#is he manic? probably. is he psychotic? no. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefiery-phoenix · 6 months

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yandere dg hcs if u havent yet?? ty❤️

YANDERE JAMES LEE (DG) HEADCANONS

He's an unpredictable ticking time bomb to say the least. It doesn't matter if he's James Lee or DG, they're STILL the same person. As soon as his eyes land on you, that's when your entire life belongs to him now. He's borderline possessive, obsessive, manipulative and not above gaslighting you emotionally to make you stay with him. There are 2 instances when you could have met him, as James Lee or as DG but it doesn't make the situation any better since they're both the same obsessive psychotic person when it comes to you

If you met him as James Lee, it would probably be when you'd be in school with him or something. You were the sort of person who'd never get involved in fights and always kept yourself under the radar. Your only concern was to just pass the freaking math test this week with a decent score. While you were returning home from school, you spotted James hitting a few people like they were nothing and you glared at him disapprovingly. He spotted you glaring at him and he was amused by your pouty glare. "Aww...don't worry princess, you don't need to worry about bad men anymore" he said in a slightly patronizing condescending tone with a smirk on his face. You just grumbled under your breath and walked away as his eyes never left your figure till you vanished from his sight. He couldn't help but softly chuckle to himself, you were quite intriguing

He'd spend time getting to know more about you which will also involve smacking people around to give him the information he needs regarding you. He won't even be discreet about following you or stalking you at this point, he just has this arrogant cocky grin on his face and thinks he's protecting you and comes up with a number of reasons on why you need him to be around you. He despises it when you pay attention to other people though, they're just mere pests in his eyes. Why would you waste your time with them? Why would you waste your time with those silly little annoying pests you call your friends? You're clearly a naive one if you think they don't have ulterior motives towards you, he's certain they have ulterior motives towards you

Or you could either meet him when he's DG. You could be an assistant of his or a dancer, catching his attention as DG would he slightly more difficult compared to him as James Lee because he's so used to people throwing themselves at him and he just doesn't even bother to react to them anymore. Miraculously if you do end up catching his attention at some point, within the next 10 minutes he'll have every single nitty gritty detail about you one way or another and reads about you like you're some kind of fascinating specimen in his free time

As time progresses by, he'll start growing more possessive and obsessive towards you. It'll get even worse if you're going out with him and in a relationship with him. He'll want to know about every single thing going on in your life and who you're with and what sort of pest he'll have to get rid of to ensure you're his. I wouldn't put it past him to not resorting to installing cameras in your house either because he really would do something like that. What? It's just to ensure your safety, that's all. You'll always have someone stalking you from behind the shadows and you'll never have your moment of privacy again. Say goodbye to your much cherished privacy since it'll go out the window and down the drain and he's the reason for it

He likes you for being yourself. He's met plenty of superficial people and people who's personality changes even faster than the colors of a chameleon but your presence is like a breath of fresh air compared to the usual people he interacts with. You could be plain and simple and he'd still love you. In his own twisted manic way. He's drawn to your humble down to earth nature. He loves it when he gifts you something and you start blushing and turn flustered, he's now made it his personal mission in life to see you get flustered more often since he finds you rather adorable and endearing when you do that. Your cheeks puff out slightly whenever you're feeling embarrassed about something so he'll teasingly caress your cheek with his hand to watch you squirm even more. Your reactions are too cute and entertaining for him. Sadistic MF

He loves to spoil you. Whatever you want, just say the word and you'll have it in the blink of an eye with a shiny packaging wrap around it just for you. However a while later his behavior will start getting much worse. He'll slowly start distancing you from your friends since he wants your attention to be only on him. There's a reason he's called one of the 10 geniuses you know. He'll do it in a calculating manner you won't know and realize he's isolating you from people before it's too late. He won't even deny it when you confront him about it, the way he sees it is he's just doing this for your own good. He's fought against gang members and yakuza leaders and whatnot, there's a reason he's one of the feared skilled fighters around. He doesn't want you going through the same thing as him so just be a good little spouse for him and accept his love for you. Will take you out on bike rides on his bike as well. He loves it when you hold him and rest your head on his shoulder. Night bike rides with him are quite romantic, he'll take you out to a place where the stars are visible and he'll hold you in his arms and you both will enjoy the peace and serenity of the night atmosphere, looking at the stars

Oh,you'll report him to the authorities? Darling, you're just making him laugh with your naivety at this point. He has the power and authority to buy the entire police department or whoever he wants. He's an IDOL admired by the people. When the faith in him is strong, no one can bring him down. It's not like someone would even believe you anyway and even if you do find the one sane enough person to believe you, DG will get rid of them quickly. Don't bother trying to escape from him either, he has all the resources and power to locate you and trace your location in mere seconds. You'll be dragged back to 'your home' and he'll just scold you like you're a child. And all escape routes for you will be destroyed, you'll lose your internet privilege for a month and the security system will be more improved and he'll change the locks too. Look, he might be a ruthless fighter but that doesn't mean he's a monster at heart. He genuinely does love you and care for you, he doesn't want to hurt you. He'd never get physical or raise his voice at you even when he's mad

Will control everything you do. Whatever do you need a job for? It's strenuous to work these days, he doesn't want you getting tired and gaining the attention of some random undeserving scumbag who doesn't have the right to look at you. He's more than enough to provide for the two of you. Let him just spoil you and take care of you

Don't even get me started on what he does to people who hurt you. Now it depends on the sort of person who's hurt you. If it's just some random jealous fangirl or fanboy, he'll use his popularity to his advantage and that person's account will get suspended and they'll have an fanbase hurling curses towards them. Fanbases can be quite scary at times. If it's some gang member or some jerk of a gang leader he will not go easy on them. He'll ensure they live, sure but live a painful torturous life. He'll either make them blind in one eye or both, or cut one of their fingers off or something for daring to hurt you. He'll finish the job quickly and he'll do it by himself. If it's Charles Choi trying to hunt you down for some reason....well, it's been long enough since that old man's been in a position of power and he'll bring him down. It's best if you don't ask where the blood is from

He likes holding you in his arms and having you on his lap. It doesn't matter what you say, you're sitting on his lap one way or another. He'll give you soft kisses on your lips every now and then and loves it when you do basic chores around the house even though you don't need to since there are people to take care of that for him. He likes seeing you in that cute little apron of yours, cooking something or doing laundry or whatever. He'll envelope you in a hug from the back and press soft kisses to your neck as his arms will be wrapped around your waist tightly so you won't be able to escape from his grasp

Overall, he's a good guy with a psychotic hidden personality inside. Just don't leave him and things will be all right

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hereforthehitsbaby · 9 days

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Hoodie | Cooper Adams/Abbott x F!Reader

Gif Credit to @billy-crudup

Synopsis: I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this

Warnings: She’s angsty babe, Mentions of Murder, The Butcher Mentions, Mentions of Suicide, Cheating/Infidelity, SWAT, Guns, Reader 100% is down bad for Cooper even with what he did, It’s giving Stockholm Syndrome but the reader isn’t captured by him

Rating: PG

Word Count: 4.6K

Author’s Note: You know, you can thank my manic episode for this. Also I know the song has a totally different meaning but, my brain took over and who am I to stop her?

If you would like to be tagged, please fill this out

You'd probably think I was psychotic (if you knew) / What I still got in my closet (sad but true) / I slip it on over my shoulders / Something I'll never get over / It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

Loss; the fact or process of losing something or someone. No one knows how to properly process loss – though there are no guidelines on the correct way. It comes in various shapes and sizes – not always as transparent as it is expected to be. That’s what makes the human experience so different across vast networks, everyone processes emotions in ways not one human can comprehend. It’s the equivalent to time, there are so many seconds whirling by, impossible it is to grasp how many different processors truly run for one emotion. Some cry, some wither away to nothing, some lash out, some lose their sobriety. A slim majority does not react, because to them – why would anything good stick around? Why do they deserve it? Abandonment is a fickle bitch, and something you got too used to knowing.

Learning that people weren’t a permanent staple point in life was the worst thing for you, because then you started to expect everyone to leave, at one time or another. Maybe that was the countless times it has happened to you talking but, it’s a feeling that never leaves the back of your mind. It sits there, claws at parts of your brain you’re not supposed to use, sinking deeper and deeper into every soft part of flesh until it blackens. The rot taking over, making you feel helpless until pulling away is the only option. It’s a vicious cycle that you can never seem to break, no matter how hard you try. Which sucks, expecting the worst when you more than deserve the best. And the best came in the form of an amazing, well educated, humble man.

I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this

You never anticipated falling in love with Cooper Adams, or Abbott as he is now known. But sometimes you cannot anticipate destiny, but only let her play out. All it took for you was a kitten stuck in the stone foundation of your home, coming to find out four different litters were calling it home. Cooper was the one to find them, rescue all fifteen of them, and even adopt one for the station. He stayed with you as he helped to clear out the deceased bodies, as you cried holding their little forms for feeding, and as you nursed them back to full health. He was never without you, only living two houses over. Never would he lie about where he was, his wife knew all too well – but refused to get in the way of Logan and Riley seeing the kittens. She suspected, but never could find reason.

All it took for you to realize Cooper was your person, was when you were ready to leave for work and found him under your car, jacked up and tire freshly replaced. You didn’t even realize you had a flat, Cooper saw it before he was about to leave for work. He knew that your car was your lifeline, working over forty minutes away. He wouldn’t let you suffer like that, out in the cold and all, freezing your ass off with cold fingers. No, he tossed on a hoodie and cap, put himself to work and was rewarded with the promise of dinner. He held you to that, to the kitchen table, to the kitchen island, to the couch, the stairs, and lastly the bedroom – all in one night. You both knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t lie to himself; What he and Rachel had was over the second Logan turned four. They were coexisting in the same house, playing their parts to a tee without any hesitation. They kept to themselves, saying goodbyes and I love yous in front of the kids – but they knew it was done. It was you who made Cooper feel alive again – made him feel loved. He had lost that so long ago he wondered if it was real for him anymore. You’d do anything for him; Lie, hide, and even believe.

It was obvious from your fourth month into this affair that Cooper was The Butcher – an accidental slip up of coming back to you smelling of cleaning product. It was only obvious from the slight chemical irritation on his forearms, the small hives a clear reaction. It wasn’t a firehouse cleaning product but more of a hospital type – meaning that he got his hands on heavy duty stuff, which he could’ve only gotten without being suspicious through your account. Working in the medical field was a blessing but, in that moment you thought for a second it was a curse. You could see the glimmer he had for you brighten with the inclusion of tears welling, heartbroken you’d have to be his next victim. But that all changed once you held Cooper’s face in your hands, rubbing back and forth on his cheeks as you smile proudly; “I accept you, my love. We can manage, I won’t tell a soul.” If he had been honest, Cooper didn’t trust you at first. But when days turned into weeks, and those turned into months with no one coming after him, he knew he hit the jackpot.

