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eff4freddie · 5 months ago

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After She Left | One

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader Ongoing

Words: 3k Two | Series Masterlist

Series Summary: You've lived in Jackson a long time, finding a sanctuary of comfort and predictability at the end of the world. As Jackson's only teacher, your role is to foster the curiosity of the youngest residents. Including the newest arrival, Ellie, and her weirdly cranky not-Dad, Joel. They threaten to upend your life more than any fungus. Series Warnings: slow burn, smut, Ellie being a little shit but we love her, friends to lovers, grief and loss, complicated feelings, canon-typical violence, Joel is a good dad, Joel has a complicated history, so do you Minors DNI 18+

Chapter warnings: Canon typical violence, reader is a little ambivalent about being alive, grief and loss, no Joel yet but he will make his appearance next chapter

You’d been 18 when the world ended. Surviving the first few days thanks entirely, as it turned out, to your baby sister’s gluten intolerance, you’d boarded the back of a military truck with a bag of your belongings and her little hand tucked into yours. You’d been separated from your parents, their truck ahead of yours, and when it veered off in the other direction on the highway you never saw them again. You heard rumours about what happened to the other trucks, and if you allowed yourself any time to consider them you knew in your gut they were true. You’d known the moment your mum and dad’s lives were snuffed out, because you’d felt it in your chest, miles and miles away. You didn’t burn candles for them on the windowsill in the hope that they would find their way back.

Old enough to get drafted into FEDRA, smart enough to stick around until the shit started hitting the fan, you kept your head down and your mouth shut and lasted years, until you were finding yourself lying more and more to your commanding officers just to keep yourself safe, to keep the people you cared tucked out of the watchful eye of your superiors. Until you were slipping scared families out the perimeter and wondering how long before you joined them.

Not long, as it turned out. You were 32 when the world ended, again. When your sister contracted something nasty, cut herself on a fence or stepped on a nail, the infection coursing red and angry up her veins towards her heart. There were no antibiotics, another shipment was due in a few weeks, but all of the higher ups were stockpiling, knowing that their time was limited, that eventually they would come to need the supplies to barter for their lives. You tried all your connections, you worked every rank you had to get her some, and when you failed you carried her into the bathtub and poured boiling water into the wound, her wasting body too exhausted to howl in agony at the burn. She died as you held her hand, stretched out on the bathroom floor beneath her. It was a mercy for her, you knew, and your penance for having propped up a cruel system, for having played a part in it at all.

You carried her body to the centre of the QZ, not letting her burn in the pyres built for the infected, not letting her mix in with the crawling vines. You laid her at the bottom of the steps to FEDRA HQ and left her there, the entire QZ peeking out from behind their curtains to witness her, a signpost at the edge of an impermeable, intractable border; who you had been, who you had become.

You were threatened with hanging, and you didn’t care. Your patrol partner packed your bag for you and smuggled you out, your QZ-issued rifle strapped to your back. You had left the QZ without even really knowing it, your partner hissing at you to just keep moving as he pulled back the barbed wire to let you through, and you did what you had been doing since you were drafted, which was just exactly what you were told.

You stumbled through the landscape, all amygdala and hind-brain, alone and unable to feel anything but the absence, but the loss. Knee-deep in a ravine you contemplated filling your bag with boulders and letting it pull you down into oblivion. You were never sure, even years later, why you didn’t. It scared you that there was something you couldn’t name, were never sure what it was such that you could ever rely on it to be there again.

You kept going. You were reasonable enough with your rifle, and you ate what you killed, and you stayed on the move. Headed west because you liked following the sun as it set, feeling like you were trudging towards an end of something. You passed camps, watching for the warm glow of fires or smoke on the horizon and heading in the other direction. You’d heard about raiders, about the weird religious cults that had set themselves up all over the country. As the trees thickened up, as the paths became more overgrown, you grew less and less cautious, began to feel like it was just you and the sky. You did well, considering you didn’t know why you were bothering, or where you were going. Some days you sat in the warmth of the sun and let it filter down to your bones. Some days you were so weary, so heavy, that you slumped against trees with your bag strapped to your chest and let your mind empty itself completely. You knew that if you pressed too hard and too long on a limb it would go numb.

Before the end of the world your family had gone camping every summer, and out here you felt more connected to them then you had in years. You couldn’t be sure how long you travelled, but you watched the leaves going brown and red on the canopy overhead. Your Dad had taught you enough to survive until the cold came, you realised. Your entire knowledge of the wilderness ending with the summer solstice. You had no plan to survive the winter, nothing other than a tarp you would string up between trees for shelter, a box of matches you fought tooth and nail to keep dry. You didn’t mind the idea of your story ending out here, found yourself ambivalent about it. If there was a place to wink out of existence it would be here, alone with the birdsong and the gradually freezing dirt beneath you. You had done well to last this long, had picked up more than you’d realised in your years with FEDRA, in the end of the world.

The nights though, were different. You found you could be philosophical about your impending death in the daylight, but as the nights grew colder and the chill got into your bones you were forced to consider the realities of this particular kind of end. You remembered reading about hypothermia in school, that people go mad from it, from the cold and the disorientation as their body temperature drops, as their muscles stop working. That they go delirious, suddenly feel like they’re burning up, strip off all their clothes and hasten their deaths. You didn’t particularly want to be found naked, didn’t particularly wanted to be found at all.

You started keeping the fire going in the darkness, knowing your Dad would admonish you if he was there, tempting fate and the lurking dangers right to your feet. It wasn’t like you had all that many alternatives. You hoped that when you saw him he would understand.

So it was on one particularly cold night, when the wind whipped the branches above you and rippled the long grass, that you were joined at your fireside. You had heard the rustle of the footsteps, had your rifle over your lap. You were eating the last of the rabbit you’d snared the day before. You wanted to go with a full belly, wanted the victory of at least not having starved.

‘You out here alone?’ the voice said from the darkness, and you raised your hands above your head.

‘Yes,’ you said, your voice rusted over from disuse.

‘You hurt?’ the man said, and you were surprised by this line of questioning.

‘No?’ you answered, peering into the darkness over the fire. You could see that he was holding a gun on you, that he was peering at you through its sight. You weren’t afraid of him. The fire was warm on your face.

‘You’re out here alone in the night and you’re not hurt?’ he answered, and you nodded. ‘Why you out here at all?’ he asked, and you sighed, dropping your hands to your sides.

‘That’s a long and boring story,’ you said, and you watched as he stepped forward, sensing you were neither a threat nor treating him as one.

‘That’s FEDRA issued,’ he said, gesturing to your rifle. You nodded. ‘Kansas?’

‘Chicago,’ you replied.

‘Heard things aren’t great in Kansas.’

‘As opposed to everywhere else’, you said. You saw him grin at you. As he came closer you could make out his black hair, his wiry frame. He looked tired and cold, but better fed then you. You might be able to outrun him, but not out-muscle him. Were you in any way inclined.

‘You’ve made it far,’ he said, and you shrugged.

‘Have I?’

‘Yes ma’am.’ You noticed his southern twang, and you liked it more than you expected. ‘Tommy,’ he said, pointing to his chest. He regarded you for a moment more. ‘If you’re lost in the darkness…?’ he asked, his eyebrows raised.

‘What?’ you asked, and he shrugged his shoulders.

‘Nothin’, he said. ‘Just…wondering.’

For a long moment you examined each other. He had an entire pack on his back, a rolled-up swag and a knife on his belt. He swung his gun over his shoulder, an older rifle, duct tape strapping it together in places. You looked down at yours in your lap. You wondered if he was out of bullets, too.

‘Mind if I sit?’ he asked, coming forward again, his hands in the air. ‘Just want to get warm, the cold is bitin’ tonight.’

You put your hands on the barrel of your rifle, and he watched them, gently. ‘Ain’t gonna hurt ya,’ he said, and you swallowed. Maybe you wanted him to. You weren’t sure anymore.

‘Haven’t really been around anyone for a while,’ you said, because you were starting to realise you were being awkward, had forgotten how to be a person when all you’d been doing for months was hanging out with trees.

‘You don’t wanna,’ he said, and you smiled.

‘You included?’ you asked.

‘Nah,’ he said, raising his palms to the fire. ‘M’alright. We all done things, I guess.’

You didn’t particularly want to think about those things. Truth be told you hadn’t actually done that much, had made a fucking terrible FEDRA soldier, kept trying to do community liaison and relationship building to the ire and suspicion of your commanding officers. You’d tried to argue that people would trust them more, that there would be better outcomes for everyone that way, that FEDRA had a duty, something something serve and protect.

They had told you, quite squarely, that no one gave a flying fuck about trust.

Which wasn’t to say you hadn’t been around death; you had, it was everywhere. You had witnessed hangings, had seen people beaten to death in the streets, never really knowing if it was at the hands of civilians. But you’d never been selected for the quarantine centre, rarely had to venture outside the gates to patrol. You’d been on cleanup, had been on curfew, had stood at the top of the gates and stared at the perimeter until your eyes watered. But you weren’t a killer, as much as your superiors wanted you to be. They couldn’t put you on the line where you might hesitate. For the longest time you had been ashamed of it, had considered it a weakness. Out here in the long grass you felt your 19-year-old self take you into her arms and forgive you for it.

‘Where you headed?’ he asked, and you shook your head.

‘Stayin’ put,’ you said.

‘Out here? There’s nothin’ out here.’

‘I’m here,’ you said, and you were feeling like you wouldn’t mind if he just left you to it, actually. Shot you and took your stuff. Whichever, just to get it done.

‘You know, there’s a group of people you might be interested to meet,’ he said, and you gawped at him.

‘What about me right now makes you think I want to meet anyone?’ you asked, and he chuckled.

‘People are trying to turn the tides, on FEDRA, on the whole…QZ situation. You have any…unrest back in Chicago?’

You had heard whispers of uprisings in other QZs, of little pockets of resistance. Things were going badly in some of them, Kansas having to get more brutal to keep things under control.

‘Nothing organised,’ you said.

‘Mmm. I came from Boston, things are getting…hotter out there. I’m on my way, actually, trying to-’

‘Don’t recruit me, don’t even bother,’ you said. ‘I’m not one for community life.’

Even as you said it you knew that wasn’t true. There had been families in the QZ, little kids born behind walls and not knowing any different, their laughter reminding you of when your sister was their age. You’d brought supplies for families struggling to get to the breadline, held the hands of scared women as their husbands were sent outside the walls on patrol. Had got a widow and her two kids smuggled out on a supply run, a ransom in ration cards to get them tucked safely in the back of a truck and carried over the threshold. You had always wanted to help people, and you’d done it, had been good at it. You considered the fact that all this time alone had made you drift further from your centre then you’d noticed at the time.

‘If it doesn’t work out,’ Tommy continued, ‘I heard of another place. Out in Wyoming. You could get there before winter.’

You gazed at him, your face aching from having talked so long to another person. You clicked your jaw.

‘Why you tellin’ me that?’ you asked. He leant over to his pack, pulling out a map and marking it with dirt under his nail.

‘You didn’t shoot me on sight,’ he said, and he grinned at you. ‘There’s still a bit of the South in me, darlin’, and where I come from, we don’t leave women alone in the night without a way home.’

