#there were just too many decisions to make and it made me paralysed and wanting everyone else to tell me the answers
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Personal update about my anxiety
Time for another personal update! At the moment, I'm not really in a creative mood and my projects are all resting.
I am working on more stuff in my real life, including cleaning/decluttering my apartment and working through an anxiety app which will hopefully get me to start exposure (though I shudder at the thought alone).
The funny thing is, the app is for social anxiety, and I do have some social anxiety, but I think I mainly have agoraphobia (but there is no medical app available for this at the moment, so I took the next best thing). The app said: "Let's make a gradual steps plan, you first choose a very easy step, then one that is a little harder and harder, and so on until the hardest step comes at the top." And for the easiest step, it actually suggested one of my hardest steps: going into a store, buying something, and interacting with the cashier.
Checkouts give me such anxiety. I once had a full-blown panic attack because I couldn't remember the PIN number for my credit or debit card. And I very rarely get panic attacks. Luckily, my brother was present and he was able to pay for me while I almost hyperventilated and tears were streaming down my face.
Generally, I start sweating and get shaky hands which does not help while handling cards and remembering pin numbers. I get tunnel vision and cannot focus on anything that is going on around me. Sometimes, blood rushes in my ears so I have a hard time picking up whether someone is saying anything.
Then, all items need to be put into bags at lightning speed, and I always fear that I am not fast enough and that everyone else in line is annoyed and angry with me and this makes me even more nervous. Putting things away with shaky hands is tough!
So I send my boyfriend shopping for me or buy online most of the time. If I absolutely must, I can go shopping with one of my loved ones because I feel a tiny bit calmer and know I have a safety net with me. They can also help me put stuff in my bags. But alone? That's nightmare fuel for me. Same thing with using public transportation, I just can't do it. I also have a very hard time sitting in waiting rooms at the doctor's office, I get so tense and do not know what to do with myself. Oh, and I also have severe anxiety when I need to make a phone call 😫
But all that is seriously impacting my life, as you can imagine. And I want to change something.
Since the app is not helpful with suggestions for my gradually harder steps to take, I have to come up with my own, and it is harder than I thought! All the things I think about are really hard for me, I cannot think of less hard steps to take 😣
Even just going outside without a destination/going out by myself is also anxiety-inducing for me. I feel like I am watched all the time, I get tense and my thoughts start racing or going in circles.
This also happens while I am in a store to shop for something. I get paralysed sometimes with decision fatigue and if someone else comes into the same aisle, I have the urge to run away instantly. I get so distracted that I need to spend way more time in a store than usual and this is of course not making me calmer. I am just super exhausted after going shopping!
I am proud that I leave the house twice a week now to go for a walk with my best friend though. We have just established a second day of the week this year, and we still do not go twice every week, but pretty often, which is great. And I love to walk in nature, it calms me (if there aren't too many other people around). 😊
I am also making progress with my borked sleep cycle. I am a night owl 🦉, but being awake the whole night clashes a lot with my family's plans. I have tried for months to shift it, but in the last one to two weeks, I actually made real progress and went to bed 2 to 3 hours earlier than normal, which is really huge for me! I found out that there are lots of free audiobooks on YouTube that authors upload themselves. So one hour before I want to sleep, I put one on, set a shutdown timer of 60 minutes so it will turn off after that time, and then go to bed and listen to it until I fall asleep. This has motivated me enough to actually go to bed earlier.
As a result, I get more daylight and I am more inclined to do housework, which I also struggle with in general, so this is really great! I am focusing more on that now.
I also started playing Subnautica again, but I can only play for a few hours on end because it can get pretty intense.
I kinda want to play Sims 4 again (weird, I know). My anxiety app wants me to think more positively, so instead of thinking that it is no use updating my mods because the minute I do, another patch drops anyway and I have to start all over, I should think more positively. I will probably drop the game after playing for a day anyway, so it does not need to stay updated for long! Maybe downloading and updating mods is more fun than actually playing anyway? 😆
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Ok so I need to put something out there but I keep going back and forth about telling someone or not, so a read more post on my very unpopular tumblr is a good compromise I think?
TW depression, suicide (same old, same old), looooooooong post of dramatic rambling. It is not a cry for help.
It’s happening again.
I’ve had a manic episode and now I’m back in depression. Big time. I’m starting to have these nagging thoughts about dying. The metro is stuck, what if it exploded or summat? I wake up from a xanax nap, if I were to top myself I’m definitely using that! Everybody hates me, I’m expendable. I can’t do this to my mum, granny, brothers, nephews...
And it’s hard to explain but I don’t regret any of my suicide attempts, nor do I regret having survived them. Like, I feel I made the right decision and to be honest what happened after, even all the good times, it was not that great either. Just ok enough to keep me alive, I guess it’s not that bad. And I really can’t do that to my loved ones.
My former flatmate told me she would sometimes listen to me sleep to make sure I was still alive. Last weekend, she was the one to comfort me when I broke down at another friend’s party. I hate myself for the pain I inflicted to her and I don’t want to worry her anymore. Ironically, she almost died last year from her ovocyte donation. As Depeche Mode once said "God's got a sick sense of humour”.
Anyway, I am in pain so I get these suicidal thoughts. Then I distract myself and it goes away. Then something or other reminds me the world is shit. I am in pain again. I’m not sure how long I’m going to last like this.
But, as much as I am ok with dying, I am terrified by the idea of going back to the hospital. The looney bin is a fucking prison, it’s boring as fuck and if anything it makes me want to die more. Last time, it drove me so mad I argued endlessly with the doctor and she sent me to a much, much worse place (I was in a dedicated department for mood disorders and got sent to a stricter department on the other side of the region where all types of mental illnesses, it’s fucking scary, it makes the other hospital look like a 5* hotel). Then they sent me back because I was too well for them and then annoyed the original doctor into letting me go. She was so fucking mad, it bordered on being unprofessional and I left against medical advice. I am not doing this again.
One thing that is a guaranteed ticket to the psych ward is suicide ideation with a plan. I am not there yet but I feel it creeping into my brain. I push it away as best as I can. It’s hard.
I haven’t told my therapist and psychiatrist about that. They know it’s getting bad but not about the suicidal stuff. I want to tell them but again, the hospital is weighing on me like the sword of Damocles. They’re focusing on my anxiety for now, which is good because it’s through the bloody roof atm. I keep having panic attacks and that weird thing where my brain just stops because I’ve got too many things to do at once. It’s disconcerting really, I’m sat there, paralysed for no reason.
I should break up with my therapist. I rarely get anything from our sessions. We speak about TV shows and social justice. He tells me to keep going. It’s really helpful and it’s not cheap. I should see someone new. But I don’t know how to tell him. And finding a new shrink isn’t that easy. And then starting anew. It’s hell.
I was watching a TV show earlier and one character said that even though she always says “I am a child of divorce” past the age 30, she really isn’t the produce of her parents’ love or hatred. She’s her own person. It was meant as a nice thing, an empowered statement. It just reminded me that I am alone, that friendship is nice but the support you get from your loved ones only goes so far. I think the endless propaganda about love has gotten to me because I keep thinking that if I were with someone, romantically, I would someone to count on 100%. I also don’t think it’s a very healthy dynamic. It’s conflicting.
I obviously can’t avoid talking about Starmania. The waitress, Marie Jeanne, may have shaped my identity after listening to her songs day in, day out as a kid.
She’s stuck in a menial job where every day is the same. She doesn’t know what she wants, only not work. She wants to escape. She sings that in the end, we are all alone in this world. She says her head hurts, she just wants to sleep, that we should let her die because she doesn’t to be a part of this fucking society anymore. And she’s not sure whether the society is that much of a problem or if it’s just her.
I tick every boxes here. Except I am not in love in a gay man who’s really superficial anyway.
It’s an odd conclusion but why not? My venting is over.
