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annaraebananawriter · 1 year

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For the angst drabbles (idk if you're still doing them) maybe Passive Nighty's ghost following Dream around? Sorry I don't really have any cool ideas...

Hey! Don't say that! I love this idea, and I know you have many other cool ideas. This idea is definitely one I've thought of before, and I even have a couple fanfic plot ideas lying down somewhere using it.

One involved Palette and him being the only one to see Passive Nightmare's spirit, and he decides to somehow give his uncle his body back and reunite him with his papa (Dream).

The other is similar, but involves the Bad Sanses and then finding Nightmare's crown, and Passive's ghost is attached to the crown, and so they have to catch this ghost up on things and keep it a secret from their boss and figure out how to take Passive to Dream without being killed along the way.

But that's enough about me (though if you want to hear more about these ideas, feel free to ask!). I did this prompt a little bit differently, but still the same type of deal. Also, Nightmare tells Dream a story in this one, which is The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde, just so you know ahead of time.

Happy reading!!

~oOo~

It was raining again. It came down in sheets, the sky rumbling angrily and streaks of white light glowed for a second before fading back to black. Wind made the few trees left bend, a few of the weaker ones snapping in half and flying away to a better place.

Nightmare shifted away from the drops, more of a habit than anything else. In his transparent state, everything around him treated him like he was dead and buried, slipping straight through him.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since the incident. No matter how many times it snowed or rained or the sun shone, nothing changed. Nothing new grew. The land Mother was on was dead, frozen in time. The village was no better. He preferred to look the other way, however; you could only look at corpses and rubble for so long before you felt sick. Physically, he couldn't move very far, so the most he could do was stare at Mother's remains and mourn what could've been.

He looked away. Dream's pained expression, gray stone weathered overtop, bore into him, accusingly. Well, probably not accusing him, his brother was too kind for that, but he knew when he was at fault for something and since no one else was around, it was up to him to hold himself accountable.

It wasn't your fault, Dream would insist if he wasn't a statue. Stop blaming yourself, Nighty.

Nightmare shook his head. "It is my fault, though, Dream," he said, responding like his brother could hear him. "If I hadn't eaten that apple, none of this would've happened. The villagers would still be alive. You wouldn't be petrified. That...monster in my body wouldn't be doing who knows what to people."

If you hadn't, how long would it have been until you broke completely? Imaginary Dream murmured. Things might've been worse.

Nightmare frowned, drawing his knees close to his chest. No, that was too harsh. Too fast. Dream would've made sure he knew it wasn't his fault before suggesting alternative ways things could've happened. Wouldn't he?

If he's honest with himself, he'll admit that he didn't really know what Dream was thinking anymore, not recently, and that's including before the incident. He stopped being able to read his brother the longer he kept his secret of abuse. It's hard to pinpoint when exactly, but he remembered when he realized it, a horrid moment of clarity as he watched Dream talk about his day before going to bed.

He had watched his brother's smile and couldn't tell anymore whether it was real or not, if his tone was genuine. Zoning out, a voice whispered at the back of his head, furthering his distress.

When had Dream gotten so good at lying?

Another round of thunder shook things. Nightmare flinched, glancing up, feeling guilty as he looked back to Dream, remembering the first night they witnessed the sky get angry. Scared at first, he had quickly gotten used to it, curiosity over something new taking over, being replaced soon by worry as he looked over and saw how his brother cowered in fright, eyes wide.

Helpless, he tried to comfort him, but Dream stayed that way, fear coating him more than their blanket did. He had started telling a story to fill the silence as he thought, just a silly story of something that happened to him a couple days ago--exploring the forest and encountering a frog, examing it and noting his observations, only to eventually startle as the frog jumped on his skull, making him tip backward and fall in the river. He had been pulled out of his thoughts by a giggle, abruptly realizing his story had helped Dream forget about the storm for a bit.

The thunder had sounded again and Dream jumped, quieting. Nightmare had smiled, tugging him close. "Don't worry," he had said. "I'm right here. Nothing will happen as long as I'm here. Want to hear some more stories? I have lots of embarrassing moments I never told you about."

Dream had nodded, but quickly spoke before Nightmare could start another story. "And you'll be here forever?"

Nightmare blinked. "Of course! What brother would I be if I wasn't?"

"Promise?"

"I swear it." Nightmare had held up a pinky finger and hooked it around his brother's. "Now, as for a story...well, another time I was exploring the forest and..."

Since then, whenever there was a storm, Nightmare would cuddle Dream and tell him story after story until they both fell asleep. In the morning, the rain would be gone, dew lingering in the air, and they would splash in the puddles together and laugh. It was fun.

This should be no different.

But Dream was a statue right now. Nightmare had no physical form. He wasn't even sure if his brother would be able to see him. There's no way a silly story could help things. Still, he couldn't help imaging his brother cowering again, this time unable to move an inch, eyes trained on the sky. He couldn't even cover his ears to block out the sound.

Nightmare had to do something about that. He couldn't let his brother, imaginary or not, be scared like that.

He shifted until he was leaning against his brother's legs. "It's okay," he said, patting Dream's statue, hovering uncertainly over the hairline cracks around his waist. "I'm right here. I told you I wouldn't ever leave you and I intend to keep that promise. Tonight's story is a bit different than usual. I only read it recently myself. I thought it fit, though."

He might just be talking to himself. Maybe this was the first sign that he was cracking from being alone for so long. Maybe this was a bad idea, a waste of time. His brother was a statue, after all, and statues can't hear or talk or react in any way.

And yet, didn't the statue in the story had a conscious? Wasn't he alive?

"Our story starts in a kingdom. In this kingdom, a beautiful statue of a prince stands on a pedestal, gazing over his subjects. He's made of gold plating, shining jewels for eyes, and his sword. Everyone admires him. One day, the birds are meant to be migrating, winter fast approaching. One sparrow, however, seeks shelter at the prince's feet. He notices the prince is crying. He asks why and the prince explains that he is sad because of the suffering his poor subjects face."

If the Prince in the story was alive even though he was a statue, then why couldn't Dream be alive? Or, well, conscious, anyway. He knew his brother was alive. He wouldn't be here if he was dead.

If that was true, though, then he could imagine his brother relaxing as the story unfolded, calming down. He could imagine him closing his eyes and trying to sleep, focusing on his voice and letting the images free in his mind for his dreams to shape as they please.

"The prince asks the sparrow for a favor. He asks the bird to take the ruby from his statue and give it to a poor mother and child. And although the bird needs to fly south, already late, he agrees to help. The next night, the prince asks another favor. One of his sapphire eyes needs delivering to a poor writer. The sparrow is upset, not wanting to blind his new friend, but he agrees after the prince insists. The next night, the prince asks for his other eye to be delivered as well, this time to a poor girl."

He made a promise, after all. Nightmare will keep it, invisible or not. And if he can only provide stories for his brother to sleep to during thunderstorms, then...that's what he will do.

"The prince asks for the sparrow to take his gold plating and give it to the poor as well. Feeling sorrow for his prince, the sparrow cancels his plans to fly away and stays with his friend, being his eyes for him, and delivering his gold as instructed. The prince is blind. Seeing his riches are gone, the people of the kingdom call the prince ugly. Only the sparrow knows otherwise, that the prince's heart is pure. Unfortunately, not being meant for the cold, the sparrow dies from the cold, and shortly after the prince dies as well from a broken heart."

Because what else are brothers for?

#my writing #ask #ask prompt #fanfic #drabble #my fanfiction #prompt #utmv #undertale #dreamtale #dream sans #nightmare sans #passive nightmare sans #tw mentions of death #tw self blame

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cloudbrooksblog · 1 year

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TRIGGER WARNINGS/content warnings: mentions of various commonly triggering things, descriptions of car-related triggers, many stupid "get over it" phrases that might be triggering if you're a victim of something, and also mentions of suicide, just read with caution ok?

yknow, I've been thinking about PTSD lately. Specifically people's reactions to me involuntarily displaying symptoms of it (dissociating, having flashbacks that make me cry, avoiding triggers, etc).

Most of this is from people who are related to my main abusers (my parents) but they don't react this way for no reason. They were raised in a culture that thinks this way.

The reactions are all similar: when I have an involuntary or instinctual response to triggers (like the ones I mentioned above), they say that I shouldn't let these things hurt me. Want a couple more specific examples, actually?

I avoid movies with car crashes and dissociate+sometimes have flashbacks when I hear tires or brakes screeching on the street. I start to shake if someone honks their horn near me, even in a parking lot. When I do this, INVOLUNTARILY (i cannot stress it enough), my brother will say that I let it bother me too much. Other assorted reactions I've gotten to this specific circumstance have been "you need to get over this one day", "you can't just avoid cars your whole life", and paraphrased, "you need to move on", "if this bothers you you'll never survive in real life", and "you're so dramatic".

That's just with car-related triggers for my PTSD. Don't get me started with sex jokes, cigarettes, talking about wanting to hurt children, etc. And DONT get me started about people's reactions to me wanting to cut off my family.

If I talk about any of that (when it naturally comes up, usually after questions about why I don't talk to certain people from members I'm about to cut off as soon as I don't have to depend on them,) the general reactions are that I'm like a ghost. Holding onto grudges that are just hurting me, that by holding onto them I'm hurting myself pointlessly, and that if i just *tried a little harder* I could live a much more peaceful and happy life. This is in reaction, let me remind you, to things like... me being uncomfortable around cigarettes. Me flinching when I hear sex jokes. Me leaving the room when people start talking about wanting to beat up kids and strangle them. I'm holding a grudge! I'll be encountering these things for the rest of my life!

That last one I get a lot, too. I'll be encountering these things for the rest of my life.

Let me tell you a secret. That's why I tried killing myself. That's why I've been to crisis facilities 6 different times. That's why I've made plans to move off-grid, to move to somewhere isolated, etc. But since I'm still right fucking here, obviously I'm not going to do any of that. So why point it out? Why point that out, as though it's not something you just WITNESSED my way of coping with?

Yes, I'll be encountering PTSD triggers the rest of my life. And every time I do, I will avoid them. That's why I don't buy into the whole "just try a little harder" angle. I'm not going to waste my time and my life trying to do that. This isn't a fear. This isn't a phobia. I don't sprint the opposite direction whenever a car honks and I'm walking on the sidewalk. I still have friends who smoke various things my abusers did. My PTSD still gets triggered by it, and I still get uncomfortable when they smoke. But you know what? They're my friends. They understand that and don't get annoyed at me for being uncomfortable. My friends who make sex jokes do it even though it makes me flinch because I've made it very clear: I'm going to react to them. It's not an insult. There's no need to feel bad. It's just nature.

When you tell me to get over it, it's NOT because you care. Convince yourself that it is, but listen closely: You're making it WORSE. And people with PTSD tell you that. And you ignore them, because you don't really care. Our PTSD just makes you uncomfortable and annoyed. It's inconvenient to think about and be around.

I'm not going to brute-force my way out of having triggers. It's just not happening. I'm going to have these involuntary responses. If you're my friend, you'll deal with it and understand the truth:

It's just nature :) deal with it. It's worse for me than it is for you, you selfish person.

#ptsd #actually traumatized #actually ptsd #rant #triggers #coping mechanisms #i get to the point eventually ok #sorry for the amount of big tags #this thing doesnt have an algorithm and i want my post to be seen #you already knew that #im gonna go be normal now #normal in quotation marks

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bakugoukatsuki-rising · 4 years

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Bakugou Katsuki - Rising

So I told someone a while ago I’d be writing an essay on Bakugou’s lines from 284, and I’m keeping true to my word. If you’re wondering which lines, well my friend, these lines;

So this, to me, is one of the most emotionally packed pages of these recent chapters. For one, it shows us that Bakugou has always been watching Deku, the same as Deku has been watching him. Since they were kids, probably from the age of 4, Bakugou was able to tell Deku never thought of himself first, it was always what he could do to help and protect other people with no regard to his own safety or well-being.

