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girls-alias · 4 months

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Dean's Dream P7

Title: Dean's Dream P7

Part 6

Words: 1,979

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader

TW: Sad.

Masterlist

Prompt:

Dean is captured by a Djinn and dreams of Y/N.

It's been a year now. A whole year of pain and false hope. Today's the anniversary and the feelings from waking up haven't changed. I still look for her and wonder where I had seen her for her to be in my dream. I think I hear her voice, I think I see her smile, I think I see her in the distance but it's never her. I can't count the tears I cried for her, the tears that fell for the woman and the life I had lost. There were no words available to me that could truly express my loss.

Sam had tried everything, I appreciated his help but there was no way to understand or help, he didn't get it. Yeah, he lost Jess but losing Y/N was different in my eyes. I only had her for a day before she was gone again, and yet she promised me perfection; it would have been easy to give me all she had promised.

Sam knew the anniversary today. The anniversary of the day I gained nothing but lost it all. I will admit, I lost the plot a little. I began looking for djinns just so they could take me back to her but Sam always stopped me or they were well hidden.

I groaned as Sam slammed his fist against my bedroom door. I rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. If there was ever a day that I should be left alone it was today, Sam didn't recognise that or if he did, he didn't care.

"Come on, Dean," He commented loudly as he walked in. I considered using the gun under my pillow. "I already moved your gun, come on. We're going out," He explained he knew what I was thinking. He sighed when I showed no indication of getting up. With a fast swipe, he pulled the blanket off me. I looked up at the ceiling, silently praying for the strength to deal with him today.

I sat up, groaning as I wiped my eyes. "Look, Sam. I'm not in the mood," I explained, anger lacing my tone even though I was trying to sound calm.

"I know but this could be good," He tried, he took a seat at the edge of my bed, looking at me hopefully. I rolled my eyes at his false hope. The stupid hope I had lost not too long ago. "So, you said the houses looked like they were in Salt Lake. I know we've already looked but what if she's looking today as well. She might be looking for you too," I wanted to hope. A month ago, I would already be on those streets searching for her but today, I knew it was a waste of time. I had made her up, she wasn't real.

Y/N'S POV:

"Dean!" I tried to scream but a tube down my throat stopped me. I choked on it slightly. My eyes quickly wandered around the room. Where's Dean?!

I quickly learned I had been in a coma for nearly 3 months. Doctors didn't expect me to wake, I showed no signs of waking but I knew it was because of Dean. I had asked nurses where he was, asking when he was coming back but they explained sadly that I had no visitors. Really no one? When I was a little more stable, a kind doctor explained that I was brought in for a car crash, my family were in the car but I was the only survivor. He asked if I remembered the crash but I can't remember anything before Dean. I don't remember being young, I don't remember who I was, in my mind, I was Dean's and he was mine.

Therapists took an interest in my case as they all seemed to want to examine my brain. They all explained that dream comas were common but the fact I believed it so deeply and couldn't remember anything before it made my case even more appealing to them. They would try and coax new answers out of me, each week asking if I had remembered anything new, each time growing a little more frustrated that my memory made no improvement but I was fine with that, my whole being believing Dean and my time with him wasn't a dream.

"Oh, I won't make it to my next session," I explained nonchalantly as I gathered my bag and stood from my chair. My therapist, Noah, looked at me confused. I smiled at the thought. "I'm going to Salt Lake City to find Dean," I explained but his eyes showed sorrow. His smile faded and tightened into a thin line.

"Y/N, I don't want to upset you but you've already looked, it was just a dream," He reminded me though I'd never be able to forget his opinion as he says it multiple times in one session. I rolled my eyes.

"I already bought the coach tickets and I have it planned out this time," I explained but his unimpressed expression told me he doesn't believe me. I sighed, pulling the map from my pocket. I opened it, flattening it on his coffee table. "I start here," Pointing to the coach station. "I'll walk up to the house we had, stay there for about an hour, walk to Sam's house, this way and then get coffee from his favourite cafe and stay local until my coach leaves," I explained, often following the route I would walk with my finger. He looked between me and the map unconvinced. I rolled my eyes again. "It's been a whole year if he's going there to look for me, it'll be today,"

Dean's POV:

I groaned sitting back in my seat as Sam drove us to Salt Lake City. A part of me wondered if I actually would see her but I fear getting my hopes up because it will only hurt more.

Y/N'S POV:

I stepped off the coach with a wide smile, holding my backpack straps as I looked around hopefully. Please be here!

I started my walk to the house. Music played through my earphones as I walked, smiling happily at everyone I passed, once I made it to the neighbourhood I smiled even wider. I looked at the house, the dream. I sighed, a little disheartened he wasn't already waiting for me. I took a deep breath, strutted over to the house and took a seat on the curb, I took my earphones out so I could listen out for him calling my name. My attention turned to my book to pass the time but I could barely focus. Any noise and I was looking around for him. I wonder if he'll look different. I wonder if he smells different. I can't lose hope.

Dean's POV:

As we drove the streets that felt familiar and heartbreaking, I found myself looking around for her. I shouldn't have got my hopes up but Sam's right. If she's looking for me, it will be today.

The houses began feeling more and more familiar, and recognising them only made me gasp. "Turn left," I instructed eagerly.

Y/N'S POV:

I had been sitting on the curb, coming up to two hours now, I was getting anxious not seeing him but plastered a smile on my face. I started the walk to Sam's house. Following the route, we had driven a year ago.

Dean's POV:

"Stop, stop," I opened the door before he even stopped. I rushed up the path and porch steps knocking quickly. I found it! I found the house. I waited impatiently before a man answered the door looking at me confused. I looked at him slightly confused as I expected Y/N, my beautiful Y/N. "Sorry, doesn't Y/N live here?" I asked, looking past his shoulder slightly.

"No, I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong house," He explained. I sighed.

"Thanks anyway," I turned back, walking back as Sam stood, door open looking over the car. He looked at me hopefully but I shook my head. I climbed in resting my head on the headrest. Sam got back in, apologising for my heart breaking another time.

"We'll wait here, maybe she'll think the same thing," Sam said hopefully. I ignored him as I rested my head on the side, mindlessly looking out the window, a tear falling from my eyes with ease.

Y/N'S POV:

I made it to Sam's house surprised. The house had been pulled down to make room for a kid's park that was still in construction. I sighed continuing on to Dean's favourite cafe. It was a long shot he would remember it but it's still something.

I made it in, ordering myself a drink before taking a seat at a table. All my plans felt like a waste of time. Maybe Noah and everyone else was right. Maybe I truly did dream of him. Maybe I was making myself crazy by believing it. I put my headphones in, resting my cheek on my palm as I practically sulked while reading. My heartbreak echoed through the air. I wiped the tears as they fell. All hope faded to nothingness.

Dean's POV:

I reluctantly guided Sam to the house he had lived at. Finding it was a park under construction only hurt my heart more.

"Let's just get some coffee and have a think about it," He suggested but I just want to go home.

We parked up, finding a coffee shop further down the street. I sighed, heading straight for the tables as Sam went to the counter to order our drinks. I took a seat, noticing the seat behind me was unoccupied but a book and backpack saved the seat. I sighed, resting my head in my crossed arms as I waited for Sam.

Y/N'S POV:

I got back to my seat, barely paying attention to anything around me. I moved my backpack onto the table, carefully climbing into my seat as a troubleman took a seat behind my chair. I sat, my headphones returning to my ears as I resumed my position, reading with my cheek on my palm.

Dean's POV:

Sam came over, drinks in hand as he took a seat opposite me. I drank hastily. I just want to leave. Sam began brainstorming things we could do to look for her. I sighed, resting my chin on my palm as I rolled my eyes. I don't have the strength in me anymore.

THIRD PERSON POV:

Y/N checked her watch. Sighing a final time, she rose from her seat, gathering her things and leaving the table.

"I need the bathroom," Dean instructed, getting up from his seat. She looked down at her phone as she changed the song on her playlist, a song full of rage playing through them as she felt numb, the heartbreak can only hurt so much before you feel nothing.

Though expected they did not see each other. It seemed to have been timed imperfectly. If she had waited one moment later or if he had got up one second earlier they would have bumped into each other. Yet she still walked out of the cafe and he still went to the bathroom. Neither knew their true love was behind them and neither knew their breaking hearts could have been healed with one second. One second either of them could have changed to meet but neither knew, and neither would know. She still got on her coach, and he still drove home. Both believed the dream was fake and both left, their heart empty and souls crushed.

If they knew how close they were to having the reunion, it would only hurt them more. Both lost hope, neither looking for each other again. The emptiness never fades and pain never heals. He owned her heart and she his, forever.

Masterlist

Part 8

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean #dean winchester heartbreak #heartbreak #heartache #soulmates #soul crushing

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sukunasdirtylaugh · 5 months

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tags: ghost!gojo x f!reader, post manga, alternative au where the worst but not the worst happens, reader has a slight fear of cats, reader is an art therapist for satoru's nephew, loosley inspired by "would that I" by hozier <3 a/n: this is untitled, but if people like it, I'd love to write another piece. I've had this idea for several weeks now, so I'm glad to have written something out of it. this piece is just self-indulgent and it feels like a prologue to something if that makes sense. part 2

You don't think you've ever known peace like this, the cool fall breeze causing your hair to gently brush over your shoulders while the leaves rustle, from a distance, the wind chimes ring with no rush, no sense of time seemingly passes in the air.

"you should probably head inside Hotaru, it's cold," you sweetly tell the five-year-old in front of you, adjusting his hat so that his ears are covered from the breeze. it was nearly 6, dinnertime, and your tutoring hours with the gojo clan member were now over.

his nanny watches you from the distance as she holds the door, opening it slightly so that the boy knows his time with you is over, but you can't help but to feel thankful she has given you an extra moment with the boy.

"why don't wanna eat with us?" he asks, and the pout on his lips is nearly enough to break your heart.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," you cup his cheek, "but only your family gets to eat dinner. I have my own home to get to too, but I promise when I come back we can have that picnic I promised you, yes?"

"only if you promise to bring your teddy with mine," he sniffles, and you want to smile at his negotiation skills, but the sniffles he makes reminds you once again how sensitive the boy was to the cold.

"alright, fine," you give him a warm smile, ushering him to walk towards the door that stands several feet away. "go, your nanny is waiting for you." and he nods, a small smile planted on his lips before his lips touch your cheek, his rosy, red nose coldly touches your cheek, prompting you to smile.

"bye bye, miss honey," he says, a name he's grown fond of calling you.

"bye bye, sunshine." a name you've warmed to call the child.

the boy then hurries off to his nanny, he excitedly pulls a leaf from the inside of his sweater, and you smile, remembering how you told him it was possible to trace a leaf (just like his hand in the shape of a turkey), and with excitement, the boy disappears into the house, following his nanny.

no more than 3 minutes pass before the woman, whom you guess is in her early 50's, approaches you. her grey hairs begin to reach the tips of her ears, and the wrinkles around her eyes adjust as she smiles, carrying a mug. you wonder if you'll be lucky to have wrinkles like that one day.

"he seemed excited," she muses, sitting next to you, handing you the mug.

"thank you,''

"he says you taught him how to draw a turkey using his hand. I've never seen a boy that excited since-"

"...since?" you politley whisper, catching her pause.

"nevermind," she smiles at you. "he just reminds me of a boy I used to babysit years ago, his uncle."

"oh,"

she nods, "you're welcome to stay here for the night if you'd like. I hear it might rain,"

"it's only a 50% chance, so I think I'll be fine." you chuckle nervously, "but thank you. can I... can I stay here? just for a few more minutes?"

hotaru's nanny looks beyond the garden, a nearby tree that you would always read under with hotaru tucked to your side makes her smile weakly. "of course, she says, take your time. let me know if you'll be staying with us for the night, it's never too late if you do." and in a moment, she gracefully bids you goodbye before heading in, leaving you alone in the garden.

you sigh, taking in a sip of the warm chamomile tea she brought you. the gojo clan was always a mystery to you, but working here for nearly 5 months definitely confirmed that the gojo's were always hiding something. it was just that you weren't a curse user, just a girl with above average matrilineal intuition.

there was always something special about hotaru, you realized instantly after meeting him that he carried a certain 'aura' to him. you tried to justify if with the fact that his family concealed his exposure to the world, but when hotaru would murmur soft words as he colored, or drew a picture of a man with white hair holding his hand (both smiling), you asked him who is that?