You felt a little turn of something in your belly, a flickering. The way he spoke made you nostalgic for the old world, for the time when a sentence like that wasn’t either insane or suicidal. You waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh at you, for him to lash out. You took the map in your hands, felt the quiver in them, realised with considerable surprise you were nervous. Something, some feeling, was returning back to your aching limb.

It wasn’t that you had been a particularly strong student, back when schools were a thing. It wasn’t even that you really liked teaching, it was just that you quite liked kids, and the teenagers almost as much, and you liked to read and could kind of remember some chemistry, and you weren’t all that good on a horse. Barely in Jackson a week and you found yourself at the front of the all-ages classroom, trying to figure out how to explain the before times, trying not to wonder whether there was any point.

You’d made it just as winter set in, not really believing this little ramshackle town would exist even as you stepped through the gate. You could see that it had been a gated community in the before times, that work was going on to sure it up, to expand it. The original gates were being replaced and patrolled, and you offered to keep watch, the setting familiar to your time in the QZ. Maria, the daughter of the founder and chair of the Town Council, politely and kindly explained they didn’t let newbies protect the perimeter until they were proven. You understood what she was telling you. Until they were sure you wouldn’t go postal and mow them down in their beds.

You shared your first house with two other women, each of you having your own room. Maria had apologised, as if she hadn’t gifted you a chance at another life, and you almost laughed in her face. In the QZ you had shared a two-bedroom apartment with four other soldiers. This was an insane amount of space, of safety, enough that you felt lost in it, swamped by it, sleeping out on the couch some nights just to be closer to your roommates’ doors.

Maria promised more buildings were coming, and you could hear the sound of construction, of manual labour, every hour there was light. When you started at the school, you’d only had six students, total, but within a year you had eight. You moved into your own house, took shifts on the perimeter on nights when you weren’t teaching in the morning. You stayed close to your roommates, even as they all moved out on their own, ate in the mess hall and sometimes had a nip in the Tipsy Bison before bed. You waited, all that time, for the other shoe to drop, for the town council to turn despotic, for the peace to crack.

You celebrated your 34th birthday with a cake baked by your students, carefully avoiding the lumps of sloppily mixed batter in the pan. You felt yourself grow a little soft around your middle, watched the lines carve into the skin around your eyes. You met and grew bored with a couple of men around the place. Watched your best friend grow round with her baby, read books to her bump as she gave you shit for trying to teach a foetus.

You vouched for Tommy when he arrived, scraggly and worn and far less idealistic, making up a lie that you had heard of him from your time in the QZ, of the infamous best-shot-in-Boston, of the man with the perfect aim. You weren’t sure what it was that made it possible for him to stay; your outlandish tales, Maria’s instant attraction, or just the fact that he used to be a contractor before he was in the army, two facts you’d wished you’d known before you’d launched into an implausible and highly emotive treatise for him to stay. You had convinced no one, but Tommy had admired your attempt, and you’d let him crash in your spare bedroom until he got his own place. You watched the way Maria’s eyes followed him when he walked through town. It just so happened that he got his place faster than any other arrival you’d seen.

You had a couple more birthdays, watched the town grow to total self-sufficiency, to house an entire community. You watched the seasons turn from atop Jackson’s walls, your eyes trained on the horizon, thinking of how you were going to try and teach the periodic table in the morning. Thought back to the long grass and the tall trees, of a time when you were alone and travelling without a destination, of a time when you wanted to fade into the air around you, release your atoms back to the universe that created them.

You turned your face to the stars, crisp and clear in the night sky over Jackson. Informed your family they’d need to keep waiting, just a little while. Taglist (let me know if you'd like me to add you) @harriedandharassed

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou

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antifainternational · 1 year ago

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Since youre antifascist, how about you give us a definition of fascism? What exactly makes someone a fascist? (and in case you use terms such as left-wing or right-wing be sure to define them too)

Guess it's been a while since a clever Anon challenged us to define fascism, huh? Right, let's get into it: Via the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum:

Yale professor Jason Stanley:

“Fascism is a creation of race hatred and its politically organized expression.” - Willhelm Reich, The Mass Psychology of Fascism (1933).

“Fascism is capitalism plus murder.” - Upton Sinclair

“Repression by brute force is always a confession of the inability to make use of the better weapons of the intellect — better because they alone give promise of final success. This is the fundamental error from which Fascism suffers and which will ultimately cause its downfall…that its foreign policy, based as it is on the avowed principle of force in international relations, cannot fail to give rise to an endless series of wars that must destroy all of modern civilization requires no further discussion. To maintain and further raise our present level of economic development, peace among nations must be assured. But they cannot live together in peace if the basic tenet of the ideology by which they are governed is the belief that one’s own nation can secure its place in the community of nations by force alone. ” - Ludwig von Mises, Liberalism: A Socio-Economic Exposition (1927).

“Spent most of the day reading fascisti leaflets. They certainly have turned the whole country into an army. From cradle to grave one is cast in the mould of fascismo and there can be no escape … It is certainly a socialist experiment in that it destroys individuality. It destroys liberty.” - Harold Nicolson, The Harold Nicolson Diaries : 1919-1964 (2004).

“The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerated the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than the democratic state itself. That in its essence is fascism: ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or any controlling private power.” - Franklin D. Roosevelt

“A fascist is one whose lust for money or power is combined with such an intensity of intolerance toward those of other races, parties, classes, religions, cultures, regions or nations as to make him ruthless in his use of deceit or violence to attain his ends….If we define an American fascist as one who in case of conflict puts money and power ahead of human beings, then there are undoubtedly several million fascists in the United States.” - Henry A. Wallace

“Fascism is the cult of organised murder, invented by the arch-enemies of society. It tends to destroy civilization and revert man to his most barbarous state. Mussolini and Hitler might well be called the devils of an age, for they are playing hell with civilization.” - Marcus Garvey, Authors take Sides on the Spanish War, 1937 Philosophy Tube's breakdown of the elements of fascism is very thorough and recommended if you're not the reading type. But do you read books? We hope so if you're looking to engage in political discussion about anything. Here are some books that tackle the definition of fascism, in whole or in part, that we would recommend to you (check/order from your local library!) Mark Bray's highly-accessible Antifa: The Anti-Fascist Handbook is a great starting point for this topic.

Columbia history professor Robert O. Paxton's excellent book The Anatomy of Fascism goes into this in great detail.

There's also Umberto Eco's The Eternal Fascist

or his "practical list for identifying fascists" as well as Hannah Arendt's seminal The Origins of Totalitarianism

We hope you weren't looking for a simple answer to the complex question of "what is fascism?" Anon, just as we hope you're up to taking our challenge of checking out all of the above so you're curiosity is satisfied and you're well-versed on the topic.

#antifa #fascism #defining fascism

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sliceofcake-cupoftea · 2 years ago

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The Tanuki Yokai

Request: @edenshiba Hi! I saw that your request is open so, can i request hyuga x Rocky's little sister oneshot? Like, she sneaks out from their house and ended up at daruma's territory and hyuga meet her at his casino? It would be great if you get this message and create this. Thank you for reading

Character(s): Hyuga (x reader), Rocky

Plot Line: Your elder brother had always been protective of you. Always. Especially with how sickly and ill you often got. However, Rocky wasn't here to help you, not this time.

Warnings: Suicide, Attempted murder, violence, bullying, nudity, mature content

You understood your brother’s worries. You really did.

Afterall you couldn’t imagine how hard it was for him to see you all that way. Your mother and elder sister hanging by their necks in the living room while you laid there unmoving on the couch; an empty bottle of pills your mother had crushed into your food on the coffee table.

It was a miracle you survived. An absolute miracle the doctors said.

So, it was no wonder Rocky was so protective of you.

Especially as the miracle didn’t help your fragile health from the aftermath of the attempted suicide. The pills had damaged your stomach and liver causing you to have an intolerance for many foods. Even the slightest change or new thing from your usual diet could make you sick to the point you even threw up blood.

However, the foods you ate could hardly count as nutritional. Your biggest challenge right now was getting enough Vitamin C, the acidic foods too much for your stomach lining. It made you frail. So much so it causes you to catch illnesses quite often or to be just straight malnutrition.

It made sense for your brother to worry.

Especially in a time like this one.

You shouldn't have listened to those girls you met in your college lecture when they offered to hang out with you this weekend. You should have been able to tell something was off by the giggles they made under their breaths as they spoke. But, you couldn’t do anything about it now.

Not when you were stuck in the rain in a forest south of Rascals territory. The girls having run off with your jacket and phone. Leaving you in just your thin sundress and purse, both dripping wet. You hadn’t really dressed for the weather, thinking you would be inside at a mall.

Another cough rips through you as you continue to trudge through the forest, hoping the dirt path you were following was heading north back to civilization. Especially as your coughs kept getting more and more painful. Your throat feeling as if it was on fire as tears stung at your eyes.

“What the hell…?” As you bring a hand up to cover another cough that rips through you, you turn your blurry gaze up from the path. Seeing a group of men and women staring at you, confused yet disgusted looks on their faces. All of them dressed up in fancy jewels and clothes. A stark contrast to your muddy and soaked white dress that stuck to you like a second skin.

“Fricking weirdo,” One of the male’s murmurs, flicking his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, “Let’s just get inside.”

Attempting to catch your breath, you lean against the bark of a tree, watching as the group seems to follow a much larger gravel path leading up to an old shrine temple. Though, as you continued to stare at the shrine, you knew it was likely nothing of the sort. The iconic red and white jackets of the men guarding the front of it are a dead giveaway of what it truly was.

The Daruma Ikka Base.

Shit.

An horrendous cough spills out of you, nearly bringing up to your knees as your legs shake. The cold chill of the wind rattling your bones, making them ache with every millimeter of movement. Though, it is on the last one, that you knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Through tear covered lashes, you pull your hand away from your mouth to see the ever so slight scarlet stain on your palm. While not huge or panic worthy, it was a sign your body was not reacting well with your extended exposure with the elements. If you continued like this, you would surely fall ill.

“Isn’t that…?”

You understood it was a terrible decision–an absolutely god awful one–but you really had no other choice. You knew from the stares of the Daruma members out front as you passed them that they had an inkling of an idea of who you were. At least a suspicion you were associated with the White Rascals. But you had to continue on.

You had to.

Especially as you take a shivering sigh of relief when the door of the base shuts behind you, enveloping you in the warmth of the building. While the high amount of smoke causes a few coughs to rip their way through you, causing guests and members alike to stare at you as you pass, you ignore it. Afterall your soaked and shivering form was a sight to see for the people of Daruma Ikka.

Honestly, it would only be a matter of time before–

“Rocky would have a heart attack if he could see you right now.”

There he was. You knew that voice. Of course, you did.

“Hyuga…” You murmur, seeing the leader of Daruma Ikka in front of you. Likely having just gotten off his throne to see what had caused Rocky’s precious younger sister to show up at his gambling den like this.

“You’re in awful shape, Bake-danuki.” While your eyebrows furrow at the strange nickname, you knew better than to question the crazy leader of Daruma. Instead letting him do as he pleases as he brings a hand up to grab your chin. While he was not harsh, he was also not gentle in his method of tilting your face up to look at him, “Very awful shape.”