I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts / Still rocking your

Tonight, Cooper was supposed to come home to you after taking Riley to see Lady Raven, something she worked hard for over the course of six months to go. Cooper was so proud of her and the great report card she had gotten, you were proud of her as well. Lady Raven was her idol, someone she found solace in when her preteen angst was acting up. Cooper wanted to do something special for her; A night she would never forget for the rest of her life. You remember Cooper saying he visited the box office at the arena right before they closed, buying the last floor seats – the closest Riley could get to Lady Raven. It was everything he could’ve hoped for and more – though he wished he remembered to remove the receipt from his wallet, hiding it in case Riley found out. You knew he wouldn’t come over automatically, he still needed to keep the façade up, act like he was still a family man even though all he wanted to do once the kids fell asleep, was be with you.

With the concert starting early during the day, you knew Cooper wouldn’t come back to you until later tonight, around ten or eleven depending. But you missed him; The warmth of his body as he hugged you from behind, the weight of his arms against your chest, the soft feel of his stubble scraping along your cheek as he nuzzled your neck. You both were in a completely different world when you were together, at the door was his first life – with you was his second. Cooper was always adamant on the two lives not touching, which you could understand. But sometimes you wished they did, wished you could be involved in his first life without the repercussions, it was a fucked way of thinking but, nothing with Cooper made you feel rational. It made you want to be the only one – though that could never happen. At the end of the day he was coming home to you, not Rachel, and that would have to do.

The brisk October air flowed through the open living room window so quickly you didn’t hesitate to wrap Cooper’s hoodie around your torso, taking in the musky smell of his cologne and the firehouse. Cooper loved seeing you in his clothing, how happy it made you, how the gleam in your eye shone brighter with every second you wore it. When the first feel cold breeze of autumn rolled through your house a few weeks ago, Cooper quickly discarded the hoodie he had recently gotten from the firehouse, marking the eighteenth-year anniversary that he started. No effort was wasted when he came up behind you, sliding it up your arms and zipping it up neatly. For a few seconds he patted the shoulders down over your form, seeing how it hugged you beautifully. In that moment you saw it in his eyes; Love, he was in too deep too. From that day forward, you never stopped wearing it when he wasn’t home, needing to feel closer to him. To be one with him.

I used to put my hand in your pockets (holding on) / The smell of your cologne is still on it (but you're still gone) / I slip it on over my shoulders / Someone I'll never get over / It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

Grabbing at the shoulder of the hoodie, you brought it to your nose for a deep inhale – smiling softly as you smelled Cooper’s cologne, fresh from the other day. Bergamot and pine invaded your nose, causing your eyes to roll back. There was something so intoxicating about his scent, it drove you silently mad in the best way possible – you didn’t want to let that go for anything in the world. It was your way of feeling like he was with you, when he couldn’t be. Your way of grounding yourself in the moment, planning on what you two would do when he came over. Deep into the fantasy you were creating in the moment, you didn’t hear the racing sound of sirens coming down the street – see the bright flashes of red and blue lights flowing through your home, or hear the screaming until it was too late. “Logan, don’t forget to turn in your science project!”

Your ears perked up at the sound of Cooper’s voice, growing giddy at the fact you were going to see him so soon. Opening your eyes you were met with the flashes of police lights coming from the open curtains, your stomach dropping as you heard the garage door close a few houses away. Cooper. Running from the living room to the front door, you slid on your boots quicker than you could have ever guessed, slamming the door open against the wall. With Cooper’s hoodie still wrapped around your body, you walked quickly down the sidewalk where there was a small crowd gathering, seeing a limo, Rachel, Logan, Riley, and even Lady Raven standing outside of the Adams residence, SWAT officers with their guns drawn as they secured the perimeter of the house. You didn’t know what to believe or ask what was going on. But as soon as Riley and Logan ran past you to another woman’s car, you got your answer.

Rachel turned around in slow motion to see Logan and Riley off, in the midst of it all catching your eye in the crowd. Tears were welling in the corners for you, as hers were bloodshot from crying. Her arms wrapped around herself as she let her eyes roam over your torso, seeing the firehouse symbol with the big 18 in yellow font. Her slack face drew up in confusion, then to realization. Your heart was in your throat as you slowly backed away, trying to get a clear angle in the house to see what Cooper was up to. It was only then that everything caught up in your mind. They found out. They all found out Cooper is The Butcher. Your hands grew clammy, starting to shake at what this all meant. If I am ever found out sweetheart, the only way out of it is to kill myself.

I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this / I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts

A sob trickled out of your mouth without you realizing, tears falling heavily as you spun around to face your house. No one was giving you any attention as you cried, all probably thinking someone had died. But to you, he was close to it. With shaky fingers you managed to grab your phone out of the hoodie pocket, unlocking it quickly with your passcode. The first number up in your latest calls was Cooper from earlier today; How excited he was to see Riley so happy, how he was going to make her year with this, how did things go so wrong? Clicking on his name, you brought the phone up to your ear, hearing the three rings before it went to voicemail. “Fuck,” you whimpered, sniffling back a sob you could feel at its crest. Swallowing as you clicked his name again, and again, and again, and again, all until your phone screen went black. “Fuck!” You yelled out as you started to make your way back towards your home, but not before someone caught your arm, spinning you around in place.

You could feel how warm your face was from crying, how the salty tears dried against your cheek uncomfortably. You were shivering but not from the cold, from fear of losing Cooper. Blinking the unshed tears from your eyes, you let your pupils focus on who spun you around, being met with the dull eyes of Rachel Adams, her face stoic, yet scared. “How long?” She whispered, afraid to speak up louder. There was only one right answer, yet you couldn’t muster it out of you. Your mouth fell open to respond but, nothing came out. “Please,” Rachel sighed, her lip in a small pout for a moment as she tried to regulate her emotions. A sad smile came across your lips as you reached forth with your empty hand, holding her hand softly. “I think you know, Rachel.” It was better than giving an exact timeline, and enough to where nosy neighbors didn’t have to know either. Rachel let out the breath she was holding, a fresh wave of tears coating her eyes as she tightened her grasp on your hand. It wasn’t out of malice or anger, but closure. Giving you a smile that matched your own, Rachel rubbed your hand in both of hers, nodding before she walked off to the house.

Still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts / Still rocking your

It was time for you to do the same; Needing to charge your phone in case Cooper called. You were hoping he didn’t do anything stupid; you were hoping he was okay. “There’s a tunnel to the neighbors yard, he’s not here!” That was the last you heard before stepping back inside.

-----

Nightfall was upon you, the darkened sky matching your mood as you laid on the couch, phone on the coffee table as the news silently drones on in the background. Your eyes were fixated on the TV, fresh tears you had not been aware of were falling, covering the pillow under your head. It had been over two hours since Cooper was found out to be The Butcher. Every new channel was running the story, posting the clips from the venue of Cooper with Riley and Lady Raven. Reporters were outside of the Adams residence, covering every new detail that came up. You were sure that was highly illegal since it was active scene by the FBI, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. Not when your whole life had just been turned upside down. Your boyfriend found out to be a murderer, his wife knowing he was having an affair, everything was a mess.

Any little sound you heard coming from your window you jumped at, hoping it was Cooper. But alas, it was just another reporter staking themselves out on your lawn, wanting a hit of the newest story from this scene. You needed to see the house, everything. You needed to know if this was all real or a bad dream. Laying around on the couch was only going to get you so far – this would give you closure if he was captured, or if something else had happened. Standing up from your position on the couch, you felt yourself getting lightheaded for a moment, shaking off the imbalance for a moment before moving. As you stretched upwards to cracked everything in you, a visceral scream could be heard around the neighborhood – one full of rage and fear, one that made your hairs stand on end. You didn’t think before your feet took off, tripping over your coffee table as you scrambled out of the back door, not caring that it was left wide open. You were taking off quickly down a few houses to where a bigger crowd was starting to form, everyone in their bathrobes and jackets, trying to get in on a piece of the action.

From your angle at Cooper’s house, you couldn’t see what was happening inside but could see multiple SWAT officers going in and out. One of them had long chained handcuffs in their hand, the ones that were attached to the waist and ankles of the prisoner. The clanking of the chains was muted now by the chatter over the radios, quiet enough so not everyone could hear but, if you focused hard enough you could make it out. “The Butcher has been captured. He’s being cuffed now.” In a way you were happy to hear Cooper was just captured, and not dead. You knew how good he was on his word of suicide, not thinking twice about it but, you didn’t want to live without him. The whole life you two wanted to build together, it may not come true now but – that was okay. There was nothing stopping you from visiting him in prison, having conjugal visits – you’d do anything for him.

If you want it back / If you want it back / I'm here waiting / Come take it back / Come take it back / If you want it back / If you want it back / I'm here waiting / Come take it back / Come take it back

The large presence of officers coming out of the house caused you to focus back on the front door, pushing your way to the front of the crowd to see what was going on. Wearing a blue and red flannel, was your Cooper. Not the clean-cut Cooper the forehouse saw, that his family saw – the one always put together and smiling. No, this was your Cooper; Disheveled hair, manic look in his eyes, a smirk that could light the whole world on fire. He was in his true form, not the fake mask he put on for his family. Seeing that gleam of rage in his eyes made you smile softly, knowing exactly what he was capable of. As Cooper walked out of his home and down the front steps, he stopped halfway down the path, turning to face where you were standing. The SWAT officers had AK’s trained on him, threatening to shoot if he tried anything, but you knew they wouldn’t.

Cooper’s gaze fell to Riley’s bike on the lawn, tipped over from all the commotion. Needing to right this wrong, Cooper knelt to pick it back up, running his thick, calloused fingers over the tires, knowing he may never see Riley grow up. It killed him to think about it; He wanted to take this moment in for as long as he could. You saw the trepidation in his eyes as he stared at the bike, running his fingers over the spokes. It’s when his gaze shifted up to you, that you saw the darkness layered – the glimmer of sinister intentions, one that made your lower stomach ignite. “I love you,” Cooper silently said, mouthing to you as your eyes caught his. All you could do was smile, biting your lower lip as the tears sprang free again; Your arms wrapping around your shoulders as you hugged his hoodie tighter to your body. “I love you so fucking much, Cooper,” you whispered back, causing his own eyes to glisten with tears.

