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spidernuggets · 4 months

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Jason Todd x Reader

Warning: Mentions of suicide attempt

"You're not crazy, Y/n! If anyone thinks so, they're the crazy ones-"

You laugh. "Thanks, Jason. I like being friends with you too."

"Jesus, keep it down, would ya," you say groggily, rubbing your eye as you walk out of your room, utterly confused at the commotion unravelling in the lobby. "The fuck is going on?"

"You people are insane! I'd rather be with Deathstroke than with you assholes..." Jason says, the last statement he claims more quietly. A harsh truth, revealing how little his supposed teammates thinks of him.

"Jason drew crosses all over my mirror after telling me to go get looked at by a fucking priest!" Rachel yells in anger.

You looked over at Jason in confusion.

"Yeah, I told her to get looked at, so what?" Jason yells back. "You almost fucking killed me! And I didn't draw those crosses, I haven't got a fucking clue what you're on about, how many time do I have to say it!"

You stare at the two, still delirious from your interrupted nap. Jason would say some fucked up stuff but drawing crosses? He wouldn't go that far. Barking and yapping is the most he'd do.

"And he put a beer bottle in my room," Hank says.

"And a picture of Elis," Dawn adds.

"And an orange soda bottle," Donna finishes.

The adults list the things Jason presumably planted in their rooms. But for what motif? Just to piss them off? Wait. Jason literally fell from a building like, what? Yesterday? Why the fuck would he pull this shit then..

"Wait, wait, wait. Pause, I can not stress this enough," you say. "I understand Rachel's situation, what the fuck about you guys?" You ask the other adults.

"Jason just put some shit that was deeply connected to our past in our room. If he pulls something like this again, I'll forget what team he's on," Hank replies.

You cross your arms. "Okay, did any of yous tell Jason about this deep shit about your past?"

Rachel and Gar's head turned to the adults as they all looked at each other with doubt.

"Oh my fucking days," You scoffed, aggressively rubbing your temples.

Before you can scold at them, you notice Jason is already gone.

Jeez, maybe I am a shit teammate.

You ram into his room first and instantly run out when you see he's not there. You check the surveillance room, the training room. Not there, either. Finally, you speed up to the roof. And there he was, standing at the edge.

Your heartbeat's pace picked up.

"Jason," you called out. He looked over his shoulder, then looked right ahead of him.

"C'mon, Jason, get down from there. We can work this out," you slowly say, taking small steps towards him.

You see him shake his head. "There's nothing to work out," he says. "I'm just gonna fuck things up again. There's a poison in me. That shit spreads. Hurts even the most healthy people."

You stip at a safe distance where Jason wouldn't make any irrational movements if you'd come any closer, and you lean against the ledge near him.

"Mm, well, what about people who's already unhealthy?"

Jason turns his head to look at you in confusion.

"Jason, all of us here has been through some tough shit. From my experience, this 'poison' you're talking about, it's nothing compared to what I had to face. I'm sorry that they accused you, Jason. I don't even know why they did- they don't even have a good reason to," you explain, making sure he knew that you were not against him, that he wasn't alone.

"I don't know if this makes any difference," you continue, "but I believe that you didn't do any of that."

"You don't?" Jason asks in disbelief, yet still a hint of hope in his voice.

"Of course I don't. You're my teamma... You're my friend, Jason," you reply back, thinking it's safe to step closer to him as you reach a hand out towards him. "Please come down," you pleaded.

Jason stares at your offering hand for a while, then glances the view in front of him before returning his gaze to your hand.

He sighs, taking your hand in his and steoping diwn from the ledge, leaving a gasp of relief from you before you pull him into a tight embrace.

A few seconds later, you push him away, realising you may have crossed some boundaries.

"Sorry.. I- I'm just glad you came down," you admitted as Jason just shrugged in reply.

You sighed as you sat down, your back leaning against the ledge, patting the ground beside you, inviting Jason to sit beside you.

"Jason, you are kind of an asshole. I mean, you did tell Rachel to go get looked at by a priest- I know she almost tried to kill you, but she still needs to get a hold of her powers. I'm not saying it's not a reason to be scared of her! If I was in your place, I'd be freaked out by her, too. Just give her some time. Plus, you did call both her and Rose freaks..." Jason slightly nods at his mistake. "But... you're one of the most extraordinary people I've ever met," you admit as it seemed like Jason's head could've snapped off his neck from how fast he turned.

"Don't let it get to your ego," you say before continuing, "I mean, you can spar blindfolded! You survived being kidnapped by Dr. Light and Deathstroke. Oh... and Jason," you call out to him before you shift yourself to face him properly. "I know you're always saying you're okay after your... fall. But it's not a sign of weakness to ask for help. You don't need to prove yourself to anybody. Not to me, at least," you finish, placing a hand kn his shoulder for assurance.

All Jason does is look at you, probably searching for any sort of trap or lies or whatnot. You believe you've said too much that things got awkward and he probably wants to be alone.

"Yeah.. I've been talking for too long," you agree to his probable thoughts as you try to get up.

But Jason stops you, grabbing a hold of your arm.

"No," he says, "I... Thank you," he confesses as you take your place back on the ground. "Yeah, I guess I am an asshole," he continues, looking at the concrete underneath him. "I don't know... It's just shit I say. Sometimes, I say it without thinking. I say a lot of shit without thinking," he admits his wrongdoings.

"And that's okay," you reply, placing your hand on top of his. "We make mistakes. But we talk it out, and we forgive."

"I didn't put all that shit there or draw the crosses, I swear-"

"Jason, you don't need to try convince me. I told you, I believe you," you reassure him.

"Didn't really believe that you believed me," he shrugged. "The others still probably think I'm insane."

"If they do, I'll just punch some sense into them," you tell him. "Besides, they can't think you're any crazier than me."

Jason's eyebrows scrunched together. "What do you mean?"

"Oh shit," you laughed. "You never knew about how I became a Titan, and how I even met the others,."

Jason shakes his head.

"Well, I was running away from my mom. Criminal, but not one of those well-known ones. Robbed a few jewels here and there, had some of her workers try and catch me. Then, when I lost them, the only place I could think of staying was an alleyway. Luckily, it was on the safe side of town. That's when Dick found me. Brought me back to the tower-"

"He really has a thing for bringing unconscious people back to the tower, huh?" Jason interrupts, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"That sounds horrible without context," you say, then continue, "but yeah. When I woke up, I was absolutely shitting myself. I was my bag, but when I got to the elevator, the passcode wouldn't unlock. That's when everyone came. Hank, Dawn, Donna, Dick, Gar, and Rachel. I was so freaked out. So I threw my homemade bombs at them-"

"I'm sorry, bombs??"

"Calm down. They were just glitter bombs," you say as Jason makes a face in both confusion and amusement.

"Bht my mom taught me a few tricks. Pinned Gar to the wall with a couple of knives. Dawn was stuck to the floor with some knives, too. I think Hank was blinded by some glitter. But yeah, eventually, they got me to calm down," you finish, laughing at the memory.

"Jesus... I still can't get over the glitter bombs. I thought you just made flash and concussion bombs," Jason says.

You shook your head. "Nah, I only learned how to make those later. The glitter bombs were just a hobby. So, I guess you yourself aren't as insane as you think you are. I mean, even when I used to go to school, kids would think that I'm crazy, but I probably am, like, glitter bombs as a hobby? I-"

"You're not crazy, Y/n! If anyone thinks so, they're the crazy ones-"

You laugh. "Thanks, Jason. I like being friends with you too."

Jason's reaction is hesitant, but he smiles and laughs with you.

"C'mon, let's go back down. You need a rest. A long rest. We can even listen to that loud metal music you listen to," you say as you get up, dusting yourself off.

suggestions for part 2?

Jason copies you, getting up and wiping any dirt off from his pants, and a genuine smile on his face as he follows you down back to his room.

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teddy-bear-baby · 3 months

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Their Deadly Flower - Fourteen

(A/n: With the end of the fic drawing near, I'd like to take a moment to tell you all how much I appreciate everyone's support on my first fully released writing project. It really does mean the world to me and gives me the motivation to continue writing(Even if it's a slow process). I love you all, my Lovelies.)

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader

Warnings: Heavy violence, mentions and depictions of torture

Prolog - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Here - Epilog

Bloomed in Poison - Prolog

Ghost’s tired eyes widen at the sight before him. An angel had stepped into the room, covered head-to-toe in blood-soaked tactical gear. Bright white light illuminates the figure as they step further into the dimly lit room, though that could have just been his mind slipping further into madness. The lack of sleep and immense amount of pain he’s been put through have done some strange things to his head. He often found himself talking to conjured images of his team, telling them how much he missed them and needed them, only for them to disappear seconds later.

Iris had been a particularly common and vivid hallucination. Popping up at least twice an hour to let Ghost know how well he was doing or to tell him he just needed to hold on a bit longer. Everytime it happened, he’d keep himself from blinking for as long as possible hoping to prolong the visit from his conjured lover and the brief reprieve it gave his broken mind. Even now, watching as Iris approached him with tear stained cheeks, the only thing he could focus on was keeping his eyes open to keep the illusion here with him.

~~~~~

Gone. She’s just gone. The moment you think you have the leverage to get Ghost and König back it all disappears. Rain had somehow vanished from the base, though you’re certain you saw her just a few hours ago in the mess hall. Maybe it was just bad timing and she had slipped out of the base just before you’d put the pieces together. Or maybe she’d seen you rushing down the hall looking like a madman on your way to tell Price. Either way, the lockdown and search of the premises had turned up nothing. She was gone without a trace of her ever having been there.

“I can’t believe this shit,” You mumble angrily as you tighten your vest to your body, readying yourself for the suicide mission.

Soap sighs as he double checks the magazines for his rifle, clearly having had enough of this past week. “How did all go so sideways?”

You couldn’t help but feel like it was mostly your fault. Obviously, Alice had it out for you for some reason, Ezekiel made that pretty evident. All the thought does is piss you off more. Deep down you knew that it wasn’t just a feeling, it was your fault. Your men were captured, in god knows what kind of state right now, and the team was going on a suicide mission because of something you’d done to Alice. Because you wouldn’t open up and spill your secrets to your ‘best friend’ or what you believed to be your best friend at the time.

A disheartened sigh falls from your lips as you continue to ready your gear, tightening straps and holstering weapons as your mind continues to lay all of the blame on you. It doesn’t make sense. Why go through all the trouble of hurting so many people because someone you don’t even like wouldn’t open up to you? Perhaps that wasn’t her reasoning, maybe there was something else causing her completely irrational plans. Or maybe they weren’t her plans at all.

The emptiness of the halls and rooms has you thinking you may have been lied to. Or maybe you had the wrong warehouse. But that all-too-familiar magnetic buzz has you moving deeper into the building. Like a ship to a siren’s call, you lead the other four into the unknown, fearing the worst while hoping to find the source of your current hardship. Hoping, praying, pleading with whatever god would listen, to be reunited with König and Ghost. Whether you made it out alive didn’t matter to you anymore so long as you got them back where they were supposed to be.

A long, disheartened sigh escapes your lips as you glance around the last hallway. Having found nothing but empty rooms and silent halls thus far, you begin to wonder if coming here was even worth it. What a waste of time and effort you may have put into a completely empty building after all the trouble you’d gone through to get here in the first place. Suddenly all the fighting and yelling at superiors didn’t seem right anymore. The fear of being fired from the only job you want, of being pushed away from your family again settles low in your gut like brick.

Those thoughts only last a moment as one of the men taps you on the shoulder. “There,” He nods toward one of the doors on the left side of the hall. It appears to be made out of solid metal and there’s a keypad on the wall next to the handle.

Your brain fails you as you step closer to the door, all caution thrown to the wind as you grab the handle. It doesn’t budge, so you try again. And again. And again, until you're practically shaking the door free of its hinges trying to get it open. You want to cry as the magnetic pull grows exponentially stronger. You're on the verge of tears when you finally snap out of your little tantrum and pull yourself together. Now equipped with the knowledge that this door was extra secure, you take a step back and attempt to reassess the situation.

Your head shakes on its own as you stare Price right in the eyes. “I won’t.” You’re not only disobeying his orders but you’re also directly telling your captain no. If it were any other man standing not even five feet from you, you’d probably be scared to death by the mere thought of telling a superior no. But this was Price after all, and he was like family to you and understood your side. “I can’t.” Your voice shakes with unshed tears as you continue shaking your head.

Price nods slowly as he looks around at each of the soldiers standing around you both. “Alright.” He gestures to the four KorTac members. “Team two, you’re with Iris.” He steps forward and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Lead them well. Bring ‘em home alive, yeah?”

Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the meaning of his words. Not even ten minutes ago, he’d been ordering you and all the others to climb into the armored vehicle so you could get the suicide mission over with. You’d stood there, unmoving as all the others clambered begrudgingly toward said vehicle. But you couldn’t move, you were glued to your spot stuck on the thought of your men being tortured for something that wasn’t their fault.

Now, Price is telling you to take these four men and lead them on an unofficial mission to save Ghost and König. The thought of the repercussions this could cause flash only briefly through your mind as you look over at the team of operators. “Will you follow me? Allow me to lead you through enemy territory to retrieve Ghost and König?” You nearly choke on air as they all give nods and stand at attention before you. Clearly, they’d gained quite a bit of respect for you over the past two months, something you hadn’t expected at all. Especially not after the scene that had been caused during the training for your first mission with the group.

It wouldn’t open. The stupid fucking door wouldn’t open. No matter how many different number combinations you entered, the damned thing just stayed closed. The only other way to open it would be to find a keycard with access to whatever system the electronic lock was linked to. That feels impossible considering the rest of the warehouse had been completely empty. Your hope of getting Ghost and König back was quickly diminishing as you did the only thing you could think to do, stare at it blankly.

A growl of frustration bubbles up your throat as you throw a heavy punch at the keypad on the wall, watching as it cracks in half from the force. A few sparks fly from the broken tech as it begins to short-circuit. And then you hear, like the most beautiful song to ever be written, sung by the voice of a goddamned angel. The lock clicks open as the power supply to the keypad fails.

You huff out a laugh as you slowly push the door open, revealing a long concrete staircase. The irony of your anger issues tickles the back of your brain as you force yourself not to burst into a fit of insane laughter. For years you’d been swallowing down your anger, focusing it into your work and training, and all it took to overcome this obstacle was to let yourself feel frustrated again. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to show a little aggression and anger.

You shrug at your own thoughts and usher four men to follow you down into the basement. The cool, stale air filters through your balaclava as you descend the steps as quietly as possible. You make sure to keep your eyes trained on the opening at the bottom so nothing could take you by surprise.

You're only three steps from the bottom when you begin to hear voices. Your hand shoots up over your shoulder as your feet come to a halt, signaling for the others to stop as well. Three distinct voices can be heard from around the corner, you’re able to pick up a bit of their conversation.

“Any new information from our puppets in there?” A gentle, sultry male voice questions, a small snicker following his question. A deep, gruff male voice speaks with what sounds to be agitation. “Won’t say anything, not a word from either of ‘em.”

A familiar sounding female voice chimes in, “Keep trying, one of them is bound to crack eventually. I’m willing to bet you could get the giant to talk first.”

That voice strikes an animalistic feeling in the back of your neck causing your spine to become unnaturally straight. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, raking against your eardrums in the most mind breaking ways. Rain’s face materializes behind your eyes, that all-too-familiar heat returning to your chest as you physically force yourself to stand still. The last thing you need right now is to lose what little chance you had of getting Ghost and König out of here alive.

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a speeding truck. They’re alive. They’re here and alive. Relief floods your entire being, your shoulders loosening and jaw unclenching for the first time since they’d been taken. It feels as though you can breathe again, the stale air of the warehouse basement suddenly seeming as fresh as the ocean breeze. A small smile forms on your chapped lips, the thought of getting them out of here is the only strength you can find to hold back the tears.

The sound of retreating footsteps is briefly stifled by the gruff voice once more. “I don’t think either of ‘em will crack. Been here for a week, beaten, tortured, threatened and still won’t talk? I think it’s time to give up and just off ‘em.”

You swallow a growl that forms in your throat as you push the graphic images out of your head. You nod once and motion for the others to follow you as the footsteps continue to grow quieter. Poking your head out of the stairwell, you run your eyes over your new surroundings. Small tables and metal chairs haphazardly litter the large room. Most of the tables hold trash of some sort. Empty booze bottles and plastic cups are strewn across the stone floor. The place seems to be in complete disarray, which shouldn't be as surprising as it is.

It didn’t take long for your small group to be noticed. iver heavily armed soldiers sneaking through rooms and halls that were mostly white and light gray were bound to be spotted eventually. On top of all the other disadvantages you’d found yourself to have, you hadn’t taken into consideration that breaking the keypad might send out a security alert. So, everyone residing within the small compound was aware of, and on the lookout for, intruders.

While you’d never been a huge fan of killing people, you knew in some cases it was unavoidable. So when a few of the residents found you and your merry band of KorTac operators, your choices were to turn yourselves in and cause a ruckus, or subdue them by whatever means necessary. You all chose the latter, and proceeded to defend your freedom with swift, less than merciful deaths for anyone that tried to get in your way.

It seemed there were at least three hostiles for every corner you turned and two more for every room you looked through. Waves of people coming at your group over and over again as you make your way through what you had previously thought to be a small warehouse basement. That wasn’t the case at all though. In fact, there was an underground tunnel system tucked in the back of the original basement. Three whole underground floors, each of which contained housing units, offices, bathrooms and small kitchens. It was like moving through the equivalent of three military bases.

You probably wouldn’t have made it this far if team one hadn't shown up thirty minutes ago. All of team two had sustained minor injuries, mostly bruises, small cuts and grazes from near misses of bullets. Ammo had been running low and you were down to two of your six combat knives by the time Price, Soap and Gaz made their surprise appearance. The confusion that overtook you nearly made you dizzy, until they explained what they found. What they found being absolutely nothing, which made this elaborate base make a hell of a lot more sense.

“So, they’re alive? You’re positive?” Cautious concern and elation snake through Price’s tone as he speaks. His eyes are glued to you and the team you’d been leading.

You nod slowly, honestly uncertain of how to answer without bringing the team’s morale down. “As of an hour and thirty-six minutes ago, yes.” You hadn’t seen Rain at all during your extensive expedition of, what you now suspect is, the organization’s new headquarters. Your eyes find Soap as he works deftly to rig a small charge on a security access door. The hope being it’ll give you all a quicker and quieter way to travel around the labyrinth of never ending rooms and hallways.

Soap finishes placing the charge and ushers everyone around the corner of an intersecting hall. “Shouldn’t need this much clearance,” He shrugs as he peers back around the corner at the door. “But you can never be too safe.” He steps back behind cover and holds up the charge trigger. A small bang echoes through the hallway, causing slight ringing in everyone’s ears. “Maybe it was a bit too much?”

You snort out a laugh and follow Soap around the corner to the security door which is now blown wide open. “At least it’s open.” You shrug as you both walk into the room, monitors full of video feeds fill the back half. Your eyes widen slightly as you scan over each of the feeds, unconsciously looking for two very specific people. “Oh, God,” You gag as your eyes finally find the feed for the ‘interrogation’ rooms.

Tears fall from your lashes as you take in the horrendous sight of your men, bound and tied to chairs. The cameras face both of them directly, neither wearing their masks but both recognisable from the clothing they wore. Clothing you had seen them wearing just before they disappeared, only now it was cut open and stained the color of rust in some places. Cuts and bruises litter their bodies, fresh blood seeming to seep from their skin in places. Your stomach twists with the need to evacuate anything that may be contained within as your heart squeezes, trying to fold in on itself.

You knew it would be bad, you knew this is what was happening to them, but you could stand to look at it. Couldn’t stand knowing you were the reason for the days of torment your lovers had been through. And now, standing here, more or less fine, while they suffered endless amounts of pain, had broken you. Your usually strong exterior, your need to be fine even in the hardest of situations dissipates. The emotional turmoil you’d thought would be the end of you couldn’t compare to what they’d been through.

Guilt and disgust fill you as you think back on how bad you’d felt for yourself. You felt pathetic, nearly breaking from their absence was so stupid in hindsight. You’d been so focused on holding yourself together while they’d been here, counting on you to come for them.

They’d been paid a visit recently, that much was obvious and it made your blood boil with white hot rage. You want to shriek in anger, to wail in sadness and throw things. You don’t though, you keep it together as you knew you’d get your chance to be emotional once they were back in the confines of safety. Your eyes scan the screens once more, finding the room numbers before you turn and rush out of the security room.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins and the sound of your rapidly beating heart drowns out the calls of your team. You were on a mission and nothing would stand in your way. So they were either with you, or they weren’t.

The next twenty minutes blur in your head, flashes of the events that transpired are all that remain. Images of you sprinting through the halls, picking off the residents of the facility one by one. The cuts and bruises you’d sustained, the single bullet that had managed to hit you in the midst of the absolute rampage you’d gone on stick in the back of your head. You don’t feel them though, your whole body feels numb and you can’t think of anything but pulverizing the two people you know had a hand in Ghost and König’s torture.

You vaguely remember team two following hot on your heels as you massacred a fifth of the people on the third floor. They’d followed you without question, either having full confidence in your abilities or having that little control over themselves as well. It hadn’t really mattered to you either way, you were just glad to have some sort of backup when it came time to bust into the room that contains the holding cells.

Many well-equipped guards stood in your way, but you weren’t deterred in the slightest by their presence. Neither were the four men from KorTac. In that moment it became clear why they had followed you so willingly, all of them standing at your side waiting for you to give the order. Waiting for you to lead them into what would most likely be a bloodbath for your small, now ammo-less group.

“This will most likely end in at least one of our deaths,” You explain in a hushed voice as you glance between the four men. “You’ve come this far with me and not questioned any of my rash decisions, I wouldn’t blame any of you if this is not a risk you’re willing to take.” You swallow hard, nerves slowly wiggling their way past the wall of numbness and determination that had gotten you this far. “You’ve all done well and I commend you all for the bravery you’ve shown by blindly following my lead.” You salute them all as a show of respect, nodding in approval as they follow suit. “I’m going to turn around, you have thirty seconds to make your decisions. After that I’ll be moving forward with no knowledge of who has chosen to stay and who has chosen to go.”

You take a deep inhale and turn toward the door that would likely lead to your death. You wouldn’t make the choice for these men, you wouldn’t lead more people than necessary to their deaths for what felt like a selfish and reckless move. Your stomach churns with a mixture of respect and fear when you hear four sets of boots come to stand in a line beside you.

“If we play this right,” Horangi pipes up quietly. “We can get weapons from a few of the guards before they realize we’re even here.”