“He’s always been like that.”

How would Bakugou know Deku has always been this way if he wasn’t paying attention to him? It goes beyond his bullying in Middle School, because he’s watched Deku stand up for other’s his entire life. The very first scene of the manga is Deku protecting a child from Bakugou and his group of misfits, despite being quirkless, and essentially helpless.

Despite being scared, and knowing he didn’t have the strength to take on those boys, he still stood his ground and did what he could to protect the other kid. Bakugou witnessed that first hand, since he was the aggressor. He was the one Deku was protecting someone from.

There was no way Bakugou wouldn’t remember something like that.

We know he remembered how Deku extended his hand to him when he fell in the stream, even though Bakugou was fine and didn’t need any help. Deku still waded through that water and even risked possibly getting himself hurt, to reach out to Bakugou and make sure he was alright.

Now, I am going to point out that the stream incident definitely happened before the scene of Deku protecting that boy since it’s evident they’re older in that scene, but it was presented first (literally the first panel of the entire manga), so it takes precedent.

Then we have the big one, which is the Sludge Villain incident, and Deku’s biggest show of self-sacrifice probably to date within the manga, since he was quirkless and would have certainly ended up dead if All Might hadn’t managed to power up. Even with the times he’s wrecked his body using OfA, he at least had some kind of fighting chance because of the power, but with the Sludge Villain, he had nothing. He was just throwing himself out there in hopes, by some miracle, he could do something to save his friend, even if it meant losing his life in the process.

Another instance of Bakugou witnessing firsthand the self sacrificial nature of Deku. Throughout the manga we’re given these instances, and the next big one is Bakugou’s kidnapping. Now, he didn’t see Deku’s fight with Muscular, but he did see the aftermath, he saw that ruined body running at him full force with no care to the damage done to himself, and even before that, he saw Shoji carrying him while Deku continued to plan out their plan of rescue, like his entire body wasn’t a crumpled mess.

Time and time again, Bakugou has been witness to Deku’s behavior, to this self sacrificial nature. The scene above is the first real time we see Bakugou acknowledge it. He tells Deku to stay back, he knows if he continues trying to fight looking like that, he’s going to die. I’ve seen other translations and I believe in the anime he says something to the context of “Don’t come, Deku.” Which, either way you look at it, it gives the same impression of Bakugou trying to protect Deku in that moment. Because he knew if there was an opportunity for Deku to reach, he would have fought until there was nothing left of him.

“And now that he can do so much more...”

This line is important because it is Bakugou acknowledging Deku’s current strength with OfA, but it is also his confession of worry because he knows who Deku is, and what this means for him. If Deku was reckless and willing to sacrifice himself when he was a 4 year old child with no quirk, well now that he has the strongest power essentially in existence, that means certain death. There is nothing stopping him from completely destroying himself, and we saw a brief example of that when Deku fought Muscular, though not even close to the level he was going at Shigaraki, and what Bakugou was actually getting to witness during this chapter and 285/286.

I use the above image because it kind of shows how bad off Deku was, which is far worse than when he fought Muscular, let me remind you. That scene is in chapter 285, after he’s essentially destroyed both of his arms hitting Shigaraki probably upwards of 10 times with 100% OfA.

Remember, Bakugou has been watching all of this from the ground.

“Something doesn’t feel right, it makes me wanna keep him at arms length.”

Well ya know, I don’t really blame you for feeling that way, Bakugou, I wouldn’t feel right if the kid I knew my entire life was willing to die at literally every turn without thinking for a split second about himself, either. It’s a little strange, but that’s what makes Deku the unstoppable force that he is, because he has the drive to save people no matter what. Now if he could master his power and depend on other’s, it would be even better, because then maybe he wouldn’t have to kill himself trying to protect people.

But seriously, that line shows Bakugou's uncertainty about getting close to Deku, because that kind of behavior is scary. It's intimidating. To just...throw your life away for the sake of someone else, that's gotta be scary to see someone do, and Bakugou has witnessed it over and over because of his closeness to Deku.

Now for the big one.

"Back then, I ignored my own weakness...so I ended up bullying him."

There's the kicker, folks. The real development we've all been waiting for.

I do want to point out that when Bakugo was 4, he didn't realize he had weaknesses like that. He was honest to God just a bratty kid that probably thought Deku was weird for caring so much about people despite, essentially, being useless to them. Because what could Deku do? Nothing. He couldn't help anyone because he was quirkless, but he still tried, and that's what affected Bakugou so strongly.

So strongly, in fact, that he never forgot it for a single second.

From 4 years old all the way up to 16 years old. 12 years. 12 years Bakugou Katsuki was witnessing Deku's self sacrificial nature. Again and again he watched as this boy who had nothing, continued to fight for something, and then he was granted power, terrifying power, and now Bakugou is left to wonder how the fuck any of this could have happened. Because if Deku had just stayed quirkless and accepted it, maybe, just maybe, he would stop that self sacrifical bullshit. Maybe he would see himself a bit more.

But then he was given OfA, and all of that hope was gone. Now he was given a power meant to take on the greatest evils and every person before Deku had died for the cause, so why would it stop with Deku, who was already ready to get himself killed to protect someone else when he was like 14 years old?

The scenes we have of Bakugou acknowledging Deku's behavior, and acknowledging his own behavior, it's such a raw scene. It takes a lot to acknowledge you've done wrong by someone else. It takes a lot of strength to sit back and recognize those ugly parts of you, and here Bakugou is, doing just that. And he isn't doing it for some self righteous get me off, either. He's doing it because he genuinely cares about Deku's well being, and he always has.

It never came out the right way, and he sees that now, but that doesn't mean the concern wasn't there. He just didn't know the right ways to express it, but as things have gotten more serious and now Deku is truly risking his life for this cause, he's come face to face with it. He can't hide from it anymore. The more OfA develops, the more Deku is going to put himself out there, and Bakugou isn't going to sit around while he kills himself when he could just learn to ask for help.

This stretches all the way into 285 and Bakugou's sacrifice, because he saw Deku about to end up seriously hurt or worse, and he knew he couldn't let that happen. Of all the years spent endlessly tearing himself apart for other people, Bakugou knew he needed to show the other in some way he didn't have to do it like that. He didn't have to fight alone.

That, and it was part of his atonement. It was a piece of his apology to Deku, to show him that he valued him, and he was willing to put his life on the line for someone, for him.

Bakugou didn't think when he rushed out to save Deku. It was instinctual, like breathing. He saw someone he cared about in danger, and his body moved on it's own. That, from the angry brat we get in chapter 1, is a beautiful showcase of perfect character development and growth. If you take into account everything I've discussed throughout this, it should be easy to realize or at least see a bit of Bakugou's perspective, and his thought process when dealing with Deku.

It never justifies any of his past behavior, but it gives us clarification, and then allows us to appreciate his thoughts and actions in 284 and 285 even more.

#bnha spoilers #bnha meta #bnha #mha #bkdk #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kacchan #deku #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bnha analysis #bnha manga #mha manga

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evil-fork · 4 years

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Yandere Narancia x Reader

warnings: violence, blood, stalking, angst

----

A sinking feeling settled deep in the pit of your stomach as you hurriedly ducked behind the corner of a pastry shop. You clenched your purse closer to yourself, chest heaving as the reality of the situation ﬁnally sunk in.

He wasn't going to stop, was he? You had thought he moved on, and yet here he was--stalking you from a distance. Did he not know that you'd noticed him? And how did he always know where you were?

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, remembering all of the events that led up to this.

You ﬁrst met Narancia two months ago.

It was late in the evening and you had just ﬁnished buying groceries. You were in a hurry, trying to get back to your apartment before the sun went down.

About ﬁve minutes into the trek back home, two bulky street thugs approached you from the shadows. Before you could even react, one of them roughly ushered you into an alleyway. The other stood at the entrance, glancing around for any witnesses.

Your heart leapt to your throat when you spotted the glint of a knife. The groceries clutched in your hand slipped through your ﬁngers and clattered to the ground with a damning thud.

"Look--there doesn't have to be any trouble," the dark-haired man said in a rush. "Just hand over the cash and you can go."

You were frozen in shock, unable to move. You knew that you should reach for your bag and do as you were told, but for some reason you couldn't take your eyes off of the blade.

Would he kill you after he took the money? He couldn't be serious about letting you go unscathed, right? You'd seen their faces. But trying to run wouldn't end well for you either--you were unarmed and outnumbered.

Apparently you had taken too long because all of a sudden, the knife was pressed up against your cheek. A small bead of blood trailed down from where it dug into your skin. You felt the burning sensation of hot tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

"Hurry it up already! Do you want this to get more ugly?" The man snarled, drawing closer to your face.

You tried to ﬂinch away, but you couldn't retreat any farther--your back was pressed up against the cold brick wall. He had you cornered.

As the knife pressed down harder, a loud gurgling sound suddenly broke the silence. Startled, the thug withdrew slightly to look towards the entrance where his partner was stationed. It gave you enough time to push him away with both of your arms. He stumbled backward with a yelp so you made a break for it.

His hand shot out to grab you again, but before he could wrap his meaty ﬁngers around your wrist, another hand reached out and pulled you forward. You were pushed behind the newcomer protectively as he stood in front of you like a human shield.

"Get your hands off of them, you bastard!"

Your savior promptly aimed a well-timed punch straight into the thug's nose with an enraged shout. The man let out a pained cry and clutched at his nose as blood spurted forth, staining his hand with a river of red.

But the new arrival didn't stop there--he rushed forward to land another punch and when the thief fell down to the ground, he reeled his foot back and began to furiously kick the man's curled up body. He cursed exclamations of "Asshole!" and "Motherfucker!" inbetween kicks, each strike seeming to gather more and more force.

You were immensely grateful for his help, but you couldn't just stand around and watch as he beat a man to death, deserving or not.

Taking a tentative step forward, you stuttered out, "H-hey! I--I think that's enough! He's unconscious...!"

Your words seemed to break him free of whatever trance he'd been put under. He froze mid-kick before lowering his foot back down to face you. The rage that had previously occupied his face was all but gone, instantly replaced with a good-natured smile. He subtly stepped in front of the bloodied and beaten body, almost as if to hide it from your view.

"Hah--sorry about that! I guess I got a bit carried away," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "I had to make sure he couldn't get back up to hurt you. I'm Narancia, by the way!"

He held out his hand eagerly for a handshake.

It was spattered with blood.

You stared at it for a moment, unsure what to say.

"Oh! Whoops," Narancia immediately withdrew his hand to wipe the blood off on his...skirt--thing? When his hand was suﬃciently clean enough, he offered the limb back out to you.

This time you took it without question, not wanting to upset him. He'd saved you, but you didn't know what to make of his casual regard for being covered in blood. It screamed danger.

Narancia shook your hand vigorously.

"(Y/n)," you introduced. You didn't see any harm in giving him your ﬁrst name. "Thank you. If you hadn't come, I don't know what would've happened..."

As you went to pull your hand back, his hand tightened for a moment. You tugged a bit harder and he ﬁnally released it, his hand twitching at his side.

A moment of silence passed before he noticed your discarded grocery bag. The contents were splayed across the concrete, having rolled out of your bag when you dropped it earlier. His eyes widened at the sight, and he snapped into action.

"Ah! Your groceries! I'll get them up for you!"

Before you could protest, he was already moving to pick up all of the fallen items. Once they were all gathered up and placed inside your bag, he strolled back over to you. You thanked him and reached out to grab the bag, but he pulled it back at the last moment.

"Hey--it's really dark out! It would be safer if I walked you back home, right? There could be more of those guys still hanging around," he said, looking at you worriedly.

