit him too hard.

"Poet, I am sorry. I just do not like my body," Misha grabs Noel's hand and rubs a thumb over his knuckles.

"It's okay, Mish," the nickname brought butterflies to his stomach,"Ricky and I need to see how the wound is healing, though. If not us, it'll be a doctor. "

Misha shakes his head no,"Hate doctors. You can see. Ricky too."

Misha hesitantly lifts up his shirt. He looks down to see a scar forming across his stomach. It's fucking huge, badass! Noel nods, he let's Misha put his shirt down. The stitches probably passed his inspection. His gaze drifts back over to Ricky who's flapping his hands and crying.

"Ricky, hey, come here," Misha opens his arms for Ricky.

Ricky nods and wheels himself to Misha. He doesn't know why he's crying. He just feels upset. He brakes his wheelchair and lifts himself up to the boys bed. Noel just watches. He knows Ricky likes to be independent. Ricky collapses onto Misha's chest. He starts coughing. He probably overwhelmed himself.

"My star, look at me," Misha lifts his face up in his hands,"Let's breathe a little."

Ricky nods, still coughing up a storm. Misha takes a deep breath. Then Noel follows to support Ricky. Ricky has a hard time following breathing exercises sometimes. But something must work because soon Ricky is breathing normally again. Noel sniffles a little in the chair he moved next to Misha's bed. He's trying to let Ricky have his moment, but seeing Mischa like this hurts. It hurts them both.

"Both of you," Misha holds Noel's face in one hand, and Ricky's in the other,"I am right here. I am alive. I am healing. I will be okay. No more tears. I am here."

"It...it's just we though you...we thought you were gone," Noel chokes out before letting his head fall into his hands.

Ricky nods in agreement, and soon, both boys are crying again. His coma hurt them a lot. Misha tries to comfort them both, but it proves to be difficult. One hand in Noel's hair and the other tracing patterns into Ricky's back is barely working.

"Guys, I am here. Stop crying I am alive," Misha repeats.

Noel nods and looks up. Misha looks at Ricky, waiting for his confirmation. Instead, the boy is clung onto Misha, letting out little sniffles. Misha runs a hand through Ricky's hair, trying to help him regulate.

Noel holds his other hand,"We slept in here every night. Every night, Misha. We waited for you. I'm just so glad you're back."

Misha smiles,"I will never leave you guys again. I promise. Here take," he holds his pinky out to Noel.

Noel takes Misha's pinky in his own. Pinky promise. It's so childish, it's perfect.

[shamefulbirb]

"And HOW am I suppose to go out like this? Where's my makeup? Hair? Costuming? I'm LANGUISHING away while the audience demands to love me!"

---

Another one for the pin up drawing meme. Markiplier's characters make such great subjects. I'm not an actor simp I swear it's just something about fuckbois

My tablet fuckin died so I guess all the colors are gonna be ai generated this time around. Yall used to sketches here anyhow. Maybe I'll go back and do pose A1 because come on its a movie chair in the pose but I've got plenty to work with, let's see how far this goes. The red silk bathrobe was in the original how could I NOT go for A2

The Emmy is there because I'm manifesting okay, fingers crossed for irl Mark.

I feel like I lured bitches in with nice respectable JSE fanart and now they're getting this shit RIP boyos. You can request characters besides Mark Egos but damn we on a roll.

EDIT: JESUS how did it fuck the formating that bad

Edit edit: the readmore fucked the formatting. OTL delete after the lines if you wish

[flowersandcandy06]

Long death from the net is long (at least like 2 months or so. Whoops o_o), so here's a very scuffed (a kind of long-ish) update post about what happened while I died

(...underneath the post cut, that is, because CLUTTER!!!!! yea👍)

Awwwwlriight caaammpers!! here's bulletpoint number one: I made a webcomic back in June- (WHAT!!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥EXPLOSION NOISES BABIES CRYING etc etc etc-)

...yeah

Randomness is where I pretty much grow my dumb ideas at the wall (usually oc related stuff) and I do freak-all with the thing? And my friends and other people can join in and make entries too if they want to and I think it's so fun and stuff!!!! I LOVE RANDOMNESS RAHHHHHH-

Here's the concept art I made for it because "art block bad" and I have/had to destroy it,,,

...and here's the icon I made for the webcomic on ComicFury (host site)

Currently there's like 30+ entries that I (and my friends) have already made for it, and if I were to repost those entries each day to my online accounts, I feel that would take like..FOREVER to do. So I'm thinking that I either post all of the entries all at once, OR I post them every 30 minutes or so on my accounts.....ill think about it 👍

(here's the link to it, btw:

also I would like to add that you can comment on the pages with/without a ComicFury account, but if you want to subscribe to it then you gotta have an account. Just wanted to note that here 7_7)

----

Alright,, Number 2: I've updated my personal website a TON while I was away (mainly in the "decoration hell" section of it)

I've also made a new guestbook since 123 Guestbook DIED!! (rip) and I'm currently working on an art archive to put on there as well, so I'll let y'all know when that's ready 👍👍👍👍 [Link]

Also regarding "The Hole" project-thingamajig: I have an idea for it kind of like..."rebranding" it almost??? In my head???? But I haven't executed it yet. Somethingsomething rp with OC's with friends in the same vein as that one sonic sjw blog from aeons ago because the izzzyzzz's video is smeared into my brain, but also not so chaotic as that whole mess was, I think. Does this make any sense to you

[...and here's the link to the hole also]

----

Uhhh NUMBER 3: I made a LOT(?) of art stuff while I was dead again - mainly Randomness stuff - but also edits as well, surprisingly enough considering how my electronic drives are literally on life support because of me pretty much (joke)

I'll post them after I post the Randomness pages I think....and I'll get back into the swing of things like how I was doing before B,)

----

Number 4: While I was dead I've been sleeping in a lot, sweating very badly (I HATE SUMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and oh yea skinning my PC because it's very fun and also I have the valve brainrot still (it never ends) and I gotta express that somehow. I'll post an image of what I've got when I hop on my laptop :0

----

Number 5: what else do I add here uhh......oh yea- I've been into visual novels again since I played one recently and plan on playing the totally iconic ATASHINORIRI (banger game 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥) soon. I have so many game ideas in my head still but alas....I am just one girl....with a laptop on life support and whose tablet driver is broken (idk why) so MAYBE ONE DAY!!! but not today.................so sad!!!!

----

Ok that's it from me. Um. Have a swag video from YouTube since you read this thing the whole way through and uhhh yea. bye *explodes*

[cyboppy]

I had a dream last night and part of it had msm. quick note this is kind of disturbing of you don't like voidcorn and I guess body horror (nothing super extreme) oh and light gore for the lack of better word and mentions of heart attacks but nobody dies or even has a heart attack it's just idk

there was a new big green dof island full of faceless woolabees faceless edamimis faceless mammots a single faceless pongping and also voidcorn was there. it was the only thing making noise it was just the demented dream track and the laughs from the fuckin majin sonic thing I can't remember the name and this song was playing distorted in the background but it didn't have bass or drums it was just the. instrument that is the loudest

also I think the faceless monsters all tried screaming like you could tell they were trying to speak but voidcorn wouldn't let them

then the words TACHYCARDIC ARRHYTHMIA!!! TACHYCARDIC ARRHYTHMIA!!! TACHYCARDIC ARRHYTHMIA!!! TACHYCARDIC ARRHYTHMIA!!! TACHYCARDIC ARRHYTHMIA!!! TACHYCARDIC ARRHYTHMIA!!! HEARTATTACKHEARTATTACKHEARTATTACKHEARTATTACKFATALHEARTARRYTHMIAFATALFATALFATLHEARTATTACK went all over the screen from voidcorn like an emergency broadcast on the tv and I started yelling at my tablet for them to stop because while it was yelling about my heart the woolabees on the island just started dropping dead and i think the pongping accidentally. uh. ripped it's face off and fainted (specifically I knew they didn't die for some reason) so I'm really creeped out in the dream at this point and also panicking because my heart was actually beating pretty fast and it hurt (in the dream not irl lmao)

then the camera zooms in on voidcorn while I'm still yelling and they reach their one of their hands out of the screen and grab my chest and they take my heart but for some reason I didn't react to the fact voidcorn. literally stole my heart of my chest then so they go back to the island

and I'm finally able to leave the island so I do and continue playing normal dof like I'm not actively bleeding out. and crying from being terrorized before

[nokingsonlyfooles]

The menus don't work, the menus don't work, the menus DON'T WORK...

OK, my few readers. I took a break, I went back to fix the navigation, it's unfixable as-written.

