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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

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Right Kind of Wrong (12)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer gets closer to the truth while she feels suffocated by the situation. wc: 4.3k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

a/n: Let me give you a long part as a token of my apology for being a slow writer. I hope this was worth the wait

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"WE BELIEVE WE ARE DEALING WITH A MALE OFFENDER IN HIS LATE 20s TO EARLY 30s," Aaron Hotchner announced, his voice loud and jarring. "Based on the crime scenes, the Unsub doesn't have a lot of experience as they were most likely done in a moment of rage."

The team stood in front of the bullpen, facing a room full of officers and agents scattered along the space. Pens clicked and notepads rustled around them as everyone prepared to add insights to their unfolding narrative.

Rossi, who stood by the evidence board, skimmed his eyes across the room. "It suggests someone who is impulsive and might have difficulty controlling urges. This could also be a sign of an underlying mental illness."

"It's likely that there is some kind of history there, either of abuse or trauma in their childhood," JJ added. "It seems that the Unsub may have difficulty connecting with or relating to others and may be socially isolated as a result. He would mostly like to keep to himself."

Spencer took a step forward and carried on with their profile of the unidentified suspect. "The Unsub might also have grown up in a deeply religious environment. Their beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading them to believe that they possess a unique calling to carry out their crimes as a way of punishment."

"Based on the victims, the Unsub has targeted specific people whom they believe have harmed one of our witnesses," Morgan added, his voice seeming to turn deeper as he continued, "Y/n L/n."

A jolt of electricity surged through Spencer's consciousness. The human mind really was a powerful thing. Somehow the simple sound of her name projected the memories he had of her and suddenly he was seeing her face, her radiant smile, her beautiful eyes—he was seeing her so clearly as if she were standing right before him.

But then Emily moved past him, jolting him awake from his reverie as she bumped against his shoulder. "The Unsub has a sense of loyalty to her that they are acting out these crimes as a desire for retribution on her behalf. They might believe that they have a connection or some kind of relationship with Ms. L/n."

"We believe the Unsub might know her personally," Hotch addressed, his eyes, sharp and penetrating, scanning around him. "Go through places where the witness is most likely to go. This could be her neighborhood, workplace, daily commute, and so on."

The atmosphere seemed to shift as he finally dismissed the room. Everyone rose from their seats, each one heading to their respective posts and assignments. It didn't take long for the phones to ring in the background, followed by the constant shuffle of feet as the entire space started to come alive.

And as Spencer turned back to his desk, a familiar man pushing the glass doors of the office suddenly caught his attention. His steps faltered while the man looked around the room as recognition hit him. Spencer walked over, addressing him as one of the witnesses. "Mr. Adler?"

The other man blew out a sigh of relief. "Eric, please." He entered the office and gave Spencer a look. "The people downstairs told me I could find you here."

"You were looking for me?" He frowned. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I hope so," Eric replied. "Has there been any missing person report lately?"

The confusion on his face grew prominent at the question. "Not that I know of. Why? Is someone you know missing?"

"A coworker of mine hasn't shown up to work and I can't contact any of his family members," he explained. "I'm starting to get worried."

"What's his name?"

"Oliver Walsh."

Having an eidetic memory helped him recall the name easily. His mind went through all the information he gathered these past few days and remembered the exact name written on the list of employees. "When did you last see him?"

"Three—no, four days ago. He left work looking very troubled."

Spencer's brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Eric's. "Troubled?"

Eric nodded. "He seemed distracted."

"Do you have any idea why he acted the way he did?"

"No," he responded. And then it suddenly happened. His eyes, previously engaged in maintaining eye contact, drifted upward for a fleeting second. It was as though a switch had been flipped in his mind and the gears of his memory whirred to life. "Although he did seem to act different that day... especially towards Y/n."

His stomach churned. A subtle tremor coursed through his limbs, betraying the unease that was slowly but unmistakably creeping into his consciousness. "...Y/n?"

"You remember her, right? She was with me the night it happened."

Remember her? She was the only person he couldn't stop thinking about. Spencer cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I'm aware Ms. L/n was also a witness."

"Well, Oliver has been fixated on her for so long, everyone in the office knows this. Y/n mostly thinks of it as a joke but I don't think Oliver sees it the same way as she does."

"And something happened between them on the day you last saw him?"

"I'm not sure." Eric sighed. "I saw them talking after work hours, and by the looks of it, I think Y/n was pissed at him." He then crossed his arms, his brows in deep concentration as he seemed to be recalling that day. "She looked like she was under a lot of stress, actually."

"Did you hear what they were talking about?"

"No. But after that, Oliver didn't seem like himself anymore. Then he didn't come to work the next day..." Eric trailed off, his eyes casting down before he mumbled, "I still don't know where he is now."

Spencer's mind suddenly became a whirlwind of calculated chaos, connecting the dots with lightning precision. His heart raced in his chest, pounding out a rhythm of urgency that echoed in his ears. There was no room for hesitation, no luxury of second-guessing.

He needed to move fast.

"Emily!" He called out as he saw his friend walking past them, quickly stopping her pace at the mention of her name. "Can you help Mr. Adler file a missing person report?"

"Uh..." she looked between the two men, uncertainty written across her face. There were questions lingering at the tip of her tongue but she stopped herself when she saw the urgent look Spencer was throwing at her. "Of course," she decided to agree, her attention shifting to the other man. "Right this way."

With a swift, purposeful stride, Spencer left them behind, his footsteps echoing the urgency that had taken hold of him. His heart was still racing when he walked down the corridor, quickly making his way to the room down the hall.

The door swung open with a resolute push, and he entered the room, his senses on high alert. "Garcia."

"I wasn't doing anything!" The woman sitting before him shrieked, closing the window tabs on the screen in front of her. Usually, Spencer would tease her on how unprofessional it was to be doing something else that wasn't related to work, but he didn't have the time to engage in playful banter.

Spencer stepped behind her, placing a hand on the back of her chair. "Garcia, I need you to find Oliver Walsh for me."

She wasted no time. Her fingers danced across the keyboard with a rapid, almost feverish intensity. "Oliver... Walsh..." The soft clatter of keys echoed in the room as she navigated through files and databases. "There are too many Oliver Walsh in this country."

"He works at the same company as Y/n."

"Should've mentioned that sooner." Her eyes scanned lines of text, images, and documents in front of her. "Bingo. Oliver Conrad Walsh was born on 18th December 1991 as an only child—wait, look at this. His family was part of The Haven Hill... a sanctuary of unwavering faith and profound tranquility?"

"Is it some kind of a cult?"

"I don't think so." Her eyes landed on an old article buried within the archives and clicked on the link before a picture of a worn-out brochure greeted them. "Prospective members are welcomed into Haven Hill, a secluded and serene enclave where faith and tradition unite. It seems like a very tight-knit community with a very religious belief—oh!"

Her fingers moved as she navigated through digital records. "Reid..."

"What is it?"

The screen suddenly displayed a grim history of illicit activities and misdeeds, a virtual breadcrumb trail leading them closer to the truth.

"Oliver Walsh was far from being a saint albeit growing up in a religious environment. Along with his group of friends, he was constantly rebelling ever since a very young age. He had to do a lot of community service for it too; underage drinking, burglary, public disturbances—oh dear."

"Attempt sexual assault?" Spencer read out loud.

"...a group of underage boys was proved guilty of trying to violate a fourteen-year-old girl on school grounds—"

"Garcia," Spencer stopped her, not wanting to listen to the rest of the story. "Give me his current address."

"Already on it," she responded, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't believe this, the suspect was no longer a shadowy figure; they were becoming real, tangible, and within his grasp. Then his eyes caught the shot of the man on the screen. A jolt of recognition surged through him as he scrutinized the suspect's image on the screen. The face staring back at him carried a haunting familiarity.

Memories raced through his mind like flickering images from the past. He remembered him, he always remembered people's faces, and that man right there was the same man he had seen in Y/n's house that afternoon. There was a huge chance this was all a coincidence.

But there was also a possibility of Oliver Walsh being the Unsub.

He didn't know which one was true, but what he did know was that he needed to find out the truth.

The sudden, shrill ring of his phone shattered the intensity of the moment. It was a jarring intrusion, snapping him back to the present. With a swift, almost automatic motion, Spencer reached for the device and answered the call without looking away from the screen. "Yes?"

"Agent Reid," the person on the other line greeted, their words rushed in a moment of panic. "I can't find her."

Spencer pulled his phone away from his face and glanced at the caller ID. Officer Anderson. A sense of relentless panic coursed through him as the realization hit like a lightning bolt. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach, a visceral reaction to the gravity of the call.

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"I—" There was a sigh. "I-I was watching inside my car and I somehow ended up sleeping. She's nowhere inside the house now—"

"Did you call her?"

"She left her phone in the kitchen."

At that moment, he was acutely aware of every heartbeat, every pulse of blood coursing through his veins. Panic resounded through his thoughts, casting a dark shadow over him. It was a visceral, gut-wrenching sensation that threatened to paralyze him like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath his feet.

"I apologize, Agent Reid."

But then anger coursed through his body. He was suddenly angry—Angry at the situation, angry at the Unsub, angry at the officer who couldn't seem to do his one simple job. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone tighter, and his eyes flashed with fury.

"Being sorry isn't going to help you find her," he snapped. He then straightened himself. "I'll be there in ten."

"What happened?" Garcia whispered, noticing the sudden tension in his shoulder.

Spencer shoved back his phone and turned to her. "Garcia, I need you to inform the others, I have to go."

"What?!" She yelped, watching as he turned away from her. "Right now? Where are you going?"

But her question was left unanswered as he bolted out of the door.

There was no other way to explain what being followed by a disguised officer felt like. It was suffocating. Even everything felt suffocating these days, and when she meant everything, Y/n really meant everything.

