#AND EVEN THEN. even if we lived in a nightmare world where people had shit taste and found them ugly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugar-plum-writer · 3 months

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A Heian Era Affair

Paring: GojoSatrou!ModernEra x FemReader!HeianEra! Tags: Fem!Reader; Gojo!imagines; slight!mention of violence; 18+ as more chapters come; slow burn [I want to have a good build up~ just like my Sukuna series fic~]; An ancient Japan romance through time with reader Text: Gojo ends up in the Heian Era through unknown reason (will be reveled later on) and meets reader and hence journey begins both of adventure and romance~ [If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

CHAPTER - 1

The bamboo trees rustled as the cool wind blew, almost hauntingly as if carrying a message from another side of the world. Wiping your sweat with a ragged cloth, you stumbled and walked while carrying a bucket of water to your old wooden house.

It was hard to make a living, the minister of your area was evil, exploiting the people to death, and raising taxes beyond what people could pay. It was a nightmare- no worse at least you could wake up from nightmares but what about reality? can you wake up from it?

Sometimes you wanted to barge in and rip his head off. Too bad you could not, the guards were too strong, and with your strength you doubt you could ever survive.

Sighing, you returned to the river to fill your bucket again.

You had just bent over when a strong gust of wind started blowing out from nowhere, the trees shrieked as the water rippled- throwing you back 10 feet away with a slam- making you hit a tree. The sharp pain made your back go numb. As you tried to get up staggering- the wind kicked up a notch increasing it's speed and power like a cyclone. Your eyes widened in horror as you looked at what was happening- a big black hole appeared in the middle of the river; with water distorting around it and floating up defying gravity.

"What on-"

Before your brain could comprehend what just happened, a white-haired man flew out of the hole towards you, slamming into you-

Bang

Opening your eyes, you tried to get up, but- found the man on top of you, your legs intertwined together, he groaned as he tried to stand

"Ugh"

His voice was deep causing you to freeze a moment, but you came back to your senses and pushed him off

"Who are you!? You demon!" you screamed as you looked at him

"Me? Ah I am Gojo Satoru and no I am no demon, it's the first someone has called me a demon! sure I might be tall but it does not mean I am a demon haha~" he smiled as he looked at you helping you stand up

"What-!? but you j-"

"Do you know where this is? I am a bit in a hurry"

"This is Mizushima village…."

He paused

"What?…. since when did we have a Mizushima village in Japan? Isn't Mizushima an Island!? which prefecture even is this?"

"Prefecture? Our village is part of the Minamoto Clan on the West side"

He paused longer this time

"Minamoto Clan?…"

"Yeah"

"eh?" he froze as he cocked his head to the side

"For real?"

"Yeah"

"I….what-what era is this?" his voice trembled a bit

"This is the Heian Era…the year is 1185…" You looked at him as he stood grounded on the spot contemplating the meaning of his life

Now that you observed him, he was wearing weird clothing the fabric was also very different from what you had ever seen, it was so smooth and very different from cotton- almost otherworldly

"Is he a noble? from Heian-kyo?", you thought to yourself and backed away a bit

"I am…1000 years in the past oh shit"

"Shit? What does it mean? which part are you from? your Japanese is very weird" You looked at him even more confused, even his accent was weird and some words he used were different

"Ah…." he looked at you struggling to explain

"You see…I am from the future more than 1000 years from the future, I know it sounds absurd but..it is the truth" he looked at you seriously meaning every word he said

"Huh? What-what bullshit are you saying? Are you a psycho? possessed?" you looked at him bewildered

"What is bullshit?" he looked at you confused

"I-I am leaving; good day to you, to ask what bullshit means I- you should find a priest" Picking up your bucket you hurried away wondering why you always met weirdos

"Wait-!" he yelled but you turned deaf to his words and ran as fast as your feet allowed you to.

You ran as fast as you could but he appeared in front of you almost like magic

"Please listen to me! I am not lying!!" he grabbed you by the shoulders frantically

"I really am from the future!"

"You freak let go of me!! AHHHHH!" you punched him doing little to no damage and screaming

This continued for some time, you running and him teleporting wherever you were it went on for a few hours and soon both of you sat panting on the ground

"Man…you sure got some stamina.." he wiped the sweat off his forehead simultaneously removing the blindfold

You froze- his eyes- were breathtaking; looking into them your heart exploded like fireworks, so serene, it felt like you were looking at the sky itself. You had never seen such eyes ever

How can someone be this good-looking?

"What? too captive by my looks~ Ah I guess even in the Heian Era I am attractive~" he leaned in with a smirk causing you to look away blushing crimson

"Who would!? you demon! Get away!"

He pouted a bit disappointed

"H…How do I believe you are from the future? And your powers? What are you?"

"I am a sorcerer from the Gojo Clan and…as for how I am from the future…" he scratched his head

"Got it!"

He smirked and took out a weird looking box and opened it

"Here try some, I bet you have never eaten something like this! It is a cheesecake that too from a very famous shop"

With swift movement from his hands, he put the cake in your hands, its scent was sweet, it was jiggly- even a bit liquid-y making you wonder if it was poison

"You...you sure humans can eat this?" your hands trembled as you held the plate

"Yes, it is! here~" he took the fork in his hands and ate a small bite of the cake- grinning

"Ah it really is good~"

Seeing him eat it and look so elated you also wanted a bite- how bad could it be? with a gulp and sharp breath you took a bite- a bite so good it made your eyes light up-

The flavor was exploding in your mouth, it had a rich and creamy flavor with a slightly tangy and sweet taste. The texture was smooth and dense melting in your mouth it felt like heaven.

"It must be so expensive....even in death I doubt I could eat something like this.."

He paused for a moment but then a smile crept up his lips

"Eh it was nothing just enjoy~" he winked

"You should see your reaction~ now that's a nice expression! It makes me wonder what other reactions you can make if I gave you other things~" smirking he leaned in his breath inches away from yours

"So...Do you believe me now?"

"....Yeah" nodding you took another bite

"Yay! Thank you~ please look after me from now on~"

[Link to my master list~ enjoy!]

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arealphrooblem · 7 months

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A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find Part 3

Synopsis: Ben has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job

CW: blood mention, wound care

Part one here:

Ben’s job offered him a transfer to another bank in the city but he declined. Despite jumping every time the automatic doors opened, he figured lightning wouldn’t strike twice and Adam’s team wouldn’t target this bank a second time.

The next couple of weeks were almost unbearable.

That next morning Adam returned Ben’s phone with all the nonchalance as if he just merely updated it. Ben snooped around a bit but couldn’t see anything new in his apps. Of course, he wasn’t a programmer like Adam was. God only knew what spy-ware Adam put on his phone and he had no hope of getting rid of it.

To Adam’s credit, he tried valiantly to act as if nothing happened. He did dishes without complaint, always cleaned the bathroom to spotless perfection when it was his turn, sat in the living room with one of their favorite shows on or Mario Kart to tempt Ben into the living room.

But Ben did not know how to act. It wasn’t even that Adam had gotten himself involved with bad people who robbed banks and shot guns at innocent bank tellers like Ben. It was that Adam would threaten to kill him at a moment’s notice. That Adam felt comfortable and skilled with a knife at someone’s throat.

It felt like living with Jekyll and Hyde and he didn’t know when Other Adam, Knife Happy Adam, would leap out again. So Ben played the Normal Game for as long as he could stand it, which was approximately the length of dinner and maybe one youtube video before he disappeared back into his bedroom. Sometimes Adam would try to coax him out again with temptations such as running down the street for ice cream or renting a movie that just came to streaming, all things Ben would have loved to do Before and now which he declined.

Eventually Adam stopped asking. Eventually they both played the We Pretend We Don’t Have a Roommate Game. Adam disappeared from the living room, coming home late at night or sometimes into the next afternoon.

Ben avoided the news as much as possible because he didn’t want to know but he couldn’t help overhear what coworkers and customers talked about: bombed warehouses and robberies and a body or two in the streets.

Each time he heard something the guilt and fear of his secret burned up his throat like acid. It felt like it was stamped on his forehead, that anyone looking under the shaggy bangs he needed to trim would see it, spelled out to the world.

A month of this passed in slow agony. Ben missed the Before so much he dreamed about it, about the whole thing being some elaborate joke or nightmare and he could return to a life where his biggest problem was hiding his stupid gay crush on his roommate.

A month passed and then Adam didn’t come home for two days. Ben paced the living room for two nights, gnawing his nails down to stubs and wondering if he should put in a missing person’s report or if that would just make the whole situation worse.

And then Adam stumbled in at 1 in the morning, covered in blood.

“Holy shit,” Ben yelped.

Adam looked like a zombie extra in a movie, shuffling on wounded leg, blood splattered down his neck. It’d almost be funny if it wasn’t so heart-sickeningly real.

“I’m — I’m fine,” he mumbled, staggering to the shower.

Fine? Fine? Ben stood right in front of the shower door as the water ran, listening for the tell tale thump of a body falling. He didn’t hear that, but he did hear several pained grunts and hissed curses.

Did he need the hospital? Would he even let Ben take him to the hospital? Oh god, what if he died in the apartment? How the fuck was Ben supposed to explain that? How was he supposed to live with himself, ignoring his best friend the last month of his life instead of trying to — to —

The water shut off and the door wrenched open, steam billowing around Adam wrapped in a towel. The blood was gone save for scrapes and cuts that still wept.

“We still have that first aid kit, right?” he asked.

Like he scraped his knee playing basketball at the park.

“Yeah,” Ben said faintly.

“Cool.” He waited a moment and then cocked an eyebrow. “Are you . . .going to move? It fucking hurts to stand right now.”

That kick-started the panicked fog in his brain.

“Sorry! Shit. Okay. Just sit on the couch and I’ll get the — the —“

He didn’t bother finishing, zipping out to the kitchen, where he kept the kit stashed above the fridge. Thank God he kept it stocked, knowing how often he nicked himself cutting vegetables. Not that the stuff in here would help much if Adam needed stitches.

Adam leaned back on the couch, chest shuddering with his breathing, his mouth pinched in a tight, painful line. Ben perched himself on the edge of the coffee table and plucked out the pain killers first out of the kit. Adam dry swallowed them before Ben could offer water.

“Go to bed,” Adam said tersely. “You don’t need to see this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Ben. “You’re hurt really bad. Maybe we should go to the —“

“Don’t. Don’t you dare even suggest that.”

“What if you die?”