I need some complex stuff in places, I was willing to forgive WP for putting out a new site editing interface that barely works - as long as it has the basic features someone would use on a storefront. I'm an outlier. I know this.

BUT IT IS NO LONGER POSSIBLE TO CREATE A MENU WITH A WORKING SUB-MENU IN IT. IF YOU TRY, THE SUB-MENU LINKS ARE UNCLICKABLE.

I am using their site editor and their 2024 theme, I should say.

I crossed my fingers and looked for the (now liable to vanish from anything more complicated than a paragraph) "edit as html" option. Nope! It's gone! I can't fix it. I would have to hack the interface somehow to fix this for WordPress, within WordPress.

I had to go looking for plugins. I HAD TO GO LOOKING FOR 3RD PARTY SOFTWARE TO GET A FUNCTIONAL MENU. And, of course, they paywall features I need. I found a "floating" menu that actually does work well enough (it's a little cramped on mobile unless you put the screen in landscape mode, but at this point you should really do that anyway, I can only format so much) but the sub-menu function is paywalled. And I'm actually fucking tempted to buy (haha, I mean "rent") it. Because the damn thing works in dark mode and across devices. And it sticks to the side in a fairly unobtrusive way, which WP's menu will not. It won't stick anywhere. And it sure as hell won't do that thing where you scroll up and it plops down for your convenience.

But if I use that floating menu without sub-menus, it's gonna get longer, and longer, and longer, until it doesn't fit on your mobile screen anymore, or potentially your tablet or desktop, and then I dunno what happens. Also, in order to keep it small, everything is a cryptic icon that displays a title when you tap it (on mobile) or hover over it (on desktop). That's kinda counterintuitive, I don't know if I want my one working menu to be like that.

I might keep looking and find another plugin that also works that well but... it's not likely. Or, if I do, I may run into another paywall. They gotta get their rent somehow!

This is a stupid problem and so far I am unable to come with with a non-stupid solution. I can:

Put all the links in the header menu, and you'll have to scroll through EVERYTHING to find the actual content every time.

Put all the links in the content area, in different places and different combinations depending on the page. (And this would mean doing some reformatting on every instalment AGAIN.)

Start fucking around with the sidebar - I don't know if it works and I'd have to rip up every template I've already made to add it.

Put all the links in the footer menu, and nobody will notice them.

Put all the links in the floating menu (see above for the issues with that).

Make sub-pages for Misc/Notes and similar that are just lists of links and serve the function of a sub-menu.

Actually put the content on the sub-page and have it navigable via anchors (this seems like it would be a bitch to load, but most of my content is just text).

Make a list of links that isn't actually tagged as a menu, thus losing the collapsible function for small screens.

Kill God.

That last one is probably the most doable but I feel like someone would get mad at me. Like, Hazbin Hotel finally got its first season on Amazon, and if God dies they might have to rewrite some shit.

If I don't lay out the money for the cryptic icon menu, we're probably going to end up with three or four accordions that are not technically menus at the top of every page. And I'll hafta check back every once in a while to see if WP fixed their shit yet.

If they don't stick with that site editor and make it useable, all this work is going to vanish like chalk marks in the rain.

I WANTED to put up another six-pack in February. I have it ready to go! But the site doesn't work. If I can't fix it this week, I won't even be able to put things up without illustrations. And forget having time to fill in the missing artwork. I got enough to do trying to kill God!

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 209

Do You Believe In Miracles?

“Do You Believe In Miracles?”

Plot Description: Dean feels the effects of the First Blade, and Metatron makes his move against humanity. Meanwhile, Sam, Dean, and Castiel face shocking consequences

(I guess you can’t give away TOO much of the plot of the season finale there)

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died but Dean’s not lookin so hot

Cool, Dean, you’re coughing up blood now…

I hate everything Metatron does.

You know, Crowley does deserve a nice massage and relaxation. I’m glad he’s getting it.

I half expected Crowley to show up exactly as he was for Dean summoning him

Why does the bunker have so many smells? Crowley mentioned one, now Gadreel

Omg the pan to an annoyed Castiel when Sam said Dean and Crowley had been bromancing this whole season (like, if you didn’t want us to ship destiel why do you do that?? I mean the answer is queerbaiting but anyway)

Amazing how Sam has been all “I wouldn’t save you” all season but now it’s “this isn’t some mindless weapon, this is my brother!”

Crowley teaching Dean to value the time of restaurant workers. I love this for both of them

I feel like angels shouldn’t lie, not because they’re angels, because they’re really bad at it. With perhaps the exception of Metatron. But that’s all the stories he’s encountered all his life

Oooooooo, this other angel is…oh, for a second there I thought he was a plant to make people like Metatron even more since his last miracle. Then I remembered what show I’m watching. I mean, he might as well be one but he’s very earnest. And now he’s dead. RIP nameless ginger angel

Wtf Dean?? Sam did nothing to deserve that sucker punch

Oh. No. He’s turned all these desperate people against Dean now too…maybe.

And just as I was starting to like Gadreel…RIP, buddy.

I forgot Cas was looking for the angel tablet because that’s what’s got Metatron so super powered

Aw hell yeah hell yeah hell…..noooooooooooooo. Just as Cas found it, Metatron stabs Dean in the gut with his angel blade. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK…

Yeah, no shit you being okay with Dean dying by sacrificing himself was a lie

Oooooo, okay, even if he can’t yet save Dean, broadcasting Metatron’s Bond villain speech to every other angel was a good move

“I’m proud of us” EXCUSE ME DEAN?!?! HOW DARE you say that and make me cry my own tears

So both Cas and Dean are standing at death’s door…Dean’s…a little further through the door

Well, Metatron’s not dead but he IS imprisoned in heaven. Which…I guess?

You know, though, it’s been a while since Dean’s DIED died or been on that verge

OH!! OHHHH!! I don’t know that I made it this far back in the day. SO! Cain died at some point in the past (which does make sense since he became a demon and was the one to create AND destroy the Knights of Hell), but the First Blade wasn’t quite done with him…and now, it’s not quite done with Dean either.

Dean’s a demon now, besties

[sortasirius]

Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do.  I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism.  I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless.  I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done.  I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay.  I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be.  I break everything I touch.  All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me.  I am broken.  I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is.  I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing.  I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative? 

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain.  I met an angel, he’s not like I thought.  He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see.  He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me.  He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes.  I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough.  My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it.  The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it.  I think I should consider him a friend.  Lucifer rises anyway. 

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should.  I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people.  Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then.  The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it.  But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them. 

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else.  I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure.  My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him.  I feel guilty.  We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul.  The angel is back, but he’s no real help.  I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons. 

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies.  Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes?  I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look.  I’m not sure why.  The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven.  Why does everyone leave me?  The Leviathan are out there, a new threat.  At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car.  I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain.  I feel like I’m spinning out of control.  My brother loses his mind.  The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts.  When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do. 

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel.  We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me?  We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind.  It turns out my brother didn’t look for me.  Why am I so dispensable?  The vampire is the only one I can trust now.  I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him.  I feel like I can’t save anyone these days.  I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy?  But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him?  I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here.  My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him.  We find a place to call home.  I’ve never had my own bedroom before.  The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him.  He doesn’t answer my prayers.  He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me.  I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too.  He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again.  I wish I was lovable.  I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got.  The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright. 

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him.  My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly.  I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother.  I feel guilty about that.  I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother.  I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him.  I use humor to hide how much I miss him.  My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me.  Well, I deserve it this time.  I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad.  I start to lose my grip on myself.  My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late.  I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes.  I don’t care about anyone, anything.  There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough.  My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me.  I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water.  For a while, I feel loved.  But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it.  I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know.  The angel tries to stop me.  I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over.  But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel.  Death tells me I have to kill my brother.  I almost do it.  But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again.  Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness.  It scares the hell out of me.  I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it.  Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness?  Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad?  I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late?  Why would he leave me like this?  Will I ever get him back?  My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him.  I just wish I could get through to him.  Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half.  We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it?  God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness.  I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it.  The Darkness doesn’t kill me.  She thanks me.