Behind you a car pulled up quickly to the scene. Quickly jetting out of the van was a curly, blonde-haired girl – who you knew was Riley. “Daddy!” She sobbed out, running out of the woman’s arms into straight into Cooper’s, his hands chained in front of him. Riley didn’t waste a second to hug Cooper tightly, pressing her tear-stained face into his chest. It was a bittersweet moment; From what Cooper always told you, Riley was his little girl, always valuing his opinion on topics and learning the ways of the world from him. He was wrapped around her finger, and silently it was killing him that this may be the last time he was ever going to see her. Cooper leaned his chin against Riley’s head, kissing the top softly, savoring the moment before it was ripped away. “Riley, come here sweetie,” Rachel called out, causing Riley to pull away as she ran. The SWAT officers hands tightened against Cooper’s arm, he spun around to stare at his family one more time before being loaded into the paddy wagon.

Before that door shut, Cooper held your gaze with a primal glare, causing your heart to quicken. A smirk lined his lips as the door shut, only able to see him through the small window of the wagon. You didn’t feel upset or scared that Cooper was going away, because you knew it was bullshit. That look told you everything you needed to know, and it made you excited. Throwing the hood of Cooper’s jacket over your head, you made your way back to your home, locking the back and front door – closing and locking the windows, heading straight for bed.

-----

Time ticked away as the lights started to die out; The warmth of your salt lamp omitting off cozy energy. Snuggled beneath the comforter, you watched as the last of the police officers and journalists left. The neighborhood had enough craziness for one day, to hear utter silence put you at peace. Everything felt good again; No animosity lingered in the air. But things still felt off, not having Cooper by your side. Watching him get taken away by the police made you sad – but seeing how he said he loved you, made everything so much better. You would wait for him, no matter how long it was going to be. If you had to wait eternity for him, you’d wait two. Cooper was everything to you, and you knew you’d never find love like him again. Even with abandonment heavy on your mind, this time felt different. It wasn’t a slow pullback like everyone else does. No, this was so much less. The look in Cooper’s eyes was a guarantee that he would be with you soon enough, and you’d wait forever to have that.

You felt yourself drifting off to sleep at the thoughts of him, how the previous night he held you close to his chest, playing with your hair as he hummed softly to you. It put you at great ease, feeling so domestic for the first time. The way his right hand boxed you into him, laying right against your stomach. His left was tucked under his head, his chin perched on your shoulder. It was almost as if you could feel the warmth of him now, holding you tightly, peppering kisses along your hairline. His hand snaking its way under your shirt to touch you, rubbing little hearts into your flesh as you sink deeper into him. His broad chest your safe haven, his lips your solace in this dark world, as they move their way down your cheek, to your bare shoulder. “You’re never getting rid of me that easily, princess.” Cooper whispered into your ear, causing your eyes to fling open.

Cooper could feel you tense at the realization he was here, with you, instead of locked up. The excitement vibrating off of you as he helped you turn around. Even with the low light of the lamp next to your bed, you could make out every single feature of Cooper’s face. The lines around his eyes as he smiled at you, the creases of his mouth as his grin grows wider, the softness in his irises as they track a path over your facial features. “I will never leave you, sweet girl. I am with you forever.” Cooper’s voice cracked with emotion as his tears started to fall, the sob slipping from your lips evident enough. Perching against Cooper, you let your lips collide with his in a heated manner, feeling the ever-growing love between the two of you blossomed. The world was gone, silent compared to the beating of two hearts. The autumn light turning into tendrils of golds, browns, and silver cascading through the air, glittering with every touch Cooper laid upon your body. He was your home, he is your safety. He is your world, and nothing could take him from you. “I’m here to stay.” You knew he meant it too. Cooper Adams was a thing of the past, a monster that the media wanted to portray. Cooper Abbott on the other hand was a family man, who was desperately in love with his girl. Philadelphia is where you two made your home, but your true adventure starts with the move to Minnesota. Your future now getting started.

Tagging Taglist: @rubyfruitjungle @cherryinterlude @lilly3434 @amethystblackkchaos @rosaleelovesdilfs @babygorewhore @dirtylittlefairytales @redpillbluepill @strangererotica @minedofmoria @hibiskooks @fore45fore @lustskitty69

Cooper Adams: @lunaluvsu @rplver @kissofdawn666 @rottenangel

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giorno-plays-piano · 1 year

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The Lovers That Went Wrong

Pairing: psycho!Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings: soft!yandere, kidnapping, threats, non-consensual confinement, manipulation, allusion to noncon, hurt/comfort.

Words: 2.4k

Summary: You flinch involuntarily as you watch him open the door to your room and take a cautious step inside as if he's keeping a dangerous animal as a pet, not a whole other human being. His eyes light up at the sight of you immediately when he sees you at the very same spot where he left you in the morning, still chained, no signs of misbehaving like throwing things around and destroying the furniture. You're not the type.

P.S. Our reader is safe and sound, no physical harm whatsoever.

P.P.S. It's not me, it's those yandere ASMRs on Youtube!

_________

He's here.

You've heard the key turning in the lock. Then, one more key in one more lock. Finally, the third lock has been opened, and then he goes to unlatch the second door before you hear him step inside, carrying something.

Is he going to kill you today?

Trying not to move, you take a shaky breath, eyes on the door. He's going to come in any second, and you don't know how to act to keep him happy. Is there a way to keep someone like him content at all? He's... not normal, that's for sure. Even if you smile and pretend to be fine, chained to his bed with so little room to move left you can't even reach the door, you think he'll see right through it and become angry at you for lying.

Not that ignoring or, god, getting angry at him gonna work either. If anything, making him mad at you is probably the most stupid option you can choose. So you don't. Albeit you wouldn't have the courage for that even if it did change anything for the better.

"I'm home."

You flinch involuntarily as you watch him open the door to your room and take a cautious step inside as if he's keeping a dangerous animal as a pet, not a whole other human being. His eyes light up at the sight of you immediately when he sees you at the very same spot where he left you in the morning, still chained, no signs of misbehaving like throwing things around and destroying the furniture. You're not the type. You're the type to sit and shake in the corner and cry till you feel like your head will explode.

"Hello," you murmur quietly, showing neither anger nor happiness at his return. Keeping the most neutral expression at times when you feel like a rabbit in front of a snake is torture, but better this than having him turn psychotic again.

He smiles at you, exhaling loudly like he was worried you'd start messing things up in his absence. "I see you've been good. That's nice. Thank you."

Nodding, you make yourself eat your words about all anxiety and fear you've had to endure today just to stay sane and stop crying. Being good, huh? Does he have any idea what it feels like to be locked in an apartment of someone who threatened to kill your classmates if you didn't go with him? What it felt like when he had pulled out a knife out of his backpack with a manic gleam right in front of your face and said he needed you to come with him if you didn't want anyone hurt?

You still don't understand how everything happened out of the blue. Aemond... never seemed unstable. He was quiet, sure, and he didn't hang out with other classmates much, but neither did you. He often sat at the back of the classroom, listening to professors with a blank look on his face, and seemed to slack off, then somehow miraculously pass the exams. You've never seen him doing anything special like playing sports or taking part in any university activity. He was just a quiet loner who didn't seem to enjoy studying. At one point, you thought he would drop out or change his major, but he didn't. After more than 3 years, he was still there, at the back of the classroom, sitting with a blank expression as the professors preached about the importance of the thesis for your successfull graduation and future work life.

Then, one day, he just walked up to you after the last lesson had finished while you were gathering your stuff and asked you to stay behind for a short talk. He said he needed to tell you something important. Considering you had spoken maybe five words to him throughout the whole year, you had no clue what he wanted to say, but maybe he needed help or something? You have always been good at studying, so, perhaps, he just needed your advice on his thesis.

He didn't.

Instead, he confessed he liked you and that he was concerned you were going to date someone else from your class - he gave you names of several students you had never even hanged out with - and then he pulled a huge, sharp knife out of his backpack. When you panicked, he grabbed your hand and whispered with that crazed look on his face that he would go and stab your classmates hanging out in the hallway if you didn't go with him.

So you did. You let him take you away, shaking at the thought that he put a knife in the large sewn-in picket inside his heavy bomber, ready to take it the moment you went back on your promise. He was going to stab someone, wasn't he? Given his height and strength, he might have even murdered someone. All because you refused to go with him.

When you think of it now, you wonder what would have happened if you attracted the attention of someone's on the way. Would Aemond really stab them with a knife, given the psychotic state he was in? Would he put a knife through your stomach? Or was it just bluff, and he'd drop the knife and run away, never to bother you again?

You'll never know now. You were so concerned about someone getting hurt you ended up in the apartment of a psychopath with your leg chained to his bed. It seems surreal, like it's all one big prank that's been going for far too long.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," he says, placing a plastic bag with what smells like pasta or lasagna on a little table next to the door. "Work has been hectic, but I'm cutting down my hours to spend more time with you, so you don't have to worry."

You nod, trying not to tremble like a leaf. Spending more time with you? Great. He will kill you soon once he has enough. Don't this kind of guys always do that? They catch their prey, have fun, and then finish them off only to fixate on somebody else again.

That's what's going to happen to you.

"I'll go take a shower real quick, alright?" He asks as if your opinion actually matters, walking by the bed as you instantly move further away on the floor, your back bumping against the bed.

He pauses, turning to you fully as you bite down on your tongue not to let out a sound.

"What is it, baby?" He coos, getting down to you while you stare at your knees, afraid to lift your head and see him staring you in the face. "What happened?"

You flinch as he stretches his hand to you, and he has to pause for a second again before his palm gently lands on the top of your head. He doesn't beat you. Or, well, not yet. Despite him not hurting you within the two days you've been here, you expect him to get violent at one point. Psychos always are, right?

You mumble, worried you'll make him upset, "I'm sorry. It's nothing."

He sighs, to your horror, sitting down right in front of you. He smells like coffee and French fries, and you bite down on your lower lip, remembering he works at some café. Like other people, he has a life outside of this stuffy and yet nearly empty apartment, and in this moment, it seems so strange. That someone like him smells like another human being.

"Are you scared?" He asks in a hushed voice, careful and calm like some sort of therapist. "Is that it?"

Despite all your attempts, you feel like you will cry if he touches you again. Your throat is tight, and you can't speak, so you just nod again, head bowed so you can't see his face.

He sighs again, and you hear him shifting, crawling closer to you like a spider as you squeeze your eyes shut. Will he hit you? Rape you? Do something worse? It's only logical to suppose that. In the end, that's what they do in the movies, don't they? Since Aemond is clearly insane, that's what he'll do to you.

But then, when he sits next to you with his back pressed against the bed's leg, you feel his hands on your shoulder nudging you tenderly towards him, and you don't fight him when he makes you put your head on his chest. Today he wears a long, soft black hoodie that smells like fries, too. It's nice to the touch.

"It's alright," he whispers, making you lean onto him until you are nearly on top of him while he caresses your head. "I know it's sudden for you. You probably don't even know who I am, and then I just come and confess to you like that. It's unfair, I know. I'm sorry I couldn't wait a bit longer."

Yeah, as if it's the problem.