Adam snorted. “I’m not going to die. Just get me a warm wet washcloth and pass me the antibiotic cream.”

Happy to have something small and manageable to do, Ben immediately complied. He picked the softest, most worn out washcloth they had and soaked it in warm water. When he returned, Adam was already dabbing at a scrap on his knee with rubbing alcohol and hissing. He took the proffered washcloth with barely a glance at Ben, using it to rub away the excess blood that had started to leak from a gash on his side.

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“You don’t want to know. I just . . .wasn’t fast enough this time.”

“This time?”

Adam gave him a flat look, as if to say Quit asking, I’m not telling you shit.

“You don’t have to stay up, Ben. Really. I can take care of this. I’ve done it many times before.”

That’s not reassuring Ben thought. It was heartbreaking.

“I can help,” he said.

“I don’t want you to help.”

“Too bad.”

Feeling daring, he took a cotton ball and smeared the cream on it before dabbing it onto a scrape on the back of Adam’s forearm. To his surprise, Adam allowed it, propping his arm on his knee and watching been with those keen eyes.

This was not the time to pop a timid, curious boner but dear Jesus.

Whatever Adam had been doing the last several months had whittled his body away into a lean, muscular machine, so much of it on display dressed in just a towel. He had to lean in , smelling Adam’s body wash and the sharp scene of the alcohol, getting close enough to see the light constellation of scars on Adam’s chest and arms.

It all felt strangely intimate, the only light coming from the dim glow of the living room lamp. Their breathing the only sound in the room.

Once he was done with the arm, he taped gauze to it and wrapped it. Adam held perfectly still, his gaze a heavy weight that Ben could not hold. When Ben finished and started to pull (reluctantly) away, Adam’s hand darted out and gripped his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Ben chanced a glance at Adam and flinched at the intensity he saw.

“Don’t,” he said, swallowing. He took the hope in his chest and crushed it. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for. You just . . . want to manipulate me into liking you again.”

“I know what I did. It was wrong. You didn’t deserve it.”

“And yet you still did it. You didn’t even think first.”

“I was afraid.”

Now Ben gave him a flat stare of disbelief. “You? Afraid of me?”

The fucking audacity when Adam put a knife to his throat.

“You were never supposed to find out. I didn’t plan on it. I didn’t know how to react.”

“You have a plan for everything.”

“I never know what I’m doing when it comes to you,” Adam said softly.

Ben froze, his mind drawing conclusions he didn’t dare to dwell on. “What does that mean?”

Adam went silent. The bright intensity of his emotions shuttered off in his eyes, like a shade being drawn.

“I was bluffing,” he said, voice calm and even. “I don’t need a knife to hurt you. But the threat should have been a last resort and I’m sorry. It was a knee jerk reaction and you didn’t deserve it. You’ve been nothing but a loyal friend and good roommate.”

Disappointment — stupid disappointment that came from a hope he should have never fostered, not even for a second — tugged down like a lead balloon in his chest.

“Good roommates are hard to find,” he added softly.

Adam’s mouth curled up in a wistful smile. “Exactly.”

Ben tried to pull his hand away again, but Adam didn’t let go.

“Ben,” he said softly, squeezing Ben’s wrist until he looked up. “It will never happen again, okay? You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.”

“Okay,” Ben said, nodding.

Later that night, as he tumbled into bed sometime past two in the morning, he could hear Adam’s voice echoing in his head.

I don’t need a knife to hurt you

God, how true that was, in ways Adam would never know.

Taglist: @itsmyworld23

Part 4 Here

#a good roommate is hard to find #my writing #hero x villain #villain x civilian #original work #writeblr #enemies to lovers

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bettyfrommars · 8 months

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The Nightmare Factory: Origins

nightmare!eddie x Reader

Masterlist

a little peek into how Eddie got the job

Sigh, yet another blurb that turned into 2k. There is mention of Reader in this, but no actual interaction. We get to meet the notorious Kevin and get a glimpse at the inside of the building where nightmare!eddie works, as well as run into a few of his future co-workers. I love those of you who have shown interest in this; let me know if there are certain things/events you'd like to see. wc: 2.2k

18+ONLY, mature themes, horror, nothing bad happens but there will be mention of gore and scary things. Nightmare!eddie, Gareth, a ventriloquist doll, liminal spaces, mention of spiders and creepy dolls. A severed foot. I write these like a fever dream and then post them, so I hope it makes a decent amount of sense.

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When Wayne told Eddie that there were positions open at the Nightmare Factory, it just so happened that he was tired of slaving over a grill every day and ready for something new. But he wasn't interested in working at a desk or on the janitorial team—he wanted to travel and scare the shit out of a few people.

From the trailer park, he could see the tall stacks in the distance, jutting up into the sky, pumping out industrial black smoke from somewhere inside the factory. He never realized how much elbow grease went into producing nightmares.

The Nightmare Factory had not always been there. One day, it just appeared, as it was prone to do in various locations all over the world. Months ago, he was having a smoke out behind the diner where he worked the kitchen, when a creepy doll head fell from the sky and bounced to the ground. It rolled to the edge of the nearby dumpster and wedged there.

He yelled for Gareth to come out so he could tell him what just happened.

“It’s raining heads,” Eddie blew a raspberry laugh after he said it, and the two of them bent to get a closer look.

The plastic doll head had long, patchy, auburn hair that fell over its face, and it was missing a glass eyeball. Eddie picked it up and stood to full height, turning it around to give it a look. A thick, slimy centipede slithered out of the empty eye socket and crawled over Eddie’s finger, making him yelp and throw the thing.

He shook his hand out, making sure the centipede was not still on him. Not too far away on the pavement, the head now looked molded and rotten, as if it had been made of living tissue.

“It’s that fucking Nightmare Factory, I’m telling you,” Gareth insisted, wiping his hands on his apron. “It just showed up a couple days ago, and yesterday I saw a frog walking on its hind legs with a mouth full of vampire teeth.”

Eddie licked his lips, thoughtfully.

Soon enough, he was driving to the factory in question with his resume next to him in the seat, wearing the nicest shirt and pair of jeans he owned, and he even had his hair tied back—at Wayne’s urging. “You’re not a drug dealer anymore, son, you need to look presentable.”

Upon arrival, an ornate, iron gate opened at the entrance, and he followed in what appeared to have once been a car. The metal was dented all over like a piece of balled-up paper, and the blue paint chipped in areas to expose the dull yellow underneath. The passenger window was nothing but saran wrap secured with duct tape, and there were a few aluminum cans tied to the bumper with string. The cans were pock-marked and rusted, and the vehicle drove at a tilt as if the tires on one side were too small.

On the back window, there was white writing, scrawled as if with a non-dominant hand. Eddie squinted at the lettering, saying it out loud as he read: JUST DEAD.

He parked the van in front of one of the visitor placards right next to a wood-paneled station wagon.

On the outside, the factory looked like an old, abandoned steel mill you might see from the freeway as you passed, but inside—it offered the aesthetic of a pristine, marble floor museum. A museum without any artifacts or art—just bare, cream walls, one long hallway of doors, low, fluorescent lighting, a reception desk, and a pair of mysterious double doors to the right.

Eddie’s footsteps echoed in the empty hall as he made his way over to the reception desk.

The secretary was bent over behind the desk, possibly jotting down a note, when Eddie cleared his throat to get her attention. She had on a light blue, pillbox hat from the 60’s with a matching suit, and wore her hair in a short, platinum blonde bob.

When she looked up at him, he realized her face was made of fiberglass—her pink lips and wide, a tiny, sharp nose, and blue eyes frozen in time. There was a lightning-shaped crack down her cheek that feathered out down her neck, and he realized then, with one glance down at her stiff hands, that she was a broken mannequin.

“Do you have an appointment?” She asked without moving her mouth; lips slightly parted and turned up at one corner.

“Um, yeah, no,” Eddie stammered, taken aback when a few small spiders crawled out of the crack on her face. “I’m here about the job opening.”

“Ah, well then you’ll need to meet with Kevin,” she confirmed, running her beige, plastic hand down some scribbles on a big appointment book. “He is the only door on the 3rd floor. I’ll let him know you are on your way.”

“Oh great, thanks,” Eddie moved his hand to flash her the devil horns, but then he realized that might not be appropriate, faltered a bit, and then chose a thumbs up instead. “I like that color blue on you, it matches your eyes.”

The receptionist couldn’t blush, but she did give a high-pitched giggle at the compliment.

There were two sets of elevator doors, and while he waited in front of one for it to open, the one next to it dinged, and a group of tall, thin men in black coats with no faces and hooks for hands stepped out. They seemed to glide on the air more than walk, and he wondered if they had any feet. One gave a wave of his hook to Eddie and mumbled, “morning,” as they moved to enter one of the doors across the way.

The hallway to Kevin’s office had a clear, aquarium floor with colorful fish fluttering around in Eddie’s path, and he stopped to admire them for a minute as a smile stretched around his face. There was mellow jazz playing from a speaker somewhere overhead it reminded him of the waiting room at the dentist office. It wasn’t long before a severed foot that looked like it had been sawed or bitten off at the ankle floated through the aquarium beneath him, and Eddie’s smile dropped. The toe was nearly bitten off by little fish nibbles.

“This fucking place,” he whispered to himself, one fist in the pocket of his leather jacket, as he took note of the portrait painting on the wall from the early 1900’s of a woman in a dress sitting in a chair, and it looked like her eyes had been cut out, offering two perfect ovals for another pair of eyes to peep out.

The door to Kevin’s office was open, so Eddie rapped his knuckle on the wall and stuck his head in. “Hello? Kevin? I’m here about the job?”

When he didn’t get a response, he pushed in a bit further, with caution.

The inside looked like the library of some distinguished gentleman; a big oak desk backed by floor to ceiling rows of books; a globe on a brass stand; oil paintings with ornate frames; a cigar smoldering in a glass ashtray near the cream-colored phone with the blinking red light on it.

Eddie made one last attempt: “Hello?”

“I’m right here, you knob,” a tiny, irritated voice said.

Eddie turned to follow the sound, and the chair behind the desk spun around to reveal what appeared to be a ventriloquist doll in a blue and white sailor suit, sitting atop a few thick encyclopedias so that he could reach the top of the desk. It had a big, abnormal grin on its face that hinged at the chin, and eyebrows too high on the head, as if he were eternally shocked, framed in a swirl of brown, plastic hair.