My mother is alive.  It’s everything I’ve always wanted.  I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought.  That’s hard.  Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid.  How will we kill someone innocent?  I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to.   The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him?  We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it?  The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us.  I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away.  The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me.  Why does everyone run from me?  We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer.  He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real.  My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is...  I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back.  You owe me this, please bring him back.  He doesn’t listen.  I’m alone.  We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once.  I hate the kid, this is his fault.  I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time.  I can’t take it anymore.  Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be?  How much more can I take?  It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened.  I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there.  Maybe this time.  We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom.  I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him.  Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it.  I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it.  I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever.  I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule?  I’ll take the ocean every time.  The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words.  The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late.  My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier.  I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more.  I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger.  Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head.  God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along.  Typical.  He kills our kid.  I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real.  How can I believe that?  Is everything I am just a story?  Have I ever chosen anything?  Does the angel really care about me?  Do I really care about him?  Another one of our friends dies.  I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real.  I meet up with someone I loved.  He’s a monster now, I have to kill him.  He dies holding me.  I wish I was dead sometimes too.  My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God.  I’m spinning in circles.  Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again.  He gets taken from me.  I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him.  I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother.  How will I choose?  Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel.  I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me.  He must know.  He doesn’t want me, no one wants me.  Why would they?  Chuck has taken everything from me.  I have to kill him, no matter the cost.  The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death.  I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long.  I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom.  My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him.  He talks me down, he’s the only one that can.  I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage.  I take the angel and we find her, she chases us.  Another trap.  I realize that I’ve trapped us both.  Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me.  He smiles.  He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him.  How can I tell him how he changed me.  He tells me he’ll die for loving me.  Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life.  Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me.  He tells me he loves me.  I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late.  He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now.  I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

[hoaqins-funk-house]

Springtrap

Yandere

Male Reader

You can read part 1 here 

You can read part 2 here

Part 3; Finale

Spinning your keys around your finger, you go to slip them into the backdoor's lock, finding that turning it was difficult. 

Far too difficult.

"Did someone break in?" You mutter, pulling the key out and beginning the walk around to the other entrance. "Well, if they did I doubt they'd stay long, not with William there."

Entering through the front, you look around the dark establishment, trying to spot if anything had been stolen or otherwise interacted with violently. With a sigh of relief at the sight of everything being normal, you fully step in, making your way through the building and wondering with a disgusted expression how William was able to walk through this place barefoot.

Turning the corner that allowed you to look into the window of your office, you see your golden-green companion looking at the door with his head tilted, an unrecognizable expression on his face.

"Yeah, the lock's broken for whatever reason." You say, his gaze shifting before his face does.

"Mhm." He walks towards you, stopping a few meters away. "Say, have you thought about me very much?"

Caught off guard by the question, you tilt your head. "Huh?"

"My existence. How I came to be trapped in a suit." He elaborates.

"Not really, to be honest… why?"

He looks into the office window, eyeing that tablet. "The suit, being an original model, incorporated these little devices known as springlocks."

Your brows furrow. You only knew of Springbonnie and Fredbear from random things online, so the inner workings of them was completely unknown to you. 

"The reason why they're called suits; the springlocks pushed back all the little bits of animatronic things that filled them, thus allowing them to be worn by employees. I, as you can tell, was one of them." His gaze shifts back to you. "However, I wasn't when I was subjected to my slow death."

He takes one small step towards you. "It was in a room known as the saferoom- ironic, isn't it- which was invisible to both cameras and the animatronics that walked around."

His lips twitch up. "I hid in there, waiting for them to come near me. When they did, I broke them. They all came, and all of their shells were destroyed."

Shells? Destroying the animatronics?

You watch as he takes another step forward, this one larger. 

"But, the ones inside those shells weren't so easily deterred."

Ones inside…? 

"They chased me. Forced me into hiding in the suit. They wanted revenge; wanted me dead."

He takes a few larger steps, now within arms length. You, however, grow uneasy, stepping back. His eyes stay locked with yours, a soft grin on his lips. 

You truly do look like his prey.

"I don't blame them. After all, who wouldn't want their murderer dead?" 

Your eyes widen as your suspicions are proven correct. When he takes a step forward, you do the same in reverse. If you look away for one moment, he'll catch you. You've seen his speed.

His eyes glow in the dim light, lips curling into a nightmarishly wide grin.

"Oh, it seems you've figured out my big secret. Does it change your view of me? Would you still wake up on top of me so calmly?" He laughs. "Would you still let me rest my head on your hand? Would you still so easily approach me?"

You were wrong last night. Dead wrong.

He's terrifyingly monstrous, even as a human.

"Well, I suppose my last question has already been answered." With a small chuckle, he jolts forward, you ducking to the side right before he could reach you and dashing off. He glances your way during his brief pause, expression horrifyingly giddy.

 His steps are loud behind you, and you only manage to reach cam 6 before arms cage you in against the wall, you turning to face the grinning man as you push yourself up against the wall as if trying to force yourself through it.

He lifts his hand, placing it on your chin and using his thumb to brush over your cheek. "You're too adorable. You really are like… my prey."

God, the fear in your eyes…

His grin widens a bit more, and his hand slips to the front of your chin. You clench your eyes shut, hearing a gruff laugh before his chapped lips connect with your own. You tense, feeling his other hand grip your wrist, applying more and more pressure until you let out a pained noise, him taking the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your eyes stay shut until he finally separates, where you reluctantly open them once more, finding a very satisfied-looking William and a small string of saliva temporarily connecting your tongues. "Don't worry. It's not the end of us after just that." He assures.

The hand previously on your chin shifts to your hip, where his fingers press somewhat harshly against the cloth, holding you in place further. Leaning in once more, he grins at the tiny whimper that escapes you. Redirecting himself, he instead aims for a much more sensitive area.

You let out a gasp as you feel his lips against your neck, quietly hissing as he harshly bites down, his sharp canines drawing blood. After he has his fill of that, he follows it up by sucking on the spots he had just bit, you feeling your heartrate pick up even more. 

The sound of your heavy, stuttering breaths in his ear certainly doesn’t discourage the man.

Still, he leans back, enjoying the sight of your reddened face as you reach up, covering your neck with your free hand. This, of course, wouldn’t be the end, but he needs to save the rest for later. 

He steps back.

His grip on your wrist, while looser than before, is still firm as he begins to walk you back to the hall in front of the office. "Now, I have a little game for us to play. We've done it before, so I won't explain the rules. If you make it to 6, I'll let you leave. But if you don't…" He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at your panicked face, which he responds to with a smile. "Well, I'm sure you can guess."

Standing in front of the entrance to the office, he waits for you to hesitantly enter. 

"As usual, I'll start in the back. Don't even try to escape, it's not gonna work. I broke the lock and that door isn't going to be breaking from anything but power tools."

You give a small nod, eyes shifting to the chair.

"Well, good luck. You'll most definitely need it." 

You don't react to his voice, walking towards the chair as he begins his walk back. 

You turn on your phone, checking the time and finding that fifteen minutes have already passed. 

You can't call for help, if anyone came in they'd be killed by him. If he lived through an endoskeleton being shoved into him, he'll live through pretty much anything.

Still, you text your brother quickly.

You put your phone down, not caring about the wave of notifications that came from him spamming trying to get you to respond.

Pulling the camera pad out, you switch to where he normally starts right as he walks in. He sends a chilling smile up at the camera, eyes eerily glowing within the shadows. 

"Let's begin!" He calls. 

Immediately, your eyes widen as he reaches up, ripping the camera right off of the wall.

You feel your breathing pick up again as your heart pounds out of your chest. 

You aren't going to make it. 

When he dashes into the next room, you lead him back. He snarls. Briefly, before cam 10 gets ripped off of the wall, you see him glance at the vent.

Thankfully, he ignores it, running into the next room before you hit him with the sound again, rebooting audio and cameras tight as they go out. 

"Fuck that guy for making this shit so 'authentic' it breaks down every two seconds!" You mumble to yourself. 

William tears cam 8 down, running out once more. When you manage to catch him, he's in cam 4, and you lead him back with more audio. 

"You won't keep this up, you know! You'll run out of cameras!" He laughs, the sound echoing in the building.

You frown as cam 5 goes out. You lead him back further, hearing the thumping of the vents and quickly switching your cameras to them, sealing off a vent thankfully just in time. His grin drops.

You check the time. 

It's 2. 

5 of 10 cameras have already been torn down, and you are unable to play audio from them.

He gets out of the vent surprisingly quickly, continuing his race to you. 

When he reaches another vent, you block it off before he reaches the end. He rips off a camera that you haven't even used yet upon getting out. As soon as he sees cam 3, he rips it off as well.

You see the first sparks.

You lead him back again, he charges again. 

The cameras start it.

You lead him back again, he charges again.

Soon enough the back half of the building is in flames, swallowing everything and coming for you faster than William could.

You have nowhere to lead him to but right outside your door, and he disappears. 

Completely. 

Not in any cameras, not in any vents, and not in your vision.