You watch as his eyes seem to trail across your face–almost as if he was examining you with those hazy eyes of his–before stopping at your lips. His hand shifts, bringing up a thumb to touch your lips and you nearly freeze as he rubs across the surface of them.

What was he doing?

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long to know as Hyuga pulls his hand away, his thumb covered in scarlet from the crimson liquid that stained your lips. You wince as he pops the finger into his mouth, seeming to hum as he confirmed that it was what he thought it was.

“Well…” Hyuga starts as he finally takes his thumb out of his mouth, looking at you in a lazy manner, “as much as I would love to brawl with your brother today…”

He stretches, walking away suddenly to one of the members. Without even asking, Hyuga pulls the jacket off of their shoulders and makes his way back. You watch with uneasy eyes as he places the stolen jacket around your shoulder, patiently fixing it so that it fully envelopes your figure. Even pulling the fabric forward and folding it over your shivering hands that you held clutched to your chest before continuing, “I just opened this gambling den today and I would rather not have those Rascals destroying my gang’s months of hard work. At least, not on opening day.”

A smirk envelopes his lips as grabs a fist full of the jacket in the front, “Perhaps another day.”

Without another word, Hyuga begins to walk, almost dragging your figure along by the front of your jacket as he leads you. Thankfully for your shaking and aching form, the young man seems to be a rather slow walker; in practically no rush to get you to wherever he was leading you.

As you enter another room, seeming to be someone’s bedroom, Hyuga calls out one more order before disappearing from sight, “Oi, sit on the futon over there after taking off your shoes. Don’t go anywhere.”

What a strange man, you can’t help but think as you follow Hyuga’s order. Kicking off your muddy shoes and peeling off your socks, you slowly make your way to the futon bed. It doesn’t take you long to realize whose it likely was. From the empty can of beer and Kiseru by the side, you had no doubt this was Hyuga’s.

“Oi,” Turning your head around at the call, you see Hyuga had reentered the room. In his hands he carried a bucket of water, seeming hot by the steam wafting from it, and a handful of towels, “I thought I told you to sit.”

“I–” You start, contemplating whether or not to argue with him, “I didn’t want to get your bed… dirty.”

Your voice trails off at the end as Hyuga lazily walks over, plopping down the bucket on the ground allowing some of the water to spill over onto the bed and wooden floor. Why were you even surprised at this point?

With a sigh, you take a seat on the bed as Hyuga sits across from you cross legged on the ground. One of his knees grazing against your own as he places the towels into the bucket. Allowing them to soak for a moment.

“Hey,” Hyuga suddenly says, his voice losing that usual sharp edge of it, “Do you think you could clean yourself?”

You contemplate his question for a moment. Bringing out one of your hands that were still shaking furiously and attempting to move your fingers. You wince at the aching feeling in them and slowly lock eyes with Hyuga, the young male watching you through lidded eyes, before shaking your head.

He sighs for a moment and brings his neck back to stretch it as curses slip out underneath his breath.

“Well… then I’m going to need you…” He takes a moment to wet his lips as he looks at you, “…to take off your dress.”

“Oh.” A pause resounds throughout the room as Hyuga waits, his eyes still piercing into your own, which had long drifted to the ground, “...Okay.”

It was surprisingly anti-climatic if you were going to be honest. For the fact no one had seen you naked except for your mother, you expected this big, insane, moment to happen. Especially as your mind went wild with ideas. True, your heart was practically beating out of your chest and you jumped slightly every time Hyuga’s hand accidentally touched your skin whenever he dragged the cloth against your body. But, it wasn’t as if he stared or touched you. Even with your bare breasts right out in the open for him to look at, his gaze never drifted too far from his objective of cleaning the mud and rain from your skin.

“Don’t worry,” Hyuga suddenly says, breaking the silence that was thick between you two since he started. An ever so slight chuckle escaping him, “I won’t tell your brother.”

“That’s…That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“I know.” Hyuga seems to finally finish his cleaning as he tosses the dirty towel back into the bucket, “But, you have nothing to worry about it. You're not like one of the Oiran outside, I’m not going to touch you like that.”

Perhaps it was because you were delirious. Perhaps it was because you were straight ignorant. But, the words tumble out of your mouth before you can even contemplate their meaning.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did—”

Thankfully you caught yourself at the last moment, realizing what you had just asked of Hyuga, but the damage had already been done. A wide smirk seeming to catch on Hyuga’s lips as he throws his head back, this time louder curses leaving his lips as he attempts to ground himself. As he swings his head back around, his smirk grows wider at your bashful expression.

“Mischievous, Bake-danuki,” Hyuga teases, bringing up a hand to pull at your nose. The action causing you to squeak as you quickly escape and bring a hand up to cover your nose in disbelief, “Almost as bad as the Kitsune. I wish I knew of this side sooner or I wouldn’t have sent someone to grab that brother of yours. Shit.”

He brings a hand up to run over the scrub of his facial hair, stretching his jaw as he sighs. This time his eyes fully traveling your body as he pleased, seeming to soak in what he saw.

“Shit.” He curses once more, “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

You can’t help but giggle as Hyuga lounges lazily on his side and lets out a heavy sigh. His mischievous smirk returns, this time a promise attached with it.

“Maybe next time I rumble with the Tanuki, I’ll kidnap their precious Bake-danuki. That will be a great prize.”

His eyes trail up to look into yours,

“You free tomorrow to get kidnapped?”

#high and low fic #high and low x reader #high & low #high and low #h&l #high&low #high and low hyuga #high&low hyuga #high&low x reader

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poetry-protest-pornography · 2 years ago

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I wrote a little Till The World Ends fic, hope you like it! I'm kind of surprised how short this ended up being, and maybe I'll expand it at some point, but I'm happy with it.

This is... Not what I expected my first fic in this fandom to be, but here it is.

Please share it if you like it (and maybe get more people talking about this incredible show)

Violence Like A Heartbeat

Long loved his sister more than anything.

He tried to keep Fai from the worst realities of their parent's drug running, but she was upsettingly fascinated with the violence, and then even more upsettingly good at it. It ran through her veins and thrummed under her skin in a way that Long could never understand, in a way that he couldn't quite understand.

But even though the blood and the anger fit around Fai in a way they didn't fit Long, even though it all made him feel a little wrong footed, his sister was his whole world. So, he just added her thirst for blood to the list of things that made Fai who she was, and decided to love her a little harder. He didn't think that it would soften her edges– Fai was a sharpened knife, and he didn't want to take that away from her – he just knew she needed it, needed a beat to follow that wasn't the echoes of gunshots.

Then, he met Joke, and Joke's appetite for violence matched– and perhaps exceeded – Fai's, and maybe that was ultimately what made it so easy to fall in love with him; his heart was already so ready to move in time with the rhythm of pounding fists and falling bullets and last words: a side effect of syncing his life with Fai's.

As time passed, his love for his sister and for Joke only grew, but his tolerance for the violence shrank, it began to turn his stomach and make his hands shake. Fai and Joke stepped in where he needed them, when they were handling what was once his parent's drug business, now his and Fai's.

And then the world started to end.

And while the sudden lawlessness only seemed to increase his little family's need for bullets and fighting and blades against the soft, vulnerable parts of softer, more vulnerable people, it made it all wholly intolerable for Long. What was the point of continuing like this, when there were only a handful of days left to live?

Still, he let his love pull him along as they terrorized their way through the unfortunate few people left clinging to a sense of normalcy and routine as they gamely ignored the weight of their mortality.

And then, there was the kid who killed Mike. And the dog. And then they had pushed their way into that apartment, and a blink later, they'd killed a dog, and a woman, and then Fai was on the floor, bleeding.

And then, Long was certain that his hands wouldn't shake the next time he pointed a gun. That no one had ever itched for the feel of someone else's throat underneath their fingers like his did. That no one has ever wanted to pull a trigger like he wanted to.

His retribution would make Fai proud, his heartbeat finally pulsing to the same drumming call for destruction that hers did.

#till the world ends

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parcequecestnotreprojeeeet · 2 years ago

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I have two questions for you:

What do you think about "gilets jaunes" protest against him? His handling of it, what made him backtrack on his reforms, how did he calm the protests down and about the grand national debate.

More of a lighthearted one: What do you think about Emmanuel and Volodymyr in a shipping perspective (like a POV with either Justin or Pedro)?

Depends on what "gilet jaunes" you are talking about. The original ones, that had legit complaints or the others that came along and just took advantage of the protest to create chaos? Because I honestly think there are two different groups of "gilet jaunes". Not to turn it into a conspiracy theory, but they were also a monster created by the media. They would follow every single saturday protest, almost desperate and wishing for violences. And if you have the platform at your disposal, what not use? And that's what the protesters did. I think the intolerable, unbearable and unjustifiable violences made him back down and concede some things to the protesters, even if for some, it would never be enough because that was not their point either. I think the national debate was a fantastic idea and it did help to give the idea that he was talking and listening to the people. Those don't know how many straight hours of debate/Q&A just came to prove, once again, how smart and capable this guy is and, most of all, how well he knows pretty much all the files. It's quite impressive. Tell me a current french politician that could those the same and hold conversations like that. Can't think of anyone! I'm honestly glad he somehow managed to get out of the GJ crisis, even if theres always the spectrum of a comeback of some sort every time a new government measure or reform is announced. I confess that, at some point, I doubted he would be able to come back from it. (even if i always defended him and i remember a little "fight" during a family reunion because someone said "this will only end when he resigns". You can imagine the bitch in me defending Emmanuel lol). So i was quite impressed by him! But, let me also say that they (Emmanuel, his advisers, government, etc) made the big mistake of not taking these protest serious at first. They look at it like something that would go nowhere and that also contributed for them to grow.

Honestly? I don't ship them hahaha I take it that you do?

Hope I answered all your questions! If not, come back to me again hahaha

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rainbowywitch · 2 months ago

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Hello my friend, 😊

I'm Ahmad from Gaza, married and have a little girl. 👨‍👩‍👧 I live in a displacement tent in Deir al-Balah after our home was completely destroyed in Khan Yunis. 💔 With the frequent displacement and high costs, I face significant difficulties in providing shelter, basic necessities, and medical care for my family.

We live in very harsh conditions and urgently need support to overcome this crisis. 🙏

Any help, no matter how small, can make a big difference. 🌟 Please donate and share the link.

https://gofund.me/665fbb6c. 💖

Verified by bees and watermelon, number 171 and northgazaupdates.