“That's me. I am Kevin. Go ahead, sit,” the doll extended his arm, motioning to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. They were both small, plastic chairs meant for children, and Eddie eyed them with trepidation. Before he could sit, he had to move a thick book titled “Ruling the World for Dummies” and set it on the desk. His hips barely fit as he shoved down into the seat, angling his head all the way back to look up at Kevin.

He slid his resume forward on the wood as if he were a middle school kid handing in his homework.

Kevin hopped from the stack of books onto the desk in his shiny black shoes and looked over the piece of paper—his featureless fingers flexing.

“A mechanic and a line cook,” Kevin’s eyes clicked as he looked at the typed out words, and then found Eddie’s eager gaze over the top of the page. “So, no nightmare experience?”

Eddie’s brain scurried for the correct answer. “Well, not professionally, no. But I’m a quick study, and my life is kind of one big nightmare, if you know what I mean,” he rubbed his sweaty palms up and down on the knees of his jeans while Kevin returned a blank—albeit perpetually alarmed—expression.

“Can you work weekends?”

“Yes.”

“Evenings?”

“Sure. Well, except some Fridays and Tuesdays. My band, we—”

“What about portals? Do you experience motion sickness during interdimensional travel?” Kevin interrupted.

“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.” Eddie moved his eyes around the room, keeping his head still.

“Are you willing to sign an NDA in regards to this facility, and any activities that take place herein?”

Eddie considered that for a second, wondering how strictly they enforced the non-disclosure agreement. At the end of the day, he really didn’t talk to many people, but it was hard for him to keep his mouth shut around those he did interact with.

“Sure,” Eddie shrugged.

“Great. Swell.” Kevin dropped the resume, letting it slip off the desk and flutter to the ground without a second thought. He bent down to pick up the cigar that was still smoldering and stuffed the fat end in between his grinning lips. The smoke he inhaled came out his ears. “You’re hired. Benefits start after 30 days. Come back tomorrow around the same time and someone will give you a tour and set you up with a locker.”

Eddie moved to stand up and thank him, but his ass was stuck in the chair, so he sat back down for the time being.

“Do you know what type of nightmares you want to specialize in?” Kevin asked.

Eddie hadn’t considered any of that. “Um, what are my options?”

Kevin rolled his eyes and put his cigar back down. “Do you even have any idea what we do here?”

“I’ll be honest, man,” Eddie raised an eyebrow, offering a bit of a smirk. “I'm just looking for a paycheck. But I’m a hard worker, I’ll take anything you throw at me.”

What Kevin didn’t tell him was that Eddie was the only applicant they’d had all week. Work conditions were rather dismal at the factory as of late, and the turn-over rate was astronomical; there were Nightmare Scholars with several degrees still slumming it as closet monsters and ghosts that tapped on windows pretending to be a branch.

But, Eddie was fine with it. He wasn’t interested in a career in nightmares—his music was all that mattered to him back then.

Back before your nightmares were all he cared about.

“At the end of the hall on the first floor, there’s a bulletin board with the positions that are available. You’ll need to pick one, and then Walter will get you enrolled in whatever classes you need.”

“Walter?” Eddie asked, looking around, as if the Walter in question might appear at any second from out of the bookshelf.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow,” Kevin’s head turned to the side, but his body stayed facing forward. “He’s a swamp monster; big guy. He’s in charge of all the new trainees. Man’s got a particular foul odor about him, but damn his wife is a great cook.”

Eddie’s wallet chain clinked against the plastic chair as he forced it off his hips like popping out a cork, and he thanked Kevin with a wave.

Little did he know then what a pain in his ass Kevin would be.

Little did he know that, some 2 years later, he’d be so dedicated to the work that they’d be offering him a promotion.

They offered to put him in a training position, or behind a desk sorting dream journal entries, but he had no interest in such things. They could keep their promotions.

He needed to stay on the ground, in the trenches.

Until he could find a way out of your dreams and into your arms. --------

This is dedicated to my darling Kiya and their generous donation to my Kofi...it meant the world to me 🧡🧡

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#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #The nightmare factory #nightmare!eddie #Eddie munson series #spooky season fic #eddie munson fluff

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whiteladyofithilien · 3 months

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Legolas' Cave Trauma

So it occurred to me that it seemed a bit weird that Legolas, who arguably has spent hundreds of years in a freaking cave palace, would be as anti-cave as he is in the books when Gimli goes off about the wonder of the Glittering Caves in Helm's Deep. So I had to reconcile these two facts. I consulted with the council of Elrond (aka my Tolkien friends) and one of them was like "just cause he lived in the caves doesn't mean he liked it. Thranduil had made the cave palace as a stronghold against the evils of the world outside his realm" while my thoughts was just "Legolas has cave trauma after Moria".

Because as we all know Legolas absolutely loses his shit when he sees the Balrog, like full on screaming Elvish meltdown.

So I combined the two theories to run along this line... Legolas was never a fan of caves, growing up on stories of the evil things that dwelt under the mountains he probably was not a huge fan when that's where his dad decided to repair to as the world grew more perilous. I picture little Leggy being especially scared of the Balrogs in stories told to him as a child. We gotta remember Balrogs are an extremely ancient and distant myth for even a lot of the elves, especially the "less wise" elves of Thranduil's folk. Most peoples are convinced that the last of the Balrogs perished in the War of Wrath, heck even people like Elrond may think this. So for Legolas this is his childhood monster under the bed, the Elvish Boogeyman. Balrogs shouldn't exist. They're just a scary story you tell kids to make them behave or to exemplify the valor of the elves of old who slew them. Some legends may say that some survived in deep places of the world but no one believes them any more, except maybe for little elven princelings but they grow up and grow out of it and after hundreds of years living in their dad's cave palace they're just an embarrassing memory of childhood fears.

But then Moria happens and it's his nightmares coming and standing before him more terrifying than he even imagined as a child and then striking down the most powerful being he's ever known. And it's just terrorizing and traumatizing and while the time in Lorien helps to settle his nerves he's none too eager to ever step foot underground again.

Especially to unknown caves.

Especially to a place underground that Gimli is a excited about.

The last time this happened he saw the terror of tales of long ago come to living reality in front of his eyes.

This may even be part of the reason why Legolas won't repeat the laments for Gandalf. "The grief is too near" and so is the terror. He doesn't wanna think about his living nightmare again, especially so soon. Of course he heals somewhat from his Cave Trauma and his friendship with Gimli helps I'm sure, after all they probably talked about it while they were hanging in Lorien becoming besties. And in turn seeing Legolas willingly go underground to take the Paths of the Dead encourages him to follow. He's just seen his bestie face his fears and now he must do the same.

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ovaryacted · 1 month

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Ok ok ok, so…hear me out. (TW: death, and suicide at the end)

Let’s just say Leon’s kids (maybe they’re a teen at this point) ends up captured by some evil bioweapon lab. The ransom note is essentially ‘leave us alone to do our science or we kill your kid’

I can see this playing out two ways.

The first, Leon tears apart the world. He sees red and essentially blacks out until he’s reunited with his child/ren. He’s awake for the entire time it takes to find them. The only time he actually ‘rests’ is when his body physically crashes and passes out. Even then, he gets nightmares. What if they’re too late and his kid/s become twisted creatures? What if they’re already dead? What if he has to put a bullet in his own precious baby because they were reduced to a shambling zombie, just like RC?

He wakes up screaming. Crying. Sobbing.

Even if he gets to them in time, they’re undoubtedly traumatized. They won’t be child/Ren anymore. They would have been exposed to how fucked the world really is. He starts thinking he’s a failure. He’s failed to protect his kid/s. The ones he loved the most in the world have had their innocence ripped away.

But damnit, when he finds them, you bet your ass he’s not letting them go. He hugs them tightly. Almost too tightly. Leon starts sobbing. They’re unharmed. Untouched by evil science.

When it comes to the escape, he holds their hand. It doesn’t matter how old they are, he’s going to hold onto SOMETHING. They aren’t coming out of his sight ever again. Not after this.

Second scenario, Leon IS too late.

He sees what USED to be his kid/s. If he stared hard enough he could see them, under the shambling, the growling. They were still in there somewhere.

But he was too late. Even if they could get a cure, the damage was done. His child/ren were gone.

The world goes quiet for Leon. His only focus would be on them. All he could hear is his own heartbeat. After he ends their pain, I don’t think he’d go home.

The official report be KIA, but anyone else who was on the mission would know the truth. Leon didn’t want to live without his kid/s.

BUT THEN ITS ALL A NIGHTMARE BECAUSE I MADE MYSELF SAD TYPING THIS AHHHH IM SORRY

cw: religious imagery, mentions of gore and violence, suicide attempt

Hey, angsty anon, I know you remember sending this to me when I was at work and it fucking upset me but I said I would make it worse...well I'm making it a tad bit worse by adding my thoughts to this. Apologies in advance, and of course if you don't want to read some sad shit, don't read it. (I was half asleep writing this so my bad lolz)

I think Leon's family becoming involved in the horrors of bioterrorism, the very thing he's trying so hard to protect his loved ones from, is one of his biggest fears. In this field, he's seen people he cared about, good people, who were abandoned by those meant to protect them and had to alter their bodies to try to feel control. Although Leon does everything to ensure his family is protected, he still falls short when his child gets taken away by an enemy and is used as collateral.

The entire aspect of finally being able to have a life gets to Leon. To have a chance to settle down and have a family of his own which is now being threatened, turns Leon into this vindictive monster just motivated by revenge. On prior missions, he's usually calculated and knows what to do, where to go, and what to bring. But now that his child is involved, his own flesh and blood, yeah he blacks out for most of the mission and is going off of instinct.

He doesn't give his partner much of an explanation when he just says he's going to leave and that he knows he's going to bring his family back together. He can't promise anything, can't promise if he'll come back in one piece or at all, but he will bring his child back home. If being a federal agent working in bioterrorism has taught him anything, is that not everyone comes back. Sometimes he just gets lucky and the cycle repeats.

Leon does not sleep, does not eat, and much less gives a shit about his own safety and health. As far as he knows, he's on a witch hunt to kill the bastard that threatened his family and his happiness. The entire time he's trying to get his child back, his mind goes back to the horrors of all of his missions. He thinks back to the fear he felt in trying to save Sherry, he remembers the way his mind went all hazy on his mission to Spain and saved the president's daughter.

It's all the same. But it has to be different right?

He doesn't consider himself to be a religious person, he used to be back in his youth. But as this rogue mission goes on longer and longer and he spends more time without his child, he starts to silently pray that they're alive, that they haven't been ruined like everything else in this rotten world.

