#the cause of death was sids | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imtryingbuck · 8 months ago

Text

Unchained Melody

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: yns a ghost and Bucky falls in love

Word count: 5,257

Warnings: in this the blip never happened why? because I said so. swearing. ghost reader. death by fire. tiny mention of cheating, not reader or bucky. tiny mention of drugs, not reader or bucky. tiny mention of domestic abuse and child abuse. Me just making shit up, enjoy.

A/N: posting this in celebration of hitting 1k followers, I love you all🤍

Masterlist

You first saw him three years ago, shiny silver arm with a red star on the bicep shoulder length wavy hair - that you knew just had to be soft - you had watched as the team greeted him with smiles and his response? To look at them like they had just kicked his puppy. Walking at the side of Steve as you both showed him to his room, it was basic and dull not like the others your favourite belonging to Wanda, you was telling him all the things he could do with it - picking out a colour theme, that if he moved the desk over to the sid-

“I like it”

You looked at him like he had three heads on his shoulders. The room was bare and empty how could he have liked it?

As the days turned to weeks you stayed close to him, at first you told yourself it was just to help him settle in but the more times you spent with the man you grew a teeny tiny connection with him, even if he did ignore you all the time.

“So Bucky I was thinking maybe we could go to the gym and then get someth-hey where are you going? Rude.”

In a very non creepy way you liked to watch him sleep, his frown lines faded, the little twitches in his nose always made you smile, his soft snores filling your senses. Again it was done in a very non creepy way! But watching Bucky sleep brought you peace knowing he was oka-

“Bucky Bucky it’s just a nightmare it’s okay, shit, Steve! Goddamn Bucky please wake up! Steve Sam anyone!” You screamed in absolute panic the first time he had a nightmare.

“It’s okay Buck it’s just a bad dream”

“Yeah no shit Steve I’ve been shouting you for the last five minutes-hey don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to yo-you know Bucky I absolutely hate it when people shut doors on me when I’m talki-oh you’re asleep, oh okay night night I guess”

Over time the nightmares faded, he became more comfortable around everyone. Happier even.

The first time you saw him naked you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You had walked into his bedroom - he was fresh out of the shower his hair dropping little droplets onto his broad soft back, he took his towel away from his hips in one swift motion causing your brain to fry up.

“I’m huh sor-Jesus Bucky you’re hu-shit I shouldn’t be seeing this, sor-I’m gonna go”

Leaving once again but not before taking one more cheeky look.

That went on for six months until one day you went to his room to check up on him noticing he wasn’t there you went to the gym, not there. Kitchen, not there. Briefing room, not there. You saw Tony walking past so you asked him but he didn’t tell you. You asked Sam, no reply. You asked Nat but she just carried on texting on her phone. So you went to find Steve but just like with Bucky you was coming up empty.

“He’s probably ventured outside finally” you told yourself as you waited for him in his room.

And you kept on waiting, and waiting and waiting.

It had been two and a half years since you last saw him. Nobody around you even talked about him despite you always asking them where he had gone or if he was okay.

It was like he was never there in the first place.

Steve ran past you as you was taking your daily stroll through the corridors, normally you would have followed him but since you had fell out with him you continued you stroll.

You did your first lap and were walking back towards the kitchen when you heard a familiar voice.

“-I’m okay, they got rid of my trigger words”

“I’m glad pal, you seem a lot happier. How was Wakanda?”

“It was good had my own little hut and had some goats” he chuckles, Steve joining in.

You did have to agree with Steve, Bucky looked happier. Healthier.

“Bucky” you whispered.

Bucky’s eyes flicked away from Steve to over to where you were standing.

The two of you stare at each other, you not daring to move and him just looking at you that was until Steve broke the spell between you two.

“Buck? You alright?”

“I-um yeah” his eyes go to Steve and then back to the woman who was standing there. His eyebrows burrow in confusion as she wasn’t there anymore. “Hey Steve is there another person now a part of the team?”

“No why?”

“So who was that woman then?”

“What woman?” Steve asks as he turns around to look what Bucky was staring at.

Bucky then describes you and waits for Steve to answer.

“Buck there’s no one here fitting that description…”

“Oh.”

“Are you alright pal?”

“Yeah, no I’m fine” He forces a smile.

For the first time in 15 years someone’s finally seen and heard you, going through all these years with no communication with anyone or having someone look at you and not through you had gotten easier as time went on. The first two years were extremely difficult and painful. You couldn’t understand why the construction crew was ignoring you and not listening to your pleading.

A year into the development of the huge building that was Stark Tower and now better known as Avengers Tower the building came to a halt when one of the workers screamed ‘we’ve found a body’, like everyone else you ran over to investigate. The burnt skeleton remains were taken away and two weeks later you heard the crew talking about the body-

“Apparently her name was Y/n L/n, died in the fire last year” Bobby the foreman said.

You laughed “that’s wrong because I’m right here guys” waving your hands around.

But nobody batted an eye or flinched when you jumped in front of them.

That’s when it dawned on you that you were dead.

You remember the day that you got your memories back from your death and it was all thanks to the bad guys who had attacked the tower.

*5 years ago*

The alarms were going off, bright red lights flashing, people were screaming and you was trying to calm them down. Helping Bruce and Nat lead people to safety, away from the destruction. The three of you and those that you was rescuing go down the stairs and Nat opened the door to the ground floor before she slammed it shut again.

“Nat we need to go” Bruce says with panic.

“We-we can’t go that way” she explains.

You knew why, you saw it as she opened the door.

The burning flames were pounding on the door that was stopping it from getting to any of you.

“Bruce we’ve got to go back up!”

Nobody batted an eye as you stumbled back and slid down the wall. Nobody batted an eye as you pulled on your hair muttering something that even you didn’t know under your breath.

They left you behind as you was transported back to 10 years prior.

*10 years before that*

You was sitting in your apartment, knees to your chest, trying to concentrate on what the couple on the screen was saying.

The raised voices coming from your fathers room we’re getting louder and louder as he argued with his girlfriend Lyra, her accusing him of cheating on her which made you laugh since you caught her having sex in the laundry room with the drug dealer that lived two floors up. Since she had no money for his supplies she had to pay in other ways.

Flinching when you heard the sound of skin hitting skin and closing your eyes tightly when you heard Lyra scream out. Your father always had a temper especially when he was drinking and since he had been laid off from the factory, drinking was all he did. A small vile part of you was happy that Lyra was around as it meant he no longer hit you, the abuse you suffered from the hands of your father started a week after your mother left him for another man, leaving you behind.

Lyra came running out of the bedroom with tears streaming down her cheeks as the welt was already forming, your father soon following holding two lit candles in his hands he threw the first one and the next.

The next thing you knew was that the apartment you had grown up in was in flames. You was rooted in fear at not only the fire but as Lyra screaming at you to leave despite her being attacked by your father.

The fire had spread quickly throughout the apartment complex, screams and chaos all around you. You kept going down the stairs until you found yourself in the basement, with no idea of why you was down there, you tried to turn back but the flames pushed you further and further into the normally cold room.

*back to the present*

It scared you that now after 15 years you’ve been a ghost for that someone can now finally see you, it made you smile that it was Bucky that could but the question of why? Why now played on your mind.

Not even the medium who Tony brought in after heard “ghostly noises” couldn’t see or hear you, the “ghostly noises” that Tony heard was just Natasha and Bruce having sex in his lab, you promised the pair you wouldn’t say anything so you didn’t.

So you did the most rational thing. Avoided him.

Which lasted for two weeks until Bucky came onto your territory.

Minding your own business your eyes squinting at the sound of the door opening, hearing Steve’s voice you didn’t think anything of it.

“I’m telling you Buck this is the best place to hide presents, no one ever comes down here” it was true, the last time someone came down here was two agents who was trying to have sex and you wasn’t going to have that. People coming into your home and trying to do the nasty, absolutely not! So you started messing with the pipes and banging objects, causing them to stop and the woman getting scared, she ended up running away leaving the man who started calling her nasty names. He became your enemy. Not like you could actually do anything to him but the statement still stood.

“If you say so punk”.

“I do say so.”

“Here grab these so I can get the rest”

With Steve leaving it was just you and Bucky in the basement now.

“Oh, hi I didn’t see you there” Bucky says.

“Yo-you can actually see me?”

“Yes…why aren’t I suppose to?”

“No”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a ghost”

Both of his eyebrows shoot up and he starts laughing “of course you are”

“No I actually am.”

“Yeah yeah, is this a prank that the spider kid has put you up to?”

“His name is Peter and no it’s not a pra-“

“Hey Buck who are you talking to?” Steve asks as he comes back in with more gift bags.