But you don't say anything, eyes closed, as you freeze against his hoodie.

"But, you know, it got so much better. Today a customer splashed me with coffee and sad some really hurtful things, and I didn't even care," you can nearly sense him greening before he drops a quick kiss to the top of your head. "Because I was thinking of you. Waiting for me home, sleeping in my bed, wearing my clothes. I don't remember when anyone last waited me home, you know? And now there's you."

You feel his breath on your skin before he leaves a chaste kiss on your brow, and you curl into yourself even more.

"Thank you for being here with me. I know it wasn't easy for you to trust me, but you still did." He exhales slowly, probably tired after the day in the university and at work, his other hand resting on your back, caressing you through the thick tissue of his dark green sweatshirt he gave you this morning. "Thank you."

You're glad he can't see your face because you are ready to cry any second now. You are scared, and your legs hurt from staying in this position for too long, but Aemond's touch is still comforting, and you yearn someone's body warmth just to ground yourself in this moment to keep you sane.

You are so, so tired. You don't want to die. You want to believe the things he said, the promises he made to you, but he's mad, and so are you if you really want to trust him.

Minutes fly by. You have no idea how much time you spend in his arms, but Aemond seems content, arms still wrapped around you. What is he thinking now? What does he want to do to you? He didn't force himself on you yesterday, but he can tonight. It's just a matter of time, really. And when he finds it's enough, what's gonna happen then?

"Please, don't kill me," you mutter quietly in his chest, eyes squeezed shut.

Your voice startles him awake. Apparently, he was almost lulled to sleep, and now he bends his head towards you again, taking your face in his palms to make you look at him. "What was that? Baby?"

It's torture to open your eyes when his face is inches away from yours, but you do, and then you cry. "Please, don't kill me."

The next second, he opens his pretty blue eyes wide as if you've just slapped him, discomfort clear on his pretty face. What? Is he unhappy you ruined his idyllic evening? Why does he look at you so distressed?

He puts some distance between you two, hands on your shoulders while he looks at you as you're sniffing, tears running down your face. You can't stand it. How long do you have to play his sweetheart before he cuts you in pieces and puts your remains in black plastic bags to dump somewhere deserted? Will he kill you quickly? Will he taunt you and mock you for not even looking at him at university? Will he try to prolong your suffering with drugs?

He shakes when he starts to speak, "I've never wanted to kill you. Never. Why would you think that?"

You let out a laugh at that, hands grasping his black hoodie you like so much. Why would you think a guy who threatened to kill your classmates wouldn't cut you in pieces, too? You have been chained to his bed for two days. It's nice to still be able to go to the bathroom, but that's about it. You have only a couple of books he brought for you to keep you company when he's gone, and god knows how long it's all going to last.

His grip on you gets tighter. "I swear I've never wanted to hurt you. Why did you think that? It's the knife thing yesterday, right? You got scared because I said I'm gonna cut Josh and Matteo." He gets more frantic, and you feel like you're struggling to breathe. "But I wouldn't do that to you. No! I swear. I've never wanted to make you feel bad. And the chain... I-I'm sorry about the chain and everything, but I wasn't going to keep you like this forever! It's... it's just for a couple of months, you know? So you get to know me better. I'm never going to hurt you! You're not my pet to discipline you or something. You're... "

He realizes the state he's in and makes himself stop, lips pressed tightly as he waits, regaining his composure as he's awkwardly trying to wipe away your tears with his sleeve.

Making some small soft noises, he sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck before he's ready to speak. God, why do you want to believe him so badly? Why would anything he say make any sense at all? Why are you hoping he really won't do anything when you have just been kidnapped and imprisoned in his home?

When he speaks again, his soothing voice makes you want to hide your face in his hoodie despite all the things he's done. "I really, really like you, baby. I know it's not much, but it's true. You never have to worry about getting hurt again as long as you're with me. It's a promise."

He coos at you, craddling you in his lap, and you have no strength left to do anything but lean closer to him and hide your face in his soft hoodie.

__________

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #yandere #ewan nation #hotd #house of the dragon #the house of the dragon

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bugs1nmybrain · 3 months

Text

Bipolar!Tomura x Reader

Warning: Bipolar Disorder (implied to be type 1), gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, Shigaraki is mean to the reader, psychotic symptoms, substance use (weed and alcohol), short

note: Shigaraki refers to himself as "being bipolar." I'm aware this is pejorative language, but it made sense for the context of Shigaraki's condition in this story. I also have Bipolar Disorder for reference.

The TV was barely audible over the obnoxiously loud video game music and sound effects coming from Tomura's bedroom. It wasn't like he was ever quiet, but this loud? The neighbors might mistake you two for having a break-in. It definitely didn't help when Tomura would cuss out his screen.

"are you fucking KIDDING ME?! You SCUMBAG CHEAT FUCK!!"

You weren't unused to him talking shit to people on voicechat. It's just he was particularly erratic at the moment. You wanted to check in on him but you weren't sure if that was appropriate. The stabbing decibels would surely blast you away.

Suddenly, all the sounds stop, only leaving the sound of your ears faintly ringing from the absence. It was soon that you smelt..*sniff* .. pot. You hoped he had a fan going and you also wished he'd share. Tomura was already on it though. He opened the door to his room and zipped into the kitchen. With his joint still burning in his hand, he reached up into the cupboard to grab a glass and then a bottle of whiskey. Damn, maybe he should ask for some help?

You watched as he attempted to open the bottle, with his joint in his left hand. His quirk certainly was to be taken accounted for, and he knew it too, because he got too impatient and dusted away the cap, only for the disintegration to fall into the bottle.

"fuck," he said abruptly, but just decided to pour the alcohol in his glass, dust particles included.

"Tomu?" you questioned, watching him try to multitask putting the shit back while smoking his joint.

"Yea, I know, I'll share. Just hang'on."

"Can I help you?"

"Uh.." he spent a moment pondering as if it was a weighted decision. "Here, hold my joint."

You walked over to him and took it from his hands. You contemplated if you really wanted to smoke now, given his state. You knew early on that Tomura had a condition and this wasn't the first time you'd seen him manic. The fact that he wasn't on medication also meant that his episodes could get carried away, and he'd scare you. Not because he was scary...or maybe he was, but you knew it was because he had tripped into a heavy episode.

Tomura turned back to face you when he was done, noticing the joint burn down.

"Why aren't you smoking?" He asks. His tone was normal, though a little jumpy.

"I don't really wanna."

"Why? I don't like smoking by myself. Makes me feel like shit."

"You seem restless."

"Mm, how'd you guess?" He said with a blissfully agitated staring at you.

"Like..you're fast."

"I'm so speedy fast wanna watch me?"

"When's the last time you slept?"

Shigaraki paused and tried to sort through his recent memories but he was unsure. "Uh, maybe..five? Five days ago? I've probably had a nap or two though."

"Maybe we should calm down. Do you wanna watch a movie?"

"Why're you talking to me like a kid?"

"I'm not, I'm worr-"

"Yea I know that, I can tell it's all over your fucking face. Listen, I'm well aware I'm batshit crazy right now but I'm NOT some tragedy, alright?"

"I didn't mean it that way," you stood shaking, trying to fight back your eyes watering.

Tomura sighed seeing you standing scared in front of him. He'd been trying to be fine for weeks. Tomura was never "fine," but when he was paranoid, hyper, determined, and careless beyond proper function, it was a major hindrance. Impacted his goals, though he was great at brainstorming when he was manic.

"You meant it. I'm not even like, mad. I don't know why this happens though, you've seen it before, right?"

"I have. Tomura, can I say something without you getting pissed?"

"What?"

"I think you have Bipolar Disorder."

"Oh really? Turn in your psychiatric report because I'm sure I'm many other things too!"

Tomura huffs and plops down on the living room couch. His adoptive father never gave him access to anything like mental health treatment. AFO told Tomura himself that issues of this matter where only problems that could help his passion for destruction. But Tomura would even admit, being manic beyond belief was scary. He heard voices, saw things that weren't there, sometimes his family, and it was a total living nightmare.

You snuck up behind the couch and began playing with his hair gently. He let out a "hm?", confused considering he just raised his voice at you.

"I just say it because I notice patterns. Like you'll be motivated and nonstop for weeks and then super depressive and bummed out. And it repeats over and over. Usually within the same time frames, too. I'm not trying to insult you, but it might explain things, right?"

You ran your fingers through his scalp. It was definitely a while since his last shower, too. His hair was greasy and dry, but you kept touching him. You could feel him relax into your fingers and whine.

"Sounds like bullshit. I'm not taking any pills."

"I'm not telling you to."

"Well, are you leaving or something? Gonna punish me for being Bipolar?

"No. I want to help you."

"Ain't you some fucking hero."

"I mean it. I can tell you're overwhelmed and just need some sleep or something. I'm not mad Tomura, I never was, I just want you to be ok."

His shoulders began to tense and shake a little. He may have been tearing up but you didn't look and he sat silent.

"Can we order pizza and play Mario Kart, instead? I don't wanna just sit. I'm too awake."

"Yes, baby. I can make a pillow fort!"

"Fuck yessss. Um. I'm also really sorry for yelling at you that wasn't cool."

"I understand Tomu."

You ruffled his hair and kissed his head quick before bolting off to grab your phone but he pulled you down to his lap before you could escape! mwah-ha-ha!

"Stay here for a bit."

"You're trapping me!!" You protested.

"You want me to settle down? Then stay."

Tomura rested his head against yours and held you like you were a stuffed animal. Soon, you could feel his body relax and heard snoring. You turned to see Tomura finally sleeping, but decided to sit still and drift off with for the rest of the night.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shiggy x reader #shigaraki angst #bipolar shigaraki

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heaven4lostgirls · 1 year

Note

Hi, hello, hope you're doing great :)

I just wanted to ask if its okay to request a fluffy Barty Crouch Jr x reader? Something in their hogwarts years, maybe something with the two practising for quidditch together even though they're in different houses (or something of the sort)

If you don't end up doing this that's completely fine, he just needs more fics if u ask me

nobody knows me like you

barty crouch jr x hufflepuff!reader

warnings: fluff!! fluff!!! so much fluff, barty is so soft

a/n: i loved this ask!! sorry it took so long to get out x

The wind was loud and harsh the higher that you flew, your quidditch robes did little to nothing for warmth however it seemed that it didn’t even seem to faze Barty as he laughed manically at your shivering almost pale form. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy quidditch it was more the harsh winter conditions that didn’t agree with your body however your boyfriend seemed to have no problem with it.

“I told you we should have just snuck into the kitchens, its literally right next to Hufflepuff’s common room” you complained through chattering teeth however all Barty did was grin at you slyly. “Then how would I beat your ass at quidditch?” he winked, and you had the urge to push him off of his broom, but you knew that idiot would probably find it funny. He truly was your greatest annoyance however for some reason you two worked together, how that happened you and everyone in Hogwarts were left confused.