's my uncle, the boy told you, he comes visit me when no one's around.

there. that seemed to be the missing piece all along. not the fact that hotaru's mother was too sick to see her son, or the fact that his dad was always out for meetings, it was that the boy was connected to a family member that long passed.

so you let it go, not making a big deal out of it even though your brain itched to know more. does he see him? what does he tell him? is he safe? you wondered to yourself that day, but you would later find out that yes, he does see him and yes, he is safe. the boy does as much to tell you nearly everything he knows, and for that you are grateful to have his trust.

"my uncle says I should play with other kids, instead," he tells you one day, "papa says no, but I tell (uncle) that I have you,"

"oh, and what does he say?"

"nothing," the boy answers simply.

"does he... what does he think of me?"

"he just says to do a good job around you. says coloring is fun,''

you hum, nodding in thought. for the last month, hotaru was slightly more distracted. although he was doing a tremendous job in your art sessions, as his art therapist you couldn't help but wonder if his occasional absent mindedness had anything to do with the presence of his uncle.

but tonight, everything felt different.

"I can feel you're around," you say, loud enough for the trees to hear, but quiet enough to not cause any commotion. "you've been watching us for some time, and I know it." setting your cup of tea down, you focus your gaze on the tree, as if something were there. but that didn't feel quite right. something in the energy was not quite right.

to your left, you suddenly jump from your seat as a white cat passes by your feet, and you nearly shriek, startled. you weren't exactly fond of cats, but you didn't despise them. if you could always avoid them, you would, but being around them slightly made you self-conscious as you were scratched by one when you were younger, forming a mistrust around them.

with a slight huff and nod to yourself, you call it a night, standing up and leaving behind the mug of tea. from a distance, satoru watches as you make your way past the gates of the garden and he half snickers, half watches you in interest before the white cat slowly circles him. "aw, you scared her, didn't you mochi?"

the cat meows lazily, moments before yawning and taking a seat next to satoru who watches you from the same tree he also sat in when you read to hotaru.

#gojo #satoru #maybe I'll delete this later?#gojo satoru x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #gojo headcanons #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jjk x reader #hozier does it again thank you my king for the inspo

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bladesmitten · 3 months

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(anon about Wyll getting hells-tormented and transformed in front of everyone) I'm just going insane about him and think I misremembered his first dialogue after the scene a little dkjsk (got mixed up with another backstory line perhaps? about how he doesn't regret the pact and would do it again? or another one maybe it's been a minute since I played :((( ) BUT STILL

just!!! Mizora keeps dishing out torments and he keeps taking it and keeping up his brave heroic face!! and he keeps trying to be as good as possible no matter the sacrifice and augh my heart HE WAS WILLING TO GET KILLED!!!!

and everyone in camp just watching that happen like.. that's Quite A Moment for him to go through right in front of a bunch of people he's only known for (usually) a handful of days at most? and Karlach is right there realizing he was 100% willing to get killed by his patron for her to live! and everyone else in camp is also witnessing all of this!

it's kind of an insane thing to meet a guy and go "oh he's cool and hot and has the tadpole he can come with :)" and then find out the "devil" he's hunting is actually another tadpole buddy and then shortly after that you watch his patron torture and transform him in the middle of your camp and he gets back up and keeps going!! and you're standing there like,,,,, your man just got marinated in all the hells at once,,

and you can talk to him afterwards and reassure him and all but listen. listen.. I just think people who talk about Karlach or a tiefling Tav (or the grove tieflings? do they talk about the grove tieflings?) helping him out with horn care are onto something I think he could use a little more... is the word 'aftercare'? just wouldn't his skin and muscles hurt after all that... what if he needs a little massage :( a gentle head rub :( he needs to go to a spa in Baldur's Gate (and it goes without saying that he (and every one of the tadfools yes but this ain't about them) could use a good therapist)

(technically Mizora was "within her rights" to give him whatever punishment wherever she felt like it but she should also consider dying a thousand deaths and letting him have nice things and leaving him alone forever) (I'm taking him away from her and holding his hands tenderly and– ahem)

...hmm that was more words than I meant to,, I was trying to be hinged and levelheaded in the first ask but then I thought about him more and that just... it happens when you've known him for a couple of DAYS... idk thinking about it made me go feral a little. hope you have a good one I love seeing you on the dash btw <3

no i get it LMFAO wyll's rotating around in my head 24/7 like a perpetual microwave

it really is kinda crazy to think about all that happening, esp if you also recruit karlach on the same day you meet him 😭 you've known him for less than 24 hours at that point and he just up and makes a huge sacrifice in the name of doing the right thing. just another tuesday for the blade methinks! (also, obsessed with the wording on that - "marinated in the hells" 😭)

honestly, no wonder wyll sulks at the beach during the tiefling party. he has had no time to process everything that's happened - from hunting karlach in avernus, to getting tadpoled, the nautiloid crashing, saving the druid grove from goblins, helping the tiefling refugees, sparing the person you swore to kill, getting transformed into a devil, infiltrating the goblin camp, killing the three goblin leaders, rescuing halsin only to find out they have to go to moonrise towers anyway. all in - what? a week or two? not to mention he has a mindflayer parasite, the threat of mindflayer transformation looming over everyone in camp.

so the one time the party finally has time for rest and relaxation and celebration - that's the time it all hits wyll. he's permanently changed. because he did the right thing. he can't bring himself to celebrate despite all the good he's done. will the people still trust him to protect them? or will they only see a devil?

and AAGGHHH there really should've been more [tiefling] dialogue for wyll... comforting him... giving him advice on horn care... or even as a flirt option to just offer to take care of it for him. yknow. he deserves it and more!!

#ask #Anonymous #i think a lot more people should be unhinged and feral about wyll. in the good way obviously

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ornii · 1 year

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Bitterly Beautiful, Part 2

Chapter 2: There is no “Eye” in Team.

"How could you miss a dead body?"

Wednesday, the Sherrif and Principal Weems walk though the school to her office.

"'Cause it wasn't there. No footprints, no blood, no sign of a struggle. Nothing, nada. My search party looked all night." The Sheriff kept his composure, as annoyed and upset he is.

"Well, your search party must have left their seeing-eye dogs at home. I saw that monster kill Rowan right in front of me." Wednesday claims.

"Get a good look at this monster thing?"

"It didn't stick around for a chat."

"Maybe it was one of your classmates." The Sherrif said accusingly, which Principal Weems interfered in.

"Sheriff, I find that question offensive."

"I don't care, 'cause I got three other dead bodies in the morgue. Hikers just ripped apart in the woods."

"The mayor said those were bear attacks." Weems furrows her brow at the Sheriff who is unfazed by her upset nature.

"Well, the mayor and I disagree on that."

"So you automatically assume a Nevermore student is the murderer, even though there's no evidence a crime was even committed."

"I'm sorry. I forgot, you only teach the good outcasts here, right?" The Sheriff scowls at Weems, they enter her office finally and The Sherrif sits across from Weems and her desk, which she promptly sits at as well.

"My guess is Rowan ran away. State troopers have put out an alert, and I've contacted his family, but they haven't heard from him either." Weems explains.

"Dead people are notoriously bad at returning calls." Wednesday's prompt but cold demeanor stood firm in her belief.

"What were you doing out in the woods with him, Ms. Addams?" The Sheriff asked, "I heard a noise in the forest and went to go investigate. That's when I stumbled upon the attack."

"Then what happened?"

"Then I ran into Bianca Barclay, and I told her to go for help. Next thing I remember, I was awaking in my dorm."

"And just to be clear, this monster wasn't a bear or some other wild animal?"

"I've hibernated with grizzlies. I know the difference." Wednesda replies, and Weems gets noticeably, uncouth as she tries to lee up appearances.

"Thank you, Sheriff. I think Miss Addams is done now—"

"Actually, I would like to speak to Sheriff Galpin. Alone." Wednesday said, and there was an unnerving aura around it.

"I'm not sure I can allow that." Weems begins but the Sheriff, catching onto what Wednesday is doing, adds in.

"I'm sure I could take her to the station and get a formal statement. Yeah, let's go." He begins but weems quickly stops.

"Fine. You have five minutes, and everything is off the record. Play nice... or I will call the mayor" Weems leaves them to their lonesome to discuss.

"Someone is trying to cover up Rowan's murder. That's the only reason to scrub the crime scene."

"Is that your professional opinion as the daughter of a murderer?"

"My father's twice the man you are, and the only thing he murders is the occasional opera in the shower."

"It's been a long night. I'm tired of your games. I'm not playing games."

"I'm telling the truth. You want to reject my claims but you can't. Why is that? Because you and I both know there's a monster out there. And Rowan is his latest victim." Wednesday said, her cold dark eyes staring into the eyes of the Sheriff. Suddenly, the deputy of the Sherrif steps into the office, a heavyset woman with a chocolate dark skin tone.

"Sheriff?"

"What?"

"You're gonna want to see this." she says; and seemingly from the land of the Dead, Rowan appeared. Leaving even Wednesday herself puzzled and confused.

"Edgar Allan Poe said, "Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see." Clearly Nevermore's most famous alumni picked that up here. No wonder he became a drսg madman."

"Help me understand why you claim you witnessed a murder. Was it to gain attention?"

Kinbott, Wednesdays scheduled therapist sits across from the child of the Addams, a bit perplexed by her oddity.

"Why should I bother telling you anything? You've already decided I'm lying. I know what I saw."

"Your life's had a lot of upheaval recently. It's okay to be confused about things."

"Don't try and lure me into one of your psychological traps."

"No one is trying to trap you. I'm here to help you process your emotions. Emotions are a gateway trait. They lead to feelings, which trigger tears." Kimbott attempts to try to slightly pry open the iron vice of Wednesday's feelings, but they were rusted; snapped shut and cold.

"I don't do tears."

"Tell me how you're adjusting to school."

"Sartre said, "Hell is other people." He was my first crush."

"Wednesday, Part of the reason your parents sent you to Nevermore is so you could find your people. Become part of a larger community."

"I like being an island. A well-fortified one surrounded by sharks."

"Have you considered your antisocial tendencies might be motivated by fear of rejection?" She asks.

"If you were to reject me, I would not be upset." Wednesday said. And Kinbott thought for a moment.

"Ah, so there's no one at the school you'd hate to be rejected by?" She asks, and just for a moment there was a hint of hesitation by Wednesday.

"None at all." She replies, deadpanned.

"Well...You can't get rid of me that easily. And look, you made it through an entire session without trying to escape. I'll take that as a win." Kinbott replies, and Wednesday notices that she has been here her entire session, she leaves after her realization and heads back to Nevermore, She returns back to to see her "Friend." Enid and classmates working on board.

"Ladies, come on! Let's work on those teeth. More scowl. This kitty is taking no prisoners. If Bianca Barclay wins again this year, I will literally scratch my own eyes out!"

"I would pay money to see that." Wednesday said, Enid turns around all cheerful and ready to hug.

"Howdy, roomie! I'm so glad you decided to stay."

"I thought you wanted your single room back.”

“Full disclose, I hate going solo, and thing gives a killer neck massage, so I say it’s a win win, why did you stay?” Enid said, and Wednesday calmly looks off to the distance.

"I refuse to play the role of a pawn in someone else's corrupt game."

"You mean Rowan?"

"I witnessed his murder, Enid." Wednesday claims.

"It's just, we all saw him this morning. Very much, like, not dead."

"I know. Which leads me to believe I've been losing my mind. It's not nearly as fun as I had anticipated. You're Nevermore's gossip queen. What's Rowan's story?" Wednesday asks, and Enid thinks.

"Other than being a weird loner... Uh... No offense. None taken. Xavier Thorpe's his roommate, but due to "Safety Concerns", (Y/n) had to move in, If you had a cell phone, you could just text him and ask him. Yoko. Come on! Flare those whiskers! The Poe Cup droops for no one."

"What is the Poe Cup anyway?"

"My entire reason for living right now. Part canoe race, part foot chase, no rules. Each dorm has to pick an Edgar Allan Poe short story for inspiration. You could grab a brush. Ms. Thornhill's just ordered pizza. Want to take a stab at being social?" Enid asks, trying to invite Wednesday over.

"..I do like stabbing. The social part, not so much. Besides, it'll cut into my writing time."

“No worries. Just as long as you're lakeside cheering us to victory on race day…Or you can just glare uncomfortably. Whatever works for you.” Enid said trying to as supportive as usual, Wednesday takes this free time to head to Principal Weems, ready for another interrogation.