The smoke began to pile into your room, so you rip off a sleeve of an old jacket that was left and tie it around your nose and mouth, getting out of your chair to stay lower to the ground.

Frantically, you switch through everything again, continuing to look for him, but turning your head to the sound of a grate both thrown aside. 

He went through the break room.

There, you meet eyes with William, who seems to be doing just fine in the intense heat that fills the attraction.

You quietly gasp, grabbing your throat as smoke fills it even with the makeshift cover. You wince, ripping the cloth off, finding William about three meters from your office. Frantically, you reach towards the vent close button, but when you press it, you hear the sound of failing machinery.

It was broken. 

He broke it the first night, and now you would die because of it.

Blindly grasping for your phone, you send another message to your brother.

'Get fire help' is all you could type out before William pins you to the ground, you barely managing to send it. 

Grabbing your phone out of your hand, William carelessly throws it into the wall, you wincing at the crunching noise. 

"You know, back when I was alive, I did much research on souls. Every soul contains this little thing known as 'Remnant.' Now, Remnant is the only reason I'm alive. There's no way to destroy it, except for fire."

Your eyes widen. 

"This building won't get hot enough to completely destroy our Remnant, so don't worry about that. Still, think of it like a metal. When it gets hot enough, it melts. It can meld into other people's Remnant."

You clench your teeth.

"Of course, there's no way I am going to destroy you. So, instead, I think I'll go with another option." He smirks. 

You can feel your vision get hazy.

"Within this fire I will preserve your warmth, and we will be welded together."

Your lids droop as you feel your breaths become raspy. 

You're going to die to the smoke, not to the fire that roared outside of your office, slowly inching its way in. 

You let out a few more wheezes, feeling lips against your own before your vision goes black.

-

He gets the news less than an hour after he calls the fire department.

His brother, the only immediate family he had left, had died in the fire. 

It doesn't take much thinking to figure out who did it. 

William. 

That man, that murderer, is going to pay.

However long it takes.

-----

i did not plan this out right this part is a lot shorter than it should be but ehh whatever

whoop whoop it is done… I mean I have a sequel planned but either way, this part of the story is done

See ya later :)

[midnightstar-90]

Hidden~ Eddie Diaz x Nash! Reader

Not So Great Timing (Prologue)

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of Captain Bobby Nash, but she doesn't know it. Y/N get's a job as Christopher's assistant teacher, where she meets Eddie.

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Y/N didn't know her father. When her father left her, her mother refused to tell her about about the man. Little did Y/N know, she was much like her father. When Y/N was 23 she joined the Navy, where she met the love of her life. Y/N and her love, Levi, were in the same rank, and they fought together. When she was 26, she had to leave the Navy because she fell pregnant. Levi died 6 months into her pregnancy, fighting for his country. Y/N was depressed, but she stayed strong for her baby boy.

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4 Years Later

Y/N and her 4-year-old son, Zach, moved to Los Angles. Y/N got a job at a school where she will be working with a kid with cerebral palsy, and Zach can continue his studies.

Y/N and Zach stood outside of Zach's class. "Now you be good, okay. I will come to get you when it is time for pickup," Y/N said to the 4-year-old. The 4-year-old responds with, "I know, mommy. I love you." Zach walks into class, and Y/N watches with a smile on her face.

Y/N goes to pick up the student she is working with. As she walks, she sees a good-looking man about her age. He looked ripped. Y/N just stared until the man talked. "Hi, you must be Y/N. I'm Eddie and... this is Christopher," the man says, grabbing ahold of the child's shoulders. The boy started laughing, which made Y/N smile. Y/N started speaking to Christopher, "Hi, buddy. I'm Miss. Nash, but you can call me Y/N." Christopher says"hi" before they start walking away. Little did Y/N know, Eddie was watching the woman and his son walk away, mesmerized.

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Eddie walks into the fire station to see Hen and Chimney restocking the ambulance.  He quickly looks for Buck, who is in the changing room. "Dude, one of Christopher's new teachers, has the same last name as Bobby," Eddie says to Buck after walking into the locker room. Buck stops what he's doing to speak to his new friend, "Anyone in the world could have the same last name as Bobby. Besides, Bobby's family died in a fire." Eddie continues the conversation with a smile, "I know, but she looks just like Captain Nash."

"Who looks just like me," Bobby asks the boys while walking into the locker room? "Uh, Christopher's new teacher, and I think Eddie likes her," Buck says with a smirk. Eddie quickly responds, "No. I do not like her. she just interests me. Her name is also Y/N Nash." The name instantly triggers Bobby, and he excuses himself. Evan and Eddie look at each other confused, before continuing their work.

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Bobby was so disoriented after hearing the name of his daughter. He hasn't told Athena nor his team about his secret daughter, that is what makes it a secret. Lots of questions ran through the fire captains head. Should he tell Athena? Should he search for his daughter? What would he say, if he did? Would she hate him?

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Y/N, Zach, and Christopher waited for Eddie to pick up his son. Y/N knew it was unprofessional, but she wanted to ask the fireman if he would like to go out for coffee. She would soon be disappointed by who would pick up the little boy.

A beautiful woman, with long, wavy, brown hair and blue eyes walked up to the three. Christopher, trying his best, ran to the woman yelling "Mommy". The woman walks her son back over to the other mother and son. "Hi, I'm Shannon Diaz. I am Christopher's mom. You probably met my husband..." Y/N only had to hear the words 'husband' to instantly give up hope of ever getting a date with the man. "Hello, I'm Miss. Nash, but you can call me Y/N," Y/N introduced herself before continuing, "Christopher was a blast to hang out with. Wasn't it Chris?" "Yeah!" Shannon smiles and looks at her son. Shannon then says, "Yeah, Chris is always so happy and positive. Well, we should get going. Have a nice day." Christopher and Zach say by to each other. Y/N waves to Christopher before heading to her car with her son.

After buckling the 4 year old into his seat, Y/N makes her way into her own seat. As she starts driving, she asks her child some questions, "So Z, did you fun?" The little boy responds with a "yeah" before grabbing at the tablet next to his seat. "Did you make any friends," Y/N asked, but ended up not getting a response. Hearing Mickey Mouse, Y/N knew her son wasn't listening.

Y/N goes back to thinking about Eddie. She couldn't stop thinking about him being Shannon's husband. 'He didn't mention he was married. Why should he? It's none of my business, and it's unprofessional.' Y/N thought. She continued asking herself questions before her vision went black. Y/N gained enough consciousness to call 9-1-1. "9-1-1, what's your emergency?" the dispatcher said. "My son... and... I... I think we were hi-," Y/N was able to get out before losing consciousness again.

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[oh-for-fic-sake]

What will daddy Henry do if his little is sad because someone took something valuable from her?

So i wanst sure what to base this on entirely, so I'm going to go with something I went through over the last few weeks. I had a little bit of anon hate, which I deleted but the words stuck with me making me second guess everything i was working on and the confidence i had in my writing was taken away. so this is like a shameful self indulgent fantasy that im going to read to myself when ever im down.

Warnings: Pretty Personal For Me, Angsty, Fluffy, Self Doubt, Happy Ending, DDLG, Long!!

Tagging: @viking-raider @isitmine @tinabean37 @loserrlauraa  @msblkfire84 @henrythickcavill @plainbrunettelbl @dummiesshort @cynic-spirit @pandaxnienke  @two-unbeatable-beaters @libbymouse @wolfieash @eldarwen333 @princesssterek @mom2000aggie @blackestpinkworld 

(not sure who to tag in headcannons? these are the ones on my everything taglist)

Henry watched quietly with a frown as you sat down in the living room, eyes cast down at the tablet in front of you shoulders slumped.

"poppet what's wrong love?"

"n-nothing da-addy" you said with a small stutter

Henry shifted on his feet looking at you critically before coming over to you.

"nothing? So your sitting here almost in tears over nothing" he stated sceptically rounding the sofa sitting next to you.

"I'm not cryin" you sniffled trying to bite your lower lip to stop it from wobbling.

"not yet, but close enough poppet, hand it over" he said holding out his hand waiting for the tablet.

You whined not wanting to hand it to him at first but after a mini battle of wills you placed the colourful tablet in his hand.

Your head was cast down and you rubbed your eyes trying to catch the tears before they were noticeable.

"okay then, so this is your new story?" he asked scrolling through the page not reading it all but scanning the words, it was well written like always.

At the beginning of the pandemic he suggested you started a blog, and you had. A writing blog all full of fanfictions of... Him.