Let's say he does find his kid in one piece, scared and traumatized, probably tucked into a corner in a dingy cell in some run down lab. Leon wrapped his arms around them, apologizing over and over again, looking for forgiveness, and blaming himself for putting his child in danger simply because of the life he was forced to live.

He does get back home in one piece with his child in his arms and eliminates any other possible and future threats so he never has to worry about that again. The people who even think about hurting his family will regret ever doing so. As long as his child is safe and back at home, he thinks he's achieved the impossible and is protecting all that he holds dear.

But let's go on the opposite end of the spectrum. What will happen if Leon doesn't get there in time? If he finds his child turned into some monster as revenge? It would tear him apart, and he will consider this to be his karma for even wanting a better life for himself, a life he doesn't deserve. The person or thing in front of Leon wasn't his child anymore, it was a mess of torn-up limbs and cut skin, and he couldn't feel his child's presence anymore.

His soul is empty as he raises his gun to shoot towards the monster, putting them out of their misery, and the last bit of humanity Leon has left goes with the dead body hitting the ground. He still has a mission to complete, a society to protect, so he focuses on that and refuses to give himself a moment of grieve.

Later he says, I have time later.

He's detached from his reality throughout the remaining time he gives himself to finish off this mission, his last mission. When all the threats are eliminated, he walks around aimlessly, his spirit has run dry and he knows the gaping hole in his chest is too much of a burden to handle. He doesn't cry, he's done enough crying in his life and frankly, he doesn't have any more tears to give.

I've failed. I've failed you. I'm sorry.

The words repeat in his head and he pretends his significant other somehow gets the message that he's not coming back home. He wonders if God will come to save him from this blasphemy, but this is the price he had to pay for having too much blood on his hands, blood he did not want to have.

His hand is steady as he puts the gun to his temple, finger on the trigger and he hears it click, nothingness comes right after. He doesn't feel pain, doesn't feel much of anything, and surprisingly he feels calm...at peace.

Things can't be different. Not this time.

#ovaryacted asks #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil drabble #resident evil imagines #resident evil angst #₊˚⊹ ♡ ─ angsty anon

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omglisalithium · 1 year

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I've noticed that Omega has been getting a lot of hate in TBB fandom after s2e9 was released. My own partner even stated "ugh Omega's such a twat" during his watch of the episode. As someone who's seen season 1 over 50 times and every episode of season 2 at least twice, I want to just remind everyone of a few things:

1. Omega was raised on Kamino as a medical assistant. We have to assume she's seen some shit just from that.

2. She left Kamino (her home) and Nala Se (the closest thing she's had to a parental figure) behind.

3. She lost her brother (Crosshair) to the Empire.

4. She literally had no idea what fun was or how to have it until s1e2 when she met Cut and Suu's kids. This is something she still seems to struggle with as we see in s2e2 when Romar has to explain to her that what he gave her is a toy and that it makes people happy.

5. She has killed. I don't have an official body count but she kills quite a few people during the series. Why the Batch haven't given her a blaster set to stun is beyond me. Sure, the bow is cool but it's fatal because it always uses live rounds.

6. Bounty hunters were after her and she almost got taken once in s1e4 and then actually taken in s1e8. The show doesn't touch on it, but I bet she thought Cad Bane had killed Hunter and she had no way of knowing for sure until she heard his voice on her comm.

7. She saw Wrecker almost kill the Batch and Rex and then almost her. She knew it was the chip but still, shit like that leaves a mark.

8. She was in Tipoca City as it was being bombarded, almost lost Crosshair to drowning, and almost drowned herself while trying to save the last piece she had of her past (AZI)

9. She watched Crosshair willingly leave again, right after she lost Tipoca City forever.

10. She has almost died too many times to count. I still remember watching the scene in s2e1 where she, Tech, and Echo are falling with the container and there's a zoom on her eyes as she screams and I just thought "she's going to have nightmares and flashbacks from this, she's going to break this season."

11. She was brought along to see the mystery clone's body in s2e8. I literally went "What the fuck are you all doing?! Don't show her the dead body!" while watching it. Echo had the most sense in that scene when he tried to gently move her away. The look that she was giving in the scene was heartbreaking.

12. Echo left the team.

13. She lost her home (the Marauder) again. And the show doesn't touch on this but she lost Gonky too.

14. She is a LITERAL CHILD. If she is aging normally, her brain is not developed enough to really process all these traumatic events in a healthy way.

Let me know if I missed anything but yeah that's most of it. Some of these things would make even the most calm and mature adult go insane, let alone a child. Her entire world, everything she has ever known has fallen apart since the Empire took over. She keeps losing more and more things and we have to remember that. Imagine going through all of that and then hearing "what is your issue?" That would be the last straw for you too.

#star wars #the bad batch

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poindexters-labratory · 5 months

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Talk about your version of William or I will spill hallucinogenic nightmare gas all over your blog =3

OKAY, FINE, YOU FORCED MY HAND

...heheheheh. >:3

Hurricane William Afton Lore Dump Part One

!!CW Warning!!: mentions of abuse, religious trauma, religious OCD, alcohol abuse, underage drinking and drug use, and addiction

William Anise Afton was born October 10, 1947 in a wooded area of Reading, a borough in Berkshire, England, to a shit awful family. This family consisted of his father (Edward), mother (Grace), and four older siblings (two older brothers and two older sisters), making William the baby of the family. The way they were shit awful, I'm not going to get into.

He went to Catholic school until he was twelve and developed a pretty big obsession with death during primary school because of a belief that what was happening to him with his family was his fault, making him guilty of sin, therefore condemning him to Hell at the age of nine. This resulted in obsessive thoughts that had him believe that everywhere he went, he was in mortal danger and had to prepare himself to die. He was petrified of dying because he always believed he was just meant to go to Hell and be tortured even before he got older.

Psychology bit: OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) can be a wide range of obsessive thoughts combatted with a wide range of compulsive behavior. In William's case, he has obsessional intrusive thoughts about death and Hell, which leads him to stay away from situations where he could die and be tortured for eternity, which is the compulsion. He avoided streets, stairs, heights, etc. the best he could for a long time.

When he was twelve, his father took him away after he discovered the at-home circumstances were horrible for the youngest member of the family. William then moved to London with his father, and they lived in the place where Edward worked, which was a mechanic shop he supervised for the owner of a small company.

Edward Afton had always been cold and old-fashioned, he was a veteran of the second World War, Irish, and very smart. He was also a mean bastard, an alcoholic, and emotionally unavailable for his traumatized son that he called Billy (even though that was nowhere near William's name, no matter how many times he was told it was a nickname). Not to mention that William confused him, and Edward didn't like things he couldn't understand.

William had always been... different. He was a shy and quiet boy, nose always in a book, (Will's favorites being Alice in Wonderland, The Velveteen Rabbit, The Wind in the Willows, and whatever books he could find with fantastical animals involved), had stereotypically feminine interests and habits compared to his older brothers when they were growing up, and had an odd obsession with rabbits.

Edward tried for a few years to "fix" him, to make Will "more like a boy". This included getting him involved in fixing cars, which William took to quickly, and bullying him out of his habits. Seemingly.

At this point in time, William was feeling a lot of shame for his lack of masculinity, self-conscious about his appearance, teenage hormones going haywire as he wasn't developing to fit the description of what people said a man should look like, and his father seemingly hating him more every day. This drew him to a group of boys that roamed the streets of London around his father's workplace. They were tough, toxically masculine, everything William thought he was missing.

This is where we mention William has always been charming and charismatic. He's learned it from the books he's read, movies he's seen, and stories he's heard. It's how he got money, food, books, and short-term relationships out of people whenever he wanted/needed it. The people he's charmed generally liked him, even though he was a stupid kid. At fourteen, he joined the rocker group that roamed around where he lived.

For a few years, to the age of seventeen, he ran around with them, dressed like them, did what they did, and became increasingly loud, impulsive, spiteful, incredibly violent, very tall, developed his father's drinking problem, and a drug addiction (that he kept secret). He dropped out of secondary school and had no plans other than someday soon he'd curl up into a ball and die somewhere. He didn't really care if he died at that point in time, William was too exhausted to care, and he lost his belief in a god and an afterlife. All of that shit he heard in primary school was just a scary story.

Then he met Henry in spring of 1964. Henry Emily was a twenty-year-old American student attending one of the universities for an engineering degree. He was working in that mechanic shop, the same one his father supervised; a trade offer given to him by the owner who knew Henry's father when they both served in World War II. The trade was this owner would pay for Henry's schooling while Henry (who was a mechanical genius apparently) would work in this shop.

History Bit: The 1960s was regarded as the "counterculture decade" in America, and in England, "The Swinging Sixties". There were massive differences between the two countries' views on the changing world and the changing cultures between them. One of the biggest things that caused this culture shift was widespread television access, giving the younger generation access to the world around them. American society was also thrown into the Vietnam War with the draft being set in place in 1966. There were many American movements in the decade, such as civil rights, anti-war, and gay rights, all seen as a direct attack on the "American way of life". England didn't have much involvement in the Vietnam War, the new generation was trying to move past the post-war era their parents came from. This will become relevant later.

William and Henry met on the circumstances that Will was trying to steal some of his stuff. From all Will's rummaging around in his stuff, he discovered some drawings of Fredbear (at this point, just known as Fred). This seemed to snap William out of this stupor he'd been in because he also had an animal character he'd draw. A golden yellow rabbit with purple eyes, that wore a little bow and waistcoat. He just called it Bunny (generating names wasn't his strong suit).

William couldn't pass up on the opportunity to meet someone that actually liked the same things as him. So, they talked. And then talked some more. And then spent the entire day together. And then they became best friends. Henry was reserved, calm, and headstrong, able to balance out William's high energy and impulsive nature.

The two of them could talk for hours on end about their animal characters (autistic people at their finest), pretty soon associating them with the other. Animatronics just started as a joke, both of them having an appreciation for Walt Disney and his Audio-Animatronics. Then it kind of stopped being a joke when Henry started brainstorming ideas for how a giant singing bear might actually work.

History Bit: Walt Disney coined the term "Audio-Animatronic" in 1961, the first of their kind being Disney's "Enchanted Tiki Birds" debuting in the Disneyland Resort, June 23, 1963.