~~~~~

Blood. So much blood. Covered in it, head to toe and back again, absolutely soaked. Yours, Ghost’s, König’s, and everyone else you’d come in contact with in the past three hours. But most of it belonged to that prick who’d suggested just offing your men. It’s sticky and wreaks of iron, leaving a tingling sensation in the back of your nasal cavity. It serves as a stark reminder of the things you found out you were capable of about forty-five minutes ago and it’s the last sinsation you feel before everything around you fades to black. Your whole body ached from a hard battle your team had barely won. None of you had escaped without injuries that ranged in severity from simple bruising to bullet wounds. Through all of it the only thing keeping you upright was the hope that that vile man hadn’t managed to follow through with his suggestion.

As the last guard falls by Soap’s hand, the whole group breathes a collective sigh of relief. The room grows deathly silent as we search the fallen guards for keys to the cell that Ghost and König were held in.

You’re the first to enter the room, your feet dragging slightly as you step in and come face to face with the bruised and broken forms of Ghost and König. Your first instinct is to run up and embrace them but that thought is quickly stunted by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. You think better of it anyway, better not to crush them in your embrace and further cause them pain. Instead you settle for a gentle caress to each of their cheeks as your team moves in around you, readying themselves to haul the two large men out of the underground compound.

On the long walk back to the surface with the team carrying your most injured companions, your eyes catch sight movement out of the corner of your eye. Your head turns just in time to catch the back half of a man trying to sneak behind a corner. Unluckily for him, and luckily for you, your eyes are sharp from years of paranoia and working with 141 and you rush to subdue the man in hopes of getting your hands on Rain once and for all.

Much to your surprise as you round the corner you find that the man is accompanied by the woman you’re after. Your heart pounds as the anger you’d recently resolved comes flooding back, mind reeling with all the ways you’d enjoy tormenting these two cretins as soon as you got your hands on them. The aching in your body is quickly forgotten as Rain begins to make a run for it. You move to follow, determined to take her down before she manages to disappear for the third time but this man, whomever he may be to her, steps in the way.

His form is larger than yours, appearing almost bodyguard-like as he blocks your path. His arms are outstretched so even if you attempt to move around him, he’d have a good chance of catching you.

Your anger turns to pure, unadulterated rage, watching over the man’s shoulder as Rain disappears around another corner in the maze of hallways. A frustrated yell falls from your lips as your eyes harden and move to the man’s less than pleasant face. “I’ll fucking kill you!” THe last word to leave your lips before you pounce on the man. Your hands find their way around his thick neck as he falls back from the sudden attack. You don’t give him a chance to react before using your grip to take the air from his lungs. Pounding his head into the concrete floor as the fire in your eyes intensifies.

For ten solid minutes you remain on top of the man. Long after the light had drained from the man’s eyes and he’d stop clawing at your wrists. Still you continue to abuse the man’s body as an outlet for your rage. All of your usual management skills are gone and the anger deep in your bones, anger from years past, spurs you on. You only stop once the adrenaline that fueled you ran out completely. Your body grows weary as your arms fall heavily to your sides. It takes every ounce of energy and strength you have left to drag yourself out of the compound to the awaiting vehicle. You collapse inside next to Ghost and König’s unconscious forms before slipping into darkness yourself.

(Don’t forget to ask about joining the tag-list: @josieguts @strangepuppynightmare @theredviolets @poohkie90 @giulia2372 @fillechatoyante @buckysjuicyplums @running-writing @darkravenqueen98 @bigman101 @birdiiiiiiiiiii @kessi-21)

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skinimini80 · 6 months

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WARNING I TALK ABOUT SUICIDAL THOUGHTS IN THIS POST!!! AND EATING DISORDERS BUT THATS A GIVEN WITH THE TAGS IM USING.

I promise I won’t kill myself! Don’t worry! Just venting cause I literally have no one to tell!

I’m liquid fasting today, and for a week until I have money again lmao.

I’m literally so annoyed with how much money I spend on food just to b/p it.

Like I’ll have every intention of keeping it down, but then my body just hates the feeling of food in my stomach.

I took some sleep meds and hit a point where I didn’t want to eat at all because I was so sleepy. I slept 13 hourssss

It makes me feel more on track for today to already have killed so much time. I’ve got an evening lecture and some homework to tackle. I also have a morning lecture tomorrow so I can’t do the sleeping med thing again. Annoying but whatever.

Also real life is kicking my ass rn. I genuinely need to keep scrolling on the Reddit suicide watch page because seeing all the annoying people on there who are like “I give up! Life has fucked ME over. Personally I am UNIQUELY hopeless. Because I am so God DAMN special that I AN ORIGINAL, one of a KIND individual. Can not HANDLE the TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS of mY LIFE.”

Not to discredit those feelings, but like sometimes I’m afraid I’ll kill my self out of entitlement for what I think I deserve. No one or thing owes me anything. I don’t have friends or family so there’s no unspoken agreement there that exist within relationships. A lot of people kill themself out of anger, spite. It’s like shaking a fist up to the sky holding yourself hostage with a gun telling the universe if it doesn’t fix this shit you will end it! But the universe ain’t listening. It doesn’t care and if it does, it doesn’t respond to threats.

That’s why I have rules about it. I won’t kill myself out of avoidance. I need to finish my essays, clean my apartment, have every conflict squared away or at least have it not be a motivator.

It can’t be out of anger. My anger is irrational and not exactly cured with the kiss of death.

It can’t be half assed. I’ve got to want it with every fiber of my being. I have never wanted to die 100%. Maybe 96% but never ever 100%. Dying is traumatic as shit. Failing to die is a horrible experience. I never wanna feel that way again. I also have no one so if I failed I’d be stuck alone for a whileeeeee if I had done something incredible damaging. I’d have to call someone and I really have no one to call so that would just be embarrassing.

Anyways I still get that feeling a lot. I also get completely hopeless and just imagine getting all comfortable and doing it. But I’m here to tell you rn I’m not doing that! I promise! You do not need to worry! I have to want it with my whole heart! I never ever ever do!

#ed not sherran #tw ana diary #tw disordered eating #bul1m14 #ana trigger #anorexcya #bulimima #anorexigenic #tw ed diet #ed not ed sheeran

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hanzi83 · 11 months

Text

Scattered Thoughts

I was wondering how I would go about doing this, because a lot of my written shit is just to get some irrational shit off my chest and since the people who target me and harass me, and try to instill paranoia into a mentally ill man, they have had to die it down a bit more, which means they go into planning mode in private but when they are close to whatever their mission is, they will show what they are help creating. Before I documented their targeted harassment, they would flat out admit what kind of control they have and the resources they had to do what they can. But now they have to limit what they do and say but when they show up, especially one that posts on that Systemically Hanzi83 sub reddit, the white supremacist who hates that I became more socially conscious, so he has to project how he really feels about being pegged by minorities and projects it into me, but he is showing what he might be up to while presenting it like he just discovered this Chat GPT where they are showing there are a lot of misleading things about me. First it is about if I have been arrested, and if I had been arrested for threatening Howard’s kids in 2007, you think he would’ve let me on the show, like he wants crazy but you don’t think that information would’ve leaked online earlier. Not only have they spent the past creating fake images that are horribly edited, but if my name comes up in the discourse again, which is why they are doing this, because everyone at the top is gonna be exposed one day for the shady shit they have done, so if they anticipate Stern might be exposed and maybe some of the shit he put me through becomes a topic again, depends on how the powers that be are gonna market my trauma, but if you look up my name, most of the time it is negative shit or people reducing me to being fucking super crazy and being a violent threat. I never gotten violent other than having sibling fights when I was younger or had my own shitty backyard fed. But because these people are fucking racist, they deem any conspiratorial Pakistani a violent person, which is why the fed like accounts online can monitor me because they can say they have just cause because I used to be crazy on the Stern Show, and there was gonna be more support post Stern but I dind’t get lured into the new right wing sphere, they figured I would want any type of relevance if it meant getting support and even though being too online in the 2010’s and not trusting any establishment like media, I would fall for culture war reactionary shit as the be all end all, but people knew at my heart of hearts I never had evil intent. People have followed my pathetic journey over the last 15 years, they have seen where my mentally ill dumbed down mind has gone, and even though being conspiratorial puts me in the disadvantage of being accepted because everyone, even people on the left will generalize and put them all in the right wing bin. The reason being that in my personal opinion and my personal theory is that conspiracies are gonna come true and that is why some of the right wing embraces it a bit more so then guys like Alex Jones could get credit for being villainized when he isn’t the first one to spew the valid conspiracies he did 20 years ago. So these people figured I would be sucked in because I was already buying into internet narratives so much in the 2010’s and I had no one to talk to, they purposefully isolated me from people in my life, and kept me suppressed that it was like they wanted me to get radicalized, and the trolls who have fucking been around have tried to do that, whether it is pushing me to suicide, and hinting they are coming to my house and live streaming their drive, or the constant incentive to give people online I would interact with to say ignorant shit because they wanted to see if I would give it a pass if they were black, brown, women etc, and when I didn’t counter shit the racist reactionary way, they will make it seem like I am scared because I would go off on the white supremacist trolls who showed their mission of trying to fuck with me, and instilling paranoia and getting me to snap and then taking shit out of context or flat out lie. Then they get mad that I don’t want them on the podcast, because these sociopathic shit heads think because they have resources and they are protected, they think they are actual personalities. These people are scary jerk offs and I know I piss off a lot of people, so different areas of the internet will give incentive to these people to pop back up. I have my ideas, but they know I write about this in “private” and when they know I am having bad mental health days, they show up to take advantage of me being vulnerable because being open about my mental illness and the ugliness that it has entailed, they can’t do that, but their vulture like behavior becomes standard and cliche. So they want to keep triggering me. I know by me complaining about this, other social climbers will make fun of me for bitching about this, and they will say it is all for attention, if I go to authorities or get a lawyer, I can’t technically prove everything I am saying and when there is “evidence” of the levels of how this might exist, come out, it will be because it is designed to come out. Maybe it doesn’t, maybe I am destined to be pushed over the edge and maybe I just drop off and then after the fact, they will then vindicate my name and prostitute my memory when they could have investigated this shit, but everything has become sports entertainment so it only happens when the system can profit off it. So I know it seems like I bitch about this nonstop and people think I am the one who talks shit. People who want to be thought leaders put out shit and do pile ons on other cogs in the system and try to destroy people’s credibility and they help initiate people with ignorance etc, and it is not good enough they have me ignored in the discourse etc, which is fine, but they don’t like that I still go off in my little echochamber but they still pay attention and get triggered by what I say when they are the ones creating chaos but then they will make physical threats because that is what the system permits them to be that way and that is fine, but even if you beat the shit out of me, you will still have dangerous sociopaths controlling your lives who will make you soulless individuals. I might go off on other social climbers, but it is never personally against them because it is more about what the system turns people into. But then people represent for the system by wanting to socially climb up there where they will then be used for fodder and it won’ be so fucking fun.

I am going to go all over the map. So if you stumbled across this, just assume I am a dumbed down mental case who is going off “vibes” in my published blogs because I just write from the top but I hate having to write these kinds of blogs going over my progress and trying to become a lot more peaceful because they have tried to manifest me into becoming a violent person, and claiming that Stern Show made a deal with people in my life, so it keeps me on the edge and then has me really upset with people in my life so I snap because I can’t take it out on Stern, not that I would ever fucking approach him anyways, but they have had to spread rumors of me beating the fuck out of my parents and then these same people will then want to make peace so they can be in my life for some reason, it is like instead of telling me I might get vindication some day, they would rather act like they genuinely want to be friendly with me, even people from my past who have come off a bit more peaceful but then do and say undermining shit to make me feel like shit because the celebs and higher ups they want to fucking suck up to tell them to do that, and I have to sit there and pretend they are actually fucking funny because their group chat told them they were, and hate that I don’t want their help in writing material or I didn’t want them to cohost the podcast, or be my producer etc. They wouldn’t be doing that if they didn’t think eventually shit will come to light. But the way everyone is getting shittier and becoming a fucking sell out. So I look at who could be sending the trolls to plant shit about me, and I know I have pissed off people in the wrestling world, I know I have pissed off people in the alt media spaces, I know the Stern Show is constantly going to be a source of putting my name out to hint they are gonna kill me or they will come after me etc, even if they were lying, doing that shit to a mentally ill person because you can’t fucking get help for your fucking mental health issues, because some people with those issues who are too far gone are like Tony Soprano, where on a human level you don’t wish anyone that kind of mental misery but when you are tied to a mafia like life you will always try to accumulate more power and resources to use at your disposal to destroy people’s lives. And at a certain point I don’t give 2 shits about your issues. You will never get better because you will always be bound to this life where you are gonna constantly try and create chaos and play off valid issues going on in the world to hustle people for your grift. So I used to feel bad for some of these fucked up trolls but then when they show they are going to continue to say racist shit then claim I am the one who hates white people, because I have generalized at times instead of saying “the White system, or white people that reflect the white supremacy ideology” so they blasted my tweets on an app so a bunch of patriots could take note. And if people are looking into their posts etc, they will do bare minimum bashing of right wing politicians so I guess you could say they are liberals who are putting me through this. Maybe they actually feel that way but I notice when I have pointed out they lean further to the right. They have no issue pointing out that I am out of work or some shit knowing I am blackballed and not allowed to be given a job in the industry and act like I am not doing anything on my own volition.

I wouldn’t put it past people in the “alt media” like TYT to kind of be behind some of that shit since I have been going off on their right wing grift. If they admitted what they were turning into and I know a lot of people in the left space still give them benefit of the doubt that they are just making some bad mistakes, they are showing more and more that they are becoming right wing apologists, and not because they criticize democrats, but I have suspected this was always the grift, because so many people they have made in their platform have been going more to the right wing and through sports entertainment, we think they are at each other’s throats but it forces you to make a choice, but they are all meeting in a mutual meeting spot when the world turns into a fascist place, like it isn’t already getting there and people are making it known, and the symbolism of people being canceled ensures they will be saved by the right wing but it also makes the “left” look crazy because they are the ones doing it even though the right wing is manufacturing more shitty culture wars and using propped up sports entertainment viral shit to prove their point and because the alt media covers it I am supposed to not question it because I am supposed to buy into their “MSM is shit” narrative which everyone knows by now but the MSM is so shit, that they can’t talk about anything else. Like if you are so good at what you do, you would not need to preface your takes as “YOU WON’T HEAR THIS ON MSM” and I don’t regularly watch MSM because the last 10 year a bunch of fake anti war people said it was shit, and they used a 90’s aesthetic to act like someone criticizing MSM is the biggest own when people consume news online more than ever. But the thing is these shows are doing establishment like takes, so all that calling out the system over the last decade to sell your souls to become soulless cartoonish people who focus on being more of a sports entertainer doing comedy banter, because we need more Trump impressions, we need more shit of Ana Kasparian reiterating that if Trump was not running for office she would follow his comedy career, like someone who you know has aspirations for fascism, like him and DeSantis, should not need to have “Well to be fair to him” like you can acknowledge these people are smarter than people like to think they are since we have America’s dumbest criminal syndrome. But they have to buy into the shitty sports entertainment, and then get shocked that DeSantis would pardon Trump, which then shits on the analysis from these people because they are too busy slapping their knee at the name “MEATBALL RON” like your taste in humor is complete shit, like even if you bought into Trump’s shtick of being an edge lord with no filter, hasn’t that shit run its course, it is not genuine, it is more manufactured but I notice a lot of people who claim to be left on these platforms have to always downplay Trump and DeSantis, and everything has to revolve around fucking comedy. Like people are gonna fucking die from this sports entertainment into fascism road these people are, and we have to buy into fake sports entertainment so we have to be forced to choose a side in the argument when we shouldn’t give a shit about them, and it feels like TYT especially is doing free promo for the campaign while pretending they are covering the candidates feuding and you people are supposed to be more credible, they hate that they are not considered progressives and then they go on platforms that are bigger to represent for progressives and blame the general left for culture wars when these assholes have started culture wars. Ana is becoming much more unhinged than Cenk in this case, look at how she covered this propped up story with the citibike Karen, and listen I always thought these Karen videos have always been sports entertainment, since people are given incentive for digital currency that is valuable to these people, to go viral for shit and then we think that could not possibly be orchestrated, but TYT didn’t mind getting on the trend when it was to ride the BLM wave to show they are progressive but since the protests in 2020, it feels like there is a push to push back at any claim of racism, so they advertise these DEI seminars which technically are happening but since everything has to be like a reality show and a nonstop comedy, it has to be there designed to fall flat on its face for the online contingent to push back on even though they are funded online to make it seem like diversity is getting out of control, the system is so racist that these super extreme examples to make black people look bad in these situations is designed for people to think diversity and inclusion is becoming more extreme. They will chastise others in how they protest and thinks they can dictate how people on the left will act but they are more focused on being fair to people who have fascist aspirations, they know the system is a far right wing trajectory system like they are the ones who book the world champions in wrestling analogy and you know they have been paying attention to my podcasts and blogs because they were kind of spoofing the wrestling references and me sitting there getting flustered they would compare Tucker and Trump to Road Warriors going to WWE and feuded with the Wild Samoans, like the fucking Legion of Doom never feuded with the Wild Samoans in their first WWE run you stupid son of a bitch. But they are clearly paying attention to what I am saying, they have resources and connections to have shit I say monitored. But I am not picking a fight but I hate people who want to sell out so badly and sophisticate new racist talking points and then pretend you are progressive when that ship has sailed. Now my trolls get giddy that I am upset that more people will turn further to the right wing. It makes me question the path people I know from my past, and it is like why would I want to be here if everyone is gonna throw on an NWO shirt at some point. It could be wrestling people too because I do talk shit to the general discourse because it has been so propped up and they are bigger examples of people who hate the “MSM” which would be WWE in this case but then they do their own establishment narratives because they want to dictate the discourse and people will pretend they don’t take the fandom seriously but when literally everyone is trying to become a sports entertainment to help carry on a worked shoot angle that caters to one man’s ego, so acting like the online narratives are more genuine any more than the WWE level narratives, it becomes a laughing stock to me. I have tried to move away from this but my mental illness and me being beholden to being invested into entertainment will never go away because we are all fucking trapped into this shit, it is not about discussing and moving discourse forward with analysis, it is about facilitating people playing characters online who have to have controversial takes so it gets dunked on. It feels like shit is created to be a story so we can continuously justify a 24/7 news cycle and I wish I could make a clean break from it, but time and time has proven I am a mentally weak person. This is why I would prefer not to be here because how can I really get better in a world that is getting worse, we have allowed the manufactured and organized shit online to seem like it is completely genuine because it seems like it is real, or it genuinely happened and it helps manufacture consent from people taking in culture war discourse to not give a shit that really fucked up laws are being signed to help erase people from existence. But people who have to pretend they are just going at the democrats solely and then giving the props to the right wing for the bare minimum when the system in general has a right leaning bias, even if they might go “woke” about a topic or two, so there is no point in giving people like that credit when it is already in their favor, they don’t think that because they don’t view being online and pretending that shit that becomes “news” and topics of the day, is 100 percent legit and it could not be created by billionaires who might fund this kind of chaos, these people let us know who they are with their vitriol and they are making people’s lives a living hell, and you are gonna tone police how people would feel from this shit and then pretend you give a shit about people from marginalized communities and you think you can beat them with ideas knowing that anyone on the left side will not get to go at the right wing talking points a lot better than some of the shitty MSM personalities who do slight pusbacks, but the ignorant point of view still dominates. They think because the system pretends to be “woke” about some shit, that the opposing opinion is not wanted, when you are all probably being funded to spew that talking point.