At first, the idea of protection had offered comfort, but now it was an oppressive weight that bore down on her shoulders. Everywhere she turned, a shadow loomed, an unwelcome reminder of the loss of her freedom. The suffocating sensation was inescapable, restricting her every movement.

The constant surveillance had pushed her to the brink of stress and manifested in the form of tension that coiled within her, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Her patience wore thin and the weight of anxiety rested heavy on her chest. One moment she was on the verge of tears, the next, she was snapping with sharp words, irritable and sullen.

She really needed a break.

"You should go to the gym," Sandy had suggested the other day. "It might help relieve the stress."

After debating whether it was a good idea to visit the gym when she couldn't even remember the last time she stepped foot on a treadmill, she finally decided to slip out of the house. She walked over to the black car she already grew familiar with and stood by the window—only to find Officer Anderson fast asleep behind the wheels.

A pang of guilt tugged at her, but the allure of temporary freedom was too strong to resist. It was an unexpected opportunity, a rare moment of freedom dangling before her like a tempting prize. Was it wise to leave without informing him? Probably not. But she couldn't imagine herself working out—all awkward, tired, and sweaty—with Officer Anderson watching her from the corner.

So silently, she retraced her steps. Her pulse quickened with a mix of trepidation and exhilaration as she walked away. It would be fine, she had assured herself. She would be back before he realized she was even gone. And with that thought in mind, she quickly made her way to the closest gym around the corner.

The place felt both familiar and foreign as she navigated the equipment, but she finally found her place in an exercise routine. Her muscles protested the unaccustomed effort, but with each movement, she could feel the tension slowly dissipating. It wasn't until she could barely feel her limbs anymore that she stopped and left the place.

Even though her body was aching from pushing her body to its limit, she did feel slightly better. Her steps also did feel lighter when she walked back to her home, and her mind felt calmer, and less chaotic than it did when she left her house. But as she approached her street, a knot of unease tightened in her stomach.

The evening's fading light cast long, ominous shadows that seemed to reach out and embrace her front door, which stood ajar. It was an unexpected sight, one that sent a chill down her spine. Two things flashed into her mind at that very moment. One, she realized Officer Anderson was nowhere in sight. His usual parked car looked very much abandoned with no one inside the vehicle. Two, she could probably die if she entered her house alone in this state.

Maybe she should call the police. Maybe she should call Spencer... Yeah right, she didn't even have his number. Maybe she should just call Agent Jareau. Or Agent Prentiss. Yes, that would be a wiser option than to—shit. She clutched her empty pockets.

She didn't even bring her phone to begin with.

She cursed to herself. This was a bad, bad decision. She was probably going to regret this, but she couldn't just stand there and do nothing. So very cautiously, she approached her house, her senses on high alert.

As she pushed the door open wider, it revealed a slice of the dimly lit interior. She couldn't help but hold her breath as she stepped over the threshold, her footsteps hesitant, almost reverent, on the creaking floorboards.

She stepped deeper into her home and slowly entered the dimly lit kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a figure standing shrouded in shadows, a silhouette in the gloom. A gasp of shock emitted through her lips, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recognition washed over her like a tidal wave.

"Officer Anderson!" She yelled, placing a hand over her heart. "You scared me!"

"Ms. L/n," he breathed out, his expression softening when he saw her. "Where have you been?"

Guilt washed over her as she noticed the concern in his eyes but she quickly dismissed it, stepping further into the room, and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "I went to the gym."

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm supposed to accompany you—"

"You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you."

"You should've woken me up, Ms. L/n."

"You looked like you could use some sleep," she mentioned before glancing at the clock perched on the wall. "I was only gone for like an hour, it's not a big deal."

Officer Anderson looked like he wanted to argue with her, but stopped himself before letting out a sigh. "Can you please inform me whenever you step out of the house, even when I might be asleep?"

His concerned gaze met hers as he turned to her, a mixture of relief and worry in his eyes. Guilt twisted in her chest as she nodded. "Alright, I will."

"And please bring your phone with you at all times."

Her eyes snapped towards the device sitting on the counter. "I did forget to bring it with me, I'm sorry."

With a nod, the officer excused himself, giving her a moment of privacy to collect her thoughts. She watched him go, his retreating figure a testament to his dedication, despite the surprise of her brief absence.

Feeling overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—being scrutinized by an authority, being a potential target of a serial killer still on the loose—she retreated to her room, seeking solace in the familiar confines of her private space. She quickly peeled off her clothes which clung to her body from all the sweat and stepped into her bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the room as she turned on the shower, its warmth a soothing embrace. Steam enveloped her, and as the water cascaded over her body, the tension that had coiled within her began to unravel. Under the gentle caress of the water, she closed her eyes. Her shoulders trembled with the tension she had carried for so long, the weight of guilt, responsibility, and emotions too complex to unravel.

How had things turned the way it did? A few weeks ago her life seemed normal, yet now she was linked to a crime with her name at the center of it. This felt so unfair. Why her? Why now? Wh—

Bang!

She opened her eyes.

What was it now?

It sounded... it sounded like a thud coming from somewhere in her house.

The sudden interruption jolted her from the sanctuary of the shower. Her heart raced as she hastily wrapped a towel around herself and emerged from the bathroom, water droplets glistening on her skin. The door to her room suddenly wrenched open with force before a figure she last expected walked in.

"What the—Spencer!" She gasped, not believing who she was seeing. "What the hell?!"

His gaze met hers, and she saw something in his expression that sent a shiver down her spine. It was an anger she hadn't seen before, a storm brewing beneath the surface of his usual calm demeanor. His jaw was clenched, and his normally warm eyes were steely and cold.

"Are you crazy?" He suddenly snapped.

"Me?" She wailed, tightening the towel around her body. "Are you crazy? What are you even doing here?"

"What were you thinking going out without notice?" Spencer's tone was incredulous, his anger unabated. "Without informing Officer Anderson?"

So this was why he was here? To confront her reckless action perhaps?

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "He looked like he needed the sleep after constantly watching me with little to no rest."

Spencer's frustration deepened, his brows furrowing. "He's assigned to you to keep you safe. You can't just disappear like that, it's irresponsible."

"Well excuse me for being considerate," she retorted.

"You were being reckless."

"No," she argued. "I was being thoughtful."

"Why are you not taking this seriously?" His voice grew sharper, a desperate attempt to make her understand as he stalked towards her. "Can't you understand you were putting yourself at risk?"

"I was only gone for an hour."

"Something could've happened!"

"But nothing did!"

She met his frustration with a defiant glare, holding her ground as he approached her, his tall, intimidating frame only stopping when he was directly in front of her. She saw his eyes drift down her body before pinning his gaze on her face again.

"Y/n, I need you to be safe."

"I am safe! I've been safe ever since you guys put someone to watch over me. I've been safe ever since the same person has been following me everywhere I go, which if you haven't caught on my sarcasm, has made me feel more like in prison than actually feeling protected." Her voice was tinged with frustration as she squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. "It's like I'm being controlled."

"It's not about controlling you, it's about ensuring that nothing bad happens to you."

"I was simply gone for an hour, Spencer," she reminded him again. "No need to go all dramatic over it."

Then in the blink of an eye, the heated tension that had filled the room seemed to snap, leaving them both breathless and disarmed. But instead of reacting with anger or shouting, Spencer's frustration found a different outlet.

"Why are you not fucking listening to me?"

And in a sudden and unexpected gesture, he cupped her face in his hands. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, filled with a mix of emotions too complex to name. And then, in a burst of raw and unspoken desire, he leaned in and crashed his lips on her.

She was too stunned to speak, too stunned to respond. There was nothing else she could do but to give in his advance, because dear god, it felt too good to have his mouth moving against hers again. Spencer had kissed her many times before, but not like this. Not this rough. She could even feel the frustration seeping from his body as his lips moved against hers with urgency.

He continued to kiss her, biting hard at her bottom lip, teeth gnashing against the soft flesh of it as a rumbling noise vibrated deep in his chest. Each time she gasped in response at his teeth, his tongue forced its way into her mouth and lapped so mercilessly that she was left desperate for air each time he returned to assaulting her with his teeth and lips.

"Is this what it would take for you to listen?" He growled against her mouth. "Is this what you want?"

Speechless, she responded to his ardor with a fervor of her own, her body leaning into his, fingers tracing the contours of his face. She continued to stare up at him, trying to quickly piece together what was going on, though she nevertheless found herself aroused. It was as if their desire, long suppressed by their arguments and differences, had suddenly ignited, leaving them both powerless to resist the pull of passion.

"Answer me," he barked out.

"Yes," she finally breathed out. "Yes."

Releasing her face, his hands rose in between them. Her eyes dropped down, watching as he gripped her towel with so much force before he ripped it off her body in one swift movement, throwing the material onto the floor.

His eyes roamed over her body, tracing every curve and contour with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. His hands traced over her sides before he gripped onto her hips, tugging her towards him desperately. "I won't be able to restrain myself."

She knew what he meant. She was acutely aware of the tension seeping from his body, all the anger, all the frustration. She understood how hard these past few days had been for him, she could even feel it from the taught in his muscles. He was tensed and from the way he was looking at her with hooded eyes, he needed a release.

And so did she.

The intensity of the moment had ignited a different kind of fire within her, and her previous anger and frustration began to fade away, which was why she found one of her hands caressing his cheek, pulling him closer as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Then don't," she whispered. "Use me."

His eyes snapped to her.

"You can use me, Spencer," she assured him. "Use me in any way you want."

There was a moment of silence as he contemplated her words. "Do you mean that?"

She nodded. She missed this—dear god, she missed him so much. She hadn't realized how much she missed being close to him until she was standing naked underneath his heated gaze.

She pressed her lips against his softly. "I'm all yours."

And then he deepened the kiss and she melted into him, her tongue dancing with his. He slowly loosened his grip on her hips and found its way onto her hand resting against his cheek. He pulled away from her, tugging her hand towards him, his mouth hovering above her wrist.

"In any way I want?" He asked, gently brushing his lips over her pulse.