Throughout the year, they became closer, and William started to feel more and more like a person living a life instead of going through the motions to survive. His mental health started to get better and he was slowly starting to express himself in the ways that he wanted to. He broke away from the rocker subculture and gained some social independence, doing what he really enjoyed doing, which was talking to Henry about Fred and Bonnie (Bunny renamed), reading on everything to help them on their journey to making a giant animatronic, drawing the two characters together, being Henry's best friend, and he was very happy.

Henry invited William to come back to his hometown in Utah (which William had never even heard of) and their goal became getting him across the Atlantic, slowly working off of his addictions and dependences. They were talking about owning a restaurant now with Fred and Bonnie as entertainment, everything was going to be perfect. But then there was a wrench in that plan.

William got mixed up with an upper-class girl slightly older than him, nineteen-year-old Claire-Marie Schmidt. He got her pregnant and neither of them wanted to abort the pregnancy and William didn't want to leave her to deal with this by herself because this was his fault, so Claire hung around to the displeasure of Henry.

Henry is just like William in a lot of ways. First of all, he gets jealous easily and second of all, he's lonely. All of William's attention seemed to get taken away by Claire and this unborn baby, and he felt abandoned. Not to mention that William and this girl had to get married per traditional values of Claire's father which they both respected. The baby was due in July and Henry was graduating in May, leaving soon after that. William could only pick one or the other. And he chose his wife. It was a painful and bitter goodbye at the airport, and William had to watch his one friend leave, not sure if he'd ever see or hear from him again.

He saw him again after about three minutes.

Henry cancelled his flight last second because he couldn't make a huge mistake like this. They made plans for all three of them to fly to Utah and that summer they did.

As soon as Claire got to close her eyes in the bed within the Emily ranch house, the contractions started, and Michael John Edward Afton was born a few weeks early in that room. When William laid eyes on Michael for the first time, something changed. Nothing else mattered more than who was in his arms right now, he loved nothing more. Of course, William got huffy when they had to give Michael back to Claire.

William and Claire had an interesting relationship. They didn't love each other like a married couple would, they were very good friends if anything. They confided in each other, told each other their problems, but William was a gay man and Claire knew this, and had no issue with it. They loved each other as good friends, they weren't romantically or sexually inclined to the other, so they formed an agreement that she could do what she wanted, and he could do what he wanted. And it worked for a while.

Part 2 ->

#fnaf #william afton #claire afton #fnaf hurricane #michael afton #henry emily #i really like history #rabbits #fursona art

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genderqueerpositivity · 10 months

Text

The competing thoughts in my head right now:

1) Imagine what sort of cases are going to make it before SCOTUS to decide by June of next year. Settled law means fuck all at this point. There is no limit to what they might do next, and conservatives are going to be even more eager to get cases that could go in their favor before the court.

They didn't stop at Roe, they won't stop at ending affirmative action, and they won't stop at legalizing anti-queer discrimination. I'm betting my money right now, that by this time next year, at least one of the legal challenges currently being fought against trans healthcare will reach SCOTUS.

2) Less than 7 years ago, one of the most potentially qualified women in American history lost the presidency in spite of having won the popular vote to a man who is easily the least qualified crook to have ever held the office in American history.

Just imagine if we were living in a different timeline where President Hillary Clinton had used her power to appoint three liberal (or at the very least, moderate) Supreme Court Justices. The entire trajectory of this country would currently be different. Abortion rights, affirmative action, and LGBTQ+ rights would've been safe for another generation. But her emails. Elections have consequences. And our electoral system is flawed.

3) The Constitution needs to either be rewritten or drastically amended; the major problem with this is that our current leadership cannot be trusted to do so. It's extremely clear that "we the people" still only means white Christian men.

I'm not actually certain that the United States should exist as a single country anymore...I just find it hard to imagine any alternative. This country truly feels like 50 individual countries badly pretending to be 1...but no longer having even the minimal protections provided by the Constitution would be a nightmare for minorites in red states. And a lot of people would be trapped by that, just as they already are: unable to leave due to finances or disability, or unwilling to leave their family, culture, or history behind.

Either way, abolish the electoral college, and implement term limits for SCOTUS Justices, and I think that the length of no more than 16 years or four presidential terms (as most presidents serve two four year terms) is adequate.

4) This means resistance. And I'm trying to figure out what that looks like. I've mostly been doing this by looking at the past and seeing how my queer and trans predecessors fought back, because none of this shit is new. But this also calls for the question: what else can we do? Are there new ways that we can resist? How do we build a future in a world that looks more like the past everyday?

#politics #us politics #op #not a positivity post

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memestockpile · 4 months

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the holdovers (2023) feel free to change as needed.

these are for you.

they're your mother's panties. tell her thanks for the good times!

you stole my fucking cigarettes.

i resent that baseless accusation.

cut the shit.

i don't indulge in pornography. i get enough of the real thing.

this shit's premium weed, all right?

i can't believe you got out of it.

we don't talk about those things.

there's a nice little bonus in it for you.

that boy is too dumb to pour piss out of a boot.

at least pretend to be a human being.

are you fucking kidding me?

tone it down. jesus can hear you.

you know how lonely i've been.

fresh air will do you good.

adversity builds character.

this is the most bullshit ever.

don't be such a pussy.

civil disobedience, man.

your mind's a cesspool and a shallow one at that.

rich and dumb. popular combination around here.

you homesick?

that's why you grind everybody. deep down, you know you're an asshole.

life is like a henhouse ladder: shitty and short.

you don't know the newlywed game? what planet have you been living on?

everybody should be with their people on christmas.

sharp kid. insightful.

that's what you get for ratting me out!

i had a nightmare.

friends are overrated.

this is not exactly a face forged for romance.

i like being alone. i've always found myself drawn to the aesthetic.

if you could go anywhere on earth, where would you go?

you can't even dream a whole dream, can you?

it is absolutely my business. i'm looking after you.

i don't know what you're playing at, but you are courting disaster!

without exercise, the body devours itself.

you said you washed your hands of me.

i meant it metaphorically.

you're gonna get me fired.

the good news is nothing's broken, but you did dislocate your shoulder pretty badly.

this all remains entre nous.

do not try to leverage me.

they've got miller high life. the champagne of beers.

listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.

thanks for fucking up my mojo.

hey, sport, my eyes are up here.

you smell. like fish.

you're out of your mind.

okay, maybe it's fine for you to sit around here and read books all day, but i'm losing my goddamn mind.

watch your mouth, young man.

if you're too chickenshit to go to this party, then just say that.

every child is an artist. the problem is remaining an artist when we grow up.

who put you in charge of the music?

i'm not gonna do this if you're not gonna take it seriously.

the world doesn't make sense anymore.

you're a very sweet person.

do you think i want to be babysitting you?

what the fuck is wrong with you?

it's like the bible, the quran, and the bhagavad gita all rolled up into one.

i'll go pack.

you've never had sex, have you?

the details would curl your toes.

there's nothing new in human experience. each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion.

history is not simply the study of the past, it is an explanation of the present.

what i say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business.

just trying to keep you on your toes.

get up, kid. it's daylight.

is that rye toast? how'd you know i like rye toast?

you're a pretty good teacher, kid.

you conniving little shit.

...hello, sweetheart!

i don't have any friends. real friends.

i lie. i steal. i piss people off.

no one is his own father.

your history does not dictate your destiny.

i find the world a bitter and complicated place, and it seems to feel the same way about me. i think you and i have this in common.

you're just a kid. you're just beginning. and you're smart. you've got time to turn things around.

let's get you a slice of cake or some other age appropriate dessert.

christ on a crutch.

where do you stand on indoor fireworks?

that's too much paprika.

you did this to yourself, [name], not me.

you are and always have been penis cancer in human form.

i missed you at breakfast.

so, did you decide where you're going to?

i'm not like you. i like having a job.

we could grab a burger and a beer.

keep your head up, all right?

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piratefishmama · 2 months

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Everything wrong with the liveaction Avatar and WHY.

in my own personal opinion that nobody need agree with me on.

Zuko fought back in the Agni Kai against his father.

Okay so, so far, there's been a lot of people trying to explain why this was wrong with the very limited space on twitter, i'm going to do it here, on tumblr, where i have unlimited space, whee. In the original show, Zuko, with pure terror in his heart, got down on his knees, begged, and pleaded for forgiveness that his father would not give, before being burned and banished for his weakness and disrespect. This gave the audience the impression that Ozai was fucking terrifying. His power was beyond comprehension, and he was so scary that his own son, his own progeny, would still be TOO AFRAID of him, to even dare cross him. Even at the cost of his honour. Ozai wouldn't even grant mercy to his own terrified son, scarring his face, a part of Zuko that he could never hide, so everyone would forever see the proof of Zuko's dishonour and shame. Ozai was awful. In every single way, but he was also terrifying. The Live Action version had Zuko fighting back. Not only did it have him fighting back, it also had him obtain an actual chance to win that fight. Now, an Agni Kai, is a fight between firebenders where the first person to be burned, loses. Undoubtedly, Ozai had many oppportunities to burn his son from the get go, but for a brief moment, Zuko has the upper hand, right here

It's right here, that Zuko could have won an Agni Kai against his father, the firelord, and big bad of the entire series, right out of the gate, before he'd even hit adulthood. Pathetic. Dont get me wrong, it's a cool scene, but it greatly diminishes how scary Ozai is supposed to be. Zuko has the strength to fight back, he's scared, but he's not paralyzed with fear, he's able to fight back, and damn near almost WIN. Shit's pathetic. Ozai almost got his shit rocked by a teenager. Who isnt even the avatar. Cartoon Ozai was a terrifying monster who had the actual avatar so scared he was having recurring nightmares about rocking up to the big fight without pants, this dude's just a terrible father with superpowers.

The Face Stealer Koh

In the original cartoon, Koh was introduced as a spirit old enough to know who and what the real world forms of the ocean and moon spirit were. A creepy stealer of faces who hunted by causing reactions in people. Stealing their faces wouldnt kill them, they just. Wouldnt have a face. In the live action, he appears in the 'Hei Bai' episode and hunts in the fog of lost souls, y'know, the place in Korra where lost souls get stuck in their worst memories? Then he cocoons them, and eats their faces. Like, full on eats them. And for some reason he was the one who grabbed the lost villagers in the Hei Bai episode, not Hei Bai. It's weird. Pretty sure one of them maybe got eaten, idk. Unclear. Gross and unclear.