I know this is a mess of a blog but the people who hate me who read this probably had their mind go all over the place reading this shit, but I am writing this at 5 am in the morning and I just needed to get random shit off my chest but the trolls stalking me and trying to make my mental psyche a bit more rocky always lure me into this shit because they need to be talked about on some level, even by a fucking former whack packer on the Stern Show who has not been relevant since 2016. But time to time I will admit it throws me off my mental a bit that these people will try to fuck with me and then because I assume a bunch of other high up people assign these people to do this shit, it makes me question everyone and everything which is probably by design, but you see most people who don’t feel comfortable with their thoughts would not to admit these kinds of thoughts exist because being vulnerable about your mental illness will ensure people will come at you but being disrespected all through my existence and taking nonstop L’s in this lifetime, I know how to handle it better but me saying one thing will make you lose your noodle because you aren’t used to have to analyze yourself, it is the scariest shit in the world to be alone with your thoughts and I have because I had no choice but now I can embrace it a bit more because I can take a lot of mental anguish, more so than a lot of fucking funded people out there, because the funded people put so much effort into looking good and making sure their reputations are in tact, you put so much energy into that, they won’t ever self analyze. The aesthetic me and how horrible I look to the basic civilian out there represents what a lot of you in the system look like on your insides. The funniest is that these fucked up people doing the system’s bidding had to monitor me write this and they are then gonna have to read it again when I post it. They know no one is gonna believe me, that is their only solace that no one has my back and that is fine, so this is just a mentally ill person who expresses his irrational thoughts at my own detriment because it makes me look like the insane one, not the system that has these people at their disposal to make me feel like utter shit, selling my information to people in higher positions in the entertainment and political world because these people sold their souls to be soulless monsters and their only saving grace is what, having another entertainment persona so you all can practice being sitcom characters you enjoy watching. This is what I mean when I say out of all the entertainment that exists, comedy is probably the most damaging, these people won’t give you the grim reality that is coming but we have to levitate shit with comedic banter and buying into sports entertainment in fighting so they dominate the fucking news cycle. Not every alt media place has gone that far, but at one point I didn’t think certain people on the “left” would go that fucking far and they ended up becoming predictable boring edge lords trying to be fair to the “right” under the guise of working class and there is nothing wrong with supporting the working class, but when you use propped up figures who have far right ties and you don’t ask tough questions. Jimmy Dore would be promoting the convoy earlier this year but did he talk about the truckers who got fucked over because of the convoy shit taking over the entire discourse? You can just say shit and claim you are a leftist and we automatically are supposed to believe you because the MSM is dog shit in their coverage so now a bunch of alt media people who are aligned with billionaires then get to pretend because they look like the man of the people that they represent. The trolls are fucking with my computer as I write this, they are slowing it down a bit and it is like they already can’t handle me talking shit about them so they can’t make it overly obvious so it clearly is bothering them because they think when I am not feeling mentally well, they got a perfect situation to amplify the paranoia in hopes I will lose my mind even more, but then they get triggered by me writing this down and at this current time I am writing this, it has not been published, but they know that even though I cannot prove everything other than what is documented, they get worried someone might stumble upon this and might actually look into what they might be up to. I don’t get it though, you guys have the connections and resources, why wouldn’t you be happy? Maybe it sucks to know at the end of the day the people doing dirt for people at a higher level will be used for future sacrifices and the promises made to you are not gonna be fulfilled. The system doesn’t let you be a mercenary for the goodness out of their heart. But again this is just delusional talk from a mentally unwell man, you are better off listening to other mentally unwell people who have to pretend to be thought leaders in their circles and you can tell they can’t handle the criticism because you are supposed to believe they are anti war and anti establishment, that is what these people have going for them but if you found out for real they are being funded in this current age in different areas, suddenly all these guys are no better than the establishment they claim to fucking hate.

#hanzi 2023 bipolarcoaster bipolar coaster trolls Stern Show Howard politics wrestling mental illness opinions theories notallfacts

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saltypiss · 1 year

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Men are disproportionately arrested in general. Or murdered. Or die in general.

What does it mean. What does it matter. There's hundreds of little topics everyone is discussing already that flood such sentences to the point there is no argument being made, just pointing out reality for the actual sake of doing so.

Women commit suicide far more than men, women are more likely to win in parental cases, women aren't arrested nearly as often.

Again, what does this do? We already have the mini topics being discussed, this is an amalgomation of everything that doesn't make you look smart.

I think that's what people need to realize. You're not smart for pointing out the obvious. You're not smart for mentioning it and running away. You're not smart when all you can do is point out flaws with no fixes.

So, I ask of you, what is the purpose, what is smart about it, and what does it accomplish, pointing out that all mass shootings have been by men.

Now don't misconstrue me here, I too see the statistic, and would like to be informed on why. Except I already am because since 2013 the internet has had a boner for discussing every topic into a political umbrella as possible.

So I know that Men have less mental healthcare, Men have less emotional resources, Men are belittled, mocked, and thrown away like trash for crying or showing anything other than masculine bravado. I know that Men are disproportionately arrested by police, I know that divorce is worse for Men. I've talked to men who's lives were upended by a false claim from a women and the court took her side until it became obvious it was a lie.

I've talked to men. Actually discussed and discourced with them. I actually know what a majority of men go through. Not just because it's been endlessly discussed since 2013, but because I and every possible male has lived it.

I don't hear about women losing their kids to an insane man who ends up killing them later after a court custody battle allowed the child to go with the obvious worst choice. I do hear about men in general getting their entire life upended over false claims of any variety. You know what else I hear about Men? Total lack of a support system.

Know what else I hear about Men? A constant struggle to not have the wrong perception of you, because that can mean your entire life.

Men have to pay alimony even in ridiculous circumstances. Men lose their kids more often than women.

So with all this said, that hardly scratches any surface, it's far closer to pointing at the moon, Why is it, that all the mass shootings this year, have been done by men?

I mean, it's not like our systems give a fuck about men. It's not like Men have any outlets. It's not like Men are allowed to emotionally process without a court of law calling it irrational when they mean unmanly. It's not like the economy is destroyed, and women have ample opportunities for housing and mental healthcare, friends that'll take em in. There's women only homeless shelters, for a reason yes, but it goes to show.

Is the problem men? Personally, not trying to "both sides" this shit, but personally, I don't think inherently Men are all shooters, murderers and pedophiles. I think, and stick with me here, this country is broken from culture to government, from social to independant, this country is fucked. And despite progress socially, men are still the breadwinners in a majority of families. They are also, culturally pressured to be successful, rich, leave a legacy, own property and capitol, etc etc.

Women aren't expected shit culturally but being birth machines, and as fucked up as that is, no woman is going on a killing spree because of it. It's simply no where near the same pressure as males have to deal with. That's not to be offensive or to put down women, obviously there's shades of grey, but culturally, what are women really expected to accomplish? Get with a man, have a kid maybe.

So no. I don't see any importance in kicking in a door, dropping the statistic with literally no follow through, and running away screaming. I don't see the importance in devilizing all men and putting this weight onto them as if it's in their control.

Tell ya what, when the council of women can stop other women from false rape reports, the council of men will consider letting one (1) women commit a mass shooting.

Fuckin ridiculous. Drop statistics just to demonize. Why not just drop "despite making up" too? Wanna just look at numbers and ignore context? Did anyone who read that tweet ever speak to a man about their mental health and other slew of problems? No. They don't experience it, so don't care. The hypocrisy of feminism is not understanding the injustices of men to the point that when they see any man that breaks, or is unmanly, they are childish and unreasonable. Potentially murderous. They have no problems, they're on top! Those on top never deal with problems! (You're thinking of the rich, not men)

Really the only question that comes to everyone's mind is "what is wrong with men" much like the 13% argument also only leaves the same question to those of african descent. So. Why is it okay now? Why is it okay to point at a statistic without any surrounding information, frame it as poorly as you possibly can, unless you're just wanting to cause division between multiple groups?

It's not frustrating that it's men, I'd be annoyed regardless, animals, women, PoC, real statistics or not, what's frustrating is thinking you're smart for noticing a statistic, but not actually smart enough to offer anything but the number. Why? Answer that then post. Otherwise, it's just divisive and immature.

We went backwards because of that dipshit's tweet. It singlehandedly pushed republicans back further being posted unironically by lefties and to various lefty forums. Nobody. I repeat. N o b o d y, learned from this tweet. Nothing was gained by hostility. Just so they could feel smart. Totally worth the tweeter points...

#just boggles the mind #do women really simply not understand how much shit men deal with on a daily?#have women ever had to hold in tears before #for their entire life #have women ever had a false report tank their career and leave them homeless?#have women ever spoken to a divorced woman that goes on to explain how fucked up it was and they lost their kids despite the other parent #being a methhead?#have women #ever #spoken to men about their problems #the answer is unfortunately very much mostly no #because men speaking about their emotions gets their life upended #women and men #all races and ages #are not connected remotely as much as people seem to somehow believe #we're disconnected as fuck and our government fucks us all over in some way that causes sharp social issues and more #besides I thought we were going to be discussing the real problem with mass shootings #republicans #and guns #not men #fucks sake #the suicide by gun statistics is relevant too but meh #men #gotta focus on the REAL problems #not government failures #not social failures #not police failures #not cultural failures #just the council of men gatekeeping mass shootings #disturbed shit I simply will not understand

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By My Side (Part 8)

Summary: Jensen and the reader still feel as though something is wrong even after securing the team of people hired to come after them. But the pair will come to discover the threat has always been someone they never considered and some of their most important assumptions have been wrong the whole time...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: language, angst, lying

A/N: Enjoy! ;)

_________

“Something seem odd about this whole thing or is it just me,” mumbled Jensen to you about an hour later back home, the team that was ready to come to your house that night in custody after they were seen at the same location the guy the night before came from.

“I think this guy knows we’d find the team. He’s still ahead of us,” you said.

“What’s the least rational thing we could do right now?” he asked.

“Go to the baby shower.”

“Then let’s go to the baby shower.”

“It’s already over.”

“Is there any Hollywood party or something tonight?”

“There’s a client manager party downtown,” you said. He smiled and you shook your head. “That’s way too dangerous.”

“Which is why he thinks we’d never go. He’s anticipating our rational moves so let’s be irrational,” said Jensen. “Let’s go out to a big party we couldn’t ever hope to control.”

“You think he’ll show up?” you asked.

“Tweet that you’re getting ready to head to the party right now. He’s gonna think you believe you’re in the clear and I got a feeling he’ll move in on his own,” said Jensen.

“You’ll need a tux,” you said.

“This is the part you’re not gonna like. I think you gotta go in alone,” he said. You swallowed but nodded. “You got this. Just don’t wear heels...and bring that knife I gave you.”

“What are you planning?” you asked.

“When you eliminate suspects, the impossible has to be the truth,” he said.

“I don’t get it.”

“I think I know who wants you, Y/N.”

“Who?” you asked. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath as the doorbell rang. Charlie answered the door, your parents and step-brothers walking in all looking very confused.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen to your mom, cutting them off when they all started to speak at once. “Why don’t you explain what exactly happened to your first husband, Brian?”

“I don’t understand,” she said. She looked at you and you cocked your head. “Brian died years ago.”

“Yes, he did,” said Jensen, giving Chuck a harsh look. “Surprised you came here.”

“Excuse me?” he scoffed.

“Y/N’s life wasn’t in any danger until your wife started talking about moving out here, isn’t that right,” said Jensen. “I wonder why that is.”

“What the hell are you accusing me of? Trying to kill my daughter?”

“Oh, a lot worse than that,” said Jensen. “Guys.”

Jared and Benny were pushing the rest of your family away from Chuck quickly, Chuck’s face dark and his eyes nearly black looking.

“Jensen,” you said. “Chuck wouldn’t…” you trailed off, a foggy memory itching at the back of your skull. “You put the pool cover over me once when I was swimming, right when you and mom started dating.”

“That was an accident.”

“I don’t think so,” you said, grabbing your mom’s hand and pulling her over to you.

“You used to hit us,” said Michael. You and your mom’s head’s whipped in his direction, Michael frowning. “When we were kids. You called it tough love but everything I know now as a lawyer, everything Nick knows from school psychology…”

He and Nick took a few steps away from their father, Chuck rolling his eyes.

“Guys! That was mom and I’s decision and yeah I screwed up and regret ever doing it but that’s all it was. Y/N, the pool was an accident and I was the one that pulled you out. You-”

“To make you look like a hero,” you said. “Was that your plan this time? Kidnap me, miraculously get in contact with the kidnapper and save me?”

“No! I would never hurt you, kiddo, you know-”

“But you’d hurt your sons,” you said. You looked over to Nick, swallowing to yourself. He nodded and you took a deep breath. “Nick was suicidal and you used to make jokes about that stuff. Did you know?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? No!” said Chuck, Michael’s face white as he looked at his brother.

“Nicky?” he said quietly.

“I’m better now. It was a long time ago,” said Nick.

“Boys, come here,” said your mom, the both of them getting away from their father, a few other members of Jensen’s old unit putting themselves between your family and Chuck. She gave Nick a hug and Michael too, shooting Chuck a dirty look. “I asked you about Nick years ago. You said you’d talked to him and he was okay. It was girl problems you said and you didn’t want me bringing it up to him.”

“He never did that,” said Nick. Chuck threw up his hands and spun around, placing his hands on his hips.

“Did you kill mom?” asked Michael. “Did you?”

Chuck turned back, face red and you laughed, his gaze turning on you.

“She died in a car accident for fucks sakes! Nick almost died too! I would never hurt her.”

“You’re a good actor but not that good,” you said. “He’s lying about something.”

“This bodyguard, this fucked up guy-” said Chuck, shaking his head. “He’s insane and he’s feeding into all of this. None of it is true. None of it. I should have talked to Nick instead of brushing it under the rug but-”

“Call my friend fucked up again and see what happens,” said Jared, his eyes narrowing.

“What is happening! This is all insane!” said Chuck.

“How did you meet Chuck?” asked Jensen to your mom. “He meet you on a bad day? Do something very gentlemanly but it reminded you of Brian?”

“How do you know that,” she asked quietly. Jensen nodded and took a deep breath. She shook her head and he sighed. “He...Brian saved a woman from a mugging.”

“A mugging that was staged,” said Jensen. “Chuck wanted you. He wanted your attention. His wife was in the way. Your husband. The kids would have been too much so he left them alone, left the three of them to raise themselves. Now that you might be close to Y/N again, the idea of sharing you like any other sane person on the planet got to be a bit too much, didn’t it Chuck?”

“I don’t know where you came up with this crazy idea to turn my family against me, kid,” said Chuck. “None of that is true. It’s all a crazy theory in his head! I’m not perfect, I never said I was. But I love my family. I loved my wife. He’s the one with the insane theories. He’s the one that’s nuts. The guy was freaking tortured for a month, you think he’s gonna be all there after that?”

“How would you know that,” asked Jensen, keeping his head high as you stared at him and swallowed, thinking of the small scar on his back. “No one aside from my old team members and military personnel would know that. Wouldn’t even pop up on a background check. Y/N doesn’t even know that. But somehow her family man step-father does. I think we’d all be curious to know how it is you know so much about me, Chuck. Big fan? Or was I supposed to get the treatment some other family members got, hm?”

“What are you talking about? You told me!” said Chuck.

“I never-”

“You called me the other night and we got talking and you told me a bit about your background and-” said Chuck, Jensen turning around. “You’re saying that wasn’t you cause it sounded a hell of a lot-”

“No, Chuck, it wasn’t him,” you said. “What is going on, Jensen?”

“The impossible,” said Jensen, his head turning in every direction. “I was right about it being your dad. I was wrong about what one though.”

Quiet footsteps came from down the hall, a tall figure popping out into view.

“Everybody went to such a fuss for me it seems,” he said.

“Brian?” asked your mom, eyes wide.

“Dad?” you said. He smiled and you returned it, walking over to him, Chuck grabbing you quickly before Jensen could and shoving you back at him.

“Thanks,” said Jensen, Chuck still scowling.

“Oh, you’re on my shit list for a long time after tonight,” said Chuck.

“Understood,” said Jensen. You didn’t understand and tried to move away but Jensen pinned you back against his chest.

“Jensen, it’s my dad. I want-”

“S’okay, buttercup. I think your boyfriend is a little confused is all. Nothing nefarious is going on at all,” he said.

“But...the team and the guy that broke in…” you said.

“Actors hired by your bodyguard to perpetuate this fantasy he has of escalating the supposed danger in your life.”

“But I shot a guy last night,” you said.

“With a rubber bullet. He was fine. Have you ever been in any real danger? Or just think you were?” he asked.

“Where have you been?” asked your mom as you moved away from Jensen.

“Witness protection. Mugging I got involved in had to do with some drug syndicate. Very, messy, brutal, scary men that would do horrible things to you girls if they knew I had a family. I had to die and go live a new life,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m happy you found Chuck and the boys. You guys deserved to be happy.”

You looked back at Jensen and he shook his head.

“I’m not wrong. It’s…” trailed off Jensen. “Somebody’s lying but it’s not me.”

“You were wrong about Chuck just now. You accused him and made us all think...and now you’re going after my dad just like that.”

“I knew it had to be your father. I assumed it was the one I thought was alive. It’s got to be Brian then. It has to be.”

“You’ve been wrong a lot,” said Chuck. “It’s entirely possible your boyfriend wanted to be the hero, Y/N, not me. Save a rising Hollywood star? I’m sure that looks good on a resume.”

“Y/N,” said Jensen as everyone cleared away from him. You shrugged when he tried to touch your arm, inching back. “Y/N, I told you this guy is smart. Smarter than me. This was his goal all along, to make you not trust me and get you alone.”

“Charlie, can you please look up and see if my father was in witness protection,” you asked. She hummed and the house was quiet for a few minutes until she walked back over with her computer. “Yes?”