He didn't mind he actually love you doing something constructive, it kept you happy and busy which helped him because there wasn't many free days even in lockdown. He was working out, reading scripts or rearranging covid tests and travel.

Plus knew these smut blogs existed, even lurked on a few.

"y-yeah" you mumbled leaning on him hugging his arm scanning the page as he scrolled, you knew he wasn't reading everything maybe every few lines

"sooo what's the problem?" he said not finding an issue with the writing.

"i... I cant post it" you muttered looking down avoiding his gaze

"why?" he asked frowning not liking the defeated tone you had.

"j-just because..."

"ah I see, you have lost your confidence" he said quickly figuring out the problem, the downside to writing was everything was personal preference so tiny comments could knock your confidence.

In a way it was like his work, you put your heart and soul into it and then people don't like it? It was always a bummer. But he was used to it, you were not.

You nodded to him it was true you'd lost your confidence, you hadn't wrote for a while.

You couldn't seem to find the words to fit together anymore.

You felt silly, they were just a few mean comments, words from a nasty troll who didn't have anything better to do but it hurt, you poured your heart into every chapter and then for people to rip it to shreds? It stung.

"y-yes I... They didn't like it" you hummed fiddling with your fingers, drawing deep breaths trying not to cry

"and so what?" he said shrugging making you snap your gaze to him.

"wha?"

"it doesn't matter love, so a few people didn't like it, lots of people do, I love your stories"

"you have to your my daddy"

Henry huffed and shook his head at you ruffling your hair pressing a kiss to your head amused that you thought that's the only reason he liked your writing.

"don't stop writing just because of a few mean people nugget, it takes a lot of skill to write and a lot of bravery to share it. Your a brave talented little baby and I'm very proud of you"

He said cooing as that seemed to be the final push sending you over the edge making you burst out into tears.

He hugged you moving the tablet out of the way before pulling you to his lap, unbuttoning his shirt half way and squished you into his bare chest knowing you needed to feel him, not a shirt.

"shh its okay babygirl, your stories are wonderful, and you have fun writing them don't you baby?"

You nodded crying harder trying to get the words out but you just couldn't instead whining incoherently into him.

"and you enjoy making the little banners? And collect all your photos and gifs?"

"y-yeah but they di-dn't like it last time!"

"they don't have to like everything you do sweety"

"but I don't wana upset them!"

"did you do the warnings?" he asked knowing all about the do's and don'ts of posting your erotica.

You nodded whining you always did warnings on stuff to be safe.

"and make the little cut thingy you were telling me about?" again you nodded at him

"so your telling me they read the warnings, clicked to see it and then were mean?" you sniffled biting your lip trying to calm down but nodded to him humming quietly.

"well then it sounds to me like they were going out of their way, looking for someone to pick on" he said slowly rocking you slightly.

You fell quiet resting your head on his chest as he rubbed your back and patted your bottom soothing you.

"but what if they wasn't? What if my stories are bad- and encourage bad stuff!" you cried tucking yourself into him tighter.

"no-no you repeat after me, fiction is fiction" he said pulling you back wiping your tears waiting for you to say it out loud.

"fic-tion is f-fiction" you repeated

"I did everything I could to warn people"

"I-I did everyth-ing I could to w-warn people" he smiled at you as you drew a huge breath calming yourself down.

"and they are jealous because I'm an adorable, smart, funny kind and caring babygirl who has the cutest little peach butt in the world~" he said smirking at you from above holding you tightly to him pressing a kiss to your head.

"and they- daddy! Noo! I can't say that~" you gasped flushing as you realised what he had said

"oh yes you can because its the truth now come here let daddy bite that peach~" he growled playfully snapping his jaws at you.

"ah-no!" you screeched giggleing as he began tickling you all over wrestling you playfully trying to lean over and bite your but through your shorts.

He landed two solid bite's on your bottom before pulling back. Even though he had cheered you up he could see you were still doubting yourself.

Henry cast a glance to the tablet and smirked forming a plan that might just get you back on track. He was not going to let anyone steal your sparkle.

"come on you you've spent enough time writing go play in the garden with Kal"

Once you left henry got to work swiping up the tablet and going on your one drive seeing the meticulously organized notebooks, recognising a few by name.

A few weeks later Henry came in to the living room with a medium size box and plopped it on the sofa next to you.

"here we go nugget!" he said placing the gift next to you, they couldn't have come quickly enough, he had noticed you hadn't been writing at all, which upset him because he knew how much you loved it.

"what's that daddy?" you asked peering over the box not expecting any gifts.

"why don't you open it and find out?" he said sitting the other side of the box handing you a pair of scissors to slice the tape.

You moved slowly cutting it open and pulled the box open then froze.

"d-daddy? What thats my..." you trailed off pulling out the hard back books your banner on the front cover.

"your stories? Yes poppet, I realised that you were putting so much work into these things but could loose them, they are soo good that daddy wanted to read them over and over and now we can!" he said pleased with himself as you sat there shocked looking at the small collection of a5 books.

"but their- i dont..." you said happy but completely shocked, flicking through the pages, there were even a few comments in the margins from henry pointing out the pits he liked making your heart swell with pride.

Henry moved to stand behind you pressing a kiss to your hair.

"They are brilliant! So good I'm so proud of every thing you have achieved and I want them on our book shelf, in the living room" he said making you tear up.

"Really? You... You think their that good?" you whined eyes blurring with tears as you hugged the first book to your chest.

"absolutely poppet now go on, you do the honours~" he said pressing your shoulder urging you to go to the cube bookshelf.

You tiptoed over to it and slowly pulled out each little custom book with your banner on the front.

You sat down placing each one delicately on the shelf the five books each lining up with one another half filling the empty cube shelf.

"oh no baby look? The shelf isn't full is it? You know what that means" he said standing looking

"I-I've gotta write?" you asked sniffling weeping softly but this time because you were happy.

"exactly! You need to fill the whole shelf, so you keep up the good work and tell daddy when you finish your next story and we can keep adding to it!" he said cheerfully walking over handing you the tablet.

You smiled to yourself and looked to the books, your books- actual real life books on a shelf!

You grinned throwing yourself at him latching onto him feeling your confidence come back just from seeing how much you had done.

Suddenly the hate didn't matter, your daddy like them enough to make them into real life books! And even annotated them himself?

And if your writing was good enough for your daddy then it was good enough for you.

"daddy, can I have my screen time now, I want to write!!" you said jumping up and down on the spot excited to start your next chapter.

Henry grinned nodding deciding you can have as much screen time today as you wanted as long as it meant you wasn't giving up your new hobby.

[vivifrage]

(This one is a Siriks Lives He Just Got Captured AU because @shadowtriad endeared me to him and now this catboy lives rent-free in my brain. I hope I got him right.)

4: Taken Hostage

The days stretched on, indiscriminate, in the cell.

They were interrupted sometimes, but he couldn’t say when in the day it was, or whether it was in the same day, another day after, a week after, what. The Exo had tried to bring a clock, show him the time once or twice at least, but the clock had been whisked away shortly after she left, and Earth timekeeping without the sun to double-check was a headache on top of his current, overarching, already massive headache.

How Eramis had withstood decades of this, he didn’t know. Whether she had recognized all the years passing, how much she missed, until she stepped outside into a changed world, he didn’t want to think about.

In comparison, he’d barely been in here (he knew that, at least), and he was already considering sneaking another one of the snacks the Exo had left him. The first had been good, but they’d been brought as some sort of… pity offering by the being who by all rights should have killed him, instead humiliating and dishonoring him like this. But his stomach was starting to ache, and he didn’t know when food would come next.

Maybe he would simply bite the next person to enter the cell.

The Exo was a relatively frequent visitor, so calm even when he growled and bared his teeth. (She’d laughed at that, once. Just a short burble of a noise. It was the first time he bit her, teeth scraping against her armored forearm. He hadn’t been able to open his left front eye for a while after she punched him for it.) She was likely, but biting her wasn’t even worth the revenge for capturing him.

Other Lightbearers stopped by sometimes. Usually they just hovered around the edges while someone else - staff, interrogators, what have you - worked, and put on their most threatening face. If he didn’t know what they were, he would have laughed at the little dolls trying to look scary. As it was, he kept his face hidden behind an arm when he snarled back.

Then, perhaps worst of all, was the House of Light. Usually one of their Splicers, gauntlet snap-snap-snapping over their arms, asking question after question. Or, at times, a Captain, much more blunt and to the point. Always accompanied by their Scribe. She rarely spoke, asking whoever she was with to clarify something or another, and listening to just that had made it plenty clear that she was young, hardly finished growing. But she scribbled note after note, hadn’t backed down at all after the first time he lunged for her, and when he’d looked her in the eyes, something uncomfortable settled in his stomach. He couldn’t place it, but it left him on edge until the Exo visited again.