“Her” Bucky points over to where you stand.

“Bucky there’s no one there…”

“See I told you!” You say with your arms crossed.

“B-but”

“Look he can’t see me, even if I do this” You moved away from the wall and jumped in front of Steve who of course looks straight through you. “You’re the only one for some reason”.

Bucky pales, “but how?”

“Buck?”

“I-I need to go”

Both you and Steve watch him run up the steps and away from you.

“You know Steve, I didn’t expect him to have that kind of reac-oh yeah no its fine to leave it wasn’t like I was finished talking.”

For three weeks you kept you kept yourself isolated in the basement not knowing what it meant now that someone could see and hear you even if it was just Bucky.

Over the past 12 or 13 years you kept yourself to a routine but since Bucky had ruined that for you, you kept yourself occupied - okay you was going slightly insane.

Not realising that the door had come open you was completely unaware that Bucky was standing there watching you-

“Okay so the first order of business is that we need to take out the bad men who call themselves “The trash” in order to succeed we need strong men and women who will lay down their lif-“

You’re cut off by a laugh; you turn and see Bucky who winces at your screams.

“Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to scare you”

“W-what are you doing here?”

“Were you talking to the mops and buckets?” He asks ignoring your question.

“That’s completely unrelated. What are you doing here?”

“You was weren’t you, hey don’t stop on my account you’ve got to finish your speech or they’ll leave”

“Yo-you’re making fun of me. Stop it” you mumble

“No I’m not, I’m just saying carry on with talking to the mops-oh is that a broom?”

“L-leave now please”

“Aw come on I’m only joking”

“I don’t find it funny, now leave”

He watches as you turn your back to him as you bring your hand up to your face, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Hey doll I’m sorry, I-I was trying to joke with you but it wasn’t funny I’m sorry”

“Whatever just leave”

Bucky listens and complies but as he reaches the top step he turns round and walks back down to you.

“D-doll I really am sorry. I just wanted to talk to you, I’ve been looking around for you and I figured I’d find you here”

“Y-you’ve been looking for me? Why?”

“Well I wanted to ask you some questions” he rubs the back of his neck with his left hand.

“Your arm…”

“Huh? Oh yeah it was a gift from Shuri, do you like it?”

“It’s very pretty” you say with a slight blush.

“Thank you” he too blushes.

“You said you had some questions?”

“Yeah, is it okay if I sit?” Pointing to an old couch that Tony had brought down many years ago.

“Of course”

Watching him sit on the dusty old thing brought a slight smile to your face.

“Are you going to sit?”

“Yep” taking the seat on the end and on the edge.

“So, you’re a ghost?”

“Yep”

“So, you’re dead?”

“Yep”

“When?”

“15 years ago”

“How?”

“Fire”

“Where?”

“Here”

“What?”

“My apartment complex was here before the tower was”

“Oh”

“Yep”

A semi uncomfortable silence fell between you two. He shifted and rubbed his hands on his thighs whilst you twiddled your thumbs.

Bucky broke the silence “how long have you been around us all?”

“Since more and more people came to the tower”

“Oh.”

“Yep”

Silence fell once again but this time lasted a good 20 minutes. 20 slow and painful minutes.

“H-how come you’re not in like heaven or hell?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Isn’t there any other ghosts you could ask?”

“There’s been a few over the years but none of them ever had any answers for me”

“May-maybe you need to do something or have something done to move you on?” Bucky shrugs.

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure. How did the fire start do you know?”

“My father” when he gave you a questioning yet shocked look you explained everything that you remembered that day.

“I’m so sorry ghosty”

“Ghosty?” You burst out laughing.

“Yeah well I don’t know your name so…ghosty”

“Y/n”

Watching as his lips form your name sent imaginary chills down your spine.

“Y/n, I like it, did your dad go prison?”

“No why?”

“Maybe that’s why you’re still stuck here. I can help y-“

“But I don’t want to move on.” Cutting him off.

“Why?”

“Because then that means I’ll be dead”

“But doll, you are”

Standing up so you can pace around the small area “I know that but if I move on it will mean I’m dead dead you know?”

“But why? You’ve spent that past 15 years with no one seeing or hearing you. You really want to do another 15?”

“And another 15 after that if it means I get to be around people and I don’t have to be alone, I don’t want to be just gone and Bucky I’m not hurting anyone I swear!” You shouted at him, your last words more quieter, more like a whimper.

Finally admitting it to someone else hurt, admitting that you would rather keep being ignored and never seen by anyone ever again was better than being alone and dead. And yes whilst you was technically alone it wasn’t the same, you got to be around people, listened to their jokes or stories, listened to their complaints or worries. You was happy to continue to be a shoulder for them to cry on even if they didn’t know you was there or couldn’t hear you words of encouragement and advice.

And it was true what you had said to him, you wasn’t hurting anyone. You couldn’t even imagine of causing another person any form of pain, even when you was alive.

“Dol-no Y/n come back!”

Bucky was angry with himself. The first time he got to speak to her properly, he ruined it. The pain in her voice when she told him she didn’t want to be alone tugged on his heart.

He went to the basement at least eight times a day to apologise but she was never there. He knew that if anyone was walking down the corridor leading to the basement they’d be able to hear him talking to himself.

He walked with purpose down the corridor to Sam’s room, knocking on the door he grew impatient at how long it was taking Sam to answer, it had only been 5 seconds.

“What’s up Buck?”

“One I told you not to call me that. Two I need the computer thing”

“It’s called a laptop Buck”

“Don’t call me that. And can I have it”

“Sure you can Buck let me go and grab it for you Buck”

“I’m going to kill you in a minute”

“Of course you are Buck, here” Sam laughs giving him the laptop before shutting the door in his face.

Going back into his bedroom he goes on the internet just like Peter had showed him, he first typed in ‘Stark Tower fire’ coming up with all different things. Then he typed in ‘before Stark Tower fire’ which had only confused him more. Trying one more time he typed ‘Stark Tower apartment fire’ bingo!

Clicking on the first link showed him the apartment before the fire, during and after. He learned that the complex housed lower income families, that the fire was deemed as an accident due to faulty electrical systems.

Scrolling down further he stopped. The photo of you that he assumed was from school was there, the girl in the photo smiling back to him and next to it read ‘Y/n L/n died in apartment fire one week away from her 21st birthday. Her body has yet to be found’ and just a little bit further down was another link that read ‘Y/n L/n was found 1 year after the tragedy of the fire’ clicking on it he read more, how the construction crew had found her and how scientists confirmed that it was the body of Y/n’s. A photo was underneath the headline that showed the crew, Bucky had to do a double take when he saw you. Sitting on the floor looking out of frame with what Bucky thought was tears on your face.

Taking the laptop with him he ran to Steve’s room, rapidly knocking until the blonde answered.

“Buck? What’s wrong?” Steve says whilst rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Walking straight past his friend he goes to sit on the bed “come here and look”

Listening Steve sits next to him “when was this?”

“14 years ago but look, there’s that girl I described to you” pointing and looking up at Steve who scrunched up his eyebrows.

“Buck I can’t see anything…”

“Pretty girl on the ground looks like she’s crying”

“Bucky are you alright? You’ve not been the same since you came back from Wakanda. I can ask King T’Challa if you can go ba-“

“Steve listen okay this girl she’s dead. She died 15 years ago and I can see her, I’m the only one that can and I don’t know why bu-but I never saw her before until I came back-“

“Buck slow dow-“

“-but I ruined it between us and now I can’t see her anywhere I keep looking I do Stevie but she won’t appear no matter how much I beg her too an-and I think she hates me”

“Bucky please slow down! Tell me everything but slowly”

So he does.

Steve sits there dumbfounded by what his best friend is telling him, and the craziest part of it was is that he believes every word coming out of his mouth.

“Okay, let’s try and think of a plan together”

And they do.

The next day Bucky makes his way back to the basement when he hears your voice softly seeping underneath the door his heart skips.

“-I’m not sure” silence “maybe I should let him help me so I can move on” more silence “I’m just scared though”

“Y/n?”

“Bucky?”

“Hi um who are you talking to?”

“Just myself, so I came to a conclusion that I want you to help me move on. I’m ready and it’s time”

Bucky notices that there’s a slight hesitation in your words and he spots the way you gulp at the end of your sentence. “Well I have a better idea, I did a lot of research last night and I found out that you don’t have a headstone so I tho-“

“I don’t have a headstone?” You whisper.

It’s now his turn to gulp “No doll, it’s an unmarked grave but I know exactly where it is, where you are” He rephrases.