“He got out just recently. He’s been job searching. Your manager appears to have just hired him this week for lawn maintenance. He was supposed to start his first shift tomorrow morning which explains how he got inside,” she said quietly.

“I was going to surprise you,” said your dad. “I actually am a heck of a landscaper now.”

“You were a software engineer,” said your mom.

“I didn’t get to choose my job exactly,” he chuckled softly.

“Y/N, just because he was in witness protection-”

“Jensen, please be quiet,” you said. He snapped his jaw shut but you saw his eyes pleading for you to believe him. “Jared, help Jensen pack his things. I no longer require his services. Leave now Jensen and I won’t press charges for this charade.”

“Y/N, I swear,” said Jensen, quickly glancing at his former teammates. “Guys, you know I wouldn’t-”

“You don’t make mistakes like that,” said Ash quietly. “I’ve never seen you make a mistake that big.”

“Unless you did it on purpose,” said Benny. “For what? I don’t know. Impress the girl? I don’t know what’s going through your head, brother.”

“Jared…” said Jensen but Jared kept his head down.

“Pack up your stuff Jensen. Don’t make us do it for you.”

Jensen dropped his head but headed up to his room. You excused yourself outside for some air and jogged around to the side of the house, throwing a few pebbles at the window. It opened after a minute and Jensen poked his head outside.

“I believe you!” you said as loudly as you dared. His face instantly relaxed and he dropped his head down. “Sorry, I had to make it seem like I didn’t. I don’t buy my dad coming back magically just like that.”

“God, you don’t know how happy I am to hear that,” he said just as you saw Jared round the corner. You stared at him and he looked up, a small smile breaking onto his face. “You were acting too?”

“Of course. We all were. Brian’s shady as fuck, especially with somehow already being in the house? Let’s let him keep thinking he has the upper hand and then we get him when the timing is right,” said Jared.

“Jens,” you said, as he nodded. “I don’t care if you got kidnapped and tortured or anything you know. You’re still the strongest guy in the world to me.”

He smiled and you heard Jared groan beside you.

“Get a room you two,” he said.

“Jared, you watch her ass for me,” said Jensen.

“I will. Stick close by. We’re gonna need you when Brian shows his true colors.”

“Do you think he’ll hurt me?” you asked.

“No,” said Jensen. “I think he wants the time he lost with you back but he’s different now. Either way, I want to find out how someone in witness protection got my personnel file.”

“We’ll find out. Maybe think of ways to apologize to Chuck while you’re at it. We’re in for an awkward thanksgiving from the sounds of it,” you said.

“Yeah, sorry about the whole...accusing your step dad of murder thing. He didn’t make the best case for himself,” he said.

“I’m okay with it. He’ll forgive you. He wasn’t the world’s best dad anyways. Still better than Brian though it seems.”

“Sorry you got all the shitty luck,” said Jensen.

“It’s alright. Be safe, Jay,” you said.

“You too guys. I’ll be close by. Hopefully I won’t be gone for long.”

The Next Morning

“Hey,” you said, Jared giving you a nod from the kitchen island. “Where’s my dad?”

“Having coffee out back. I sent the team to my house to crash and get some work done,” he said with a look. “It’s just your family here apart from me.”

“I need to be alone with him Jared if he’s going to make a move,” you said.

“I’d much rather we let the team research and find out how he got Jensen’s file and paid for those people to come and take you first. We get evidence, that’s all we need and it avoids you being kidnapped.”

“Or we isolate me and I get close to him and make him think I hate the rest of them and he won’t drag me off to the middle of nowhere. It’d just be me and him here,” you said.

“Go slow with it,” he said. “For all our sakes.”

“I understand,” you said. Jared finished off his cup of coffee and stood up. “Did you ever doubt Jensen?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve had a gut feeling about him since I met him. A good one.”

“Gen and I talk about you two. You look at each other...even when you weren’t getting along, we knew. You’re both as much as suckers as we were at the stage in the game,” he said.

“I’m happy you got him out of whatever bad place he was in,” you said.

“I got him physically out. The mental scars, those don’t go away. But he seems to forget about them a lot more since he’s hung around with you,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, he was doing okay and relatively happy. But last night...that meant the world to him that you still have faith in him.”

“I never stopped,” you said.

“Y/N, the reason he got in that shitty position in the first place is because he’s a good person that wouldn’t be swayed to do the wrong thing. He knew when he was going against his unit he was setting himself up for a world of pain. He respects good people being good more than you can realize.”

“Keep an eye on him for me until this done?”

“Always do,” he said. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks.”

You headed outside and found your dad sitting at the patio table, a cup of half drunk coffee set on the glass top.

“Morning,” you said, taking a seat beside him. He smiled and made some more space for you.

“Morning. Sleep okay?” he asked.

“Not really. Last night was intense,” you said. He lowered his head and played with the mug for a moment. “Dad.”

“If I told you a secret, would you keep it from your boyfriend?” he asked. You swallowed and he smirked. “It’s not going to take too long for your friends to find out my witness protection story is bullshit.”

“What’s the real story,” you said, sliding your pocket knife out of your pocket.

“Good. You carry a weapon on you,” he said, taking another sip of coffee. “This is good shit.”

“It’s imported. What’s the real story dad. Who wants to hurt me?” you asked.

“Your original manager did that whole event for a publicity stunt. It’s a separate event from what’s happening now. You were unfortunate, or fortunate depending on how you look at it, to have hired Jensen as your bodyguard. The kid needs you.”

“He’s the target, isn’t he, not me.”

“Yes. He’s always been the target. Why do you think they tried to knock you out and secure him? He’s the one they want.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read the police file.”

“How-”

“Y/N, I was never a software engineer. Your mother and you thought I was. You guys thought I was regular Brian. Regular little league coach, regular brags about his burgers on the grill, above average nerdy Brian. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all those things but there was a part of my life you never knew about.”

“Why arere you here?” you asked quietly.

“I had a different job but after the mugging, that’s all it was, I was injured and it got to the point of I could stop my job completely or I could put my wife and child through an inexcusable amount of pain and do something to help people, something no one ever knows about.”

“Daddy, what’s your job?”

“I protect people like Jensen. The good guys. The ones that stop crimes and do what’s right. I’ve been tailing him the past six months. Someone from his past was going to come back which is how he got on my radar and sadly they are very much after him. My job is to stop those people before my protectee even knows I exist. This is a unique situation with you being here though so we changed game plans and I exposed myself. I had to isolate Jensen. He’ll be targeted and my team will be waiting to catch this guy.”

“How do I believe you?” you asked.

“Kiddo, it’s okay if you don’t believe me. I’ve gotten used to the fact that I lost you a long time ago. I know I fucked things up with mom and the boys and Chuck and there was a lot of manipulation on my end too to get Jensen to make the assumptions he did last night. They were good assumptions, Y/N and I led him down that path without him realizing. I’m sorry for that. But my job is to make sure he stays safe and that’s all I can do.”

“I gave him your hoodie,” you said, putting the knife away and crossing your arms. “It was supposed to be your birthday present.”

“I saw it in your closet when I was doing laundry that day the mugging happened. Looks better on him,” he said.

“What, you a spy or some shit,” you said.

“I was a simple...analyst if we want to call it that,” he said. “Desk job. Completely safe. I didn’t start running around in dark corners until later. The mugging was just a mugging. I wanted to help that woman and I nearly died for it. On paper I had to. Life wasn’t supposed to go this way but it’s how it went. I choose that over you and mom and I’m sorry.”

“What makes Jensen so special?”

“He stopped a lot of people from getting killed because he wouldn’t accept an enormously large and tempting payout. He turned in his entire team. His team didn’t like that and contacted a group of bad people, told them he was the one that fucked up their plans before they all got arrested. He got jumped coming back from dinner out one night. One of those team members recently got parole for providing very important information on another case. Jensen was then at risk at that point. He got this other guy thrown in a shithole and it was Jensen’s presumption that he’d never be released and sadly that’s not the case. My group watches those at risk people and we intervene if revenge seems likely.”

“You make it really hard to be pissed off at you for everything when you’re like, trying to save my boyfriend,” you said.

“I was at your graduation,” he said. You turned your head and he smiled. “And your first day on set of your show. I might have veered Chuck into mom’s life after a chat at a bar. I thought he’d be good to her.”

“Why didn’t you just come out of the shadows?” you asked.

“Because the world unfortunately needs people to do what I do. It’s not glamorous. No one knows we exist. But it’s important. It’s important that people that do the right thing have the opportunity to live good lives.”

“Once again, how do I trust that you’re telling the truth?” you asked.

“You don’t have to trust me. It’s okay. I’m sure this individual will make a move on Jensen this morning. When Jensen walks back in this house, you’ll know I was telling the truth.”

“If you’re telling the truth, then what? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m getting kind of old to be running around,” he smiled. “I’m looking at retirement. Maybe a little cabin up near Seattle. I wouldn’t mind that.”

“LA’s big,” you heard behind you. “I’m sure we could find room for you here.”

You turned in your seat and saw Jensen standing there, a tired smile on his face.

“You could have let me in on the secret, Brian,” said Jensen as he gave you a hug and quick kiss. “Instead of making me look like a jackass last night.”

“Had to get you alone. Sorry about that,” he said. Jensen took a seat beside you, leaning forward and staring at him. “Hall’s dealt with I assume.”

“He was the only one left,” said Jensen. “How did you ever even know about me?”

“Don’t ask questions you know I can’t answer,” he said. “Sorry for using you as bait.”

“Better me than her,” said Jensen.

“I better get out of here,” he said, getting to his feet. You hopped up, your dad stopping in his tracks. “What?”

“You gotta explain to everybody what happened. Everybody,” you said.

“Alright. It’s probably best if I leave after that though,” he said. “I got involved too much as is.”

“If you’re retiring, why can’t you stay?” asked Jensen. “I eavesdropped.”

“I’m not cruel,” he said. “My wife and daughter moved on.”

“You’ve missed the past twenty years of my life. Since I was eight years old you were gone. I don’t want you to go,” you said.

“I can do so much, Y/N. But I can’t watch your mom love another man up close and personal like that all the time. I wouldn’t do it to them.”

“I think after everything, she gets what she wants, Brian,” said Jensen. “Your family is much more resilient than you give them credit for.”

“I have a few loose ends to tie up but I’ll be around more,” he said. He looked inside through the back door and nodded. “People are waking up. I think if we’re gonna do this, might as well do it now.”

“Dad,” you said as he walked inside. “I knew you were lying last night but I didn’t think you were a bad guy if that makes sense.”

“Really?” he asked.

“She takes after her brave and loyal father,” said Jensen, his arms wrapping you. “Sue her.”

“Alright, alright. You’re making coffee kid. I’m gonna need more to get through this.”

______

A/N: Read the Final part here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #au #bodyguard!AU #bodyguard!jensen #bodyguard!jensen x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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m-y-fandoms · 3 years

Text

1 Thing I Love & 1 Thing I Hate About EVERY Danganronpa Character Part 1

Part 2

SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE MAIN GAMES

I’d love to hear our opinions as well in the comments or my inbox or DM’s! If you try this trend with DR characters, tag me!

Sayaka Maizono

♡ Her passion for her career and friends.

✘ The way she tries to screw over Makoto when the game had just begun. Like wait and see what happens before screwing over such a great guy? Leon didn’t deserve it either.

Leon Kuwata

♡ His voice actor (English), and how real and human his execution was in that we all would be so scared and irrational. It was just so iconic and sad as it’s our first introduction to the death in this series and we all think: “shit, this is real... they are really killing these kids.” I didn’t think it would be that brutal, just seeing his body limp at the end with the haunting music.

✘ His design is disgusting. I hate how he looks.

Chihiro Fujisaki

♡ So innocent, so kind, so intelligent

✘ Shouldn’t have been killed for such a stupid reason, also they did Mondo dirty with that motive for killing as well. Just a mess. As for the actual character, Chihiro cries right off the bat when you do your introductions and that was kind of annoying to me personally.

Mondo Oowada

♡ He has a lot of respect, understanding and emotions for someone I thought would be a hard-ass douche biker.

✘ The worst motive to kill ever in a game where you know you’re getting executed if you’re found out. Like you’d be extra careful and that’s his reason to kill? Lazy writing.

Celestia Ludenberg

♡ Bad bitch energy and her goth lolita design.

✘ Manipulation and double murder. Bad bitch energy only goes so far. Confidence is different then selfishness. Also, of all the chapter 3 triple murders... the worst motive to kill.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

♡ Emotions: secure in his masculinity, able to cry, show emotions, and apologize when he’s wrong. He’s funny and likable.

✘ The Ishimondo white hair thing was stupid. Taka was fine on his own.

Hifumi Yamada

♡ Writing takes talent, fan fiction as much as any other style or genre. Also the talent of his voice actor (who also voices Kiibo/K1-B0).

✘ Literally everything else about him.

Sakura Oogami

♡ I love everything about her. I love her wisdom, loyalty, design, voice etc. Just step on me, mother.

✘ Why the hell would she ever agree to be a spy even if it meant the end of her dojo? I just don’t think she would do that rationally because she isn’t selfish. The others would suffer for her spying. She remedies this with redemption in her letter in chapter 4 but still she should’ve said no off the bat. Everyone had something to lose. The dojo wasn’t worth spying for monokuma. Also I just don’t think she would commit suicide. She can’t help the remaining students survive and redeem herself truly if she’s dead.

Kyoko Kirigiri

♡ Bad bitch energy, calm and collected when I could never be.

✘ Especially in future arc of the anime, damn can you show some emotion please? Through your words and expressions not just your actions. Sure she was willing to “die” for Makoto but like I just want more emotion from her sometimes, even in THH.

Makoto Naegi

♡ So pure. I Love Bryce Papenbrook. Makoto reminds me of Sora and I love his design.

✘ In THH I didn’t mind his innocence but in the Danganronpa 3 future arc anime, when people started straight up abusing him and accusing him, he needed to grow a little backbone.

Byakuya Togami

♡ Love my dad, king shit, also love how over the progression of the games and animes he becomes a little more kind to his friends.

✘ Why the fuck did he mess with Chihiro’s body? Just so cruel and disrespectful.

Yasuhiro Hagakure

♡ Funny magic man. Sexy voice.

✘ Please. Please Hiro use your brain just once. Why do we have to prove Kyoko isn’t a ghost?!

Toko Fukawa

♡ Character development in UDG and I love Genocider.

✘ Putting down herself and others constantly gets old in THH.

Aoi Asahina

♡ Love her voice actress and her personality

✘ We really just gonna get everyone killed in chapter 4 huh? Surely you know they don’t all deserve that.

Junko Enoshima

♡ A very memorable villain with great hair and design.

✘ I just can’t stand her. I hate her so much.

Mukuro Ikusaba

♡ Her mercenary background is super cool as a concept.

✘ Too bad it wasn’t explored nearly enough.

Hajime Hinata

♡ Seeing the protagonist be a little less naive, innocent and positive than Makoto was a refreshing change, although I loved Makoto. I liked Hajime’s cynicism and expressions that sometimes just screamed “this shit again, huh?”

✘ I enjoy the way Izuru looks but I hate him as a character. He is sexy to look at but Hajime is just a better character overall

Teruteru Hanamura

♡ His love for his family and mother especially is so cute and heart breaking if you know the full story.

✘ He needs to know when to dial it back and quit with the perversions. And no it’s not just how he looks, Miu needs to chill at times, too.

Twogami

♡ I feel like he genuinely cares about his friends, just hides it well

✘ His death felt like a cop out and poorly written. It just didn’t sit right with me. Also his design is disgusting to me, his outfit and such.

Mahiru Koizumi

♡ Loyal to her close friends.

✘ I just have no interest in her as a character and I find her boring.

Peko Pekoyama

♡ Loyalty. Loyalty is something I value very highly in every form of relationship. Peko is also very hot.

✘ Come on girl... I know how you were raised but you should’ve known Fuyuhiko didn’t think of you as just a tool and you two should’ve expressed your true feelings long ago. Like even in secret. How do you live like this? Also I feel like killing Mahiru could’ve been avoided with a calm talk.

Ibuki Mioda

♡ Cute design, positive vibes.

✘ Cringe sometimes in the way she talks.

Hiyoko Saionji

♡ Beautiful character design and some very good insults and snarky remarks at times.

✘ Just irredeemably mean and annoying. Even when you do her free time events she is just so annoying.

Mikan Tsumiki

♡ I like her design as well as her hair, expressions, sprites and clothing.

✘ I hate her. I just hate her whether she’s in her true psycho form or timid stuttering form. She’s just annoying in my opinion.

Nekomaru Nidai

♡ So supportive, can hold my drink at a party. Respects everyone and wants the best for them.

✘ Bro Mechamaru was a stupid plot point. I just couldn’t stand looking at him and couldn’t take it seriously. Still sad when he died though.

Chiaki Nanami

♡ From chapter 5 of sdr2 on she is impossible not to love if you didn’t already. Just the selflessness, the sadness of the reveal and execution, how she returns to help Hajime at the end???? I love her. I love her hair design, color palette, her personality, everything.

✘ I’m bitter and miserable about her being the only class member to actually die (the despair arc anime) also her falling asleep at random times is kind of odd and she doesn’t seem to be like that later on in the game??? Like it seemed like a cheap joke but not actually who she is? Hard for me to explain.

Gundham Tanaka

♡ King shit, couldn’t praise him enough. He’s sexy, loves animals, and is funny as hell sometimes. His voice actor is a saint and a cool dude and I named my guinea pigs after the Dark Devas (yes I know they are hamsters in the games.)

✘ Come on dude. I get that being from Hell and magic and having evil powers is your shtick, but we all know that you and Nekomaru sacrificed yourselves so the others wouldn’t starve. We know you care about your classmates. There comes a time when it’s time to let personas and facades fade and be true to your heart. I just feel like him denying he cared at the end hurt. We all know he cared. I didn’t like how he was haughty until the end. He deserved better. I love him.

Nagito Komaeda

♡ I love him so much. So cunning and intelligent, always a step ahead. And he’s big sexy.

✘ Him killing himself in chapter 5 hurt me so bad I was like in denial for days. Also hate how Bryce Papenbrook gives him a raspy stoner psycho voice in the game then a light airy higher-pitched voice in the despair arc anime. It just bothers me. I love his voice still but the inconsistency just hurts my OCD

Sonia Nevermind

♡ I love that she’s so interested in her passions and love her feelings for Gundham

✘ Her outfit and bow are atrocious. Also why didn’t she start liking and talking to Gundham sooner on? Their romance bloomed late and it would’ve made for a better chapter 4 ending if they were a bit closer.

Kazuichi Souda

♡ Cool design and outfit, love his voice (also voices Kaito in V3) and his backstory is relatable at times. He’s also very human in that he’s scared a lot of the time or insecure or blames others in panicked situations. It’s not always a good thing but it’s human and realistic.

✘ Gosh he can be so annoying. Sometimes flirting or whining too much is well... too much.

Akane Owari

♡ Strong-willed and definitely someone I would be friends with

✘ What the hell is her outfit? Gymnasts and athletes don’t wear that shit. Stop objectifying her when it doesn’t even make the product or plot better. Like there’s absolutely no point to making her dress that way. I was a gymnast for 15 years. Even those who do parkour (which Akane seems to do more often than actual gymnastics in the anime and game) don’t wear what she wears. Also she’s underrated.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

♡ I love him. He’s the DR character I’m most like out of all the games and anime. Tenko is a close second. I think he’s adorable, love his character arc, development, redemption, and love his voice.

✘ In the anime/despair arc, Fuyuhiko is not done justice. He doesn’t get enough lines, has a different voice actor, just doesn’t give off the same vibes.

Izuru Kamakura

♡ Sexy man long hair good.

✘ Boring character. I wish he were just Hajime.

Kaede Akamatsu

♡ Loyalty and leadership are such attractive qualities in her. Also she faced her death with such class and dignity and I respect her because I could never.

✘ Some of the voice lines Erika does for her are just weird and cringe. Just random moans or grunts... I don’t know it’s like when Ann Takamaki from Persona 5 (also voiced by Erika) makes suggestive noises as well. Just grinds my gears. Also hate her outfit down to the hair pins.