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14th of august, 2022.
only the day before had I just met some old friends from univ, after maybe a year of not seeing all of them. we were laughing. maybe a bit too much. and maybe at too many pointless things. astaghfirullah.
the next day, it was the 14th of august. it was just a regular Sunday afternoon. I think it had just rained.
I was lying on my bed, trying to recover my introverted self from all the energy I used to interact yesterday. having a full-time remote job now only further reduces my tolerance to long social interactions.
then came a text from one of my other friends who I haven't talked to in a while. it read,
"this is random, but ***** got married!",
shortly followed by, "kak ***, are you okay??!"
-intermezzo: I didn't even faze at first. all I could reply back to her was, "Alhamdulillaaah". I don't know why she felt the need to tell me, or even sent me a screenshot of their picture, because I haven't talked to anyone about him or anything related to for more than a year. then I remember, she's always been like that - she just wants to make sure to look out for me in her own way. but man - even with my lack of social media presence, these things somehow always find their way to me.-
after replying to her message, I just kept the chat short with her. I told her that I'm truly happy for him. that I'm relieved that he made the Islamically lawful decision. I didn't really want to drag the conversation on. truthfully, there was nothing to go on about anyway. and there shouldn't be.
but, how did I feel?
like I said, I didn't even faze at first. I think I was sort of emotionless for a bit, because I kinda expected this to happen. it was just a matter of time.
then I started looking carefully at the photos, and saw the ring on his finger, and that's when it kinda hit me.
I didn't sob straight away. I just felt a tad suffocated and dropped a tear or two. I made sure to say "ma shaa Allah", because this is a blessing for him. and I'm happy for him. I really am.
though I did feel a bit paralysed. not because I felt sad that he got married (because he deserves happiness). but because given the other events that I've had recently in my life, this news just topped it all off: I said out loud, "what is wrong with me?".
and that's when I cried.
in terms of my career, my interpersonal relationships, my goals.. nothing seemed to be going right in the past several weeks. all thoughts just came rushing through my head. what is wrong with me? why do I lack so many things? why don't I have a clear goal on what I want? why can't I make my own firm decisions? why do I hurt people? why can't I be open to new people? why am I so difficult to approach? why do I build such high, thick walls around me only to be disappointed later on when no one can pass through them? why do I engage in this so-called 'self-defense mechanism', when it's actually destroying me instead? it all gave me a big wake-up call to recalibrate some aspects of my life. it made me think that all this time I was just creating an illusion to myself, claiming that I'm doing certain things for the best, when I'm really not.
when I realised that most of these are just evil whispers, I just said the istighfar and kept praying to God to give me sabr. but I just kept going back and forth at that moment. maybe this was my state of shock.
the rest of the evening I just felt kinda sick on my stomach and found it a bit heavy to breathe. I couldn't find the energy to go out to dinner with my parents. I didn't feel hungry even though I hadn't eaten. I had planned to go for a 20-minute jog that night, but my mind just told me to quickly change into my pajamas and go to bed earlier.
I turned off the lights in my room and laid in bed, but I couldn't go to sleep for a couple of hours. I think I attempted to journal as I tried to calm myself down while listening to a lecture about sabr, but my mind just kept wondering places.
even as I'm trying to write this now, the night of the 15th, I can't keep my mind from running places. everything is a blur yet vivid at the same time.
---
Alhamdulillah, I'm so grateful to Allah. this morning, I was supposed to give an hour training to an intern, but he couldn't make it. and today, the rest of my team are on holiday, so we didn't have our usual internal and external meetings. my mom also had some errands to do, so she was out the whole day. and tonight, my friend who usually teaches us hifdh can't make it to hold the class, so it's been postponed to tomorrow. so this whole day today, I could work alone, and had the time and space to be alone.
subhanAllah. Allah knew that maybe I couldn't have the capacity to interact with people, given my current state. I mean, I'm okay and I'm not sobbing, but my mind is just all over the place to be able to interact with people properly.
but I did really cry at this thought - that Allah always watches over me, looks after me, gives me the best, yet I'm still lacking as His slave. especially these past several weeks. Ya Allah, I pray for guidance. I pray for sabr. I pray to always be steadfast in this true religion. I pray for protection from evil and unnecessary things that don't please you. I'm not perfect, forgive me, yaa Rabb.
---
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Burden To Keep - Zemo x Reader ~ Chapter Three: Safehouse
To stay or to leave - a decision has to be made. And danger is moving in on all sides.
CHAPTER TWO
SERIES MASTERLIST
MASTERLIST
Taglist: @mochminnie @noavengers @alevelez01 @boubouinscarlet
The silence didn’t last long.
“So what now?” Sam sounded angry, but you could tell it was more along the lines of agitation and frustration. It made sense. You were a wrench in their already complicated plans.
“She should stay with us,” Bucky spoke up, his eyes moving between you and Sam. “If she’s the only one left, Critical will come after her.”
“Critical?” Your brow furrowed.
“The man in charge of the people who took you,” Bucky explained.
“Look, I don’t… What you’re doing is important. I can handle myself; I just need a way out of here.” You didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. They didn’t go looking for someone to protect – they went looking for a serum. You weren’t supposed to be there.
“No offence, (Y/N), but you can’t handle them on your own.”
“Are you forgetting I’ve had the serum? That they trained me?”
“And how much real-life experience have you had?” You both already knew the answer.
Through all this, Zemo had been silent. He was a difficult man to read, but you could feel his amusement at the discussion; the more you argued, the less attention on him. But now he spoke up.
“Am I allowed an opinion?” The other men rolled their eyes but didn’t stop him from speaking. “The way I see it, another super soldier running around just causes more problems. With (Y/N) here, we can keep an eye on her, and make sure no one else gets their hands on her or her blood.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, Zemo’s right.” Sam sighed. “You’re our responsibility now.”
It was a strange feeling: people protecting you, keeping you safe. The instinct to run still pulsed under your skin. You weren’t sure if it would ever go away. But you knew they were right. So you nodded.
“Okay. I’ll stay.”
The relief in the room was practically audible – as was Zemo’s satisfaction. You were sure whatever interest he had was beyond keeping you safe, and you knew that he hadn’t told you everything about himself. At that moment you vowed to keep away from him. Regardless of his intention, he was dangerous.
Sam’s phone buzzed and he crossed to the door to answer it. Zemo brushed past you to head down the corridor, slightly too close to be considered polite. A shiver ran down your spine. You shook it off and sat back down. Bucky sat beside you, his metal fist clenching and unclenching.
“You have the serum too, right?” He nodded.
“I didn’t get to choose either.” Despite the statement, regret radiated from him. What he regretted you weren’t sure. He seemed as though he was about to speak when Sam turned back around.
“Walker is in town.” With just those four words, Bucky groaned.
“Who’s Walker?”
“The “new and improved” Captain America.” Sam mocked. That earned a glare from Bucky. Clearly, neither of them were happy about whoever this person was. “We need to go, see what he knows.”
“What about me?”
“You stay here with Zemo. It’s better if Walker doesn’t know about you.” Bucky nodded in agreement. “We won’t be long. Just don’t get into trouble.”
*
With Sam and Bucky gone and Zemo disappeared into one of the bedrooms, you were left to your own devices. The second door you tried led to a spotless bathroom, all bright light and mosaic tiles, a bathtub big enough for four and countless plush towels. The thought of a warm bath almost made you moan.
Glancing over your shoulder and seeing no sign of the criminal, you stepped inside and locked the doors. Soon the tap was gushing warm water and the room was starting to fill up with steam. Turning from the bath, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.
Do I really look like that?
You couldn’t remember the last time you truly got to see your reflection. Time had not been kind to you. There were dark shadows under your eyes, frown lines on your forehead. Light scars littering your exposed skin.
No more. You couldn’t look at yourself. There was a cupboard under the sink filled with shampoo, conditioner, body wash. You even found bubble bath.