"I need to speak with Rowan. I can't find him."

"It won't be possible, I'm afraid. He's been expelled."

"For what?"

"Never you mind. He'll be on the first train out this afternoon. What were you doing out in the woods with him?"

"I told you already. I heard a noise, and I went to investigate." Wednesday said feigning innocence.

"That excuse might have placated the sheriff, but you can't fool me. You had a psychic vision, didn't you? I realized you might be having them when we passed by the accident and you knew that poor farmer had broken his neck. Your mother started having visions around your age. They were notoriously unreliable and dangerous. I remember at first, she thought she might be losing her mind. Have you spoken to her about them? Clearly the person withholding information here is you." Weems said, putting Miss Addams in a verbal checkmate.

"May I go now?"

"Not until you've picked your extracurricular activity. We want our students to be well-rounded."

"I'd prefer to remain sharp-edged." Wednesday stabs back.

"I took the liberty of putting together a list of clubs that have openings." Weems shows a list of classes, one specifically "Archery - (Y/n) Healy"

"How thoughtful." Wednesday replies.

"You need to have picked one by the end of the day. I'll be keeping my eye on you. No doubt you'll find something that tickles your fancy."

"The last person who tickled me lost a finger." Wednesday kept her scowl and left. Her first destination was Chior lead by the Queen Bee, and she hears them harmonizing. They stop at the arrival of Wednesday.

"Weems said you'd be stopping by. But to be honest, after your performance at the Harvest Festival, drama club might be more your speed." Bianca said, smirking so coyly,

"After I passed out, who did you tell? The sheriff?"

"You think I'd trust normie cops? I went straight to Weems and let her handle it. Anyway, let's get this audition over with. What are you? Alto, soprano or just loco?" she asks obviously as a dig, a few laugh and Wednesday opens her mouth. There was oddly no sound. Well no sound a human could hear, but ones glasses cracked.

"What was that?" Bianca asked,

"A note only dogs can hear." she replies, and Walks off, leaving them a bit perplexed.

Wednesday's next and most important Task was Archery, she approached the Range as (Y/n) stood there, with a basket of apples which were signed and picked by Enid, he drew the Bow and notched an arrow from his Quiver and aimed. As if he was waiting for something. Let's the arrow loose and it hits nearly dead on. He turns to face Wednesday, hearing her approach.

"If it isn't Wednesday Addams, so you're joining the League of Handsome and or Beautiful rouges? I shall be your teacher." He says, and she looks around.

"You're the only one?" She asks.

"Unfortunately Yes, The Team disbanded before you arrived, Me, Xavier, Jenna, Emma, and Hunter." He said, he aims another arrow.

"I'm curious, What made your Band of Merry Outcasts fall apart? Xavier?" She asks and he lets another arrow loose, abruptly and misses. For a moment she sees a scowl and he quickly masks his emotions with a fake smile.

"Ever shot a bow and arrow before?" Hd asks, "Only on live targets." She replies and he scoffs. He begins his instruction.

"From you? I can believe it, alright first things first, wide stance for your legs, good balance stance." He says, he notches the arrow to the string. "notch the Arrow, take aim, don't shoot immediately, calm yourself." He says, "But in my case..." he whistled loudly, and he lets loose another arrow hitting inches away from the bullseye. Fairly proud of himself, he turns to her direction.

"Any questions?" He asks, "I know the blind part is confusing—"

"When's the last time you saw your Rowan?"

(Y/n) frowns a bit hearing that.

"Well I wouldn’t say “Saw”, You mean the one that was "killed" by a monster?" He said sarcastically.

"You were there."

"Yeah, and I talked to Rowan this morning... either i sensed a body that was similar, or he's a Zombie, and since he isn't smelling like rotting flesh, I'm gonna say we just got it wrong." (Y/n) says, he thinks for a moment.

"But..He did seem.. off."

"Off How?" Wednesday asked.

"Rowan was a bit of a loner but he and I got along as, Well as well as most students. We said hello to each other at least but this time he was just, much more nervous that before to even speak to me." He said, he shakes his head... “So, my turn..So what's the deal with you and Tyler?" He asks, Wednesdays attitude shifts from the question as (Y/n) now pesters her.

"I answered your questions, only fair you answer mine." He says.

"He was doing me a favor driving me out of town." Wednesday replied a bit defensive.

"I have advice for you, Steer clear of Tyler." He said.

"Why? Because he's a normie?"

"That, and his Dad seemingly has the biggest hate boner for your family,." (Y/n) says, he reaches to a small basket to eat an apple. Wednesday takes it and the bow and arrow, she tosses the apple, aims and fires, hitting the apple and a bullseye. (Y/n) was a bit flabbergasted, he could feel it land dead on.

"That is... impressive."

"I'm not here to impress." She says and begins to walk off, (Y/n) walks after her, as he quickly grabs his cane.

"Wednesday.. Wednesday!" He says and she stops for a moment.

"I'm busy, I have to go to deal with the trials of Hell Weems is putting me though." She begins to walk again and he stops.

"Well. That's unfortunate since I have a good way to keep you under the radar." He says and she stops walking, "A Way to keep Weems off your hide and gives you time to, do whatever you plan to do." He says, she turns around and walks over to him so calmly, she steps a foot away, while (Y/n) couldn't see, his senses were heightened so well, almost like a sonar the sound waves bounce and dance around him like waves crashing, forming almost perfect shapes and forms; He has never been this close to Wednesday to allow him to get such a detailed idea of her, and for a moment he was taken aback by just how beautiful she is. Her face was in a permanent form of unamused glare. And she couldn’t be any more drop dead beautiful.

".. Stunning." He said, just Gazing at her face. "What Plan do you have?" She asks snapping him out of it, he catches himself before acting more suave.

"Of course, well you see most Clubs are in the schools grounds, but there's one that's into the greenery. A perfect place to hide out." He said, which slowly begins to build the interest of Wednesday.

"...Show Me."

(Y/n) and Wednesday walk though a small forest to a beautiful clearing, and noticing a flat there. It was a small white building with not much accommodation. (Y/n) leans over to slightly whisper to Wednesday.

"Word of Advice Miss Addams, Eugene is a bit.. unique, even for Nevermore standards." He said, Wednesday turns her head to him. "Just try not to Gut him or anything." He says asking.

"I will make no such promises."

"I guess that's the best I'll get." He said and taps on the door. He steps back and it opens to a short, slightly pudgy boy with a pair of glasses.

"(Y/n)!” He says with whimsical cheer.

“It’s good to see you too, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Wednesday. Wednesday Addams.” He says introducing the two. “Am I late or is it only you?” She asks and Eugene sadly nods.

"The hive life isn't for everyone." Eugene said and a sly (Y/n) smiles.

"Told you, it's perfect for you." (Y/n) said to Wednesday.

"Most kids are afraid of venomous insects. Are you willing to feel the sting?" Eugene asked, and a very small smile creeps along the face of Wednesday, even (Y/n) was a tiny bit worried for the Health of Nevermore if Wednesday could get an army of bees.

"You'll have to change into a Beekeeper uniform, there's plenty to choose from!" He says, Wednesday, now a bit annoyed since she can't allow them to touch her skin, heads inside to change.

"Well I suppose my work here is done. Eugene, make sure you keep an eye out for her." He says, and Eugene salutes.

"Hey, anything for a fellow friend!" He says and (Y/n) kindly bows and leaves, Planning what's next in his mind, Wednesdays exits the Room now in her own, off putting Bee Keeper costume.

"Bees have been producing honey in the same way for 150 million years. They're nature's perfect community. All working together to achieve a common goal. Fun fact, it's also one of the few ecosystems in which females dominate. From the queen bee to her workers. There's no patriarchy in the hive!" he says explaining to her, but Wednesday is, less than enthusiastic about the honey and more about the Stinging. (Y/n) walks off and a crow lands on his shoulder.

"Any word about the Sheriff?" He asks and it makes a few caws and pecks its side to scratch an itch.

"Hmm... I See. Thank you, you may go now." He says and the bird flies off, he trudged off into the woods as well, walking so cautiously, until footsteps catch him. He jerks his head left to sense the pattering of paws, hound paws, he kneels down quickly and puts his hand on the tree he's hiding behind. Small, tiny vibrations in the earth from their footsteps, they give small indications of their location and possibly who they are.

"There you are, Sheriff." He says and slowly begins to follow, he keeps a fair distance to avoid any scent being picked up by the hound. His solemn footsteps crunch twigs and leaves, but are much lighter in sound. Creeping closer; he stops and feels another tree, using its roots to enhance his hearing. He picks up the same footsteps, but another one, lighter on their feet. Not as Heavy. And he suspects his new "friend." Sneaking around he picks up on movement, and heads that way, it was Wednesday. Seems she was also following the Sheriff but was creeping too close, before the hound could pick up, Wednesday is snatched behind a tree, she tenses up, a hand covering her mouth and slightly around her stomach. As the Sheriff passes, they let her go, she quickly gets away and turns around to (Y/n).

"I didn't want the Dog to pick up on your scent. If he finds us here, well it won't be good." He says.

"Thanks." Wednesday said, as much as she detests being grabbed and held, she detested (Y/n) doing it, a bit less. "How'd you throw them off?"

"Crow feathers, rubbing them on me... don't look at me like that. It works okay?" He says a bit annoyed.

"I assume he didn't bring the bloodhound to play fetch." Wednesday said.

"No, I assume he's checking the leads as well... But I want to ask you. And be honest, what happened At the festival?" (Y/n) asked, looking obviously concerned.

"I thought Rowan was in danger. Turns out I was wrong. Then he proceeded to use his telekinesis to try and choke me to death. That's when this monster came out of the shadows and gutted him." Wednesday explains, much to (Y/n)'a shock.

"Rowan? Tried to Kill you? It wasn't the monster that tried to kill you?"

"It actually saved me from Rowan. That's the part I'm trying to figure out. I came here to find something that can prove he was murdered and that I haven't lost my mind. Yet." Wednesday said, (Y/n) looks more serious now.

"Rowans never used this powers on others as far as I know, what would drive him to go after you of all people?" He asks, thinking. Wednesday peers past him and into the ground and looks at something. (Y/n) walks over and kneels down to see Wednesday picking something up.

"Those are Rowan's glasses." (Y/n) says, Suddenly, Wednesday's head jerks up, stiffening like a corpse. She was stunned, not moving. He looks over, growing much more concerned.

"Wednesday? Wednesday?!" He yells, he grabs her, checking her for some wounds or cuts. She snaps out of it, and looks at him, she sees the concern in his face.

"You okay?" He said, shaking her. Wednesday snaps out of it, she looks a bit out of it before realizing that, she's being held, she sees (Y/n), worried about her and her off spasm. She quickly puts her walls back up and glares at him.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." She said with the most scathing whisper, and he does.

"I was just making sure you were okay." He said, and Wednesday and (Y/n) stand up.

"There's some place I want to go to." She said, and Wednesday and (Y/n) continue their investigation inside the library. Thing is searching the bookshelf for Wednesday as (Y/n)

"The cover was darker. More like a day-old contusion. Keep looking." Wednesday said, (Y/n) walked up next to her.

"So, what is it that you're looking for specifically?" He said.

"A book Rowan had, it has some importance and I just need to figure out what." She explains, (Y/n) folds his arms.

"Rowan, and books? A match made In heaven, he was a book worm. It might have still been in his room with Xander we can—" he begins but they hear footsteps, the two quickly get Thing out of the way and (Y/n) and Wednesday were just standing there. Thornhill looks at the Blooming Dark flowers and smiles.

"I don't usually find students in here looking for actual books. Most sneak in to make out." She says, (Y/n) and Wednesday take a step further apart.

"That is not what's going on." He said.

"I'd rather take a nap in a swamp of famished alligators." She says, he looks at her.

"Okay that was Just mean." He said.

"I accidentally walked in on two vampires fanging. I can't unsee that." Wednesday claimed.

"That just sounds like Jealousy." (Y/n) replies, Wednesday turns her head menacingly towards him, a tiny smirk creeps along his face.

"Is there something I can help you two find?" Thornhill asks the Teenagers. Wednesday approaches with a ripped out page, "Have you seen this before?" She says showing her. "It's a watermark from a book I'm looking for."

"I think it's the symbol to an old student society. Um... The Nightshades."

"Like the deadly flower." Wednesday says, "Color me intrigued." (Y/n) approaches, and thinks.