It truly started after a potions class were you two were paired up, Barty and his usual dumbass ideas lead to something going wrong and both of you in the hospital wing for the next week. At first you were rightly annoyed at him for messing up your mark however after a heartfelt apology and midnight whispered chats in each other’s beds you soon found out that Barty was actually an alright person, he was funny, a little psychotic but very sweet when he wanted to be. Honestly the both of you just clicked the moment you both started getting to know one another.

“C’mon we only have a couple of minutes before we have to get ready for dinner” he whined as you slowly flew around the pitch, you rolled your eyes but conceded. You played for Hufflepuff as one of the best seekers Hogwarts had seen while Barty was truly a ruthless beater, he had only gotten into quidditch because of Regulus who was Slytherin’s seeker. You both flew around and spent some time throwing some bludgers to Barty to help him practice his swing. He looked really good sweaty and panting but you knew bringing that up would only inflate his ego, which truly was already big enough as is.

“Let’s head back, my arm is starting to hurt from catching your bloody wild bludgers Crouch” you say while rotating your arm. “Those wild bloody bludgers are going to take your teammates out next match love” he smirks as he flies closer to you before snatching your am closer to take a look if you’ve been bruised or hurt in any way. “Not with your shit aim” his smile drops before he yanks you onto his broom. You squeal before you meet his pout with a cold glare. “Bastard, I could’ve fallen” you grumble, and you see his lips twitch before his pout becomes bigger.

“Tell me I have good aim or I’m not letting you shower before dinner” his puppy dog eyes have come into play at this point. You smirk amused “if you do that you realise neither of us are going to shower right?”. He nods seriously and you have to hold yourself back from letting out a sign. You are an idiot is practically what your smile says. I know his grin answers back. “Your aim is not that shit” you say begrudgingly. His smile is almost blinding, not many people see this side to your boyfriend, the most they get really is a few laughs and smiles around Cas, Ev, Reg and Pan but otherwise he’s mostly known as a stone cold Slytherin whose father is the Minister of Magic.

“I’m going to ignore that you didn’t say what I asked you to say in favour of kissing you” he declares before pressing his lips against yours. You’re not shocked because this is generally typically how most of your physical affection happens, it used to bother you before when he didn’t ask but after a quick talk with him you often found yourself finding it surprisingly sweet. You smile into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck before you remember you’re literally a couple hundred feet above ground and you pull away.

“Get me down right now before I hex you” he smirks “...Bartemius” it drops. You cackle playfully as he carries you both to the pitch with an annoyed huff. Once you reach the ground you try to run off to the Hufflepuff common room in order to hopefully shower before heading to the great hall, but Barty has other plans as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Shower together?” he muses as if he’s in thought. You’re about to tell him no because you both know you won’t get anything done and before you can he nods and picks you up. “I think so”.

#juliwrites #harry potter #marauders #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch junior #barty jr #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #fluff #hurt/comfort #barty crouch jr fluff

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ameliaenya707 · 12 days

Text

We Cry Together

Day one

Hours went by, the cool bathroom tile against your palms as you sat in the dark room. The soft drip of the leaky sink faucet and the gentle hum of your own thoughts fill your ears. Nothing felt real, this certainly didn’t feel real. Everything happened so fast. He….Hawks was…it hurt to think about. Emotionally sure but you could feel a splitting stress headache thump in your skull whenever you came too close to a logical conclusion.

The logical conclusion, he’s fucking psychotic.

But it just was too much.

That was the man who cooed over you after rough nights, pet your hair as he hummed you to sleep. The man who vacuumed down fried chicken like it was a sport, who sneakily stole dumplings off your plate the nights you were too lazy to cook. Every part of your body was itching. Itching to humanize him, keep him in the view you always held him. When you saw him at the store, you tried so hard to convince yourself that you were crazy. Paranoid. But he was stalking you, wasn’t he? Everything was crumbling but your breath stayed leveled, your eyes closed.

You weren’t sleeping, you couldn’t afford to. But you had heard somewhere that if you let your eyes rest and stayed still, it still rested your body enough. Probably not as much as real sleep but it was the next best thing. You didn’t know how long you’d been hunched over, trying not to focus on the sick feeling boiling in your gut. Pretty bursts of white painted across the black whenever you closed your eyes making you feel like you were spinning. When you blinked your eyes open the next time light was filtering through the cracks of the boards covering the windows.

Keys jingled as a door creaked shut just hallways down. You glanced down at your palm, red and swollen. Before you had slumped down on the floor hours before, you had scoured through drawers and accidentally sliced your palm on a shard of glass. It hurt enough to distract you from the nausea in your stomach. Your head lifts abruptly when the bathroom door opens and heavy footsteps come in. Every nerve in your body shot alive but you willed your breath down. Your eyes trained on Hawks as he crouched down to your level. His eyes looked tired…

“Watcha doin' in here baby bird, I bought brand new sheets just for you to not even sleep in the bed? Well…whatever, just glad to see you again sweet girl.”

You flinched away when his hand came up to touch your cheek and you didn’t miss the flicker of irritation behind his amber eyes. With a sigh, he rummaged through a plastic bag he had in one hand.

“I got you food, something nice and warm.” He pulled out a container of rolled omelets. The plastic cover was dripping with condensation from the hot food inside. He was crazy if he thought you would be taking anything from him. Genuinely who did he think he was?! You felt crazy because this entire situation was so ridiculous. IT FELT SO RIDICULAS. You couldn’t help but break into a manic fit of laughter because what was any of this?! It was nonsense!

The confusion etched on his face only spurred on your rage, sleep deprivation-induced laughter. Your eyes grew blurry with tears, your stomach twisting in knots as your ribs ached to their core from how hard your body shook. Your hand raised without thought before slapping right across his cheek. You felt the sting of your cut burn when your palm met his face with a force you wouldn’t have enacted if you were a smidge more lucid. If you had cared about your safety a smidge more. Laughter quickly turned into a scream when he grasped your wrist, twisting it harshly. His other hand grabs your chin and forces you to blink up at him.

“Are you done?”

You didn’t know him. That voice. Too sharp to be Hawks. TO CRUEL TO BE HIS. Everything screamed to run but you were boxed in by four walls, a tile floor, and a popcorn ceiling decorated with cobwebs.

“Y-.....yeah…”

Your soft mumble made him let go of your wrist. Something you stupidly mistook as mercy until his hand fisted in your hair, not too hard but enough of a tug to keep you silent. You saw his eyes soften as his thumb came up to brush away one of the tears slipping from your eyes. But it didn’t look like sympathy. The small smile that played on his face made it seem like a fraction of himself enjoyed seeing you so hurt and broken down.

Maybe it was the part of him that liked control. You could never claim you knew everything about him. Why he did every small thing he did. But you’d been with him long enough to see how little control he actually had over his life. There was something bigger that had him under their thumb. Maybe hurting you made him feel…more in control. But then why couldn’t the same apply to him being gentle? It used to. Didn’t it?

Tears fell harder on the bathroom floor, ones he couldn’t brush away quick enough to ignore the existence of.

“Fuck,”

More chapters

#💕 mel's dark content #bnha #bnha x reader #dark content #bnha x you #mha x reader #hawks x you

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singlecrow · 11 months

Text

notes on watching Goodbye Farewell Amen for the first time since 2003, by singlecrow aged whatever. there’s also some stuff here I’ve put elsewhere, sorry you’re having it twice if you are.

Anyway it’s really GOOD, like, I know, other people have observed that in the last 50 years but it IS. Funny, sad, clever, textured, and also a really good episode of MASH? It has the things that one ought to have, like people talking over each other and tanks being driven into things and latrines and shouting. And in places it’s beautiful and eerie: everything about the bus journey is impeccable; and the shots of the bus coming in from the hills with the light coming through the glass were really something.

And then there’s Hawkeye. Oh god. you can’t do this, though, if you’re not this show. Eleven years, telling us right at the start in a funny voice and in the middle in a dead serious voice and then then quite often in a funny voice again, Hawkeye is… not very well. He’s fine. He lives in a war zone and is surprisingly fine. But Hawkeye has that immeasurable fragility, and it’s there, and you know it’s there because we’ve told you so, and it’s the kind of fragility that comes with being often-manic, very depressed, empathetic to the point of unreason. Crucially: it’s a sitcom. Hawkeye has entire episodes of him playing poker, sending telegrams to President Truman, kissing Margaret, and ordering spare ribs from Chicago and winning a tank in a bet. And a bunch of other stuff. It’s very funny.

But still. But still and all, for all it’s very funny. This episode needs less than a minute of set-up - an outdoor shot of somewhere that isn’t the usual place, and then Hawkeye sitting on the floor in a dark room, looking at Sidney, and you know. You always knew. This is it, for Hawkeye; this is where all roads have led.

(In 2003, I don’t think I knew to notice the camera lingering, as it does several times, on the locked door.)

Hawkeye is what I’ve carried with me all my life. Probably bipolar, always sleepless. I was fourteen and it was 2001 the first time I picked out Sidney’s line, elsewhere in the show’s timeline: “Actually, Hawkeye, I think you’re the sanest person I’ve ever known”. Hawkeye believed it and I chose to believe it too.

So does it undercut that, that my talisman of sanity ends up on the floor in the institution? No. Because Hawkeye gets up off the floor again. He is always fragile; he’s always hurt. And I actually really enjoy that, in its way. Hawkeye crying or screaming (or laughing) is always unpretty, because it’s like how real people do those things; and here, Sidney gets Hawkeye out of the institution but he’s still lost. He would be. He’s still manic if not psychotic, and desperately sad. (Sidebar: this - this! - is when he gets his most Exceptionally Bisexual line in the entire series, presumably because this is also his most Exceptional Disaster.) He cheers up a bit at the prospect of the wedding, because he does love a wedding.

So, fragile, yes. But I do believe that Hawkeye went home and picked up the threads of his life, and maybe he began like someone else did, hurt beyond the capacity of homeland to heal. There’s the crucial crack in Hawkeye’s nature; where you find the story. Is Hawkeye like Frodo Baggins, to diminish and go into the West, or not?

And the thing is, I think they’re an apt comparison. They have, remarkably, a similar cultural weight; enough of an exerted pressure on the fabric of the Western twentieth century. The wars that Frodo and Hawkeye came home from were all of eight years apart. And you step within the narrative and they’re both… some guy. Someone who had to do a thing they didn’t want to do, that needed to be done although it wasn’t their fault and nothing to do with them. Frodo goes home, and the Shire has been saved, but not for him. He can’t stay. He never finds himself again.