“Why? Why don’t I have one?”

Oh he hates it. He hates how small you sound; he doesn’t like how you’re twisting your fingers together. “I-I’m not sure doll” That was a lie.

Neither of your parents wanted to spend money on a funeral or a proper burial for you, so it was up to the county to do it.

“Is-is that why am not dead-dead?”

“I’m not sure, it might be… but listen I’m going to get you a headstone - a real nice one, and if-if you want you’ll always be able to go there and Y/n please don’t think I want you to leave because I don’t okay, I really don’t I just want you to find peace”

“I-you don’t have to do that Bucky, it’s a lot of money and I’m not worth a single penny”

Now his heart cracks. “Don’t say that, you’re worth it don’t worry” he smiles which doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s okay honestly I think there’s more of an easier, less expensive way to get rid of me. All we have to do is think”

“Y/n-“

“Come on we need to think”

“Doll there’s no need to think about anything, I’ve already gone through with my plan.”

“What?”

“The headstones being made as we speak and Steve’s getting everyone on board.”

The way your eyes bulge out would have made him laugh but he wills himself not to.

“Wh-what’s going on?”

“Sit and I’ll tell you” he smiles as both of you sit on the couch.

On the other side of the compound the rest of the team sit with amusement written over their faces as Steve tell them about Bucky and his ghost friend.

“You two have lost the plot” Sam laughs.

“Would you two be able to be put into an old people’s home?” Nat wonders out loud.

“Probably as they’re both over 100” Tony retorts to Nat.

“Guys I’m being serious” Steve says with his hands on his hips.

“Wait when did you say the fire was?” Tony asks him.

“15 years ago”

“I remember that, there was only one person that died - many were injured weren’t there?”

“Yeah. Y/n was the unfortunate one”

“And she’s been here ever since?”

“Yes”

“So she knows us?”

“Yes. Look let me ring Bucky and get him to bring her up here and we’ll ask questions that no one else would know apart from her and see if she was around at that time”

The team nods so that’s exactly what he does.

“Doll we’re needed upstairs, the team don’t exactly believe me or Steve so they’re going to ask questions and see if you was there or not, is that okay with you?”

“Okay”

The both of you head upstairs and for some reason you’re nervous, something that you’ve never been when around any of them.

“So Barnes, Rogers here tells us that you can see ghosts?” Tony starts.

“Ghost. Just one” he answers. “Okay ask your questions”

“Where exactly are we looking?” Sam now asks.

Bucky gestures to where you stand and obviously all they see is nothing.

“Okay, I’ll play along. Little ghost was you there when I created my iron man suit?”

“She said no”

“Was it you who made ghostly noises?”

Bucky struggles not to laugh “she said no”

“Wait why are you laughing?”

“Because she told me who it was and umm Tony they weren’t ghostly noises”

“What were they then?”

“Sounds of pleasure” Bucky says as he winks at Bruce.

The team start laughing at Bruce’s bright red cheeks and when they notice Nat sinking further into her chair their laughs becomes louder.

“Okay okay I want to ask the ghost something next” Sam laughs.

“Her name is Y/n”

“Okay Y/n what’s my nightly routine?”

“I’m not saying that!” - “No Y/n” - “please don’t make me say it!” - “godsake fine! Sam your nightly routine is you have a shower, brush your teeth, you do 50 push ups whilst na-naked and then -I think I’m going to be sick- you wank off before going to sleep”

“Ah yes! I believe them, Hi Y/n”

“She says hi”

The questions continued for well over an hour, the team finally believing that she was-

“Holy fucking shit!” Tony shouts.

“What? Oh”

“Fuck”

Bucky looked at Y/n who was staring at him with a confused expression which he just shrugs his shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, guys what’s up?”

“W-we can fucking see her!” Sam shouts.

“What?”

“We can see her Barnes!”

It was true. They could all see you.

“H-how?” You stumble out, after all these years of being invisible and being unheard from everyone around you and all its took is for everyone to believe that you actually exist.

“I-we don’t know. This is crazy even for me” Tony says.

“You can hear me?”

“Yes sweetheart”

Months went by, you was now able to leave the compound by visiting the cemetery. You was there alongside the Avengers when your headstone was placed, each member placed a rose on the grave all giving you a small smile.

It took you some time to get use to being seen and heard, no more conversations with yourself as someone was always around to answer.

Yours and Bucky’s friendship grew, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t have a crush on him. And unknown to you he had a crush on you too. It hurt both of you because you knew it wouldn’t be able to work for the two of you with the main reason being that you were dead.

It was the anniversary of your death Bucky and Steve were on a mission which Bucky wasn’t happy about. You was walking down the corridor when Wanda ran out of her room shouting your name.

“Jesus Christ Wanda don’t do that again!” You scolded, still not use to the whole they could see you now thing.

“Sorry” she chuckled.

“It’s fine what’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, its just-its better if I show you”

Frowning you followed her back to her room. “Wanda what’s going on?”

“So I’ve been working on something, for you-“

“For me?”

“Yes and I think I’ve managed to figure out a way to bring you back to life”

Blinking once, twice, you burst out laughing.

“Wanda that’s impossible”

“Not really…just come over here and let’s see if it works and if it doesn’t I’ll try again okay”

Doing as she says you stand in the middle of her room eyebrows raising as her fingers start to glow.

Nothing happens.

“H-how do you feel?” She asks hopefully.

“The same way I’ve felt for the past 15 years Wand, dead.”

Sighing in defeat “I’m so sorry Y/n I’ll keep try-“. Her words are cut off by a deep growl.

“W-what was that?” You stutter out.

“FRIDAY how many heartbeats are in my room?”

“Two Miss Maximoff”

“Who’s?”

“Yours and Miss Y/n’s”

“Catch” Wanda says as a book comes flying at you.

Wanda and you stand there facing each other with wide eyes. You caught the book.

“Oh my god. Wan-Wanda it worked”

After both screaming and crying your taken down to Bruce’s lab where your examined and blood, yes blood, was drawn.

Nobody could believe it and neither could you either but somehow Wanda brought you back to the land of the living.

Everyone promised not to say anything to Bucky as you wanted to surprise him.

A week later on your birthday Bucky and Steve came back from a successful mission. In that week Nat and Sam had to go and do three food shops as you kept eating everything. What can I say you’d been dead for 15 years.

You and the team was waiting on the hanger for them to exit the quinjet. Steve was out first shortly followed by a very tired Bucky but as soon as his eyes found yours he smiled hugely.

“Hey Y/n I’ve miss-“

You cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck. Bucky stiffened at first not believing it was really happening then he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling your further in.

“H-how?”

“Wanda”

“Oh”

After Tony coughed making the pair of you pull apart you - mainly Wanda - explained everything to the two super soldiers. Bucky refusing to let go of you completely. Steve smiled and gave you a small hug.

Much later that night you and Bucky was sitting on his bed with his arm around you when he abruptly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“There’s ten minutes left of your birthday so we’re going to dance”

You watched with an amused smile as he turned the stereo on.

“I got Peter to do this when we was watching the telly earlier” he smiled.

Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers started playing through the speakers.

“Y-you remembered?”

“Of course I did doll, it’s your favourite song how would I forget”

Slow dancing in the middle of Bucky’s room with your favourite song playing in the background on your birthday made this the best birthday you ever had.

“I need your love, I need your love, God speed your love to me”

Bucky sings just as his lips touch yours.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama

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1960z · 1 year ago

Text

“You loved my father, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” With this admission I began to breathe again. For the first time, I allowed myself to feel the deep shame and sickness I have lived with ever since I murdered her father.”

“One can argue that murder is a moral act, even an extreme form of friendship. After all, I killed a person I loved.”

no because I’m so insane about this. he’s described his feelings towards lokar as hatred and he’s described them as love and both are true, the distinction between love and hate is no longer relevant. no matter how hard he tried garak could never shake having strong feelings towards lokar, whether they were positive or negative, love or hate they always persisted. lokar was just that perfect to him, garak needed his presence whether it was to worship it or rage against it and that’s just so fascinating (and queer).

thinking of a stitch in time and how barkan lokar is described as literally the ideal of a cardassian male and the inherent symbolism of garak killing him and that being the last assignment he carries out before he’s exiled.

also thinking about the inherent homoeroticism in passages like garak saying that he’d never been in a “manlier, more attractive presence” and garak being on the wire during lokar’s interrogation meaning anytime lokar assaulted him all garak felt was blinding pleasure-

#the calling was a trip tho it unironically reminded me of the last 2 episodes of evangelion at some points #I was kinda worried I wasn’t gonna like it cause asit ends on this lovely tentatively hopeful note and I was worried that the calling would #ruin that a little what w all the plague and death and destruction #and in a way kinda yeah but it also still gets there to that tentative hope again without it feeling like it was all for nothing like the #status quo has still been changed #and that ending fuck #it’s so sad that garak and pythas’ paths have diverged so much that their relationship can’t truly survive even tho they both still care #deeply for each other #and that julian is always still just out of reach (where is he‼️‼️) but it does feel like there’s hope they’ll find their way back to #each other #makes me really wonder what the scrapped sequel to asit andy was writing w sid was about #apparently they were writing that before the calling too so idk #elim garak #barkan lokar #beta canon #star trek #shut up abe

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covid-safer-hotties · 2 months ago

Text

Reference archived on our website

Could covid be driving an increase in sudden infant death syndrome? Further study is needed, but these statistics aren't looking great.