"I was told they disbanded years ago." Thornhill said, which (Y/n) pesters her for information.

"Any idea why?" (Y/n) asks piping up.

"Sorry. I was very impressed with your answers in class today."

"My mother is a carnivorous plant aficionado. I assume I get my red thumb from her."

"Are you and your mother close?" Thornhill asks. There's a hint of hesitation within her voice.

"Like two inmates sentenced to life on the same cell block."

"I know it can't be easy... showing up mid-semester. I've been here a year and a half, and I still feel like an outsider."

"Because you're the only normie on the staff? (Y/n) told me." She says. "Not all normies are bad, You're pretty Great Mrs Thornhill." He Said trying to cheer her up, she just gives a smile in return.

"To tell you the truth, I've never really fit in anywhere. Too odd for the normies, not odd enough for the outcasts. I thought Nevermore would be different, but there's still a handful of teachers who will barely acknowledge me." She says,

"I act as if I don't care if people dislike me. Deep down... I secretly enjoy it." Wednesday said, and Thornhill laughed, she, actually laughed at that.

"Never lose that, Wednesday."

"Lose what?" The ability to not let others define you. It's a gift. The most interesting plants grow in the shade. And if you ever need anyone to talk to, the door to the conservatory is always open. That goes to you too Mister Healy." She says before leaving.

".. you know, she kinda reminds me of you." He says, watching Thornhill leave.

Night creeps along the horizon of the Earth and Nevermore is put into another darkness, (Y/n) was sitting in his new dorm room, cleaning his cane using black wood polish at his desk, the door opens to Xavier.

"Yo." He says, and (Y/n) looks up, hearing his voice.

"Sup Xavier."

"Taking a shower, Uh..let me know if you need anything." He says.

"Thanks." (Y/n) replies sharply before Xavier enters the shower, (Y/n) waits to hear it running before he walks over to the closet and knocks on it in a sophisticated series of taps. He steps back and Wednesday exits it with thing in tow.

"Well, that's not weird, anyway he should be busy I might have fiddled with the handles, let's get looking." He said.

"That purple book has got to be around here somewhere. Start investigating." She says to thing and the two begin to search, (Y/n) checking the walls and drawers for anything, Wednesday for the things that require a, "Cautious eye." She turns the lights off, which doesn't hinder (Y/n)'s search, using a Blacklight, she checks the floorboards and opens one up, (Y/n) turns to the sound and lifts the bed for her, she looks up at him and he smiles. She pries open the floor board and picks something up. It wasn't a book but, a mask.

"Huh... isn't that odd." He says; they hear the water stop and Xavier exits the shower, he looks over to (Y/n) standing there with his arms crossed. Wednesday is behind him, trying to stand as still as possible.

"You okay?" Xavier asks, and (Y/n) nods.

"Yeah, just... hanging out." He said, before Xavier can ask, there is a knock at the door.

"You want to get that?" (Y/n) asks, Xavier shrugs and heads to the door, (Y/n) turns and motions Wednesday who quickly hides under his Bed, the door opens to Bianca. (Y/n) smirks, sending the body figure and the siren like humming from her.

"Oh, I didnt know we could have "Friends" over." He said smirking, much to the annoyance of the two.

"Don't worry Queen Bee, I'll let you two go at it." He says and leaves, he exits to give them some space.

"You're not supposed to be up here." Xavier said.

"Good to see you too." Bianca said obviously a bit offended.

"How'd you get past the Housemaster? Use your siren powers?"

"Not while wearing this." Bianca shows the charm necklace. "Would it kill you to not think the worst of me for once?"

"What do you want, Bianca?"

"To see how you're doing. I'm sorry about Rowan. I know you guys used to be close."

"Since when did you give a damn about Rowan?"

"You were the one afraid he'd do something to Wednesday. Isn't that why you've been following her like an eager-eyed puppy? Or is there something more? Seriously, what do you see in her? You have a thing for a tragic goth girls with funeral-parlor fashion sense?"

"Maybe it's because she hasn't tried to manipulate me."

"I make one mistake, and you can't forgive me. She treats you like crap, you can't get enough. Why are you fixated on Wednesday? Because she thinks she's better than everyone else. I can't wait to crush Ophelia Hall tomorrow and watch her werewolf roommate crumble. It's gonna be a Poe Cup finale to remember."

"I hate to think what you've got planned."

"My game's already started. I like to win. Is that so wrong?"

"And you wonder why I broke up with you."

"You used to love my killer instinct. We were good together, Xavier." She said, reminiscing.

"Were we? Is that just how you wanted me to feel?" Xavier's tone was full of distrust, and anger.

"Trust me, Wednesday Addams is not the girl of your dreams. She's the stuff of your nightmares." Bianca says, and Leaves.

(Y/n) waits outside, Bianca leaves and minutes pass and Wednesday exits as well.

"Found what you need?" He asks, and Wednesday looks over him up and down.

"Yes. Follow me." She said, and like a loyal dog, he follows. They creep into her dorm room to Enid, crying on the bed. (Y/n)'s attitude immediately softens.

"Enid, Enid what's wrong?" He asks, she turns to notice the two entering through the window together.

"I'm literally having a heart attack right now. Yoko's in the infirmary!" She said Panicked though tears and (Y/n) comforts her with a hug.

“Shhh Shhh, What happened?”

"Garlic bread incident at dinner. She had a major allergic reaction. She's out of the Poe Cup. I don't have a co-pilot." She said sadly; and (Y/n) gives her a pat on the head to comfort her.

"It's gonna be okay." He said, she tightened her grip around him and her claws began to come out, stabbing him in the side.

"Ow. ow, Enid, ENID!" He says and she quickly lets go, wiping her tears.

"Sorry! Sorry.." She Said sadly. He waves it off.

"It's okay."

"It wasn't an accident. Bianca's behind it." Wednesday said, which catches the interest of (Y/n) and Enid.

"How do you know?" Enid asks.

"Doesn't matter. We are going to take her down tomorrow."

"Wait. You're joining the Black Cats? You're willing to do that? For me?" Enid said, and Wednesday looks at (Y/n), he motions her to be nice and Wednesday replies coldly.

"I want to humiliate Bianca so badly that the bitter taste of defeat burns in her throat."

"Yeah, but mostly you're doing it because we're friends, right?" Enid asks, and (Y/n) puts his hand on Enid shoulder.

"Yes, because we're friends, and I'm going to make sure Bianca will never mess with Enid Sinclair or anyone like this again." He says, his dark aura radiating.

"Tell me how she keeps winning." Wednesday said.

"It's a real brain cramp. The past two years, no other boat has made it across and back without sinking."

"Sounds like sabotage." Wednesday said, "There are no rules in the Poe Cup, and she is a siren, which makes her master of the water." Enid admits, and (Y/n) snaps his fingers, a crow comes flying from the open window and lands on his arm.

“I’ve learned a few Hexes and curses from my family, and I know just the one.” He says, “The answer is simple, we just need to beat her at her own game." (Y/n) said. His smile grows more and more like a Cheshire Cat. The Next day, Wednesday walks past Bianca to (Y/n) and Enid awaiting.

"We're all set." Enid says.

"Good. Thing's in position." Wednesday Leers at Bianca.

"Wanna tell me what you two were up to?" Enid says to (Y/n) and Wednesday.

"And spoil the surprise?" (Y/n) smirks, he turned towards them.

"Trust me, a few modifications to the boat and a few crows watching, we have everything.

"Speaking of surprises, your costume's in the tent." Enid said to Wednesday, which confuses her.

"Costume?"

Wednesday exits the tent in the cat costume, black and, tight fitting with even the ears to compliment. Enid comes up behind her as Wednesday is absolutely fuming at this.

"OMG, you look purr-fect! Only thing, where are your whiskers?" Enid asks in her own costume

"Ask again, and you'll be down to eight lives." Wednesdays scowled back, (Y/n) approached.

"Alright, I've got everything ready, where's Wednesday?" He asks.

"She's right here." Enid said, (Y/n) turned his focus to the figure next to her, looked a bit perplexed, he's never seen her wearing anything besides dressed and he's never got a full sense of her ..figure. He tries to play it off and laugh, he felt like she was naked and embarrassment washed over him.

"Of course it's you, alright! ready?" He asked, Enid and Wednesday head to the canoe. Sitting inside, there are three other sets, all with different teams. One specifically was Bianca's team. Principal Weems gives the introduction to students. Wednesday looks down to Thing and a Walkie-Talkie in the Boat.

"I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allan Poe Cup. This is one of Nevermore's proudest annual traditions, dating back 125 years. Each team must row across to Raven Island, pull a flag from Crackstone's Crypt, and hustle back without sinking or being sunk. First team to cross the finish line with their flag wins the cup and bragging rights for a year, as well as some special privileges. Let the Poe Cup begin!" weems fires a gun into the air and the teams row off. (Y/n) quickly disappears into the crowd and runs along the river. Standing on a small dock, he kneels down to focus on the rowing boats.

He feels the four slowly begins their journey to the island, he senses something else moving in the water. It can't be a fish it's too big, it seems, human.

"Of course!" He grabs his other Walkie-Talkie and comms in.

"Black Cat, this is Blind Hawk, I know how Bianca is cheating! There's another Siren in the water! He's going to topple you over!"

"Roger." Wednesday replies and they continue to row, Wednesday and Company unfortunate reach last before Bianca and Ajax's team, the last flag was taken by them, but a plan was formulated to sink Ajax,

"The final two teams are the Gold Bugs...and the Black Cats!" Weems says from the Megaphone. (Y/n) senses the rowers closing in.

"Whatever you have planned. Do it now." Wednesday says, and (Y/n) smiles.

"Obliged, just stray from the center of the river, I can't control where it goes." He says, Bianca's crew stays in the middle as Wednesday's slowly maneuvers to the side. (Y/n) calms himself and begins to concentrate.

(Y/n) raises his Cain, and storms begin to brew.

"Go ndalladh an diabhal thú, Agus Bealtaine go deo leat dul ar strae!"

He slams his cane into the ground, a dark shadow falls over Bianca's team as flocks of crows come flying, surrounding and blinding them. They scream and bat them away, but to no avail. It halts their journey and Wednesday and company pass them. And even Wednesday could only smirk slyly at it.

"A Murder of Crows, How poetic." She says and spots (Y/n) who gives a bow. They reach the school and confidently jam the flag into the position and secure victory, cheers erupt from the crowds and Enid grabs Wednesday absolutely elated.

"Yeah, we did it! OMG, Wednesday, we did it! This is the greatest moment of my entire life. Admit it, you kinda got into the whole school spirit thing." She says, Wednesday Looks to the side to Bianca and her team sadly making their way there.

"You didn't tell me it was a dark, vengeful spirit." Wednesday watches with dark glee, the end of the festival. The cup is awarded. Principal Weems now gives the speech to the students of Nevermore..

"The first Poe Cup took place in 1897 as a way to not only honor Nevermore's most famous alumni, but to celebrate those values that all outcasts share. Community, perseverance, and determination. And we certainly saw those values on display today! Congratulations to Ophelia Hall! As a former resident, I will be happy to see the cup back on the mantle after all these years." She gives Enid the trophy and they celebrate, but Wednesday is not one less for celebration and sits alone in the corridor, she stands before the statue of Poe with a Raven on his arm, she sits at the base of the statue and lets out a weary sigh. She closes her eyes for a moment.

"Now, What are you doing down here?" A voice calls out, she opens her eyes to (Y/n) standing there, one hand in his pocket and the other on the cane.

"Hiding. People keep randomly smiling at me, it's unsettling." She says, (Y/n) chuckled at that.

"They're looking at you because you did something amazing, You took down The Bianca Barclay. Try to enjoy it, anyway... I wanted to ask if you, wanted to celebrate. Privately of course, as a way of saying thank you for helping Enid, I'm even if it was selfish." He said, giving a warm smile.

"Oh, come on, it won't kill you." He said, she continues her stare, but she gives in.

"I'll think about it." Wednesday said caving into his Cavity inducing sweetness.

"Yes!" He says, but he quickly composes himself. "I mean, of course. I'll be seeing you." He says and walks off, Wednesday watches him leaving, thinking to herself.

"Nevermore continues to be an enigma. A place where the questions far outweigh the answers. But sometimes... the answer is staring you right in the face."

(Y/n) and Wednesday stand side by side, at the statue.

"The Statue of my Favorite Author that i have seen countless times, how thoughtful." Wednesday says deadpanned, (Y/n) Kept smiling.