...That would work. Bring the House’s meager nobility down a bit. Busy the Sacred Splicer, so-called Kell of Light, with worrying over his baby rather than getting in anyone’s way.

Said Kell hadn’t even bothered visiting his prisoner in person. Maybe he did have a more sadistic side, and was waiting for him to be thoroughly infuriated and ashamed with himself before coming in to dock him.

He didn’t know how much longer he sat there, seated on a bed sized for Humans, the couple of scruffy blankets he had piled in a poor excuse for a nest at his feet. He toyed with one of the snacks, listening to the wrapper crinkle, and ignored the hunger building in his gut.

But eventually, the door clicked and his head snapped up, fixated on it. He shoved the snack back into its hiding spot, crossing his hands over his lap. Watching, waiting, to see who came in the door this time.

It opened a crack, enough for him to hear Eliksni voices. So the House of Light again. Bringing question after question, no doubt, or maybe some new trick to dig into his memories and see what he knew. He growled, low in his throat.

He was definitely biting the Scribe. At this point, just for the grim glee of seeing her and whoever she came with squeal.

It opened more, just enough to admit, yep, the Scribe, as bundled up as she always was, like she’d spent so much time among Humans and their ilk that she was trying to hide what she was. Poorly, considering her secondary arms and the glow of her eyes, but still.

“It’s fine. It’s just to talk-” She turned to him and dipped her head. “Hello, Siriks- We’ll see how things go.”

A much deeper voice rumbled behind her, and a new hand replaced hers on the door, pushing it wide open. In the doorway stood a taller Eliksni wearing a purple mask, glowing lines tracing around his form. He kept two hands on the Scribe’s shoulders, kneading away. “If you need me for anything, I am right here.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll see you.” The Scribe gently pried his hands off her, turning so her back was to him, and stepped into the room. Nervous confidence filled her short form, keeping her head high and chest puffed but her limbs close to her chest, clutching her tablet like a weapon.

With a hand wielding a Splicer’s gauntlet, the other Eliksni tapped under his eyes, shooting Siriks a sharp glare.

The door closed, leaving him alone with the Scribe and a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Shit. Shit. Fuck him.

That was her father, wasn’t it? Standing right outside the door, ready to rush in if anything went awry.

And he knew, he had been told, the Scribe of House Light’s father was its Kell.

Oh, he was fucked every which way.

If he did so much as make her shout a little too loud, sound a little too angry or afraid, he was dead. No chance to appeal, no chance to argue that he still knew things they didn’t (not that he would give them up, but it would buy him time to try and escape), no chance to even apologize for upsetting her. The Kell didn’t have to answer to any authority save perhaps the Vanguard, and he could lie to them. Whatever he wanted to justify killing him on the spot.

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself.” The Scribe startled him, suddenly just out of arm’s reach. Close enough to be caught if he lunged, but her father was right there. She didn’t even seem to care, instead picking around at her thick, woolly cowl. “I am Eido. I’m sure you gathered that I am the Scribe of the House of Light.”

Perhaps it was for the best she already knew his name. It was like someone had tied a knot in his throat, and the only thing that could escape would be a growl.

She sighed; she wasn't even looking at him any more, too busy fiddling with the tie keeping her cowl and hood in shape. "I hope you don't mind if I take this off. It's warm, but if I didn't know better I'd swear someone wove prickles into it."

She met his eye, and said, deadpan, "To be honest, if you do have an opinion on it, that's your problem, not mine."

He managed to chuff. Oh, the Scribe thought she had some backbone to her, didn't she? Speaking like that to a Devils Baron. No wonder. She looked like she might be getting a Captain's Ether rations, when by all rights, at her age she would just be getting promoted to a Vandal. Provided she had the skill and tenacity to back up that overinflated ego.

"Anyways," she said, finally undoing the tie. The cowl slackened, the hood slipping back enough to reveal a lock of coarse, dark brown hair. She continued to unwind the length of fabric, folding it over her arm as she worked. "I do not plan to interrogate you as the others did. I'm here in my duty as House Scribe, not a notetaker. Which means understanding all involved points of view. Yours included."

The fabric fell away, and she stared back at him, barefaced. "If you will work with me, that is."

He couldn't answer. He couldn't breathe.

There was no mistaking it. The eyes alone were easy enough to dismiss; a greyish blue was nothing spectacular. But the shape of her brow, her nose, jawline, mandibles, it all flowed together into a face he swore he saw in old pictures. The color of her skin and shell were almost an exact match, too. And her hair, wrangled into a thick braid - he could almost feel the coarse, ridiculously voluminous texture under his hands, hear ghosts of conversations marked with banter and dramatic stories. Not to mention her stature, the sound of her voice - now that he saw, it all added up.

He had seen one of her siblings, when he'd been able to search the wreckage. Trapped under dented metal, lower body crushed.

Late one night, decades later, Eramis had whispered to him about the other two, the ones they had never found and who must have died long ago. Including a little girl who looked just like her, and had a patch of thick, dark hair, trying to be fluffy even while egg-damp.

And she was standing right there, alive and well. Still the spitting image of her mother.

He had grieved for her and her siblings. He knew all too well the ways of war, he knew they were at risk. But that didn't change how his heart had sung seeing the eggs in their nest on the Sepiks-Fel. It didn't change how he had cradled them while he sat in the dark, shining a light through their shells to illuminate the dark, growing forms within. It didn't change how he had cheered them on when they wriggled and kicked while he watched, and traced a knuckle along the eggshell to see when they started responding. One had reached out once, when he did that. Had it been her? Was she the one who had pawed at the inside of her shell with a scrawny, underdeveloped hand, her egg the only thing between her and his palm cupped around where she patted?

Maybe it was. It was a one in three chance, after all, that it was her. Two in three that it had been one of her siblings, killed in the crash.

And she stared at him, unknowing. Stepped closer, close enough he could catch her scent and erase any lingering doubts in his mind.

It was her.

He was supposed to be her father.

He choked back a raging storm of conflicting feelings. Deep, white-hot rage that she had been taken from him, that he had gone all these years with her, her siblings, and her mother ripped away all at once. She should have grown up cradled in his arms, raised to be a proud Devil. He should have sung her to sleep, taught her everything he knew, taken her onto his crew.

But at the same time, she was alive and well. Cared for, educated, given such a notable rank. If she had ever suffered for anything, he didn't see any sign of it. And, all right, he doubted Misraaks would have taught her any sort of unpleasant biting tricks.

She was still the Scribe of House Light. She had still stood there, watched, and taken her notes through interrogation after interrogation.

But now she stood within arms reach, painfully familiar, the father who raised her waiting just outside while the father-who-could-have-been, the father-who-should-have-been, sat before her, imprisoned.

He swallowed down the keen rising in his throat. He couldn't even tell her.

[page-doctor-bekker]

Human Error (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) this really doesn’t actually have anything to do with sarah being trans, it just takes place in the same universe. this is literally just an event that happened in this au written out so i can write about effects surrounding it without people being confused lol.

-

-

“Reese, we’re slammed, any chance you can take treatment four?” Maggie pointed at Sarah Reese, and then at the fourth treatment room. Sarah looked up from the computer, before grabbing her tablet and heading to the treatment room.

“Hi, Mr. Nearling? I’m Dr. Reese, what seems to be the issue today?” Sarah pushed for hand sanitizer, rubbing her already-dry hands together until the gel had absorbed.

“Trouble breathing…” The man took a few labored breaths, “Cold sweat… I’m shaking, I can’t breathe-”

“Okay, I see, when did this start? Does your chest hurt at all?”

“I… I had a big meeting today and it just happened suddenly. I guess it hurts a little bit.”

“Can I take a listen to your heart?” Sarah asked, already taking her stethoscope off of her neck. The man nodded, and she pressed the drum to his chest. His heart was racing.

He started talking fast, “Are you going to be able to give me a doctor’s note? I’m going to lose my job…” He started breathing faster.

“Has this ever happened before?” Sarah asked, lifting the stethoscope from the man’s chest, “Any history of anxiety or panic disorders?”

“Never like this,” He choked up and coughed a bit, “But, I had social anxiety as a kid.”

“Do you have any family history of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, or high blood pressure? Do you smoke, drink?”