You sank down into the warm water, the bubbles surrounding you like clouds. A shaky gasp escaped your lips as you felt true comfort. The water seemed to hold you, protect you, balm everything you had been through. It was better than you could ever have imagined. Time drifted by as you dozed off.
A knock at the door made you jolt. Panic started to flood your veins before you remembered where you were, that Zemo was still there.
“Yes?”
“Would you like something to eat?” His voice echoed through the door.
“Um… Sure.” You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and now the sun was setting. At the thought of food, your stomach rumbled. Zemo stepped away from the door and you heard the clattering of pans.
That felt like your cue to get out of the cooling water. Wrapping one of the many towels around yourself, you began to dry your skin, making sure to keep turned away from the mirror. You glanced down at your discarded clothes; you couldn’t bring yourself to put them back on. They were like a symbol of your years there. Of what you’d escaped. If you wore them, if you even touched them, you’d never be free. Instead, you slipped on your underwear and grabbed a robe from a hook beside the door. Making sure it was wrapped around you and securely tied shut, you unlocked the door and stepped back out into the living area.
Zemo was standing in the kitchen over a pot of something that smelled divine. Clutching the collar of the robe just slightly tighter you stepped up to the island.
“What are you making?” He didn’t seem surprised at your presence, giving you a brief glance over the shoulder before turning back to the food.
“Sólet.” His accent grew stronger on the word – like honey to your ears. “It’s a traditional dish. My mother… my mother used to make it when I was a child.” He grabbed a ladle from the counter and filled two bowls with stew. Turning, his eyes flicked down to where your hands held the robe and back up to look at your face.
“I- I don’t have any clothes.” You explained. He stepped around the counter to stand by your side. His hand rose just above your own to finger the fluffy fabric, examining it almost unconsciously.
“Well, we shall have to rectify that, won’t we?” The words were low. They sent a shockwave through your body – paralysing you, stealing the air from your lungs. You couldn’t speak. “For now, there are clothes you can borrow.” He stepped away and suddenly you could breathe again. “But first, eat.”
The two of you sat almost side by side – one stool acting as a buffer for your trembling heart – and ate in silence. It wasn’t quite comfortable, but there wasn’t that same tension that existed between Zemo and the others. This was something else. Something warmer. More acidic. More dangerous.
When you were done, he led you to one of the bedrooms, nodding for you to go in and closing the door behind you. In the chest of drawers, there were plenty of options – they almost overwhelmed you.
Keep it simple.
Black jeans. A dark jumper. Both were slightly too big, but that was fine. You could hide in them.
Zemo was waiting for you on the sofa. He already had his coat on but waited for you to put on your boots again before standing up.
“Should we really be going out? What about Sam and Bucky?”
“We’ll be back before them, Liebling, I promise.” He half chuckled before leading you out into the city.
There was still daylight, but the sun was low in the sky, turning everything orange as though the buildings were alight with flames. He guided you around the unfamiliar streets in silence – you both seemed to agree that speed was of the essence, and there was no time for chatting.
By the time you had bought enough clothes for a few days (or rather Zemo bought them) it was dark outside. Zemo’s stride meant you had to hurry to keep after him – so you weren’t paying attention to the people around you. Of course, you had no reason to worry; you’d been in Riga less than a day, there was no way someone could have already found you.
Or so you thought.
You were in step with Zemo when a voice called out behind you.
“(Y/N) (Y/LN).”
The two of you froze in unison. A glance to each other out of the corners of your eyes.
You turned to find a pistol pointed at your forehead.
CHAPTER FOUR
#zemo x reader#zemo/reader#helmut zemo#tfatws#tfatws x reader#tfatws/reader#helmut zemo x reader#helmut zemo/reader#sam wilson#Bucky Barnes#mcu
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Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1
Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future.
The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK.
https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/
I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post.
Words: 3116
Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog
Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.
Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On
Part 3: These Violent Delights
It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.
His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.
Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.
“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.
“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.
Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.
You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.
“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.
“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?
“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.
“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.
“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.
“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?
“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.
“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.
“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.
“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.
“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.
“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.
“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.
“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.
“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“
“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.
“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.
“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.
“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.
“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.
“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.
“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.
“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.
“Alec you are-“
“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.
“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“
“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.
“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.
“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.
“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.
“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”
“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”
“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”
Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.
“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.
“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?
“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.
“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.
You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.
“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?
“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.
“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.
“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.
“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.
“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.
You didn’t know how long that would last.
#twilight#twilight fanfiction#yandere alec#alec volturi#alec volturi x female reader#demetri volturi#felix volturi#jane volturi#request#volturi#dark themes
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You know, there's a thing with characters that foil each other and serve as the "good" and "bad" respectively (Toga/Himiko, Tenko/Izuku, Nagito/Hajime, Ryoko/Hajime, Atsushi/Akutagawa) but that trope felt rather annoying to write, especially in the world I am trying to write about (ALTERNATIVE's world is basically MHA X BSD but like. 1000 times more fucked up and the Specialised are always prejudiced against. A terrible lot).
The title itself, ALTERNATIVE is to symbolise Romila's POV of "infinite choices and paths present for every being" and how she starts off the story with a decisive line of,
"Many people ask me if this could have been avoided. They beg for me to tell them that things could have been better. There are others too, who try to justify that this was the only way for things to have been. If you ask me, both are living in states of denial. One can't accept the stupidity of humanity for disregarding common sense for violence and prejudices. Another can't accept humanity's choice for having better circumstances if the one with the power chose to."
The thing is, the running theme is that the story is a bittersweet one, despite there not being many deaths of the main characters, but there was always a junction where you can see it could have been avoided, that there was an "alternative" for things to have gotten better, especially in the first book.
Another reason for the title is that it's basically an "ALTERNATIVE" to this world of ours, where super powers and stuff like those exist.
The subtitles of both the books (Myriad of Colours, Colour of Death) signifies Romila's power, "Aura Tracker" which lets her view people's aura as colours (Myriad of Colours is to signify the different kinds of people she meets, Colour of Death is about what affects her the most (death) and how she's constantly seeing that colour everywhere, especially now that it's war).
The thing about ALTERNATIVES is that Romila could have chosen to be a doormat (like Koldin tends to be at the beginning (his rp self is like THAT due to circumstances different to ALTERNATIVE's actual storyline. Also because Hack's a nicer person to be around than Romila is) in order to nOt hAvE cOnFliCt™) to not get into conflict and put up a super nice persona for people but she didn't. She decided to focus on hanging onto her reasons for doing what she does and using it to create a caustic personality to shield herself because she knows that she will regret being a doormat (Her Despair takes the form of Koldin Hopkins).
Now Koldin could have certainly put his hatred for society at the forefront and taken a caustic personality but instead chooses to be nice. Because he doesn't want to become as hurtful as the rest, that's how he wants to disentangle himself from society. However he, like Romila (who just took standing up for herself to extremes), takes this to the extremes causing him to gain the personality of a nice boy™.
However this also goes into why they made the choices they did (which is what Romila realises during the Mansion of Death arc), because for Romila, she didn't really have the psychology for actually becoming a doormat (because a) Her mom wouldn't have it b) She hated to be called weak c) She didn't have anyone to fall back to after the inevitable consequences of being a doormat d) She felt that if she were to live with monsters, then it's easier to blend in by being one (this comes useful to her when she infiltrates into the Government) e) She saw doormats getting suicidal which frightened her) or not becoming fully caustic (since her standing up for herself wasn't. Liked. By. Anyone. And seen as aggressive and she basically went, "Well if they see me as bad, I will show them BAD" which led to her breakdown causing the incidents at the Mansion Of Death (especially a twisted hatred against Koldin for extremely understandable reasons).