"Any way you want."

He smiled at her then, the first smile she saw on him ever since he barged into her room unexpectedly. But there was something about his smile that sent her into a frenzy of nerves. It wasn't genuine, it wasn't gentle.

It wasn't until his other hand reached behind him that she finally understood what his smile meant. Because right at that moment, to her surprise, he retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and with a soft click he carefully bounded one of her wrists, the steel bracelets feeling cool against her damp skin.

And then his smile morphed into a more dominant edge as he leaned closer, his eyes burning with need.

"Any way I want."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: Did you think I wasn't going to insert another smutty scene in between all the chaos? You thought wrong!

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shitsndgiggs · 4 months ago

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Hello there i love your account very much.

Could you pls write a fan fic about kenan dating a muslim girl like him :).

Doenst matter if yn wears the hijab or no your preference

Thank you anyway

A/N: Again, I’m not muslim, so I tried my best. Definitely not my best work

SACRED MOMENTS - KENAN YILDIZ

In which you and kenan pray together

Kenan Yildiz x muslim! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The bustling streets of Istanbul were alive with the sounds of vendors calling out their wares, the scent of fresh simit wafting through the air, and the vibrant colors of the city all around us.

Kenan and I walked hand in hand, soaking in the atmosphere. Today, we planned to visit one of the city's most beautiful mosques, the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, also known as the Blue Mosque.

"It's been a while since we've had a day like this," Kenan said, squeezing my hand gently. His eyes were bright with excitement, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

"I know. I've missed spending time together like this," I replied, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine. The mosque loomed ahead, its minarets reaching towards the sky.

As we approached the mosque, the call to prayer echoed through the streets, a melodic and soothing sound that always brought me peace.

We stopped at the entrance to remove our shoes and perform wudu, the ritual washing before prayer.

Inside, the mosque was breathtaking. The intricate ceiling and the grandeur of the architecture were awe-inspiring.

We found a quiet corner to sit, in the prayer hall, the atmosphere serene and filled with reverence.

Kenan turned to me, his expression soft and contemplative. "I'm grateful we can share moments like this together."

I nodded, feeling a deep sense of connection not just to Kenan, but to our faith and our community. "Me too."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, letting the tranquility of the mosque envelop us. After the prayers, we took a leisurely walk around the courtyard, enjoying the cool breeze and the peacefulness of the surroundings.

Kenan looked at me with a playful glint in his eye. "Do you remember the first time we visited a mosque together?"

I laughed, recalling the memory. "Yes, I was so nervous! I was worried about doing everything right."

"You were perfect," Kenan said, his voice filled with warmth. "And you still are. I love how dedicated you are to everything you do."

Blushing, I nudged him playfully. "Stop making me blush!"

Kenan chuckled, pulling me close. "I can't help it. You're amazing, and I love you."

We continued our walk, stopping by a small café nearby for some tea. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city.

We found a table with a view of the mosque, sipping our tea and enjoying each other's company.

"Kenan," I began, hesitating for a moment. "I've been thinking about our future. About how we'll balance everything, like our careers and our lives together."

Kenan reached across the table to take my hand. "We'll figure it out, just like we always do. Our faith is our foundation, and as long as we keep that strong, we can handle anything."

I nodded, feeling reassured by his confidence. "I know. It's just... sometimes I worry."

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Remember what my mom always says? 'Allah tests those He loves.' Our faith will guide us, and we'll support each other through everything."

I smiled back, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. "You're right. I do love how we incorporate our beliefs into everything we do. Like our weekly Quran study sessions."

Kenan chuckled. "And how you always correct my recitation."

I blushed, playfully swatting his hand. "Well, someone has to keep you on your toes."

We both laughed, the sound melding with the soft hum of the café.

Our journey was just beginning, and I knew that with Kenan by my side, we could face anything together.

#football imagine #football x reader #turkiye #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz

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elliebelliegirl · 3 months ago

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okay following up though... i understand that you are jewish and Israeli but (not trying to attack you, just trying to understand) how can you stand with the state of Israel after seeing the numbers of atrocities that the IDF has committed - of course the hostages should be released, but palestine will cease to exist if this continues and this is an active genocide. people are being displaced and thousands have died. how can you in good conscience stand with the actions of Israel ?

im still assuming this is in good faith! i do appreciate that you're asking and not attacking, it's really nice change of pace tbh. please understand that my ethnicity and my political opinions are not the same thing and how i feel about the state of israel is divorced from my religious beliefs. i just also believe that my people have a right to live in our indigenous land. i also believe palestinians should be able to live in israel (many already do.) anyway, here's the deal.

first, im not israeli, but my family is. i was born and raised in the u.s. while most of my family is israeli, i am not (yet.) im an american jew with strong roots in israel.

second! israelis have been displaced since october, since the attacks by hamas, the governing body of gaza. they've been attacked and killed for years (the whole reason the iron dome exists is because missiles are such an active threat.) getting displaced or killed has happened to israelis and gazans. its terrible for everyone. i am human, and therefore uncomfortable with war, but i don't think it's a genocide. i am horrified by the deaths in gaza. i hate that innocents are being harmed. i don't want to add a however, but there's a big one- it's that the ratio of killed militants v.s civilians is unfathomably low. if israel wanted to kill everyone in gaza (which is 100% not the goal) they would be dead already. the war is active now only to eradicate hamas, which would be beneficial to gazans and israelis, and to rescue the hostages. israel has offered to end the war multiple times and hamas has refused.. because they refuse to return the people they kidnapped. the war could've been over months ago!!! months ago. israel did not instigate this war, and has repeatedly offered ceasefire deals. hamas is the one shooting these offers down. also, palestine wont just cease to exist.. im not sure what that part means, can you explain it? i want to understand you, too.

also. i have cousins in the idf. one of them was supposed to come over before last days on sukkot and couldn't make it in the end. over the weekend, october seventh happened. the next time we spoke, it was a phone call right after simchat torah ended. he was on his way to the airport, having been called back to israel to meet his unit in kfar aza and start collecting bodies. i only had a few minutes to tell him i love him and to stay alive on behalf of me and my siblings. the memory is so surreal. we turned on our phones for the first time in days to texts from our israeli family saying they were alive, not to watch the videos, not to look at the pictures. im still kind of stuck there on my couch, holding my siblings in a hug and wondering if someone who hadn't texted yet was dead. then we saw people celebrating the massacre. they haven't really stopped. so we knew we couldnt really count on anyone to protect us, and this was way before israel entered gaza. people were just happy jews were dead. don't know if this is a huge sidetrack, but. this is why i stand with israel. their goal is to keep my family alive. their goal is to keep as many gazans as possible alive. that is not the goal of iran and hamas. this goes further than zionism though, tbh. zionism is pretty simple as a principle 😅

#this fairly off the cuff #i dont think its very articulate #sorry about that #i hope i answered in a way that makes sense?#feel free to ask more questions if you want #jumblr #jewblr #i stand with israel #these are personal thoughts and not universal i hope that's clear :)#israel #also like. if youre asking if i support netanyahu?#i do not

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finleyforevermore · 9 months ago

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Dear Nex,

You're never going to see this. I know. I felt the need to write this for you anyway.

Maybe my input isn't needed because I'm cis, but I hope you and everyone else who sees this knows in spite of my gender identity and the privilege I have as a cis male that I'm aware that I have, I mean every word that I say. I never wanted to be privileged. I don't want to be privileged. I'm so incredibly sorry that I'm privileged. I know it's not right. I know it's not fair. If my input isn't needed, so be it. But I'm going to share it anyway.

My sorrow and rage and pain has not at all subsided since February 20, when I learned of your death. You've been in the back of my mind ever since. The grief and anger hasn't gone away. What your friends said about you and your family as well, shows that you were such a wonderful person. I wonder if you had social media. I would've loved to be your friend if you had Tumblr.

I find myself enjoying sunny weather and thinking "Nex would've liked this". I look at my friends' pet cats and think about Zeus. When listening to rock I wonder if you liked the song I listen to.

You were mistreated by your peers in life, because of your laugh, which I'm sure was wonderful, and the way you dressed. Being yourself cost you your life. And now even in death people refuse to respect you. Transphobes running rampant, calling you your deadname, someone here on Tumblr celebrating your death, labeled as filth. And now? Now your cause of death has been labeled as suicide. Even though absolutely none of it makes sense, and nothing adds up. It just doesn't make sense. And even if somehow you did commit suicide, the day before you did you were physically assaulted by your peers for getting fed up with being mocked. You were bullied before that too. Bullied relentlessly and mercilessly just for being you. The blood is still on their hands.

I'm utterly disgusted by the medical examiner, the state of Oklahoma, the transphobes, even myself sometimes for being so privileged because of my gender identity. I shouldn't be privileged for being cis. We should all be accepted and treated fairly and with care and love and respect. If only things were that ideal..

I'm crying now even as I write this. I so desperately wish that everything was different. That you weren't killed. That you could continue to hang out with your friends and be a kid. Making new recipes. Playing with Zeus. Playing your favorite songs. Making music, if you liked doing that.

Recently my faith and belief in God has been tested. But if there's an afterlife, a Heaven up there, I hope you're having fun and enjoying yourself up there. When I die and reach Heaven, I'll be sure to visit you.

On the other hand, if there's not a Heaven, I hope you're enjoying your eternal rest. Whatever being dead is like without an afterlife, I hope you're ok.

But until then I'm going to try my damndest to ensure your memory stays alive. Posting about you on social media and reblogging posts about you like wildfire so people never forget. I'm not going to let anyone forget you, Nex. I promise you. Me and all of the other people grieving here on Tumblr will continue to say your name, whether our shouts fall on deaf ears or not. We're never going to be silenced.

I raise my cup to you, Nex. You will be avenged. Justice will be served.