Shuichi Saihara

♡ I love his nasally voice. I love his design and he’s so adorable. I love how emotional and compassionate he can be. He ties with Makoto for favorite protag of mine.

✘ That sprite where he sniffs his hand. And his ugly ass hat.

Rantarou Amami

♡ Sexy man, sexy voice, sexy piercings

✘ Ugly outfit, and wasted potential

Ryoma Hoshi

♡ I respect him and feel bad for his outlook on life and for how poorly he views himself. I love his little hat as well and he’s the first “different styled” character (Hifumi, Bandai, Teruteru) that I liked the design of.

✘ I hate when he says “got a long ways to go,” it’s overused and annoying, and wish he gave himself more credit. Also hate that when you first meet him he warns you that he’s killed people and is dangerous to be around. Come on buddy, you know you wouldn’t hurt your friends. Stop pushing them away.

Kirumi Tojo

♡ Competence, well rounded, skillful

✘ Boring as hell. I wouldn’t waste one free time event on her.

Angie Yonaga

♡ Dark skin, super cute, love her talent as an artist myself.

✘ Gives religious people a bad name and is super manipulative which I hate.

Tenko Chabashira

♡ I relate to her and feel bad when she’s misunderstood. She’s a good person deep down. Also love her sprites.

✘ There’s more cunning, funny and clever ways to write her digs at men.

Korekiyo Shunguuji

♡ I’m in love with this man. Long hair, voice, mystery, mask, intelligence, passion, talent.

✘ He definitely was a victim of abuse and a lot of people refuse to see that and just hate him. Team Danganronpa should’ve given him a redemption arc where he realized his sister abused him and changed.

Gonta Gokuhara

♡ I love his design except for his suit. Also he’s so cute and naive. I cried for his trail.

✘ No need talk like caveman. Better way to do this.

Kokichi Ouma

♡ Like Nagito, I value his intelligence and crazy cunning.

✘ Shouldn't have died. Also shouldn’t have manipulated Gonta. That was just cruel.

Miu Iruma

♡ She has her hilarious moments and her death surprised me and was sad.

✘ Sometimes she lacks basic empathy, i.e. calling Tenko “Tencrotch” when she just fucking died.

Maki Harukawa

♡ Amazing character development. Didn’t see her surviving until the end at the start. Also her love and passion for Kaito.

✘ “Do you wanna die?” gets old.

Kaito Momota

♡ Just the overall best bro you could ever have.

✘ Has some toxic masculinity issues and anger issues.

K1-B0

♡ Pretty much everything about him. His design, his attitude and personality, especially how amazing and cool he is chapter 5 onward, his execution made me so sad. He’s so innocent and funny without trying.

✘ When you do his free time events he’s very arrogant and just talks about himself a lot... it seems odd and not similar to the Kiibo we see throughout the game.

Himiko Yumeno

♡ Super cute design, love her voice and “Nyeh...” and her sprites. Her character development is great as well.

✘ Why did they take so long to make her important and likable?

Tsumugi Shirogane

♡ An excellent and well hidden reveal

✘ I hate her. So annoying, from the voice to the references and her personality.

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spinef0ryou · 2 years

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holy fuck i’m doing worse than ever

back in 2019 was the first time i remember actually wanting to be alive since i was 10 and i’ve been trying to maintain that since the pandemic began but it’s so fucking hard. i can’t fucking cope with my personal life anymore. i can’t open up to anyone because the only people who could help either won’t help, i’m not close enough to them anymore, or they’re dealing with their own shit

my mums become so fucking selfish and narcissistic that i have to listen to her endlessly complain about everything, but if i try to vent my own complaints (when they’re not about her. if i ever try to take issue with her behaviour she just flips her shit and it’s not worth it) she just shuts me down. i can’t open up to her about my mental health because she’ll call me a selfish bitch, only to then turn my words on anyone else who’ll listen and if i call her out she says it makes her feel better about herself.

she doesn’t fucking care about me as a person and never has done. i know that and have done for years but it still fucking hurts. she’s literally the only person who could help me in my life and help me become a proper adult who has a life beyond suicidal chronically ill recluse but she can’t be fucking bothered. anyone else either can’t help me or is too busy with their own issues for me to ever want to open up so i’m just drifting and feeling guilty over every single thing i do

the only thing i use to cope is just turning to shit lately and everything i do to try to maintain my normal is just getting ruined by my own actions and i don’t know how to stop. it’s gonna ruin my relationships with everyone and it feels like i’m helplessly watching myself sabotage everything and comforting myself with the knowledge that any attempt to make things better i would just fuck up things even worse and that i wanna die anyway so it doesn’t matter really

and it feels like the only reason i haven’t actually tried to kill myself is because i’m so sure i’d fail and have to put up with even more shit. and i just don’t want to talk to anyone much because i can’t emote properly so i’m just like 👍 to everything because i’m either too numb or angry or scared and actually forcing myself to communicate feels painful and forced and i’m worried people think i don’t care when i just don’t know how to communicate

i just feel sick all the time and all of this is probably just me being trapped in my own head or pms or just seasonal depression or whatever so i’m just drifting along waiting for it to end. like i’m being super irrational and being a massive bummer and i just can’t help myself so i just wanna turn into a hermit until i can get better but i don’t know when that will be

i desperately need contact with people but i don’t want it at all and i know i’m making it all worse but i have no energy. it feels like i’m being run through a cheese grater emotionally and now every interaction with another person is just painful. i should probably just delete all my socials but i can’t because i know that won’t help

usually i deal with my emotions by writing but i just don’t have the energy for it at the moment, and i wanna work on my requests and feel guilty doing anything else so i’m just listless and feel trapped

idk i know i’ll feel better soon and i’m holding out for that but my head’s a fucking mess

#vent post #also the only person this is about is myself and my mother #<< clarification because i vague-post a lot and it can create confusion #i wasn’t going to post this but my mother threw a temper tantrum at me over something my grandma did and a minor errand or two she didn’t-#-talk to me about #i’m not in the mood to talk about it i just need to vent

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mrsblackruby · 3 years

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Hey👋🏿 hope you’re having a nice day 😊

Sorry for cross tagging but the harassment is getting out of hand. Okay I’m a Billy Hargrove fan willing to make a cross tag post [which turned into a 5 part series ] discussing how to treat and respect fans in the strangers things community. I’m hoping to showcase behavior we shouldn’t engage in when we see someone who likes a character who we dislike. I’m also hoping to start a respectful discussion to help anyone on tumblr who doesn’t understand Billy fans but wants to understand them.Let’s hope this doesn’t become overwhelming 😳

I’m open to fair criticism. Let me know if you interpret a post differently than me if you want. Please let me know your opinions if you have them.

Don’t worry I also want to be respectful to those who don’t like Billy because you have ur reasons to not like his character and connect to fiction however you want to connect to fiction. I want to make things clear I’m not trying to make a moral condemnation of anyone who has engaged in the behavior I critic in this post. There are much bigger problems in the world but I’m so passionate about this one because I’m a person of color who connects to Billy’s story arc and the way some antis treat Billy fans is just cruel. Billy fans are real people who exist and their stories have real life consequences. Online harassment in fandom is not excusable because it is still harassment.

This post is long as FUCK and will have different parts but even tho it’s long I find the conversation to still be interesting so keep that in mind if you read I’ll try to reblog it and pinned it on my blog for ease. There’s a lot to discuss and this conversation should be dealt with care. I will also have the different parts linked at the end of each post. ( I’m also a stupid teenager pls be kind)

I worked so hard on this.

Please share this if you want because I believe our fandom can combat the environment of harassment online we see. Nobody deserve this type of treatment for hyper-fixating on a fictional character that gives them comfort!

Tw for all parts// harassment, racism, discussion of abuse, and abuse apologia, death threats, spoilers for strangers things season 1-3

Tw for this part// harassment, racism, fictional suicide mentioned

I have taken screenshots to reference and prove the behavior I critic but I have gotten rid of all identifying content as to avoid further harassment. Please don’t go out looking to harass anyone. Let me know if I need to add any warnings. this is a somewhat serious, heavy, and layered discussion. We are talking about how humans connect to fiction here so it’s bound to be complex.

[important Note for entire series] All these posts are recent by the way just to show case the harassment is still and ongoing issue even tho Billy has been “ dead” for quite a while now. He might have killed him self but Billy is still my rat man. let me love 😍him.

The Harassment of Billy Hargrove Fans #1

“Okay let’s get started”

Assumptions and cruel judgments of Billy fans

In this Twitter post someone makes the assertion that being a Billy Hargrove fan is a red flag. I’m aware that this is not a tumblr user but I have seen some of this sentiment on tumblr. I will begin by criticizing this post because someone being a fan of a fictional character doesn’t make them and inherent threat to anybody’s personhood. I get that the person who posted this may even agree with what I just argued, that Billy fans aren’t a real life threat, but that’s not what is being communicated at all when someone reads this especially when a fan of Billy reads this. And if someone out there does believe this for one reason or another I’m going to continue to dispute your claim. Some Billy fans might engage in problematic behavior but to hold a layer of apprehension towards all fans of a character because of this might be something you need to reevaluate. Making a moral judgment on real human beings because they like a character is not okay especially if you don’t even know the reasoning.

Just because someone likes a character that might be a mass murderer in fiction doesn’t mean that now they support massacres, correct? Same logic applies here if someone does interpret Billy as racist but still likes his character that does not mean they think racism in the real world is okay ( or bullying, harassment, or anti feminism either) and that does not mean they can’t organize against real world problems effectively.

This is a crude assumption

First things first not every who likes Billy ships Harringrove

As a Harringrove shipper I can only speak for myself and say I could give less of a fuck if Billy is “good” or “bad”. That’s doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to smash king Steve. That’s also doesn’t mean he can’t be queer and it doesn’t mean I can’t like the ship. And it doesn’t mean that I can’t connect to Billy on a disastrously queer level ( got that phrasing from a grade A post on this hell site)

Believing Billy can see the errors in his ways and can heal and become a “good” person… doesn’t have to be a byproduct of being a shipper. it can just be a read someone has of a character so “anon” no disrespect to ya but your thinking is wrong.

Okay this is gonna be lengthy

Fine some Billy fans ignore the shit he did… but that’s not inherently bad. Fans can headcannon Billy into a completely different portrayal than what we see on screen and love him I don’t see a problem with that especially when they aren’t excusing any abuse.

The Duffers brothers failed at exploring racism in their show if that was their intention. Point blank period since this is a form of art it can be interpreted in many different perspectives. Especially if it is not tied to any explicit themes on racism in the text. I interpret Billy’s actions as racist but no one has to do so if they connect to the story in a different manner. I felt the weight of Billy’s “ certain type of people” comment. However it was only and implication not a confirmation. Stop being mad at people for not interpreting something left up to interpretation.The writers didn’t explicitly tackle the issue they wanted to tackle.

This might be helpful 2 know …I interpret Billy as racist, I’m also black, I also Stan Billy Hargrove.

Okay here we go… no-one has to interpret Billy’s actions as being racist so why assume that if someone likes Billy it’s because they’re racist just like him… if they don’t even think he’s racist. I hope that makes sense

I think Billy is racist 4 sure the story flows better for me that way and it makes a lot of sense to me. Now let’s talk about racism in the real world … racism is something that is taught. Racism is a big large system we are all conditioned into. Racism is something we must all unlearn in the real world. So in the fictional world I think there is an entertaining plot line that Billy can go down and unlearn his racism +stop beating up on children Billy 🤦🏿‍♀️. Because I see that potential growth that is why I like his character. Oh and no one ever talks about this but I head cannon Billy as fat phobic because of the “lard- ass” comment so my version of Billy is working through that as well.

I don’t wanna sound all high and mighty I can understand why someone might express this sentiment. I’m not gonna demonize someone who is black like me (black people have dealt with that enough). I also get why you would not even like Billy if you interpret him as racist. [Someone could have the same analysis of Billy as me and still not like him because how we connect to fiction is somewhat irrational.] I would just ask that we don’t jump to conclusions about anyone’s politics because of how they like a fictional character. That we treat other members in our fandom with respect.

I can never and will never excuse racism because if I do I would be turning a blind eye on a system that kills my loved ones. Your allowed to not like Billy Hargrove honestly I don’t see any Billy fans who care? Stop making crude assumptions about people who do Stan Billy Hargrove ur “ joke” is a hurtful misrepresentation.

Lol like #notallbillyfans am I right guys 👉🏿

*crickets sounds and booing*

okay sorry let’s move on…

The problem I hope i highlighted is that you can not make inherent claims to thy morals of a human being because they like a fictional character.😂

Stand alone post: Me reading to much into the politics of Billy Hargrove/ Harringrove

THE 5 PART SERIES ON HARASSMENT:

#2 #3 #4 #5

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robocops-a-christ-allegory · 3 years

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So in trying to figure out why I thought Peacemaker saying Dope As Fuck was actually incredibly in character I realized what it was and its that the way he is in Suicide Squad actually got a part of him I see people ignore alot, and its that whenever hes not putting up some kind of front hes actually very childish.

Readmore under this because it got long. Also big spoilers for the new Suicide Squad movie

Like in general Peacemaker is actually very bad at projecting any kind of image about himself but generally when hes focused on a mission and in full boot boy mode it doesnt really come through, but then whenever hes really pissed or distressed he either starts acting very immature or starts acting like a scared kid, getting all irrational and terrified and having trouble putting words together.

He also sometimes just acts immature in general because hes having too much fun murdering people.

Examples:

In the Suicide Squad movie I think this was actually incorporated really well! He’s immature as fuck the whole time obviously but whenever he’s focusing on The Mission he’s acting all professional and shit, but then as soon as hes told they have free time he immediately starts acting friendly and genuinely wanting to hang out with these freaks by suggesting they start drinking.

Then later, right before the fight scene with Rick Flagg, he’s openly emotional and talking about how he doesnt want to kill Rick because he’s a hero but still will because he thinks he has to. I think its a good representation of Peacemakers whole fucked up deal of never being able to do shit for himself and thinking he has to follow other peoples orders, because deep down he’s a fucking man child who has no idea what he’s doing besides killing people.

(also I guess its a good sort of allegory for the U.S military and the way the CIA and such excuses their warcrimes/has their crimes excused for them, saying they dont want to do the awful shit they do but They Simply Have To and Have No Choice and They Feel Really Bad About This, but my comic book man is more important than all that, so,)

#WELCOME TO MY BLOG THIS IS NOW A PEACEMAKER ANALYSIS BLOG #also warning for nazi imagery in one of the screenshots. guy in a SS uniform.#This is one of those things where I really need to calm down and see that Peacemaker in the suicide squad movie is also highkey like-#a allegory for the U.S military. Just like how he always has been in comics

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the-sympathetic-villain · 3 years

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L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 2

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security government prisons in the country that's run by a sinister Dr. Emile Picani. After several long months of deprivation and torture at the hands of Dr Picani, a devilish-looking man with scales on his face will break into the prison looking for Logan's less than friendly bunkmate, but will he be too late? Prompt by @LoganIsACoolTeacher on AO3

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 3323

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Crying, Depression, Casual Suicidal ideation, Depriving someone of food, Captivity, Solitary confinement, Knife, Threats of violence, Swearing, Mentions of abuse/torture, Injuries, Panic Attack, Food (Let me know if need to add anything!)

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The first night, Logan screamed himself hoarse well into the middle of the night. His body ached with misery, as he yelled and pulled at his restraint. His wrist was bruised and he could feel a this stream of blood dripping from where the metal had cut into his skin but he kept fighting until his body collapsed with exhaustion and he was forced into a restless sleep.

Agony burned in his chest as the long hours dragged by in absolute silence. Being alone was a rare experience for Logan and one he adamantly avoided. While the sound of the constant chattering of strangers thoughts would probably sound nightmarish to the average person, he'd grown accustomed to the comforting presence of others' thoughts. He was used to the white noise, and though he knew it was irrational, the sudden silence growing nearly painful with every hour that passed.

The second night, the isolation started to dig its claws into the corners of his mind. The restraint on his wrist limited his movement to only a few feet around the bed and so far, he'd spent hours staring into the empty window on the far side of the room. Anger twisted in his stomach at the thought that he was likely being watched through the one-way reflective surface and he felt like screaming at his silent observers until his voice gave out, but the previous night’s experience had already proved that effort would be futile. Expending the energy would only make him hungrier.

All he could do was wait.

The third day, he'd woken to find the restraint on his wrist had been released while he'd slept. He blinked, unsure of what this new revelation meant for him. Rubbing his sore wrist, he sat up to scan the quiet room. The door remained closed, and likely locked, but somehow a container of water has found its way into the room. He stepped off the bed, glancing cautiously at the one-way mirror as he approached the glass jug sitting at the base of his door. He was aware of the danger. Tampering with his water supply would be a simple way to entrap him or drug him, but his thirst quickly overrode any hesitation he had. They were his only access to resources and he knew he'd have to give in eventually or risk simply dying of dehydration. Not to mention, quite frankly, if the people in this place decided to kill him, he had little recourse in stopping them. No amount of bargaining would change that fact that he was at their mercy.

Next to the water, he found a fresh change of clothes. The sight of fresh white hospital-like clothing brought a bitter taste to his mouth as memories of the night before came rushing back. He hadn't seen a hint of another person since the doctor had left him, taking with him the only people who might be even remotely sympathetic to his situation. He brushed his thumb over the stiff fabric picturing the faces of the two other prisoners who'd been dressed in the same sterile uniform as he now held in his hand. Still, he changed his clothes, feeling a new level of numb as he changed in front of the window.

Numbness had settled in fully by the fourth night. The hunger left him too weak to stay focused on anything for long. The water provided for him sustained his body in only the barest sense and he could feel his willpower draining away as he spent more time curled in his bed, mind blank as he succumbed to the silence. That night, a particularly sinister breed of depression had taken root in his mind, pushing him toward the precipice of giving up. Dark, self-destructive thoughts clouded his mind as finally drifted off to sleep, making his abrupt awakening all the more jarring as he opened his eyes to find a sharp blade pressed to his throat and a shadow with glowing purple eyes looming over him.

“Move and I'll slit your throat.”

Pure adrenaline flooded over Logan at the familiar voice. The man who'd nearly strangled him the first night straddled his chest, silhouetted against the dark room by the eerie red light. Logan swallowed, barely breathing as he as he pressed himself backward, tilted his head away from the blade.

“You will answer my questions.”

A whimper escaped Logan’s lips, but he forced a small nod, hardly daring to move under the delicate pressure of the sharp blade.

“Why's Picani interested in you?”

“I don't kn—”

“Find a better answer.” The man's hiss sent chills down his spine as the knife moved up Logan’s neck. “The other night, you blew me back into the wall like a goddamn ragdoll. What’s was that?”

Logan sucked in a shallow breath as he struggled to keep his weak body breathing. “Tele—telekinesis.”

“Do not fuck with me right n—”

“I’m not—” Logan breathed, closing his eyes. “I can move things with my mind—”

The blade pressed against his throat with a preciseness just short of drawing blood. “If that were true, why haven’t you blasted me again?”

“I—I don't control it. I never learned how.” Logan blinked, surprised as the blade released a touch of pressure. He blinked, staring up at blank expression on the man's face as he continued.

“Picani’s guard said you'd feed on me.” The man growled his disbelief as he glared down at Logan. “Explain.”

“I don’t know what he was—"

“Not good enough.” The man's deep voice growled above him as the blade returned to his throat. "If you don't start talking, I'll—"

“Please—” Logan whimpered as the sharp nicked his throat and a thin line of blood dripped down his neck. “—It's not what you think.”

“Then explain,” The man’s eyes flashed dangerously as he continued but the pressure of the blade eased slightly. “before I start to get impatient.”

Logan swallowed, feeling a wet streak trail down his face. “Others’ thoughts—I hear them.”

“Are you telling me you feed on my thoughts?”