You didn't exactly want to lead a stranger back to your apartment, but you didn't want to walk home alone either. It was dark and the streets would be even more dangerous than before. Logically, you would be safer with him--someone who genuinely seemed concerned about your well-being.

You nodded. "Alright."

The two of you carefully stepped over the other body blocking the exit, Narancia holding out an arm to steady you. You smiled softly, your anxiety ﬁnally settling as you both walked. Narancia chattered away about his favorite foods and how you had the same tastes as him, having noticed the pizza sauce in your bag. You told him about your favorite recipe and he listened keenly, despite admitting that he wasn't much of a cook himself.

Before long, you were already standing at the entrance to your apartment building. You had such a great conversation with Narancia that you completely lost track of time. Once again, you sincerely thanked him for all of the help. The night could've ended much worse for you.

As you took your bag back, you paused at the feeling of his hand on your cheek. You looked up at his face, which had gone completely blank. All except for his eyes, that is. There was something dark swirling in the depths of his violet eyes--some emotion that you couldn't put a ﬁnger on.

You felt a shiver crawl down your spine and you pulled away, covering the trail of dried blood with your own palm. "I'll clean this up later. It's not as bad as it looks," you said reassuringly.

His eyebrow twitched once, and then a wide smile stretched over his face. "I've been cut before in the same place! And look--" Narancia pointed to his unblemished cheek. "No scar, or nothin'! It should heal just ﬁne, I promise!"

You simply smiled back, inwardly wondering how many ﬁghts he must have gotten into in his youth. It was probably a lot, if tonight was anything to go by.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Narancia," you said sincerely. "I wish it had been under better circumstances, but still--thank you. Be careful getting back home yourself, okay?"

Narancia seemed extremely touched by your words, an expression of complete adoration creeping over his face. He nodded enthusiastically. "I will! I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Of course! It's a small world."

And that had only been the beginning.

Even during your ﬁrst encounter with Narancia, the signs had always been there. When the news reported the deaths of two serial muggers the day after, you hadn't even thought to look closer at the faces pictured on the TV. You'd gone on with your day, too worried about getting ready for work and not even thinking to put two and two together.

Everything started out ﬁne. You would "happen" to run into him, and the two of you would get along very well--laughing and giggling over some silly joke of his, or even discussing your favorite music artists over lunch. It didn't take long for him to wiggle his way into your social circle, soon becoming a treasured friend among few.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end eventually.

You don't know precisely when it happened, but Narancia started to become very...clingy. Slowly but surely, it was like your entire life began to revolve around him and him alone.

Whenever you wanted to make plans to hang out with another friend, he was always there to convince you otherwise. He would tell you about how he only had his family to talk to, and that you were his ﬁrst real friend in years. It would make you feel bad for even considering leaving him alone.

But then he started to insert himself into your life even more, pushing the boundaries as far as he could.

You'd come home to ﬁnd him waiting on your couch, uninvited. If you hadn't recognized his familiar clothing, you would have called the police.

The door had been locked--only you had the key.

"Narancia?" you said, desperately wanting to give him the beneﬁt of the doubt. "How did you get in? The door was locked..."

"Oh, that?" He slapped a hand over his pocket. "You weren't here so I just used my knife! I hope you don't mind!"

You were at a loss for words. The way he admitted it so casually left you with an uneasy feeling. Did he really think breaking and entering was acceptable behavior? You could overlook many things when it came to Narancia, but this was too much.

"...I actually do mind, Narancia."

"Don't worry, nothing's damaged or anything!" Narancia assured you, standing up to show you the intact doorknob. He looked almost proud.

"T-that's not the issue here," you sputtered weakly. "You just broke into my apartment--why did you do that?"

He ﬁnally seemed to realize that something was wrong. His face scrunched up and he looked at you with uncertainty. "I thought people who were dating are supposed to let themselves in...?"

Dating...? Where had he gotten that idea from?

"You think--" You stopped to gather your thoughts.

Athough he was greatly overstepping your boundaries, you still couldn't bring yourself to treat him too harshly. Narancia was a child at heart, he couldn't comprehend why what he was doing was wrong. You had to be careful with this.

You took a deep breath. "Narancia," you started. "What made you think that we were dating...?"

"We've gone on so many dates already!" He looked at you as if it were obvious, gesturing wildly. "And we hang out all the time! You have my phone number--of course we're dating!"

You slowly shook your head. "No, Narancia. We hang out as friends. We're not dating."

Narancia looked like a lost puppy. Your heart clenched painfully inside your chest. "Then what do I need to do so that we can date? Please, tell me! I'll do whatever you want!"

You wanted so badly to reach out and comfort him, but you knew if you did it would only give him the wrong idea. He needed to learn that your friendship wouldn't end in romance, as you didn't feel the same way. You saw Narancia as too much of a kid, almost like a younger sibling.

"I'm sorry," you apologized solemnly, averting your gaze. "I don't see you that way. I can only be your friend--nothing more." Better to honest with him, than to dance around the issue.

Narancia marched up to you and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so that you would look him in the eye. "Am I moving too fast?" he asked, desperate to understand. "Is that it? I'm sorry if I did something wrong!"

You were trying to spare his feelings, but it seemed like he was going to make you say it outright. "You're barely an adult, Narancia. I see you more as a younger brother."

The emotion that ﬂickered through his eyes in that moment could only be described as despair. "B-brother...?" His expression crumbled under the weight of your words.

You looked away as guilt began to eat at you.

"I--" His voice sounded choked, and you could tell that he was trying his best to hold back tears. Narancia lowered his hand and stepped past you, toward the front door. "I've gotta--go." A sniﬄe. "I'll...call you later, okay...?"

From that day onward, nothing was ever the same.

Narancia would send phone call after phone call, begging you to rethink your decision. He told you that he would do whatever you wanted--that he would change and become more mature if you would just see him as a man. You told him that you weren't looking for a relationship, but even that didn't work.

Eventually, you were forced to make a tough decision. He was becoming too overbearing, refusing to listen to anything you had to say. You couldn't even get through dinner without your phone blowing up from multiple missed calls. There was a point where enough was enough, and you truly believed that this was that point.

You grabbed the phone and held it up to your ear.

"(Y/n)! You answered! Just hear me out, what if I--"

"Narancia," you said, cutting him off. "If you won't respect my wishes for us to remain friends, then I don't think I want to see you anymore. I'd hate to lose you as a friend, but this is getting to be too much...

There was nothing but silence on the other end.

"Hello?" you tried. "Narancia...?"

You were answered with a click as the phone abruptly hung up. As you set the phone back down on the table, you tried to gather your thoughts into something coherent. Perhaps it was for the best that he responded in that way--you definitely needed some space.

The following few days were like a blessing. It seemed that Narancia had finally accepted that he couldn't woo you over. The phone calls stopped completely after that night. You didn't see him around town anymore, but you understood why. Sometimes distance was the best cure for unrequited crushes.

Apparently, you were wrong.

It started a week after your last phone call with Narancia.

Whenever you would leave your apartment building, you'd start to get the feeling that you were being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck would stand up, and you would feel on edge for the rest of the trip. Sometimes you'd even see a glimpse of familiar colors out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned to look, it would disappear.

You didn't want to believe that it was him, but your suspicions were finally confirmed.

You opened your eyes to stare out at the wall of your hiding place, purse still clutched tight to your chest. Your breathing was elevated, your anxiety skyrocketing. He'd been following you all this time, hadn't he?

Not knowing what else to do, you dug into your purse, fumbling for your phone. You could call the police. Except, you didn't have any proof that he was stalking you...and he hadn't done anything to you yet. Would they even take you seriously? What were you supposed to do...?

A thought suddenly occurred to you.

...You still had Narancia's number.

Hands shaking, you brought your phone up to your face to scroll down to his contact information. The digits stared back at you ominously as your finger hovered over the call button. You would tell him to stop, and if he didn't--you would call the police.

You finally pressed dial, waiting with bated breath. There was an echoing click as the call was immediately picked up.

"Narancia," you quickly whispered into the speaker. "Please stop this. I know you've been following me. It's scaring me..."

"You called! I knew you would!"

His response didn't come from the phone.

The phone slipped between your fingers as you looked over. Narancia was leaning up against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, a victorious grin lighting up his face. You felt the world tilt around you.

He pushed himself off of the wall to come closer.

"I asked the gang for relationship advice and they told me about this old saying!" Narancia scratched the back of his head. "What was it again...? Oh, right! Something about setting the love of your life free, and if they come back it was meant to be!"

You froze when he threw his arms around you, hugging you tight. He held on to you as if you would disappear, your face pressed up against his toned chest. You wanted to say something--anything, but you couldn't seem to formulate any words.

"And you called! You came back! Looks like it was meant to be, (Y/n)!"

#jojo narancia #yandere narancia #narancia ghirga #Narancia #yandere narancia x reader #yandere #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #narancia x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba

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aot-snk-4238 · 4 years

Text

SNK Meta Part 2: Ymir

In my previous post, I talked about my feelings regarding Historia's character this final arc. Now I'm going to talk about Ymir, her relationship with Historia, and my feelings about her send-off.

Was Ymir a good character?

In my eyes, yes. When she was first introduced, it was clear that she had feelings for Historia, making her one of the only canon queer characters in the series (assuming Historia reciprocated those feelings, which I'm pretty sure she did). She also appeared very snarky and cynical, but us readers came to learn later on that there was a much softer, sensitive side to her deep down that Historia would be the first to witness. These revelations, including her backstory, helped flesh out her character in a way that made her very interesting and mysterious for me. I especially loved how sharp and intuitive she was. I'm going to quote the wiki on this part, because I think it does a great job explaining her impressive observant abilities. "Ymir was extremely perceptive and could discern the nature of the people around her with alarming accuracy, such as Historia's martyrdom mentality, Reiner's split personality disorder, and Sasha Blouse's desire to look good in front of her peers by hiding her native accent and developing an extremely formal way of speaking. Due to her experiences and belief in self-pride, she tended to rudely criticize people for being untrue to themselves. Furthermore, Ymir was very reasonable, as she knew what to do during her kidnapping situation and reconsidered her options to accomplish her goals." I also enjoyed her interactions with other characters besides Historia. Take Connie, for example. When he lamented over the possibility of his mother being stuck as a mindless titan, Ymir tried to distract him, albeit not in the most appropriate way (ch. 38).

Connie complained about this behavior later on, but Historia defended her, explaining that she was only trying to stray his thoughts from that traumatic discovery. There were a few more moments between these two that were fun to see as well.

😂😂😂. Ymir's looking at him like, "You ruined it, Connie..."

I love the way she pats him on the head. Knowing how much taller Connie's gotten I don't think she'd be able to do that anymore.

This becomes one of the many times that Connie calls her "ugly" when she's in her titan form. Too bad she couldn't talk very well as a titan or else she probably would have had a smartass remark to throw back at him. It's looking back on scenes like this where I wish we could have gotten more out of these two. You can tell she cared for Connie and I know he also cared in his own way.

We only saw her together with Eren once when Reiner and Bertholdt captured them, but it was very interesting to see their perceptions of each other.

Eren found Ymir to be mysterious and wasn't sure if he could trust her, which isn't surprising considering this was the only time they ever spoke to each other. One detail that he couldn't miss, however, was Ymir's undying determination to protect Historia, a goal they would both come to share later on. Meanwhile, Ymir couldn't trust Eren because she found him to be too reckless and hot-headed.

These were my favorite qualities from Ymir, although to this day I still question the rationality of leaving Historia behind considering the situation she's currently in. Historia herself called her an idiot after reading her goodbye letter. Now that I've covered my reasons for liking Ymir as a character, let's move on to her relationship with Historia.