Ahmed Jehad (28 years old) is living in a never-ending nightmare. He got married shortly before the onset of the genocide in Gaza, and he welcomed his beautiful daughter during the darkest times, amidst violence and tragedy. Ahmed once lived in a comfortable apartment in Khan Younis, but all that changed when the war began. Since the conflict erupted, Ahmed and his family have been displaced more than five times, enduring months filled with pain and loss. Just when they thought they found a safe place, the violence would erupt again, forcing them into the unknown once more. Now, they are living in a cramped tent in Deir Al Balah, where the summer heat is unbearable. "The tent in the summer is extremely hot, and can't stand seeing my daughter suffer. She has developed rashes on her skin due to the heat, and when night falls, it’s almost impossible for her to sleep peacefully. Diseases and insects surround us, and as a family, we live in constant fear." The situation is nearly intolerable, with the struggle to provide food and basic care becoming a daily challenge. "I can't even secure food for my family or milk for my newborn. We feel hopeless, and our hearts are heavy with worry. We desperately need your assistance to survive until this ordeal ends." -The costs are skyrocketing, with weekly expenses (food, diapers, milk) reaching up to CAD $700, while evacuation costs per person amount to CAD $6,900. Ahmed is grateful for all the support they receive, but he knows he needs more than just moral support. "We now need actions. We have heard the chants of 'Free Palestine,' and now we need your help to keep us alive. I am Ashika Jaffar, living in Canada, and I am running this campaign to raise funds for Ahmed and his family. I will transfer the donations to his Palestinian bank account after receiving them. Let us unite to be a lifeline for those who are suffering. Thank you all so much, and may God bless you. Together, we can restore the hope that they have lost.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza

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etruatcaelum · 24 days ago

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He wants her to take her feelings out of it?

Fine. Fine–

With a wrenching effort, Salem forces her shoulders down, her back ramrod straight, lifts her chin even as she grips Ozma’s book all the more tightly. She’ll fall apart if she lets it go, and the crying will not stop, but– if Arthur does not want to hear of her feeling, then she will spare him the care and consideration that have stayed her tongue.

“Everything I have asked of you,” she says, and though her voice is ragged and broken by tears it is also icy, “except to be civil with Cinder. She was sixteen—” like the crack of a whip. “–a child. Both you and Tyrian have treated her mercilessly for seven years, and she has tolerated you only because she trusted that my estimation of her could not be swayed by your incessant cruelty. You made it clear that you hated her and that you wouldn’t hesitate for an instant to provoke my wrath against her for the pleasure of watching her suffer—and you are… surprised that she sought to protect herself after I shattered her trust in Atlas?”

She turns her head at last to gaze at him, her eyes gleaming red with the depth of her feeling. “I will not torture Cinder just to please you, nor kill you or Tyrian to end her fear, nor kill her because you think she deserves to die. I do not like violence. If that is intolerable to you, then you may leave.”

Hurt scratches out the word, a voiceless convulsive sob, and Salem looks away again and says tightly, “But don’t pretend that you have ever cared for me. I am under no illusions; I know that I am hated and feared a-and—used. What am I to you but the monster you could unleash upon the world to avenge your grudges? Do you think–”

Fraying, trembling, she gasps for the breath to say, “—do you think I don’t know–”

She is grimm.

She has never pretended to be otherwise.

“I know your fear,” Salem bites out. “I know your anger. I know that Tyrian’s fervor is matched only by his terror, and I know how easily obsession can twist into hate. I know Summer’s grief. I knew Hazel’s disgust. I know how Cinder resents me. I trust you all to act in your own self-interest without regard for mine. You—asked me to be open with you. I don’t…”

Overwhelming fatigue washes through her. She sags, looking down at the book, and the last, brittle ashes of her hope turn cold.

“…no more,” she whispers as she replaces the book, movements underwater-slow. “You were right. Nothing will ever change. I…”

She cannot bear this any longer.

“I am going to Vacuo,” she says bleakly. “If I surrender, the Brothers will destroy me and spare the world, and I can tear them down with me. Ozma will be rid of me; the world will be safe, and you will be free.”

Turning unsteadily on her heel, Salem strides back toward the staircase, head low. (Maybe it was only stubborn pride all this time: the histrionic fit of a selfish little girl too arrogant to admit her mistakes, for who can ever swim against the tide? She has been beaten every time she tried, and punished each time for hurting, and she should have conceded defeat long, long ago.)

Beacon, she thinks wearily. She will need the lamp and the staff—the crown can wait—and to say goodbye, and to apologize, and then…

Then it can be over.

“I came back here,” he spits out. “I could easily have remained ‘dead’ in your eyes. Your ‘daughter’ didn’t mistakenly leave me behind, but actively tried to take my life twice. So I came back here - and not just because I needed to let Tyrian know I was alright.”

Salem looks a wreck, somehow, and she’s holding onto some book like a lifeline. He is sure that Tyrian would be telling him to stop and leave their ‘queen’ alone, to let this go. But Tyrian isn’t here, and Watts is not known for letting things go.

“I intended to warn you that she could not be trusted. The fact that Cinder tried to kill my Tyrian, too, makes that doubly the case. Your exasperating fondness for the girl didn’t cut me until I learned you knew all of this and that you didn’t care enough to do anything about it. I don’t care what sort of grudge she has against me or how you would bend over backwards to justify her, you might even insist he or I deserved what we got, but you should think of how she has turned against you. How she has brazenly betrayed you. And yet she still has your confidence and your protection?”

He’d laugh if it wasn’t so infuriating. If he didn’t know he was talking to a brick wall. If he didn’t know they’d done this song and dance before - same tune, different lyrics. He’d thought he could accept it at least long enough to get to Vacuo, to talk to Tyrian about what Tyrian had said to Salem before Watts had returned, but-

Being used and treated as nothing had always been his sore spot.

“Take your feelings out of it. I have done everything you ever ordered of me in this war, and this is the thanks I get. If my ‘suicide’ had been a murder attempt - if Polendina had tried to blow me up and Ironwood had learned that was so and done little more than scold the man over it, you would have called it unjust, wouldn’t you? I could understand if you were forced into lenience for the sake of the relics, but you’re not. No matter how ‘sorry’ you are, I think you’re just relieved it wasn’t the two of us who tried to kill her, because if that had been the case, the punishment would have been so much more dire, and it would have nothing to do with needing a Maiden candidate. And that is what cuts me.”

He is fully prepared to die. Fully prepared for her to see this as a betrayal and call forth a Grimm and feed him to it. And this will not be the kind of death that Tyrian will need to mourn quite so heavily - Watts is not being needlessly, senselessly sacrificed by a bitter, petulant “colleague.” To be killed by Salem herself - Tyrian might accept such a thing, and hadn’t they always known they might be felled in these wars? To die at Cinder’s hands was an outrage, but to die in battle to an enemy or to be deemed expendable by Salem herself-

“Whatever else you think of me in the end, I did not spend every year here detesting you,” he says, quieter (he has managed to avoid raising his voice to a volume she’d find uncomfortable, although she seems upset enough even without the added trigger). “And everyone wants to live. Why should there be shame in that?”

#LEGENDS AND FAIRYTALES ( ic. )#THE MOON ALSO IS MERCILESS ( ic: salem. )#SO DAWN GOES DOWN TO DAY ( alt. v: rnsm. )#jocundcompany #[ watts. is not the only one who needs a nap. ]

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frankterranella · 2 years ago

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A strategy for addressing the issue of gun violence

It’s time to repeal the Second Amendment.

OK. Now that I have lost all the knee-jerk gun rights absolutists, the rest of us can have a reasonable discussion of what to do about the epidemic of gun violence.

Just last year, the Constitutional right to abortion was overturned because a group of committed people, many of them very religious, found the killing of unborn babies by a doctor’s knife to be intolerable. But many of those same people would have us take no action whatsoever if that same baby was born and (while still a baby) was killed by a gun.

I happen to be pro life whether the child is killed by a doctor or by an armed teenager. And yes I recognize the difference between born and unborn, but dead is dead. Although in my mind, the more tragic death is the death of a three-year-old child, not a 3-month-old unborn child.

So how is it that there is a right for just about anyone to have military -style weapons that are used daily to commit mass murder? Don’t tell me that that’s what the Founding Fathers intended, because history shows that not to be true. The 2nd Amendment was never viewed by courts as guaranteeing an individual’s right to own a gun unconnected with service in a militia until the Supreme Court made that ruling in District of Columbia v. Heller in 2008. So for 217 years after the passage of the 2nd Amendment, there was no such recognized legal right.

Traditionally, when the Supreme Court has made a constitutional ruling that has brought unwanted consequences for American society we have had two choices: (a) bring a new case and try to get the disastrous ruling overturned, or (b) pass a Constitutional Amendment to nullify the ruling. The anti-abortion lobby tried both and eventually succeeded with the former. What can the anti-gun lobby do?

I think while passing a Constitutional Amendment to repeal an earlier Amendment is possible (that’s how Prohibition was ended) the easier course is to bring a new case and hope that current events might return the Supreme Court to the position it has taken in all of America history apart from the last 15 years.

And what has happened in the last 15 years? The gun abuse fallout is so infamous that all I have to do is say the names Newtown, Uvalde, Santa Fe, Roseburg, Oakland, Rancho Tehama, Santa Monica, Marysville, and Parkland and you know the horrors. These mass shootings just involved schoolchildren. There are hundreds of others involving adults. Is this enough to make a difference? Possibly. Here’s why.

The first time the Supreme Court considered gun rights was in the case of United States v. Cruikshank in 1875.This was a case where the Ku Klux Klan was trying to prohibit freed slaves from owning guns. The ex-slaves claimed that their 2nd Amendment rights were being violated. The Supreme Court ruled against them, writing that the 2nd Amendment: “was not intended to limit the powers of State governments in respect to their own citizens” and “has no other effect than to restrict the powers of the national government” The Court went on to say “the second amendment declares that it shall not be infringed, but this, as has been seen, means no more than that it shall not be infringed by congress.” Therefore, any state law that restricts gun ownership was beyond the purview of the 2nd Amendment.

I am aware that the Supreme Court just last year disavowed this approach in New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen, but that was a 6-3 decision and three of the six justices in the majority filed concurring opinions that showed the possibility that their vote on this particular issue could be swayed if the facts of the case before them were different.

So rather than trying to amend or repeal the 2nd Amendment, I think the faster course to get the Court back to its original position on the intent of the 2nd Amendment is to argue that it was intended to prohibit only federal and not state gun laws. Let’s put the issue in the laps of state legislatures just like abortion is now.Why should the right to use a gun have broader protection than the right to use a scalpel? Each should be regulated in accord with local community standards.

I know this solution will not entirely please either side in this debate, but that’s the nature of compromise on hotly-contested issues like this.

So while I think that a total ban on guns with high-capacity magazines is something Congress should do, if all we can get passed right now are state laws to that effect, let’s do that. And when they’re challenged, let’s appeal all the way to the Supreme Court. And, like the anti-abortion forces, let’s do it again and again and again until it works.

We have to try everything we can to stop the gun violence that exists in no other country. So perhaps limiting the availability of certain guns as other countries have done is worth a try. If it doesn’t work, we can always change course and try something else. But doing nothing, as we have this entire century, is not acceptable.