For Koldin, being meek and peaceful had let him get by in the streets and his skills to difuse fights had come in handy. Later when Dr. Hopkins took him in, he was well. A member of the Radicals who were known to be extremely merciless towards the Specialised (he had defected but Koldin had a REALLY good reason to be wary) so he figured if he stayed nice, he wouldn't be kicked out of the house and Dr. Hopkins being Dr. Hopkins just assumed that it was his normal and that behaviour carried into school. He figured that it was a horrifying thing to be aggressive and then saw how Romila got treated and decided that yep, he was right, that confirmed his world view alright and it was more reason to be super nice. While Romila saw Koldin as a person who everyone took advantage of (a thing she hated. To be exploited just like that) and went, yep that confirmed hers and it was more reason to be super angry.
However the thing is that, Romila was chided for being anything, which caused her to just give up to be peaceful (because what would she do? Anything she tried to do got her scolded) while Koldin (thankfully) found a support system. It really goes to show the difference a good friend can do.....
As it is, when I first began writing this, the most obvious choice presented itself to me. Koldin is the "hope" and Romila is the "despair" (on the protagonist, deutergonist side) but that seemed stupid and boring as it wouldn't make sense. Since I am trying to make a point of showing with how Romila's world view gradually changes from "there are wrong and right choices" to the fact that it doesn't have to be rigid and that *now* she wouldn't be hurt if she used what her vulnerable side wanted (a world free of prejudices and unnecessary cruelty) with the talents she had. That kindness mixed with her usual personality won't literally kill her.
And for Koldin, being a doormat means that he got taken advantage of a lot by different people and since he refused to actually stand up for himself ("Ah...aha......it seems that I can't..." "Can't what?" "Feel angry for myself......it's always anger that comes from the ones I love being hurt" "Then love yourself too, you will feel angry again" ~ Koldin's conversation with his inverted self in the Labyrinth) he got. Taken advantage of. By virtually everyone. However he decided that if being nice would keep him keep his self and his name self then it would be fine. He did not want to be the source of grief (his actual parents tossed him out because of his Specialisation). The Mansion Of Death actually causes him to snap for that reason, because Romila literally puts him in a torture dream "for the greater good" and then proceeds to kill his dear friend. One thing Koldin HATED. Killing friends. (Due to them being run over by a car, which led to his paralysed left arm)
Now on the other side, their respective friends:
Romila:
Luja: Cynical and annoyed by people's stupidity but not to caustic extents and she wants to be a scientist and isn't haunted by the possibility of dying.
Kratanos: Full of anger and hatred against the world but not entirely blinded by it and is focused to using that anger for reformation of the world (she becomes a therapist later, to help people)
They both have her caustic parts but they also let themselves embrace another side which makes them her "balance".
Koldin:
Anand: Believes that there's no requirement for violence unless it's absolutely necessary.
Karishma: Figures it's a better idea to just listen to rules but doesn't hesitate to break them if she sees that they are bs
They both have his peacefulness, but don't hesitate to do what they think they should do, which makes them his "balance".
The point is that, the case of choosing alternatives isn't possible with a tunnel vision. Even so, there are choices that literally can't be made due to the individual and circumstances. Sometimes the choice is to choose more than one choice. Well, that's one dramatic storyline......
It reminds me of DDLC side stories since everyone has a bit of the other person's solutions and more of a opposite personality (don't take this the wrong way, there are many stories like that and it's honestly a favourite to think abt but it's just that DDLC does it well especially since it's only a school environment). Tbh, I like dramatic storylines that rlly dig deep into a character's perspective (reasons why I'm in love with Hack and Axel in particular). My whole thing is that I'd rather read a story with interesting and in depth characters than one where only the plot is good so I say you made the great call of the century with Koldin and Romila's characters.
What you thought before getting into it is rlly how every great character arc starts. You focus on one, somewhat forget the other one until you review every single character for inspiration and then BAM! PARALLELS! It's really admirable how, even in this messed up world of specializations, you didn't purely focus on the plot bc it honestly sounds interesting enough to just stick around for Romila's life and journey. You could have ended it all with just that, but no, you smacked Koldin in there and said "be my interesting on par character that can kick Romila's gut" and IT WORKED SPECTACULARLY!!!
I really love ur writing and hoping to one day read (and maybe print out) every story you've ever written bc GODDAMNIT I NEED THE FEELING OF THOSE WORDS ON WORN PAPER WITH AN ARTISTIC COVER AND AN AMAZINGLY HEAVY WEIGHT
Aka, paperback. Bc that's how I like to roll and that's how good I think it is. 1000% worthy of a bestseller
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Alice in Gotham (Jervis Tetch x Reader)
This is crazy, by the way." You mumbled to yourself.
"Are you sure you still want to do this?" Batman looked down at you and you nodded. "I've come this far."
"Remember I won't be far away and I won't let you out of my sight." Batman reminded you. "Yeah, got it. You nodded, run your hands through your new hair.
It was actually a wig, a blonde one that was styled like Alice from Alice in Wonderland. You wore a black skirt and white shirt with a black ribbon under the collar. After that was a red coat that you left unbuttoned and red lipstick to match. You memorised lines from the story but regardless, the blonde hair was important. It would be what fixates him. It was always the first thing that draws him in and then he can't let go.
It was very cold in Gotham on this particular night and you weren't sure if your trembling was in anticipation, fear or simply the cold. The plan was unconventional and utter madness, but so was Jervis Tetch. If you kept your distance from him, lured him away, then it would be fine The hostages would be safe.
Getting in was tricky, you had to be silent and create an exit for yourself. A quick and easy one. Luckily enough, the buildings entrance door had no door. Unfortunately, there were corridors upon corridors, like a maze.
It seemed almost fitting that he chose this place.
However your stomach dropped when you found he wasn't alone.
Two-Face, Scarecrow and the Riddler were also present with Jervis.
You silently cursed to yourself.
These other criminals made it significantly more difficult, not to mention two of which being genius level in intelligence.
You were going to just leave, you turned, ducking behind a corner before Jervis' voice rang out. "Alice?"
Your eyes widened and you hurriedly moved into a dark room. Hiding under the table under the window. He had to have seen the blonde curls, that's the only thing that would ever spot a mile away.
"Tetch, now is not the time for your damn hallucinations! No one is there!" Two-Face snapped.
"I'm certain! Certain, see!"
Someone sighed. "Well why don't you show me where you saw Alice, hm?" The voice was much less rough than Two-Face's whilst the Riddler's voice was always filled with narcissism.
That left only Jonathan Crane- the Scarecrow.
You heard them grow closer, turning the corner stopping outside the room you were in.
"Are you certain you saw her? You know the mind tends to play tricks..." Jonathan asked. His voice was monotone and smooth, a complete opposite to his frightening obsession with fear.
"Certain, I am, Mr Crane! Certain, I am! Poor Alice must not have seen me. A dark night this can be!" His words sent a shiver down your spine. Jervis wouldn't be anywhere near as intimidating if he spoke like an ordinary person.
The door of the room you were hiding in creaked open and a light scanned the room. The table blocked any chances of you being found. Your eyes boring into the two pairs of legs. Your heart pounded in your ears but you tried to keep your breathing as quiet and to a minimum.
"Come on, already!" Two-Face's voice rang out.
Jervis huffed. "Dismissive! Rude! I don't like your attitude!" Jervis called back but they turned out the light and walked away. You couldn't help but silently thank Harvey for saving you even though he didn't intend to.
This building had previously been offices, as hinted by the many rooms sectioned with dividers and many old computers. All left abandoned as though everyone collectively got up and left without explanation.
"Well, I say Crane, Nygma and I take this lot a couple of floors up. We all know Jervis isn't any help with that." Two-Face grumbled.
Jervis made a noise of protest.
"He's right, Jervis. You keep an eye on things down here. Come up to floor 1 in ten minutes." You didn't understand how everything Edward said, came off as smug. It was odd and very annoying.
"Everyone, up!" Two-Face roared and you heard rustling, a cluster of footsteps, cries and whispers in fear.