Ymir and Historia

I've loved these two together since the beginning for their complex and amusing dynamic. On the surface, you had the selfish, confrontational tomboy and the girly, kind and beautiful goddess. But underneath were two young women who were dealt a dirty hand early in their life and lead empty lives as a result until they found each other. Their story arcs throughout the Clash of the Titans arc were beautiful and complimentary, and it's part of the reason why it's actually my favorite story arc in the series. Everything from Ymir seeing through Historia's charade and urging her to live her life with pride to Historia telling Ymir her real name and the two of them fighting side by side in chapter 49 was some of the most empowering moments for me and I will forever cherish those parts of the story.

Ymir's departure

And now the part I've been most excited to talk about! Ymir's glorious, memorable and emotional departure.

Her ending...was not what I expected it to be. She left Historia at the very last second and gave herself away to the enemy because she felt guilty for something that was not her fault. Now as we know, Ymir is selfless at heart and she felt indebted to Reiner and Bertholdt for inadvertently helping her return to her human form after 60 years of wandering the earth as a mindless titan. She also decided that Historia might be safe after all after learning that Eren possessed the coordinate. I understand all of that, but what I don't understand is...well...everything else.

This was Ymir's last real appearance. We see that Ymir has willingly chosen to accompany Reiner and Bertholdt back to Marley to give up her titan powers at the cost of her life. Many people weren't so sure if that was truly the last of her though, because her death was not explicitly confirmed for a long time. We spend the next 33 chapters hoping to get something more, and then this happens...

A glimmer of hope. Finally there's a real chance we'll hear from her again, and it's got a lot of people buzzing with excitement. Sure enough, we finally get to see what's in that letter a few chapters later and are given Ymir's backstory. Here's where the disappointing part comes, though. Ymir makes it clear at the beginning of her letter that she will be dead by the time Historia receives it, meaning that this is the only goodbye they're gonna get. The last time they saw each other, Ymir wasn't even in human form. Instead of a proper goodbye, all we get is a short letter. The anime even tried to fix this by giving us Ymir's backstory earlier, but by doing that, her letter was cut short by a lot. All that was really left was, "Hi babe, sorry I left you like that. Oh well, I'm about to die anyway. Sorry we couldn't get married." And then this happened:

Historia touches Ymir's letter and is suddenly bombarded with visions of Ymir's past, including her chained up and about to be eaten. That is definitely not what happened in the manga and its honestly very confusing to me. How was she able to see all of that just by touching the letter? I get that she has royal blood and was able to access memories when she touched Eren, but Eren is a human who just so happens to possess the founding titan. The letter is just a piece of paper. Also, I'm guessing the last thing Historia saw was Ymir chained up so that there will be no need to bring her up again like Reiner and Porco did in chapter 93. I don't blame the anime team for making that change because I'll be honest, when we saw that one panel of her in her death chamber it felt very out of nowhere and I had a hard time concentrating on the rest of the chapter after that. So here are my main problems with her death:

1. It was off-screen

If I recall correctly, Ymir is the only major character in the series whose death was off-screen. All we got were her final moments, and there wasn't even any dialogue. That part especially bothered me because you can see that Ymir and Porco are looking at each other and Ymir's mouth is slightly open, implying that she's speaking. But what was she saying? You seriously don't mean to tell me that they both just sat there and stared at each other the whole time. She must have had some last words, but for some reason we never got to know what they were. At one point I even thought that Historia and Porco might cross paths at some point and he would be able to give her closure that way but no. No closure, just a last minute goodbye letter and a glimpse of her final moments that I now consider completely useless and unnecessary because we never got more out of it. I mean really, we even got closure and an on-screen death for Marco for crying out loud. Why give him that kind of attention and not Ymir? Not to mention one of the more recent guidebooks. Her character has the diceased sticker and it talks about how she went back to Marley with Reiner and Bert, but that's it. Not even the guidebook makes it clear what happened next. Yeah she died, but did anything else happen before then? That's what I wish we could have gotten more details on like, I don't know....her final words???

2. It was anticlimactic

We didn't get enough focus on Ymir's point of view after leaving Paradis in order for her death to have any kind of lasting emotional impact. As I mentioned above, it just felt out of place and messy. There was nothing memorable about her death either. It was quite simple and boring.

3. It contributed to an ongoing literary issue that has anti-LGBTQ roots

Yep. I'm talking about the infamous Bury Your Gays trope. Now before I go any further, I am not accusing Isayama of being anti-LGBTQ, I'm just shedding some light on something that's been continuously repeated in countless forms of media, not just anime and manga. Truthfully, I hadn't heard about this trope before reading Attack on Titan, but when I did hear about it, it only made Ymir's death even worse for me. I'm not surprised that it exists and I realize that this is a manga where death is inevitable, but keeping both women alive in the end would have certainly been very refreshing. At this point, all I could ask for is that Ymir and Historia get to see each other one last time. Obviously since Ymir is dead it will have to be through other means and I don't care how it's done. It can be in a dream, a vision or through Paths (which I think would work best). Seriously, there's nothing I've been more curious about than how Ymir would react to Hisu's current predicament and what she would say to her. It would just be great for them to have one last conversation face to face because for me, the letter just wasn't enough. Of course I'm hoping for too much, though. We've only got 1-2% of the story remaining, leaving no room for further closure. It's disappointing and frustrating, but no story is perfect. I'm grateful for the content that we did get, but I hope one day I can find a story like this one where the queer characters get to live for once. I'm aware of other shows like Steven Universe, Adventure Time and Yuri on Ice that give them good endings, but those shows are much friendlier towards younger audiences and aren't nearly as dark and grim.

Conclusion

Ymir was a very intriguing character while we had her, but her death was unsatisfactory and only left us with more questions. I am not going to trash Isayama for it, but I will leave this critique here so I can unload all my thoughts for others to read if they wish, or possibly share their own thoughts. We are coming close to the end of the manga, so now would be a great time to reflect on what we read and enjoy what's left of it.

#snk #ymir #snk meta #snk spoilers #snk character analysis #snk manga #snk thoughts

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oswildin · 5 years

Text

Bonded {Part One} ~ Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: You head out on another adventure with the Doctor and the fam, little did you know you would meet someone new.

Warnings: None

Song:

You were currently in the outback. Ryan and Yaz were back home investigating a man called Daniel Barton. You’d just witnessed an MI6 agent be shot and killed, whilst trying to find out what creatures were trying to kill other agents. Multiple agents from around the world had been murdered by something inhuman.

You’d finally had a run in with them as it killed the two soldiers that were sent to protect you all. Sitting in O’s house, you were starting to get a headache forming. It was the same kind of headache you got on the TARDIS. You sat at a table as you felt the pain increase. You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples as you tried to ease the feeling. But nothing was working. You could hear voices around you, but they weren’t those of your friends, they were far away, whispering almost. The burning sensation in your head got worse, as you stood up from your seated position suddenly, startling everyone as you quickly made your way past them all and outside. The Doctor sent you a concerned glance, noticing how much worse your headaches had become. She was starting to suspect something was going on, something more serious than she thought to begin with.

Graham sent you a sympathetic look as you ran outside, as the Doctor went to follow, but he stopped her. He decided to go after you. He saw you like a grandchild, and felt the need to care for you.

“You alright, kiddo?” Graham asked, perching himself beside you as sat on the steps to the house, looking out into the night sky.

“Yeah just, these damn headaches.” You rubbed your temple as he looked at you with worried eyes.

“You ever spoken to anyone about them?” He asked. “And no offence to the Doc, but did you ever see a real doctor?” You laughed lightly at his words, shaking your head.

“No. Never really got them until I met her.” You answered as he scoffed slightly.

“Yeah I know that feeling.” He joked as you smiled at him. You both stayed quiet for a moment before he continued. “Whatever’s wrong, the Doc will figure it out. Eventually.” He added as you nodded to his words.

“Thanks Graham.” You told him sincerely as he patted your knee with his hand, before turning to see O stood with a glass of water in his hands. He sent you one last smile before heading back inside, leaving you alone with the new face.

“Hey... I brought you some water.” O said as he proceeded to sit where Graham had seconds ago. You took it gratefully, as you gave him a small thank you. Your hands almost brushed, as you felt a slight tug in your chest. You shrugged it off as you took a sip. You noticed you felt a strange sensation around the man. It was like you didn’t want to get too close in fear of what would happen, but also the need to be close to him, like you craved it. So when he was sat less than a few millimetres away from you, you felt electricity run through your veins.

“I often come out here to think.” He told you as you peered over at him, seeing him look out into the night sky. “It’s so peaceful. Almost too peaceful.” He said as you raised a brow.

“How can anything be too peaceful?” You inquired as he turned to look at you, a small smile on his lips.

“I guess in your shoes, you relish in peace.” He replied as you nodded in agreement. “Travelling with the Doctor... I can imagine it’s always hectic.”

“You got that right.” You laughed slightly, taking another sip of water. “Don’t think I ever get a moments peace.” You told him quietly as you looked down at your hands. Your body began to heat up. You didn’t know why, considering it was night time and there was a chill in the air. O watched you intently as he noted your slight change in demeanour. He could feel the heat radiating off your body.

“You can take my bed if you want.” He offered as he noticed your expression turned sleepy. He could see the exhaustion on your face.

“I can’t sleep.” You told him. “Not when all this is going on.” You yawned as he raised a brow, his arm brushing against your own as you felt a small shock of electricity. You furrowed your brows as you looked at him, seeing that he had noticed it too. You shook your head, ignoring it as you leant your head against the railing of the stairs.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked you as you shrugged.

“I’m fine.” You told him. “Just get these headaches that’s all.” You stared ahead as you could feel a dull ache forming once more.

“What kind of headaches?” He inquired as you turned to see him looking at you in concern. You pursed your lips.

“I don’t know... it’s just... There. I can’t explain it. It’s like my mind is trying to fight against whatever is happening, but something else is fighting back.” You explained as he looked at you. You realised how silly it sounded. “Sorry, that sounded weird.” You laughed lightly as he shrugged.

“No, It doesn’t.” He told you. “But I do think you should rest. We have a busy day ahead of us.” He said as you hummed. “Human bodies aren’t designed to handle alien invasions without sleep.” He teased as you sighed, knowing he was right. He led you to his room as you thanked him, appreciating the gesture. “We’ll get you if anything changes. Promise.” He told you with a small nod as he left you alone. You sighed as you found yourself falling onto the bed, exhausted.

There was a knock on the door, as you began to awaken. You furrowed your brows to see the Doctor. She gave you a small smile as she entered.

“Hey... what time is it?” You asked as she approached the bed.

“Not sure.” She shrugged. “Don’t think you were asleep too long though.” She answered as you sat up, stretching your arms as you felt a bit better. “How you feeling? O told me you were struggling with your headaches.”

“It’s fine.” You waved it off. “Probably stress.” You joked as she sent you a concerned look.

“No... it’s more than that.” She told you. “You never had them before meeting me, right?” You nodded. “And since then, they’ve gotten worse?” You again nodded. “Then something is telling me they aren’t going to go away any time soon. In fact, they probably will continue to get worse.” She said quietly. “We need to figure this out. Because, whatever this is, it isn’t normal.” You stayed quiet. “I’ve seen this before... but it can’t be.” She muttered to herself. You looked at her confused as she quickly shrugged off her mumbling, telling you their next plan of action to take down Barton.

“Is this a bad time to mention I've never really done undercover work?”

O told the gang as they entered Barton’s mansion. You sent the man an amused glance.

“You said you worked for MI6.” Graham commented.

“As an analyst. In the office.” He told Graham as you smiled slightly.

“It’s alright. You get the hang of it eventually. Just pretend like you own the place. That’s what she does.” You nodded to the Doctor who ignored your comment.

“It's a party. We're guests. Blend in. And keep an eye out for Daniel Barton.” She told them as they split up. You went with O as you headed into the poker room.

You felt slightly better being out of O’s house. You didn’t know why it affected you so much. Let alone why it gave you the same feeling as when you were in the TARDIS. You looked around, not seeing Barton as you noticed the multiple tables set around the room.