Key Points Question What is the association between the COVID-19 pandemic and sudden unexpected infant death (SUID) and sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS)?

Findings In this cross-sectional study of 14 308 SUID cases, the risk of SUID and SIDS increased during the intrapandemic period (March 2020 to December 2021) compared with the prepandemic period (March 2018 to December 2019), with the greatest increases noted in 2021 (9% for SUID and 10% for SIDS). A marked statistically significant monthly increase in SUID from June to December 2021 was observed.

Meaning These findings suggest that the pronounced shift in SUID epidemiology during the second year of the COVID-19 pandemic may be associated with altered infectious disease transmission at the time.

Abstract Importance Infection has been postulated as a driver in the sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) cascade. Epidemiologic patterns of infection, including respiratory syncytial virus and influenza, were altered during the COVID-19 pandemic. Comparing month-to-month variation in both sudden unexpected infant death (SUID) and SIDS rates before and during the pandemic offers an opportunity to generate and expand existing hypotheses regarding seasonal infections and SUID and SIDS.

Objective To compare prepandemic and intrapandemic rates of SUID and SIDS, assessing for monthly variation.

Design, Setting, and Participants This cross-sectional study assessed US mortality data provided by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for January 1, 2018, through December 31, 2021. Events with International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems, Tenth Revision codes for SIDS (R95), unknown (R99), and accidental suffocation and strangulation in bed (W75) causes of death were examined. The data analysis was performed between November 2, 2023, and June 2, 2024.

Exposure COVID-19 pandemic.

Main Outcomes and Measures The primary and secondary outcomes were the monthly rates of SUID and SIDS during the COVID-19 pandemic (March 1, 2020, to December 31, 2021) compared with the prepandemic period (March 1, 2018, to December 31, 2019) as measured using generalized linear mixed-effects models. Seasonal trends in RSV and influenza rates were also examined.

Results There were 14 308 SUID cases from January 1, 2018, to December 31, 2021 (42% female infants). Compared with the prepandemic period, the risk of SUID increased during the intrapandemic period (intensity ratio [IR], 1.06; 95% CI, 1.05-1.07). Monthly assessments revealed an increased risk of SUID beyond the prepandemic baseline starting in July 2020, with a pronounced epidemiologic shift from June to December 2021 (ranging from 10% to 14%). Rates of SIDS were elevated throughout the intrapandemic period compared with the prepandemic baseline, with the greatest increase in July 2021 (IR, 1.18; 95% CI, 1.13-1.22) and August 2021 (IR, 1.17; 95% CI, 1.13-1.22). Seasonal shifts in RSV hospitalizations correlated with monthly changes in SUID observed during 2021.

Conclusions and Relevance This cross-sectional study found increased rates of both SUID and SIDS during the COVID-19 pandemic, with a significant shift in epidemiology from the prepandemic period noted in June to December 2021. These findings support the hypothesis that off-season resurgences in endemic infectious pathogens may be associated with SUID rates, with RSV rates in the US closely approximating this shift. Further investigation into the role of infection in SUID and SIDS is needed.

#mask up #pandemic #covid #covid 19 #wear a mask #public health #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator #SUID #SIDS

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yuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie · 5 months ago

Text

Yandere Billy and Stu (2/4)

“Dewey!” She cried out

Instinctively Dwight ran over to her. Immediately wrapping arms around the woman’s sobbing form, not letting go as her cries muffled against his jacket, he held her tightly. Shushing her quietly, “Y/n!” Tatum herself arrived right after her older brother, she shoved the male to the side and hugged you tightly. Police barged into the home, on search. “What happened?” Dwight was just as concerned as Tatum, hell from the screaming and crying they could already tell what had happened, not until heads turned around to see Billy.

“Officer-i didn’t do anything!” Billy declared, angrily wriggling against the grip of the officer along with the cuffs. He locked eyes with you it sent shivers down your spine how void of emotion they looked. “Y/n! Tell them-“ The officer had none of it before Billy was shoved into the back of the car. You were frustrated how so suddenly and coincidentally your best friend Sidney’s boyfriend just shows up at the window right after an attacker that didn’t last too long fortunately, Tatum looked you over. “Dwight-please she should stay with us for now!”

Tatum knew better than to leave you alone, no one deserved to grief the death of their friend and have the same person who killed her friend come after her aswell. Y/n dealt with it alone would only toll on the poor girl. Her hair was all messy and a bit matted, She needed a break, a real long break from everything, going back to their house, their mother welcomed you eagerly with open arms to stay over, Tatum had been in the bathroom, While Dwight had been fluffing the pillows as clumsily, he remembered copying Tatum when she made her bed. “You can stay with Tatum.” His words were comforting, you had hoped no one fell victim to the killer anymore afterwards. Tatum arrived back, looking at you. “Billy is such a freak.” She mumbled before she sat on the bed opposite of you. You looked at her from the plush pillow. “Other than..what he did just now,” You started. Tatum nodded, “I don’t trust him even with Sid you know?”

Sidney was your friend ever since you moved to woodsboro, she knew you before the whole ordeal, ever since Billy started dating her Tatum saw the way Billy would look at you. He was weird, but the mention of Sidney tugged your heart strings, you knew she went missing right after Casey. It left only you, Tatum, Dwight. Billy, Randy, and Stu, but you were more comfortable around your friend’s boyfriend than Billy. Stu always made you laugh, he was eccentric but you couldn’t help but feel unease under his gaze-

—

Morning came around as sun shone through the windows of Tatum’s house, the blonde woke up before you. Just as tired before both of you walked to school, she had an arm around you. “Hey Y/n?” You both got interrupted by the sound of Randy’s voice. The Moviestore geek smiled at you. Tatum rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t want to talk.” He frowned a bit before he got to your side. He saw you flash him a small smile, your hand entertwined with his.

Ever since you and Randy got well acquainted you hadn’t admitted the fact you had a crush on the boy, despite everyone really just casting him in a bad light as some psycho geek sometimes, with recent news of Billy being interrogated as of current in the office. It was why Dewey wasn’t here,

“You heard about what happened with that guy?” “Billy?” Randy wasn’t the biggest fan of billy, he continued “It’s like standard horror movie shit- i told you he’s the prime suspect” Tatum gave Randy a side glare, “Did they interrogate you aswell?” She turned to him, it was a light question.

“Why would they ask you if you like to hunt. “‘Cause their bodies were gutted.”

The sound of Stu’s voice startled everyone. But you saw the way his eyes focused on you. He sent Randy a glare that only he would see, “Hey buddy.” He mocked, looking him up and down. Randy just stared blankly, not fazed. He looked back at you, sending you a look only you could see. He didn’t like Stu. “Hey Stu didn’t you used to date Casey?” You spoke up, As you all settled near the fountain. “Yeah for like 2 seconds.” He chortled, “Before she dumped you for Steve” Randy leaned his head in and chimed for a second.

“I thought you dumped her for me?” Tatum asked, Stu nodded and looked at Randy again, “I did he’s full of shit.” Randy retorted, “Maybe you did kill her since she dumped you.”

“Stu was with me,” Tatum shifted closer to Stu, he nodded aswell, sending a sleazy grin to Randy not without glancing at you,

—

Moving to woodsboro was a hectic start back then. But it was a opportunity to have made friends since you had moved there at a young age you had forgotten your own home town of before, but ever since this ghostface fucked around the town. Whoever they were,

“Well everyone has those officer.” Billy declared, the male had been abandoned at the police station for interrogation. To everyone’s dismay as the sheriff checked a call record there was no proof of him ever calling anyone at all. Deep down he was happy in a twisted way. He saw everyone here a potential victim afterwards. He cleared the record. No one would get in between him and Stu and you.