I didn't know you and I never will. You never knew me and you never will. But all the same, even if we're eternally strangers, I love you, Nex Benedict. I'm sorry the school failed you, I'm sorry the ambulance failed you, I'm sorry Oklahoma failed you, I'm sorry the world failed you. And perhaps I failed you somehow. And I'm so unbelievably sorry if I did. But I hope keeping your memory alive, and saying your name, and seeking justice can make up for it.

Until we're angels in Heaven once more.

Love, truly,

Finley

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chronosh0t · 8 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸺ 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 .*ೃ

───────────────────────────

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: Lee's pov, gn reader, canon-divergence,

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: “I hoped for luck, I looked for it and believed, not knowing it had your name in it�� — just something silly, maybe a log from him. might be ooc 〔 NO BETA 〕

…………

It wasn't easy. I think it never was. But at least, for a few years we weren't all by ourselves, maybe it didn't seem to be that way, or that's how I'd like to remember it. The point is, it really wasn't easy.

Young, inexperienced, and people would gradually try to take advantage of our situation, of our own nativity, innocence, or some would just try to help us for their own selfish reasons, personal satisfaction or beliefs, eventually leaving us alone. Waiting for some good luck to strike us and change a little bit our cruel reality, only to find out life doesn't work by luck. The world doesn't work by luck.

Luck is false hope for the powerless, the less fortunate, to feed their delusions, that one day things will change, one day perhaps their luck will change and misfortune will leave their side and be replaced by a God that'd help them. That is luck, and I keep thinking so. I believed in luck back then, desperate for a chance, merely to be met by the unwavering proof of reality.

I swore to do whatever, anything and everything, just to keep him safe. Growing up by the taste of bitterness, the mould in the walls and the cold sheets, inside a room that was not safe for either of us, it made me realise I was part of those adults. Working nonstop for some exchanges that barely kept us alive my mind was going numb, my hands were too cold and my logic was losing focus. I believed in luck. But luck was not an option, never was, never will. However, things needed to be done, anything was good and valid if it meant I could get the chance to save his body from his weak heart.

Did it ever cross my mind the idea of becoming some sort of hired assassin? No. I don't think anyone ever grows up having those ideas. Yet, there I was. Loading a gun, hiding in the darkness, my hands tinted with crimson red, cold as the river. Money was the only thing occupying my mind, my reasoning blind due to the lack of time. Yet I know it was also a bad idea, what if I end up dying? What if, for a single stupid mistake, I end up getting killed and disposed of like a bag of trash? He would've ended up alone. Risks needed to be taken.

So I took them. And I kept going. One step at a time, and I thought things would get better, falling in the traps of luck. Because even if I was smart enough, I was still a teenager, I was still a young, inexperienced kid trying to make it to another day. Eighteen years old, and I should be studying. I should be concentrating on which university I wanted to go to, maybe going out with some friends, maybe celebrating my birthday, his. Perhaps travelling to other places and taking pretty pictures for the memories with our family. Anything but whatever I was living right now.

Eighteen years and I was holding a gun, pointing at someone I didn't know and I didn't want to know. The more I knew the less I wanted to be part of this, the less I wanted to keep going, but that wasn't for me. I was selfless, as the older brother, that was what I was supposed to do. My job was to take care of him, to save enough money and help him. Did I ever regret it? No, I don't think I ever did. But I did wish for luck to come and help me. I couldn't never sleep properly, the idea of being unaware of what was happening was unpleasant to me. The same fear hunting me down whenever he went to sleep and I didn't know if something bad would happen. His heart was weak, and the days were harsh and cold.

But we made it work.

Did I mention how bitter is reality? I did all that, I killed so many people, I was betrayed and for what? For the world to take away the slim chance I built for a better tomorrow. Crushed by humanity's mistake. I refused to let go, so I took yet another risk.

I had the chance to give up my humanity for him to remain, for him to be strong, to finally have the chance to grow up in a stable environment, experience what people of his age do. That, I don't regret it. Even if it means to be betrayed again, to be used and disposed, to me neglected and hurt, to be left alone. It didn't matter, for the reality was slightly better than before.

But I didn't want to test luck. Yet I kept hoping. Even if I was against some of his choices, I still thought it was good because it meant he was growing, he formed his own opinion, forged his own paths. And that was more than enough, I couldn't ask for more. I shouldn't ask for more, right? Because that was all that I ever wanted. For him.

What about me, though? How laughable. Calling myself selfless when I was still greedy enough to wish, to hope for luck to come and save me. I was okay with how my life turned out to be because I was too busy to even think about it deeply. I thought of giving up. Of accepting my own reality.

I was someone who would judge those who believed in luck, or those who would wait instead of taking actions and change their fate. Yet, there I was. Inside that cold room, the dim light of the fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling, the industrial design of the metallic tables, and some digital screens beeping in the desk, filling the awkward silence between the three of us.

I was pondering what was the reason behind their decision of becoming a Construct. Did they have an unfortunate life like me? Or was it out of sheer selflessness and their sense of justice? I didn't care enough and I didn't want to know more than their names. Lucia and Liv. Because, from experience, I knew getting to know someone too much meant developing a sense of closeness I didn't want to. Their name was fine, that was more than enough.

It was the same with you. I just needed to know your name, nothing else, nothing more. Because we were made for war, made to fight in humanity's name, looking as human as possible but never being treated like one. We chose to, or forced to, give up that side of us for reasons no one but us would ever know.

Constructs were just that, war machines. To be used and disposed of. Yet, there you were. With your gentle voice and touch, leading us forwards but running at our side, giving us order but hearing our opinions and suggestions in every single step you decided to take. For you, the three of us, meant more than just machines to fight the enemy, we meant more than just a frame and a dog tag. To you, we were equal to humans. To you, we were friends, companions.

And I believed in luck. Because of you. I was able to let go of prejudice and decided to let my guard down, I decided to leave my past and traumas and give you my trust. You ended up being the reason I thought luck actually came and saved me. I wasn't betrayed, I wasn't used, I wasn't disposed of and I wasn't left behind. Because, for you, I was more than just a three letter name, I was someone you cherished deeply, I was part of your team, I was part of this… family.

I wasn't just Lee. I was Lee from Gray Raven. And I was not alone. The world, still as cold and harsh, the fights endless and my hands still hold guns, but now even if they're made of metal, they're not cold anymore. When I walk and I look at my side, there's my teammates and you. You, ready to risk that precious life to protect us, to give a chance for a new tomorrow, to give other people the chance to believe in hope.

You.

That's why, once again, I didn't think twice in risking my life if it means to bring the same chances, to deliver the same hope. Because I am Lee from Gray Raven, I decided to do what I only could do, fighting against time, against any odds, giving my life, my past, present and future to hope. Giving myself to this new family, giving my life to you, refusing to give up and settle for less. I made up my mind never resting again, not until I could meet a reality where Gray Raven is always together, the four of us.

And I will keep doing so. As long as Gray Raven exists, as long as you are here with me, I will keep fighting, I will keep holding those guns I used to hate the most, I will keep going forward, I will keep hoping. Because even if the world is cold and dark, every day the sun rises from the horizon. Because every single time, spring comes after the winter and the flowers bloom admits the chaos.

I once wished for luck to come and save me, not knowing it had a different name. Your name.

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#pgr #punishing gray raven #pgr lee #lee hyperreal #pgr global #canon divergence #oc x canon #sae pgr writings #lee save me #pgr commandant #first pov

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improvised-finish · 2 months ago

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #25 - Perpetuity

Content Warnings: Depictions of an anxiety attack/existential crisis (but everything does work out)

Spoiler Warnings: Big Big Spoilers for the last two zones of Dawntrail!

Summary: Lehon'a truly begins to contemplate the Endless, and finds herself in way over her head. Luckily, she's got someone by her side who knows just how to fish her out of the waters of metaphysical horror.

Check it out below or on Ao3:

Lehon'a had felt a dread in the pit of her stomach when their party had first set foot in Yyasulani, and that feeling had grown steadily more and more prominent as they'd learned more about life in this new version of Alexandria. It seemed that around every corner was some new philosophical quandary, laser focused to get Lehon’a to question her most deeply held beliefs. She'd held firm thus far, trying hard to recognize them as mere differences in culture, as ways of seeing the world that she herself couldn't agree with, but that she felt better for having come into contact with.

This, on the other hand, was something quite different.

Stepping into Living Memory, into this facsimile of a world, a simulacrum in the most literal sense of the word, set her teeth on edge. Knowing what she did about the place, it hid a horror behind the cheery facades and themed areas that dwarfed almost anything she could imagine.

More than becoming a Lightwarden, more than the calamity of the Final Days, more than any adversary she'd faced down; she couldn't imagine a worse fate. Stuck in a sickly-sweet recreation of your happiest memories, perpetually revived as a plastic, digital zombie. Unable to return to the star, and unable to leave your amusement park home.

The only thing worse than all of that was the knowledge that Sphene seemed to believe that it was for the best interest of her people to keep these systems running, even as the amount of energy required skyrocketed. It hardly took a studied scholar to figure out that as these energy costs grew and grew, that eventually there would come a point when there would not be enough left in all the shards combined to satisfy it, which would not only bring about an end to the Endless, but to all other life.

And yet, even in the face of such an existential threat to Etheirys, something so common to the Warriors of Light that it had almost become pedestrian, Lehon'a was paralyzed by the unique metaphysical implications of this specific world-ending calamity-to-be.

She knew in her rational mind that they were all computer programs, just simulations of what they were like in reality, but… Cahciua alone had proved that they had at least some capacity to reason and think independently of Sphene. The Endless weren't alive exactly, they didn't have need for food or drink or rest, but did that matter? Where was the distinction? Who decides?

These were the thoughts running through her head as they heard out Cahciua’s final request: to shut down each of the four areas’ terminals– for good.

A part of Lehon'a recoiled at this plan, and a part of her was eager to bring things to an end. A part of her protested that they were practically alive, and a part of her countered that they were already dead. A part of her insisted there must be some other way, and a part of her knew that there was none.