“Fancy a game?” O asked as he nodded to one of the tables as you smirked at him.

“I hope you’re a good gambler.” You told him as he shrugged.

“I have my days.” He commented as you headed over to one of them, deciding to play. Truth be told you had no clue what you were doing. This was a whole different realm to you. You weren’t much of a gambler.

You rolled the dice, sending an unsure glance to O as he nodded in encouragement. You threw them, watching intensely as everyone around you cheered, even O as you looked surprised, turning to him.

“Did we win?” You asked, hope in your eyes as he smirked, shaking his head.

“Oh...” You said a bit defeated. “That reaction was a bit misleading.” You commented, glancing around at everyone.

“You know what they say - lucky at dice, unlucky in love.” O commented as he leant on the table, you stared at him with a raised brow.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m rubbish at dice then, isn’t it?” You joked as he smiled at you, you saw a glint of mischief in his eyes as you narrowed your own. “They don’t really say that do they?”

“No.” He said, hiding his smirk as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Come on, we should stop mucking about and try to find Barton.” You told him as you turned away from the table, hearing a loud ‘SNAP’ be yelled from across the room as you spotted the Doctor, looking proud of herself as everyone around her laughed. You shook your head, laughing lightly at her antics.

“For someone incredibly clever, she can be so stupid sometimes.” You commented as O raised a brow.

You and O searched the place, trying to look for Barton as you had no luck. You sighed in defeated, wondering where on Earth he could’ve been. Who didn’t parade around at their own party? Suddenly the Doctor appeared.

“You seen Barton? He just came back in.” She asked as you shook your head, Yaz, Ryan and Graham rejoining you.

“There!” Yaz exclaimed, pointing to the man as he got inside a car out front. You all began running after him as he managed to get away in the car. The Doctor wasn’t having it as she ran over to some bikes that were sat outside.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered as she hopped onto one. You all followed suit, as you quickly realised there weren’t enough for all of you. O stood looking rather perplexed as you ushered him onto the back of your bike. He clearly wasn’t a field agent as you smiled to yourself at his hesitance. As soon as he got on behind you, he wrapped his arms around your body as you felt a burning sensation where his arms where. He clearly felt it too as he quickly pulled away for a second. The others had already gone after Barton as you glanced back at him, before he ignored what had just happened and once again held onto you as you began to drive off.

The whole time all you could focus on was the warmth and electricity that flowed through your body at his touch. You didn’t know why. You didn’t understand any of it. It seemed to take him back as well as he stayed quiet, almost worried to hold you too tight incase he broke you.

Eventually you arrived at the hanger, seeing a plane begin to take off on the track. The Doctor instantly began to run after it as you all sighed to yourselves, running after her. A dull ache began to form once again in your head as you tried to fight through the pain. O noticed your suffering as he tried to help you increase speed, taking your hand as he pulled you along. But with him being not a very skilled runner, you both lagged behind.

“Come on!” The Doctor exclaimed as she got the door open, throwing herself up into the back of the plane as the other three joined her. They threw encouraging words your way as you finally reached the plane, O helping you up best as he could as the others pulled you up. He quickly followed suit.

“Sorry. I've never been good at sprinting.” O commented as he huffed, trying to catch his breath. You sat down on the floor, trying to also catch your breath as the pain in your head increased.

“Come on, Doctor. We're about to take off.” Ryan told her as she soniced the hatch door, closing it shut as they all entered the main cabin.

“What are we actually going to do?” Yaz inquired as the Doctor leant against the seats, catching her own breath.

“Sit tight. See where he's going.” She shrugged as she turned to O, seeing him sat in a seat next to you as you held your head in your hands. “Never been good at sprinting?” She asked, confused.

“I was the last one in every race at school.” O shrugged, sighing.

“No, no, no. I read your file. You were a champion sprinter.” She explained as everyone watched the interaction. O’s face turned dark, as his eyes became smaller, almost menacing.

“Mmm. Got me. Well done.” He told her as everyone looked confused. You peered over at him as you felt the burning in your skin once more.

“What's going on, Doc?” Graham asked as O got up from his position, standing in front of the Doctor as he watched her closely.

“I don't know.” She answered honestly as O raised his brows.

“You'd best take a look out of the window.” He told them as they all moved to peer out the window he gestured to, seeing his house flying in the sky next to them.

“How's your house out there?” Graham asked, looking confused as O waved him off, turning away from them all.

“Bit Wicked Witch of the West, but you get the gist. Maybe. Maybe not.” He turned back to them all as the Doctor’s face fell, fear entering her eyes. That look brought you no comfort whatsoever, you knew that look. You’d seen it before.

“No.” She shook her head, covering her mouth slightly.

“Oh, come on, Doctor, catch up.” He taunted, as you furrowed your brows at the man. “You can do it. Come on.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, falling back slightly as the man in front of her grinned.

“That's...that's my name, and that is why I chose it. Oh, so satisfying.” He clapped his hands together. “Doctor, I did say look for the spymaster.” He paused, smirking. “Or should I say spy... Master?” He breathed out dramatically as everyone watched in fear. “Hi.” Suddenly you hissed in pain, the name burning through your skull as you leant down. Graham rushed to you as he noticed your discomfort.

“You can't be.” The Doctor breathed out, shaking her head.

“Oh, I can be. I very much am.” He walked towards the other Timelord.

“So what's going on, then? He's not really O?” Ryan asked as the man before them walked past the Doctor.

“I'm her best enemy. Call me Master.”

Again, the name triggered something inside of you as you groaned in pain. The Doctor looked over to see your feeble position. She began to panic as she tried to figure out her next move. Graham tried to comfort you as he looked back at the Doctor concerned.

“Doc?” He asked, looking for help as you felt tears in your eyes.

“Okay.. okay..” The Doctor mumbled. “But I met O. Years ago.” She told him as he manically laughed.

“I know!” He grinned wildly, enjoying every second.

“What have you done to (Y/N)?” She asked frantically, seeing the pain her friend was in. “What have you done...” She repeated as he sent a confused glance her way. He peered over at you as he saw your reaction, seeing you holding your head.

“I haven’t done anything.” He told her sincerely, as she got close to him, her eyes threatening.

“Don’t lie to me.” She told him sternly as he raised his brows.

“Why would I lie now...” He asked. “The truth is all coming out, Doctor.” He told her darkly, as she looked back as you. You looked up, tears soaked your cheeks as she worried for you.

“Doc, they’re burning up.” Graham told her as he almost felt the heat coming off your body.

“I’ve seen this before...” The Doctor told her friend sadly. “But it can’t be...” She muttered to herself. The Master rolled his eyes, annoyed he wasn’t getting all the attention. “Barton.” She remembered as she pushed past the man, rushing to the cockpit, as she entered, instead of seeing Barton, she was faced with a bomb. She sighed in defeat after trying to sonic it as she walked back out to the others.

“Now, do you really think that I would not make that sonic-proof, Doctor? Come on!” The Master exclaimed. “Deadlock sealed. And I made sure - no parachutes on board.” He said smugly as she shook her head.

“There must be a way! Ah. Okay, okay.” The Doctor felt her mind going wild. She had to save her friends, and find out what was wrong with you. The Master leant against one of the seats as he looked at her companions.

“Stick with me, cos I control... everything.” He smirked, before clicking his fingers. “Even these guys.” Two of the creatures appeared behind him as he grinned madly, the bomb finally detonating as it threw everyone back. You and Graham flew out of your seats as the plane began to crash, falling towards the ground.

“One last thing.” The Master said, going down to the Doctor as she laid helpless on the plane floor. “Something you should know in the seconds before you die.” He turned serious. “Everything that you think you know... is a lie.” He peered over at you as he narrowed his eyes, walking over to you as he gripped your arm tightly with his hand. Graham tried to stop him, but was holding on to a seat for dear life. “Got you, finally.” He smirked as you both teleported away, leaving the others on the crashing plane.

Taglist:

@drapetxmaniia @dannighost @imagine-whatever @impalasquiptyseven @yourlocalspacebisexual @the-sweet-space-bi @a--1--1--3 @blamerogertaylor @koschei-studies @koschei-taylor @lostshadow12 @hannahlilyyx @wonders-of-the-multiverse @ettorah @nikey-no-likey @imthedoctorlove @twentysomethingloser92

#the master x reader #dr who #fanfic #sacha dhawan #dhawan!master x reader #dw spoilers #dhawan master x reader #thirteenth doctor #13th doctor x reader #doctor x reader #doctor who imagine #doctor who #dhawan master #dhawan!master #master x reader #reader insert

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 6)

A/n: Things boutta get bad so like... I'm sorry. Practically nothing but angst this part won't lie. Side note: I know I don't actually have a lot of Jerome x reader content yet, but I wanted to show the reader's descent into madness before they're officially a thing. I promise you it's coming, and very soon :)

Word Count: 4300+

Playlist

MASTERLIST

Y/n shot to his feet, only for the guards behind him to draw their guns. Alfred held up a hand. "Is he alive?" Y/n demanded. He might have lost his mind just a tad, but Bruce was still one of the very few things Y/n Wayne cared about and no one was about to put that boy in danger.

"Yes," Alfred soothed. "I said he WAS kidnapped. We have him back now." Y/n calmed and Alfred seemed to almost smile, as if seeing the amount Y/n cared was very reassuring. That tracked. "He's been brainwashed or something though, and I've gotten special permission from Commissioner Bullock himself to let you out to help me bring him back. If we play this right, we might even get you released permanently. We can figure this whole thing out. You can come back to us. We can be a family again." Y/n thought about that. Seeing Bruce again. His brother meant everything to him. He cared about Alfred too, honestly. The man had been a good father figure to both of them, and a good friend even when their father was alive. Y/n would have a real home, without killing or chaos. He'd be working for the good guys.

Right?

He thought about that word. Good guys. Cops were supposed to be good guys, weren't they? But he'd gotten locked up in Arkham just for being associated with Jerome, and then gotten the shit kicked out of him when he'd simply been himself. He hadn't killed anyone, or hurt anyone. He'd shown affection to another man and had nearly gotten beat to death for it. He'd leave Arkham, the only place he'd ever really been accepted for being gay. Maybe not by that one guard, but everyone else seemed to not care since no one cared about him at all, except maybe Jerome. Oh god Jerome. Y/n would have to leave him. And Harleen as well. The new friend who really got him and had his back the best she could in a place where her words practically had as much affect as Y/n's did. He had a boyfriend and a potential best friend and room to be free... except that he wasn't free.

Why was this so hard?

"Y/n," Alfred interrupted, eyes wide and pleading. "Bruce needs you."

The last time Alfred had said that, Bruce had just witnessed their parents' murders. Y/n pushed down the boy he used to be that was fighting to resurface, trying to find at least a. Middle between then and now. They were so different... there was suddenly a battle again himself, and he was losing.

Finally, he just shut it all down. Everything else could wait for another time. "When can we leave?" Alfred smiled at his words, but Y/n suddenly had a terrible feeling in his gut. Why did he get the sense that everything was about to get really, really bad again?

"Penguins alive?" Y/n relaxed in relief.

Alfred frowned. "Yeah. Um-" He swallowed. "You've kind of really been involved with all the worst people recently, eh?"

Y/n actually scoffed at that, his lips curling in amusement. "I've met far worse people than Oswald, Alfred." He looked the butler in the face. "You might not like to hear this, but that redhead everyone in town hates so much? He wasn't the one who did this to me." Y/n motioned to his own face. "But the officer who did, did it for no other reason than because I'm gay." He let that settle for a second. Alfred seemed shaken a bit. It seemed to finally be dawning on him just what Y/n had been going through since his parents had died. "Now, enough about me." They'd finally pulled up to the GCPD building. "Let's get inside. Like you said: Bruce needs us."