The three escorted the group and you hid behind the furthest corner. None of the Villains caught sight of you but a couple of hostages did. They sent you pleading looks filled with terror and tears. You put a finger to your lips, nodding at them.
It was the most assurance you could give.
"Oh how I do wish it was time for tea!" Jervis almost whined to himself as the group headed upstairs.
You had to follow them, you knew you did but the Batman was specific, focus on Jervis. Although you couldn't bring yourself to leave the building without those hostages guaranteed safety. You were also very conscious of the tracker attached to your shirt. If Batman entered through this floor, there was a chance the other three would catch on.
Maybe it was a terrible decision but it was what you came up with at the time. You'd have to follow them up there and you'd have to get Jervis to follow you. You considered getting his attention and making a run for the stairs but then you'd run into the other villains and the hostages. Then an idea struck you. If you could get Jervis' attention for a couple of minutes, letting those upstairs be settled and then come up there, they'd think nothing of it.
Then your remembered Edward saying ten minutes.
Ten minutes, you could do that.
You picked up a tiny stone from the doorway, it was small enough and heavy enough to make a noise but not too much noise as to alert upstairs. You tossed it and it bounced off the opposite wall with a 'clack'.
It got Jervis' attention, you heard him approaching.
"Little mouse? Little door mouse?" He stood at the door looking at the stairs before turning in the other direction.
At the same time you moved forward before running off as quietly as you could. With some luck, he seemed to catch a glimpse of the blonde hair.
"Alice!?" Jervis' voice rose slightly with excitement and wonder.
He moved forward.
He turned the corner and headed down the corridor, looking into a few rooms every so often.
"Curiouser and curiouser!" He said in awe. "Alice, is that you?"
Minutes passed of you hiding and Jervis still hunting for you. Although he never ran towards you.
That was odd but it seemed he was also growing more concerned that you weren't real meaning you'd have to take things up a notch.
"Don't hide from me, Alice!" Jervis said weepily. "
“Who am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle!" You said passing the hallway before him.
Jervis' face lit up. "Alice! It is you!"
"Off with their heads!" You whispered loudly, the corridor carrying your voice. You waited until he was turning the corner before you turned another corner. Heading to the stairs.
You stood by the stairs waiting for him. As he turned the corner, he was almost taken aback that you didn't disappear. He slowed down, half way down the corridor and almost uncertain- trying to read your expression.
"It is not time for tea yet, Alice..."
You pressed a finger to your lips. "We're late, so very late..." You turned to the stairs hurrying up them but still trying to be quiet.
"Alice! Come back!"
You heard Jervis hurry after you. You quickly moved into another office, closing the door behind you, matching the others. This time hiding in a cupboard.
Jervis looked around, seeing nothing but dim corridors and closed doors. "Alice?" Jervis whispered in a singing voice.
Suddenly Edward and Jonathan turned the corner before him.
Edward sighed. "That was eight minutes but I suppose it's the best you can do." Edward rolled his eyes. He moved towards a new set of stairs whilst Jonathan lingered, his eyes on Jervis.
Jervis quicky hushed him. "Alice is here!"
"Jervis, we've been through this. Alice isn't here. She may be in wonderland." Jonathan replied with ease.
"I must insist Mr Crane, we cannot delay! Alice is hiding! I haven't the slightest idea why!"
You slowly climbed out of the cupboard to see Batman watching you from the opposite building. He nodded to you, giving you the signal to get out.
If Jervis follows you. It's a success but don't let anyone catch you.
You nodded back before slowly opening the door.
You quietly moved for the stairs that went downstairs but your blood ran cold when you found both Jonathan and Jervis down the hall in front of you, the stairs being to your right.
Jervis lit up in glee once again and you stood in complete fest, both Jonathan and Jervis staring at you. You should have made a run for it. You were internally screaming at yourself to move, but you didn't paralysed under their gazes.
"Do you see Mr Crane!? Alice is here!"
Jonathan's faces changed to a sinister smirk. "I do see Jervis." He responded as though talking to a child.
You had to do something and fast. Words tumbled out before you could stop them. "Hatter, you didn't comply with the Red Queens demands."
Jervis looked surprised, whether it was because you spoke or because of your statement, you couldn't be sure.
"Demands!?" Jervis echoed in surprise. "Whatever do you mean, Alice!?"
"The Red Queen ordered that you came alone, Hatter. It's a very important matter!" You responded.
"I do not recall!"
Whilst fear remained etched upon your features, you willed yourself to look more disappointed. "Now I have to go. Back to wonderland, I must go." Your hands moved to your neck. "The queen will have my head...I believe so."
Jonathan chuckled marching forward.
"Come with me Jervis, back to Wonderland. It's become quite strange." You said before sprinting for the stairs.
Within seconds Jervis and Scarecrow were outside the building, just in time to see you fall to the ground with a screech as Batman landed inches away from you. By the time you had unshielded your face, the two were out cold. You weren't sure what Batman had done to put them unconscious but you had no time to act as the GCPD, filed into the building guns at the ready but remaining quiet.
"Floor three." You told Commissioner Gordon who led you into a police car. You moved for the make up wipes Gordon had kept for you, exhaustion overtaking you. Gordon, however, stopped you. "Sorry, (Y/N), I'm afraid you're not done yet. We'll need you to keep going in Arkham."
"For what?" You asked.
"Just trust us, it's Batman's idea. It won't be too long."
You sighed. Almost immediately when you were asked to change into your next outfit. However you were exhausted. How did anyone, hero or villains do this almost every night?
How did the Arkham staff deal with the criminally insane day in and out?
“Imbeciles!” Edward spat in annoyance. “Where were you!?”
“Shut. Up.” Jonathan groaned rubbing his aching head. “The batman attacked us and we had an intruder. It turns out ‘Alice’ was very much real.”
“What?” Two-Face grumbled.
“We had company.” Jonathan replied gruffly.
“Unbelievable!” Edward huffed.
“Alice...” Jervis said weepily to himself.
“Welcome back!” The Joker cried out before letting out a maniacal laugh.
“Shut it, clown!” Two-Face snapped.
“That was quick.” Someone else said, it sounded like it could have been Penguin.
With a series of buzzing the doors opened. Jervis' eyes widened as you came in. His Alice, you were still here! You were dressed in a nurses uniform, moving to his cell and stopping before the door.
"Alice!"
You shifted your weight uncomfortable as Jervis clambered to his feet, hands pressed against the cell door. "Alice! You're here!"
"That's not Alice, you moron!" Edward snapped in annoyance from behind you. "That's the same person from back at the building. Jervis saw them." Jonathan smirked.
"Well what the hell are they doing here!? Here to gloat!?" Edward said icily in response.
"Alice-!"
"Jervis." Jonathan interrupted with a firm tone. "That isn't Alice. They're fooling you. They're pretending."
"We're all mad here." You said simply as though it would have made sense for a response.
However Jervis seemed to believe it. "No, Mr Crane! I assure you! I know! I know! It's my dear Alice who has come to say hello!"
"He's so stupid." Edward said to himself.
Jervis looked around you, eyes narrowing on Edward. "There's no need to be rude! That's not the right attitude!"
"Hatter?" You gained his attention once more. "You're my friend aren't you?"
"A friend, a friend! A friend until the end!"
"The Red Queen demands answers. It'll be off with my head if I don't have her answers." You continued. "I need to know what you were doing there...with them."
"Don't tell them!" Edward said sharply.
"It's a lie." Jonathan warned Jervis.
Even Jervis looked uncertain so you tried harder.
"Hatter." You reached out between the bars grabbing hold of his arm.
Jervis looked stunned and even you froze when you realised what you had done. "Hatter, I've trusted you since I met you. I need you to trust me."