“No, none of that,” The man waved his hands, “I’m a healthy guy. A vegetarian, everything- everything is fine! I’m perfect, I can’t-”

“Mr. Nearling-” He was hyperventilating, and Sarah grabbed one of his hands, “Mr. Nearling, I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” Dr. Reese let go of his hand, and hung her stethoscope back around her neck, and tapped on her iPad, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down, then we can talk about coping strategies and I will refer you to outpatient psychiatry to continue care. April, push 1.5 milligrams of Ativan.”

April pushed the medication through the patient’s IV line, and Dr. Reese pulled up a round, spinning stool to the bed and sat down. April nodded at the doctor, and left the room, pulling the curtain shut.

Mr. Nearling calmed down noticeably, which Dr. Reese took as a success - Panic attack subsided. Dr. Reese smiled, “It’s normal to have some residual physical symptoms, mild tightness, shortness of breath, but as the medication works you’ll calm down more and more. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Mr. Nearling shrugged, “Maybe? I’ve never gone to the hospital for it.”

“After a severe panic attack you may have more panic attacks in the coming days or weeks, so I’m going to call in a mild benzodiazepine in case you need a bit of help,” Dr. Reese typed that into the tablet, “When you feel the anxiety and panic start up, you definitely want to try coping mechanisms before you take medication for it. The medication is just for if those coping mechanisms don’t work, which sometimes happens and is to be expected every once in a while.”

Mr. Nearling nodded, taking a deep breath. It was shaky going out, but residual anxiety can do that.

“So, a good first step, whenever you’re having a panic attack, is to recognize that you’re having a panic attack. If it doesn’t work to say it in your head, say it out loud,” Dr. Reese tapped the tablet against her leg with each coming syllable for emphasis, “I am having a panic attack.”

“I am having a panic attack.”

And just like that, it was no longer a panic attack. Mr. Nearling went limp, and the monitors started going crazy. Dr. Reese held two fingers to the man’s neck, and yelled out, “I need a crash cart!”

Everything moved fast after that. Sarah was pushed out of the way by two ED doctors, who started barking out orders.

“He’s in cardiac arrest, page CT. Reese, get on his chest-”

Sarah could feel blood pounding in her ears, and she clasped one hand over the other and started humming. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive. Stayin’ alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… No matter how much CPR she performed, she still needed the song to keep her on beat.

“-Milligram of Epi.”

Ah, ha, ha, ha…

“Hold compressions,” Dr. Choi barked, holding two fingers to the man’s neck, “Clear!”

The man’s chest lurched as he was shocked, and Sarah’s heart jumped into her throat. Dr. Choi held his fingers back to the man’s neck, “Another milligram of Epi. Charge to 200.”

Sarah resumed compressions. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’...

“Clear!”

Sarah held her hands up, shaking. This never got easier.

“Asystole,” April sighed out, preparing another milligram of Epi. She knew exactly what Dr. Choi was going to ask for next.

“Another milligram of Epi.”

Sarah reached to resume compressions, but Dr. Choi swatted her hands out of the way and did CPR himself. Dr. Choi did it slightly faster than Sarah did. He knew the man was dead.

Sarah squeezed her clammy hands together, shaking like a leaf.

Dr. Bekker rushed in almost immediately after Dr. Choi stopped compressions, and was floored when Choi called time of death.

“Alright, why wasn’t this patient taken to the cath lab as soon as his heart attack was diagnosed?” Ava’s tone was stone cold.

Everyone looked at Sarah.

“He uh… He presented with…” She cleared her throat, “With shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, shakiness, and extreme anxiety as well as a positive history for social anxiety. He did not-” She cracked her knuckles, “Um… He also displayed signs of work-related stress and no- Uh, no risk factors for heart attack. I determined he was having a panic attack and ordered 1.5 milligrams of Ativan and started talking about coping strategies with him.”

“Whenever a patient shows up with chest pains they should receive a FULL cardiac workup REGARDLESS of history and risk factors,” Dr. Bekker took a step towards Sarah, and grew louder, “If YOU were in the emergency room with CHEST PAIN, would you be anxious?!”

“I- uh-”

“You did NOTHING you should have. ANXIETY is NOT a contraindication for a heart attack, and now this man is dead. Leaving him to die in the waiting room would be more effective,” She spat out, her tone venomous, “Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was out of the room before she even knew she was moving. Her feet dragged her away and her heart was practically leaping out of her chest. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she started chewing on her tongue to avoid letting them go. She clenched her fists as Dr. Charles called her name.

“Dr. Reese! I was paged to the ED, something about you?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“Sarah,” He whispered, “Go sit in my office when you’re done. I’m going to finish rounds. We’ll talk when I’m done,” He started to walk away, before turning around, “You’re not in trouble, Sarah, I just want to understand what happened.”

Sarah pushed open the swinging door to the women’s bathroom, bolted into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut. She sat down and started sobbing.

I’m in love with her.

She choked on her own snot, and ripped off a piece of toilet paper to blow her nose.

I’m in love with her, and she hates me.

She let out a wail.

i’m in love with her, she hates me, and I failed her.

The bathroom door opened.

“Sarah?”

Sarah held her breath, pulled her knees up to her chest to avoid making any noise.

“I don’t think she’s in here,” Sarah heard April, a gentle voice amongst the madness.

Sarah heard a pager beep.

“Ugh, I have a heart transplant. Whatever, send a note to Dr. Charles and let him know I was looking for her.”

She wants to yell at me some more. She wants to hurt me. She somehow knows about me and I’m going to get fired. I’m going to get fired and be all alone. She knows about me and she’s going to hurt me and I’m going to get fired.

They left, and Sarah let out her breath and let her feet fall to the floor. She blew her nose again, and took a deep, shaking breath. She stood up, and leaned her forehead against the stall door. She took her hair down from it’s low ponytail, and shook it out. She grabbed a piece of her hair and started absentmindedly braiding it - an old anxious habit.

A few minutes and three braids later, she opened the stall door and stared into the mirror in front of her. She wiped away her tears, approached the sink, and splashed water on her face, soaking one of her messy braids in the process. She dried with a thin paper towel, took another shaky, deep breath. She grabbed a helping of hand sanitizer on her way out of the bathroom. Force of habit. Even leaving her bedroom at home she sometimes tries to push the sanitizer button, even though it isn’t there.

Sarah practically ran to Dr. Charles’s office, hurriedly taking her braids out and running her hands through her tangled hair.

She unlocked Dr. Charles’s office door with her key, and closed the door behind her. She did not turn the lights on. Instead, she made a beeline for the couch. There was a throw blanket stored under one of the cushions, and she pulled it over her after grabbing it. She covered her face with a pillow, and screamed into it.

“Sarah?”

She forcefully uncovered her face, before relaxing once she saw it was just Daniel.

“Sarah,” He inquired, sitting down at his desk, “What happened today?”

Sarah sniffled, “I misdiagnosed a heart attack as a panic attack,” She choked out, “Mid-30s male presenting with shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, anxiety, healthy weight, vegetarian, panicking with a history of social anxiety, currently experiencing work-related stress, no family history of heart disease, nothing.”

Dr. Charles sighed, “Common mistake. Hardly something to have a-”

“He died, Dr. Charles,” She cried, “He’s dead.”

Dr. Charles’s face hardened, “I see,” He faltered.

“And- And Ava, God, Ava…” She pressed her hand to her forehead, “She yelled at me in the middle of the ED, and she said I was incompetent and-” She choked out a sob, “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Sarah,” Dr. Charles’s tone softened, “She’s just… She’s just angry. She won’t be angry forever.”

“I just really messed up today,” Sarah swiped her tears away with trembling hands.

“You did,” Dr. Charles agreed, “You did mess up today, but-”

“I’m going to get sued-”

“Sarah.”

“I’m going to lose my residency and I don’t have a fallback plan, I’m in so much debt and so much trouble-”

“Sarah, you’re not going to lose your residency,” Dr. Charles yelled, and Sarah fell silent. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but you’re not going to lose your residency. Every single doctor has a misdiagnosis in their career, it’s just part of the job.”

“But he died. And it’s my fault.”

“Sarah, you are going to lose patients. And sometimes it’s going to be your fault,” He reasoned, “You’re a good doctor, Sarah, you’re a good doctor who made a mistake. You want to know what happened during my residency? I diagnosed a teenage girl experiencing vomiting and lack of appetite with bulimia,” He raised his eyebrows at Sarah, “She died of malnutrition. Autopsy showed she had ulcers all along her digestive tract,” He shrugged, “She was in too much pain to eat! But all I saw was a sickly thin teenage girl that was vomiting and couldn’t eat.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“The point is, things happen. Death happens. Sometimes, conditions disguise as one another. Medicine is hardly ever an exact science,” Dr. Charles pointed out, “Human error is expected, you’re not going to get fired, and you’re probably not going to get sued. Mr. Nearling presented with no typical risk factors of a heart attack, and all the typical risk factors and symptoms of a panic attack. Did you purposefully ignore Mr. Nearling’s heart attack?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Boom,” Dr. Charles threw his hands up in front of him, “You had no malicious intent. You made a mistake, a common mistake, on a patient that didn’t present typically, and it had consequences.”