“No—“ Logan whispered as tears flowed freely down his face. “Please, I don’t know how it works but I can’t—It doesn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn't hurt anyone. Please—”

Logan clenched his eyes shut, stifling a terrified whimper as the blade moved up his neck. His heart pounded in his chest until the blade lifted slightly from his throat and a wet sob escaped his throat. He sucked in a breath as the man leaned back, knife still pointed in Logan's direction as he continued in a hushed tone.

“Are you listening to my thoughts right now?”

“N—no,” Logan breathed, avoiding the man's eyes. “I'm too weak. I can’t—I can’t do anything.”

The man was quiet for a long moment, eyes glinting in the red light as he stared at Logan. “What'd he do to you?”

“Who?”

“Picani,” The man's voice softened slightly. “The doctor, I mean. What's he done to you?”

“I—I’ve been kept alone and—” Logan bit his lip, uncertain about sharing the true depths of his weakness. “—and I haven’t eaten. Anything that fuels my power, he's taken it from me. I can't—I can't hurt you."

The silence hung in the air for a long, tense moment before the man spoke again, knife still inches from Logan's throat.

“Close your eyes.”

A chill crept up Logan’s spine at the seriousness in the man's voice. “Please, don't—”

“Don’t argue.”

Logan swallowed the lump in his throat as the glisten of the blade pointed at him inches from his face. Stilled trembling and tense, he let his eyes flutter closed.

“Move your hands where I can see them.”

“I'm already blind—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Fine.” Logan muttered as he rested his head back on the pillow, lifting his hands in apparent surrender. After a moment, he could feel the bed shift as the man climbed off the bed in absolute silence. Logan strained his ears, but he was unable to trace the man’s careful movements after he stepped onto the flow. He slowed his breathing and forced himself to remain still, unsure of how the man would react to even the smallest twitch.

“If Picani finds out I have a knife because you rat me out, I will not hesitate to kill you with my bare hands.”

Logan bit his lip, body shaking as he gave a stiff nod. “U-understood.”

“Telling him won’t protect you.” The man continued gruffly. “It will only put me in danger.”

“I won't tell him.” Logan swallowed. “You have my word.”

“Your word doesn’t mean shit to me.”

A bitter from twitched at the corner of Logan’s lip. “The man dropped you back in here in the middle of the night, while I was weak and defenseless, knowing full well that you'd already made one attempt on my life. I'm not so much of a fool to believe him my ally.”

“Picani was hedging his bets that you'd appeal to my good will.”

Logan let out a huff, dropping his head to his chest. “Well, it appears he made a miscalculation.”

“Perhaps.” Virgil sighed quietly after a moment. “Or perhaps not. You can have this, but I want you to give me back the wrapper, so I can hide it later.”

A small object struck Logan’s chest, causing him to flinch back with a sharp breath. His muscles tensed as his eyes cautiously fluttered open to reveal the ominous sight of the stranger’s eyes glinting at him through the darkness. Slowly, he sat upright, maintaining eye contact as he turned his head down to stare at the protein bar in his lap.

“Don't make a mess.”

Glancing cautiously up at the other man’s stiff form, Logan leaned forward to tear at the wrapper. He wasn’t sure what had brought about the sudden change of heart, but he wasn’t about to waste his first chance for food in three days. His hands shook as he attempted to tear into the difficult piece of plastic, growing desperate as the man above him tensed.

“Hey, be careful!” The man held up a hand, stopping as Logan flinched at his volume. He paused, giving Logan a quick sympathetic look before edging closer. “Listen, hand it over for a second.”

Logan hesitated, gripping the bar tightly as if his life depended on it.

“Listen, dude. It's all yours, I swear.” The man whispered with a wary smile, holding up his friends as he dropped down on the side of the bed. His movements were slow, as if he was suddenly deliberately making an attempt to be non-threatening. “Just let me open it for you so you don’t make a mess. I don’t want to get backlash for helping you out. Okay?”

“Okay.” Logan whispered after a moment of tense silence, keeping his head bowed from the man's gaze as the man took the bar from his hands. “Thank y—”

“Don't thank me.” The man cut him off sternly. He made quick work of tearing the wrapper open before offering it back to Logan. “What's your name?”

“Logan.”

“Okay, Logan. Mine's Virgil.”

The man whisper filled the air as he waited patiently for Logan to take the bar from the wrapper. Logan took a quick bite, watching the man in his periphery as he chewed the small offering of food slowly. His body ached for him to finish faster, but he didn't want to be caught off guard if the man suddenly changed his mind.

“Listen, I'm sorry.” Virgil muttered as Logan took another bite. “I know I must have scared the shit out of you just now.”

Logan blinked up in mild surprise at the man's change in tone, still wary of the man's anger as he swallowed his first bite.

“You were being cautious.”

“That doesn’t suddenly make any of this shit okay,” Virgil muttered as he crumpled the wrapper into his pocket and stared at his lap. “The way I reacted is straight fucked, but you got to know that Picani only keep his most dangerous subjects this deep into the labs. You're not the first piece of fresh meat Picani’s dropped in my bunk—And when I heard the guards talking about you feeding on me, I panicked.”

“I assume the doctor has given you plenty of reason to be wary of newcomers.” Logan whispered, still slightly unnerved by the man's choice of words. “H-how long have you been here?”

“Long enough that I stopped counting the days.”

Virgil absently ran his fingers through his hair as Logan took in the sight of the man for the first time. His white attire seemed dirtier than before, especially next to the stark white color of Logan’s matching attire. Logan’s eyes tipped up to the man's face. Fresh bruises covered his face and arms and large pieces of gauze appeared to have been haphazardly applied to his head and around his elbows in a poor attempt at first aid for whatever injuries he sustained over the last few days.

"W-where did they take y—”

“Don’t ask.” Virgil interrupted abruptly, glancing at the fearful look in Logan’s eyes as he cut him off. He paused, briefly considering the harshness his words before looking up at Logan. “You'll find out soon enough and trust me, you'll wish you never found out.”

“The doctor—He hurts you because of your powers.” Logan observed, curling his knees to his chest as Virgil’s dark gaze turned back to him. “Doesn't he?”

Virgil blinked up at him. "How did you—"

"I saw you starting to turn invisible before the doctor walked in on us." Logan bit his lip, looking shyly at his lap. "Just after I blew you back into the wall."

"Huh, well, its not invisibility." Virgil huffed, dropping his shoulders as he pointed up at the red lights. "I can manipulate light. It's the reason for all of those."

"What?" Logan furrowed his brow, glancing at the strange lights.

"I can't shift red light as easily as the rest of the spectrum." Virgil muttered bitterly. "They put these in here to make sure that Picani always knows where I'm at."

"And he hurts you because of these abilities?"

"He runs tests." Virgil blinked, looking up a the fear Logan was barely concealing behind his eyes. “Picani’s a bastard and this—” Virgil muttered, looking disgusted as he stared at his bandages before glancing over at Logan. “—is nothing. He's done much worse to me when he gets worked up. He says its about figuring out how I do it, but if you ask me, he just gets off on hearing me scream.”

Logan's skin tingled with fear and he could feel tears growing in his eyes as he swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. “I felt like that might be the case.”

“He owns us. We’re not even people to him.” Virgil’s words fel from his lips absently as he rambled. “And when Picani gets a new subject, he's miserable. He a whole new level of sadism and miser—Shit.”

Virgil paused as Logan sucked in a sharp breath, shaking from the overwhelming series of events from the last few nights.

“Hey, don't panic.” Virgil jolted upright, turning to rest his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “Wait—No, no, just breathe with me. Don't panic.”

Logan sucked in a ragged breath as Virgil rested a hand on his chest, applying a gentle pressure to help ground him. His throat ached as he tried to suppress another sob and Virgil curled an arm around his shoulder.

“You are going to get through this, Logan.” Virgil hushed him urgently. “God. I'll help you but you need to stop. You can't lose it now.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Logan felt himself tugging on his hair as he whispered between ragged breaths. " I'm s-s-sorr—"

“It's okay.” Virgil whispered insistently, tightening his grip on Logan’s shoulders. “You're going to be okay. Just get your breathing under control.”

Logan nodded, body aching as he suppressed the overwhelming panic seizing his muscles. Slowly, through Virgil’s gentle touches and kind words his breathing returned to normal and his muscles started to relax.

“There you go.” Virgil let out a sigh, leaning back. "You did okay."

“I'm sorry.” Logan whispered between pained breaths. “I'm being irrational—”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Your reaction is the only thing that makes sense in this godforsaken place,” Virgil’s eyes tipped sympathetically towards Logan in the dark, flashing with the knowledge of their grim reality. “but you can’t afford to be emotional here. You'll get hurt if you do this around the wrong people.”

Logan paused, feeling his breathing slow a bit at the kind look in Virgil’s glowing purple eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

“I mean it. You can't react like that with the doctor.” Virgil whispered, roughly wiping away the streaks of tears off his cheeks. “The doctor will exploit every fear you show him. You have to be stronger than him.”

“O-okay.” Logan whispered, still trembling as Virgil talked him through his panic.

“Find a place in your head that you can disappear to when you’re in his hands.” Virgil stated with a pitiful smile as he stared at Logan’s distant stare. “Whatever you do, don’t show him what you’re feeling.”

“I will—um, thank you for the advice.”

“It's nothing.” Virgil muttered quietly. “Consider it an apology for waking you up with a shiv to you throat. Alright?”

Logan sucked on his lip, curling his knees to his chest. “It's fine. I realize now why you acted in such a manner.”

"It's not fine, but whatever." Virgil shrugged as his lip twitched with guilt. “but either way, you look like shit and I think you should get some rest.”

“I'm not sure if I’ll be able to sleep at this point.”

“You need to try. You need whatever energy you can get to get through tomorrow.”

Logan blinked up at the serious tone in Virgil’s voice as he slid up on the bed and faced the door.

“I'll keep an eye out and wake you before Picani and his goons show up. Okay?”

“S-sure.” Logan whispered, chilled by the seriousness in Virgil’s voice.

“You can trust me on this, Logan.” Virgil paused raising an eyebrow at Logan. “There’s not much I can do to protect you, but at the very least, I won’t let Picani catch you by surprise.”

Logan let out a breath as Virgil patted the bed next to him. Stiffly, Logan slid over to him and slipped underneath the thin blanket. Uneasily, he rested down on the pillow next to where the Virgil perched, staring at the door. “Thank you, Virgl. I—I know you don't have to help me.”

“I want to.” Virgil muttered under his breath almost to himself. His voice was so quiet Logan nearly didn’t catch the end of his statement. “I never meant for anybody to get hurt.”

Logan blinked, considering Virgil’s words as a deep exhaustion crept over him. He leaned his head back on the pillow, staring up at the distant look in Virgil’s eyes as he stared at the closed door of their cell. He sighed. Falling asleep next to the stranger who'd had a knife to his throat only minutes seemed like an impossible feat but only a few short minutes had passed before the exhaustion began to outweigh his anxiety. He could feel his eyelids dropping even as his heart fluttered with fear of the man next to him. This had to be a mistake and Logan was well aware of that fact. Yet, as his mind drifted off to sleep, he found himself easing to sleep with the madman with the knife next to him anyway.

---

Author’s Note: That’s it for now, but hopefully it won’t be too much longer before we get to here more about these poor boys. Thanks for reading, and again, if you want to be on the taglist, all you have to do is let me know!

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts logan #logan sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #tw weapon #tw abuse #tw food #L'Appel Du Vide #villain writes

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shutupanakin · 3 years

Text

Wasting Your Time ch.2

tw for suicidal ideation

“Wh— what?” Tommy choked out, his voice hoarse from the lack of use all day.

The man rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t just ask a completely impolite question. “I said, do you have any booze?”

Tommy sat still. He reached into his jacket pocket, his hand finding only a plastic pen. Could he stab this man with a plastic pen?

Tommy pulled said piece of plastic out, visibly holding it up. “I have a pen.” Something about the bemused look on the man's face made Tommy click it, and again, repeatedly.

click click click click click click click click—

...

or; Tommy planned on dying. He meets Wilbur instead.

...

Tommy goes back to the station. Wilbur makes him think about his relationship with Tubbo and Ranboo.

first chapter here crossposted on ao3 here

Tommy is a fucking idiot.

No, no, no, it went beyond that, beyond that plain idiocy, Tommy was a fucking moron.

He desperately wanted to just forget about the deal he made. It sat in the back of his mind, collecting dust and forming cobwebs. Whenever he began to think about it, whenever he opened that door and the sun would hit it with its light; Tommy promptly closed it.

But it would always just creek back open, whenever Tommy was sitting in a lecture and he felt like tearing his hair out. When Tommy had managed to hang around Tubbo and Ranboo, and he felt like screaming , throwing a fit, wanting to make his existence known. When he had come home and Tommy would make himself dinner and sit at that stupid empty table alone because Sam was working or studying.

The light would hit it, and Tommy remembered he had a bet of wills to win. Against fucking Wilbur Soot. That pretentious prick.

Tommy is a fucking idiot because he came back. The 11:25 train was coming in, Tommy was alone on this stupid platform. No old lady to distract him, to make him hesitate, no one was here this time to make him reconsider against just—

He could—

He could just—

No.

He had a bet to win.

Tommy glared at the lights, the train skidding to a perfect stop in front of him. Tommy entered swiftly when the doors opened, grabbing the same spot at the back as he did last time. There were two other people at the front. Not together, he would imagine.

He threw his leg up on the plastic seat, ignoring the nauseating feeling that was settling in his stomach. What if Wilbur was just screwing with him? What if he didn’t show up?

Why would he? There was nothing that he personally gained by showing up. It was a bet of wills. Maybe he made this deal to give himself some peace of mind, a pity play. To keep the random kid he met in the middle of the night alive, to give the man a heroic ticket. Look! It’s Wilbur Soot! He saved a child from his own stupidity! A self-righteous savior play.

What a dick.

Tommy wondered if Wilbur was thinking that way about Tommy, too. If he was waiting for the tube to come, debating whether or not he showed up. Whether or not Tommy truly didn’t make it to the end of the week, or if he thought Tommy decided he had better things to do with his time.

Tommy was determined to prove him wrong.

They were slowing. Tommy screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to glance out the window, he didn’t want to be disappointed at the lack of that stupid mess of brown hair. The doors hissed open and Tommy didn’t open them.

Tommy counted his fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

“You look stupid,”

The doors whizzed shut, Tommy's eyes snapped open.

There was Wilbur Soot, with his stupid glasses and dumb-looking Bush and Reagan jumper and Tommy was wishing that he was less relieved to see the man.

“I win,” Tommy blurted. Wilbur took his place, sitting opposite to Tommy. “I made it to the end of the week.” I proved you wrong.

“Think you can do one more?” What?

“I said nothing about that big man,” Tommy objected. “if you wanna do this again we’re gonna have to put money on it.”

Wilbur rubbed his face, exasperated. “I am not gambling with a child. I had a buddy for that.”

“I am seventeen,” Tommy objected. “Where’s your buddy now?” He sneered.

Wilbur shrugged. “Unavailable. I can not talk to him anymore.”

Tommy picked at the thread, resisting the urge to pull it. “Why is that a fucking pattern with you? Can’t talk to this person, can’t talk to that person— do you just get into the habit of making people dislike you?”

“Do you dislike me?” Wilbur pushed.

“I��m trying to,” Tommy told truthfully. “it is kinda a shit thing to do, though— to drop friends. Act like they don’t exist anymore.”

The train stopped. No one got on. Tommy found himself grateful for that.

“Why did you get the bee pin?” Wilbur asked, Tommy's eyes fell down to said pin, resting easily in the fabric of his jacket. He had forgotten about it, truth be told. No one had pointed it out or asked about it. Not even Sam, who he got the jacket from , when Tommy saw him had pointed it out.

“Oh,” Tommy said. “The bee. Uhm.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Reminds me of my friend. Tubbo. I guess. He has this thing, yeah? For them. Since we were kids.”

Tommy remembered, when they were kids, when Tommy’s parents were still alive and Tubbo’s hadn’t split yet. They were in his yard, Tommy was throwing around a baseball. He was getting better at throwing, he couldn’t wait to show Sam— when Tubbo had yelled for him to look. He thrust his cupped hands into Tommy’s face, showing him the bee he had captured.

Tommy had been around Tubbo in person twice this week. If he saw the bee pin he didn’t say anything

“Why are you not hanging around him then?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. He knew the answer to that. He just didn’t like it.

“I don’t think he wants me around anymore,” Tommy admitted.

Another station. One of the stragglers at the front left.

“Why do you think that?”

“What are you trying to do?” Tommy snapped. “Psychoanalyze me? Am I your fucking psychology research project or something?!”

“I am trying to help, you irrational child,” Wilbur stressed.

Tommy relaxed, the glare that had grown on his face only dropping a bit. “I… I— there’s this guy, Ranboo, and I like him, alright? Like he’s cool. He’s from America— living with his cousin, yeah? One of my brother's friends. That’s how we met. I introduced him to Tubbo and—“

“They got along better than you thought,” Wilbur finished.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah,” He was picking at the thread again. “it’s not like… they completely ignore me. They still invite me to stuff. And ask me if I want to play Minecraft. But it’s third-wheeling, right? Like nothing, I say lands with them. I don’t think they do it on purpose, because Ranboo is such a people pleaser; the biggest one I know, and Tubbo's so fucking clingy. He’s a pushover, too. But they have fun together, whether I’m there or not, it doesn’t matter. So why— why bother getting into the voice call, just to sit there talking to myself while they enjoy each other?”

“So you are feeling left out,” Wilbur concluded. Tommy shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s why I like talking to you.” Tommy admitted. “Because you listen to me, the things I say have a bigger impact than a pebble on the pavement. With you it’s— it’s like a crater. But I don’t need to be a world-destroying asteroid when I’m talking to you. I can just be a pebble and still get my point across. You listen to what I say and you respond.”

With them, it was like he was a ghost. Like in Phasmophobia , or something. They’re trying to communicate with him, but are only hearing every other word. Incoherent babbling. With Wilbur, they’re both ghosts— making fun of the idiots with their magic boxes trying to communicate with them.

“Aw, Tommy,” Wilbur cooed. Tommy threw his hands up.

“And you ruined it, you’ve ruined it, Wilbur Soot. You are terrible, downright awful. I’m never saying anything positive about you again.”

Wilbur grinned mockingly. “Oh, Tommy— it is alright that you like talking to me!”

“Fuck you!” Tommy retorted. “You’re a fucking wrongen!”

“I like talking to you too,” Wilbur offered.

They stopped again, someone had gotten. They spared a mere glance at Tommy before sitting in the midsection.

Tommy crossed his arms. “You’re okay I guess,”

“You should probably get on that though,” Wilbur said, Tommy looking at him questionably. “talking to your friends, I mean. Figure things out. I mean, they are doing it on purpose, they are shit friends.”

“They are not!” Tommy hissed. “They’re not doing it on purpose. They wouldn’t.”

And he was right, they wouldn’t. He’s known Tubbo forever , they’ve been stuck together since Tommy could count— so what if Tubbo might have gotten sick of him, just a little? It’s not on purpose, he knew that! But he had someone new to hang around, someone else to laugh with, someone to tell the same jokes he told Tommy and they would laugh because they would be new. Tommy gets it. He does! That doesn’t mean Tubbo was—

That didn’t mean Tubbo was a bad friend. It’s not on purpose. It’s not.

Ranboo was well, Ranboo. That guy couldn’t hurt a fly, even if he wanted to. He had been in the UK for a few months at this point, Tommy did his job of being the placeholder friend— he showed him around, he was his friend when he didn’t have any; now he did. He still cared about Tommy. Tommy knew that! The— the stupid fucking good morning texts, the ridiculous little signs he’d leave in Tommy’s house in Minecraft, the checkups. Ranboo was a good person.

And Tommy? Tommy wasn’t. But he tried.

So if he was jealous of that, of that relationship, of that quick forming bond— he kept his mouth fucking shut.

“They’re not,” Tommy repeated. “I don’t want to ruin their fun.”

“But you are not having fun,” Wilbur pointed out. “and if they are your friends they should care about that.”

“And what am I supposed to do then?” Tommy cried. “They’re all I got! If I— if I lose them then have nothing. I’d rather sit and deal with it than just lose them.”