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chewwytwee · 2 years ago

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Just saw a post that was upset about queer representation in popular media because it's useless. It's useless because even though you can see very tolerant media that contains really explicit queer stuff, you can still find a lot of very blatant and often violent queerphobia. And it's just such bullshit to point out a very real thing, and then use it to just bash on queer representation which isn't at all responsible for producing the problem, NOR is queer representation unique in experiencing this problem. It's silly to level the same point at other forms of representation. Like the same cable providers that will sponsor Steven Universe and Craig of the Creek and many other shows who have very racially diverse casts, will also carry Fox News, which actively platforms people who advocate for violence against racial minorities, but that doesn't mean that the racial representation is useless because the issue isn't representations uselessness. The problem isn't representations failure to do anything, and it's solution shouldn't be critiquing the representation that all ready exists in an effort to paint it as pointless. The issue is that modern political spaces are tolerant of incredibly extreme far right beliefs. The same people who speak on Fox News created an entire culture of "fairness" and "neutral debate" where EVERY belief (including fascist ones) gets a seat at the table, and if you refuse to hear someone out you're SUPPRESSING them and you're the real problem. That culture is of course flawed, and those are valid critiques to level at it because that culture is the issue. The issue isn't the creative teams behind childrens media (and creative teams in many other spaces) who fight INCREDIBLY hard to get representation on-screen in front of thousands to millions of people being ineffective in eliminating violent bigotry in America (which probably wasn't even their goal in fighting for more representation in the first place), it's the illusion of fairness and tolerance created by intolerant people to let their intolerant beliefs exist in the public space. Like, yes, you are pointing out something real and terrible when you mention that people like Tucker Carlson and Ron Desantis and Josh Hawley and so many other Conservative politicians and speakers have the platforms they do despite how tolerant other areas of society are. I absolutely agree, It IS ridiculous that my college can fly queer flags all over the campus yet me and other students STILL get hate crimed for being queer, yes it IS ridiculous that despite how tolerant some people are and some things are, it feels as if things are getting worse in other areas. But that isn't something that should then lead to bashing on the efforts of people making things better. It's so frustrating seeing good things happen only for everyone to roll their eyes about how it hasn't ended bigotry yet even though it's "so good". Like sometimes things can just be a source of happiness and hope and it doesn't have to be the end of bigotry as we know it. It's good that there is queer rep on TV. It's good that, even though it took me until middle school to learn what a gay person was, my younger cousins in elementary know what a NONBINARY person is. Things are getting better, and the bigots (as well as their speech) who do still exist aren't the FAILURES of people trying to make things good better, but are intentional and systemic problems that require much more active solutions than getting marginalized people on TV. Representation can exist, AND we can can have conversations about how to deal with speech. They can co-exist.

#.txt #this one just got me heated

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kick-a-long · 3 months ago

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I honestly and truly believe there's hope. First, online interactions are performances. People are interchangeable and as a result opinions are fickle and fringe, designed to get be extreme and reactionary so they can play on emotions.

I would despair if jew hatred was open, direct, and honest from Republicans and Democrates IRL. the fact that antisemites use dog whistles is important. Leftist all say they don't hate jews, even though they all say antisemitic things, spread antisemitic lies and believe antisemitic conspiracy theories. Leftists have to not hate jews to keep their logic consistent. It's a house of cards. It only isolates them because it divorces them from reality. The right wing is scarier because they are open and accepting about hating jews but they also have a reputation as school shooters. Not a cool movement for successful well remembered people. even the most conservative republican knows you can't openly say, "i hate jews."

Being scared of either is like being scared of the racist drunk uncle or the patronizing vegan step-aunt at thanksgiving. No one in the family likes them. they can be funny to laugh at if you are on a family zoom call but in person they are unbelievably annoying. No one wants to talk to them about being assholes because the family wants to keep the holiday 'nice.' If they ruin the day tho? Openly and unapologetically be an asshole? aka: call your cousin sara a kike or call billy a murderer for eating turkey, the conflict is unavoidable and they get shunned. No more invite to the table.

Second, look at polls in your country. In America, jews are wildly popular. Judaism is the most well liked of all the religions by other religions except muslims, (muslims are the least likes which is also fucked up.) By definition, extremists are the exception not the rule. the vast majority of people here use 'nazi' and 'evil people' as interchangeable terms. the end result of conspiracy theories and bigotry of all sort, when people start justifying violence, is hating jews. It's a canary in the coal mine for what will eventually fuck with gentiles of every type. Most people understand that on an emotional level even if they have no opinion on jews.

Three, freedom of religion includes jews and it is sacred to majority christian populations in the US at least. Many culturally christian cultures know that jews slot in to their secularism or their idea of tolerance (specifically their idea of many countries being equal in things like the EU) better than almost any religion or culture because we mostly keep our religion to ourselves and let other people do what they want if it doesn't hurt people. If they don't even tolerate jews, suddenly they have far right and far left riots like in England. it's not a surprise the first country to leave the EU is the one losing their shit like this. It's an indicator they were already intolerant.

The forth reason not to despair is that in the LOOOONG history of antisemitism, it is a cyclical cultural phenomena. yeah it erupts every 70 years or so, but it also dies off in western democracies. ironically it gets replaced with loving jews to the point of fetishization.

And fifth, jews are culturally into learning and producing good stuff that benefits humanity. jews also freely share that learning and good stuff with non-jews. science, tech, theory, writing, art, fashion, outside answers to problems (because jews are always outsiders to christian and muslim thought) that is vital to improving compared to your neighbor/enemy. We don't have the same culture of authority and agreement that stagnates a lot of cultures.

Protect yourself and wait, run if you have to. There's always one country jews can run while the world calms down.

is there really any hope left. i can't see the end. even if and when, god willing, we reach the end of the war, or a ceasefire - there's no coming back from this

#jewish hope #jumblr #long post

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stranger-marauders · 2 years ago

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shattered

twenty: the snack-sized gate

chapter summary: Kate, Steve, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin meet the kids at the snack-sized gate in Eddie's trailer.

chapter warnings: language, ptsd-like symptoms, canon-typical violence

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist | masterlist

THE KIDS HAD very quickly come up with ideas for their safe passage through the gate.

Dustin had tied sheets together to make a rope, and Lucas and Max had grabbed Eddie’s mattress from his room. They hoped that everyone would be able to pull themselves back up with the rope, only to fall once they’d reached the real world again.

When Max and Lucas dropped the mattress down below the gate, however, everyone that was in the Upside Down questioned the stains that were on the sheets, giving somewhat questionable looks as they stared above them. “Those stains are, uh… I don’t know what those stains are.”

“Mm,” Robin said, both unconvinced and disgusted.

“Not quite sure how these physics are gonna work,” Dustin said, holding the sheets in his hand. “But, uh… here goes nothing.” He held one end of the sheet-rope, throwing the other into the gate. When it dropped to the ground in the Upside Down, Dustin pulled the rope, checking its reliability. “There we go. And if my memory is correct…” Dustin let go of the rope, letting it hang. “Abracadabra.”

“Holy shit.”

“All right, pull on it!” Dustin shouted at them. “See if it holds!”

Robin shrugged, pulling the rope—it didn’t budge, not falling to the ground.

“This is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life,” Erica said. She looked back up to Steve, Kate, and Robin specifically. “And I’ve seen some crazy shit.”

Kate and Robin exchanged awkward glances—they really had put a ten-year-old in danger just to prove a point last summer with the Russian code they’d translated. Dustin, however, stuck his hand out to Erica, and she high-fived it in return.

Robin put both hands on the rope, beginning the climb. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

She struggled slightly as she pulled herself up, but she was still able to make her way though, gravity helping her fall whenever she got through the gate. She smiled whenever she landed on the stained mattress. “Oh, thank God. That was fun.”

Steve, Kate, Eddie, and Nancy exchanged glances.

“All right, guess I’ll go,” Eddie said, able to pull himself up and flopping down on the mattress. “That… was fun. Shit.”

Nancy was next to go, flopping down onto the mattress and letting Robin help her up.

When it came down to either Kate or Steve being next, she gave him a look of anticipation. “You go first. Uh, you know, just… just in case you can’t pull yourself up or something.”

Steve scoffed, half-smiling. “What, d’you not believe in me or something?”

“No, I think you’re seriously weak and injured right now.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead, Kathy.”

She sighed, pressing her lips together.

“See you on the other side.”

Kate nodded. “On the other side.”

Without another word, she gripped the rope, pulling herself up as Steve watched her, making sure she didn’t fall. Whenever she let go of the sheets, hoping to drop onto the mattress, she slammed into something hard and cold.

She groaned whenever her head slammed back on the hard surface. She couldn’t tell where she was, but she knew she hadn’t landed on Eddie’s disgusting-looking mattress. It was much darker, much colder than Eddie’s trailer would’ve been.

“Steve?” she called out, her voice echoing slightly. Her ears were ringing, and her head throbbed. “Steve!”

She shook her head slightly, pressing her hands to the temples of her forehead as she tried to rid herself of the ringing and the pulsing in her head. Kate didn’t know if she was going to be able to stand up at first because the pain had been so intolerable. After a moment of struggling, she finally stood herself back up, examining her surroundings. It took her a moment to recognize where she was before she gasped.

She was in Hawkins Lab.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Not now, please, for the love of God, not now!” she shouted. She tried to make a run for it to the glass doors, but they were still locked shut. “Goddammit!” She turned around, scanning her surroundings again. She didn’t find anything at first, but when she scanned back in the other direction, she screamed.

She saw Bob Newby’s body, completely bloodied and scabbed. The man that had given his life for her years ago so she could live.

This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real. She gave up on the glass doors, trying to find another exit through another part of the lab. Whenever she burst through the doors, however, she found herself inside Starcourt Mall, more specifically in the Russian base. She was watching the gate, the one the Russians were trying to open from their operations room.

Kate saw her father’s face. “Dad…” He was wearing a Russian uniform still, tears filling his eyes as he looked into the control room. It was just like Joyce had told her whenever she’d asked how he’d died last summer—she was seeing it through her eyes now. It was too late for him, and he knew that. She hadn’t been the one to do it, the one to kill her father, but this time, she had been the one to twist the keys into place. She could only watch as the machine exploded, sending her father with it in its wreckage.

Whenever she closed her eyes tightly, the sounds of the machine exploding stopped, leading her to silence. It was over. It was all over, and she was about to wake up on that filthy mattress, everyone screaming at her to wake up. She opened her eyes, only to find that the nightmare wasn’t over.

She was at her sister’s funeral again.

“Stop it!” she shouted, banging on the back doors of the cathedral. She didn’t want to look at the casket. She didn’t want to go through another funeral. She wasn’t going to feed into it, not right now. She had to get back right now. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

Whenever the doors burst open, she ran through them, only to find herself back at Hawkins Lab.

This had never happened before.

“What the hell?” she whispered, almost inaudible. She was completely out of breath, her heart racing. It was a neverending nightmare, this episode was.

Steve chuckled whenever Nancy fell to the mattress. “All right, Kathy, your turn.”

Whenever she didn’t answer, he stifled a laugh. “What? You’re not even gonna argue about that?” He turned around to face her whenever she didn’t respond to him again. “Kathy?”

His stomach lept to his throat whenever he found her with her eyes the same electric blue that Max’s eyes had been whenever she had been taken by Vecna.

His heart started to beat out of his chest. “Kathy?” He put his hands on her shoulders, starting to shake her frantically. “Hey! Hey! Stay with me, Kathy! Hey!”

Erica, Max, Nancy, Robin, Eddie, Dustin, and Lucas watched worried as Steve shook her, not able to wake her up.