"I suppose it is, but while the celebration was going on, I did some research of my own. And specifically of the statue, sometimes I listen to music on my walks and I was particularly enjoying the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. I came across the statue and touched it, cold metal, I tapped on it and noticed that some parts of it were, hallow, I continued and noticed small latches on the wings. there are hinges and mechanical gears within. I saw the wing could move, so, after doing a few experiments, I figured it out." He explains, and Wednesday looks intrigued.

"Figured out what exactly?" She asks, he motions her to the statue.

"Please, Snap twice." He says, Wednesday obliges and snaps twice, the wings fold and the arm pulls in, and the statue begins to retract and show a flight of stairs. Wednesday heads down and (Y/n) follows. They enter what seems to be an old library. The knowledge hidden within these walls.

"Secret societies. Hidden libraries. My mother staring at me in a judgmental way. These are all things I've come to expect." Wednesday said, she takes notice of something though.

"(Y/n)." She said, "There." Wednesday approaches a wall of books.

"This, these are the books Rowan Had." She said and he stands next to her.

"I see... so, we know where Rowan got the book from, question is, what was he doing down here?" He asks, the two look in, "But the minute I inch towards the truth..."

As she says this, (Y/n) quickly picks up on the danger looming, he tries to turn to face it, but to no avail. the two are bagged and bound, being dragged into the darkness.

"Luckily, I'm not afraid of the dark."

#netflix #wedensday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #Wednesday #Wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams x male reader #male reader #reader insert

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justice-scenarios · 4 months

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Hello I hope you are have good day and if alright

I saw in your villain blog about a child who have a Batman backstory

And it gutted me 🥲 so much and I was wondering how the other hero’s reaction to tha, any hero will do

The heroes end up Adopt the Traumatized child

And now the child have fear of guns

Maybe a little bit of salt to wounds , how about the child looking exactly like child version Bruce , as in a spitting image of him ,

Damn you just wanna get hurt. Okay lol. I'm tempted to just do Batfamily but I'll try doing it with other heroes, too. Also, I'm not sure about adopting the kid, but they will have a close relationship.

Batman

Oh, so you wanna for him to relive his trauma?

The moment he sees it memories hit him and he freezes. It's like he sees the moment from Gordon's eyes.

But he gets himself together when he sees the kid. He needs to make sure they're okay.

Slowly hushes them and takes them away from the scene as he brings them to Gotdon.

Will visit them as Bruce for a talk so the kid knows he's not alone. Him adopting another traumatized kid doesn't suprises anyone, especially since the scene was too similar to his own.

Holds their hand when they're scared of gun in the movie. He understands them. Doesn't pushes until they want to get help with it.

Alfred

It's like a punch.

He only saw Bruce when he was at police station, so seeing how the crime scene looked before police got there was heart-wrenching.

And the kid. It's like seeing young Bruce again. He needs to get them out or he's gonna have heart attack.

Has hard time letting kid go at police station. He doesn't want them to be afraid. And doesn't want to ask Bruce to check on them, worried it'll open old wounds.

Once Bruce finds out, however, he wants to talk to the kid. He sees how Alfred takes care of them like he did with him. So he proposed to Alfred that he should adopt them since he's so worried.

Thinks he's too old but he does it eventually. Now he has little helper around the house.

Already hide his gun from Bruce so does the same for kid.

Flash

Just stops in his tracks.

He heard the cries and immediately runs towards just for it to shock him.

He want to take a kid away away but he knows it would just give them a shock, so he slowly comes closer.

Calmy talks to them, saying he will take them in a safe space.

Get kid to the nearest police station, telling officers what happened.

Changes his costume and goes to crime scene to do his job. Can't forget about the kid so he goes to meet them afterwards.

Superman

Kid doesn't want to talk so he tells them about how he found his mother and it seems to earn kid trust.

Sees how they turn eyes away from police guns so just tells them to not walk around kid with them.

Kid and him become pen pals, making them little less lonely.

He blames himself. How could he just hear it now? Why didn't he hear the man threatening them?

At the moment all he cares is to take care of a kid.

He hugs them taking them away. Kid doesn't want to be left so he doesn't argue.

Just talks to police to go to crime scene. Once therapist comes to talk to the kid they sit on his lap as he assures them.

When the kid almost cries when talking about gun he tells them not to worry. He can stop the bullet.

He visits the kid sometimes just to talk and check how they're doing.

#pati writes #batman x platonic!reader #bruce wayne x platonic!reader #alfred pennyworth x platonic!reader #flash x platonic!reader #barry allen x platonic!reader #superman x platonic!reader #clark kent x platonic!reader

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classificationhell · 24 days

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so how would both lucifers or alastor handle a little that nearly starved to death in the past from hunger? Like their Littles sheer anxiety and paranoia over possibly loosing their food or their not being food in the house causes them to hide food in their room just in case despite being given food on the daily. Every now and again you can smell the left over food they have stashed in their room. Maybe their little might have an episode if they see someone wasting food carelessly with their little yelling or getting physical with careless waster?

As I have established, Alastor isn't th best in helping out with things, but he will try. Since in this universe, Sinners' bodies don't decay like normal, I feel like anything made with meat from them wouldn't either. So his way of dealing with it would likely be making jerky or salt cured meat that the Reader could hide and store away without it going bad. He never had to go hungry as a child, but he saw what it was like for his mother and he could only imagine how she might have resulted to the same tactics if they ever had enough food on hand to squirrel away. So he is sympathetic to Reader's insecurities. However, he would only try and curb them so much. So what if their drawers are filled with Sinner jerky? All this, of course, is assuming they don't mind eating other Sinners.

Should they mind it, he will still be trying the preserved meat method as that doesn't go bad or leave odor like say his jambalaya or gumbo would, not to mention the mess if it spills. He's not trying to stop a deep-rooted habit, just trying to curb it to more manageable things that nobody else would notice.

As for snapping at someone who wastes food, well, he actually fully agrees with that. However, he just wishes you wouldn't make a scene, darling. Will teach them ways and methods to get back at someone secretly, or at the very least, wait to confront them when they're alone in their room or something.

Lucifer is more proactive in trying to find a solution to these behaviors. Might even take them to the Sloth Ring to have professional help regularly if he can't find a decent enough Sinner who's a therapist with experience in this sort of thing. He tries talking to you about it himself to see if he can understand it better. He just can't imagine how there's just so much food in some places, yet people still starve to death or nearly do it. Well, no, actually, he can people suck, but still that badly? No wonder hell practically overruns with Sinners.

Anyway, if he has to, he'll keep a container of non-perishable food items in their room until such a time they no longer feel the need to have squirreled aay food should that day ever come. As for outbursts, he'll try talking to them about it, but this may be another discussion to have with their therapist. Will privately speak with any and all guests in the hotel, and enforce a small portion rule so people can always go get more provided they finish everything on their plate first. Picky eaters will pick out what they don't like before eating to give to someone else who does, but he will still work on Reader's own issues with them.

#ask response #classification hell au #classificationhell #thank you #reactions #lucifer reaction #alastor reaction #lore adjacent

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mbti-notes · 10 months

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Anon wrote: INFJ here, 28F but questioning my gender identity. My question and its context is kinda NSFW, but has been bugging me for a long time now.

I believe I’m asexual and recently started wondering if I might be aromantic too. A couple of weeks ago, after a make-out session with a queer platonic partner (45M, romantic and possibly demisexual), I realized that looking at my body in the context of what we’re doing turns me off.

A little history here, I’ve always envisioned myself as a guy in my head growing up; I wanted to get gender affirming surgery at one point; and only recently have become more accepting of my body as something that I need to take care of and sustain, and not be cruel and uncaring towards. I also spend most of my time in my head, so my body has always been a cage of flesh and blood to me.

Another thing that also happened to me before is that after having sex with an ex, I felt like my mind was slowly coming back to my body and wondering if I had been the one doing all of the things that I did. It felt very distant, mechanical, and maybe even disgusting? I—or my brain—seemed very critical of what had happened. It was a consensual affair, but it almost feels like my mind dissociated even though I seemed to be enjoying it in the moment.[end of warning]

I thought that these two occurrences could be due to my inferior Se—the magnitude of external stimuli in the moment that needs to be processed—and my Fe in overdrive—feeling what the other person is feeling, because I feel I am very empathic—when I’m remotely intimate/physical with someone. Do you think that could be the case? Is it possible that these two functions contribute to my asexuality and aromanticism? How about gender identity?

I’m also wondering if maybe it is the self-image that my Ni has of myself and my body that doesn’t align with what my body actually looks like. In which case, I feel it’s closer to dysphoria? Is it something that I can work on by developing myself as a person, like in the dev guide? I feel very lost & confused. I’m trying to take the right steps by checking in with myself, talking to my therapist & my qpp, but I’d appreciate any guidance you could give. Tnx & happy pride! <3

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Happy pride month! You're bringing up a really, really complex issue. Two issues, actually: gender identity and sexual orientation. The fact is there hasn't been enough research about them, let alone research that would link them to personality type. In a lot of ways, mental health professionals are kind of allowing LGBTQ+ people to set the stage for how best to help and counsel them. While empathy and compassion go a long way to ease the pain of prejudice and discrimination, it's hard to find a therapist who really understands this kind of experience unless they've been through something similar as well.

I mention all of this as a disclaimer because it's important to acknowledge that a lot of what we think we know about gender identity and sexual orientation is very much speculative or merely opinion. Because LGBTQ+ experiences have also been heavily politicized into wedge "issues", it's also important to note that the people who speak the loudest about these issues aren't necessarily the ones you should be trusting.

I will start out by stating the fact that asexuality and transgenderism exist. There are studies that reveal neurological differences between allosexual and asexual people, as well as cisgender and transgender people. For instance, asexual people show less attentional and emotional engagement with sexual imagery.

That being said, I am not aware of any definitive and objective way to verify whether someone is actually asexual, aromantic, or transgender outside of what they believe is true about themselves. There are cases of people who come to believe they are asexual because they're operating on an oversimplified definition of it as "not liking sex", or aromantic as "absence of romantic feelings". That can't be the whole story, because humans are very complicated.

The person may or may not actually be asexual and/or aromantic. When you take into consideration the complexity behind why they dislike sex or have no/muted romantic feelings, it could be something seemingly unrelated to orientation. For example: physical or mental health issues; hormonal or libidinal issues; going through religious or moral education that downplayed romance or demonized sexuality; fear of vulnerability; fear of intimacy; insecure attachment; too many negative romantic/sexual experiences that weren't properly processed; having suffered sexual abuse or trauma; etc.

One way to sidestep the either/or trap is by understanding asexuality and aromanticism as a spectrum, where sex drives fluctuate, romantic attraction and feelings ebb and flow, etc. At this time, we take people at their word when they claim to be asexual and/or aromantic. We treat it as a factual statement about their current attraction patterns, sex drive levels, and relationship preferences. But this isn't very helpful for someone who's really questioning their own existence.

As you alluded to in your case, there is a chance it could be more related to personality development issues than sexual/romantic orientation. IF that's the case, developing your Fe and Se functions would eventually lead you to find meaning in emotional connection with a romantic partner and enjoyment in sexual activity. But the word "IF" is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.

I'm not a therapist, so I will only speak to type development if you are truly interested in developing Fe+Se and seeing where it takes you. With regard to Ni, a self-image can change and evolve when new experiences allow you to see yourself in a new light. Challenge yourself to build as many strong relationships with people as you can mentally and emotionally manage. It's important that you interact with as wide a variety of people from all walks of life as you can find. This allows you to experience the fullest range of what human relationships can offer you, so it prevents you from drawing bad conclusions from too small a sample of what's actually out there.

In the process of building these strong relationships, you will certainly run into problems. Pause and reflect whenever you meet an issue, difficulty, or conflict in yourself. Inquire into what it really means and what it says about you. Of course, you can ask for help from a therapist about how to interpret your feelings. Use real-world experiences to reveal all the obstacles in your mind that might be preventing you from connecting with people emotionally, romantically, and sexually. If it's possible for you to remove those obstacles, then maybe the issue is more psychological and you are not as asexual or aromantic as you believe you are at the moment, if at all.

To be clear, I'm not advocating for any kind of conversion therapy approach. I'm not saying you have to try to turn yourself allosexual. The main point is that you have to dig really deep into yourself and discover what's really there. As an Fe type, part of that process involves systematic experimentation as a means to learn important truths about yourself -> other people are your mirrors. When Fe is underdeveloped, people don't see themselves clearly and their self-concept can be heavily distorted by unconscious social pressures and expectations. An important aspect of Fe development is becoming fully conscious of social influences, such that you discover the boundary between where you end and others begin. And the most efficient way to learn is through firsthand experience in actual relationships.