Hei Bai plothole

Not so much a plothole as just... something missing. Hei Bai is seen in his 'distressed spirit' form, he's seen, his pain and distress is acknowledged multiple times, and the reason why he's distressed is seen, but he's never shown to be soothed. Aang buries an acorn in the ground near his damaged statue, but it never shows Hei Bai being soothed. In the cartoon he had to be handed the acorn to see it, to understand the implication and be calmed, if just burying an acorn in the ground would have worked, he'd have never been upset, because he'd have been able to see it himself in the ruins of the forest with there being acorns all over the place.

Wan Shi Tong cameo in Hei bai's foggy spirit forest

Dude why tf are you out of your library? Your foxes venture out into the world to find you things, get back to your library, what the hell r u doin out there?

WE DIDNT NEED TO SEE THE AIR NOMAD GENOCIDE

WE DIDN'T NEED TO SEE THE AIR NOMAD GENOCIDE

Gyatso's underwhelming skeletal remains.

In the cartoon they found him surrounded by dead firebender soldiers, having solo'd a ton of them by himself, an old man, a monk, all on his own. Giving the impression that either he fought them off until he fell, or he removed out the air in the room suffocating them all and himself. Both entirely badass ways to go. In the live action the firelord walks through his frankly impressive wall of airbending in a cool 'oo i'm on fire' trick, and burns him alive in front of a bunch of air nation children. The fucking dishonour on your whole goddamn family whoever decided upon that scene, jesus christ.

Azula wasn't scary

She was just... meh.

The Only Good Thing About the Avatar Live Action series.

Big spirit fish go brr.

#There's absolutely other things #but these things annoyed me the most #also the Koh Hei Bai and Wan Shi Tong thing all happened in the same episode lmao #shit was wild

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chvnnie · 9 months

Text

Letter Two: Nightmares

Love Letters Series Page

wc: 4.7k

genre: angst

warnings: apocalypse au, creature feature, use of weapons, HEAVY MENTIONS OF PTSD AND DESCRIPTIONS OF ANXIETY ATTACKS. this chapter is heavy and sad as it dives somewhat into the backstory of one of the members. please keep these warnings in mind. if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: when the world's a nightmare, it's hard to deal with your own.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents the stray kids members as people or as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

series taglist: @straystayvlive, @fawnpeaks, @strayingawayy, @almighty-obsession, @ershyni, @chai-papa, @moon0fthenight, @djeniryuu, @boomfrogg, @everglowdaisies — comment to be added

Hey, you.

You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?

The day the world went to shit.

I know a lot of people consider the day of the lab breakout the turning point, but I don’t. That was to be expected; we knew nothing about Nots. Keeping them in those glass chambers, studying their habits and transforms didn’t help much. A domesticated animal always acts differently than a wild one.

The day that I consider the end, we didn’t even know about Nots. You and I were in bed for the evening, the television playing softly while you read. I was in the bathroom shaving, hardly paying attention to the cheesy sitcom joke and recorded laughing.

I remember the razor nicking my jaw, tongue between teeth as I hissed. Fuck, the sting of it was awful. The razor fell in the sink, taking your attention from your book.

“You okay?” You ask, leaning in the bed to get a look in the bathroom. You laughed when you saw the little toilet paper square stuck to my face.

“It’s not funny.”

Though, I was smiling. I like hearing you laugh. God, I can’t wait to be with you again.

I remember washing my hands before I started to clean the wound, the show cutting to commercial break.

If you or your loved one have ever taken the drug by the name Nottingal, you may be entitled to financial compensation.

You asked what that medication was for. I said I wasn’t sure, but texted Seungmin to ask. He responded within seconds: A blood thinner. That’s all it was, just a simple pill taken once daily to reduce the risk of blood clots. A lot of people take it. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It still gives me the chills how easily we forgot about the medication, going to bed without a second thought. We moved past it, went to work the next day. The world kept turning, and the name faded from our memory.

Just a common, everyday drug. Why would we give it more thought?

An oddly cold weekend in March. You walked the dog, I went to the gym with Changbin. Our lives crossed over around lunchtime, stuffed in the tiny apartment kitchen as we tried to make our meals.

“We need a new apartment.” You complained. “I can hardly move in here.”

“What, you don’t want to be pressed up against me all the time?”

You scoffed at my joke, taking your sandwich and chips over to the couch. I was steps behind you, leaning close to my bowl of cereal so I didn’t spill any as I walked and ate. I sit, and you turn the tv on, left on the news channel for some reason.

“Ah.” I said through a mouth full of cheerios. “Turn this shit—“

And then, we saw it. The early stages of a Not. A woman in her 40s, hospitalized for an adverse reaction to Nottingal. She reported having chills with extreme nausea, nothing holding in her stomach. Admitted overnight just for observation, her symptoms got worse. At first it was just a fever — but then it kept climbing and climbing and climbing, to the point where the woman was almost boiling. She would claw at her hospital robe, screeching from the intense heat. Doctors eventually had to secure her to the bed.

Then, it started to get weird. They called it mania, at first. She wouldn’t speak, only responding with this terrible screeching sound, comparable to metal doors scraping against concrete. Her nails started to grow (both hands and toes) at a rapid pace, which was odd enough on its own.

Only made worse by the way they started to fuse into the skin, the color darker than the night sky. Claws. A nurse checked on patient zero one day and reported hearing something that sounded like the snapping of bones. After further examination, she saw that the woman’s back was starting to arch, spine taking a new shape—

The claws scratched the nurse across the forearm. The nurse said it didn’t feel like anything more than a deep cat scratch, bandaged up and went about her day. Just to end up at her workplace that night, stumbling into the emergency room. Chills. Nausea. A fever that’s a little too high for comfort.

That’s how we found out that it’s not only the pills that could cause a transformation. If the claws scratch you, the tip comes in contact with your bloodstream. That’s what it all comes down to; blood.

Two months. That’s all it took. From that commercial to the fall of humanity. Two months, and the world went to shit.

I’m not really sure why I wrote all of that. You experienced it too; the fear, doubt. Really, does anyone see the end of the world coming? I don’t think I’ve fully grasped that this is my reality now, that it’s not some kind of fucked up dream an edible gave me.

I so badly wish it was. Because even if this is the demise of mankind, not having you by my side is greater than my worst nightmare.

Speaking of nightmares, Jisung’s are back. I was sure that after we settled at our new base (right next to the mail stall, conveniently) that they would settle more. It’s been a while since he’s had one, especially this extreme.

We found an abandoned house. It’s not very big, but it fits all of us comfortably. Two floors, four bedrooms. The bathroom is still functioning, which is a treasure we’re not taking for granted. It’s funny how we still have running water, yet most places we hide out are missing that feature. The first shower I took in there almost made me cry; it was freezing, but it was a shower. Little things really do make the apocalypse easier.

Jisung’s in one of the upstairs rooms. It looks like it belonged to a child — bunk beds decorated with floral sheets and stuffed animals. The walls have drawings tacked on them, a bulletin board with movie tickets and notes from friends. It’s hard to look at. Wherever that child is, I hope she is safe. She was well loved.

Nobody wanted to stay in that room. It’s difficult to swallow, to be surrounded by the reminders of such an innocent life. But it has the best view of the front of the house, the boarded up windows have enough space for the barrel of Jisung’s sniper to fit through. He dropped his duffel by the closet, setting up his gun.

“Are you sure?” I had asked Jisung, an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. It still happens now whenever I walk in there. “There’s space on the office—“

“I’ll be fine.” He looked through the scope, positioning the gun accordingly. “It has the best view.”

“I can stay in here, too—“ Hyunjin started to say, but was quickly cut off.

“I said I’m fine.” Jisung doesn’t spare us a look. “Don’t worry about it.”

It was weird how he snapped at him. Honestly, ever since we left midtown, Jisung has been a little rougher than usual. Especially with Hyunjin. Remember how long it took to convince him that picking him up was the right thing to do? I feel like every letter I wrote you after we found Hyunjin was about his distaste for him. But I thought we had turned a corner — in fact, they were literally inseparable in midtown. Then we left, and…

Jisung is hiding something.

There was no reason to push the issue. You know Jisung, once his mind is made up, it’s almost impossible to change. Hyunjin is bunking with me in the master bedroom. He’s a cold sleeper, I’ve learned, often waking up with him huddled by my back. It’s made me miss you even more; how many mornings have I woken up with you attached to my back like a koala? Face buried in my shoulder blade, snores vibrating against it.

I can’t wait to wake up to that again. To you again.

The nightmare came a night when I wasn't on guard. I had been sleeping pretty soundly, actually. Hyunjin’s fluffy hair was right in my face, the cotton sheets nice and cool against my bare chest. It had been a while since I slept so well.

Earth shattering screams tore me from that peaceful sleep. Both Hyunjin and I practically jumped from the bed, weapons easily accessible and in hand. Did something get in? Were one of our men hurt?

Hyunjin’s face went pale when we heard the scream again. He dropped his knife, mumbling the younger man's name before sprinting from the room.

Jisung was on the bottom bunk, comforter low on his hips. He wasn’t dressed in anything other than sweatpants, the scar on his left rib cage looking more red than usual. Almost irritated, raised. The perfect circle as angry as the cries coming from its owner.

His nails were scratching at his neck, thrashing in the bed as he cried. Round tears rolling down his cheeks in earnest, voice cracking and turning raw. Whatever was happening behind his eyelids was devastating, all of his fears brightly burning for him.

“Jisung.” Hyunjin had said, climbing into the tiny bunk with him. His body jerked, trying to resist the hold he was put in. Head cradled to his friend’s chest, he starts to rock. “It’s not real. It’s not real.”

Jeongin came over the walkie. It’s his night on guard. “No breaches at the back. Bin?”

“Front is clear.” Changbin responds quickly, the unasked question obvious to all of us.

“Clear up top.” I responded, keeping my voice as low as possible. “It’s Jisung.”

No response. None needed. Everyone will keep their post, or try to go back to sleep. Too many hands and it only makes things worse for him.

Hyunjin is good at soothing him, bringing him out of the nightmare with minimal damage. Softly, he brushes the fluffy hair from his face, keeping a firm rocking motion. Gentle reminders whispered to him; he’s safe, it’s just a dream, it’s not real. I watched him rock my friend for at least five minutes, the screams coming to an end as he started to twitch awake. With a string of fearful whimpers, Jisung’s eyes finally opened and found Hyunjin’s.

The moment felt like years. Their eyes locked, the tears finding an end as they stared at each other, seemingly lost in the gaze. Hyunjin smiled softly at him, and it looked like Jisung was melting. An immediate peace washing over him, the nightmare so far out of grasp it’s forgettable.