Y/n had been required to be handcuffed, though he hadn't been put in a straight jacket and had been allowed to change into normal clothes as not to upset Bruce upon seeing him. He was still beat up pretty badly though, and had developed a limp as the adrenaline wore off and as his beating really sunk in. Alfred had to keep him handcuffed as they walked in, and the whole place went quite. It was becoming a habit that Y/n could walk into any room and immediately bring silence with him as he did so. All of Gotham had gotten to the point that they couldn't exactly make an opinion on Y/n Wayne. How did someone like him get born into a family like he had been, and turn out like this?

Gay and insane.

It had been in the newspaper. Someone, somewhere had gotten hold of the news that Y/n Wayne was gay and it had been released everywhere. Y/n had read the article a while ago. It's what had prompted Jerome to finally be more affectionate around other inmates, instead of just at night when they were in their cell together. People might give Y/n shit for being into dudes, but no one was going to mess with Jerome. He'd put his neck out for Y/n... It was becoming clear that few others would do the same. Maybe it was the insanity.

Y/n was brought to a room that was a different color than the walls at Arkham. The color outside had been overwhelming after seeing muted versions from a distance through windows that now, the dull color was kind of refreshing. Inside the room was Bruce, but he looked different. Y/n couldn't imagine the last time his younger brother had worn a turtle neck. His father used to try to get the boys to wear them all the time, but, especially in their youth, the boys had hated them and eventually their father had given up. Bruce hadn't worn one since they were both seven, when he used to just do whatever their dad told him to. And since when did he wear anything other than dark blue or black? Y/n found all his usual jokes about Bruce being a casual emo slip from his mind. He didn't know how to approach this new boy. He didn't know him.

To be fair, Bruce didn't really know him either.

"Hello, brother," Y/n greeted, unsure of how to go about this after all that stood between them.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Y/n sat down, scooting over as Alfred joined him with a second chair. "Just checking in," Y/n responded slowly. "Alfred told me about what happened. Getting kidnapped. Been there, it's not too fun."

Bruce rolled his eyes."You got kidnapped by a brainless psychopath. I got taken by someone who was trying to help me."

Y/n scoffed. "Help you? Bruce look at you. You're not yourself."

"I'm better," Bruce shot back. Y/n went quiet at that, looking at Alfred with raised eyebrows.

Alfred ignored the look. "Now we can talk all day, but what really matters is that you tell me what you meant when you said someone else was coming to Gotham. I thought that old fellow was the leader of the Council of the Owls, who else would be coming?"

An expression rested on Bruce's face. Far too complacent and calm. The Bruce Y/n was familiar with had the tendency to brood- this Bruce seemed to have no tendencies at all. No cares or anything. It was disturbing to say the least. "I want you both to leave."

"Well that ain't gonna happen, is it mate?" Alfred immediately matched. The butler crossed his arms. "You can't get rid of either of us that easy. Your brother here found time around being locked up to be here for you. Not much is getting us out of here."

"Especially with the city in chaos," Y/n cut in. "Not even your pals in the GCPD will be here to drag us away. Might as well end it now."

When Bruce didn't respond, Alfred leaned forward. "You have to remember who you are."

That seemed to set Bruce off. "I know who I am." Y/n scoffed. "I have a destiny," the younger boy continued, his volume raising as Y/n's mocking noise irritated him.

"Now you listen to me." Alfred had gotten very quiet. "That man that wanted you to detonate that bomb, whatever he promised you- freedom from pain, power - none of it, none of it was real. I want you to remember what is real."

"I know what's real!" Bruce yelled over the end of Alfred's sentence. Y/n tried not to smile. He really did. Bruce glowered as his older brother grinned at him. Mocked him. "You come in here and mock me? You're the crazy one. Don't you dare laugh at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind! I got vengeance for our parents' murder. That's real, and better than running around like an idiot with a lunatic murder!"

"You know NOTHING about lunacy," Y/n interrupted. "I've seen crazy. I've seen grown men beat on teenage boys and call it power. I've seen cops chase bad guys to predictable set ups and act like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. I've seen so called heroes save to be said innocent people, and then those evil little shits turn on those same heroes the first chance they get. I've seen love get ignored and then twisted. I've seen people laugh at pain and enjoy the suffering of others and then call themselves sane because that person who was dying was a bad guy, so who cares, right? I've seen people define good and bad like it's a dictionary entry and then immediately break the rules they lay down and still try to pass off as the victim of the story. THAT was real Bruce." Alfred put a hand on Y/n's shoulder, and it was only then when he realized he was crying. "I've seen stories about how evil and corrupt men are and how much women are victims, and then looked at Gotham and seen women in charge while I, a child, was raped by a woman again and again who was only using me for power." He cleared his throat. "Not to say that other people don't suffer, I just mean that everything is a grey area. What's real is bullshit and what's fake is seemingly the most honest option of those presented. Not everything is as clear as it pretends to be, Bruce. I'm supposed to be the crazy one. I was supposed to be the one who failed. I was supposed to be the screw up, but we're both in handcuffs and you were the one who was trying to ruin the lives of thousands of people just minding their own business. What was my crime, huh? Trying to be happy? Trying to be true to myself?" Y/n scoffed. "If only mom and dad could see you now."

"YOU SHUT UP!" Bruce screeched.

"Both of you calm down," Alfred snapped. "I was there when your parents had both of you. I took care of your mum and was there as you grew up. You used to be inseparable. No matter what anyone else did or said or thought, the Wayne brothers always had each others' backs. Good and bad is clear. Everyone is capable of it. Everyone does it. No one is innocent of evil, even in small amounts. Both of you have been idiots." He took a breath. "But you're also both my idiots." He looked between the two boys. "You're both my boys, even if I haven't been there for both of you." He looked at Y/n as he said that. "You want to talk about what's real? What's good?" He looked at bruce. "What's real is when you were sick as a kid, and your mum used to sit up with you every night and read to you when you fell asleep. That's real. Or when you were seven and you took that rowboat out and you got lost in that storm. Me and your dad were out, shouting and screaming, losing our minds, and when your dad found you, how he cried. That's real." He looked at Y/n. "When you were twelve and you came to your parents in tears because you couldn't understand why all the girls your age were talking about kissing you and you couldn't stop thinking about kissing the other boys. Your mum calmed you down and your dad told me that no matter what, they'd love you and you thought I didn't know but I did- all this time, I knew." Y/n felt his chest tighten. He felt terrible. "That was good, Y/n." Alfred gripping Y/n's shoulder. "When everyone came to your dad talking bad about you and they thought he'd laugh along, but he put an end to it immediately because you were still his son and he loved you. He was proud of you. When the news people came after you for secrets and they were nosey and pushy. When they crowded and stalked you because they'd caught wind that you had a dark secret and everyone wanted to know what the oldest Wayne son failure was hiding, and your dad nearly lost his mind on all of them, if your mum hadn't stepped in and stopped it cordially. THAT. Was. Good." Alfred returned to looking at Bruce, keeping his hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Your parents died in that alley four years ago, and maybe that man took away the pain of that night." This time he looked between the two boys. "Life has been hard since then, but there is no life, no love, without pain." He squeezed Y/n's shoulder and when the boy nodded, he returned his attention to Bruce. Bruce was the main focus right now, but Y/n had gotten the message. "He could not take away the love that your mum and dad gave you, that you still have in you- that you still have-" his voice broke as he reached over, pressing his hand against Bruce's chest, right over where his heart would be. "Right here." His hand finally dropped after a pause as he continued, "The same love I have for you. For both of you." His face flecked with. "I love you, Maser Bruce. Master Y/n. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. You must-" he cut off, focusing on Bruce. Y/n kept thinking Alfred was done focusing on him, but then Alfred would look at him again, and he hadn't felt so cared for or looked after since his parents had died. It all felt silly now... "You have to find that love again."

Every word hit home. Alfred was speaking to Bruce, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was talking to Y/n too. Y/n reached over, his hand resting over Bruce's. "We both have to," he whispered softly. "You don't have to do it alone. I know it's been hard and chaotic, but I'm still your brother, Bruce. You're still my brother. And no matter what, you always have me."

Alfred leaned forward. "Come back to us, Master Bruce." There was a commotion outside and Alfred sighed before telling Y/n, "I'll be right back," and then leaving.

Bruce looked to his brother. "Did you mean what you said? I can depend on you?" Y/n nodded immediately. "Then get me out of here." Y/n went to argue but Bruce interrupted. "You can come with me and make sure I'm safe. But I HAVE to do this. I need to finish it. I need to see it through. I need to know if this really is my destiny. I need to understand-" he cut off, choked with emotion. But Y/n knew what he meant. The same thing that had driven him to follow Jerome Valeska of all people. That had gotten him to follow Penguin and ditch his family to begin with. There are just some things you have to do. So Y/n looked around, found a pen, and Bruce pick the locks on both of their cuffs before they booked it, side by side and headed for... something. Bruce hadn't cued Y/n into the plan this far.

In all honesty, it was just nice being by Bruce's side again.

They made their way through the city streets of Gotham at night until they got to a red door with the word "Yuyan" on the front. Bruce went in. Y/n followed. Inside was the statue of what looked like some kind of demon. There was a lot going on. Bruce didn't hesitate- he stepped up and began analyzing it. Y/n was still taking it in when he pulled something and the wall opened up, revealing a hidden passage. The brothers went inside, Bruce having to take Y/n's hand to get the older boy to follow him now.

The two walked down a staircase and through a tunnel. It seemed eery. Weirdly light and far too silent and empty. When people appeared, Y/n regretted his lament about there not being anyone around- they immediately attacked him. "No." Bruce said firmly. They stopped. Y/n looked at his brother with shock. Bruce's expression remained calm. Y/n's would be attackers simply pointed Bruce onward, making way for him to follow their direction.

Y/n hadn't been this scared in a long time. Surely he wasn't in danger. This was Bruce he was talking about. Golden Boy Bruce Wayne who used to cry when they were really little and Y/n would step on a bug. Who shut down after their parents died because he loved them so much that seeing their murder changed him... except that his heart of gold kept him from corrupting like Y/n had. He was driven by justice and refused to let up until evil was destroyed. Bruce Wayne was a hero.

And yet, when Y/n looked at the back of Bruce's head now, he didn't see his younger brother. He saw a man in a child's body. He saw a straight back that was well trained and perfectly postured. He saw clothes Bruce would never wear and a silence Bruce would prefer not to bear, especially with Y/n around to talk his ear off. He saw Bruce leading them down a tunnel of doom, being completely docile after someone tried to kill him. After he almost poisoned maybe hundreds of people with just the press of a button. After, of all people, he had chosen some random old dude weirdo over Alfred and almost killed one of two family members he still had left.

Very suddenly, Y/n realized that he hadn't realized how bad Bruce was. How dumb it was to follow after him right now. And he was more scared than he'd ever been. More scared than even when he looked in the face of a cold blooded, sadistic murderer who had completely lost his mind and only saw an endless world of things to fascinate him. More scared when the doors would close and all he saw was red lips curled in a devious smile as the one person he trusted the most took advantage of him. More scared than when that stupid guard had locked him in that room and he had really thought he was going to get beaten to death for being gay.

Bruce pushed two double doors open with each hand. They creaked as they opened slowly, revealing a room with a green pool in the middle. Bruce leaned over and Y/n stepped forward, reaching out to stop him. Then he felt a pain at the back of his head and everything went black.

Y/n woke up alone.

It was dark, but it only took him a few seconds to remember everything and realize where he was. He looked around- the pool was still there. Otherwise, the room was empty. Y/n groaned as he sat up, looking around again for signs of those people that had attacked him earlier. When he still saw no one, he stood and began walking back the way he'd come. It was even scarier now that he was alone. "Bruce?" He whispered into the empty hallway. He jumped at every noise, resulting in him eventually misstepping and tripping. He would have face planted if his scrambling abilities hadn't improved recently due to all the running away from cops and other crazies alike in his days by Oswald's side. Thankfully he didn't fall because, as he was noticing while trying to get his feet under him, there was blood on the floor.