Sarah nodded.

Dr. Charles sighed, and looked at Sarah with a look of sympathy, “And now it will never happen again, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re going to take complaints with these symptoms more seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re not a bad doctor, Sarah, you’re just a human,” He said, “In med school they always teach you what someone who has a heart attack looks like, just like they taught me what someone who has an eating disorder looks like. You just have to learn to get past that phenotype and look deeper.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“Look... This is hard. I get it,” Dr. Charles sighed, “Just... go home, Sarah. Take a breather.”

“What?”

“Go home. Come back in a few days. Take a break.”

“Yes sir,” She said, quietly, before standing up to leave.

-

-

(A/N) thanks for reading :) i’m going to build on this at some point and write a follow-up to this one shot. hope you enjoyed! this is a foundation for the parts i want to write, so it doesn’t have too much about sarah’s actual transition. i am so sorry for making ava be mean :(( EDIT: If you liked this, check this out bc I am continuing it!

[sweethugsandhoney]

hanahaki disease pt 3

summary: hanahaki disease- a disease where the victim of unrequited or one sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs. which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left. it ends when the beloved returns their feelings or when the victim dies.

a/n: i decided i’m going to be writing a fourth partt because i write too much lmaooo. lmk your thoughts and thank you so much for the support and comments i’ve been getting!

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

“spencer stop!”, my laughter filled the room as spencer’s fingers kept tickling my sides. i mentally cringed at my laugh, trying to close my mouth but failing. spencer’s actions stopped as he hovered over me, “are you going to say yes now?”. i shook my head no with tears in my eyes, spencer’s hands returned to my side. “okay stop stop stop! i’ll watch it!”, i said quickly.

“why are you crying?”, spencer asked concerned, his beautiful eyes staring into mine. i bursted out laughing as i clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my laugh. “i’m not crying, my eyes are just watery from you tickling me”, i managed out. “hey, don’t hide your smile from me”, he said grinning as he pulled my hand down from my face. his words made my heart burst. i groaned as i sat up from my position on the couch, my sides hurting from the torture they received.

spencer got the remote and put on ‘doctor who’. he put his arm around me as i cuddled into his side. this is wrong, i thought. he just thinks of me as a friend but then he acts like this around me. i felt spencer’s fingers tracing random shapes on my side. my chest tightened and my breath quickened. i felt like i could pass out, i never wanted this moment to end, i felt pure bliss in his arms.

unfortunately it did, that happened three months ago. i realized that night that i was in love with him, it wasn’t just feelings anymore. that was also the night the plant started growing inside of me. i spent the night at his house, baking cookies and watching doctor who together.

i had decided who i should put on my life support form. the noise of my footsteps climbing up the stairs filled the silent hallway. i cleared my throat, still feeling uncomfortable although i already coughed some petals out. i stopped in front of his door, softly knocking on spencer’s door. this plant is growing for him, he should be the one to decide. spencer opened the door, opening it wider once he saw it was me.

“y/n! you came”, his excited voice said, i stepped into his apartment with a smile on my face. his presence alone made my mood so much better. “yeah, we haven’t hung out in a while”, i said taking off my sweater and putting it on the couch. “actually i have something to talk to you about”, might as well get this over with.

“what is it”, spencer replied, coming to take a seat next to me. i stayed silent for a second as i chewed on my lip. i saw spencer’s eyes glance down at my hands, my eyes following his. i was subconsciously picking at the skin around my nails, something he said i did when i was nervous. i quickly stopped doing it and cleared my throat.

“it’s about the coughing. you said that i could tell you when i was ready, and i’m ready”, i started. i exhaled a long sigh as my vision blurred with tears. “i’m dying spencer, i have hanahaki disease”, i desperately blinked the tears away. it doesn’t matter how many times i cried, the tears just kept coming. his face remained expressionless as he just stared at me.

“i know”, he finally said. “after i saw you cough up a flower, i went home and researched everything i could about coughing up flowers. i was waiting for you to tell me”, i nodded my head as a tear slid down my cheek. spencer scooted closer to me and wiped the tear off my face with his thumb. “who do you love?”

my breath caught in my throat at his last question. i glanced down at my hands, should i tell him? i looked back up to meet his eyes, my eyes glanced at a framed picture he had of maeve on his book shelf. “that’s not important”, i finally said, my eyes returning to his. “the reason i came here is because there’s a surgery i can get, but it’s risky. there’s isn’t enough research done for the surgery to be a guaranteed success”, i said pulling out the manila folder from the bag i brought with me.

i placed the folder on his lap. his fingers reached for it, opening it to the life support form dr. lee had given me. spencer reached for the x-ray scans behind the first paper, eyes taking in the image. “red carnations are my favorite”, he said softly. yeah i know, that’s why they’re growing inside of me. “spencer, i want you to be the person to decide my fate”, i said reaching for a pen from my bag and giving it to him.

“i don’t think i can do this”, he said after a few moments, his eyes looking up to meet mine. i opened my mouth to say something but was interrupted when both of our phones ringed. i furrowed my eyebrows as i reached in my back pocket for mine. ‘new case. get here asap!’, penelope’s text message read. “look you don’t have to sign it right now, just consider it”, i said with a pleading look in my eyes, “please”.

spencer nodded his head and closed the folder. we both got into our separate cars and arrived at FBI headquarters. “alright, my lovelies”, said penelope as she entered the briefing room. the whole team had arrived and was sitting around the round table. “six prostitutes have been found dead in alleyways right here in virginia. they all have an extreme amount of stab wounds and their hair has been cut off”, garcia said cringing.

“six? why are we barely being told now?”, i said, looking down at the crime scene photos on my tablet. “the police don’t really care for prostitutes that die. they kind of just slip it under the rug”, morgan said in a disappointing tone. “why is he taking their hair though?”, emily added in.

“it could be for trophies, relive his crimes. we’ll be taking the cars over there”, hotch said in his usual serious tone. we all hopped onto two different cars, three of us in each. my eyes followed the scenery we passed on our drive. ah shit, i thought as i felt the familiar itchy sensation in my throat. i started lightly coughing, “ hotch can you please stop the car”, i heard emily say . i felt the car being pulled over and i hurriedly opened the car door.

i violently coughed onto the floor, getting down on my knees. i felt the lump come up my throat, the damned flower finally making its way out of my mouth. i heaved as i felt more coming out of my mouth, hurting and stinging my throat. i breathed heavily as i pulled back my hair. i stood up on shaky legs, using the car door for support. my thoughts ran a million miles a second as i saw that i coughed up more than the other times.

the last thing i fucking need is for this thing to get worse. i wiped the blood off my chin with my sleeve, climbing back into the car and shutting the door. “everything alright, y/l/n?”, i heard hotch’s voice say, looking at me through the rear view mirror. i nodded my head as i composed myself, emily looked back at me concerned. she’d never actually seen it happen, just heard me talk about it. we arrived at the springfield police department, where they provided a board room for us.

we ran through different theories but nothing seemed to make sense. there were two different types of stab wounds. “there’s two unsubs. one is the dominant personality which goes with the violent stab wounds”, i said looking at the crime scene photos on the board. “and one is the submissive, indicating the hesitant stab wounds”, spencer followed, coming to the realization i made. after talking to witnesses and coming up with theories, we figured out the unsubs were 36 year-old connor andrews and 17 year-old jackson gregory.

we were on our way to an abandoned warehouse, which was slap in the middle of the geo profile reid created. i felt the familiar tightness in my throat as i mentally cursed myself. you just had to go falling in love with your coworker, i internally scolded myself. we arrived to the warehouse, quickly getting out and forcing our way into the building. “put the weapon down!”, morgan’s voice boomed as we found the older unsub pointing a gun to the younger one’s head.

i suppressed my coughs and ignored the tightness i felt. “no! he betrayed me!”, the unsub connor andrews said as he held the 17 year-old against him, shielding himself with him. i felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. it worsened whenever i took a breath in. my hand reached to touch my chest, trying to keep my composure. i somehow still managed to keep my coughs in, even though i felt like my throat was being ripped open. the world around me started spinning as i felt myself fall.

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