"Working for the Red Queen is trouble, dear Alice. This is what happens when you're without me." Jervis said, any childlike tones in his voice were long gone. You nodded. "When you're better, you'll be back. Until then...it's only for a little while. So please...please tell me, what your plan was?"
"Jervis!" Jonathan snapped but Jervis didn't acknowledge him.
"Mr Crane needed test subjects to test his new formula-"
"Shut up!" Edward yelled.
"Damn it to hell!" Jonathan seethed.
"We're planning something big Alice. Perhaps after that, we can free you from the Red Queen!" Jervis finished.
You nodded, pressing him to keep going.
"Alice? Why did the Red Queen choose you?"
It was fake, that you couldn't forget but you couldn't help but wonder the same thing. More specifically, why did the Batman choose you?
You took a moment to respond. "For the same reason, a Raven is like a Writing desk." You said softly. "I haven't the faintest idea." You whispered.
"Do you enjoy playing mind games with someone who is mentally ill?" Jonathan, now sounding significantly more contained, asked you.
You didn't look at him but he continued.
"Or perhaps you won't be able to sleep tonight?" He was trying to guilt trip you. That you knew, you also knew it was working. You checked the pocket watch you had been given before stuffing it back in your pocket. Five minutes were up. You were out of time.
"Gotta go." You said quietly.
"Where?" Jervis looked alarmed.
"I had to speak to you but I was only given so much time. Now it's time to go back to Wonderland." You gave him a small smile, turning on your heel and leaving.
You felt Jervis' eyes on your back the entire time, until you were out of sight.
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[CN] ASMR Transcripts (Kiro)
🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for ASMRs which have not been released in English servers! 🍒
This post contains transcripts of the following:
> night warmth - 黑夜温度
> dawn - 晨光
> visiting his workplace on the beach - 海岛探班
night warmth - 黑夜温度
[ MC and Helios are being chased by a police car. Heavy panting. ]
Here. Hurry.
Don’t make a sound.
We’re safe for now.
…have you hugged me enough.
You’re right. This place is very dark and cramped.
You’re afraid?
…I said it before. Stay away from me.
[ Sound of ruffling and Helios tapping on his phone ]
We have to stay here until we can be certain of our safety.
My phone still has battery. There’s enough for it to be used as a light source.
Hm? What’s wrong?
It’s just a bruise. It wouldn’t affect anything.
I don’t need this…
Wait.
[ Sound of bandages ]
Don’t touch…
…it doesn’t hurt.
You don’t have to be so careful.
I wouldn’t become paralysed from this level of injury.
Why are you looking at me like that?
…I already said that it doesn’t hurt. I don’t want to repeat myself again.
You shouldn’t need to understand these things, much less interfere in them.
You…
What’s wrong with your hand?
Don’t move.
Only now do you know what pain is?
Open your hand. Put it here.
…come nearer.
What are you hiding from? I haven’t even started.
Put your hand properly. Don’t tremble.
…does it hurt?
I got it. I’ll be gentler.
Since you’re so afraid of pain, you should remember this clearly. Don’t be a busybody, especially when it comes to me.
There is a reason for that.
Tell me… you know quite a lot.
However, being bold isn’t necessarily a good thing.
[ Sound of running ]
There’s movement.
[ Sound of running ]
…they’ve gone far away.
What’s wrong? Why are you so warm?
Shh…
Don’t make a sound.
…looks like you have a fever.
The wound may have an infection.
Hang in there. I’ll bring you out soon.
Shh, don’t make a sound.
What did think I was going to do…
Fever and chills.
Come closer to me.
Even closer.
Treat this as thanks for “saving” me again.
I wouldn’t care about you the next time.
I hope there wouldn’t be a next time.
What are you laughing at?
Like a disobedient child stuck in a small black house?
You still have the mood to joke around?
Looks like you’re still clear-headed
Very strong… nothing.
If you’re tired, you can lean on me and sleep for a while.
Hm? You don’t dare to sleep?
Aren’t you very bold?
They likely think we have already escaped.
So once it’s dark, we can leave.
This time, after we part, I hope I’ll never meet you again.
At least, not in such an embarrassment situation.
You’ve fallen asleep so quickly.
For now, have a good sleep.
dawn - 晨光
[ Kiro waking up. Cute grunts ]
Hm? Are you awake?
What time is it?
[ Kiro unlocks his phone to check the time ]
It’s still early.
[ Kiro taps on his phone, then locks it ]
Savin says he’ll pick me up at 9am.
I can still sleep for another two hours.
Hm? Didn’t you know that Savin moved house recently?
Coming here requires him to take the most congested route in all of Loveland City.
Besides, it’s the early morning peak period now.
Last night, I saw that he was still singing karaoke at 1am on Moments.
He won’t make it at 9am.
[ Rustling ]
And I haven't been busy lately.
I’ll be investing in two days.
[Note] He actually says “进组” (“jin zu”), but I don’t know what it means even after searching it up. The closest thing I could find is the phrase “带资进组” (“dai zi jin zu”), which refers to how actors bring in start-up capital to invest in the crew before filming officially begins.
I’ve already pushed away jobs that should be pushed away.
These two days will just be spent recording some things in the shack.
[ Rustling and Kiro sighs ]
If I were to head over at noon, I’ll be done in the afternoon.
Hm? Do you want to look for me later?
We can go for a meal together.
[ Random grunt. Kiro sighs again, followed by a long period of silence ]
Oh right!
The program you mentioned the other time.
How’s it going? Smoothly?
I was going to ask you about it on the plane yesterday.
But once we met, I forgot about it.
Savin mentioned that you even asked for his help to find a celebrity who’s good at variety shows.
Have you found one?
In your proposal this time, is there nothing I can help with?
[ Rustling ]
‘No’?
How could there be nothing?
Hmph. Don’t underestimate me.
Even though I have more experience on stage,
When it comes to staging lights and acoustics,
I’ve done my research too.
I wouldn’t be much worse than experienced staff.
Also, if I can’t be a guest on your program,
I could be a member of the staff.
And my rates are very cheap.
If you’re the one hiring me, I’ll give you a large discount.
Hm? Why are you suddenly looking at me like that?
I’m not thinking of anything bad.
I’m just thinking…
I don’t seem to be very busy in the later half of the year.
If you aren’t busy either, we can spend more time together.
If you’re very busy, I can accompany you to work.
It’s so rare for us to have time. I have to cherish it.
Having more things to look at, having more songs to write, and seeing you more frequently.
Don’t worry, I really have time.
[ Rustling ]
I’m not the lead in this show.
So I can finalise it in around a month.
Mm! Even though I’m not the lead, I really like this role.
And it’s the first time I’m acting as someone’s brother.
I don’t know if I can act it well.
What’s wrong?
Did it leave you in shock that I’m not the lead?
Do you also think I should only accept lead roles?
Actually, Savin and I have discussed this matter.
He’s the same as always, leaving the decision to me.
So I think…
They’re all fine. I’ll just look at the script.
And the director this time round specially explained his reason for not casting me as the lead.
It made me feel a little embarrassed.
He’s an incredibly experienced director,
But still had to consider these trivial things for me.
[ Kiro sighs ]
Maybe my schedule was too packed with work before.
So it caused people to misunderstand.
Which is why I want to tidy it up from now onwards.
And not stretch myself too thin,
And to give myself more time to digest the work on hand.
[ Kiro sighs. Long silence again where you can hear Kiro’s breathing. ]
Hm? Are you getting up now?
I’m not that tired either.
But I keep thinking it’s a loss to get up when the alarm hasn’t sounded yet.
You said you didn’t want to get up and yet can’t sleep.
What should we do then, Miss Chips?
[ Rustling ]
I’m not referring to playing games, or watching the television, or using the phone.
[ Rustling. It sounds like he’s FEELING HER UP. ]
Looks like my intelligent and adorable Miss Chips has finally guessed it.
Which is why you’re using the blanket to cover your head.
Hmm, you can’t do that.