But I believe that Hawkeye will. He doesn’t end this episode still institutionalised, or even still frighteningly mentally ill; he ends up exhausted and sad and damaged and on his way home. And it’s like this show to leave this as a question that may or may not have an answer: can Hawkeye shatter that archetype, be not broken but more gold than cracks? He goes back to his own job, though it’s hard. He tells people he loves them. He says goodbye to Sidney with a quiet word of thanks. And when the time comes, he says goodbye to the others and goes. It is an open question: but this is MASH, which answers all such questions with love, and affection, and courage and care. Small things matter in dark places. Hawkeye’s great tragedy is that he’s the main character - a remarkable man but an ordinary one, a small-town doctor who doesn’t want to be in this terrible place - and the show necessarily makes an example of him. Here’s what happens to ordinary, good people, who did their best and didn’t deserve it. But then, if ordinary, then ordinary recovery, with love and care and time, and ordinary life.

#mash #hawkeye pierce #goodbye farewell amen

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

Note

I'm probably gonna regret attaching my name to this but I slept on it and I'm still really upset but now more coherent (so please delete this if it's unwelcome).

First of all I'm really sorry you're dealing w this shit. I hope you're taking care of yourself rn.

Second of all.... holy fuck Inneskeeper has handled this horribly. I'm trying to extend the benefit of the doubt and say he just needs time, we all do, but it's very hard when he's been acting as though a day is enough time for everyone to get over the fear he spread.

It's really upsetting to see him bring up both his schizophrenia and his career as reasons why he was upset without ever actually uttering the words "I'm sorry, I was wrong." without needing to read between the lines.

It's a really concerning trend I've noticed reappearing now that actual celebrities and just plain old popular users are becoming more open with their mental health, that "I was having a psychotic break/I was having a manic episode/I was blah-de-blah" somehow taking the place of an actual apology. As if explaining it means you no longer have to take action or responsibility.

Especially given he was bringing up his profession during all this. As a professional especially he has a responsibility. I know "this is tumblr" but this is TUMBLR. People don't fact-check. You have sway. Especially as a professional.

He could've made the post unrebloggable, but if he did I haven't seen it. He could've pinned a post that actually contained information/a retraction/a quick apology and explanation, instead we got "I'm taking a break". He edited the post, but given part of his defense was that reblog chains are uncontrollable an edit you would not see unless you clicked back to his blog is...

I'm really hoping that once he comes back he'll say something. Because I know parasocial relationship and all that but I really did respect him, as someone transgender and with some of my specific mental illnesses in a field I'm deeply interested in.

But now I'm just... tired. He spread that same cycle of panic and delusion to everyone who read that post. Here I was thinking that I just got my dog back from the vet and now she and everyone else I love was going to die, that the apocalypse was coming.

Until I did the googling he as an actual ecologist did not do. As if me taking a tumblr post and freaking is less acceptable than him taking a twitter post and freaking.

I don't want to cancel him or bully him. I don't doubt that he's gotten some ableist nonsense, because the internet sucks. But he really hurt a lot of people and did a lot of damage. All I want is him to plainly say "I'm sorry, I did it because [x/y/z] but it was still wrong and I hurt people. Here is some actual information. I'm going to log off." Without a billion asterisks.

And honestly maybe apologize for siccing people on you but frankly given how hard my opinion of him has tanked I'm not gonna hold my breath.

I'm fine. The block button is a wonderful thing.

My feelings are mixed. Yes, I see that it would be terrifying to have your mental illness warp your perception of an event, but...you're not the only mentally ill person on Earth, and it's no less terrifying to be triggered into an episode by false information.

I have been asked by several followers to trigger tag #unreality because that kind of thing really messes with them. And the post was framed in a particularly triggering way—encouraging conspiratorial thinking by saying that there's a "media blackout" and that the official sources are downplaying the severity.

The post is still circulating as of this morning, and the misleading version is still hitting people's dashes and suckering people in. Why would you not just make it unrebloggable?

I don't know. I really don't know what to think of the whole thing.

The Twitter OP makes me honestly furious, claiming that "the cops" "blew it up" when it was first responders putting their lives in danger to stop the burning train cars from exploding. It's so frustrating to see people acting like they're calling it a "controlled burn" to cover up idiotic mismanagement. The crews that responded to this accident at great potential risk to their lives don't deserve to be called cops and slandered for making the best decision they could have possibly made.

In general it's worrying how folks on social media are responding—by encouraging paranoia and mistrust by attributing malice or idiocy to the people trying to manage the accident.

Folks say "fuck cops" but they can't distinguish cops from firefighters and hazardous materials crews working to save lives. That's scary to me.

I don't think we know enough yet to ascertain the causes of the accident, but I want to caution against looking for a specific party to blame as being at fault, because...these things can happen even when we do everything right. As long as we use these hazardous chemicals to make things, this is always a possibility.

And it's not necessarily a "preventable" failure of society that we make and use PVC, either. One of the causes of how widespread plastics are is that they are genuinely useful materials with properties that no other materials have. PVC pipe is what probably makes the plumbing in your house. Before PVC, there was copper, which is incredibly expensive, has a tendency to burst with temperature changes, and corrodes and reacts with various chemicals.

And the sad fact is, environmental disasters like this happen a lot. Many of them worse than this.

Not too far from where I live, there was a case where tons of radioactive waste were dumped into a municipal landfill. This radioactive waste was being handled by workers who didn't know what it was and had no protection. This was a case of malicious dodging of regulations. Mining coal creates radioactive and toxic waste that is constantly mismanaged. I was doing reports on local environmental news for my geology class a while back and many of the coal mines in Eastern Kentucky have a hundredfold violations of environmental and safety regulations, and companies usually dodge responsibility.

I hope this incident inspires people to think and talk about environmental regulations and rights of workers in the rail industry. What with the railroad strikes going on, I think it's worth considering that this is why we need to look out for the welfare of rail workers—you want the people handling the shipment of hazardous chemicals to be well rested and well protected.

#environmental disaster #ohio train derailment

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torturingpeople · 15 days

Text

OC SMASH OR PASS

RULES: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

i was tagged by @letters-of-fire! thank you so much ^_^ @staring-at-my-keyboard and @your-friend-s-santos i nominate you both :-)

Edison Hollingsworth, the Sybaritic Laureate

AGE: 34

GENDER: Male (?)

SEXUALITY: Pansexual Demiromantic

PROS:

extremely skilled and ridiculously experienced on account of his job literally being a prostitute

very comfortable with him body and with anything you wish to do to it

can be a top or a bottom depending on what you want! usually he tops but you can get him to submit occasionally

very high stamina. can go for hours if you can keep up with that!

he's really sexy. obviously. i mean Look at him. he has MOLES. EVERYWHERE.

open to anything - all genders, threesomes/groups, kinks - and wrt that doesn't have many boundaries to being involved with him

big on dirty talk, likes to fill the silence with it

will probably write poems about you

never goes past a no-strings-attached casual surface-level relationship

a god at reading body language and will know what you want way before you ask for it

will work hard to treat you or buy you gifts occasionally when he can

???:

biter. will bite

doesn't stop yapping he will talk your ear off in the bedroom

massive tease. links with the talking thing

threesomes can be a bit tense after if it was an existing couple

very stubborn. you can get him to sub but i wish you good luck with that

often attempts to get his clients drunk or high before working with them

extremely flirtatious with everyone i.e. you are not special

50/50 chance that he's manic during work and will probably say something mildly frightening to you in a toxic yaoi kind of way

CONS:

The Scandal

likes it best when you're terrified of him and will actively work to scare you just for his sport and profit

will publish details about everything you did and what you like in the papers ESPECIALLY if you're rich or upper class because he thinks its funny and it pays

shit at aftercare. will kind of just Clear himself up and 99% of the time will fuck off 2 minutes after you're both done

obviously not loyal. (if you're polyamorous i suppose this isn't a con but. You know)

reckless as fuck and loves the adrenaline from fear so will likely put you, himself, or both of you in some sort of harm's way for the sake of his own enjoyment

severely mentally ill. psychotic and obsessive. will probably get weirdly religious at some point

will probably stalk and harass you for a few weeks, especially if you don't contact him at all after

will hound you for payment if you were a client and he thinks you didn't pay what you owe him

needs to be told no 62 times before it stops meaning "try again later" or "convince me"

mr wines will 99% of the time not allow you to pursue a relationship with him past the parlour of virtue. getting into a serious relationship is virtually impossible

he will approach you in public if he sees you and expect you to be friendly which. again. The Scandal

definitely open to blackmailing you with things you don't want getting out about you in order to attend society events and the like

addicted to alcohol, honey, tinctures, vigours, the WORKS

if you don't devote your entire life to him and pledge to kill the neath in order to keep his affection he'll assume you don't care about him

severe abandonment issues. if he wants you to stay he will beg for it desperately like a homeless dog

broke as fuck and 99% of his money is stolen by mr wines. the other 1% pays a fraction of his rent

0 standards and will fuck anyone and everyone

#what an insane con list #LOL #i love him. he's insane and i love him #most of this is me thinking about the interactions he's had with others #namely scuba merry eckil and jj #tposts #tp ocs #games #the sybaritic laureate

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turtleneck-crowley · 6 months

Text

Wake up babes of the GO fandom turtleneck-crowley just dropped their most recent Magnus Opus🥰🥰🥰

Hey guys I am a eccentric genius artist of the century whose works will probably only be appreciated post mortem (self-diagnosed)

Im also very certain you would all blorbos me if I were a fictional character but alas I am a boring meat package that got birthed out of an afab physiology and thus a sack of mouldy potatoes might have been a more interesting source writing this post. (Pure hubris, part irrational resentment that you are all quite familiar with *cheeky hot wink*)

I happen to own a get out of jail free card called catch 22 which is crafted out of part sarcasm, part idgasinglefgtfoofmyfacei180dmycringethroughyearsofpainandselfrelctionthatim toocoolforyounow public image

(if you actually read that you deserve, well nothing actually except perhaps my condolences and a consensual pat on the back that implies my unlicensed diagnosis that you are in fact, not dyslexic)

Anyhow cracking on back to the sentence *sighs and rolls eyes with you*

(-I mean in the streets, not with you guys, here im babygirl with half a brain cell/true form), part wholesome idiocy, years of experience in masking, part looking presentable, part knowing how society and science and art works and trying to be in tact with my own sense of humanity as much as possible -at least to the point where I’m not breaking any humanitarian law…

And yes bitch the whole eccentric genius /madly passionate or passionately mad paradox catch 22 license holder is you af - want a gold star? ⭐️ (crowley ref) (affectionate banter)

Fact is tumblrinas like to heighten and balance their EQ and IQ agreed?