Ever since Stu laid eyes on you, Casey’s friend. Albeit, him and Billy yes, well weren’t expecting it. They’re killers, not people meant to be lovers, but it was a thorough plan both males had been thinking about ever since, no one ever suspected them, if Billy could get his hands on you again..

——

Walking back home to Tatum’s house, she was out for a while, you remembered her telling you she needed to get a few things before she came back. Wandering alone in the house your mind swam with thoughts. You heard the telephone ring,

Anger bubbled into her as she thought about it. Her hands clenching onto the phone pulling it out of the receiver. “You son of a bitch!” The words came out with a flurry of emotions. She couldn’t hold back her hatred for this cruel killer, “Ah ah ah, that’s not how you great a friend, is it?” It sounded more grainy, whoever this was. No one would admit to give it to them the modulator being used for their voice was more to hide the evidence and identity of who they were. “We aren’t friends you ps-psycho!” And it couldn’t helpt but break into tears again, they had killed her friends, they had attacked her, she didn’t have her parents. What more could she do? She had hoped Tatum arrived soon. “Why the tears. Y/N?” They snarled on the phone angrily. “Fuck you!” The phone was shoved back into the receiver. Falling onto the floor breaking into wails.

T”Y/N!” Tatum’s eyes widened, the blonde rushed over to her sobbing friend’s side. She hugged her tightly and felt tears soaking her own shirt, “What’s wrong, Y/N? Was it him again?”

Tatum heard the phone ring again, she couldn’t let this happen, it can’t keep happening. Seeing her friend, who had nothing to do with this, who was innocent, to be toyed with like this, “T-tate-no!” She cried.

“Who the fuck is this? What the hell do you think this is some kind of joke?!”

Static was on the other side, this only got more out of hand by day. “Your protecting your dear little Y/N.”

“Tatum?” They taunted,

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grimoireofhayley · 1 year ago

Text

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn't aware of)

Word Count: 1k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie @juda-the-simp @colsons-baker @junnniiieee07 @octaviablakeslove

A/n: I'm sorry for another short chapter, but hopefully the detail makes up for the somewhat shortness, haha. My kids are finally at their dad's and now I am able to publish chapters all weekend. I would like to thank each and everyone of you for taking your time to read, heart, comment and reblog. It makes me so unbelievably happy! So, thank you! <3

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 8

Gale Weathers was quick to show up at your house, her neon-yellow skirt flapping behind her and her cheeks rouge from almost tripping out of her work van.

“Jesus! The camera, hurry!” She snapped at her cameraman, who seemed to be struggling to hold the object on his shoulder.

“My name isn’t Jesus..” He trailed, Gale only ignored him as she flattened her outfit and picked up speed, almost jogging towards the police car you were in.

She ducked down, trying to catch a glimpse of your face, the car now in drive, “(Y/n), is that you in there?” She shouted, tapping frantically at the window.

You flipped her off, annoyed that she was here, fortunately, Burke sensed your aggravation and noticed Gale; he pressed on the gas and the vehicle picked up speed down the driveway.

“Excuse me…” Gale shouted at your friend, “Was that (Y/n) they took away?” She asked, walking after Tatum.

“I am not talking to you right now…” Tatum scorned, trying to ignore Gale’s constant questioning.

“What happened to her?”

“None of your damn business!” Tatum yelled, storming up to her car.

“I heard something about a mask, a costume of some sort, is that true?” The brunette followed Tatum, once again tapping at a car’s window.

“Can you tell me anything, anything at all?”

“Yeah, you are an absolute pain in the ass!”

Tatum sped off, causing Gale to move away.

“Leave both Sid and (Y/n) alone!”

Gale scoffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, anger flashing across her orbs.

“Where is she going?” Her cameraman suddenly popped up behind her.

Gale gave him a sour look as she grabbed his wrist, her voice changing octave. “Look, Kenny.” She started, looking up at the bigger-taller man. “I know you’re about 50 pounds overweight, but when I say “hurry,”” She raised her tone, pointing a finger at him. “Please interpret that as “move your fat, tub-of-lard ass now!”” She groaned, ripping her mic away from his hand.

You hurried into the police station, your shoes squeaking off the cleanliness of the ground, you spotted Sidney in the distance causing you to stop in your tracks.

She looked at you, eyes wide and pink from crying, another Officer’s jacket draped over her, assuming to comfort her from the traumatic event that happened around the same time yours did.

You mouthed at her, narrowing your eyes, your brows almost fusing together at the angry face you made, “How could you?”

Her mouth twitched, not sure how to respond, she slouched deeper into the chair, trying to avoid your death stare.

Sidney placed her hand on her forehead, leaning into her touch, closing her eyes. Stress and sadness eating up her thoughts.

You bit the inside of your cheek, not furthering the intimidation you had on her.

You frowned, looking into a window across from you where Billy sat inside; staring at Sidney with hurt printed on his features, he didn’t acknowledge that you were there yet.

Shaking your head in disappointment, you strolled towards the room.

“Let me ask you this. What’re you doing with a cellular telephone, son?” Officer Brinks asked, not registering that you were there.

“Everyone has one, Officer.” You stated, leaning up against the doorframe, Billy and his father looked at you, somewhat shocked that you were here.

“Miss--”

“(Y/n).” You butted in, introducing yourself, pushing yourself off of the frame, heading towards your friend.

“I came as quickly as I could, Billy.” You smiled warmly at him, placing a small hand on his shoulder, the action caused a faint blush to spread across his cheeks.

“May I?” You asked, nodding towards the empty chair.

Officer Brinks sighed, knowing full well that you were not leaving.

“Please…” He motioned for you to sit, which you gladly accepted. “Why aren’t you with Sheriff Burke?” He crossed his arms, leaning against his chestnut-coloured desk.

“I’ll answer that when it is my turn.” You smirked, “Right now, please, go ahead, continue with your accusation.” You pointed towards Billy, leaning into your chair.

“Very well.” Brinks mumbled, looking from you to Billy.

“I did not make those calls, I swear.” Billy groaned, a brown piece of hair falling in front of his face.

“Check the phone bill, for Christ’s sake.” His father interjected. “Call Vital Phone Comp. They got records of every number dialed.”

“Gee, thanks Hank, we’re on top of it.” Brinks gripped the edge of his desk.

You glared at the officer, listening intently.

“What were you doing over at Sidney’s house tonight?”

“I wanted to see her, that’s all.” Billy folded his hands together.

“And last night? Sidney said you crawled through her window last night, too.”

“You went out last night?” Hank suddenly said, you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I was watching TV and got bored, okay? I decided to go out for a drive.” He stated plainly.

“Did you happen to drive by Casey Becker’s house?”

Billy dismissed the question, “No. No, I didn’t.”

“Alright, that’s enough..” You intervened, standing up. “He came to my house after Sidney’s. He’s no killer.” You snipped, “Sidney lives at least 7-10 minutes away from me, where Casey’s place is 15 to 20 minutes away from me.” You sighed, “ There’s not a chance in hell he could’ve killed both Casey and Steve and still manage to get to my place in that time frame. Clearly there’s two of them, but Billy is not one.”

<- Previous Next ->

#fanfiction #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x reader #billy x you x stu #scream franchise #stu macher #billy x stu #stu macher x reader #stu macher x female reader

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saintsenara · 5 months ago

Note

Spill the Stan is a death eater tea

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i've been committed to believing ever since half-blood prince came out that stan shunpike is a genuine death eater - and not as crack, but as an example of how the series' politics flattening into a straightforward good-versus-evil narrative as the books reach their conclusion is at the detriment of what war, radicalisation, and resistance actually looks like.

stan's arrest in half-blood prince is unquestioningly presented in the text as nothing more than government corruption. there is never any suggestion that his charges are legitimate - arthur weasley tells us that he was imprisoned to let scrimgeour save face; harry then says this to scrimegour's face, and scrimgeour doesn't refute it.

but - more interestingly - nor is there any suggestion that stan's charges - illegitimate or not - might be plausible.

stan is arrested - to quote hermione - after he's "overheard talking about the death eaters' secret plans in a pub". all three members of the trio immediately decide that anything he's claimed to have said can be totally dismissed as just someone who is demonstrably grandiose and attention-seeking chatting shit.

and sure, stan clearly does love a nonsensical boast. i'm certainly not saying that i think that him - for example - claiming to be voldemort's right-hand man [and therefore in charge of some intricate, high-level, thrilling, and dangerous mission] would be anything close to the truth.

but i think it's really striking that none of the trio ever considers that stan might not only have been overheard talking about the death eaters' plans in a way which implied insider knowledge of voldemort's actions, but in a way which expressed ideological support for them.

that is to say, the trio don't learn of his arrest and assume that he's one of voldemort's ordinary foot soldiers making himself look more important than he is by pretending that he's a marked death eater in the dark lord's inner circle... they assume that any pro-voldemort sentiment he may have expressed isn't something he genuinely believes.