With regard to gender identity: Disembodiment is a known defense mechanism, and it's not an uncommon manifestation of inferior Se issues. At the very least, it signals that something's awry when you're using it as an escape. I don't know where you live, but it certainly doesn't help that in Western culture, with its roots in Abrahamic religions and ancient Greek philosophy, there is a rather strong undercurrent of devaluing "earthly" things like the body and viewing the (especially woman's) body as a source of impurity, evil, or imprisonment of the soul. Western culture strangely divides up the mind and body in a way that makes it difficult to feel like a whole and integrated being. This is part of why Westerners get fascinated by Eastern cultures and their more holistic ways of thinking.

If you're serious about exploring gender, then you really have to dig deep into the concepts of masculinity and femininity and everything in between. Gender is largely a social construct but many people don't actually understand the full implications of this claim. Some people think a social construct isn't "real". Some people think a social construct can be easily changed at the snap of a finger. Neither is correct. I'm not going to get into the weeds of gender theory, for that you can consult the recommended books on the resources page. Suffice it to say that one cannot have a proper understanding of one's own gender without considering how the concept of gender is constructed by the society one lives in.

For example: The majority of cultures around the world are patriarchal. If you don't know what that really means, the takeaway point is that femininity has traditionally been underappreciated, even devalued. In a heavily patriarchal society, everyone is socialized to view men as superior and women as inferior in all the domains of life that are considered important to that society. Socializing people like this is about upholding traditional roles and hierarchies from one generation to the next. In the worst cases, women are treated as property or commodities to be used, traded, and abused at will.

Living in a society that devalues your existence, it would make sense that some women would want to disavow femininity or womanhood in order to preserve self-esteem and sanity. After the women's liberation movement of the 1970s, a portion of women understood "feminism" as being equal to men and doing all the things that men do, so they started wearing suits, getting obsessed with careers, and behaving more aggressively. But that was misguided because it meant further uplifting masculine ideals at the expense of the feminine.

As someone born with a female body, viewed as and treated as a woman by the society you live in, it is important for you to go through the process of opening up your mind to exploring and, if necessary, unlearning sexist thinking about what it means to be a "woman". If after having gone through this process of "deprogramming" your social conditioning and releasing yourself from rigid gender stereotypes, you realize that you're comfortable being a woman in a female body, then okay.

However, if you've gone through all that and you are no longer influenced by sexism and you still have no real connection to the concepts of femininity or womanhood, then you can feel more confident in calling yourself something else, something that more accurately captures what you are. You may decide to call yourself man, woman, nonbinary, transgender, androgynous, agender. It's about what fits you best when you think of your gender (or lack thereof). The takeaway point is: You'll only be able to see what you really are when your mind is truly free and clear of all the outside noise that pressures you into being something you're not. This goes back to needing Fe development and being more conscious of your position within society and how it affects you.

Since you're asking for my thoughts, I'll be transparent in offering my personal opinion and you can take it as you will: One of the problems with construing gender and sexual orientation as an "identity" is that it can sometimes become an obstacle on your path to realizing your true self. By putting a label on yourself, you are more likely to feel at peace, discover peers, and feel solidarity with a community - that much is true. But there's also a darker side to it. Sociopolitically, a label means you inhabit a predefined role, you have images and expectations placed upon you by society that you will feel pressured to live up to (due to Ni+Fe), you have a more fixed concept of who you are that could inadvertently cut off your potential for change and growth in meaningful directions. While I understand and support the case for labels and their ability to clarify one's existence, I also believe that labels eventually outlive their usefulness and have to be transcended in order to realize one's full potential as a human being.

#infj #auxiliary fe #inferior se #disembodiment #gender #lgbtq #asexual #aromantic #transgender #ask

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innerslumber · 1 year

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I know this might sound silly but I am feeling really emotional over the messages I've gotten over the Marvel Exhibit posts. I've had people thank me for sharing because they will probably never get a chance to see it. I've had people who has already seen the exhibit but the stuff I saw was new for them and how much they enjoyed it. It's just...been really gratifying.

Because going to this exhibit has been on my To Do list for months. When I finally escaped my abusive spouse with my children, all I could think 24/7 was how do I protect them and how do I get our family stable. And I remember one of my kids' counselor telling me that I need to pick at least one thing for myself. One thing that is just for me because he said I deserved good things too. That I should be free to have an afternoon where I can have fun, without worry and guilt.

And every month, like clockwork, he'd ask me if I had gone to see it. And every time I had an excuse. Oh I was busy meeting my lawyer because I'm about to go to court. Oh I gotta get our new apartment set up. Oh my friends are busy and they can't help watch the kids. There was always something more important because there was so much to do. But the truth was, I was also just so scared. What if my kids got sick while I was gone and I couldn't be at the school right away? What if my car broke down and I got stranded? What if I missed an important call because I was too distracted? Just scared scared scared.

But the exhibit was leaving in April and I knew the clock was ticking. So I finally picked a date when I knew my kids would be looked after, bought a ticket and went.

I remember at the start of the tour, the museum employee said most people spend 30-40 minutes to get through it. I spent almost 3 hours. I read every plaque, stared at the art and costumes from every angle, and even looped back to see things when the crowd had thinned out. Just so I can savor it. Because I felt this panic, like if I don't seize this moment, I'll never be allowed to enjoy something alone again.

But after the tour was over, I went and got lunch and let it sink in. That this wasn't my last chance to enjoy something for myself. That it was okay to enjoy myself. That I was allowed to. I could eat this food that I normally wouldn't have ordered because my spouse would complain about the smell of the food I grew up with. That I could enjoy it without censure or ridicule. I didn't have to rush back and be terrified that I would be late and get screamed at. I could actually pay for this lunch from my own bank account. That I didn't have to sneak around using cash that I had squirreled away so my purchases wouldn't give away my location on the online bank statement. I could just...sit there and watch people walk by in the sun while I sipped my soda and...it was okay. I didn't have to feel guilty that I was alone and enjoying an afternoon doing something "frivolous".

And it just really hit me why I even wanted to go to the Marvel exhibit in the first place. Because luckily I fell into this fandom just when my life was at its darkest. All the wonderful friends, fics, art and crazy posts that helped me get through all the lonely, scary, painful days and nights. Reading Bucky recovery fics after he escaped his torture and brainwashing and telling myself I can do that too. Then feeling stupid that I was projecting so hard on a fictional character but desperately wishing I had a Steve too.

My therapist told me that recovering from trauma is not linear and I'm going to have good days and bad days. And sometimes it will take days before my mind processes things completely. Over a week passed since I went to the exhibit and I found myself crashing. I know it may seem ridiculous but in my mind, I was setting a pin on this outing. A bright shining lodestone in my mental eye. A box that I could tick saying, "Yes. You're finally at a point where you can allow yourself to have this." And now that I was on the other side of it, I felt a bit lost.

But I was scrolling through the pictures I took and I decided to share on the blog. Initially I was just going to send some to friends in DMs but I changed my mind. Editing 90 images and writing up posts at 3 am was probably not a good life choice but fuck it, I never said I was smart lololol.

So I'm really glad that I was able to give something back to the fandom that's given me so much through this difficult time in my life. It's just pictures and my crack commentary but I'm happy that it gave other fans some serotonin. Some days I feel this imposter syndrome where I'm barely holding it together and I am sure I'm not the only one. But it feels so damn good when my friends and I can squeal over our favorite characters and just take unabashed joy in it.

Because for the first time in a long time, my body is my own, my mind is my own and my heart is my own. I can empty my mind of the pain and fill my heart with love.

And where my mind and my heart wants to go, they can. Even to go see some superhero tights.

#personal thoughts #PTSD #recovery from trauma #stucky #fandom love #gosh i got so fucking lucky meeting you all #what a bunch of stand up impossibly loving human beings #i hope we can keep squealing over Bucky and Steve together for a long time #or any other ships you all indoctrinate me into hahaha #love you #Marvel: Universe of Super Heroes

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icedmetaltea · 7 months

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I feel pretty close to doing it ngl. Today was... horrible. Is. It's only 2pm now. Who knows what else could happen between now and tomorrow.

I've been so on edge, unable to calm myself down. On the verge of a panic attack constantly, then having a small one for like 30+ mins... I got my mom to come up here and spend some time w/ me but she was obviously distracted. We ended up talking while I drew, weighing options.

I need the fluid from my ears gone so my anxiety can finally begin to calm down. I can't go anywhere in the car though without having horrifically bad panic attacks, so I'm terrified of driving anywhere, and seeing how the nearest clinic is 30 mins?? Fuck that.

Wondering where I'm going to spend the winter... or even the next month. I should probably be in a mental institution till they can figure out what tf is wrong with me and get me on the appropriate meds. The therapist yesterday said there's a possibility I have bipolar disorder, and that would explain why I feel so unbearably unstable if so. Again, though, the nearest would be at least a 40+ min drive. Wouldn't fix the ear issue.

I can't stay here in this camper bc it's not an all-season one. It's getting cold out, nearing October and I've barely able to comprehend it.

I can't stay in Virginia cause if I stayed with my sib again, well, they're planning to move to New York soon and they're taking the kittens with them ofc. And they seem much happier without me there. If I stay with my sister, she's busy with a job and 2 kids. I can't have one of my screaming panic attacks in front of them.

So yeah. I feel trapped. In my own head from the muffled hearing, in life since idk where I'm going to be in the next month or two, also just knowing nobody wants me around. I know my mom would be so much happier if I wasn't there, free to be with her husband and go about their daily lives without dealing with a load of baggage like me.

She snapped at me when I mentioned suicide and while I can understand why, it still hurt. She said she had a migraine and needed to leave so I'm alone again. Alone with crippling anxiety and racing thoughts. Alone without a solid ground to stand on. Alone without knowing where I'll end up in a month, knowing I'm unwanted to my whole family even if they reassure me, alone in knowing that if I do end up staying in an institution I'll have basically nothing to do but be completely alone with my thoughts around strangers who are possibly loud and/or aggressive. Alone. Just alone.

And yea, suicide is looking like more and more of a good plan. If I go through with it, I should do it here while I'm surrounded by all these guns. On the other hand, I'd have to go out in the woods where my mom wouldn't find me, at least not till I'm unrecognizable. On the other hand I keep telling myself this is temporary and eventually my hearing will come back, eventually I'll live somewhere where I'm wanted and don't have to worry about suddenly having the rug pulled from under my feet, but come on. I've been telling myself that since my friend left. It's been 3 months and it's only gotten worse. I'm worse off than ever. I need help and idk how to get it here. I'm in counselling, I have a doctor who can give me meds, but it's still somehow not enough. My mind keeps screaming out, demanding my attention, trying to protect me from what, suffocation? I know it's irrational but it's been plaguing my thoughts. And idk if therapy can help. Not in time, at least.

So yeah, I just keep telling myself things will get better, but I'm beginning to think that I'm just a horrible liar.

On something more positive I guess, I called the crisis line my therapist recommended and for once someone was there to talk me through a panic attack. The last time I called while I was in VA, they basically just said idk go to ER I guess?? But no the lady sat with me for like 20+ mins. I was still on the verge of a panic attack (and tbh still am) but idk it was nice. I've always heard panic attacks aren't "serious enough" for crisis lines but she said I could call anytime.

Cause like... the panic attacks I've been having aren't normal. They aren't the kind I'd be able to manage back in the day. They're all-consuming, they make me feel like I'm choking/going insane/passing out all at once, they make me scratch myself till I bleed, they make me scream. Maybe that is just bc my hearing is still muffled (and again idk how tf to deal with that) but yeah....

Having the weight of that looming over me with no end in sight also makes the idea of suicide look very pretty and convenient. It'd hurt, but just for a moment, not like these horrible long nights with racing thoughts, broken sleep full of nightmares, the choking feeling in my throat constant and unforgiving.

What do I still have to live for? Like 5 things idk. 1. guilt bc I'd feel bad about mom finding me since she's so sensitive. 2. OFMD s2, 3. Drawing??, 4. Finishing fics??? Idk., 5. I genuinely cannot find a 5th one and that scares me.

Zen, if you're still alive, congrats. You've done it. Your absence completely and utterly ruined my life. I will never be the same again.