Cahciua herself added another layer; an Endless who wished to break the cycle. Not that her thoughts should be considered to be speaking on behalf of every Endless, but certainly she wasn’t the only one who longed for an escape that wouldn’t come until the very stars in the sky had been drained of all energy. Surely there were more like her.

Lehon’a watched as the rest of her party began to depart; mind racing a million malms an hour and her body frozen to the spot, as if the metaphysical quandaries might not notice her if she didn’t move. She could feel the world closing in around her, the weight of everything and everyone on her shoulders, the tightness growing in her chest, it was too much, too much, too much–

A gentle hand on her shoulder.

“My heart, is everything all right?” G’raha asked, concern obvious in his voice. “The others have started on their way, and… well, you don’t look yourself at the moment.”

The world of Living Memory, which had grown hazy in her vision, snapped back into focus. His touch was like a lightning rod, grounding her once again.

“Raha, I… I’m sorry, I… This place has sparked many questions about who we are and what it is we’re meant to be doing here, and I…” She trailed off to silence, as if hesitant to let the perfect image of the Warrior of Light slip for even a second. “I don’t think I have the answers. And I don’t know what to do.”

He pulled her into a hug, and she practically melted into his arms, tears beginning to stain his shirt.

“No one has all the answers, you know. Not me, not Shtola, not any scholar on our star or any other.” He stopped to look his partner in the eye. “And neither do you. And that’s okay. Because when we don’t have answers, we must go seek them out. I know the task at hand doesn’t seem to provide much room for alternatives, but it’s only when we’ve talked with the Endless and fully explored the possibilities that this place holds that we can know enough to come to a decision.” Lehon’a nodded. “The best we can do now is to see what there is to see, and to bring an open mind along for the journey.” He offered her a warm smile, and she smiled in return, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

After allowing Lehon’a another few moments to compose herself, he extended his hand to her. “Shall we catch up with our companions, then?”

Lehon’a took his hand in her own, squeezing it tightly. “Let’s.”

The questions continued to nag at her as they walked towards the first area, but knowing she had G’raha beside her, it felt a little easier to breathe.

#ffxiv #lehon'a nhavareh #my wol #warrior of light #g'raha tia #cahciua #dawntrail #dawntrail spoilers #ffxivwrite2024 #my writing #g'raha is (to no one's surprise) best boy

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the-nysh · 1 year ago

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Trimax vol1: when our 'Hero Returns' and it's all fun n games til shit gets real meeting a very messy meaty moral dilemma, just what is Vash to do?!

Context: when Vash busts in guns blazing to stop a steamer siege + hostage situation between two warring factions of a city from escalating into a bloodbath. His purpose: to save lives and prevent any more deaths, fueled by his ongoing belief and sworn promise in Rem's memory to protect all those she sacrificed her life to save. Where it's smooth sailing til Vash encounters his most difficult roadblock: a grieving father who's dead-set on killing his daughter's murderer (ch6: 'Sin') A very painful but brilliant test challenging the extent of Vash's beliefs and how far he'll go to 'save.'

And why does this dilemma hurt so good? Because at that moment, with a flash of recognition stopping Vash dead in his tracks, he realizes all their pain and anger, driven into the need to enact justice for the death of a family member, is exactly the same. *record scratch* Oh shit...

"This bastard killed my daughter!" vs "That monster killed Rem!" The father taking matters into his own hands, wanting to personally punish [the sinner] to avenge his daughter, parallels Vash's thoughts (Trigun vol2) towards Knives for [the sins] of killing their mother Rem! :O

Where their shared pain, urgency, and justifications to send (him) to hell--down to even the very language used (that 'animal'/'monster') are no different. Even Vash's own words 'you stubborn old fool! Just who gave you the right to decide?' (who lives or dies) ironically come back to bite him hard. That Vash instantly realizes he has no 'higher moral' grounds to speak here... There's nothing he can say or judge the man for being driven by the same feelings to pick up a gun that've kept him alive for so long! So what can he do? How can Vash possibly interfere? Cause even Wolfwood knows how often those who'd never fight will take up arms for the sake of lost loved ones. So being confronted with this situation almost mirroring his own with Knives, does it make Vash reconsider his whole life's motivations thus far? Now that he sees just what it's like from the perspective of an outsider?? Ohhh what a mess!!

The sequence of him remembering back to Rem & Knives, weighing everything that's at stake full of inner conflict and hesitation, is brilliant as he slowly lowers his gun...

Cause if the weight of the killer's crimes bears any resemblance to Knives, then Vash concedes, almost dropping his head in regret and shame--cause he understands the father's difficult situation quite well! Having pointed his own gun towards Knives with the same intent before... Would stopping this man from enacting his revenge right now, invalidate all of Vash's feelings on his quest to punish Knives too?! hrgghhh....he can't do it. Even if allowing this 'exception'--this 'justified' death to happen before his eyes, clashes with his promise to Rem??

God, the sequence of Vash's expression internally warring with himself over what he should do...as the killer pathetically wails and pleads for his own life in increasing desperation, begging right in Vash's face for someone to come save him....urrrghh the pressure is SO hard, so difficult!!! ;o; Cause there's no easy 'right' answer here.

What makes this dilemma hurt even more, is how Wolfwood even warned him about tough situations like this beforehand. About the necessity of making quick, cruel, pragmatic choices in timely matters of life & death. Where if someone's bound to die in the equation, and if Vash keeps on inserting himself into it without choosing to save himself, then he must be prepared to take the hard route (the darker role) of killing someone else in exchange, if anyone is to be saved or make it out of this alive at all. As to him, it's humanly impossible to save everyone, so a tough decision must be made, or wallowing in indecision helps no one.

But the thing is...Vash isn't so naive or clueless (as Wolfwood thinks he is) that he needs to be lectured about matters of life & death. He knows; he's always been serious about that, saving people in his own way for longer than Wolfwood's been alive! And it's not just him recklessly jumping into the fray, fueled by only his promise to Rem without considering the repercussions of what he's doing; his resolve goes deeper than that. He personally understands the gravity of loss, so he's not about to coldly treat other people's lives so lightly like throwaway tools or equations to write off either--he's not about to let them die, so long as he can help it. But whether or not you consider this selfish of him to decide other people's right to live (with second chances) is another matter. He repeatedly chooses to get himself so involved because he knows if he stands by and does nothing at all to help then no one gets saved! He doesn't need Wolfwood to tell him that...

[So really, the crux of his moral dilemma doesn't really hinge on matters like 'killing is bad/wrong!' (as it seemed the 98 anime tried to portray here) or even on the grayer subjectivity whether the killer even deserves to live for his crimes - cause if Vash didn't agree or empathize with the father's pain (understanding his side, his choice), he'd have already shot him by now (in the shoulder or leg somewhere) to 'save' the killer, just as he warned beforehand: 'don't give me a reason to shoot you.' But since Vash realizes it's not his place to make that kind of judgement call, especially when it's too difficult to remain objective with clear 'absolutes' in cases like this when things turn complicated, he can't simply shoot anyone here either.]

So what else can he do? If he still wants to do things ~His Way~? In the end, what drives Vash to make a decision still comes down to that choice of inaction vs action (where walking away--as even Wolfwood insisted they do to save themselves from getting dragged in, is also an option), cause Vash knows that if he simply idles or gives up now without doing something in time, then no one gets saved--and THAT would betray himself the most.

And so...(he can't not do Something!)

(The way he already has tears in his eyes feeling ripped apart over this...)

"Don't you dare judge me by your high and mighty standards! What do you know about my pain?!" .......Oh what cruel irony, because that's the other thing--Vash does know. How much it hurts. :') He may not have lost a daughter but he does understand the pain of losing a mother to the point of aiming a gun enraged at the perpetrator all the same...he's not 'judging' the father for any of that either...

So all Vash can really do here....is hold the man's gun (in silent sympathy and understanding--he's not even forcing it away! just...holding it) as he bears the brunt of the father's venting anger and punishments upon himself. Taking a violent beating in place of the killer's [sins] *gasp* how very Christ-like...

In the end, the father is allowed to grieve and vent all his pain and frustrations without killing anyone--he is saved from becoming a cold-blooded killer. And Vash is saved from having to betray himself with the weight of a preventable death literally on his hands. A merciful but messy result still so full of pain unhealed on all sides, but no one died--everyone can walk away (in custody) to live another day, humbled and perhaps changed by the experience... (But who can say for sure? That's probably beyond anyone's power to know.) If anything, whatever 'faith' resonated between their shared pain, in a connection (or moment of regret? weakness? especially once the killer started begging for his own father to save him, ouch) that ultimately stayed the father's hand from pulling the trigger, Vash acknowledges it saved them both...

With this result, I feel the whole thing illustrates Nightow's message from his Comickers Art Style interview:

When life and death come into the picture, the story inevitably becomes heavy. …There is a conclusion I’ve come to while constantly confronting the story. In the end, I think people hurt and take lives because they don’t know enough about each other. If they knew each other well, the weight would be significantly different. …Vash ended up being portrayed as an existence that perceives [that] from the perspective of a crawling existence. (One who lives long, directly interacting among people and feeling the existence of the other party with his skin as he continues to wander.) …In the end, I think that knowing, conveying, and connecting with each other for everyone is a power that restrains various forms of violence. The word ‘family’ in Trigun contains that meaning. And in the end, the thing that pierces the heart the most when you understand others, is pain, isn’t it?

Where that's basically what happened: Vash choosing to intervene and connect (in understanding) through that human level of pain...ultimately restrained the killing blow. :') Even the Doc's relevant comment this chapter about how far Vash is willing to go, and get himself hurt, for the sake of saving those he considers 'family' (beyond blood)...I feel that means, if Vash could closely relate and see the father as fellow 'kin' through their shared pain...he went that far intent to save the father (rather than the life of the killer) from committing another terrible sin they'd both regret...it all feels connected to what Nightow wanted to convey...