“Vecna,” Max said, only staring from the other side of the gate.

“Kathy, wake up. Wake up! Kathy!”

Kate looked around, immediately starting to panic. This hadn’t ever happened before. Normally by now, her insides were eaten by Demodogs.

What the hell was going on?

“Do you remember what you did, Kate?”

Kate turned around, trying to find the source of the voice. While many people had talked to her in her episodes before, she had never heard this voice before. She didn’t know a person that sounded like this, someone that had a voice so deep it almost didn’t sound human.

“Or have you already forgotten?”

God, Kate couldn’t forget. She could never forget what she’d let happen to Bob. To her sister. To her father.

“When I kill someone… I never forget.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed, hearing the Demodogs from the hallway. She could hear the unmistakable growls from the other side of the door, the evergrowing proximity of their footsteps pattering against the tile floor. They were coming closer.

They were coming for her.

She decided, however, to try the glass doors again, finding this time they were open. Thank God. At this point, she was operating on A Nightmare on Elm Street plot alone: if you die in the dream, you die in real life. Whenever she got outside, starting to run away from the lab, she closed her eyes again when she heard a clock tick. Wake up, wake up, wake up. She opened her eyes again, only to find herself on a staircase, screams sounding in the distance.

At first, she found that she must’ve been the unluckiest person in the world. Of course Vecna could get to her without any warning, killing her without torturing her for a week. As she saw the grandfather clock, the same one that had been inside the Creel House, she shuddered.

She wasn’t going to make it out this time.

She took careful steps down the staircase, checking her surroundings as the grandfather clock chimed again.

“I see you’ve been looking for me, Kate. You were so close. So close to the truth. How was old, blind, dumb Victor? Did they tell you if he missed me?”

“I–I… I didn’t talk to him, I… what?” Kate asked, finally reaching the ground again. If this was about her knowing Victor Creel, she was definitely not the one to possess. Maybe Robin, more likely Nancy, but not her.

“I’ve been meaning to check back in, but I’ve been busy.”

Kate gasped as she looked to one of the towers of vines in the area, finding one of the kids that had been killed wrapped up in vines, Fred Benson. She looked at some of the other vine towers, finding that the other two kids’ bodies, Patrick McKinney and Chrissy Cunningham, were also wrapped up.

“So very busy.”

Whenever she looked back, she found that she was inside the Creel house again, except it was beautiful. She watched as a family walked through the door, a father, mother, and their two children. Based on the clothes they were wearing, and the wallpaper in the house, it was no earlier than the 1950s.

Kate was watching the Creels move into their house.

“What’d I tell ya?” Victor said to his wife, walking inside the house first.

“Wow.”

“This is… amazing,” Alice said, walking deeper into the house. “It looks like a fairy tale! A dream.” She took her bag with her as she ran up the stairs.

“Alice, no running.”

“It’s so big!”

Victor chuckled. “This is nice.”

Virginia put her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

The scene happening in front of her wasn’t near enough of a distraction for Kate to notice the little boy that still held his bag in his hand, pouting slightly. Henry.

“I didn’t fit in with other children. Something was wrong with me. All the teachers and the doctors said I was… ‘broken,’ they said. My parents thought a change of scenery, a fresh start in Hawkins, might just cure me.”

Kate took a shaky breath. Henry Creel was still alive, and he was Vecna. He’d taken her because she’d put it out on the table the first day she was there. Henry Creel had killed his family, and now he was killing kids for a reason she quite hadn’t identified yet. She could only wonder now how he’d been able to do it all.

“It was absurd. As if the world would be any different here.”

She followed Henry through the house, watching him carefully as the lights flickered. She stopped following the boy, going to the light instead. When she walked into the bathroom, the same one that Steve had presumably gone into whenever he’d gotten spiders all over him, she found him sitting on the floor of the bathroom.

“But then… to my surprise, our new home provided a discovery. And a newfound sense of purpose.”

She watched as he pulled the cover off of the air vent, sticking his hand inside.

“I found a nest of black widows living inside a vent. Most people fear spiders. They detest them.”

A shiver was sent down her spine whenever Henry pulled his hand back out from the vent, a spider crawling on it—she was definitely “most people.”

And yet, I found them endlessly fascinating. More than that, I found a great comfort in them. A kinship.”

Kate jumped whenever something whooshed behind her—Henry again. He ran down the hallway, moving to the attic. She moved to follow him.

“Like me, they are solitary creatures. And deeply misunderstood. They are gods of our world. The most important of all predators.”

A shiver was sent down her spine whenever she saw him sitting in front of multiple jars of spiders, as well as lit candles. It almost looked like an altar dedicated to them, a shrine maybe as he drew a black widow.

“They immobilize and feed on the weak, bringing balance and order to an unstable ecosystem. But the human world was disrupting this harmony. You see, humans are a unique type of pest, multiplying and poisoning our world, all while enforcing a structure of their own. A deeply unnatural structure.”

She followed him down the stairs, finding Henry standing in front of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

“Where others saw order, I saw a straitjacket. A cruel, oppressive world dictated by made-up rules. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades. Each life a faded, lesser copy of the one before. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce, and die.”

Kate watched the boy carefully as he investigated the clock, listening to Vecna, or Henry, as he spoke to her now.

“Everyone is just… waiting. Waiting for it all to be over. All while performing in a silly, terrible play, day after day. I could not do that. I could not close off my mind and join in the madness. I could not pretend. And I realized… I didn’t have to.”

Kate’s eyes widened and she gasped whenever Henry closed his eyes, the arms on the clock spinning counter-clockwise. No one was touching the clock; it shouldn’t have been moving at all.

Henry, somehow, had powers, too, just like her sister did.

“I could make my own rules. I could restore balance to a broken world. A predator… but for good.”

Kate turned around only to find herself outside the house, watching as Henry tied a rabbit up and killed it, tortured it. Even as the rabbit squirmed, Henry didn’t touch it. She only watched, her stomach twisting into knots as the boy knelt down, holding his hand over it. He had the same powers as El did.

“As I practiced, I realized I could do more than I possibly imagined. I could reach into others, into their minds, their memories.”

She only watched in horror as the rabbit shrieked, its bones snapping out of place.

“I became an explorer. I saw my parents as they truly were. To the world, they presented themselves as good, normal people. But like everything else in this world, it was all a lie. A terrible lie. They had done things, Kate. Such awful things.”

Kate closed herself back inside the house, hoping to escape, but instead heard a baby scream. She looked in horror to the living room, watching as Victor Creel watched a cradle burn in a fireplace—the screams.

“I showed them who they really were. I held up a mirror. My naive father believed it was a demon cursing them for their sins. But my mother somehow knew. Knew it was I who was holding up that mirror, and she despised me for it.”

A chill ran down Kate’s spine as she heard “Dream a Little Dream” playing faintly from the dining room.

“She called a doctor, an expert. She wanted him to lock me away, to fix me, even though it wasn’t I who was broken. It was them. And so she left me with no choice. No choice but to act. To break free.”

Kate watched as the lights in the house flickered, just like when her sister used her powers. Her jaw dropped open in shock, her eyes widening as she watched Virginia fly in the air, her bones snapping out of place and eyes exploding before she dropped down on the table. She watched as Henry wiped away the blood from his nose, a side effect of using his powers. She followed after Victor whenever he carried Alice and Henry to the front door, trying to escape.

“With each life I took, I grew stronger. More powerful. They were becoming a part of me. But I was still a child, and I did not yet know my limits. And it nearly killed me.”

When Victor was snapped out of his trance, presumably due to “Dream a Little Dream” still playing in the dining room, Henry fell to the floor. Victor scooped him into his arms, cradling him carefully.

That was why Victor thought he fell into a coma.

“He was arrested, blamed for the death of my sister and mother, just as I had planned. But I was far from free. I woke up from my coma only to find myself placed in the care of a doctor, the very doctor I had hoped to escape. Dr. Martin Brenner.”

The image shifted to somewhere presumably in Hawkins Lab, Henry laying in a hospital bed. Dr. Brenner had faked his death, just like he had El’s.

“But the truth… the truth is he did not just want to study me. He wanted more. He wanted to control. When Papa finally realized he could not control me, he tried to recreate me.”

Kate watched as Henry sat strapped into a chair, wincing as Brenner tattooed a number onto his skin in the same place El had hers: 001.

“He began a program. And soon, others were born. Your sister was born. And I am so glad she was, Kate. So very glad.”

Holy shit. This was bad. This was really, really bad. She had to snap out of this, had to get out so she could warn the others. So she could find her sister. So they had any hope of getting defeating Vecna.

She had to escape, otherwise, everyone would die, and that was just something she wouldn’t accept.

next chapter

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@thatsonezesty13 @cece5298 @thepowerstoner @alovelytardis @coolchick333 @stand-tall-pineapple @littlet-holmes @guichu @cinderellacauseshebroke @blackbirddaredevil23 @mads-weasley @ilovemarauders @pearlstiare @liableperfections @khaylin27 @girlwiththerubyslippers @cyarikaaa

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x hopper!reader #stranger things 4 #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington series #steve harrington stranger things

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Text

Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it.

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends.

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart.

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years.

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same.

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin.

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence.

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony.

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed.

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living.

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again.

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it.

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that.

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again.

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him.

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears.

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book.

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails."

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down.

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed.

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly.

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here."

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying."

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred.

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks.

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury.

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move.

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting."

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top.

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks.

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few.

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so.

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief.

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading.

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks.

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive.

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks.

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?"

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void.

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this."

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you."

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace.

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you.

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing.

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him."

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen.

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void.

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying.

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors.

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible?

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless.

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air.

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?"

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?"

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?"

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance.

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me."

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded.

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just-

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss.

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto-

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve.

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition.

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice.

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years.

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.”

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.”

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.”

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur.

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay.

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost.

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears.

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement.

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!”

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands.

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.”

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person.

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right?

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy.

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes.

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot.

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust.

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy.

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin.

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction.

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur @nottheotheruser @ohworm-writes @localwolfanon @realitycanbeajerk @v10dw4lk3r @esylwen @seraphsema @boiled-onionrings

GN reader taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@twitchchatvroom @parkeepingparker

#wilbur soot x reader #ghostbur x reader #jschlatt x reader #mexican dream x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing #tw: death #tw: near death #tw: blood #tw: panic attack #tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: grief

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raamitsu · 3 years ago

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right, I want to provide some thoughts from CH 250 cuz I’m not gonna wait until tomorrow.

- wakasa, a man who literally pushing 30, says that he doesn’t know what is the reason he joined kanto manji kai, tells inupi to ask benkei about it instead….? what is his life purpose, i wonder ? cuz this man is literally the type to “follow the flow” – no question, zero doubt. sometimes i feel like his obedience is boring.

- what about benkei’s purpose then? is he and waka have a plan? to be exact, what were they thinking when they decided to join kantou manji kai? whatever their purpose is, could it be related to mikey? or is it more into what benkei personally desired? why this man suddenly gives us so many questions and curiosity unlike before ?