[which is then built upon in deathly hallows, when stan's appearance among voldemort's forces during the seven potters chase is dismissed by harry - without any real pushback - as being the result of him being under the imperius curse.]

the doylist text undoubtedly intends harry's interpretation of things to be understood as correct. throughout the series, harry is shown to be someone with incredibly good intuition when it comes to working out people's motivations and loyalties. his immediate dislike of characters such as draco malfoy, gilderoy lockhart, and dolores umbridge is entirely justified. his immediate trust in characters such as sirius is the same.

his only misjudgments relate to characters who are crucial to the narrative outside of his personal feelings towards them - harry's wrong to trust the teenage tom riddle in chamber of secrets, he’s wrong to trust the fake “moody” in goblet of fire, he’s wrong to trust “bathilda bagshot” in deathly hallows, and he is, of course, wrong about both snape and dumbledore.

since stan isn't important to the narrative outside of harry's own views, then, the reader is clearly intended to think that harry's assessment is right - which [given that arthur and harry's conversation about stan's illegitimate imprisonment comes the day before scrimgeour arrives at the burrow, tells him umbridge still works for the ministry, and tries to get him to be a poster-boy for the government] primes the reader to regard scrimgeour as an antagonist, his ministry as corrupt, and the state as fundamentally useless to the anti-voldemort cause.

[and - of course - it also makes the reader think of sirius, similarly falsely imprisoned by a ministry which was more concerned with looking effective than it was with justice.]

however...

throughout the series, the positive character trait which is harry's good intuition has a flip-side which is less so - that the judgements he reaches on people are self-serving. harry tends to regard people as good [and right] if they're nice to him personally and bad [and wrong] if they're cruel to him - and to be very, very unwilling to deviate from this black-and-white assessment of people unless he's forced into nuance by something he's unable to ignore.

the most obvious example of this in canon is the fact that harry is totally unwilling to criticise sirius' treatment of kreacher - because sirius is kind to him and harry loves him, and kreacher is unkind to him and harry loathes him - until the revelations about kreacher's involvement in retrieving the locket [and a series of stone-cold banger quotes from hermione] compel him to acknowledge that sirius could be a good man and simultaneously deserving of criticism for the absolute contempt he showed towards his slave.

[and harry will continue on this journey of learning to see people in shades of grey throughout deathly hallows - the conclusion of which depends on him being able to acknowledge both dumbledore and snape as flawed, contradictory people, neither wholly good nor wholly bad.]

harry's conviction that stan's arrest is illegitimate is rooted in this tendency towards making definitive, self-interested judgements without considering factors other than his own personal feelings on the matter. harry thinks that stan is ridiculous and irritating, and he also clearly thinks that he isn't very clever or sophisticated and that his lies are so over-the-top that they can always be spotted - and that this [plus the fact that stan is perfectly kind to him on the occasions they meet in canon] therefore means that he's fundamentally harmless, and anyone assuming that he would be capable of something dark is misguided at best.

but stan is also a young, working-class man [something the text communicates via how it writes him speaking with an accent], who's stuck in what is undoubtedly a low-paying, dead-end job, and who presumably lacks any connections who might help him advance beyond the limits his class-status sets for him.

[not least because - given how the text presents him as speaking and behaving - there's no way he went to hogwarts...]

for someone whose operation seems to have so much to do with the upper echelons of wizarding society - and whose posher supporters clearly believe, at least until deathly hallows, that his ultimate goal is pureblood oligarchy - it's really striking in canon that voldemort's support among the non-elite of wizarding britain seems to be considerable. the snatchers who capture the trio - for example - are all written with regional accents and/or speaking non-standard dialects of british english, which is the series' standard way of communicating to the reader that they're supposed to be understood as working class.

[and that their class-status is supposed to be understood as indicating that they lack a certain amount of sophistication and intelligence... how kind of you, joanne...]

the most plausible explanation - based on what we see in the text - for why and how snape was radicalised into becoming a death eater is to assume that voldemort offered him a way to transcend the limitations placed upon him by his blood-status, class-background, and financial situation in a society which is obsessed with blood, lineage, and correct adherence to elite social convention. and, connected to this, there are hints in canon - especially in deathly hallows - that voldemort and his regime are happy to be understood as populist.

[the "mudbloods steal magic" line put about by the muggleborn registration commission is clearly accompanied by "mudbloods steal your jobs and resources", for example - since "runcorn" - really harry in disguise - is congratulated for ousting the muggleborn dirk cresswell from his post so that a non-muggleborn man who thinks he deserves the position can feel "confident" that he'll get the job...]

due to the doylist text's massively unradical worldview, the thing the good guys are defending from voldemort is the status quo. the order of the phoenix's aim is not only to preserve the state and its institutions broadly unchanged, but to preserve the social structures of the wizarding world broadly unchanged as well [blood-supremacy is out post-voldemort, but the class-system clearly isn't] - and the text thinks that all will be well after the war not because the system is going to be radically torn down and made anew, but because the people in charge of it are good.

[the watsonian explanation for this is that the good guys are - with the exception of mundungus "working-class-and-therefore-feckless" fletcher - all from middle-class-or-above class-backgrounds and all beneficiaries of an elite education and the social cachet this confers, and that a certain lack of understanding of how the state is experienced by people who don't have this status often follows on from this.]

but i think it's interesting - and, tbh, important - to interrogate this more than canon does, and to recognise that there is a lot about the status quo the order is seeking to defend which places someone like stan not just on an uneven playing field, but buried underneath the pitch, with only his over-active imagination for company and no way of getting out.

and one way of doing this is to imagine that the death eaters - like many terrorist groups throughout history - recognise [while the order do not] that stan is someone stuck, greedily dreaming of power and success the status quo can't offer him, and decide to come along with a spade and dig him up...

#asks answered #asenora meta #surprise! it's the class system!

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copingwithobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

Billy is autistic ♾

Just me rambling about an headcanon I take wayyyy too seriously :)

Hyperfixation : horror movies (obviously)

He just keeps talking about it. All the time.

Also him using his hands while talking in this scene

(There's also something to be said about him mentioning the queer actors and not the 'straight' characters but that will be for another post-)

Also in the phone call where we're sure it's him :

(If he was the one calling Casey then there's even more-)

Also him just constantly talking with movie-related things : "It was edited for TV- all the good stuff was cut out", "nice solid R rating, on our way to a NC-17", "lately we're just sort of edited for television", "Maybe your movie-freaked mind lost it's reality button","It's all a movie, it's all...one great big movie.Only you can't pick your genre","I think she wants a motive","I don't really believe in motive, Sid.", "See it's a lot scarier when there's no motive Sid", "Is that motive enough for you ?", "How's that for a motive ?", "Just pretend it's all a scary movie Sid...How do you think it's gonna end ?", "Perfect ending.", "Now Sid, don't you blame the movies. Movies don't create psychos, movies make psychos more creative !" and basing his killing spree on horror movie tropes : phone calls, masked killer, virgins being the final girls (literally having sex with Sidney to fulfill the trope), 'no motive' etc...

2. Abnormal posture

3. Staring (last 2 photos, both scenes in Sidney's room, police station scene...basically when there's Sid) or excessive blinking (doorway scene, kitchen scene...(basically when there's Stu)

4. Plans and changements

Billy (and Stu) planned their entire killing spree (from the dates it would be on : surrounding the one year anniversary of Maureen's death, to the person they would frame and his supposed motive as well as Casey and Steve's murders with the phone call, the attack at Sidney's house, Billy's incarceration, Stu's phone call following it, Billy's fake death, kidnapping Neil before his flight and using his phone, hiding his car, using a voice changer, stabbing each other to seem like victims, the party etc...)

When Billy's (and Stu's) plans get changed (Dewey, Gale and Kenny being present, Sid escaping the kitchen with her dad and Stu losing too much blood), Billy panics and goes into what could be defined as a meldown : throwing out insults, walking in circles, never going to check on the first floor, destroying Stu's living room and just panicking all around-

(When he fails getting Sidney to trust him and makes her escape to the toilets, he punches himself in frustation)

5. Insociability

Basically doesn't talk in the fountain scene

Awkward and Unsettling while talking, even to his friends

Doesn't pay attention to girls being interested in him

Doesn't seem at ease with the number of people leaving the party

(Even fidgeting though that may be just be him checking that the people are leaving for real)

6. Overdramatic

7. Favorite person/people

Okay this one's not that common in autistics but for Billy, he definitely has a special person, two in fact :

He literally started killing because his mom "moved out and abandoned" him.