Tommy meant it, in the most literal way possible, that he would rather die than lose them. He’d rather have died knowing they still cared about him even just a little bit than live not having them in his life.

Another station and Tommy glared at the doors, daring anyone to enter.

No one did.

“You are scared,” Wilbur said.

“I don’t like being alone,” Tommy admitted. He shook his head. “Nope, I’m done talking about this. I’m done.” Topic change, topic change… “Why are you wearing that stupid jumper again?”

Wilbur looked down, pulling at said jumper. “It is… my Tuesday jumper?”

“That’s lame.” Tommy deadpanned. “Of course you correlate your outfits with days of the week.”

“You are literally wearing a varsity jacket, you do not play a sport.”

“Hey!” Tommy exclaimed. “It’s my brothers! And— and why the fuck do you have a Reagan and Bush sweater, anyway?! You’re fucking British!”

“It is cool ,” Wilbur dejected. “A friend and I used to go on eBay and buy American President jumpers.”

“Nerd.” Tommy yawned. It was late. “Lemme guess— you don’t talk to this guy anymore either?”

“Yep.” He said, popping the p. “After I left he got divorced, or something, I think. Bad luck.”

“It’s because he buys U.S President jumpers off of eBay.” Tommy pitched his voice lower. “Sorry, can’t pay the bills this month Sandra! I just couldn’t resist this two hundred pound Obama sweater.”

Wilbur stood up, and Tommy realized that the train was slowing. Oh. Were they going back to that shop then?

“Come on,” Wilbur gestured. “you can get another pin or something.”

“I’m going to get scammed again,” Tommy grumbled, bouncing his legs as he waited for the doors to click open.

“You are helping a small business,”

“‘You are helping a small business’, shut up.” Tommy drawled. Someone who was on the platform entered the front, not sparing a glance at Tommy.

Tommy walked alongside Wilbur, exiting the station. They passed a woman who was standing outside a pub, smoking. Tommy only nodded at her.

“Can you tell me what got you banned now?”

“I do not think I will,”

He groaned. “Oh, you cryptic bastard— what if I do the same thing you did and get banned too? Who am I supposed to go to in the middle of the night to get pins?”

“You are gonna get pins again?” Wilbur asked. Tommy nodded his head.

“I think so. I kinda like the bee, and nothing else in there has really interested me, ya know? Could use more of them on this,” He gestured to the front of his jacket.

The blinking sign came up, Tommy standing underneath it. “I will be here,” Wilbur said.

“This is ridiculous,” Tommy complained. “what happens if you go in? Can’t bygones just be— bygones? Is that how ya say it? Jack seems nice. I’m sure he’s not as much of a prick that you’re making him out to be.”

“Nope,” Wilbur shook his head. “No can do, Toms.”

“Ugh,” The bell rang, the door shutting behind him with a thud. Jack Manifold sat at the counter, face leaning on his hands. His eyes met Tommy’s as he entered.

“You again?” He greeted, rather rudely. Tommy gave a small wave, approaching the bowl of pins, looking through it.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Tommy joked, picking up a circular white pin. An empty smiley face stared back at him.

“We have to stop meeting in the middle of the night,” Jack corrected. “what are you doing out this late anyway?”

“Work?” Tommy said it more like a question, pulling out his wallet. “Late night shift, that. Yeah.” Tommy cringed. Jack didn’t question it, taking the two pounds Tommy had placed on the counter. Tommy turned the pin in his hand, clipping it into his jacket. “Thank’s Jack!”

“See ya kid!” He called, Tommy swiftly exiting. Wilbur stood waiting for him.

“What did you get this time?” He asked, Tommy held out his jacket. Wilbur squinted at the smiley face. “That is ironic.”

Tommy punched him in the shoulder, lightly, keeping his pace with Wilbur. “It’s not for me dipshit,” Tommy explained. “Sam—my brother— has this friend, Ranboos cousin actually. He’s got this stupid fucking hoodie. Ugliest shit I’ve ever seen man, bright green. He’s like a walking traffic light. Has this giant smile on it. Reminded me of him. Everything about that guy. Fucking weirdo.”

“Because he wears a smiley face?”

“No,” Tommy said. “Because he is American .” He emphasized.

“Ah,” Wilbur realized. “That explains it. Perfectly reasonable explanation. You ever been there?”

“No, but Sam has. He studied abroad there for a few years before—“ Nope. Tommy’s night was picking up. Nope . “Anyway, he came back. Friends with a bunch of them too.”

“I have been,” Wilbur hummed, reminiscing. “California. La Jolla. Sometimes I wish that I stayed.

“That sounds made up,” The cool nighttime air disappeared as they entered the underground again, descending the stairs.

“It could have been. It was nice, sunny. More than here. Cleaner.”

“Why don’t you go back then?” Tommy pushed. “If it’s so much nicer there than here. If I had the chance I’d get the fuck out of here too.”

Tommy did not want to go to the states, fuck that. But oh, what he would do to be able to just leave. Travel. Not have to stay in one spot. That sounded nice, being able to pick up and leave whenever he felt claustrophobic. He couldn’t though, because he had Sam and school and Tubbo and Ranboo and he’s standing in quicksand and he’s sinking and he can't get out —

He’d go to Rome first maybe, if he could pull himself out of the quicksand. Berlin? Paris? Ugh, the French. No. Vienna would be nice. Tubbo’s mom lived there. Tommy remembered that he would visit her there during the summers. He’d always excitedly show pictures he had taken to Tommy when he had returned.

“I can not leave,” Wilbur answered, Tommy’s attention snapping back to him.“Stuck here for a bit, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Tommy frowned. “Well, that’s something we have in common I guess.”

When the train arrived, they boarded. This time, there was a group at the front, engaging in an incoherent conversation. Tommy didn’t bother eavesdropping, snatching his spot at the back.

“You want to make another deal?” Wilbur asked, sitting down.

“Like, we do this again? Do you still think I’m gonna jump?”

“Maybe,” Wilbur admitted. “You sounded like you wanted to earlier.” Tommy knew what he was referring to, to his word dump about Tubbo and Ranboo. Tommy was hoping that he would forget that. “I want to add something to it though.”

Tommy's eyes glinted. “Money?”

Wilbur glared. “No. I am not giving you money.”

“ Ughhhh—” Tommy leaned back. “Come on, I’ll stay alive for money, okay? I’ll do that. I’ll take that bet!”

“I want you to talk to your friends. Tell them what you told me.”

No thank you , he was not doing that. The train stopped. No one got on, the group didn’t leave.

“Now that bet I’m not taking. You can keep your money.”

“Tommy.”

“No— no you don’t get it! That will ruin everything!” Tommy expressed. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. “I’m not going to ruin it for them.” He affirmed.

“It is being ruined for you though,” Wilbur hummed.

“Fuck you,”

They stopped, the group got off. A man entered.

“Listen to me,” Wilbur said. “They are not going to hate you. They are not going to hate each other either. You tell them—“ He pitched his voice. “‘Hey guys, I am feeling ignored and like I am third wheedling but I have been avoiding telling you that because I think it will ruin your fun’ mememememe—“

“I do not go mememememe !” Tommy argued. Completely inaccurate imitation.

“Do that,” Wilbur continued. “If it goes well, come back, right? If it fixes your fucking communication issues, come back here.”

“That’s your bet?”

“Mm-hm.”

Tommy was going to develop a gambling addiction, or something. If that was how that worked. He didn’t— he didn’t want to tell them, he couldn’t! Why should he ruin everything just to prove to this asshole that he was wrong?!

“And if I don’t show up, I’m right. I proved you wrong.”

“I am not wrong though,” He teased.

“Oh get your head out of your ass!” Tommy scolded. “You’re so full of yourself aren’t you?!”

“I am not full of myself,” Wilbur tapped. “I just know when I am right.”

“You’re a bitch.”

Wilbur didn’t hesitate. “You are a gremlin.”

Another station and the man had gotten off, glaring in Tommy’s direction. Tommy resisted the urge to flip him off. It was just them now.

“You’re going to be proven wrong by a gremlin, then I’ll never have to—“ Oh. “I won’t ever see you again.”

“We better hope I’m right then!” Wilbur laughed, clapping his hands together. “That would be unfortunate.”

It would suck, Tommy agreed. Because man, was Wilbur Soot fucking irritating; but if he lost Tubbo and Ranboo this week, he— he wouldn’t show up. Because he won. Wilbur would enter and there would be an empty seat, and he would know he lost.

Maybe, maybe Tommy could fib. If that happened. Act like they went okay. It was up in the air, Tommy was already building the lie that he would tell to Wilbur in case that happened.

“Alright, Wilbur. I’ll take that bet.” Tommy decided.

“We need to find a different word for that,” Wilbur said. “Bet. That is morbid—“

“You’re morbid.”

“It is morbid,” Wilbur continued. “Placing bets on human life. It lessens the value, takes it— and makes it hollow, and if we are hollow, what are we then? We are no better than the people that glare at you when you laugh, or the ones that complain about a delayed train.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy said, slowly. “It’s a word.”

Wilburs shoulders fell. “Words are powerful, Toms.”

“I think calling it a bet is okay. Right? Because it’s a bet on me.” Tommy explained, carefully. “It’s at my own expense. Nothing is being placed on it, it’s... it’s more of a test of wills if anything.”

“A test,” Wilbur repeated.

“I hate tests.” Tommy rambled. “We both have a thesis, opposites of each other, and we’re both trying to prove the other wrong. Like a science experiment or something.”

“I could work with that,” Wilbur calmed. The train stopped again. It was Wilbur's stop. Another night, ended by a train station. Wilbur stood up, standing at the doors, waiting for them to open. “Farewell, my fellow science experiment.” Wilbur joked, Tommy groaned, he didn’t agree to being called that. “See you next week!”

“You hope!” Tommy called. Tommy hoped, but he wouldn’t say that either. A man brushed past Wilbur as he exited, not sparing him or Tommy a glance as he sat in the midsection.

That heavy feeling returned, settling in Tommy’s stomach. He would have to face Tubbo and Ranboo, this week. Probably a conversation that would be easier to do in person, so he would have to wait a few days. It wasn’t just his friendship with them on the line now, anymore. He had the curse that was Wilbur Soot and being bad at lying. His poor, poor unfortunate luck.

Tommy, for the first time all night, pulled out his phone. A few from Ranboo, but nothing concerning. No indication that Sam had caught him. Thank god.

Tommy got off at his stop, not giving the man a glance. The possible things he could say to them running through his head as he ascended the stairs, he needed to word it out carefully. Maybe write like a notes app vent, or something. He needed to think this through carefully. He would do that tomorrow, though.

Right now, he wanted to go home, and collapse on his bed and pretend the last to Tuesday didn’t happen. He could live with that. He would be perfectly contempt with that!

But he couldn’t, unfortunately. He was cursed with the miserable existence of Wilbur Soot.

#tommy #tommyinnit #sbi #sleepy boys inc #sleepy bois inc #wilbur #wilbur soot #crime bois #crimeboys #dream #dream smp #dsmp #wyt shutupanakin #shutupanakin posts

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Note

Congrats on 500 followers!!!!! Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve it! Would you be able to do “Can you please stop biting your lip…it’s distracting.” for analogical? If you don’t get inspo for it that’s totally fine I’m just on a total analogical kick recently lol

@wisherbystarlight thank you!! i absolutely love analogical so here you go

Title: abject impermanence

Word Count: 3,570

Content Warnings: implied suicidal ideation (in reference to virgil ducking out), negative self image

(fic masterpost)

Virgil would rather die than admit this to anybody, but he develops a crush on Logan after their first debate.

It’s ridiculous, and bothersome, and stupidly humiliating, and he has to spend a few days in his room before he feels prepared enough to face anyone again, prepared enough to put up his usual walls and throw around his usual sarcastic comments, and all the while, his heart is beating far too fast, his mind racing, insisting that he’s being obvious, that everyone knows.

(That is what being Anxiety means: he is under a microscope all the time, his every movement watched and analyzed and derided, alone in a crowd of people who wish him nothing but ill.)

It’s awful, really. Is he truly so pathetic that the first time someone treats him like his opinions are valid, he falls head over heels for them? Because he has to admit, that’s the root of all of this. The debate, and the fact that even though Logan didn’t agree with him, he still treated him with respect, like he was someone worth listening to, and none of the light sides have ever acted like that before.

And they’ve certainly never told him that they don’t mind his company.

So. He has a crush on Logan. And it takes him a few weeks to calm down enough to really think about it, but when he does, he decides that nothing has to change. It’s not like he’ll ever work up the courage to act on these feelings

(because holy shit, how badly would that go? He can picture it now: Logan sneering at him, Logan rejecting him, Logan informing him that he would never in a million years have feelings for someone so irrational and useless, and while Virgil is at it, would he kindly remove himself from his presence and never come back and— well. Maybe Virgil is irrational, but he can’t bring himself to risk something like that)

so the only thing to do with them is pretend they’re not there, right? He’ll keep all of his emotions right here, in his chest, and then one day, he’ll die, and no one else has to know a thing about it.

He doesn’t see what could possibly go wrong with this plan. Which is odd for him because usually, he can only see the things that could go wrong. But the only factor in this plan is him, and his own ability to disguise his feelings, and he’s been successfully doing that for a very long time.

(After all, it’s been years, and none of the others have managed to figure out how much their rejection hurts him, how deeply it strikes at the heart he pretends not to have.)

But he doesn’t anticipate things changing. He doesn’t anticipate trying to duck out, at least, not until the moments in between making the decision and actually going through with it, and he doesn’t anticipate anybody coming after him. He certainly doesn’t anticipate their reactions, doesn’t anticipate being told that he’s important,

(because since fucking when?)

and doesn’t anticipate their acceptance.

He doesn’t anticipate telling them his name.

And alright, maybe he could deal with all of this. Maybe he could ease his way into being one of them, edge his way into their inner circle. It’s something he once would have thought impossible, but now, they seem determined to make him one of them, to bring him into their family, and even though part of him wonders whether they’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t duck out again, doesn’t hurt Thomas, a larger part of him is ecstatic about the fact that they’re including him at all. Maybe he can let himself have this, for once.

But that night, Logan comes to his room.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” he asks, and reluctantly, Virgil takes off his headphones.

Because, yes. Of course. He’s hardly busy, and even if he were, he’s certain he’d figure out a way to put it aside in favor of Logan, because really, he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, aiming for casual. He thinks he makes it, if only because he is very practiced in hiding how much of a mess he is internally. “What’s up?”

Logan looks uncomfortable, a bit shifty, even though he hasn’t been in his room nearly long enough for its effects to take hold.

“I merely wanted to check in with you after today’s events,” he says, and then pauses, biting his lip, something that Virgil finds incredibly distracting. “Specifically, to ensure that you are alright.”

He blinks. “Of course I’m alright,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“Well, I was considering everything that happened, and it occurred to me that we glossed over precisely what ‘ducking out’ would have done to you in the long term.” In an oddly vehement motion, Logan shoves his glasses further up his nose. And Virgil knows very well that as the embodiment of Logic, Logan tries not to display his stronger emotions, but right now, he is the perfect picture of distress. “I find it likely that if Thomas had been unable to utilize you for an extended amount of time, you may have… disappeared, for lack of a better word, not unlike a muscle that atrophies after disuse.”

Well, yes. He knew what he was risking. But he’d felt low enough that he didn’t particularly care about himself.

He was just tired of hurting Thomas.

(And maybe, just maybe, if there was a part of him, small and insidious in the back of his brain, that found the prospect of nothingness appealing, he’ll keep that to himself.)

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But that didn’t happen. You guys came and got me, and I’m okay now. Not gonna do anything like that again, I swear.”

“That’s not my point,” Logan says, even more upset entering his voice. He crosses his arms, holding his shoulders tensely. “No matter how illogical it might seem, I find myself wondering what might have happened had we not attempted to reach you in time, and the idea is… displeasing.”

Oh.

Despite himself, Virgil’s heart flutters.

“So, I arrived at the conclusion that assuring myself of your continued well-being would help to assuage my concern.” Logan fidgets. “As well as the fact that… I want you to be alright. For yourself, and not just because I am…”

“Anxious?” Virgil can’t resist finishing, even as he feels his face flushing underneath his foundation. God, he hopes Logan doesn’t pick up on that. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly to something as simple as basic worry, especially after the day they all had, but to know that Logan has been thinking about him? That Logan doesn’t like the idea of him not being around, doesn’t want him to vanish?

That Logan cares enough to come check on him like this?

It’s a strong, heady feeling, and Virgil has the sneaking suspicion that his crush has just upgraded itself.

“Yes,” Logan answers, and he seems a bit embarrassed, but he holds his ground, staring Virgil straight (gay) in the eyes. The direct eye contact is intense, almost too much for him to handle, but Virgil finds himself unable to look away.

“Well, uh, I appreciate it, I guess,” he manages. “Really, it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Of course,” Logan says, and seems almost indignant at the idea that he might not. “I value our discussions,” he adds, and Virgil has to pretend that that statement doesn’t almost give him a heart attack.

But that is mostly the end of that conversation, because really, neither of them is very good with touchy-feely emotions. Logan sinks back out shortly after, and Virgil is left alone in his room, his headphones lying uselessly on his lap as his mind reviews their exchange over and over again, searching for all the places where it might have gone wrong, or where he might have messed up. He can’t really find any, and that is a realization in and of itself, almost enough to distract him from the bigger one, the one that looms over him.

It’s not just a crush anymore. He could try to deny it, but he thinks that would summon unwanted attention. So he accepts it, accepts that he is… he’d say infatuated, but infatuated isn’t the right word. Infatuated doesn’t even begin to cover what he feels when he looks at Logan, doesn’t cover the way his heart races and his words trip over themselves and the way he longs for his approval. It doesn’t cover the way he knows so many little details about him, like the way Logan pushes at his glasses or fiddles with his tie when he’s nervous or upset, or the exact way his lips curl around the edges when he’s pleased and trying not to show it. So many little details, none of which would be on his radar at all if he wasn’t—

Well. He won’t deny it. But he doesn’t particularly see the need to voice it, either.

After all, it’s not like it changes anything. Or at least, it shouldn’t. He wasn’t planning on sharing his feelings when they were a simple crush, and he’s certainly not going to share them now that there’s more.

Except, nothing is ever that simple,

(Nothing ever can be, with him. It’s what he does best, turning easy things into overcomplicated messes because he can’t let go of all the what ifs—)

because suddenly, he’s welcome to spend time with the others. Is welcome at their table, is welcome in the commons, is welcome to join their movie nights and their game nights, and most of the time, he even feels mostly okay with doing so, because Patton is enthusiastic in his invitations, and he can tell that even Roman is honestly trying. And sometimes, it makes him want to cry, because this is all he’s ever wanted, to be one of them, and now he can and it’s almost too much.

The only problem with that is that he’s spending a lot more time around Logan.

Which is fine. Great, even.

Except, sometimes, Logan will do things. Little things, inconsequential things, but things that remind Virgil all too clearly of the feelings he keeps nestled under his heart.

For instance, Logan bites his lip a lot. When he’s working, when he’s watching movies, when he’s listening to the others, and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s a stupid thing to get caught up on, but he can’t help himself. And it’s not as if Virgil’s attraction to him begins or ends with the physical, but—

Whenever he does it, Virgil can’t stop his eyes from zeroing in on his lips. Can’t stop himself from thinking about how much he would like to kiss him.

He would like to kiss him a whole lot. And he’s fairly sure he’s being pretty obvious about it, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

So, really, he should have prepared himself for the possibility of being found out. Under any other circumstance, he would have, but there’s a saying, he thinks, about love and fools.

“Can I help you with something?” Logan says, and Virgil flinches violently, the rest of the world coming back into focus. He snaps his gaze up to meet Logan’s eyes, and the expression on his face might be amusement, maybe, but it could also be annoyance, and in fact, it’s probably definitely annoyance, because actually Logan is annoyed with Virgil and maybe even angry and now their budding friendship is completely ruined and all because Virgil doesn’t know better than to stare when he really shouldn’t be staring and—

No, stop. Stop. He’s not going to do that, not right now. He wrests his thoughts back under control with an effort.