I also wonder how much of this experience, connecting and empathizing with the father's situation here, affected Vash's future encounters with Knives, on whether he restrains the killing blow towards him the next time they meet as well.

And while I think Vash choosing the martyr approach to literally bear all the pain (and sins of humanity) directly on his skin wouldn't be sustainable if he were a regular human who'd probably be long dead by now--so the fact that he's not, makes a huge difference towards how long he can effectively keep this up. As his way becomes exceedingly difficult to sustain in the long run (so there's truth in Wolfwood's perspective as a human, knowing Vash's way to save can't always hope to work out--eventually somebody will have to die.)

But in the end, Wolfwood (who still thinks Vash naively looks at the world thru rose-colored glasses) cautioning him about needing to commit towards that hard choice (about killing somebody) one day, rings with the most foreboding feeling ever...(with as much 'subtle' foreshadowing as the panel of Wolfwood standing across from an open coffin this volume...Nightow please...)

#trigun #trigunbookclub #commentary #long text post #this was SO difficult i honestly felt stuck and unqualified to talk about this #and YET the feelings were still so brilliant i couldn't just Not say anything either aaaa #but getting this out i can finally progress onto the next vol

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docholligay · 4 months ago

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Doubt

This is what I read/talked about for Shavuot, as according to my congregation's tradition of sharing teaching and ideas with each other. Because it was made for a Jewish audience, and made to be spoken instead of written, it may come off as different or less smooth than some of my other writings. But I know some of you wanted to see it, and I hope it's interesting enough. It's based on the reading above. I considered recording me speaking it instead but then, well, didn't.

The Hebrews wandered the desert for forty years, never knowing where they were going and when they would get there.

I never understood why God laid such a punishment on them, when I was a child, for being cautious, for being afraid. Forty years, because you know your enemy is bigger and stronger than you? My mother had always told me that to be wise was as important as being brave, and I was confused.

When I was a young woman, I embraced this idea that the weak will roam, and only the strong, those who believe that they can fight against the impossible will claim the land that was promised. The Torah turns as we do, sometimes, reflecting different facets in the light we put it in, and in my youthful anger I found a flame to illuminate my belief.

I am no longer young, and I know the truth now.

God made them wander around the desert for forty years so every Jew would understand what it was to be lost.

“Doubting is but the forefront of faith/a faith in an infinite growth of an unbounded creation.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever read that during our silent prayer, there are more than a hundred other things you could choose, and so maybe none of you have. But I’ve read this so many times,because I have wandered the desert for the past few years, and doubted.

I have been in the desert, and I cannot reach water, but I doubt that I can never reach it. That is not a fact, that it is hopeless. And so I keep walking. Doubt is not only the rejection of success, but the rejection of failure. Doubt is to give over the idea of certainty, and open yourself to possibility.

“A doubting age is one of restlessness” and I have been that. I ran around Europe for a month, and the US another month, and I was looking for different things all of them. Looking for water, and sometimes I’d find it in the London fog, and Louisiana's thick swamp. Sometimes all I was there to do was wind my hands around the bars of a Holocaust memorial, where even in death they still weren’t safe, or run my hand over a plaque to a community razed to the ground, only those brass letters holding it to the earth.

“Discontent with what is current; Doubt is an idea that is still alive.”

I don’t know if any of you have ever seen the movie Dogma, and, if you haven’t, I’m not sure most of you would particularly enjoy it, but there end of it has a woman who has encountered angels, demons, and God herself, asked by a forgotten disciple, if she believes.

“No,” she says,having seen the near end of the creation, “but I have a good idea.”

My faith began when I learned to doubt. When I let go of the idea that someone had to know, and looked instead at the rabbis and scholars who have made up what we are disagreeing, the folks I see arguing with passion in Torah study, and even as I lay in bed reading the Talmud, arguing with myself, that is when I was able to feel the fire that lit the inside of the temple, and my offering to be burnt on the altar was that I do NOT know.

But I have a good idea. And it is alive. And it is learning. And God wants me to doubt Him. Or Her, if this author follows the position of Rabbi Kevin Smith, and in doubting God I will not be sure that I am unequal to the task of this study, of this life. I must doubt that this stone is to be picked up at all, and I must doubt that I cannot take the load of this one.

“To doubt that the past has uncovered all things/is to express faith/that many things are still to be uncovered.”

When I tell most people, outside of these walls, that I have had a crisis of belief for the past few years, they struggle to believe me. I pray every morning, I have Shabbat dinner every Friday, I study Torah and Hebrew and Jewish philosophy, and all this is true. I seek because I have not found. I think I’m finally learning that faith is not a destination, it’s a journey, and doubt must come with you, because doubt is hope that things do not have to be the way they are right now.

That’s what it means to be Jewish, to doubt everything because then we can create anything. We can pursue justice, and doubt that it cannot be caught. We can repair the world, and doubt that it will only break again.

And if it escapes, we will pursue again. If it breaks, we’ll fix it, and we’ll continue to doubt that it’s the end of it. Or at least that’s what it means to me, now.

Because we have faith that there is ever more to do. That there’s things that haven’t yet begun to grow for the harvest, that there’s rain that hasn’t yet fallen on the dry land, and that every hole I have buried a piece of my heart in, I have to doubt it’s a grave. Maybe it’s a seed. What the fuck do I know? I don’t. I don’t know that I want to anymore.

“To doubt that we have grown / to our full stature and knowledge / is to express faith that we may develop / into beings of such power and dignity / that we cannot as yet imagine what shall be.”

I have started to find the beauty in being lost. Just another Hebrew, wandering the desert. When I was young, I burned hot, and the Torah told me exactly what I wanted to hear, because I had certainty in what I knew. It tried to whisper things I did not know, but I refused to doubt that I did not already understand. I stayed in the same place, and I was never lost, and all it did was carve out a rut that God has commanded me, us, everyone, to pull ourselves out of.

It’s my birthright and my privilege, not to know where I’m going. Not to know who I will be when I reach there. I look back on the path I have tread all around this world, these past years, and I see a woman filled with fire, a woman filled with dust, a woman who is welding away the steel around her soul to create a place where things can live. I do not understand anything, anymore. I don’t know where I’m going, or how I’ll get there.

And that means I could go anywhere.

#patreon release #non-fiction

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 2 years ago

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Kicho's Main Story Chapter 4 Part 2

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories. JP SPOILERS under the cut.

My heart thumped as memories that hadn’t faded yet came flooding back to me.

The emotion was so simple, but it certainly moved me.

Mai: “I was happy because it was something I made.”

Mai: “When I realized I could make someone happy, I felt like I had some meaning.”

(I see. So that’s what it was.)

Mai: “I’ve always wanted to be someone.”

(To feel like I could be there.)

Kicho: “To be someone?”

Mai: “Yes. So no matter where I am, I always end up struggling.”

I spoke these words in self-mockery, but for some reason, Kicho nodded and accepted my words.

Kicho: “People are all like that. But that doesn’t make them evil.”

Kicho: “As long as you live in this world, the opinions and beliefs of others will make who you are.”

Kicho: “That’s why everyone has unanswered questions.”

Mai: “Everyone?”

Kicho: “Still, don’t forget. Wherever you are, whatever you do, you are you.”

Kicho: “As long as you have your will to live, this truth will never change.”

Kicho: “You are not just someone. You’re Mai.”

Kicho: “Wherever you are, whatever you do, just live as you.”

Mai: “............”

“Mai”

The name he said was already familiar to me, but it almost made my feelings a jumbled mess.

Undeniably, it was a sign of my existence that I have continued to live up to this day.

(I wonder if I have to go back from the start.)

(As long as I want to live, am I allowed to stay here as I am?)

Shaking with confusion, I stared at his hazel-green eyes looking at me.

He didn't turn away. His eyes only sparkled gently.

Mai: "You're right. I'm me."

Kicho: "Yeah. Even if you run through different times."

Kicho: "You said your dreams got cut off, yet here you are. You didn't give up."

Mai: "Yes, there is no way I would give up."

Mai: "As I said before, I think I'm the type of person who always struggles."

Kicho: "I see."

(Oh, he smiled.)

All my attention was drawn to his eyes, perhaps because I always see him expressionless.

His smile, different from the one I had seen before, was even more gentle, making my heart skip a beat.

(Maybe it's because I saw something unusual or because he smiled at me, and that's why I'm happy?)

Kicho: "Why are you suddenly smiling?"

Mai: "Huh? I'm smiling too?"

Mai: "Sorry. I'm just happy you smiled."

Kicho: "............."

Kicho: "I'm alive, so I also smile. That one was involuntary."

(It's a little disappointing that he's back to his usual self, but一)

Mai: "Thank you. I feel better now."

Kicho: "It was no big deal."

Mai: "It was. At least, for me."

(I never thought he would say that to me, but I'm happy.)

My chest tightened painfully as if scolding me for receiving his words honestly.

(The more I get to know this guy, the more indecisive I become.)

------------Flashback------------

Mai: "Um, can I still stay here?"

Kicho: "Well, you have nowhere else to go."

Mai: "Yes."

Kicho: "Then you can stay. But believing that you're from the future is different from trusting you."

Kicho: "I only have one condition."

Kicho: "Is something bothering you?"

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "No, of course, there is. The norm here is different from the one you're used to."

Kicho: "For example, you could talk to me like this, but you couldn't read the letters of this period."

Kicho: "Compared to what it was in the future, it's totally different."

Mai: "Yeah. I can't read it."

Kicho: "If you want, I can teach you."

Kicho: “Mai!”

Mai: “Kicho!?”

Kicho: "Don't give up. Keep going and put your strength into it."

---------Flashback Ends---------

I thought if I got to know him, I could put the missing pieces together.

But now, this thought was slowly taking shape and confusing me.

I was afraid to find out what I wanted to know more about.

(What should I do now?)

(Even if I’m his secretary, nothing has changed in our relationship.)