- sanzu doesn’t fight with barehands often and the only time we’re seeing him doing so was in the anime (not sure in the manga tho but as far as i know he didn’t). it is not my intention to make fun of him but unless there’s a backstory where he taught senju to fight, i’d find his statement funny.

[his little backstory in] chapter 206 was the first mark of the importance of his role, before we’re entering the final arc. keep thinking about his relationship with mikey… wakui seems to put the focus on them. what is so mysterious about “what happened that day” that makes it not all about a broken airplane ?

questions:

does the “mystery” in chapter 241 is still about the broken airplane but much worse ?

did sanzu do or say something horrible on other things or people rather than the broken airplane that made mikey somehow “punished” him?

or did mikey ask (read: force) him to choose what kind of punishments as an exchange for breaking his precious airplane that sanzu was accused of?

- kakucho and takemichi… can yall not fight ? 🥹

- i know how deeply devastated it is to see mikey ends up being in a dark side of life, but i swear he needs to stop acting like he is the king of the world. idc how invincible he is. the way he loses his “delinquent ethics” and seemingly care less about people… well, i guess people really change. when he got defeated i hope mitsuya punches him real hard. pah-chin can join too.

- koko… idk why but i feel like he will eventually help inupi. there’s something about hajime and his soft spot that makes me believe so, however, if that’s not the case, we can jump him together if he leaves inupi with fatal injuries 😋

let’s hope we truly get sanzu’s POV in the next chapter. hopefully the revelation is more logical than just a broken toy because the damage was done with an intolerable violence so it makes sense that there should be another clearer part of the story. see yall again next week ! <3

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokrev #tr spoilers #tr 250 #tr 250 spoilers #tokyo manji kai #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers spoilers

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lostcauses-noregrets · 4 years ago

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Chapter 139: Final chapter, initial thoughts.

I’m still processing the final chapter, so these are very much my initial reactions...

My first thought is that I have no doubt that this is exactly the ending Isayama always intended. It’s contradictory, ambiguous, and frustrating, and in many ways it leaves us with more questions than answers, but it’s entirely in keeping with the rest of the story. In many ways it’s exactly the kind of ending I expected, and while I appreciate it in the context of the story, there’s a lot there that I can’t condone or pretend to like.

My feelings for Eren haven’t changed at all. There can be no justification for genocide. Eren didn’t save the world, he destroyed it. I guess to his credit he does acknowledge this, he knows there can be no forgiveness for what he’s done, however he never answers Armin’s question about whether it was necessary to go so far. His vague excuses that he was following a pre-ordained path, and that past and future all existed at the same time, don’t really cut it as justification for wiping out 80% of humanity. To be honest though, one of the things that disturbs me most about Eren and Armin’s conversation is Armin’s willingness to forgive Eren. I’ve never warmed to Armin, primarily because I’ve always felt that he had a deeply ambiguous moral compass and this chapter has only strengthened that conviction. There is no question that Armin is complicit in this genocide, for him then to set himself up as the one who killed the Attack Titan and saved the world is repugnant.

I’m not sure what to say about Ymir and Mikasa, I don’t really understand what message we’re supposed to take away from Ymir’s story. That we can’t choose who we fall in love with? That love can only lead to pain? That Stockholm Syndrome is a thing? (It’s not, it’s highly contested at best.) And as for Mikasa herself, I had really hoped that she would be able to move on from Eren, but I guess that was never going to happen, she’s an Ackerman after all.

I’m equally bemused by Historia’s arc. I still don’t understand her actions, unless Eren mind wiped her along with everyone else. Perhaps she just wanted to have a child to give it the love she never experienced as a child herself? Who knows.

It’s depressing to see Paradis overrun by fascist extremists, but at the same time it’s not at all unrealistic. Extreme violence can only ever lead to extremism. Even Eren acknowledged that he is responsible for making “all of Paradis Island start killing each other”. Although I appreciate the realism of the political situation on Paradis, I do worry what message people will take from this. From my perspective, nothing in Isayama’s story promotes extremism as being a Good Thing, countless characters have spelled this out, even Eren himself, who acknowledges those on Paradis Island who opposed what he did and kept their humanity. However Isayama’s messages can be ambiguous at best and obscure at worst, and I’m concerned that there will always be a hard core of fans who strongly identify with the Jeagerists and who will use this story to justify their own intolerance and extremism.

Although, there’s a lot to criticize in this chapter, one thing I did rather like was the way Isayama employed the mind wipe. I knew it had to come into play at some stage, but I never expected that Eren had already manipulated his friends’ memories. I’m really confused about Mikasa though. Did Eren wipe her memories too? I thought Ackermans were supposed to be immune to the Founding Titan’s power.

Which brings us on to Levi. I have so many feelings about Levi’s ending. Although part of me will always wish that Levi had died and been reunited with Erwin in the afterlife, I’m happy that he got to see all his comrades, and to know that they witnessed him fulfilling the goal that they had dedicated their hearts to. Honestly, it makes me so emotional. In a way I’m glad that Levi didn’t join the diplomatic mission to Paradis, he’s already played his part and given everything he ever had to give. Let him go off and see the world with Gabi, Falco and Onyankopon, he deserves it. I used to joke that I wanted Levi to have one last shining vision of shoujo Erwin before he died, and he got that, only he didn’t need to die for it.

Despite these criticisms, I still think this story is an incredible achievement on Isayama’s part and, regardless of how it ended, I am so thankful for all the friendship, joy and heartache this series has brought me. The editor’s note at the end of the chapter says it all.

“We believe that nothing is more valuable than people being able to share in emotions that can not be put into words through a story.”

Thank you Isayama.

#snk spoilers #snk 139 #levi ackerman #eren yeager #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #historia reiss #lostcauses meta #snk

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cinemassance-oneshots · 4 years ago

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Don’t Touch Her—Spencer Reid

Word count: 3.6k

angst and fluff

Synopsis: you and Reid go undercover for a case and it goes wrong. You finally hear how Reid feels about you.

Warnings: mention of violence and gore.

A/N: I’m quite new to one shots, so I hope you enjoy. You are free to send in requests. I am still new to tumblr, so I hope to figure stuff out soon on here. I plan to do more characters, make a master list pinned to my board, and do smut chapters in the future <3

I was originally getting my morning coffee until I got the call from Garcia. I pressed my lips together as she confirmed it was another case before I proceeded to ask what coffee she wanted. If I ever got a call about a case and I was already at a coffee shop, I would grab coffee for the rest of the team. It was only fair, and they would do the same for me. We’re all a family.

I carefully carried the trays of coffee in my hands to the building.

“Do you need a hand?” I didn’t have to look up to see who it was. I would know that voice anywhere.

I turned to look at him with a smile. “That would be great, Spence.”

He shot me a smile as he reached over and grabbed a tray. The brief contact of our skin touching made my heart flutter momentarily.

Without hesitation, Spencer opened the door and let me in. “You shouldn’t spoil us with coffee all the time.”

I shrugged my shoulders as I glanced up at him. “It’s fine. I’m keeping tabs,” I joked. “Don’t worry. I got your coffee how you like. Although, I don’t understand why you insist on dairy since you’re lactose intolerant.”

“What can I say? I like dairy.” “But tummy aches,” I replied. “A little pain is worth it.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He could be so stubborn at times. We stepped into the elevator to go meet the rest of our team. Most of them were already seated at the table.

“You’re such a life-saver,” JJ told me with a grin. I smiled back as I started to hand everyone their coffees.

“Last, but not least,” I said as I turned to face Spencer. “Dr. Reid,” I finished in a softer tone. I could’ve sworn I saw him gulp, but I was probably imagining it.

As soon as everyone showed up, Garcia went on to tell us about the new case. We all flipped through our files as she spoke. It’s not hard to admit this job is difficult, especially with how monstrous some people are.

“Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told us as he left the room.

***

Spencer and I were partnered to go to the coroner’s office. The person went over the details as I looked at the bodies and Spencer read the files.

“Can he really read that fast,” the woman asked me, making me briefly glance up at her.

“Yes,” I replied before looking back at the bodies. “You said the male was most likely hit with an iron chain that was also used to strangle him afterwards?”

“That’s what it points to. Why?”

“Wielding a big chain is a lot harder than most people tend to believe,” Spencer informed as he handed her the file back.

“Here’s the other thing though,” the forensics started to speak, “the female victim had lacerations on her skin from leather. It’s possible she was whipped with leather while he was whipped with a chain.”

“We could be looking at two unsubs,” I thought out loud as I looked up at Spencer. He nodded.

“I think so too.” “I’ll call Hotch.”

I stepped outside of the room as I called him. Not long after Hotch answered. “What did you guys find?”

“We’re looking for two unsubs. One is strong enough to wield an iron chain as a whip and the other is weaker since they used a leather whip on the female victim.”

“Thanks. If you and Reid find anything else, let me know.”

And with that, the call ended. I found my way back to Spencer to catch up on any more details he learned. He caught me up on the information, which shocked forensics to see he spoke every detail verbatim.

We thanked the woman before leaving to head to the precinct to catch up with the team.

“What are you thinking Reid?” I glanced over at him as I drove. It was as if I could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I know it seems weird, but I think it might be a couple who committed these murders.”

“So the guy kills the male and the girl kills the female. They probably get off on watching each other torture and kill their victim.”

“The male uses a chain to beat and kill the guy showing his dominance and strength.”

“And the woman uses a leather whip which is usually associated with BDSM.”

“Exactly,” Spencer agreed.

As soon as Spencer and I got to the precinct, we told the team what we came up with and what forensics showed. We all went around putting in our input based on the evidence all of us gathered and learned.

Unfortunately, that’s when we all received news there were more victims just found.

I went with Emily and Morgan to look at the crime scene. The victimology was the same. The male was brutally tortured and killed with a metal chain and the female with a leather whip. It’s unsettling to know there are couples who do these things together, let alone a single person.

Once we returned to meet with the rest of the team, we learned each couple went to the same bar the night they went missing. It was no coincidence. That bar meant something to that couple. With all the information we gather, we were finally ready to deliver the profile.

After it was delivered, Hotchner began to talk about a plan he had in mind.

“We need to set up an undercover operation for tonight,” Hotch spoke. “We’ll have multiple people stationed throughout the area to keep an eye out.”

Everyone nodded. Everyone understood the plan.

“Two of my agents will be the ones going undercover. I need as many others as possible to be around the area ready to catch this couple. Be careful and aware of everything, but remember to be subtle. We don’t want to announce our presence before they’ve made themselves known. Any alarm could ruin this.”

And with that the plan was set in motion.

Hotch pulled me and Spencer aside to speak with us. “I need you two to go undercover as the couple.”

I almost wanted to look at Spencer and imagine it was all real. I desperately wanted to know what it would be like to be with him, but I made sure to keep my mind fixated on the case at hand.

JJ helped me get ready. I wasn’t exactly great at doing my makeup myself, so I was glad she helped.

“Try to explain to me why you and Reid aren’t dating in real life again,” she asked with a small smirk.

“I don’t know..,” I softly said.

That was the truth. I didn’t know how to make a move or what to do with Spencer. Every time I thought about it, my palms would sweat profusely and my heart would race that I would have to change the subject in my head.