For Stu, I will be vague cause I'll talk about it in detail in the other post 👀but basically he's not really himself unless Stu's there and planned a killing spree where only they would survive (+ trusted him to stab him).

Bonus : If Billy is the one who called Casey

"I only eat popcorn at the movies" Well I'm getting ready to watch a video "Really what ?" Oh, just some scary movie "You like scary movies ?" Huhuh "What's your favorite scary movie ?" Hum- I don't know... "You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind ?" Hum...Halloween ! You know the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters. "Yeah." What's yours ? "Guess." Hum- Nightmare on Elm Street ! "Isn't that the one where the guy had knives for fingers ?" Yeah, Freddy Krueger. "Freddy, that's right. I liked that movie.It was scary." Well the first one was but the rest sucked."

"It's an easy category : movie trivia"

"Come on, it's your favorite scary movie, remember ? He had a white mask, he stalked the babysitters"

"Then you should know Jason's mother, Mrs Vorhees, was the original killer ! Jason didn't show up until the sequel."

And that's it ! A complete analysis of what could be considered autistic traits from Billy that got way too long-

#scream #scream franchise #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher #sidney prescott #stuilly #autistic headcanon

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iho6hi2 · 1 month ago

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Shattered Ones.

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Fubuki Shirou/GN! Reader

Summary: You fear that you can never be Fubuki's anchor and day by day, you see him sink further into misery. You follow his example.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Survivor Guilt, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, Unresolved Tension, Codependency, Unrequited Love, One-Sided Relationship

Word Count: 3,342

A/N: FUBUKI SHIROU THE MAN THAT YOU ARE YYYOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS. Will forever think about how much trauma Fubuki has gone through and how most of it has gone unaddressed...

Fubuki's eyes are fixed on the picture, unblinking and half-lidded. They have been so for a little over an hour.

His hand grips the photograph. It's not hard enough to cause any creases or damages, but his hold still borders on possessive.

Much like him, you're transfixed. You keep on staring, as if hypnotized by the sight laid out in front of you. However, your attention is not on the photo at all — you don't even give it a single glance. What catches your attention are the dark, heavy bags under Fubuki's eyes; a clear symptom of his restlessness. They're not recent and they have gradually been getting worse.

You're able to relate. Your eyes are also bloodshot and dazed, though they're able to remain focused by pure power of will, distantly observing the direct cause of your own lack of sleep.

He doesn't bother saying anything out loud, nor does he even register your presence lingering behind in the slightest. Fubuki merely gazes at the image, lips continuing to maintain the shape of a frown, which looks natural on his features. He'd spent a good portion of his life looking sullen, after all. Although you can't really tell if his eyes are sad or if he's simply drowning in nostalgia by his lonesome.

You consider approaching him and embracing him, but Fubuki is someone who always looks out of touch with reality whenever physical contact is initiated. He's not sure what to do whenever you hug him out of the blue, though he always manages to play it off as only being caught unprepared.

He would freeze up and blink down at you in shock, lips parted in mute astonishment, before his beautiful, gentle smile takes its typical place on his face. Then he would wrap his arms around you and, even though his muscles tend to tense up whenever you're in close proximity with one another, he would force them to relax midway throughout the hug.

You can see beyond his façade. You always have. Fubuki is not so much an open book as much as he is a torn page from one.

A fleeting scrap of paper with words scribbled on both the front and back. So transparent and yet so opaque at the same time. You struggle to assimilate him despite reading him with such ease.

Either that or you've simply disillusioned yourself into believing you're capable of deciphering him despite it probably not being the case. You don't want to find out the truth in favor of preserving your feelings, which have grown increasingly fragile over the course of your relationship with Fubuki.

You stop leaning against the doorway to your shared bedroom and slowly begin to make your way towards his seat on the bed, doing your best not to step on a loose floorboard and alert him. You loom over his shoulder, studying his furrowed brows and the subtle clench of his jaw first, then redirecting your attention to the picture itself.

Your eyes narrow in suspense before softening in belated realization.

The photograph managed to capture a moment in time where Fubuki appeared to be truly happy for once. His features are young, juvenile. His eyes, which are nothing like today, are round and innocent. They display none of the anguish he holds nowadays and if you didn't know any better, you'd think that he's still capable of smiling so freely and happily.

He never will be. Fate has made it so that he can never find it in his heart to be as carefree as the kid he once used to be.

Your eyes scan the other side of the picture. Fubuki's arms are draped over his little brother's shoulders.

It's Atsuya. You know Atsuya, but you don't really know Fubuki Atsuya. Fubuki Shirou will never know who Fubuki Atsuya could have grown up to be, either.

He only remembers Atsuya as the cocky, overexcited and easily irritable brat. He remembers him as his little brother, who loved to brag and would constantly puff his chest out whenever he scored a goal. His little brother, who tended to surpass him in most aspects. The little brother he lost to an avalanche.

The little brother he grows to miss more and more with every sunrise and every sunset.

Startling you, Fubuki snorts bitterly. "You know what's the worst part about all of this, [Name]?" He doesn't bother looking over his shoulder in order to hold eye contact and you're also in no way surprised he sensed you breathing down his neck, though you were hoping he would be distracted enough not to even notice.

You make no effort to reply; it's not like you could formulate a sensible response regardless. Besides, something tells you Fubuki wasn't expecting an answer and he probably wouldn't appreciate receiving one, either.

At this point, you realize Fubuki isn't necessarily talking to you and more so to himself. You're just an outlet for his frustrations, here to bear witness to his torment and be the shoulder he leans on when everything comes crashing down in flames.

No matter how many times Fubuki opens up his heart to you, it doesn't take away from his pain. Somehow, if that was even possible, it becomes stronger and more prominent with each and every passing day. You know it just as well as he does, but disregarding the fact and choosing to pretend that you're none the wiser doesn't hurt any less.

He continues speaking, clutching the photo in his hand tighter. "I'll be turning twenty-six this year, but he'll always stay only five."

Fubuki Shirou has had acne, he's had to shave. He had went on dates and he had also won countless of matches, not to mention the FFI Cup as well. He's had to constantly conquer his spine-chilling, gruesome fears and treat his own injuries no matter how badly they hurt.

Fubuki Shirou has needed to mature way earlier than any of his peers and he had already developed into an adult, but Atsuya will never know what having a beard was like. He'll never understand how to solve for x. He'll never have his first kiss and he'll never have the pleasure of seeing the ocean or of travelling abroad.

You had never met Fubuki Atsuya. The only one you know is the Atsuya, which can never come close to capturing the real one's essence; he's just a capsule of blurry, distorted, distant memories, which stray from reality.

He doesn't appear in front of you often, but the few times he does, it's always a strange and a memorable experience.

Atsuya only materializes when Fubuki goes through immense amounts of stress, which is a rarity in and of itself with all things considered. Such instances were the time he got replaced as a coach by a member of the Fifth Sector and another was the night before he had to travel to a remote island to rescue kids being tortured by the said organization.

In all of these occurrences, Atsuya shows up abruptly. You never receive a warning and the only telltale signs are his eyes and the intense scowl on his face. Unlike your boyfriend, Shirou, Atsuya's eyes regard you with upfront indifference. You're used to Shirou's sugarcoated acts of reassurance, which do wonders to help distract you from the ugly truth. The truth you consciously attempt to suppress.

Atsuya is nothing like Shirou. He's sardonic, honest, always speaks his mind and never tolerates anything whenever he feels like he's being sligted by someone. Shirou is completely different in that regard; he just keeps on enduring and enduring until he physically can't handle it anymore. Old habits die hard and in some cases, they never die at all.

"Shirou, it's okay if you're—," you begin hesitantly, with your eyes darting anywhere around the room but his face in fear of seeing a flicker of upset directed at you, however he cuts you off before you can finish what you've started.

"It's not okay and you know it, [Name]. It's never going to be okay. Not now and not ever. Please, drop it." Fubuki states and his words carry a tragic tone of finality. He puts an end to whatever uncomfortable conversation you were about to have and leaves in his wake a silence that's just as unbearable and suffocating.

Fubuki didn't raise his voice, but he might as well have just yelled at you right now. Like always, you pipe down with guilt eating away at your insides like a pack of vicious hyenas and simply slump on the bed, keeping noticeable distance between the two of you. The very notion is virgin and celibate, but you don't pay it any mind.