My body is actively trying to kill me. I just wish it'd do it sooner, in one fell swoop, fucking give me a heart attack or something. I'm tired of the constant anxiety, the creeping depression, losing all interest and passion and the little things that make me...

yeah. I think I will. I just don't know what way I will. Or when. If life is worth living, then it better give me a fucking miracle real fucking soon. I can't take this anymore. I really can't. I want to get out, I want to get out, I want to get out. I'm tired, I'm aching, I'm scared, I'm guilty, I'm useless. I need help but there's none. Next therapy appointment isn't till monday and wtf are they going to do?? I need to be in an institution and the nearest one is so far away. I'm trapped. I need help. I need help. I need help. I need help. I need help. I need help.

But at the same time I don't want help. I've been asking for it so much, using people, and for what? I'm still going to go through with it. What's it matter?

Why help someone who's more or less already sealed their fate? Besides, it's not like I'll miss much. The world is getting worse and worse. Rights being taken away left and right. Why bother living?

#irl stuff #vent #tw suicide #suicide #suicidal thoughts #mental health #99% sure the antibiotics are making me have some kinda psychotic breakdown #I literally cannot stop having these racing thoughts #I won't take anymore #if I go to an instiution what'll they put me on?#What if it makes things worse? What if I do have bipolar?#Even then I'd have to go to VA bc that's where I have medicaid #my god I've been costing mom and dad so much money #on more and more prescriptions that don't end up working #delete later

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lantur · 6 months

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mental health stuff,

October marks my four-year anniversary of being in therapy. I have a wonderful relationship with my therapist. She's helped me get through a lot of challenges, from major life stressors like my dad's diagnosis and death, and dealing with my emotionally abusive mother, to dealing with struggles with anxiety, depression, ADHD, workplace issues, etc.

I've gone from seeing my therapist once a week when I need the extra support, to once a month. She's really happy with the routines and coping skills I've developed, and she joked the other day that she's working herself out of a job - but we won't stop therapy until I'm ready.

I feel a bit self-conscious about being in therapy for four years, since I don't think most people stay in for that long. Derek pointed out that I was on a great trajectory until last summer when my dad was diagnosed and things took a pretty steep downturn mental health-wise then, which is to be expected.

I'm really happy with the coping skills I've developed over the years too. I have so many more close friends than I used to, and I know what works for me with regard to managing my ADHD and more or less managing my depression and anxiety.

One thing I still struggle with is processing my feelings. What I want to do is journal more often, and get my feelings out in between therapy visits. I've used my Tumblr as a journal for 10+ years, which is wild, but I want to be more consistent about it. I write when I'm happy and feeling good, usually at the end of the weekend.

I want to write more when I'm feeling not so good. And I have been feeling not so good this week. I pride myself on my resilience and my ability to bounce back from difficult, painful situations; on the fact that I can survive and sort-of thrive even in situations that are not ideal. So it's hard for me to admit when I'm not doing so well. I also don't like to dwell on negative emotions, and I choose to emphasize my more positive feelings instead. But I think I have to feel the negative and get it out so I can move on.

I've been having a hard time bouncing back from how bad I felt after my mom's disastrous visit in September. The whole first week after she left, I felt so sad. Last week and so far this week, I've felt so much anger. So much anger over the way she treated me last month, but also last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that…

It's a bitter and confusing thing to have your own mother, who should love you and support you and encourage and uplift you, treat you like dirt. To deliberately try to hurt you at every turn; to always try to tear you down by saying that you're not doing enough, not giving her enough. I tried so hard, SO HARD, for so many years, to make her happy. I was her therapist at 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, with no mental health training or background, with major mental health struggles of my own, trying to talk her out of depression, out of suicide.

No matter what I said or did, it was never enough to make her happy. When I finally broke free of that pattern of trying everything to make her happy - after I started therapy - then she started punishing me with escalating emotional and verbal abuse for making my own life choices that didn't align with the life she wanted me to have.

For a long time, I felt a huge void in my life due to not being able to have a relationship with my brother due to my adoption. Over time, I've done a lot to fill that void, with my wonderful friends, who are like family to me. It's harder to replace my mom, though. She can't be in my life anymore because she has proven herself truly incapable of treating me with kindness, love, and respect. Nobody in my life has ever hurt me more than she has.

I have so much anger about my mom treating me the way she has, because I deserved better. I was a child and a teenager who didn't know that at the time, but I see it now. I would never treat a child the way she treated/treats me, let alone my own child.

I admit it makes me jealous when I see Derek and my friends with good relationships with their moms. It makes me aware that I don't have that. A positive, supportive, loving relationship with your mother seems like such a gift. All I get from mine, all I've gotten for years, is pain. And moms aren't "replaceable," I guess. I can't swap out my mom with someone else, the way I kind of have with my friends / my family of choice as my siblings.

Derek says that his parents think of me like a daughter, which is sweet, but it's not the same. My greatest hope right now is that one day, I can finally have a good experience of a mother-child relationship, with a child of our own. I deeply hope it works out.

#lanturing

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subsystems · 1 year

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Hi! I love your blog, it's really helped with not feeling so alone in the world. I wanted to ask a question specifically about system life. I'm diagnosed with DID but am still in the denial stage (even though it's been about two years), but I'm at a pretty good place in life. When i'm doing well, it seems like I can't hear or talk to my alters as much as usual, or hear them as well/feel their presence. Is this normal? All it really does is make me feel like I'm delusional or faking. Not asking for a diagnosis obviously, just wondering what others' experiences are. Thanks!

Ohh, anon. This is really relatable to me. There's nothing wrong with you and, no, you're not delusional or faking. For a lot of people, the symptoms of DID don't act up unless they are under a lot of stress. Even though you've known about your system for two years, communication can also still be pretty difficult. It's completely understandable how this would trigger your denial.

Back when DID impacted me more, the symptoms would ebb and flow as life changed. Sometimes it would be eerily quiet. Sometimes, there would be so much inner craziness I couldn't even think straight. I actually think it's a good thing to keep track of this!

Try writing down whatever you're experiencing, so you can share it with your therapist & also just have something to look back on one day. You can also use mood/symptom tracking apps like Daylio! I would track things like "internal chaos," "internal confusion," and "internal silence" but you should describe it however feels right to you.

Good luck, anon!

#actuallydid #actuallyosdd #actuallydissociative #actuallytraumagenic #sunflower answers

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soullikethesea · 7 months

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I feel sad. Saw T yesterday and it went better than it did last time. I could tell she was really trying and she seemed open to connection. She also asked about parts and that felt nice, because sometimes many sessions go by without ever talking about parts and it does make some of us feel unseen at times. (I know we should just bring it up ourselves in those cases).

T asked if I felt like therapy feels like a repetition of something (like earlier therapy). And yeah, in some ways. It does remind me of L and Old T, near the end, right before I stopped seeing them. I told T that we have gotten to know each other really well and now that seems to make it progressively harder for me.

It feels stuck. I get knots in my shoulders as I approach the terrain. Mentioned that, and then T asked a whole bunch about "what the knots would say if they could talk". Lol. The only thing I could imagine them saying was "go away". Not to T, I think, but to me. T proposed taking a walk, but I was scared of seeing other people outside. So then she said to just imagine taking a walk. I couldn't bring myself to follow her in imagining, unfortunately. I just had Wuss yelling at me inside.

Whenever I felt myself being pulled into emotions, getting upset, he yelled that it's bullshit and that I need to snap out of it. The fear of getting upset for like three days again, losing precious energy I need to cope with work.

T also asked if I was upset with her, but I just can't find the words! I just don't know. Am I upset with her? Maybe??? But why???? And is it not just me being horrible and ruining everything? T said she wondered if it was "attachment stuff", and yeah, probably, who knows... She said that I could imagine a perfect session with a perfect therapist and then we would know what to do. I kind of snapped at her that she still expects *me* to know everything, but I actually don't. I think it would be something like a T proposing some exercises and guiding me through it by giving options.

It's probably transference or just me being stupid, but I do think I need more structure. And yes, this feels like being back at Old T and how she came to telling me that she can't help me.

The T I have now is a bit more solid, but yeah, maybe I'm already driving her towards that as well.

I just feel so overwhelmed and I want the world to make sense and not to lead my own therapy. I already lead so much while I'm teaching. And man, I feel so freaking lonely.

I'm holding on at work, but I'm sacrificing my ability to connect.

Wuss kind of blocks all possible therapy work as well. He says that it's bullshit to focus on the past, because it's over and it's just a pity party to think about it. He says that about any and all emotions, basically. It's wearing me down. It's true, I don't want to think about the past anymore. It feels too heavy. But I also want to live a life that has a certain quality of life to it. Being all alone and not even in touch with myself hurts that QoL.

I sent T an analysis video of the 8 Passengers case on Youtube. It reminds me so much of how my dad and stepmum were, their mindset. I hope it shows how you get an overcontrolled child. But it also feels so pointless to share. Who even cares, why should it matter what happened. I've thought about it for 10 years and I'm still struggling.

I wish I could go back to some inner softness and some connection. I'll take connection with T if that's all that's available. I just can't seem to handle it. Even breathing in therapy scares me.

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evilcatgirlwizard · 9 months

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Hello Black Hole

Your event horizon shines like the sun. You ate one recently, so it makes more sense than not. As I stand on this deck on a ship a thousand light-years away, all I can do is think about you. Hello, black hole. Do you ever dream?

Of course, you haven't the ability to retain information like me. Or love, for that matter. You eat up anything that gets too close, and you only spit out molecules we can't possibly understand. How do you keep all that inside and not dream of any of it? I was always told bottling up ones emotions was bad for you. Hello, black hole. Do you ever dream?

The scientists on the decks above are whispering about your skin. The horizon on your perfect sphere, 3.14 going on forever and ever and ever. Every number and every letter, forever and ever. They say you record what you have eaten on your skin, like the fuzziness on our telescreens when the connection to Earth gets slurped up by you. Do you like the taste of those Simpson reruns? Hello, black hole. Do you ever dream?

The others in my sector think me strange for spending my time staring. We aren't that far apart, black hole. Most of our waste gets jettisoned out to you. Sometimes I can't help but feel like I should be jettisoned out there with it, even if the ship therapist tells me not to think like that. Do you ever know our dreams from the crumpled paper we throw to you? Do you enjoy the taste of our desperation to understand you? Hello, black hole? Do you ever dream? Please tell me.

Sometimes, when I get anxious, I trace the shape of your silhouette with a finger against the glass. I fear I've done this enough that the cleaners are giving me sidelong glances, but each circle makes me calmer. Do you ever feel anxious? Do you ever wonder if you might gobble up the wrong thing? Do black holes ever have to fear anything, or can they eat up all their anxieties? I would give up everything to be able to simply sit down and rip apart my fears like you. Do you hear me, black hole? Hello? Do you ever dream?

They say you're the center of our galaxy. That you'll eventually pull everything into your gullet, and we'll have to find a new galaxy to continue in. But they also say at the center of every galaxy is a black hole. So if we leave you, we'll just be alone with some other black hole eventually. A black hole we don't know like we know you. You're the inverse of the sun, the great devourer, the tidal gravitational force that helped shepherd us into our initialization. Why would we ever let you go? Leave you behind? You're as important as our sun. Please don't leave me, black hole, not before you tell me if you can dream.

I have the first photo they ever took of you on my palm. A photo from centuries ago, taken by eight telescopes all over our planet, just to get a coherent glimpse of you. We were so worried we wouldn't be able to see you, really see you. I'm glad we did, because we saw what beauty you have. There is always beauty in absence, of course, but humankind isn't great at knowing that. I love what you lack. The empty place I think I can fit my hand into. What is a hole if not a thing with infinite sides to grip onto? And I would hold you, if I could. If I had the chance. If I was jettisoned like the scrap paper and butchered data. Do you dream, black hole of mine? Would you want to dream with me?

I keep tracing circles. Even in this suit as I do work on the hull, I trace circles. I trace circles into the side of the suit, to keep you in mind even when I have my back turned. I know you're there. Out here, I can feel your pull. You want to devour me, too. And I have half a mind to let you. I do my task, though--the hull needs to be repaired. And afterwards? Afterwards, I... I don't know. I tie the oxygen hose, cut the area below the knot, disengage the magnetic shoes, and float away. Towards you.