I’m hyper aware that you guys are smart enough to assess me as going through a manic phase that is on the verge of psychotic-having observed hints of madness in my recent posts deducing via your own experiences that I have gone through a strict diet of coffee, whiskey, smut that Neil Gaiman himself would tear his locks and Sir Terry Pratchett would roll in his grave, finished off with a nice slice of Hozier songs as dessert

(that’s on top of of a yet to be discovered food chain which I call the Antichrist diet footnote: please credit me after I die before my Tesla gets Edisoned

‘Tis actually a great alternative way to invoke a psychedelic experience in substitute of the more expensive and questionably unlawful way that is smoking crack *disclaimer not recommended for the faint hearted or those self-diagnosed as mentally stable)

You are perfectly correct! Here’s another gold star!!! ⭐️

In fact I am currently being yelled by my parents to come downstairs because I need to be dropped off to the asylum while I’m trying to actually do something that gives me joy (Joan of Arc eat your heart out) and I assure you I have eyes and witness my very legs , naked and hairy (and did I mention Im only wearing a slutty black bra and skirt that I wore as a swimming suit AND a pajama and now my back to the looney bin outfit?) leaving a perfectly good soup with baguettes as evidenced here

However, I would like to UNO reverse such a caring notion by giving you a purple heart 💜

and divert you with a fun little clip that displays our para social relationship that I am hoping has deepened through my superficial charm to portray our rendezvous as warm and familiar and human as our beloved Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson:

No worries, Watson also came with the conslusion that the person he’s engaged with (more like to amiright- not us i mean, them, that’s where the analogy is cut off back into our real identities) is “not human”

Anyhow it might not be your cup of tea but at least hold the mug for a few minutes it’s worth it

Head fic: Gods of Sex and Idiocy

(If anything please see it as a game where we can title it better cause I’m shit at naming things - I call one of my plants Joe)

Hey Good Omens fandom

With the note of:

“who needs sane when you have creative”

-turtleneck-crowley

I have made a meta season 3 in my head and the stars have even sent me a playlist ??? (It’s the only one that seems to be downloaded on my wifi less phone)

Here’s the link:

Check out some of my latest posts

It’s really immersive and otherworldly

Down the rabbit hole and through the mirror you go 🐇🎩🪄

And what if season 1 is the ace route and season 2 is the sexual route so season 3 might be an aro route to defeating the enemy?

Ngk idk idc idgaf

I’m just like phone rn

(side note: why do I have the infinite capacity of taking pains (Sherlock reference) for being a mad artist instead of working on the next big physics formula answer? Good question: I’m actually just an emotional idiot aka sexy trash ✨ that’s addicted to blogging and I wouldn’t trade it for any other praise worthy status in the world 💜)

Honestly guys I sound like a sociopath but I’m really just very pained and fucked royally by circumstance that is too dramatic and gay for anyone except the loonies on tumblr to understand. I’m so disappointed by all this unjust pain and agony of the world- the children, the animals, the environment, the people that I have conditioned myself to display an eloquence so pungent it seems like I’m a cold manipulator. For if I ever showed myself for who I was to them- the judgers, the perverted, the scheming, I would surely be dead either by my own or someone else’s hands. Maybe I’m God and they just like tumblr and good omens and want to eat crepes in peace with the personality they split into 2 -preferably in Paris. Maybe they have been placed all the blame by the enemy and they are powerless to the human condition as you all are by an unknown enemy and is fated to be tortured in anxiety and pain invisible to all and the only infinite power they have is love that bleeds.

But I’ll give you and I both the peace of mind that I am an in fact just a mentally ill human whose life span is between the zones of expiration and fermentation, with a god complex, whom their closest people will never truly know how to care no matter how much they try- and in fact the more they try to help me the more they leave me in my original state- alone.

I leave you (no I’m not killing myself you idiot I’m going to the mental hospital to be molested by nightmares of demons - I literally experience it everyday- as they force me to take my sleeping pills which sinks me deeper into it-oh wait that’s kind of worse lmao) with this favorite piece of classical music of mine

Stay safe yall I love you

#good omens #crowley #good omens fandom #Spotify #aziraphale #good omens headcanons #catch 22 #my only talent is lying (aka calling madness creativity and convincing people I’m intelligent and attractive)

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intimidating-fettuccine · 10 months

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With the creeps that have manic/psychotic episodes or anger troubles that are prone to being loud/yelling/etc when those things happen, do you think they would mind if their s/o asked someone responsible like Tim or slender to take over comforting/helping them for a while because it could trigger their s/o’s own mental health issues/disorders? Would any of them be significantly distressed (but still understanding ofc) at the lack of their s/o’s presence when they’re feeling like that? Sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol, or if u js don’t wanna answer 😭<3

Hmmmmmm. I feel like if you were to do this it would have to be Slender, because I don’t think Tim is equipped to handle things like that to be fully honest.

I think they might get a little upset specifically if they wanted to turn to you for comfort, but I don’t think it would seriously damage your relationship with any of them if you needed to get outside help.

I feel like the one most likely to be heavily upset would be Toby. If he needs a specific comfort person he neeeeds that person, so he’d probably be the most heavily distressed out of all of them and you’d have to do a fair amount of comforting when his episode is over and reassurance that you still love him and his episodes don’t push you away

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ikamigami · 5 months

Text

Okay! I found it!

I know what mainly triggers Sun's psychosis - or psychotic episode/break (remember that psychotic episode can last from hours through weeks and months even)..

..and it's *drum rolls* ✨✨Eclipse ✨✨

Before Sun killed Bloodmoon he was repeating to himself that he isn't like Eclipse.. then later Bloodmoon was saying almost the exact same things Eclipse was saying to Sun before Sun expelled Eclipse from his head.. and boom Sun shoot Bloodmoon - "pull the trigger"..

Later Sun was speaking in similar way to Eclipse and he acted like Eclipse.. Sun tried to get rid of Eclipse - "I'm just Sun-restraining you" "you want to kill people.. I let that happen, I make it happen"..

Let's talk about Murder Mistery episode with Earth, Moon, Sun and Foxy before October last year (with Ruin and BM) cause Sun was acting as if he had a psychotic episode - it's very possible that it was a short one - remember it may last hours (previous lasted months) - he was agitated, his speech was incoherent, he was acting unusual (he tried to force Earth to shoot him, he was saying some very weird things - many of them were referencing to things between him and Eclipse), sometimes he was moving a lot but at another times he was standing completely still..

He started to "freak out" when he heard that Foxy said Eclipse. Sun misheard Foxy but it led to this small psychotic break..

Now Sun snapped at Eclipse in unusual way for him.. saying that Eclipse should kill himself and that everything was Eclipse's fault and that he hates the fact that Eclipse just started existing.. it's very not like Sun..

When Sun snapped at Eclipse previously - when Eclipse had a star - it wasn't like that.. back then Sun pointed out that Eclipse has nothing beside making their life miserable and that even with such a power like newton star he still didn't do anything to them beside some annoying minor inconviniences - he wasn't a real threat..

Sun is drinking alcohol (I don't believe that he stopped drinking) so he's now more relaxed and symptoms of his disorder are dulled a little bit (he's acting more reckless though) but it is only for the time being because sooner or later alcohol will make things worse and it'll worsen symptoms and it may lead to another psychotic episode - this time worse because of alcohol - and with how Sun recently expressed that he has suicidal thoughts and it even seems that he contemplated jumping off the railing of the lighthouse Sun may end up attempting suicide.. (it is a possibilty, I'm not saying it'll happen for sure)

Eclipse being a trigger reminds me of this post of mine - read that if you want to know why I think that Sun doesn't seem to want to reach out to only Eclipse (when before he tried that with BM) and to find out why I think that Sun thinks he's Eclipse..

Also I think that Sun may most definitely have depressive psychosis is because he was depressed even before first October takeover and later his depression worsened to the point that people in YT comments started to realize that - I want to say that Sun probably has either atypical depression or high functioning depression which still is depression nonetheless, just because Sun doesn't display usual symptoms of depression it doesn't mean he doesn't have it - later he had psychotic break (while still being depressed) where the psychotic part of disorder was displayed and later he was depressed once again and he still is depressed..

Why I think Sun doesn't have bipolar disorder is because his psychotic break didn't seem like a typical manic episode where a person has delusions of grandiose..

Hence why I think that Sun's delusions are centered around guilt and unworthiness - which explains why he blames himself so much for everything and linked post also explains why I think that Sun believes himself to be evil..

Another thing is that many people wrongly assumed that Sun's determination and clear goal to kill Eclipse was proving that he was thinking clearly and that he didn't have psychotic break..

But ask yourself if Sun was thinking clearly why he didn't go prepared for his mission to kill Eclipse? He didn't take any weapon when he just could easily take even a barrel cause they still had laser canons in them at that time.. yet Sun just went straight ahead without any weapon, not knowing where to go, he didn't even had a clear plan on what to do or how to defend himself if Eclipse would attack him - it was a suicidal mission..

People just have wrong picture of how psychotic break works mainly because of movies etc. - someone who experience psychotic episode may still seem to act logical.. Also having clear goal and be determined to do something don't disprove someone having psychotic episode because then person often has a clear goal which they have to do no matter what..

Off topic - I think that what proves that Moon was dreaming is that it seemed more like a story - dream has a storyline. Unlike Sun's hallucinations which were appearing and disappearing - they weren't fluid..

#sun and moon show #sams #sams sun #sun and moon show sun #sams eclipse #tw psychotic episode #tw suicide #tw depression #tw depressive psychosis

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ask-sibverse · 8 months

Note

First meeting between reader and Swan prompt maybe?

... youuuuuuuuu (I swear to fuck you guys are gonna give me brain worms for a swapdream version of T1DReader) for extra fun read to this

Your AU was one of those aware of the multiverse. And unfortunately, the multiverse had what you could only describe as a creepy cult, ran by what was effectively a crazy god, Dream. You'd tried some of that "just think positive! Negativity sucks for everyone" bullshit, and all it did was piss you off and make you feel like no one was even trying to understand you.

Yet people are that shit up, joining Dream's cult in droves. Whatever, well, made them happy, you suppose.

And then you happened to see the crazy god chasing another skeleton through town. He looked absolutely exhausted, even his eyebags had bags. While Dream, in his full psychotic glory, was chasing him down, absolutely uncaring of how much destruction he was causing to get to said skeleton, grin wide and manic. Was this some kind of game to him or something?

You decided to help the poor skeleton, taking a chance to yank him into the shadows and somehow Dream did not manage to spot where he went. They landed on top of you, sending you both to the ground.

He looked at you, eyelights blown wide. "What-"

"Dream is a nutcase and that's an unfair chase you're stuck in. You deserve some help."

He blinked, confused. "wait, you actually dislike Dream?"

"His mentality is bullshit. I'm much more content being as grumpy as I please about my suffering instead of forcing myself to "look on the bright side.""