(He’s still my enemy, and I’m a spy.)

(There’s no way I could ever betray someone.)

(But betray who?)

Kicho: “Mai.”

Mai: “Y-Yes?”

Kicho: “You must be tired. Get some rest tonight.”

Kicho: “The rain should stop in the morning, so hopefully, we’ll be able to leave soon.”

Mai: "Okay. Then good night."

I bid him goodnight, trying not to show my confusion, and then crawled under the futon placed at the end of the room and turned my back as I closed my eyes.

(He believed me when I told him I came from the future, and he saved me several times, but I've been betraying him ever since we've been in this relationship.)

I gripped my sleeve with my fingertips, feeling the pain of the pressure, but then一

Kicho's voice: "Mai."

Mai: “----!”

When I heard his gentle voice calling me, I had no choice but to turn around.

Mai: "Um, what is it?"

Kicho: "I know it’s difficult for you not to be cautious of me, but don’t worry, I won’t lay a hand on you just because we’re sharing a room."

(I guess I gave him the wrong impression.)

Mai: "No, I wasn't being cautious. I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable."

Mai: "Although it's true that I've been thinking about you."

Kicho: "Ha?"

He raised an eyebrow and sighed.

Kicho: "What are you suddenly saying?"

Mai: "Um, I don't mean it in a weird way!"

Kicho: "I know, but that comment is uncalled for."

Kicho: "Never say that to anybody other than me."

Kicho: "Others might take it the wrong way."

Mai: “Okay. Hm?”

Kicho: “What’s wrong?”

Mai: “N-Nothing.”

Kicho: “You’re all over the place.”

Mai: “Hahaha… I guess.”

(The way he just said it means it’s okay to say it in front of him.)

(Nope, I’m sure he’s just being reasonable. I get what he’s trying to say.)

I laid down on the futon again, my head spinning as I tried to come up with a crazy explanation.

(Let’s not think about it, or I might not make it tonight.)

Mai: “I’ll sleep now. Good night.”

Kicho: “Yeah. Good night.”

Feeling the gentleness of Kicho’s voice echoing in the darkness, I slowly closed my eyes.

Before I knew it, my dark thoughts quickly faded into the corner of my consciousness, replaced by sleepiness.

Hideyoshi: “Here’s the information we’ve received from around the region. For more details, please refer to this report.”

Nobunaga: “Oh? Was he responsible for the recent incident as well?”

Hideyoshi: “Probably. However, we haven’t received any news from Mitsuhide.”

Hideyoshi: “Just what on earth is that guy doing in Sakai?”

Vassal’s voice: “Lord Nobunaga, Lord Hideyoshi, excuse me!”

Vassal’s voice: “Just now, someone received a letter from Lord Mitsuhide.”

Hideyoshi: “-----!”

Nobunaga: “I see. Bring him in.”

Vassal’s voice: “Yes, sir.”

After a short reply, the door opened, following the sound of light footsteps.

Mitsuhide’s vassal: “Excuse me. Here you go, Lord Nobunaga.”

Nobunaga: “Yeah.”

Nobunaga received the letter, unfolded it, and read it.

Nobunaga: “I see. Mai, huh?”

Hideyoshi: “Is something wrong with her!?”

Nobunaga: “She successfully infiltrated as a spy, but after that, Mitsuhide lost contact with her.”

Hideyoshi: “Mai.”

Hideyoshi: “Lord Nobunaga, Kicho is a very careful and clever man.”

Hideyoshi: “I think leaving it to an inexperienced person alone was too risky.”

Hideyoshi: “Maybe we should send a few of our best men over there.”

Nobunaga: “No.”

Hideyoshi: “But...”

Nobunaga: “..............”

Hideyoshi: “No, my apologies. It is as you are trying to say.”

Hideyoshi: “You sent Mai there not only because Kicho raised his hand against you.”

Hideyoshi: “Also, if she needs help, I’m sure Mitsuhide will contact us as soon as possible.”

Hideyoshi: “So what’s the situation一”

Instead of replying, Nobunaga held out a letter to Hideyoshi.

Hideyoshi immediately took it and looked down at the written report.

Hideyoshi: “I see. Mai is...”

Nobunaga: “To sneak into the inner circle of a man who is so hostile to other people一she really is an intriguing woman.”

Nobunaga: “However, we don’t have enough time to wait for her report.”

Hideyoshi: “Yes. The reports we have are consistent with what’s coming in from all over the region.”

Hideyoshi: “Lord Nobunaga, what should we do?”

Nobunaga: “Tell everyone as soon as possible. Our next plan is一”

At the same time, at Kasugayama Castle.

Kenshin: “I’m bored.”

Kenshin dropped the report in his hand onto the tatami mats as he said this.

Kenshin: “It makes no sense to wage war now on Nobunaga.”

Shingen: “Are these guys currently separated by the rebellions happening all over the country?”

Kenshin: “Yeah, there’s just a lot of unnecessary interruptions.”

Kenshin: “I’d rather fight someone who can go all out.”

Shingen: “There was another skirmish on the outskirts of Echigo the other day.”

Shingen: “According to Yuki, they have several weapons that don’t match their fighting strength. He also said that most of them are imported abroad.”

Shingen: “It looks like they’re not only targeting the Oda army.”

Yoshimoto: “Kicho is really troublesome, huh?”

Kanetsugu: “Yeah, he used to be in the Oda army.”

Kanetsugu: “Lord Shingen. I think Kicho probably sent those weapons to them.”

Shingen: “Yeah.”

Shingen: "If his goal is not to defy Nobunaga, then what the hell is it?"

Shingen: "All of Japan right now is in chaos. If this continues, everything will eventually get caught in a sea of fire."

Yoshimoto: "That's bad news."

Kanetsugu: "............."

???: "Excuse me, Lord Kenshin."

Kenshin: "It's you. Come in."

Sasuke: "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Sasuke: "I've compiled additional reports from the nokizaru regarding the rebellions.”

Sasuke: "Also..."

Yukimura: "Lord Shingen, I'm back."

Shingen: "Yuki, that was fast."

Yukimura: "Yes. It was quickly settled. Also, I heard some weird rumors, so I thought I'd get to it right away."

Sasuke: "By the way, I think that weird rumor has some credibility."

Sasuke: "I met and talked with someone at the castle gate earlier, and what he said matched what I collected from the nokizaru."

Kenshin: "Tell me about it."

Sasuke: "Yes."

Sasuke and Yukimura looked at each other and then briefly announced the news, causing everyone's faces to turn grim.

Kenshin: "If that rumor is true, I won't tolerate it."

Kenshin: "I'll die of boredom if I don't destroy him quickly."

Shingen: "Besides, I don't think the people will be able to live peacefully in this state."

Yoshimoto: "If there's a possibility that more beautiful things will get destroyed, I wouldn't just sit back."

Kanetsugu: "Lord Kenshin, please give the order. I'll surely take that man's head."

Yukimura: "Hey, wait. He already knows what you look like and who you are."

Yukimura: "Are you going to rush into the trading post and kill him?"

Kanetsugu: "If that's what Lord Kenshin wants."

Kenshin: "Wait, Kanetsugu. Sasuke, go to Sakai and find out what he's up to."

Sasuke: "Me!?"

Sasuke: "Maybe you want me to solve that mystery, too."

Yukimura: "What are you mumbling about? You mean that spy from the Oda army?"

Yoshimoto: "I don't understand一wait, what?"

Yukimura: "It's probably just a rumor, but I heard that a woman came to Kicho's place as a spy."

Sasuke: "-----!"

Shingen: "That's one hell of a brave girl. I'd love to meet her someday."

Kenshin: "Stupid woman. She's gonna die there."

Sasuke: "Don't tell me that woman is..."

Sasuke: "I understand. I'll go to Sakai."

At the same time, deep in the mountains.

Kennyo: "You said you wanted to talk to me, so I came over only to find you wanting to help me?"

Motonari: "Yeah. You're trying to take revenge on Nobunaga, right? Japan is now getting f*cked, so this is a perfect time."

Kennyo: "I see. Then you are the ones who instigated this."

Motonari: “Ha?”

Kennyo: “For the past few days, something has been blowing in the air and trees.”

Kennyo: “It’s the smell of burning grass, trees, houses, people, and many other things.”

Motonari: “So what? Didn’t you also burn the Honnoji temple?”

Motonari: “This is one of the ways to achieve our goal.”

Motonari: “Besides, we only provided the opportunity. The choice was theirs.”

Kennyo: “............”

Motonari: “People are all the same. When they have a bit of money in their hands, they easily turn on others.”

Motonari: “How can a vengeful demon who deviated from his path and plotted to kill people be so nice now?”

Kennyo: “I don’t mean to be nice.”

Motonari: “Really? Well, think about it anyway. It’s not like it’s gonna hurt you.”

Motonari waved his hand and walked away with his men in tow.

Kennyo: “That’s right. I’ve strayed from my path.”

Kennyo: “I don’t care if I fall into hell.”

Kennyo: “I’m willing to become a demon to take revenge on Nobunaga.”

Kennyo: “I’m determined to get him to hell first, even if it means taking my students with me.”

Kennyo: “But..."

The night wind blew, shaking the metal rings of his staff.

The smell of the wind and the sound of his staff made Kennyo’s face contorted.

Kennyo: “Will I follow the demon or not?”

Kennyo: “There are too many to take to hell.”

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#ikemen sengoku #ikesen kicho #ikesen kichou #ikesen jp #ikesen #ikesen spoilers #cybird

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fandomworldofdreams · 5 days ago

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Hospital For Souls

"I'm at the edge of the world. Where do I go from here? Do I disappear? Edge of the world. Should I sink or swim? Or simply disappear? Your eyes are swallowing me. Mirrors start to whisper, shadows start to sing. My skin's smothering me. Help me find a way to breathe."