Oh my god there was blood on the floor.

He sucked in a breath, beginning to look around again. "BRUCE?" His heart picked up and he felt the back of his eyes burning with tears. "Bru-" his shoulder hit a wall and he screamed. Shaking his head to calm himself, he pressed his lips together and retraced his path that he'd taken with Bruce to get in here. Eventually it lead him outside. Weirdly enough, the wall was open again. Which meant that he didn't have to figure out how this side of the trick worked... but it also meant he wasn't alone.

The night air outside was cool, the sun rising in the distance. He looked down at himself- he was filthy. He took a second to think. To remember. The last thing that had been clear to him was that he was absolutely terrified of Bruce.

That's right. Bruce wasn't... right anymore. Well, that meant he couldn't go home. He also couldn't just walk back into Arkham. They might think he'd done something if he came back, dirty and hysterical, without Alfred. So he went to the GCPD department instead, because where the else was he going to go?

He was inside for maybe a second before he saw a familiar face. His eyes went wide and his heart nearly stopped- in his vulnerable state, of course it would be the guard that almost beat him to death that would be there to greet him. The man smirked, tilting his head. "There you are. We were wondering when you'd find your way back." He approached the teenage boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Someone else approached. Y/n almost melted in relief to see Harvey Bullock. "What's going on here?" His eyes laded on Y/n. "What... I thought you were in Arkham."

"He was," the officer responded. Y/n had already forgotten his name from when Harleen had said it before. "Alfred Pennyworth came and got him out for the day. Needed him for some Wayne business. I'll be taking him back now."

Harvey looked confused by that. "Why? We were already debating letting him go. Now he's out, there's no reason to immediately put him back in." The guard seemed horrified by that idea. Harvey put his hands on his waist. "He didn't do anything wrong."

"Do you know what this boy is?" Y/n's heart sunk. "He's a homosexual."

Harvey's eyebrows rose. At first Y/n thought it was in surprise, but then he said, "So what?"

The guard looked stunned. "He needs help, Bullock. He was canoodling with Jerome Valeska in Arkham. In public. Like there's nothing wrong with that."

Now Harvey was surprised. Y/n swallowed his emotions and met the older cop's gaze evenly, sticking his chin up. Harvey sighed. Y/n didn't even have to say anything- the old man just seemed to... immediately understand. "He turned to someone who accepted him in a world of people who hate him." It was Y/n's turn to be surprised. "That's not punishable."

The guard scoffed. "Son, have you ever killed anyone before?" Y/n looked away. He thought about the first time he'd ever killed someone, and then thought about all the many times after that he'd done it himself or helped. Another experience he'd picked up while hanging with Oswald. "The thing won't even deny it. And he's proud to be with that redheaded psycho. There's something wrong with him, Commissioner. He needs to be detained and get some help."

Harvey and Y/n both knew that was not the reason the guard wanted Y/n back in Arkham. The two men looked at each other, both put down at the fact that they couldn't stop anything happening. Maybe Y/n should have lied. Maybe he should be fighting. Unfortunately, he'd just lost his little brother and he had no idea what kind of shape Alfred was in. Currently, he had to assume that Alfred was either dead or would be soon, if Bruce could help it.

The guard tugged Y/n's arm and they were headed back outside toward his car. "Thought you were gonna get away from me that easily, did you?" The guard growled under his breath, leaning close to Y/n so the Wayne boy would be the only one to hear. "I finally have a reason to get at you, you little shit. Things are only gonna get worse for you from here. Now I can say you've killed people. No one will stop me from knocking you now."

Y/n looked at the city one more time before he was shoved into the car. The guard pulled out a pair of cuffs and put him in them. He looked at the city the whole time. The entire ride, he took in every inch of it. Every dirty corner. Every dirty human. Every inch of the buildings- no matter how close, far, tall or small they were. If he could see it, he took it in as much as he could. Above everything else, he took in the sunrise.

Maybe it was the fact that Y/n might never see it again outside of Arkham, but it wasn't overwhelming this time.

It was beautiful.

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prankprincess123 · 4 years

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I think part of the reason I adore Wanda and WandaVision both, are that it's too relatable.

Most of my mutuals probably know this because I've never felt the need or desire to hide it, but I have an almost unhealthy close (and even codependent with some of them) relationship with my siblings and cousins, and I've lost siblings. One of my sisters died when I was 3yo and she a baby, and despite knowing logically that there was nothing I could have done, I irrationally blamed myself for not being able to save her for my entire childhood. I have had nightmares since her death of my little siblings being hunted by the embodiment of evil, and there's nothing I can do to save them. And these nightmares got worse and expanded to include my cousins too when I was 9yo and my then 3yo cousin drowned on a family vacation (technically drowned at least - they were able to revive him and he's perfectly fine now, and doesn't remember it at all, but us older kids at least have a bit of PTSD just from witnessing it) and again expanding as a teenager to non-biological or legal family members after a bunch of trauma related to fostering and eventually adopting from the foster system (and if I'm traumatized as a person who merely had to witness these traumas second hand and hold some of these literal babies as they cried, you can tell how bad it is. Yet I would gladly do that a million times over if it means these kids have to go through less of it)

I have PTSD induced nightmares from the loss of a single sibling, almost every night, and have since I was 3yo. And they've gotten increasingly worse from other traumas that have occurred and I've witnessed in my life. And so I escaped into fantasy. I escaped into fairytales where no matter how dark the middle gets, the heroes always get a happy ending. I escaped into comic books, where even if a hero dies, it's not for long because their loved ones will literally move heaven and earth, alter reality and cross dimensions to get them back. And when stories stopped giving me that escape, I turned to fanfiction and gave it to my self and to my favorite characters.

I escaped into writing and maladaptive daydreaming the world I created.

I created a perfect fairytale where the main characters are literally my family with anagrams of real names as fantasy names and superpowers based on their personalities. A world where my angel is alive and getting to be a child and grow up with the rest of us. A world where my baby sister and cousin never had to go through the trauma that they went through as babies in the foster system before we adopted them (where they never had need to scream in such terror and pain, and I never had to witness and comfort them in those moments of which their cries still echo in my brain on a nightly basis) A world where a teenager has enough strength to destroy the embodiment of evil that is hunting their family. A world where even a toddler has enough magic to save someone's life, be it their own or someone else's. A world where my family is whole and together and happy, and living in a world inspired by my coping mechanism. A world I created for the sole purpose of my family being happy, so I could channel my greif and pain and fear into something other than my nightmares.

Edramel is my Westveiw.

My not exactly healthy way of simultaneously exploring my trauma to sort through it, and escaping from it altogether because it hurts too much to deal with. It started as just a seemingly frivolous story of magic and family and love, but then it grew deep and began forcing me to confront my demons. And it seeped beyond my intended medium into the world, and people who play a part in my story are now playing the same part in real life.

My little siblings and cousins answer to their character's names as easily as their own, because I call them by such instinctively. They run around the house pretending to use the powers I gave them in my story, because I forgot they don't really have that power and suggested they use it to solve a problem. I fear for the day that the Edramel Chronicles are read, and the little kids realize how much pain and dissociation I simultaneously projected into this story, and it corrupts what is currently in their minds still just a fun story and game of magic and family as I intended it to be for them. The older kids are already beginning to realize this, particularly my 15yo cousin-sister, and it worries and terrifies her, even as she loves my world almost as much as I do.

And to some degree I've always been conscious of this fact. I'm not actively projecting my thoughts into their minds as Wanda does, but what's the difference to a child whose bedtime stories and lullabies have been of my world for their entire lives? In my book I even recognize this fact by having my character be a telepath who can't for the life of her comprehend the purpose of shielding her mind; her mental shields exist not around her mind, but around the mental bonds with her family, so her thoughts spill over into their minds and sometimes even trap them in a feedback loop of her emotions.

I don't have Wanda's powers, so my 'hex' isn't as big, and the effect contained to my writing and those close to me. But if I had her powers, my world would be exactly that - an entire world not just a town.

I wouldn't consciously force people into other roles, and even for my book I ask my family what they would do in a situation before I have their character do it. But Wanda wasn't consciously forcing roles on people either. And I don't know that I'd have the strength of conscience to keep people's free will intact with her powers. I'd be more occupied with ending the pain, both mine and others. With taking people's pain away by any means necessary, and punishing those who caused such pain. And in the process I'm not sure I'd be able to keep their free will intact.

I adore Wanda Maximoff because I've spent almost 8y doing the same thing as she did with WandaVision, only on a different scale, and fully knowing that in her situation I'd be a million times worse.

Wanda has gone through so much worse than I have, yet she didn't break down for so long, she kept the hex small, and had the strength to destroy it and her family to save others. I don't have the strength to do that. I have spent my entire life since I was 14yo creating and living in a maladaptive daydream that extended beyond its borders into the real world, where I can literally burn someone to death for hurting my family or a child at all. And getting to see that it's possible to continue living when that world comes to its end is a powerful thing. And after all, she’s right: Family is Forever, and We'll say hello again.

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 5 years

Text

The Problem with MSM

So I honestly don't have many followers. I'm also prone to going on tangents. And most of my posts are rooted in politics. Not by choice mind you. I was not the one that decided literally everything in existence is political. I'm also not the one that created the view points that want everything to be political. TL;DR At the bottom.

To start off however, I need you to understand the process of radicalization.

Find someone who feels discontent with how a situation is, or how their life is

Tell this person that what's happening to them is not their fault

Place the blame for this person's problems on a certain group (political group, racial group, religious group, etc.)

Talk to the person like you know how they feel, "drop your guard" and tell them "problems you've had that were not your fault" blaming that same group

Show them that they are either a victim or oppressed in some way, shape, or form.

Slowly start swaying their views further to the extreme, by showing them other instances of "others who are being attacked or are victims" of said group.

Promptly but softly oppose any "differing views" with warped information or flat out lies

Get them to start going to events and taking to others that have already been radicalized

Have you and another radicalized individual, keep track of this person and say you support them and their issues

Sit back and watch

Now this is a rough lost but more or less the bare bones basics of radicalizing other people. Though in some cases it takes more steps and in some others it takes less. So what does this have to do with MSM (Mainstream Media)? Quite a few things in modern day actually.

The job of MSM is to get you information, as fast as humanly possible. This however was not the first goal priority in the past. In the past, the first priority was to cover a story as factually as the could, and look for more information keeping people constantly updated. Here we get to our first real problem for Media today. Technology. The Advent of modern technology has been both a blessing and a curse in this regard. And of course I'm talking about the internet in its current form. The internet being the very center of information distribution in 2019. And it has been for almost 12 years now.

So what did this change? Basically everything we know today. "Old wives tales" are now a Google search away. Feeling sick? WebMD says you have Cancer. Looking for the next hour story? Check CNN's Twitter account. The Internet brought us a great, many things. But it has taken away just as many. MSM has had to slowly move operations into social media in order to try and stay relevant. This because many people have unplugged, and have gone full digital. The only real exceptions being places of business. And with the world at your finger tips at the clock of a button, being factual has lost its relevance. Not to mention that as far back as 2013-2014 activists started working for MSM companies. Most notably progressive activists. This causes many problems we currently see today. Below is an example of what a headline used to look like, and what most headlines look like now:

Normal headline: Shooting in Birmingham leaves 3 dead and several injured during city wide festival.

Headline now: White, Trump supporter, Nazi, KKK, skin head, punches 2 people in hate crime.

See the difference? The first headline shows the basic facts and dives into known details during the article. Often they'd avoid opinions all together. The second one one the other hand, blatantly discloses anything that could generate clicks. Why? Because true or not, outrage sells. So over the past several years, MSM has been slowly radicalizing us. But they do this on a bipartisan level.