Weren’t you the one who said that on account of how I’ve been working hard during this period, you’d reward me with food and drinks?
If you say things you don’t mean,
I’ll be very upset.
I’ll count to three.
If you don’t take more initiative, I’ll do it myself.
Although I never bully you, being a little mischievous occasionally should be okay, right?
Three.
[ Rustling ]
Are you sure you don’t want it?
[ Kiro laughs ]
Two.
[ Kiro sighs ]
Looks like Miss Chips really isn’t afraid.
One.
I’ll be gentle.
[ Rustling ]
I promise.
[ A lot of rustling. Kiro breathes heavily. ]
visiting his workplace on the beach - 海岛探班
[ sound of waves on the shore + footsteps ]
Miss Chips, you’re here…
Don’t worry, it’s just that today’s shoot started too early.
I’m not very tired.
…of course I’m not lying to you.
[sighs] Come, sit over here.
How is it? Isn’t it very comfortable here?
Mm, I like staying by the seaside too…
Just being under the sun and feeling the sea breeze makes me feel so happy.
[laughs] But… with Miss Chips visiting me at work, I’m even happier.
[ zipping sounds ]
Hm? This is a “visiting at work” gift for me?
Wow, it’s a coconut from here.
As expected of my Miss Chips, who knows me best in the entire world.
You actually knew that I happened to be thirsty right now.
…mm, I see the opening.
…mm, very fresh and sweet.
Come, you can try it too… mm?
Why do you need to insert another straw?
Don’t move. I’ll just hold the coconut and feed you… open your mouth.
How is it? Does it taste delicious?
Ahh I’m sorry, it spilt onto your clothes…
[ tissue wiping sounds ]
…all right, it’s just that the collar is still a little wet.
Want to loosen your collar slightly?
Maybe it’d dry a little faster.
…don’t look at me with that expression. I really didn’t do it on purpose.
[ tissue patting sounds ]
[laughs] But there’s some coconut juice at the corner of your mouth which hasn’t been wiped clean…
[ tissue wiping sounds ]
[kiss] All right, it’s clean now…
…but I realised something earlier.
And that is… coconut juice is really very sweet. It’s savoury, especially…
[kiss] Eh, why is your face suddenly so red?
I know, I know, it’s the sunlight’s fault for being so strong on the seaside…
Miss Chips’ reddish cheeks were under the sun, and it’s definitely not because she’s shy.
No, it has nothing to do with you…
I accidentally bumped into something this morning during the filming.
Mm. I’ve already applied medicine. It doesn’t hurt at all, don’t worry.
Also, the moment I see you, I immediately come back to life.
…as long as Miss Chips is by my side, it’s already the greatest show of support.
However, the most effective way of visiting me at work is actually…
Come a little closer and I’ll tell you.
[ ruffling sounds ]
[kiss] To me, this is the most effective way of visiting me at work.
[ many more kisses ]
On a contented afternoon, quietly sitting by the seaside,
Having Miss Chips beside me,
Along with her hugs and kisses…
[sighs] This kind of visits at work are what I’ve always longed for… very perfect.
[sighs] Promise me that in every film I shoot in the future,
You’ll try your best to visit the set once, okay?
Because I hope you can always participate in my life.
[laughs] …all right, I’ll take it that you’ve agreed.
Don’t worry… this place is very hidden, and no one will come…
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Henry Orenstein
I'm going to tell you a story. It jumps around a little, to future and past, and it has a big twist in it that I'm going to need you to trust me on. Because of that, the fold - and content warning - is coming later than you'd expect.
This story, started, for me, on the Transformers wiki.
This is a Rubsign. It's a small piece of plastic that's heat-reactive. When Transformers started out as a brand, there was an immediate push to make cheap knockoff toys with similar ideas. In order to 'protect' the brand and ensure kids only wanted to buy the genuine Transformers, they developed something that they could pretend was part of the play pattern: a small symbol on the robot's body that had the silhouette of either the Decepticon or Autobot faction, and you wouldn't know for sure if you didn't heat it up, usually as a child, by rubbing it with your finger.
Transformers, and their gimmick of 'transforming', is essentially, open source. You can't copyright it or even copyright the techniques of a mould. This is one of the reasons there's so many knockoffs of those toys — the actual technique of a transforming toy is pretty much uncopyriteable method.
The rubsigns, however, were made with patented technology; not only weren't other people allowed to put them on their toys, but even worse, they simply couldn't make them because the method for their creation was proprietary. What I thought as a child was a clever way to represent a disguise, for a moment of tension in the narrative, was really just a corporate control collar, a thing that meant they could draw a hard line between their version of the idea and the other, shitty ones, so I could ensure my collection of second hand transforming robot toys was properly branded.
Rubsigns are a cop is what I'm saying.
But, they had to be invented.
This is Henry Orenstein. Learning about the origin of the rubsign meant learning that to my surprise, the patent for them is not held by The company per se, but is instead partially owned by Hasbro, and partially owned by this one dude, Henry Orenstein.
When I found his name in the Transformers wiki, the wiki stated, perhaps boldly: His life is more interesting than Transformers.
Bold claim.
This is professional Poker. It's a well known game that involves players playing for extremely large sums of money, often with similarly large sums of money involved in the buy-in. It's grown in popularity over the past twenty years, in part because of improvements in presenting the game to an audience. Back in 1995, a patent was filed for a device known as a hole camera, which let the broadcasters collect the information about the players' hands without doing anything that disrupted the natural flow of the game. The hole camera was used in 1999, and that's about when poker started to pick up in public discourse.
And the patent for the earliest hole camera (which isn't used much any more) is to a guy named Henry Orenstein. So important was this - and his winnings and his achievements lifetime - that he's been inducted into the Poker Hall of Fame.
This is a Johnny Seven OMA, which were made by Topper Toys. And that's a company Henry Orenstein founded to make his toys after being annoyed at how expensive dolls and toy guns were for poor kids. Topper Toys eventually folded into another brand, Deluxe Reading, which I understand if you are a hardcore toy collector, really into things like barbie accessories and cross compatibility, is very important to the hobby.
This background was how Henry got the attention of Hasbro, and wound up working with them on acquiring new toy properties. That meant he was in position to be in Japan, looking at Takara and Microchange toys, and come back with the idea of acquiring both toy sets, and rebranding them as Transformers in 1980.
Interesting dude, right? He should write a memoir.
Except he did already:
And now, when we jump back in the story, I have to say: Content Warning: Nazis.
Henry Orenstein was born Henryk Orenstein, one of five Jewish children to a Polish family, born in Hrubieszów, Poland, 1923. That is to say, when he was 16 years old, the Nazis invaded and occupied his country. This was obviously not ideal, and the Orensteins first hid themselves in their house through secret passages and hidden chambers between the walls. When the food and water ran out, the parents made the painful decision to surrender to arrest, in the hopes of keeping their children alive.
Henryk's parents were taken, shipped to a camp, and shot. The children were then sent to a camp, where Henryk dedicated a plan to keeping moving. If they were being moved around, transferred from thing to thing, if the person in charge of them was different from time to time, nobody would have the time to really make a protracted plan to execute them. That, hypothetically, was the idea. This meant that he and his siblings were in five different concentration camp - including the camp run by Amon Goeth, the villain of Schindler's List.
They end up in the camp in Budzyń. A few days after arrival, a report comes over the loudspeaker that 'Any Jews with math or science training must report to front office'
and Henryk signs himself and his brothers up.