“I see the way you both look at each other. Trust me, everyone does.”

I quirked a brow. “What?”

JJ let out a small chuckle. “After we close this case, I think you should go for it. I just hope you do it soon, otherwise I’ll lose this bet going on.”

“You have a bet going on about me and Spencer?”

JJ did a sly smile and shrugged her shoulders. “Good luck tonight. We’ll make sure nothing happens to you two.”

“Thanks, JJ.”

I felt a little odd wearing a dress. I prefer slacks or skirts but dresses always felt different to me. I at least felt more secure having one of my smaller guns strapped to my thigh.

“Hey, hot mama,” Derek said with a grin.

I lightly punched his arm. “I can still kick your ass, Morgan.”

He let out a laugh as I rolled my eyes. Hotch walked up and handed me my earpiece. “We’ll be listening to everything. We’ll tell you and Reid if we notice something.”

I nodded as I listened and put the piece in. I let my hair fall over it to help conceal the device.

As soon as Reid walked over, my heart raced at the site of him. It was rare to see him in jeans and a plain button down. He looked good in anything.

Hotch gave him his earpiece as well and told him what he just told me. I almost felt that out of the corner of my eye I saw Reid glance at me a few times.

Spencer and I made our way outside of the precinct to use one of the undercover cars to drive to the place. He got on the drivers side.

“You, uh, look really pretty,” Spencer spoke. His voice came out a little broken and nervous.

I felt my cheeks heat up as I smiled. “Thanks. JJ did a good job.”

I watched as his mouth parted but closed after a second. I wanted so desperately to know what he was planning on saying. Usually he never thought about not speaking once something was on his mind. It made me even more curious.

“You look good too,” I decided to speak. I watched as he gulped and lightly blushed.

“I-I do? I haven’t worn jeans in about 20 years.”

“You always look good,” I mumbled. I was afraid he would hear what I said.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” I replied in a fast tone. “I was mumbling to myself.”

“Oh… Okay.”

I glanced over and saw a ghost of a smile on his lips. My heart raced as I asked myself if he heard me or not.

When we arrived at the bar, Spencer opened the door for me like he usually does.

“Such a gentleman.” I smiled and looked up at him.

“Well, you deserve the best.”

My heart fluttered. Did he mean himself? Was he trying to be the best he could? For me?

He held out his hand before I grasped it in my own. I couldn’t deny that it was a wonderful feeling holding his hand. Mine felt so small in his.

We walked inside to find it crowded. Apparently it was a popular bar. It was also happy hour, so that explained a lot of things.

“What would you like to drink,” Spencer leaned in and asked me. His breath on my skin sent exciting shivers down my back.

“Cranberry juice. That way it looks like I might be drinking a mixed drink,” I whispered to him. He nodded.

I don’t know how long we were there, but it felt like a while. Spencer and I sat at the bar sipping our drinks, talking, and looking around inconspicuously.

I leaned in and whispered into Spencer’s ear. “I don’t know if this will be enough to attract them. But when I pull away, act as if I said something enticing to you.”

When I pulled away, I saw a smile on Spencer’s lips as he looked at me.

“I’ve never seen you two in before.”

Spencer and I turned to see a guy in his mid-30’s holding two beers.

“We’re just visiting. We had to try this place out because we kept hearing so many good things,” I replied with a smile.

“We always love welcoming new people. I’m John, by the way. That’s my fiancé Cindy over there.”

He turned and pointed to a blonde woman seated at a table who waved over at us with a bright smile.

“Fiancé? Congratulations,” I told him. “When is the special day?”

“We’re still settling on one. You both are more than welcome to join us at our table.”

I looked over at Spencer to meet his eyes. “Does that sound good, Matt?”

He nodded with a smile as we walked over and joined them at the table.

“Hi, I’m Cindy,” the woman said with a smile.

“June.” “Matt.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I hope John wasn’t bothering you. We’ve just never seen your faces around here before.”

“We’re visiting,” I answered.

Something in my gut told me this was them, but I didn’t have any proof. Yet.

We spoke with them a for a while. Without thinking, I reached under the table and searched for Spencer’s hand. It was almost like he knew because his hand found mine and squeezed it reassuringly.

“How about another round of drinks,” John asked as he stood up.

“I’ll come with,” Spencer replied as he stood up.

They left leaving me and Cindy alone. “You’re a lucky girl,” she told me.

“You are too. You and John look so happy together.”

“But the way Matt looks at you,” she spoke and bit her lip lightly. “John never looks at me that way. You got yourself a winner.”

“I think we both do.”

I suddenly had a nausea wave over me. “Woah, hun! You okay there?”

“Yeah, I, um—where’s the restroom?”

“Here, I’ll help you. You don’t look so good.”

I didn’t have time to think since I felt like I was about to puke any second. Cindy stood up and helped me stumble my way to the restroom.

I rushed into a stall and immediately threw up. I plucked the piece out of my ear and held it in my palm so the others wouldn’t have to listen to me puking. I know I wouldn’t want to listen to it.

I slumped over after I finished.

“Are you finished yet?”

I could barely form a word as I glanced over and saw the end of a barrel. How could I be so stupid? I just hoped someone would come crashing into the bathroom to get her, but no one came.

“Get up,” she told me.

I could barely stand as I did what she told me to do. I briefly looked around and noticed the restroom didn’t look like a public one but a single person one. I cursed myself in my head.

She grasped my arm tightly and held the gun to my side. “Walk with me like normal and I won’t kill you right here. I want to at least have some fun before I do that.”

There was excitement laced in her voice. It made me sick again hearing it. How someone could be so excited to kill something else. Another human being.

I was led to a van. Every step I prayed someone would come help. Anyone.

I was shocked inside with the door immediately closed behind me. I threw up again. I couldn’t think of when my drink could’ve been drugged.

My legs and arms felt numb as I slumped onto the floor of the van. I wanted to reach for my gun or do something, but my body wouldn’t let me.

I could barely make out the sound of Spencer’s voice as he clung onto me.

“What did you do to her,” he demanded. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry.

“Relax, why don’t you,” John snapped. “She’ll be conscious enough soon.”

And with that, Spencer went unconscious beside me after the end of a gun butted against his temple.

***

My eyelids flickered open adjusting to the lightly. My arms were tied being my back with rope. I looked over to find an unconscious Spencer. I knew my gun was snatched away by them, so the hopes with that were gone.

I softly spoke his name as I tried to move closer to him. A hum left his throat as his head slightly moved. I nudged him lightly a few times.

As soon as his eyes opened, they landed on me with a worried expression.

“Did they hurt you?”

I shook my head as I looked at the small patch of blood on his temple.

“Is your head okay?”

“It’ll be fine… I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Spence.”

“I should’ve paid attention more, then we wouldn’t be here. I could’ve done more to protect us, protect you,” he said as he looked away.

“Spence, look at me,” I pleaded. “None of this is your fault. We’ll get out of this.”

I looked around, but we were in a completely bare room with nothing that could help us. When I looked back at Spencer, he was looking at me.

“Why are you looking at me that way?”

“I want to make sure the imprint of your features are engraved in my brain in case something happens.”

How could he make my heart swarm in a situation like this?

“This might sound insanely morbid, but if I had to die with anyone, I’m glad you’re the last person I’ll see.”

A small chuckle left his throat. I loved that sound so much.

“That is extremely morbid, but I understand what you mean... I have to tell you something.”

I stayed silent to let him know I was listening. I watched as he glanced down and swallowed hard.

“I want you to know that I’ve liked you ever since you joined the team… I regret never doing anything about it. I guess I was scared.”

Spencer slowly looked back up at me. I almost felt like I was going to cry from both the situation and finally hearing those words leave his mouth.

“I like you too, Spence.”

I wanted to say more, but the door busted open and the couple walked in.

“Well, ain’t that precious,” John said in an amused tone.

Cindy walked closer to me. I tried to move away, but I was helpless.

“Don’t touch her,” Spencer demanded as he lunged forward but was held back my John.

“You don’t get to make demands. I can’t wait to see you watch her die. Cindy is amazing with her craft.”

I felt sick at his words as she wrapped a hand around my throat. Her grasp tightened as she pulled me up. John ordered Spencer to get up as well as they led us to another room.

Spencer was forced into a chair and was tied down as my arms were lifted above me to be locked to a chain.

I watched with disgust as Cindy stroked Spencer’s face. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this one. He loves her so much.”

She smiled wickedly as she glanced up from beside him. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when she takes her last breath. I’m getting turned on just thinking about it.”

“Kill me first,” his voice broke out.

“What?”

“Kill me first. It should be me.”

I yanked on the chain as tears threatened to stream down my cheeks. I wanted to scream at him for saying such a thing.

Cindy stood up as she hummed. “I thought John told you that you don’t get to make demands.”

I kept my eyes on Spencer that I didn’t even notice her pick up her whip. It wasn’t until the first slash cut into my skin that I noticed.

A cry erupted from my mouth as my eyes squeezed shut.

Spencer screamed out as he tried to get out of the chair to help in some way. Tears poured down both of our faces.

I could feel my own blood run down my skin as the slashes kept coming. It soaked my torn clothing and my body. My throat finally started to feel hoarse from my cries. My legs couldn’t even keep my body up. Only the chain kept me up.

“FBI, put your weapons down!”

I could barely raise my head to see what was going on. I heard a shot ring out before I felt hands on me.

Spencer gently held me and made sure to not touch the cuts as someone else freed my wrists from the chains. I fell into his arms as he kept me up.

“I need a medic,” he cried out.

My heartbeat was going incredibly fast. The pain was unbearable.

“Someone get a medic now!”

Everything was a blur. One moment I was in Spencer’s arms, then I was in an ambulance with Spencer holding my hand firmly in his before I went unconscious.

***

I woke up in a hospital bed.

I felt something beside me and saw Spencer’s hand holding mine with his head slumped over on the bed asleep. A small smile formed on my lips.

I moved to readjust as I felt a wave of pain sear throughout my body. I hissed at the sensation, which immediately woke Spencer up.

“What’s wrong?” He instantly asked as he looked at me with a worried expression.

“Just the pain,” I replied.

I saw guilt wash over his face as he looked down. His hand left mine. It felt cold and lonely without his touch.

“It’s my fault you’re like this.”

“Hey,” I reached up to hold his face with my hand closest to him, “None of this is your fault. Don’t you dare feel guilty about any of this. You did everything you could.”

Spencer reached up and grabbed my hand. He brought it back to the bed and held it in both of his hands.

“I’m so sorry.”

I gave his hand a light squeeze. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake.”

I grasped his hand tighter to stop him. “In a little bit. I just want to be with you right now.”

Spencer sat back down as he nodded.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” he said as he looked up and gave me his full attention.

I took a deep breath before I parted my lips to speak. “Did you mean everything you said back there?”

His brows furrowed together. “I meant every word. I would never lie to you.”

My heart fluttered at his words. It made me so happy to hear him say that despite all the pain I was currently in. In a way, having him beside me and talking with him made the pain easier.

“I, um, was wondering if maybe we could try a real date once you’re better and everything,” Spencer softly spoke as he looked down at our hands. I smiled at how cute he was being.

“I’d love that.”

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