-Bring Me The Horizon

Previous: Prologue , CHP1

Chapter II: Sleepwalking

The morning came faster than Valeria had expected. She did not eat again for breakfast and was immediately escorted to another office with yet another name.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, PhD.

She wasn't sure what to make of him when he opened the door. He seemed almost regal, his suit was finely pressed and his demeanor was confident and formal.

He had the guards remove her cuffs and guided her to a soft chair.

She took time to take in his office, she wasn't as nervous as she had been with Dr. Crane.

Large bookshelves with piles of academic texts filled the room. Red curtains that reminded Valeria of her blood.

His desk was an ebony color and she admired the Renaissance artwork on his wall.

"Ms. Gray, my name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. I am going to be your main therapist for your time here." Velaria was still scanning the statues in his office.

"Please, just Valeria," she said softly. He smiled as she met his gaze.

"Then I insist you call me Hannibal. Very lovely name. It's Latin, correct? Meaning 'to be brave' "

Valeria couldn't help her dry laugh. "Yes, that is the translation. My father teaches Latin along with Greek history at Gotham University."

He tilted his head. "You do not believe it fits you." There was something intimidating and yet welcoming about this man.

"I took a cowardly root and tried to kill myself, I have never been very brave in my life."

"Bravery is subjective," his voice was like silk. "You suffer from depression. One might think you brave everyday for fighting it. Everyone cannot be brave all the time, we must have our moments of cowardice. That makes us human."

His aura was a woodsy brown with specks of dark blue, but there was a color deep in the layers that seemed hidden. Tightly locked away.

"Well, I'm tired of being brave then," Valeria's voice shook slightly.

"Why don't you walk me through what you did the day you you attempted to kill yourself. Would you feel comfortable recalling what happened?" Valeria hesitated then nodded.

"If it's premeditated does that mean you can keep me longer?"

He chuckled softly. "No, Valeria it wouldn't affect it."

"Well the night before I drank lots of water. Then the next day I hit a darker and darker place as the day went along. My father was out working. Around 4 I poured a glass of whiskey, put on some music and then did it."

She thought he would judge her lack of emotions towards the memory.

"Are you in school?"

"Not since Lucian, my brother, passed away. I dropped out to be with my father."

"How was your father towards you during that time?"

"Aloof," she said softly.

"What were you studying?"

"Occult sciences and parapsychology," she said, shoulders tensing.

"You're intrigued by the belief in life after death and mystical influences." His tone wasn't judgement, curious if anything.

Valeria relaxed a hair. "Yes. My mother was a medium when she was alive. She used many forms of divination to communicate with the other side. She also did reiki."

"Did you inherit any of these gifts?"

She paused, biting her lip. Hannibal fixed her with a calm stare. "I wouldn't call it inherit. Anyone can have these abilities if they open themselves. But I am able to see auras and use tarot cards." That was all she would tell him for now. She needed to see how he'd react to that. It had been so long since she'd told someone. The only other person who knew was Emily.

"You see the colors of someone's energetic field?" She gave a curt nod.

"Is that why you didn't wish to continue seeing Dr. Crane?" Her cheeks heated up immediately and she fumbled. She hadn't thought that perhaps they were friends.

"Yes." She shifted uncomfortably.

"What do you see when you look at mine?" She gazed at him again and watched as the colors swirled and changed.

"With all due respect, Dr. Lecter, I have already shared more than I'm comfortable with on that subject." He smiled.

"Of course, my apologies. Curiosity got the better of me. Is this your first time in therapy?"

"No, I went to it when I was younger and was diagnosed with depression." He wrote something down.

"Were you and your brother close?" His tone softened.

Valeria bit her lip and nodded. "He was my best friend. After mom died we were all each other had."

"Do you have any friends?"

Valeria pondered the question for a moment. "I have a friend, Emily. The other people I know are acquaintances because she is very social."

"It can be beneficial to have an extroverted friend when you yourself are introverted. Someone to push you. It can also be draining, because they do not understand your desire for solitude in order to recharge."

"Who said I was an introvert?" She felt stupid as soon as she'd asked the question, but Dr. Lecter just smiled.

"Most extroverts would not refer to people in their social circle as acquaintances."

"Are you an introvert, Dr. Lecter?"

"I am able to adapt to how the situation needs me to be. I need to be extroverted and welcoming for my patients, but I also enjoy my alone time."

Valeria nodded and ran her hands over her bandages.

"I believe I will bring this session to a close early, allow you time to get acclimated to here and recover. You did very well." He stood and she followed, cheeks heating at his praise.

When the guards came in he instructed them not to cuff her and she cast him a look of gratitude to which he smiled at.

Valeria was brought to large room with a tv, bookshelves and games. There were around ten tables and a bunch of inmates.

She walked to a bookshelf and grabbed a random book before hurrying to a table and taking a seat.

She buried her nose in the book and tried to ignore the world.

"You must be new here."

Tried.

Valeria looked up to see a young man, around her age. He had black hair and a mole on his left cheek. When he smiled at her it showed his dimples.

"My names Sebastian, call me Seb." He took a seat in front of her. "What's your name?"

"Velaria."

"Stop tormenting the newbie." Velaria held back the urge to groan at the new voice. A girl also around their age stood there, arms crossed.

She smiled, taking a seat. "My names Jane."

Jane had silky brown hair and tan skin with eyes that reminded Velaria of the leaves in autumn.

"Velaria." She closed her book, getting the feeling she wasn't going to be left to privacy.

"That's a chill name," Seb smiled. Jane nodded in agreement. "So why are you here?"

"Attempted suicide." Velaria studied the way they didn't react negatively or uncomfortably to her words.

"Same," Seb smiled. "Jane too." Velaria tilted her head curiously.

"How long have you two been here?"

"A month," Seb said.

"6 weeks," Jane sighed. "Crane likes suicides, we're easy to keep and if we die he can blame it on our mental illness."

"Dr. Crane? Likes suicides to do what exactly?" Perhaps seeing his aura had been a good thing.

Jane shrugged. "A lot of his patients end up going out of their mind or dead."

"The majority, really," Seb added.

Velaria stared at them, seeing the soft and comforting colors of their auras she relaxed a bit. "Who do you two have as your therapists?"

"Dr. Lecter," Seb said.

"Dr. Garcia. There are only four doctors at the moment. Kind of short staffed."

"What about you?" Sebastian asked.

"Dr. Crane and Dr. Lecter. Apparently I gave Crane too much attitude and so he wants to see me as well."

Jane burst into laughter, nearly falling out of her chair. Velaria wasn't sure to laugh or feel embarrassed until Jane said, "Finally! Someone to take on Crane."

Velaria couldn't help the small blush and slight smile that tugged at her face.

"Maybe we can make sure we stay sane," Seb said. "Keep each other in check. Be like the breakfast club or some kinda bullshit like that."

Velaria looked at Jane who was smiling and looking at her with anticipation.

"We can try," Velaria agreed, holding out her hand to shake both of theirs. "After all, we're gonna need some support in this shit place."

The day came and went and soon Valeria found herself yet again sitting across from Dr. Crane.

He seemed less distracted this time, more interested in their conversation.

"I've heard you've been making connections,," he said, starting the conversation off. Valeria clenched her jaw, not keen on the idea of constantly being surveyed.

"Yes, we've started a little suicide support group." Her tone was cold. It had been a long day of talking and everything was beginning to irritate her. Especially this entitled ass.

He looked at her with distaste. "Ms. Gray, we aren't going to get anywhere if you are unable to even cooperate and be serious about the situation. Perhaps you wish to remain here?"

Valeria bit her tongue and hung her head. "No," a defeated whisper.

"Then let's continue this conversation as adults?" He asked, tone higher, as if talking to a child. She nodded.

"Wonderful! I also heard you haven't eaten today. Why?"

"I have trouble eating when I'm nervous. I just haven't gotten over that yet " it was a half truth.

"Why are you afraid?"

"Nervous," she corrected. He smiled, as if to say he knew something she didn't.

"Of course. Why are you nervous?"

"We're in an asylum," she wasn't trying to be sarcastic, it was an honest answer. "There are individuals here who have harmed others in terrible ways. There are many people around and it is a new environment I am attempting to acclamate to."

"Not a fan of social situations."

Valeria sighed. "Dr. Crane, with all due respect, I do not see how seeing Dr. Lecter and you is doing any good other than to overwhelm me."

"Talking about yourself causes you that much emotional distress?" He teased.

Valeria felt like crying.

"I wonder if your brother had received help like you are if he would have followed down the same path."

Valeria's blood ran cold. A match was lit and hovered over wood in her body.

"You do not speak of my brother." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why not? Are you ashamed of the drug addict he became who was so careless he overdosed? The actions he took that had no regard for anyone but himself?"

"We're done," she growled, standing from her chair and walking to the door. When she turned the knob it was locked. "Dr. Crane, open this damn door!"

"Very well, we can talk about someone else. Your idiot father who could neither see nor intervene when it came to the decline of his children." He was standing, walking closer to her. Valeria pressed her back against the door as he stopped just a few feet away from her.

"Or perhaps your mother, who is probably better off rotting underground than seeing the two failures she gave birth to. Oh, how embarrassed mommy would be to see her substance abusing son and suicidal daughter."

The match fell.

Feeling caged and enraged, everything went black for a moment. Valeria punched him hard in the face.

He stumbled back a few feet, bringing his hand to his now bleeding lip and chuckled. When he looked at her she felt herself deflate. All the venom was gone from his face.

She had been played.

"Attacking the head psychiatrist of Arkham. Well, I'd say that counts as a danger to society. Uncontrollable actions," he moved over and swiped his desk of papers, "violent rage." He turned to the chair she had been sitting in and kicked it. He then reached over and pressed the call button for the guards.

"Ms. Gray, I do hope you will enjoy your extended stay at Arkham."

#hannibal lecter #jonathan crane #scarecrow #arkham asylum #batman begins #the dark knight #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen #cillian murphy #hospital for souls

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