I cannot turn to look at you as I drift. I trace circles against my thigh. I wonder about being with you, how circular must it all be. Photons, neutrons, elements, crystals--circles, circles, circles. And how I despise hard edges. The ard edges of the paper scrap. The hard lines of math we try to use to understand you. But I understand you, in all your circles and infinite edge. I understand the corona of blazing starstuff, I understand the skin with memories of what you've devoured, I understand the fact that you will hold everything inside until you can't anymore. I know you used to be a star, I know you used to cry like we do, I know you're older than just about anything I've ever seen that isn't you. I know we can't really see you, only what isn't there because of you, I know that I can see you anyway, I know you store no information yet hold countless quantities, I know you would love to hold me like I would love to hold you.

I know you'll hold me now. I can't see you, but I know your shape. I can see the circles.

I know you can dream, too, because you dreamt of eating me whole.

#i dont fucking know man #poetry #shoet story #black hole #????? i guess like #tw implied suicide #implied suicide

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montammil · 1 year

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oh oh oh, can we have some psychological punishments as a request, then? Lawrence takes Charlottes advice close to heart and twist it in some horrible sick torture idea. For example: Lawrence tells Marshal that since he never learns no matter how much Lawrence hurts him, than maybe he should show Marshall how much punishing his son hurts Lawrence. And so instead of torturing Marshall, he brings someone else in the basement and slowly kills him in front of crying tied Marshall.

I actually wonder would it be more effective than hurting Marshall directly?

Or, if it's too much and Lawrence not that crazy, maybe simply blindfold Marshall for a few days?

This one is pretty demented... yeah, I might've gotten a little carried away... enjoy! :)

CW: Parental whumper, murder of a parent (not Lawrence), creepy comfort, possessive language, brief talk about religious themes, drugging via syringe, kidnapping, death by slitting throat

Sitting next to Lawrence, Charlotte raises a brow. "Are you okay? Did something happen with you and Marshall?" She's used to basically being Lawrence's therapist with these things, she's heard it all before. She only really inserts her opinion when he asks of it because last time she did, he snapped at her and insisted he knew what he was doing.

Lawrence slouches further in the couch. "Marshall... nothing will work on him. I've tried gently scolding him, to more corporal punishment, but all it does is make him even angrier at me." He sighs tiredly. "I just want him to love me."

Charlotte hums in acknowledgement. When he vents to her about these things, she doesn't know exactly what to say without giving her own input.

"What do you think will work?"

"Are... you asking for my opinion?"

"I'm desperate."

"Well..." She trails off in thought. "What's the biggest psychological punishments you've given him?"

"Locking him in the basement for a few days I think is the farthest I went. What did you have in mind?"

"Hmm..." She looks down at the table. "Maybe you could get creative with it. Have you ever used his loved ones against him? You mentioned how he brings them up sometimes. Who does he bring up the most?"

Lawrence's lips curve into a smile. "Are you suggesting I kill one of them?"

"I don't know if that's something you'd do since I know it's a little radical," Charlotte chuckles, "but I think that'd be super effective. If Marshall doesn't have anyone to return to, why would he want to go back home, right?"

"If it'd work, of course I'd do it, but what if it makes him hate me?"

"He can't hate you forever, especially if you're all he has left."

Lawrence nods. It's definitely something to consider.

...

"Marshall, please stop throwing a fit," Lawrence begs in exasperation just a few days later. "You need to leave your room. I won't allow you to just lock yourself in here. At least eat."

Anger flashes in Marshall's eyes as he turns his head to look at the older man. "Leave me alone. I hate you!"

Lawrence can't hide the hurt he feels at that. "Bud, I'm trying to help you. I'm sorry that you feel that way, but if you don't get out of bed, I'll drag you out myself. I'm not doing this to hurt you, this is me showing you how much I love you by doing this. C'mon now, get up."

"No! My real parents were better than you could ever be! Find yourself a new obsession!"

"Mention them one more time and see what happens."

"What? You mean my parents? My real parents?"

"They kicked you out!" Lawrence grabs Marshall by hem of his shirt, yanking him forward and out of bed. "They hate you! They will never love you, so stop fucking bringing them up!"

A sob escapes Marshall's mouth, tears falling down his cheeks. He shakes violently as he thrashes out of Lawrence's grip, now retreating to the corner of the room to curl into a ball and cry.

Lawrence covers his face with a hand. He shouldn't have done that. "Sweetie..."

"Don't call me that! Leave me alone!"

Breathing heavily, Lawrence leaves the room after saying softly, "I'm sorry, kiddo. I love you so much."

Marshall just cries harder.

As Lawrence pulls out his phone to make a certain call, he tells himself, this is for Marshall... this is for us.

...

"Here's your payment!" Lawrence tosses a wad of cash toward the man, who catches it with ease. "You're free to go now." Lawrence watches him leave, then looks at the unconscious figure with a burlap bag over his head. He rips it off and is unable to contain a grimace at how similarly this man looks to Marshall. He feels a little jealous, even.

He waits for a few minutes, knowing the drug that was given to Marshall's so-called father must be wearing off any time soon. He'd love to have a little chat with him. As much as he hates the man, if it weren't for him kicking Marshall out, maybe they wouldn't have even met.

Lawrence has already done all the research he needs to know about him. His name is George Mason Jackson, he's 57, and worked as a pastor. He apparently had quite the reputation within the community, though nobody seemed to know much about him personally.

After waiting a few minutes, Lawrence grows impatient and slaps the man. It apparently works, because George's eyes slowly open. Lawrence admires the confusion mixed with fear in his eyes.

"Good morning." Lawrence grins at him.

George blinks rapidly, soon horror swimming through his eyes. "Who are you? Wait..." His eyes go from narrowed to wide. "You're--"

"--Lawrence Cross, I know," he chuckles. "I was about to be offended if you didn't recognize me. I bet this is all some kind of fever dream for you. I don't blame you... not many people wake up in a famous actor's basement, after all."

George's eyes dart around as he tries to process everything. His breathing is heavy and labored. Finally, he settles. "W-Why am I here?"

His seemingly innocent smile turns into a much darker one. "Marshall loves you a lot, you know that?"

"Marshall! You--..." George starts fighting the chains looping around his arms. "You were the one who kidnapped him!"

Dread rises up in Lawrence's stomach at that word. "Kidnapping," the word comes out like poison, "no, I did not kidnap him. He loves me, he just needs some encouragement. That's why you're here."

George doesn't reply, still comprehending everything.

"Even if I did kidnap him, why would you care? You kicked him out. He had no money, no phone, I doubt the poor thing had any friends. I looked into his history and found some interesting things. You don't even want to hear what he's said about you on his socials. It broke my heart all the sick things you'd tell him."

"I'm sorry," George chokes out, "just please don't hurt me."

Eyes flashing dangerously, Lawrence grabs his chin to force him to look at him. "You aren't even going to ask if Marshall is okay? You are fucking pathetic." He lets his chin go and grabs a roll of duct tape and before George can protest, Lawrence slams a thick piece against his mouth. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

With that, Lawrence leaves the room to see Marshall still in the corner of the room. Lawrence sighs to himself. Did Marshall really fall asleep there?

"Marshie," Lawrence coaxes, kneeling down. "Hey, wake up. I have a surprise for you."

Marshall wakes up and groans. "I don't care."

Frowning slightly, Lawrence sits down on the floor next to him. "Are you sure, kiddo? I think you'll like it. You've been talking nonstop about this certain someone."

"What?" Marshall's attention is gained rather quickly, as the younger man lifts his head to look at Lawrence. "What person?"

"There's only one way to find out." Lawrence stands and gives him his hand. "Come."

Marshall doesn't take his hand, but still follows him. When Lawrence leads him down the basement, Marshall hesitates, but when he hears muffled yelling, he starts rushing down the stairs and pushing past Lawrence. Lawrence will never forget Marshall's reaction. The younger man's face goes pale, eyes wide and shocked. His mouth hangs open as his jaw drops.

Gasping, Marshall bolts over to the man tied to the chair and starts crying. "D-dad?"

"Do NOT call him that. He doesn't deserve that title," Lawrence is quick to snarl. "He was only worried about himself when he got here, even when I told him you're here too. Does that really scream of a loving father?"

Instead of giving a reply, Marshall ignores him, just looking at George with wide eyes. He continues gasping and sniffling, until he can finally speak again. "Dad," he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I'm--"

Lawrence pushes Marshall aside, tearing the duct tape off of George's mouth and gripping him by the hair. "Marshall, don't you dare apologize to this piece of shit. He needs to apologize to you." His electrifying blue eyes shift to the writhing older man. "Go ahead, Georgie, apologize to him."

George fights against the chains for a moment, then stares at Marshall, trying to muster the courage to say something. "I--I'm sorry, son."

Lawrence releases his hold on George's hair. "You shouldn't have the privilege to call him your son. Not after everything you've done to him."

Marshall sobs, clutching onto Lawrence's pant leg desperately. "Please, L-Lawrence, let him go. Please... don't hurt him, please!"

He looks at Marshall with pity. "He hurt you first, kiddo. Besides, this will be a valuable learning lesson for you, right? I'm going to show you how it feels in my perspective every time you try to leave me."

"No! Please!" Marshall shakes his head aggressively. "If you let him go, I swear I'll never try running away again! I'll call you Dad, and-- and I'll love you, whatever you want! Just please... don't do this..."

Lawrence shakes his head. "You already made those promises before. I know they're lies." He reaches forward to abruptly grab Marshall, ignoring how George shouts and curses at Lawrence. Lawrence shoves Marshall into the wall and starts tying his legs and arms together with rope. "Don't fight it, kiddo, I'd hate to give you rope burn."

"Stop!" Marshall tries kicking and punching the air, but it's no use, Lawrence easily overpowers him. "Please, Lawrence!" He struggles to get free, but it's useless. "I'm begging you! Don't do this! I love you!"

"Sure you do." Lawrence finishes and stands. "I'm doing this for you, okay? Everything I do is for you."

Marshall tries squirming out of the rope, tries pulling his small wrists out, but Lawrence has it extra tight, so tight he feels like his blood circulation is ready to cut off. He strains to talk, but can barely get a word out. "L-Lawrence... please..."

"Marshall, I love you so much. This is for us. For both of us." He kisses the top of Marshall's head, ignoring the pain when Marshall headbutts him. He strides back over to George, who looks both angry and terrified, his screams having stopped, replaced by his mouth gaping in horror.

George resumes screaming when Lawrence grabs a knife.

"No!" Marshall shouts, struggling to try to get loose again.

Lawrence smirks, then takes a deep breath to calm himself. He traces the knife gently along George's throat. "What are you scared of, George? You believe in an afterlife, right? Or maybe that's what you're afraid of? I don't blame you. I think if there is one, we both know where you're going."

Tears start to finally cascade down George's cheeks. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're an awful father and you need to be out of the picture," Lawrence states simply. "You don't deserve Marshall." With that, Lawrence drags the knife against George's carotid artery, earning the loudest earsplitting wail from Marshall.

Lawrence steps back, smiling at the sight of George gasping for air, blood spilling out of his neck. He watches him, Marshall's loud sobs not even having an effect on him, too busied with watching George die.

He normally isn't this sadistic, but to see the same man meet his end that not only abused his poor child, but was also getting in between them; it's never been so thrilling to watch someone's life fade from their eyes.

Finally, George falls silent, taking his last breath.

Lawrence wipes away some of the blood dripping from his hands, chuckling to himself. He turns his attention back on Marshall, who's now hyperventilating. He coos and rushes forward, not acknowledging how Marshall tries flinching away from him.

"It's okay, sweetie. It's over. It's finally over." He kisses Marshall's hair, rocking him back and forth while Marshall continues to scream. "Shh, shh, shh... I've got you... Dad's got you..."

Soon Marshall becomes stiff, disbelief clouding his eyes. Lawrence picks him up, and as soon as Marshall sees his real father bleeding out, slumped over in a chair, he starts screaming again.

Lawrence doesn't try silencing his screams. Instead, he lets Marshall scream until he stops again, just replaced with sobbing. Finally, Lawrence picks him up and carries him back upstairs, where he lays him down on his bed. He grabs a syringe from his pocket and Marshall starts panicking again.

"It's okay, kiddo," he says soothingly. "Just relax." He injects the needle into Marshall's wrist, and the younger man lets out another sob. He strokes his cheek softly, trying to comfort him. "I'm here. I'm gonna make it all better. I promise."

No one will ever take you away from me.

#cold cold eyes #lawrence oc #marshall oc #parental whumper #tw death #tw parental whumper #whump

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