Logan was working, typing away on his laptop, biting his lip as he concentrated. And Virgil just so happened to be out in the commons as well, in the perfect position to watch him and daydream, just a bit.

He needs to reply. He’s left it too long, and Logan’s eyebrows are inching up his face as he awaits a response. And the longer he takes to come up with something, the more suspicious Logan will be, so he should just shrug, mutter a denial, and pointedly turn his attention away. Something like that.

But it’s his job to make snap decisions under pressure. And sometimes those decisions aren’t the right ones.

So instead of taking another second to think things through and deflect Logan’s interest, his mouth opens ahead of his brain and says, “Can you please stop biting your lip?”

Logan stares. Virgil feels himself wilting.

“… It’s distracting,” he finishes weakly, and prays for the ground to swallow him whole. He can’t even manage to sink out

(because his mind is screaming at him now, screaming horrified recriminations, screaming all of the worst case scenarios, and it’s taking all of his concentration to breathe properly, much less get out of here)

because the sheer force of his embarrassment is leaving him paralyzed, curled up in his chair and with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape Logan’s widening eyes.

“Is it now,” Logan says, and he doesn’t sound particularly angry, but Virgil could very easily be wrong. Or, he could be angry and trying to hide it. Or maybe he’s not angry, but irritation would probably be just as bad, at this point.

“Sorry,” he mutters, hunching in on himself. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“Virgil, you’re magnifying,” Logan says softly, and that softness is worse than any anger could be, because what if he’s figured it out? What if he pities him? Virgil would take just about anything over pity. “Whatever you think you just said, I assure you that it didn’t come off nearly as badly as you seem to believe.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Though, I can’t say I’m certain of what you meant, considering—”

He cuts off suddenly, and Virgil can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He should leave now, leave before Logan draws his conclusions, but he is frozen, powerless to do anything but let this train wreck happen in real time.

“I wouldn’t ordinarily consider biting my lip to be a disruptive habit,” Logan says slowly. “It makes no noise and does no one any harm, and it’s not something I would think affects anyone else. But you were staring, which means there is something about the habit that draws your attention. I can only think of a few reasons for that.”

He takes it back. Pity would be far better than this, than this slow and measured reasoning, drawing out all of Virgil’s best-kept secrets, spiraling toward a conclusion that he never wanted anyone to know, much less Logan himself.

Perhaps that is why he says what he says. Because with this, Logan is only prolonging the inevitable, and it’s torture.

It’s like a band-aid. The biggest band-aid ever, maybe, covering one of the worst wounds of his life, but a band-aid. And it’s coming off one way or another, so he might as well rip it off now and brace himself for the sting.

“Oh my god,” he says. “It makes me want to kiss you. That’s why it’s distracting. And I’m just gonna go die in a hole now, if that’s alright.”

His face is burning, mortification rising up in him like a tidal wave, threatening to swamp him. This is, possibly, the worst thing that has ever happened to him, ever.

(It’s not, of course, because anything and everything is better than it was before he was accepted, when he was on his own and so lonely and bitter all the time. But this comes close, he thinks. It’s a different kind of hurt altogether, but a hurt nonetheless.)

Logan sets his laptop down, giving him his full attention. For a moment, he is completely silent, and Virgil prepares himself to stand and sink out and into his room, where he will spend the next few weeks huddled under the covers on his bed with his headphones on blast, hating his life and himself for being such an idiot, because here he is, ruining one of the best friendships that he has ever known, and for what? Because he was too much of a moron to keep himself from staring, from forcing his unwanted attentions upon the one side who was more likely than any of the others to notice what he was doing? It’s pathetic, and stupid, and he knows it, and Logan knows it, and—

“I don’t see why you need to do that,” Logan says. His voice shakes, just slightly. “You could kiss me, if you wanted.”

Virgil stills. He can’t have heard that right.

Logan clears his throat. “That is to say, I would enjoy it, if you kissed me. If I’d realized you were interested, I would have broached the topic sooner.”

Hysterical laughter threatens to escape him, his brain dissolving into static, because what? And he knows he needs to say something, needs to respond, but his vocal cords refuse to work, so he’s left sitting there, staring, stricken dumb.

Logan glances away, something like uncertainty crossing his face. “I apologize,” he murmurs. “I’m not doing this right, am I?”

And that is what finally spurs Virgil to action, because Logan sounds so terribly dejected, and that is absolutely not allowed. Not when it’s Virgil that’s made such a mess of things, when none of it is Logan’s fault at all.

“Do you mean it?” he croaks.

Logan blinks, his expression clearing, and then landing on comprehension. His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stands, crossing the floor and kneeling in front of where Virgil sits.

“Of course I do,” he says, and then reaches out with one hand, cupping Virgil’s cheek. Virgil’s breath catches, the contact shooting lightning across his face and down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, and he doesn’t know whether it’s fear or anticipation or some mixture of the two. Most of him still hasn’t processed that this is happening, hasn’t made the jump from Logan can never know about my feelings because he’ll reject me and then I’ll have no choice but to jump off a cliff to Logan knows about my feelings and he is doing the exact opposite of rejecting me hoooooly shit what do I do—

“I think about you often,” Logan says. “Ever since our first debate, if I’m being completely honest.”

Virgil blinks.

The laugh escapes him, then, but there’s not much hysteria in it. It’s something warm, now, something bright and colorful and blooming as he realizes just how much of an idiot he’s been, as his anxiety slowly begins to fade away,

(not completely, never completely, because he is who he is and that will never change, and his mind is already looking to the future, at all the fresh new opportunities he is going to have to screw this up, but for now, in this moment, he has Logan here in front of him, offering to kiss him, telling him that his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he convinced himself they had to be, and it’s very difficult to be negative at all, in the face of such a beautiful thing as this, as him)

morphing into something that he is tentatively willing to call hope.

“Yeah?” he says. “Me too.”

Before he can lose his nerve, he shifts position, leans down, and kisses Logan. Lightly, briefly, and it’s really more of a peck than anything else, but in the split second in which their lips meet, Virgil can feel just how soft Logan’s are, and when he pulls back, anxiously searching for a reaction, Logan’s cheeks are dusted with red.

“Yes, um,” Logan says. “That was… good. Would you like to do it again?”

A wave of fondness washes over him, and he lets it drag him away.

“You dork,” he says, and pecks him on the lips again. He doesn’t yet have to courage to try for more, but he thinks that might come with time. If he is allowed time, if he is allowed this, and he is not prone to optimism, but for once, he might be willing to give it a go.

Optimism, and whatever this is, new and exciting and budding between them. And there is a part of his mind that is screaming at him, insisting that he’s only going to hurt Logan or get hurt himself, and that no brief happiness could ever be worth that, but—

Logan’s lips are gentle and soft, and Logan is smiling at him, and that, he thinks, might be worth the world.

(“I would be extremely displeased if you died in a hole,” Logan informs him a bit later. “Please refrain from doing so.”

He agrees, if only because of that fact that if he died in a hole, he would never get to kiss Logan ever again. And now that he’s started, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

He is not one to believe in permanence. Or in happy endings. But just this once, he’ll try it, and trust that Logan will catch him if he falls.)

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @ldavmp4

#analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #wisherbystarlight

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dylanhawth · 3 years

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[ LORENZO ZURZOLO, CISMAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! DYLAN HAWTHORNE, the TWENTY year old SECOND year ANTHROPOLOGY major from HARTFORD, CT is known as a TOURMALINE around here. HE was invited to join because HE PUBLISHED A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES ANONYMOUSLY THAT GARNERED A BIT OF FOLLOWING AND RECENTLY STEPPED FORWARD AS THE AUTHOR, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE NERVOUSNESS OF A FIRST KISS, LEAVING SECRET MESSAGES IN LIBRARY BOOKS, DRIVING AIMLESSLY WITH THE WINDOWS ROLLED DOWN ON A WARM SUMMER NIGHT WHILE THE RADIO HUMS A PLAYLIST CURATED FOR YOU BY YOUR BEST FRIEND.

[ big ass bio ] | [ connections ] | [ pinterest ] | [ playlist ]

ooc.

omfg hello. i can’t tell you how excited and happy i am to be here. i was too nervous to apply for the last three months but i decided to stop being a Coward and just try. im SO happy to be here, it’s the highlight of my week tbh lmao. anyway i am mar, she/her, 24, est. i live in nyc and all i do is visit the planetarium and cry. i’m so fucking bad at these so im just gonna LIST things and hope you get the vibe. i am a pisces sun, scorpio moon. i prob have a napoleon complex a little bit lmao. my favorite social media site is goodreads and i get rlly sad when my friends rate books i love poorly dfljskdfs. i can touch my tongue to my nose. i eat a lot of persimmons. i have a favorite rock at my local park that i visit a lot. idk dfskjls. i’m v friendly tho so pls hmu. i send a lot of memes, and love making meme edits for the chars so im rlly sorry in advance if you guys hate that.

01. basics.

NAME. dylan h. hawthorne. ALIASES. dyl, hawth. AGE. twenty. HOMETOWN. hartford, ct. GENDER. cismale. PRONOUNS. he/him.

02. appearance.

EYES. green. HAIR. brown. HEIGHT. 6”0 BUILD. lean. BIRTHMARKS / BURNS / SCARS. a birthmark the shape of australia on his left thigh. TATTOOS. n/a. PIERCINGS. n/a.

03. habits.

ALCOHOL ? socially. SMOKING ? socially. HABITS. fidgets in chairs. cracks knuckles and back often. nervous laughter. chewing on pencils. talking to his plants. dogearing books. staring off into space and applying chapstick for a prolonged period of time. getting overly competitive about boardgames. stress cleaning. carries a book in his bag always. night owl. incredibly impatient when the internet is slow. creature of habit when it comes to menus, orders the same shit over and over again. LIKES. feeding the ducks at the local pond. the smell of the earth after a rainstorm. the way music sounds coming from another room. kissing. watering his plants. inside jokes. making wishes in fountains. discussing a recently finished book with someone. making handmade cards for friends on their birthday. fireworks. coming of age films. packages wrapped in twine. jogs. the way friday nights feels when you’re with someone you love. the feeling you get leaving the movie theatre. DISLIKES. being late. having too many coins on him. coffee with no sugar. when people speak loudly in the library. doing laundry. handshakes with too much squeeze. receiving voicemails. untidiness. golf. charles dickens. lectures with no student input. hot weather. confrontation. being caught in a lie. losing his umbrella. people who cheat during games. rainboots. bad table manners. humidity.

04. personality.

MYERS-BRIGGS. infp. ENNEAGRAM. the helper. ZODIAC. pisces. TEMPERAMENT. melancholic. ALIGNMENT. neutral good. ARCHETYPE. the lover. POSITIVE. empathetic. sensitive. intelligent. charismatic. easygoing. gentle. loyal. passionate. romantic. humble. supportive. gregarious. playful. diligent. NEGATIVE. deceitful. gullible. finicky. naive. obsessive. perfectionistic. secretive. timid. possessive. weak-willed. indecisive. cynical. indulgent. summary: basically, dylan is a love starved, people pleasing nervous wreck. big ass nerd who wants to be everyones friend, wants to be liked SO BAD. very charming and charismatic, comes off as fairly confident and comfortable at first. is able to make everyone feel loved and like they’re the most important person in the world, however lacks a backbone. is both romeo and juliet, and just as dumb as both of them too.

05. hc’s.

dylan was a football player in high school, believe it or not. he was rather good at it too, which is sort of jarring considering his pacifistic nature. however, he DID land on someone incorrectly at some point during his senior year, and broke their wrist. he quickly abandoned the sport altogether because of how guilty he felt.

touched on this briefly but dylan really… loves indiana jones lmao. like, it’s quite ironic given his absolutely inability to be a badass, and lack of suaveness. however, he admires indy’s lust for adventure. he also was obsessed with the mummy as a kid. both of these were incredible sources in his very irrational decision to sudden anthropology. however, he does really love and admire anthropology. his favorite ethnography is the spirit catches you and you fall down, which makes him cry like a little bitch every time he even thinks about it.

he’s the second oldest, but he is also baby. he is SUCH a big momma’s boy. he misses his mom so much. he writes to her often, and of course calls her even more. despite being six-foot tall, he still goes home and rests his head on his mother's lap, falls asleep as she runs her fingers through his hair. he often tries to find native english plants and flowers to press, and mail back to his mother in the form of bookmarks. has nEVER STEPPED ON A CRACK IN HIS LIFE, BABY.

just leaves a shit ton of notes in books in the library. some are riddles, some are poetry, some are commentary on the book, some are doodles. just depends on how he’s feeling for that book. he doesn’t tell anyone he does it, but he’s waiting for someone to connect the dots with his handwriting and writing style.

speaking of plants, his room is basically a big greenhouse. he has so many plants, and takes serious care of them all. he has a little humidifier in his space for them, marks down when he waters what plants, and has a label maker to label them all with a name. they are all named after shakespeare characters.

dyl is a doodler, so much so that he contributes to the school paper as a cartoonist. his cartoons are usually just random thoughts he has, but sometimes they get political and he works marxism into them. (this man loves marx.)

[ suicide implied tw, death mention tw ] he dresses like a victorian boy in love with his roommate who has recently died of scarlet fever and in his mourning, plans to disappear in the bog by the school by mysterious circumstances and become a ghost that haunts the college with his lover. like lots of gray and slacks and ties ands ties and sweaters, lol. also he has glasses that he never wears because he can never find them! catch him squinting in your classroom because he can’t see SHIT. too shy to ask you for your notes though, doesn’t wanna inconvenience you! but when he’s Out on the Town®, he fucking wears like, tacky patterned shirts that are expensive but ugly. someone please help him.

all about fun socks! he loves owning socks that have dumb little images on them. if you get him a pair of fun socks, he’d absolutely go nuts. his entire week: made.

he leaves his roommate limericks when he senses they are sad. tapes em to the bathroom mirror or leaves them in the fridge. also loves buying people presents. tiny ones. like haunted looking things from second hand stores, or your favorite chocolate. also is the sort of friend that has EVERYTHING in his bag, in case someone cuts themselves or has a headache. can be a bit of a mom himself. it’s the little things, y’know?

prob still in his emo phase. listens to way too mcr to not be lmao.

eco-friendly king, will not stand for you not recycling.

if you will allow him, he will attempt to have a secret handshake with you. he’s a child. is dying for someone to memorize the parent trap handshake and indulge him.

cannot sit still in a chair. fidgets an excessive amount, the bobbing of his knee and the squirming around. it just never ends.

bi. that’s the hc.

he’s a little bit in love with everyone he meets if you couldn’t tell, and it’s fucking disastrous.

he is based loosely off: patroclus ( the song of achilles ), ponyboy curtis ( the outsiders ), laurie laurence ( little women ), eduardo saverin ( the social network ), remus lupin ( hp ), oliver marks ( if we were villains. )

( @opalsmedia )

#opalsintro #intro #his background and things are in the big ass bio dfsklds but this is the gist of it lol

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aotopmha · 3 years

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I have a whole bunch of AoT shipping asks ranging from neutral to angry to looking for validation and I'm so tired of this stuff.

Counter to this wierd trend about how the final arc of the series is trash because Eren turned out to be an "embarrassing loser", I think there is a whole bunch to talk about in there that isn't about shipping.

(If you like shipping and are a decent person, cool, but I'm just tired and frustrated with the bad parts of it.)

The whole damn point of this series for the longest time for me has been that none of the characters are "cool".

They're all fucking losers. Kind of like real people.

Why does shit like psychics and flat earth theory still have followers to this day, even gaining popularity in these recent years? Why don't people just overcome their prejudice for other races? Why do people stay in unhealthy relationships?

Why doesn't that suicidal person just start loving themselves again?

I think this irrationality is the main aspect of humanity AoT wants to highlight.

I see people looking in from the outside being mystified by these "irrational" decisions done by people all the time. People laugh at and mock these "stupid" behaviours while perhaps not being able to recognise they themselves might have similar ones.

For a personal example, I always think about people who are angry at animal cruelty, but then pretty casually eat beef, pork or chicken, the production of which often entails a lot of animal cruelty.

For an even stronger personal example that kind of source of frustration for me comes from people who claim their perspective is objective. What makes that particular person the arbiter of all truth?

But going back to AoT, Erwin might be a genius tactician, but he's a human being still affected by his personal experiences and perspective. He hates himself for all of the deaths he has caused so all of his most desparate tactics are going to involve self-harm.

There is a very large difference between emotional intelligence and tactical intelligence.

I think this is Zeke's flaw, too. He is smart when it comes to tactics, but in turn is heavily affected by his personal need of connection and validation. The potential kinship he could find with Eren was the determining factor of his strategy and so were his relationships with Grisha and Xavier, not what the most logical option was.

This is what I think tearing Eren's mask away in the final chapter brought full circle and I think is the most interesting aspect of the story I'm left with after its end.

It tore away Eren's dignity and was embarrassing and stupid, but I think that was the point and because this kind of behaviour is viewed as childish, stupid and hard to watch, it destroyed a lot of (lady) boners. That's not comfy or escapism. It's not the specific kind of narrative that has some conflict, but never really veers into the uncomfortable.

Eren's flaws aren't a slap on the wrist. He is a loser. Period.

I think the aspect of Eren being exhausted came out the most in the anime for me and as I've read the final chapter so many times now, I get much more exhaustion from Eren than anything else.

He is exhausted and desparate and Armin tries everything in his power to change his mind and try to reach Eren. But because Even has grown so strong and is so set in his ways, there is nothing he can do but make the best of his situation.

Hence the now infamous line of thanking Eren for doing something horrible for them. I think the biggest nuance any analysis of that scene misses is that it's Armin accepting he can't change Eren. I get a very strong "if that's how it is, so be it" vibe from that scene. He can't change Eren, but he wants a good closure with him.

I think what a lot of people also don't consider is that again, I don't think any of the characters truly comprehend the scale of what is happening.

I think a lot about people who still deny the existence of Covid-19 even this far in the pandemic and I think many people will only truly comprehend the extent of it when they or someone they care about is affected by it and even then this is even worse when you don't really have time to digest everything that is happening. I don't think Hange's death or the death of Shadis really reached anyone even by the end of the battle because boy were these a busy few days.

I think we had a similar thing happen with the Reiner and Bert reveal. Annie's reveal and the reveal of Bert and Reiner basically happened on the same day and I think that matters however small of adetail that might be.

Same for the fact that the return to Shiganshina was a few hours at most.

All of this can be just handwaved as bad writing. All of it. But that kind of stuff bores me.

So whenever I analyse stuff, I do my best to be fair and assume the best out of a story and its writer.

So I got the most out of AoT's ending philosophically because I think the what if it presented is fascinating.

If you had to choose between you and your country and the rest of the world, what would you do?

I think in AoT's case, there was a small window of time in which patience would've solved everything, but Eren didn't have the perspective to go that way because of various factors, largely the basement memories.

But if you were put in the same circumstances without any kind of outside perspective, would you make a better choice than this?

It's so easy to say you could've done better when you can see the bigger picture.

But if you had the choice pushed on you without any context and without that bigger picture, what then?

The irrationality and stupidity of the characters is what makes AoT interesting to me.

I think when Isayama talked about whiny Eren "being back" he didn't mean it in a condescending manner. I think he likes that irrational and embarrassing Eren.

But the fact that it is willing to have its characters be that way to an extreme degree is I think what also causes alienation and removes some people's ability to empathise with the story and instead be frustrated with it, let down by it and being unable to connect with it.

It's just a fascinating piece of media for me and if there is anything, any piece of media that makes human irrationality as a big part of it, I'm all ears.

I think human irrationality has to be a part of any story. It's called characters having flaws, but if that's the exclusive, overwhelming focus, I'm right there day one and the truth is, I haven't seen many stories like that.

#Attack on Titan #Shingeki no Kyojin #Eren #Eren Jaeger #Eren Yeager #Zeke Jaeger #Zeke Yeager #Erwin #Erwin Smith #AoT #SnK

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