"holy shit, someone who makes sense for once."

You grinned. Before you could say anything else though, Dream's lilting voice called out "I've found you~"

He grabbed your hand. "Time to run!"

You ended up sticking close to the skeleton as you both were chased through town and eventually through a swirling, dark portal. You probably should have hesitated more before running through strange portals, but you had no idea what Dream was planning and really didn't want to find out.

The other side was empty and quiet, giving you both a chance to catch your breath. And to hear the incessant beeping of your CGM alerting you to the fact that your blood sugar was tanking quickly. You pulled some chalky but convenient glucose tablets out of your pocket and waited for your sugar to slowly rise while the skeleton watched you with quiet fascination.

"so... I don't think we introduced ourselves." You extended a hand to him. "I'm (Y/N)."

He took it, shaking your hand. "Nightmare."

What was it with skeletons and weird names?!

#swapdream #swan x reader #x reader #sans x reader #t1dreader

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meetmyothersouls · 2 years

Note

the dr one pleaseeeeee with harley quinn and the joker 🃏 👩‍⚕️

You got it ❤️

Red (The Dr. Is In)

Warnings: psych ward, crazy/insane Timothee (Joker x Harley Quinn vibes), mentions of voices, death and dark themes

You pop a pill, taking note that it’s 2am.

These pills keep you sane. They keep the voices away, and you couldn’t do your job without them. How could you help fix people if the voices in your head were telling you to stab them with screwdrivers or pop their eyeballs out with the plastic spoons from the cafeteria?

A knock at the door snaps you out a daze you’ve be in and out of all evening. It’s you’re week to work the late shift, and to say it’s not your favorite would be a massive understatement. You’re tired and grumpy, and hospitals at night are fucking creepy. St. Matthews hasn’t always required late shifts from the psychiatrists, but there’s a new patient that’s making the others a bit...restless.

You take a big gulp of coffee, wiping it from your chin as the now cold liquid dribbled from the cup. “Yes?” You call from your chair, trying your best not to sound startled.

A nurse pops her head in. Sue Ann. She’s used to the night shift, you can tell by the exorbitant amount of energy she has at 2:30am. Her light blue scrubs that are two sizes too small makes you roll your eyes. She chews her gum loudly and glances down at her clip board.

“You’ve got a patient in room 204.”

“204?” Your fingers clack rapidly on the keys of your computer as you pull up the patient’s file. The computer filters through a couple hundred patients until patient 204′s file is the only one to choose from. You click on the little folder and the patient’s picture as well as a lengthy report about his medical and mental history takes over the screen. You hold your breath as you look at his photo. He is...disarmingly handsome and it’s almost sinful. He doesn’t look crazy, or at least he doesn’t in the photo. You note his smile and a small psychotic glint in his eye. Like he was capable of snapping at any minute while the photo was being taken. “He’s not supposed to be seen until tomorrow morning. Is this urgent?”

“You, uh, you should probably see for yourself.” Nurse Sue scurries away and you take a few seconds to skim the file, taking note of his name. It’s always better to address them by their name than calling them “a patient” or nothing at all. There’s something about being in a psych ward that is dehumanizing enough, no need to make it worse by treating them as an object.

Timothee Chalamet.

You arrive to the room and before entering you hear him talking. There’s nothing coherent about anything he’s saying and you only catch a few fragments of his sentences.

“Think I’m crazy.”

“Know about crazy.”

“Kill. Stab.”

Your breath hitches and you step back. Your back touches the wall which elicits another pathetic gasp from you. He’s cackling both loudly and manically. You look to your left, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror hung on the wall. You never understood why it was hung there. Who’s looking at their reflection here in a hallway lined with rooms containing the criminally and clinically insane? No matter the reason, it hangs there, mocking you. You push your glasses up your nose, hoping it’ll hide the worry evident on your brow.

A tap on the glass slams your attention back to room 204 and you almost bite your tongue off to hold back the scream forming in the back of your throat. The small rectangular window on the door, reveals him and he’s tapping the glass with his forehead. He’s smiling, and it’s menacing enough to make you regret every psychiatric decision you’ve ever made.

Timothee Chalamet’s smile fades instantly, the quick change in emotion alarming. “Are you coming in or are you going to stand there looking terrified all night?” He spins and it’s almost comical how his thin body moves in the straight jacket he’s restrained in.

You swallow hard as shaking hands pull the ring of keys off of your belt loop. When the door opens your shocked at how cold it is inside. You tuck your clip board under your arm and pull your cardigan tighter around your body. Chalamet stands in the far corner of the white room devoid of any decor or objects of any kind. Even while restrained, patients are considered dangerous.

And this one looks lethal.

He’s smiling again as he stands in one corner and you stand in another across from him. He looks the same as his picture, aged only slightly. Curly dark hair that is a stark contrast of the white he wears and the white that paints this room.

There’s so much white.

He takes a step forward and you instinctively step back, he smiles even wider. This is wrong. You’re supposed to mask any apprehension and here you are feeding your fear to him on a silver platter.

“Relax. I’m just going to sit.”

He takes small careful steps toward a soft white chair and jerks his head to the one in front of him. You swallow hard. He’s staring at you, taking in every inch of your appearance. You can’t say exactly what he’s thinking, but the hungry look in his eyes gives you a good idea.

“Mr.-” You glance down at your clipboard as you sit, pretending to not remember his name. “Chalamet.”

“Oh, please.” He gasps, and if he’s arms and hands weren’t wrapped around his body, he’d probably be waving one at you. “Mr. Chalamet is my father. Call me Timothee. Tim. Timmy. Whatever floats that little boat of yours.” His eyes travel up and down your body as he finishes his sentence.

“Timothee. I’m Dr. Y/N. How are we doing tonight?”

He licks his lips before biting down to pull a stray piece of skin off. “Not so great, Doc.”

“Why’s that? Would you like to talk about it?”

He pulls a leg up and drapes it over the arm of the chair, the action swift and effortless. A quick shake of his head thrusts the curls out of his face.

“Well,” he says, as if he’s choosing from a slew of things to talk about. He gasps as he lands on one. “I’m hearing the voices.”

You take a minute to jot voices down on your paper. He watches you, unamused. “What are they saying to you, Timothee? The voices.”

“Your pretty little ears don’t deserve to be tainted with what they have to say,” he answers quickly.

You set your pen down and let out a small chuckle. “Humor me. I’ve heard a lot in my day.” Literally.

One of Timothee’s eyebrows shoot up and he pulls another piece of skin off of his lips with his teeth. He draws blood this time, but instead of licking it up, it drips down his chin and onto the white straps of his straight jacket. He squirms uncomfortably in it and you feel for him, having been in one yourself many many years ago.

“Have you been taking your medication, Timothee?” You ask.

“Of course,” his tone offering mock offense.

You flip a page on your clip board and tap on it with your pen.

“I see, I can give you a higher dosage of-”

“What do your voices tell you, y/n?” He interrupts you, his question is serious. He looks at you from under his brow. “What about those doctors that didn’t listen to you when you told them you weren’t crazy?”

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. so he keeps talking.

“They just shoved a pill down your throat and gave you a pat on the head, isn’t that right?”

You’re staring at him and his words are making sense. It’s scaring you. You’re supposed to be the one asking the questions, but you let him continue.

“These doctors,” he says the word in disgust. “They don’t let you explore your true self. There’s a reason we were chosen. But I don’t need to tell you that. You already know. Oh don’t look at me like that.”

He stands up and walks over to the couch you’re seated on. It comfortably fits two people but he’s sitting so close, your thighs touch.

“Don’t look at me like I’m insane. That hurts my feelings,” he pouts before dropping it and instantly changing to a face whose emotion you can’t quite place. “I think you know better than anyone that crazy people are the most interesting people the world has to offer. But they shove pills down our throats and turn us into walking science experiments. ‘Oh this pill. This one works’ ‘This pill makes him sleepy’ ‘this one makes him a little bit stabby’,” He mocks in a high pitched nasally tone each one more aggressive than the last. “How are they able to tell us what’s right and what isn’t just because they don’t hear the same things we do?”

You shake your head, snapping yourself out of the trance like state you feel yourself slipping into. “N-no, it’s not real. They’re not real--the voices. They’re something your mind conjures up due to trauma, Timothee. Your mind creates them as a form of comfort.”

He’s still sitting close and he spreads his legs wider, shifting in his seat. He leans his head back against the chair. “They’ve just blinded you is all.”

“I’m not blind, Timothee.”

“Oh, I think you are. You’ve allowed yourself to be. You’ve let yourself forget the things that have happened to you. The things that broke you. When you should be letting it fuel you.”

“I have mental clarity. I have my sanity, that I’ve worked hard to maintain. I’m sitting here with you having a conversation that-”

“Have you noticed the two dead guys in the corner over there?”

Your eyes snap to each corner of the room, but there’s nothing. No bodies, no blood. He’s lying.

“There’s no one there. Do you see dead people in the room, Timothee?”

“Look again.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

He offers you an insidious grin and your eyes betray you. Quickly, they snap over to the corner. And they’re there. Piled on top of one another. Dead and bleeding profusely. One has his eyes gouged out and the other’s stomach is ripped open, his organs spilling out onto the tiled floor.

You pull yourself into standing position, your clipboard clattering to the floor as you gasp. Timothee is cackling loudly and you feel yourself slipping.

You smack him and he’s stunned into silence.

He looks positively benevolent as he glares at you and when that grin creeps back up onto his face, like predator whose successfully lured a victim into their trap, you realize it’s too late.

“Killed them myself,” he says, adjusting his jaw from your slap like it was nothing. “In record time too. I know you think about killing these fuckers, y/n.” He gets close again, shuffling his body against the sofa, until his breath is caressing your face. “Think of what we could do together.” Timothee leans in and inhales deeply against your neck. “Such a pretty smell.”

You should smack him again, or better yet leave the crazy fucker and go home. But you can’t.

There’s something about this man that feels like home.

And you’ve already fallen too far.

“What do those voices tell you, y/n?” His lips brush against yours and you shudder at the touch.

“Th-they tell me to stab them with screwdrivers.”

“Mmmm,” Timothee breathes out, as if your sentence was the most orgasmic one he’d ever heard spoken. “Help me out of this straight jacket, princess.”

He stands and turns his back to you. The layers of velcro straps, belts and zippers exposed to you. It’s not too late to book it, but your hands reach for the first set of straps instead of the door. And before you have a chance to change your mind he’s free.

He spins, showing off his newly freed body to you. He pulls you’re body into his and smashes his lips against yours, the intensity of it almost too much to handle, but you melt into it. Kissing him back with just as much ferocity.

He pulls away with a noisy smack of his last kiss. Your red lipstick smeared all over his mouth.

“Come on Princess, let’s paint this bitch red.”

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