Are you black? The cops will kill you, and the white man is evil. Can't find a job? Racism. Are you a woman? Then you're unhappy because "rape culture". Do you regret having sex with that guy? Well guess what? He actually raped you without you realizing. Are you white? You're evil. Are you strait? You're a monster and should give all your money to gay people. Are you a man? You are responsible for every rape ever committed. You're also a pedophile and violent. Are you a strait white man? Oh boy you won the jackpot because you're basically Hitler.

See my point here? MSM spends most of it's time trying to rage bait you into clicking their articles. And in doing so we've gotten so lazy as a country that half the time, we don't even read past the headlines. And MSM knows this. They don't care if you read what they write. They are just radicalizing you so they can keep feeding you outrage. Because the more often they do it, the more often you will click it, skim all of 3 lines and then hop on Twitter and talk about how outraged you are. Sure, we are just as to blame for letting it happen to us, but most of us used to have at least some trust in the media. But after SEVERAL severely awfully false hit pieces that were headline news for almost months, many of us have started staying away from MSM.

What incidents might I be talking about?

Covington Catholic controversy (Almost every media outlet took a 7 second clip and ran with it. Turns out, there was a full 2hr video out there, and the Native American man, whom CNN interviewed, lied his ass off. Most media also chose to ignore the VERY beginning of the video which showcased a group called The Black Hebrew Israelites. These individuals, called Trump a homosexual, called the Native Americans there "Uncle Tomahawk", and said Gay people should not have rights. THESE CATHOLIC STUDENTS, were appalled by this statement. But what did we see in the media? "Racist Maga hat kid threatens and blocks the path of a Poor innocent Native American man."

Duke Lacrosse. Years after these kids were crucified by the Media and many others, the girl actually came out saying it never happened. You know who reported on this? Next to no one.

Ferguson. Now as controversial as this one is, the media took and RAN with it. What followed after the skewed coverage was a cult like gathering that led to phrases like, "hands up don't shoot" and "oink oink, bang bang". But Obama had the issue federally investigated. Both witnesses and the coroner report said basically the same thing. That he was aggressively wrestling with the cop trying to take his gun. But, it's too late. Now all cops are evil, and Democrat politicians are quoting it like it happened yesterday, and claiming the cop guilty. Why? Because MSM already got what they needed. They radicalized the individuals they wanted, people who will come back to them for, "facts".

And what does all of this boil down to? A video that made me write this out.

2 things need to be said here. 1. The "manifesto" as it were, was actually debunked to have been uploaded by the shooter, by the site admin himself. As well as several other sources. 2. If, by some chance the manifesto was real, and he had someone upload it for him, he mentions several liberal talking points, like universal basic income, saving the environment, among other left policies.

But this brings me back to both the beginning and to this story. Assuming for a moment, the manifesto was his. How did this happen? Most of you might just jump and say, "RACIST NAZIS", or something slightly more colorful. But here is the thing. MSM is partly responsible for all of this. Assuming the conspiracy that the CIA or FBI is responsible is false, I agree with the YouTuber in the picture. I believe that if you belittle and berate someone enough over time, you can cause them to do extreme things. I mean look at this site. Look at Twitter. Look at MSM. "White people bad", "white people are evil" "K*LL all whites" "white privilege", "fuck men", "male tears", "man spreading", "mansplaining", "Yes all men". All of this. This is popular. This is a trend. And it's unacceptable. Because frankly, it's basically bullying someone into a corner. Personally? I've been told by a few companies that are scared of social justice warriors and the online hate mob, that their company is actively not hiring white individuals. And I wish, REALLY WISH, I was making that up.

Is it any wonder, that people who go to the internet as an escape end up in a low point in their lives and then decide to do something awful? And it's the same with school shootings too. The news puts out, the name, ethnicity, how tall they are, and their entire life story, for weeks at a time. And now for much longer, because they support the desire to ban guns. So they need these things to happen more often. So the glorify the shooter, and keep talking about him/them for months. But here is where the story gets fun.

Columbine's shooting, was actually supposed to be a bombing. The kids who did it? Not the "school losers" the media talked about. The trench coat club? They were not even apart of it. More info on that here. As well as other places on Google.

youtube

More or less This video covers what the media got wrong in their rush to cover everything. What they did not intend on, was making these two boys heros to those bullied in school. Mostly boys, who are torn down and told they aren't enough, that they don't matter, they are isolated, bullied, harassed. So they look for someone who stood up to their bullies. What they were given, was a sociopath who manipulated a suicidal boy into helping him commit mass murder. Almost all of MSM were quick to say they were bullied into it. What's worse however, is Parkland. The Parkland 5, (the students whom MSM propped up for months) one of them came out admitting, that she bullied the guy who shot up the school. Said he was weird and that she needed to do it. This is one of the teens the media has PROPPED UP, saying we should listen to their infinite wisdom. A girl who is probably half responsible for the shooting.

Start paying attention. Start doing research. And for the love of all that is holy, STOP BULLYING PEOPLE! I don't care what your narrative is, or what it means. IE:

White people are human

Black people are human

Hispanic people are human

Gay people are human

Strait people are human

Women are human

Men are human

Stop normalizing anything to the contrary. Because when you do, you become part of the problem.

TL;DR The media only cares about themselves and clicks. They don't care who they radicalize, so long as you keep giving them traffic. Which for them is money. Do your research, look into things, and don't bully people. I'm looking at you progressives.

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murderingpieceofshit · 3 years

Text

The Wrath of God, Ch. 3: Losing it

by @finney13s

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: General, M/M Fandoms: Preacher (TV) Relationships: Proinsias Cassidy/EccariusProinsias Cassidy/Jesse CusterJesse Custer/Tulip O'HareTulip O'Hare/Eccarius Characters: Proinsias Cassidy, Eccarius, Jesse Custer, Tulip O'Hare Additional Tags: Angst, Gun Violence, Blood and Gore Author’s notes: This story is still evolving. Rating, warnings, characters, relationships and tags are due to change as the story continues so check them before reading.

“The Wrath of God” is the 2nd part of “The Chronicles of Cassidy and Eccarius”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Chapter summary: The group manages to get to a motel for the night. And then things spiral horribly out of hand.

Read the chapter on AO3 >>

A short clip below the cut as the whole chapter won’t fit into one post here.

They stopped at a used cars dealer in the next town. They got out of the car and Cassidy popped open a large umbrella for him and Eccarius. Eccarius' eyes widened when he saw that the suitcase from the roof was gone. “This… this can't be real” he stuttered and tried to grasp that he had just lost the only clothes he had managed to get with him. “So it was the suitcase making the screeching sound” Jesse stated the obvious when he turned to close the car door behind him. “I should've listened to my premonitions and remained at home" Eccarius huffed and looked at Cassidy desperately. “Ay, hold on to your knickers” Cassidy tried to sooth Eccarius. “There's nothing we can do to fix it now is there?” “Obviously there is not, I know that! It doesn't mean I have to like it.” Eccarius snapped peeved. Then he pointed a finger at Jesse over the roof of the car. “And YOU! What were you thinking? That was a whole new level of incautious if I've ever witnessed one and I've witnessed quite a few during my time.” Tulip and Cassidy agreed and Jesse raised his hands in a surrendering motion. “Well I am sorry that I seized the day” he said displeased. “Jesse, you made us fugitives running from the law just like that." Tulip said furiously and snapped her fingers. "God knows we didn't need any of that. If it was just me and you I could've lived with it but you dragged Cassidy and Eccarius to this as well! Some friend you are!" Jesse looked at his feet and remained silent. “Did you even look at what's in the bag?” she continued. “Well, I think it's money” Jesse replied hesitantly. “Well go and check the bag then!” Tulip huffed.

Jesse grabbed the bag from the front seat and set it on the hood of the car. He zipped it open and stared at the contents baffled. “So what is it?” Tulip asked and walked around the car to see what's in the bag. Then she froze and looked at Jesse, saying: "Clothes. The bag is full of clothes." “Why would someone steal a bag of clothes?” Cassidy asked. “They're designer clothes” Tulip said taking a shirt from the bag and examining them closely. “This says it's Gucci. And this jacket is Armani. The rest seem to be same labels too. They fucking stole designer clothes. It must have been some kind of warehouse for a high fashion store.” She stuffed the shirts back to the bag frustrated and looked at Jesse angrily. “Well that sucks. What are we going to do now?” Cassidy asked.

Tulip shook her head and raised her hands on it, then shaking her fists at Jesse. “We need to ditch the car. Dammit! For clothes! Argh!" She turned and stomped to the car yard. “Well, we ain't got all day, y'all!” she yelled behind her.

Tulip turned down every and each suggestion of the sleazy salesman until he took them to the backyard. There was an old green Plymouth Roadrunner standing in mint condition with tinted windows. “Ain't this a beauty” she admired the car walking around it and checking the insides, forgetting the dire situation for a moment. “I'm taking this one.” No one argued. After all, she was the one driving. The salesman was luckily more than happy to make the deal without any papers and in a minuscule price as he got Tulip's Chavelle in exchange. Soon they were speeding away towards west.

They drove in silence as everyone was sulking. Eccarius was staring blankly at the scenery running by. "I really didn't need any of this, not now of all times" he thought to himself. Yes, he had done very bad things in his life but never had he gotten caught for any of it. Well, not before Cassidy. And now he was in this situation thanks to someone else. He was scared. Something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. What if all his crimes came out into the light if they got caught? He had just gotten on top of his addiction and now he was pushed into this mess, stuck in it without a way out. How would he cope with it? Could he? He felt the rage and the urge to pay back what had now been done to him burning inside and he had to fight to keep himself from acting on it. Finally Cassidy poked him on the shoulder. “Ay, penny for you thoughts.” Eccarius kept staring out of the window. "What do you want me to say, Cassidy? I just managed to get my problems in order somehow and everything looked better already.” he replied and continued mockingly: “But then this... this righteous man of God got a wonderful idea to stick his hands into a trap, I lost all the clothes I had and, which is even worse, I'm going to be hunted for stealing a bag of clothes yet I had nothing to do with it and I can't go back to my home now or maybe ever. I am walking on a thin line here" he said angrily. "Oy, don't blame it on me 'ere, it was all 'im. I'm as miffed about this as you" Cassidy replied. “Can we just stop pointing fingers” Jesse fumed from the front seat. “No we can't!” Cassidy said angrily. “Christ! God knows I'm someone who has no right to point any of 'em at anyone but you really screwed up this time! Big time. Me best mate!” Jesse stared at the road ahead saying nothing. “But ey” Cass said to Eccarius, “we now have clothes for you. The ones in the bag.” Eccarius looked at Cass opening his mouth to speak, then wrinkled his nose and sighed deeply. “How would you know if they even fit?” he asked displeased. “Well I don't but that's not the point. Isn't it at least something?” Cassidy replied, trying desperately to come up with anything even slightly positive from the situation. “Come 'ere you mope" he said and grabbed Eccarius pulling him in his arms. Eccarius laid his head on Cassidy's shoulder closing his eyes.

They drove the rest of the day just stopping for some gas. When it got dark they stopped at a motel. “Is it safe for us to stop like this?” Eccarius asked worriedly when they got out of the car. The motel was old and ramshackle. "I mean, either one of us could drive if needed” he pointed at himself and Cassidy trying desperately keep them not being forced to stay in this dilapidated building. “I'm tired, pissed off and I wanna sleep in a real bed” Tulip replied and shut the car door. “I've had enough excitement for one day.” Then she continued looking at Jesse: “And you and I ain't sharing a room.”

Read the full chapter on AO3 >>

#preacher #preacher fan fiction #preacher fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #proinsias cassidy #cassidy #cassidy x eccarius #joe gilgun #adam croasdell #eccarius #jesse custer #tulip o'hare #preacher amc #the chronicles of cassidy and eccarius

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