Then he’s shoving himself out of his arms, cursing and mumbling under his breath to “let him the fuck go”. It was hard to miss the way Hyunjin’s face crumbled, though he quickly composed himself.

“You had another nightmare.” Hyunjin’s voice is so gentle, though it cracks with an emotion he’s trying to suppress.

“I know.” Jisung snapped, bringing his knees to his chest as he huddled into the corner. Body pressed against the wall, avoiding his gaze.

“Do you want to—“

“Can you fucking leave?” He asked, though it didn’t sound convincing. “I want to talk to hyung.”

Hyunjin smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. With a nod, he climbed out of the bunk bed, patting my shoulder as he walked past me. When the door shut, I heard him release a shaky gasp.

I stayed by the door, wanting to give Jisung as much room as I could. He kept his head facing the wall, breaths starting to even out as he worked on grounding himself. In and out, like you taught him. Think of happy thoughts, remind yourself that the world is more than the darkness that consumes you. I watched as his shoulders relaxed, body starting to slump as he found the peace he was looking for.

“Sit with me?” It was hard to hear, the question whispered into the foundation of the house. I crossed the tiny room, sitting by the ladder leading up to the top bunk. Giving him as much physical space as I could.

It was silent between us. Our breaths filling the dark room—

Wait. It’s completely dark. When I stood, I could hear his lips part, the start of protests rolling from his tongue. I didn’t walk far, only to the closet. Flicking on the light, I pulled the door open, letting just a sliver of it spill out.

“Why didn’t you turn this on?” I asked softly, trying to keep my tone steady. I didn’t want him to think I was accusing him, or blaming him for the nightmare.

Jisung shrugged. “I wanted to try.” He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, rubbing tight circles. “Obviously it didn’t work.”

I returned to my seat. With the light on, it was easy to see what Jisung was doing before he fell asleep. His journal face down on the floor, an uncapped pen right beside it. His favorite book, worn out and damn near falling apart, was tabbed open with a photo of the two of you (remember that beach trip we took last year? When he was home on leave? It’s from when the two of you were building that sandcastle, the polaroid still as clear as the day I took it. It’s one of my favorites) and a sketch of what looked like daisies. Yellow and pink, they cover the page, only broken up by a little signature in the bottom. One we all know too well at this point.

There was something missing from his pile, something that the picture reminded me of. “Where are your dogtags?”

He seemed tense at that question, sighing as he brought his hands down. “I think I lost them in midtown.”

It didn’t feel like the truth, but there wasn’t any need to press it. I simply nodded, taking the lie for what it was.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

I huffed a laugh. “Don’t apologize for that shit.”

“Sleep is so precious now, I hate taking it from you—“

“Seriously, Sung.” I looked at my friend, who I was surprised was looking at me. When our eyes met, I gave a reassuring smile. “You know we don’t mind.”

Jisung didn’t believe me. He never does when I tell him that. Yet, he nodded, knowing that doubt will never leave him. “It was bad.”

“Sounded like it.” Never push him. That’s what I’ve learned. If he wants to open up, he will. But when it’s so fresh, so heavy in his mind, focusing on the details could drive him mad—

“The Nots.” He said softly, resting his chin on his knees. Not once did his gaze stray from me, wide eyes filling with fresh tears. “They came. Here.”

I will admit, it confused me as to why this upset him so badly. We had seen at least five groups of them by this point, a few even crossing the front gate. They never stayed, always distracted by something in the distance. He had even shot a few.

Staying in this room was a bad idea. I knew it from the moment we arrived, even though he was insistent. I should have forced him into a different room, made him sleep anywhere else but here. It’s no surprise that the previous owner appeared in his dream, her small body twisted into the horror that we’re too familiar with.

“It got me thinking.” Jisung started to cry again. “Nots like to stay close to home—“

“No.” I cut the thought off before he could finish it. “You can’t go there, Jisung.”

He knew I was right. But you know him; stubborn as can fucking be, clinging to things with an annoyingly tight grip. As soon as it crossed his mind, there was no way he was letting it go. Instead of arguing, he just nodded. Mumbles something in agreement. It wasn’t going to escape him, and it would be silly for us to pretend it would.

“Will you sleep in here with me?” He asked.

I couldn’t help but wince. It didn’t feel right, the idea of resting here. “Why don’t you come to the master bedroom with me? There’s enough room for you, me, and Hyunjin—“

As soon as I mentioned his name, Jisung’s eyes went dark. “No.” He said simply. “I would rather stay here.”

I wanted to tell him no. To go back to the comfortable bed where I could sleep easily, not worrying about being haunted by a life not fully lived.

“I just don’t want to leave my gun.” Jisung said. “That’s it.”

Another lie. I had no choice but to take it as is. Nodding as I climbed the ladder.

As far as I know, Jisung didn’t talk about the nightmare with anyone else. The day following was spent with Minho, organizing the weapons in the living room. He sat on the ground, wiping the blood and dirt from barrels of guns. Sweat beaded his forehead, glasses low on his nose. But he laughed, joking with everyone who walked past.

Except Hyunjin.

I cleaned out the old pantry with Seungmin, still keeping the good food while disposing of the others. “They left in a hurry.” He said as he chunked another fruit cup in the trash. “Something must have happened here.”

They must have recently gone grocery shopping. A lot of snack boxes were untouched, the expiration date still a month or two away. “Can’t blame them.”

“No.” He threw a can of expired condensed milk at the trash can, shooting it like a basketball. Somehow, it made it. “You really can’t.”

That night, Jisung and I took every precaution to avoid a nightmare. The closest door was cracked open, yellow light filling the room. His old radio was tuned to some station that hasn’t been manned since the fall, playing the same jazz songs on repeat. The loop starts again every three hours, but even in the annoyance, it’s enough noise to help him sleep.

I had barely fallen asleep when he had another nightmare. To the bottom bunk I went, holding my friend and rocking him until he woke up. We did it again the next night, and the next, and the next. Nightmare after nightmare, though the details were always the same. A group of Nots, the smaller one in the back of the group. Vicious and hungry.

It was the room. It had to be, baby. I’ve been racking my brain for an explaination, because if it isn’t the fucking room, then I don’t know. And not knowing is the scariest part; all of this is so…predictable.

But these nightmares. They were anything but.

Jisung couldn’t sleep one night, the impending nightmare driving him mad. He sat by the gun, rereading his book with his feet propped up on the window sill. Or, it looked like he was reading. When I got closer, I saw him tracing the painted flowers with his finger.

“I’m going to bed.” He snapped the book shut when he realized I was there. “You should, too.”

Jisung pushes his glasses up, nodding as he rubs his eyes. “I’ll try in a bit.” He gave me a weary smile. “Sleep well, okay?”

I didn’t. My eyes didn’t even shut, focused on counting the bumps on the ceiling. I couldn’t allow myself to, not until I knew Jisung was on the bed beneath me, trying to rest despite his fears. You made me promise I would take care of him, and it was an easy one to make. I’m trying my love, even if his stubborn ass makes it incredibly difficult.

He was mostly quiet in his corner, humming a song or two before falling silent. Every time I glanced at him, his back was to me. Same position as before, thumbing through the book this time. Actually reading.

My eyes had started to shut when I heard the walkie click.

“Min.” Hyunjin’s voice cut through. “How’s the back?”

A beat. “Meh.” Seungmin responded. “Per us—ah, fuck.”

“Don’t say it like that.” A whine came from the older man.

“You’ll see them soon. Mid sized pack, moving quickly.” The walkie cut off, familiar squawks of Nots heard even from my bed upstairs. “Must be hungry.”

The book snapped shut, chair squeaking as Jisung pushed it out. I watched him stand, lean over the scope as he focused outside.

“Look at those ugly fuckers.” Hyunjin says with a sigh. “There are so—Jesus!”

Click. Hyunjin is gone, his exclamation is enough to make me sit up in bed. Jisung fumbled for the walkie, his hand shaking as he pressed the button. “Stop messing around, Jin.”

“Sung—“ He clicks back immediately, shock heavy in his tone. Is it from hearing Jisung’s voice, or what he saw? “Sorry, that pack just took out a stray.”

I listen to Jisung curse under his breath, annoyed at how the older man frightened him. Made him think we were under siege. He puts his eye back to the scope, and the walkie falls from his hand.

Then screams. Earth shattering screams.

Jisung is on the ground, sitting beneath the window with his hands over his ears. Back and forth he rocks, sobbing loudly with his eyes shut. “No, no.” He cries out. “No, no, no, no—“

I don’t have to ask. I don’t even have to look through the scope, but I do anyway. In the back of the pack is a smaller Not. Brown hair, waves breaking the straight pattern.

The worst thing about Nots is if you know who they were, they won’t be hard to spot after the transformation. There goes the little girl whose room we’ve slept in, tailing behind what looks like her parents.

“Jisung?” Hyunjin cuts through the walkie again. “What’s going on? Answer me.”

He responds with another scream, kicking the walkie as far from him as he can. The weight of it is weighing down on him, crushing his already fragile being into nothing but dust. His back is hitting the wall, nails in his throat. My friend, almost unrecognizable on the ground next to me.

“I’m coming up.” Hyunjin says, and I snatch the walkie from the ground.

“Keep your post.” I said. “I’m with him. If they get close, shoot.”

I don’t hear what Hyunjin said to me. Dropping to a squat in front of my friend, I gently remove his hands from his neck. “Jisung, talk to me.”

“I t-told you.” He says in a broken sob. “I told y-you, I told you—“

“Shh, I know.” I tried my best, really. I think you would be proud of me; everything you taught me about him, how to be the friend he needs in big moments. Though I’m convinced no one could ever be as good as you at this, I think I’m a pretty good third. Or like, fourth or fifth option. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen better.”

He shook his head, hiccuping through his tears. I kept a firm grasp on his wrists, letting him rock as much as he needed to. Tears stung my eyes; it’s kind of a given that watching your friend experience something like this is hard. But rarely do we talk about just how gut wrenching it is. My brave friend, nothing but a shell in my hands.

“Jisung.” I said his name softly. “We have to do it.”

“No!” He shouted loud enough to make the earth vibrate. “H-hyung, can’t. I c-can’t—“

“Hey, hey.” I grab him, pulling him into a hug. He fought it for a second, pushing at my chest to try to escape, though he eventually caved. The tears were warm against my shoulder, violent sobs muffled. “You don’t have to. I will.”