The awkward, tense silence persists for several more mintues before you decide to break it. "Sorry. I always do more bad than good," you sigh and shift to lay on your side, because that way your view of Fubuki is entirely obscured. Whatever emotion contorts his features next, you won't be able to know and this fact brings you immense amounts of relief.

In order for your sanity to remain fully intact, you need to keep yourself blind and ignorant. That's the only way for you to keep holding on.

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault and I shouldn't take it out on you. Atsuya's dead, he has been for a long time and I've accepted that, but every year I'm reminded that he'll never get to grow up like I did. It's like he's stuck in time." Fubuki sniffles without shedding any tears. He's long since lost the ability to cry and all he can do now is scrunch up his nose, staring absently at the ceiling.

You perk up at his words and slowly sit up, cautiously crawling towards him like he's a ticking time bomb you might accidentally set off. You reach him, inch by inch, before hugging his waist and placing your chin on his lap. You're yet to stare into his eyes and, instead, settle for gazing at the messed up pillows to your left.

He makes no move to reciprocate the gesture and you take no offense to it. Even if he were to squeeze your hand or pull you closer, it would be insincere.

You love when Fubuki lays himself bare for you, so you don't need to speculate each and every minute detail in hopes of uncovering hidden meanings. He's fully clothed, but naked to the human eye at the same time.

All you can currently see is the real Fubuki Shirou. The good, the bad and the ugly; you're unable to discern a difference between them. He's always the same to you — ethereal and delicate like porcelain. He's the same man that ensnared you in his trap, whether he's aware of it or not.

You're a mouse captured, moments before your inevitable doom.

"I wish I could've died instead of him, sometimes." Fubuki muses with a half-smile and you tighten your hold on him, miffed.

"Well, I don't think that's what he would've wanted. Have you ever thought about the fact that he would want you to live on for the both of you?" You argue and, for the first time in a while, you force yourself to look at him. There's veins bulging out of your neck as you strain yourself to shout at him.

Fubuki blinks and his amusement is soon replaced with a pensive, thoughtful frown. He stares at the picture again, then redirects his attention to you. He dabs at his eyes, wiping away any tears threatening to spill. Afterwards, he opens the drawer next to his side of the bed and places the old photograph there, face down, before shutting it closed.

He lies back down, but this time he shows you his back rather than his face and then proceeds to pull the covers over his shoulders. "[Name], I don't say it a lot, but I really am sorry."

Your mind jumps to the worst-case scenario and your throat instantly closes up, an uncomfortable lump resting on your epiglottis. There's a pit in your stomach — an allegory for dread.

You struggle to find the words to properly express yourself, though you settle for a simple, "Sorry? What for?" You don't want to hear him say it out loud. A part of you hopes he backtracks like he always does, though something is different this time and not in a good way.

Don't say it. You plead to no avail. You know exactly what kind of storm is heading your way. You've known since the moment you first met him, but you chose to face it head-on. This is what resilience gets you: perpetual despair.

Fubuki, as if reading your mind and choosing to spite you once and for all, places the final nail in the coffin gently, with feather-like meticulousness. His last venture to destroy you, to utterly devastate and crush you, is delivered with a voice akin to that of a lullaby. "I'm sorry for everything."

The lights are off and then it's just static silence between the two of you, under the guise of sleeping or at least trying to.

There's a blizzard outside. The snow and rain pelts hard against the window in your shared bedroom and you can practically hear Fubuki's breath hitching in his throat. You sense him trembling slightly. He seeks no comfort and you don't attempt to give him any; two strangers stuck hostage on a cold bed, claiming they're in love.

Before you realize it, you're crying. The tears drip down and stain your cheeks, but you don't bother wiping them away. You let them flow freely because you fear that you'll be far too numb to bawl like this ever again in the near future. And if Fubuki hears you crying like a baby, he ignores it in favor of suppressing his guilt.

You seek no comfort, especially not his, and he doesn't attempt to give you any. Everything comes full circle when it regards the two of you.

Fubuki's sorry he can't love you the way you love him: devotedly, ardently, unconditionally. Try as he might, he can't bring himself to love anyone. Not anymore.

However, he's selfish and wants to have you remain by his side. He hates being alone — to the point it becomes unbearable. He doesn't think you'll forgive him and he simply can't forgive himself and his actions, either. Perhaps, if you were to despise him from the bottom of your heart, that'd be for the best.

It's better for things to remain this way. The Atsuya in his head agrees, too.

★

"Good morning, [Name]," Fubuki greets you cheerfully the moment you step foot into the kitchen. You're blinded by his smile, the one he uses to sweep truths and details under the rug when he divulges too much against his will.

You play along and return the gesture. It's your forte. You and Fubuki are constantly entangled in an intricate dance, treading on thin ice between lies and sincerity, between hiding and revealing.

How easy it is for the both of you to act like nothing ever happened yesterday is nothing short of disturbing, yet befitting.

You hug him and wrap your arms around his torso, his own reaching out to cradle your face in his cold fingers. His eyes are kind, but there's no sentimental depth when he gazes at you from up-close. You're his polar opposite.

You kiss him and though he's quick to react, you can still see the way his eyes visibly widen in shock before you forcibly close your own so as not to perceive any negative reactions he subtly expresses.

Fubuki's sad because he's consciously leading you on, purposefully, and this kiss is a manifesto of his greed and opportunism. The remorse brewing within him is repressed and kept at bay, determined to do everything in his power to keep you around for as long as possible.

You deepen the kiss and push him against the countertop. His back slams against the cups behind him and one of them falls down, breaking into pieces.

You separate from him, by reflex and definitely not by choice, and cringe. "Sorry. Didn't mean to act like a horndog." The embarrassment creeps in before you can stop it and you merely watch as Fubuki crouches down and begins to pick up each of the shards.

"You always worry too much about everything. I wonder if it's a chronical condition," Fubuki makes an astute observation and you're tempted to roll your eyes because you can hear the snark behind it, though you hold back.

You watch as he carefully holds the pieces and carries them over to the trashcan, blinking with a small smile.

You look down at the floor and notice he missed one. Whether it was done on purpose or not, you can't really tell. With Fubuki, it's always hard to distinguish. You pick it up, holding it between your fingers, and stare right back at your reflection. The likeness of you is distorted, off putting and jarring.

"It's kind of familiar." You begin with a clipped tone. Fubuki stares at you before squatting down in an attempt to figure out what you mean.

It's not like you to be vague, Fubuki thinks. He doesn't like it when you beat around the bush, nor does he appreciate having to guess where your trail of thought leads to. He likes you best when you speak your mind, brash and reckless as it may be. It's familiar, nostalgic, and it makes him homesick.

He follows your gaze and fixes his attention onto the stray piece. He can already see the small cut opening up on your skin after the glass accidentally grazed it. He just smiles; it's not his mess to clean. "What is?"

It reminds me of us, you want to say out loud, but your lips are sealed shut.

The blood from your wound smears against the piece. It doesn't even hurt.

When something is broken, you can always glue it back together. When it's people that are shattered, no amount of glue can be of use.

You didn't know it at the time, yet you tried to play hero with the naïve ambition of binding Fubuki back to reality and away from the tumultuous waters threatening to swallow him whole. Now, you're afflicted with the same cracks you first saw in Fubuki. You never knew self-destruction could be a contagious disease.

"Never mind. I was about to say something lame." You shake your head and proceed to wince from the sting, pretending it hurts. You turn to look at him, raising your hand up to him with pleading eyes. "Kiss my boo-boo to make it feel better?"

"I'll pass," Fubuki declines within a heartbeat, rocking to and fro on his heels. You huff at his flower boy persona.

★

That night, Fubuki wraps his arms around you and brings you close to him, his chin perching itself on top of your head. You, in turn to his sporadic display of affection, snuggle even further into his chest, desperately listening to the sound of his heart, which is surprisingly peaceful in comparison to other nights that fly by just like this.

He holds you tight and despite the soothing heat of his body and the slow, content breaths he lets out, you've never felt colder or more alone.

There's a storm brewing, but it's not outside. It's always been an invisible force between the two of you and only you can see how it will end. You pray that the end is not near, but each and every day you can sense it being your last.

★

The following morning, you see Fubuki holding that same picture of him and his brother.

It feels like heartbreak. You're left to helplessly watch him perish with the knowledge that there's nothing you can do for him.

You're just collateral damage.

#SORRY...#I know its pretty uncommon for ie x reader fanfics to be posted on the tumblr community #so im sorry for the jumpscare everyone #You can ignore this #this is more like a character study tho #fubuki shirou x reader #fubuki shirou #inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven x reader

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