That’s when his eyes shot open, the fight returning to him. “D-don’t do that to her.” He cried. “She’s just a k-kid—“

Baby. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how I can pretend that this didn’t hurt me. Her pictures were everywhere; in the living room, across the hallways. The bulletin boards held strips of her and her friends. No more than nine or ten. A life barely lived, forced into an existence that she can never escape.

I cried. Sniffling in Jisung’s ear and swallowing dryly. “It isn’t fair to leave her like this.” I told him, though it was more for myself. Trying to convince both of us it’s the humane thing to do in a society that’s anything but.

Jisung was limp. Sobbing into my shoulder, mumbling weak pleas. Reconsider. Let her go—

“Seungmin.” Hyunjin’s voice cut through. “How’s the back?”

“Clear. You?”

“Not. They’re approaching.”

It had to be done. I had to let Jisung go, to let him curl into a ball as he covered his ears, awaiting the inevitable. Picking up the walkie, I clicked through. “Changbin, are you awake?”

He didn’t even wait a second. “Yeah.”

“Relieve Hyunjin. Take Minho with you.”

No questions were asked. There was no protest from the ball at my feet, shaking as he quietly sobbed. I waited, the sound of footsteps rushing past the door until the ones I needed found their way inside.

Hyunjin’s hair was a mess. A headband kept the frizzy locks out of his face. But that isn’t what caught my eye. The tags resting in the center of his chest, the ones we know all too well.

He moved to Jisung, the younger man letting him pull him close. Carefully, he sat him in his lap, rocking him. Back and forth, back and forth. Whispers of comfort heard even through the hands that clasped his ears.

When it comes to Jisung’s comfort, you are first. But there’s no doubt that Hyunjin is second.

Through watery eyes, I look through the scope. The gun is lightweight, easy to maneuver. Bodies of Nots litter the front yard, the ones who haven’t taken a bullet yet clawing at their own. I watched as another was it, terrible squeals released into the night as it twitched to its death. It took me a moment to find her. Behind the gate, lost in the body of an unrecognizable animal.

After I aimed, I shut my eyes. I don’t know how she died, my love, but I know I’ll never forget how painfully human her cries were. Freshly turned, returning to her home. Nots don’t like to wander far.

I boarded that room up today. Lock the door and hid the key somewhere no one will ever find it — within our group, or others who seek refuge here. She deserves to rest, and I’ll be damned if anyone disturbs her.

Jisung requested the sniper be moved to the office. Minho and I worked on it for him. He refused to touch it. It’s been a few days, but I’m the only one who has used it. I don’t know how long it will take him to be comfortable with it again.

At least he’s finally sleeping. The master bed was big enough for all three of us, though now Hyunjin seems to cling to Jisung. When he wakes, the younger man will shove him away. Though, I’ve caught him pretending to sleep. Enjoying the hold the artist has on him.

It’s a good home. I think we’ll be here for a while. The guys seem to like it a lot, and the normalcy that’s felt here — well, you don’t need me to explain how valued that is.

I’m glad to hear all has been going somewhat well for you guys. Felix has been asking nonstop about you. I think he’s a little obsessed with the idea of a ranch. You’ll have to teach him about the horses; he’s been reading up about them since his injury (which has gotten better, by the way. He’s off crutches as of yesterday according to Dr. Kim. Don’t tell him I called him that). The idea of getting to ride one has kept him going.

We’ve been mapping a route out there, but still have some things to finalize. I don’t want to get your hopes up, so I’ll tell you more when I know more.

I love you, you know? If it’s possible, this shit has made me love you even more. In the nightmare of this world, you’re like a guiding light. I hope I don’t have to wander much longer to find you.

Stay safe, my love. I’ll be upset if I have to cuddle Hyunjin forever.

Forever yours,

Chan

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deathxwalkerxx · 1 year

Text

Finding Home

Pairing: WandaNat x F!Reader

Warnings: Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Anxiety.

Summary: You’ve been abused for most of your life, by the person you trusted the most in this world. Until two women come and take you from there.

A/N: Still no WandaNat gifs I’m sorry panda’s. Also I’m sorry that you had to wait so long for this chapter. Promise I won’t leave that long again, things just got so hectic over here, had to take a step back.

part 1

Chapter 2

When Wanda came back into the room the young girl was still passed out. Natasha was checking over her wounds and she could see that her wife was seeing which ways she would need to break her bones in order to fix them back up. “I got some morphine.” Wanda says, knowing that might help the young woman make sure that she didn’t feel what her wife was about to do to her. The last thing either of them wanted was for you to go through more pain. Wanda isn’t sure who had done this to you, but she knew that she wouldn’t stop looking for them. You weren’t the first person that Wanda had helped out of these situations, but you were the first that had the most injuries. How anyone could treat someone like this, didn’t sit well with Wanda. She couldn’t even try to think about her harming Natasha in this way, or Natasha harming her in this way.

Their lives weren’t exactly the greatest but they didn’t make their trauma and their pasts turn them into something ugly. They turned into very caring and beautiful people, and whoever hurt you, was ugly in every way. She moved to rest on the bed by your head, using her magic to hold you down while she was watching as Natasha began to strip you of your clothes, and checking over the wounds that were just covering your body. It disgusted Natasha with what she was seeing over your body. Not to mention how thin you were also. Did no one care about you? And why didn’t they care about you? Emerald hue looks at Wanda’s now, seeing that her wife had you secure and Natasha moved down to your leg, running her fingers over it, feeling where it was broken, then she was bracing her hands tightly around your leg, before she was snapping it back into place.

You let out a howl from the pain that was now coursing through your leg, it was throbbing, but you were still out of it from the injuries that you had endured. “Shit, I forgot to give her the morphine.” Wanda says now, but Natasha was shaking her head, her hue snapping to Wanda’s. “We’ll give it to her after. I have to set a few more bones, and then we can maybe call Bruce in to put her leg in a cast and her arm.” Natasha says to Wanda who was still holding you down, as Natasha then set your arm back into place. They clean you up before taking you to the med bay where Bruce and Cho were fixing you up a bit better. They set you up with an IV that was giving you some morphine and the other that was giving you some nutrients that you were clearly lacking.

Wanda and Natasha didn’t leave your side of course. Considering you were just a civilian and you weren’t meant to be in the tower. They also didn’t want you waking up alone. Or waking up with Steve in the room asking you questions that you might not want to answer and wouldn’t have the answers to. You mumbled in your sleep and Natasha and Wanda came to realize that you had nightmares a lot. It was understandable considering all that you had gone through, it was no wonder that you were having nightmares. Both women were there to soothe you back to sleep, hoping that you could find at least something peaceful to dream about. It was about just after midnight that you woke up with a gasp.

The room was dim, and you could make out the sound of beeping that came from your left side. You felt a bit out of it, and you realized you couldn’t feel the pain that would have been coursing through your body. You also realized that this was not your place. The monitor started to beep a little faster as you became terrified. If you weren’t home, your girlfriend was going to be mad. You weren’t supposed to leave the house, you were told to stay there and keep it clean. What was she going to do to you if she found out that you weren’t there? You tried to move, but your body was heavy and you were whimpering as you tried to get your legs to move, it was then that you found that your leg was in a cast. So was your arm. Your girlfriend wouldn’t have patched you up, you knew this. Your head was foggy so you couldn’t recall how you even ended up here.

As you scanned the room you realized there were two figures sleeping on either side of you, their heads resting on the side of the bed. You were sure they were going to have sore backs when they woke up. But why were you here? Why would they bring you here? What did you do? And how were you going to get out of this? The beeping was still going fast and it was Natasha who woke when she heard it. Her eyes immediately went to you and she nudged Wanda awake seeing that you were awake now. She could read the fear in your eyes and it was all over your face as you were trembling under the blankets that they had covered you in. “We’re not going to hurt you, sweetie.” Wanda says to you now, watching the way you flinched when she rested a hand on your good arm.

“Where am I?” You ask them both now, your eyes darting between the both of them, trying to read their faces but you weren’t good with reading people, you never had been. You knew you had to get back home, god knows what was going to happen if your girlfriend found out that you weren’t at home, it would probably be a lot worse than what you received the other night. “You’re safe.” Wanda decides to go with. She wasn’t sure what you’d think about them breaking into your place and bringing you back to the compound. She wanted to let you know that you were safe first, so you wouldn't have to panic about them hurting you. Wanda could see how you were curling up on yourself, and she didn’t want you to move, she wanted you to be able to relax.

“You’re in the med bay of our compound.” Natasha tells you as she moves to grab you some water. She figured you’d want to go back to your house, it was a natural instinct. Someone who had been hurting you for no one knows how long, your natural instinct is to go back there, to avoid it. She knew that Wanda wouldn’t want you to go back and neither did Natasha, but she also knew it wasn’t up to them to decide this for you. If you wanted to go back, they’d have to accept that and let you go back. “When can I go home?” Natasha was expecting this question and seeing the way her wife’s shoulders dropped she could see that Wanda wasn’t. She passes you the water before sitting down on the bed. “Whenever you’re healed. Unfortunately you’ve been lacking food. Not to mention your arm and leg had been broken. If we send you back home now, chances are you won’t survive through the day.” She wasn’t exaggerating this. You were weak, and if whoever was hurting you decided to really go for it? You really wouldn’t survive.

You on the other hand had a choice to make. You weren’t suicidal, and honestly, did you really want to go back? Maybe you could stay here and heal and then disappear. Of course you had no money to your name so you couldn’t go anywhere. You laid back down in your bed, the water just being held in your hand as you stared up at the ceiling. The way you thought about your life going, this wasn’t it. “I supposed, just until I get better.” You mumble out, fear still radiating through you though, because if she did find you here, you were sure you wouldn’t be staying here for very long. You could hear a sound that you deciphered as a squeal but you didn’t look to see where the noise came from. To be honest with each sound that was happening had you flinching, your eyes closing tightly like you were expecting something awful to happen.

“You are safe here.” Wanda says again as she stands beside Natasha, a hand running through her short curls while the both of them were staring at you now. “Yeah. I’ve heard that before.” You mutter under your breath, before you were placing the water back on the table not feeling like a drink right now, you actually felt pretty tired and soon enough you found yourself falling asleep once more, while Natasha and Wanda make plans on where you’d be staying while you were healing. It was better to have you close to them, so as you slept they began to organize a room across from theirs, making the bed, making sure the tv was working, and the room looked inviting for when you were able to come and stay here.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader

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