... they did not have math or science training
See, as things were Getting Worse towards the end of the war, the Germans were trying to maximise the resources they did have. This is part of the grouping of things you'd possibly hear as the wunderwaffe — the preposterous weapons of the later days of Hitler's aspirations. You may know these as a sequence of History Channel tv ads, like Hitler's Greatest Tanks or Superboats or The Cannon That Shoots Time Frozen Chunks Of Hitler's Future Brain or whatever. Nowadays, wunderwaffe is a German word primarily used sarcastically, in case you're curious. The Nazis were desperate, because they were a bunch of sucky losers who couldn't make anything good on their own —
And never did
— they instead tried to turn their prisoners to the task of solving their problems with the finest of Nazi Bullshit Magic. At this point, Henryk is maybe nineteen years old, and he and his brothers are signed up to the camp's equivalent of the Shed they dump the A-Team in. The scientists in charge of the lab are scared: if this fails, they're just wasting manpower, and while the Jewish subordinates may fail, if they fail, they're going to get shipped to the front and treated like meaty bullet catchers.
Henryk, recognising the situation, proceeded to run cons on the Nazis with his brothers.
They made bullshit devices that wouldn't work, but did look like they worked. They stole from the labs. They crafted things that could be faked to working but wouldn't work for real. They entertained the scientists with the finest of hokum. And then the researchers, full of relief that they wouldn't become a statistic on a Soviet soldier's bayonet, started to talk about how great their progress was of Doing Science At Shit to their command.
Command released an order to demand that these Jewish Science Wizards produce a tank paralysing gas.
Which was a problem.
Look, the Nazis were fond of demanding things that couldn't be done. Then they could shout at their subordinates who were fucking up, or they'd deliver and you looked great. Again, this is not an environment for refined science, this is a shrinking circular firing squad where everyone is trying to just not be the next person shot. But nonetheless, Tank Paralysing Gas was demanded.
Henryk and his brothers did what they could, they made something they assured the Nazis would work, and the scientists, sweating bullets, sent it off to another base to be tested.
Where it didn't work.
Obviously.
Okay, so now for a moment, consider the situation. Consider what this looks like. These scientists have sent a giant pile of reports about how great a job they were doing, and there's a big trapdoor labelled Actual Bullets on it underneath them. They just put together their wunderwaffe and sent it off to be tested, and it didn't work, so what do they do?
Blame the prisoners?
Uh, that's going to go poorly, because they were saying the prisoners were doing a great job just a few days ago.
Come clean?
Fuck off.
Okay, so what else do they have as an option? Well, they did the only thing a fascist can do. They posted through it, Nazi style.
They sent infuriated reports to the other camp. WHAT DID YOU DO TO OUR TANK-PARALYSING GAS THAT MADE IT NOT WORK!?
And... you can see how this goes.
Right now, nobody wants to be the person who admits something is wrong. Nobody wants to be the person who pulls the circle of who gets shot even closer. You don't want to tell your superiors you fucked up handling the Tank Paralysing Gas, or if you made the Tank Paralysing Gas, you don't want to tell them that the Tank Paralysing Gas didn't work.
And so back and forth they go. Testing things that won't work and demanding ever-increasing test protocols to try and make it the other person's problem. I don't have proof of it, but some accounts of the story include the two camps getting infrastructure projects like new roads to make sure the transport of the Tank Paralysing Gas works and is good and proper and anyway, the war ended before they got this resolved.
But there is paperwork, recovered during the fall of Berlin, with Heinrich Himmler's signature on it, ordering the mass production of the Tank Paralysing Gas made by Henryk and his younger brothers.
"The whole tale about the scam they pulled on the nazis is... instructive, too"
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Richard Ramirez - The Night Stalker: Family Background
Serial Killer Masterlist
Childhood Part 1
Word Count: 3505
Richard Ramirez, the man who left at least thirteen dead, paralysing the city of Los Angeles throughout the summer of 1985. His name alone makes people prickle with fear as they remember the acts of horror he committed on children and adults alike. Yet he still fascinates people; the Night Stalker Case was what got me interested in true crime and how the human brain can be so drastically changed by mental and physical events. I have spent countless hours reading up on his crimes, trial, personality, drifter lifestyle and the tragic childhood that played a huge role in creating the monster we all know and fear. I collect this information I have read many articles on Richard Ramirez and watched videos discussing his life. My main source of information was ‘The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The Night Stalker’ by Philip Carlo, I highly recommend. Georgia Marie’s video also gave a slightly summarised version of Ramirez’s life so watch that here if you are interested.
Compared to the other detailed multiple part series I am doing for the Serial Killers, this one is going to be exceptionally long simply because I have copious amounts of information about Richard. The other Serial Killers I cover will be very detailed as well don’t worry I just simply have so much I want to share about him. We will start with the background of his family, the next part will cover his childhood however I cannot confirm when it will be out but I am writing it from now. Anyway, lets get into the background of the Ramirez family.
With three older brothers and an older sister, Richard Ramirez - Richie as the family fondly remembers him - was the youngest of five to Julian Tapia Ramirez and Mercedes Ramirez.
Julian Ramirez was born in the rough city of Camargo in Mexico, February 16th 1927. He was the second oldest of eight children who were raised on a poor farm. He was large, with the power to match it, high well-defined cheekbones and jet-black hair making him a considerably attractive man. His features were often characteristics of the Ramirez men.
Jose Ramirez, his father, was a stern man who rarely showed any signs of joy. Jose had inherited his dark eyes and tight, firm lips from his father, Inacia, but also had inherited his Father’s horrible temper. Julian’s mother, Roberta, had died when he was only 12 leaving a lot of the responsibility to raise the large family on him since he was the oldest boy.
Corporal punishment was something Jose and Inacia firmly believed in, if any of the eight children did not keep up with expectations they were quick to receive a severe beating. It was a normal occurrence for fathers to beat their children in Mexico - to teach them respect and discipline - however the beatings from Julian’s father and grandfather often blurred the line between discipline and abuse. Inacia would beat Julian the most, tying him to a tree and whipping him with a rope causing Julian to became very withdrawn. He wouldn’t cry when he was beaten and would just wait until the older men’s anger was vented, he was beaten the most since he was the oldest.
At 14 Julian stood up for himself. He tore the belt from his father’s hands and said sternly, “You are not beating me anymore.” In Camargo a child could be executed for disobeying their father but nothing was done and from then on Julian was never beaten again. He never should have been beaten anyway, he was a good child and always did what he could to benefit his family. Julian never swore, smoked and rarely drank. He went to church every Sunday with his family and firmly believed in Jesus and the powers of Satan. He never got past the first grade in school as he was needed to work on the farm 24/7.
The city itself was small with no available electricity, railroad or even a phone so everyone knew of each other. Julian met his future wife, Mercedes, when they were 14.
Mercedes Muñoz was part of another big family, one of seven children - four boys, three girls and was born in Rocky Ford, Colorado. They were another poor family but made the most of what they could. When America joined World War II Guadalupe, Mercedes mother, decided it would be best to leave the US for Camargo. She believed her sons should not be drafted for the war because their blood should not be spilt because of the fights between politicians. It was well known the government were corrupt (some to this day still are). From the moment she arrived in Camargo she became friends with Julian’s sisters and that was how they were introduced. Mercedes was pretty, she was tall and thin, large doe-eyes, a broad forehead and her hands and fingers were long and finely tapered, ‘beautiful enough to have modelled’ - The Life and Crime of Richard Ramirez The NightStalker - Philip Carlo.
Julian and Mercedes didn’t truly start to date until 19 when they would go for walks around Camargo’s only park and watch movies at Camargo’s only cinema.
Once the war was over 1946, Nacho - Mercedes’ brother - had moved to the town of Juarez to work in a post office, Juarez was the border town beside El Paso, Texas. There was little work in Camargo due to its size so to get work you would have to move. Luckily the Muñoz children were American citizens since they were born in the United States and they could legally travel to El Paso for work so Guadalupe made the decision to move which meant Mercedes herself would have to go too. Her relationship with Julian would have to be put behind her for the time being.
After moving to Juarez in the August of 1947, any body old enough to get a job was put to work. Juarez was a very violent place and anything could be bought for not much money at all: drugs, stolen American goods, prostitutes, even sex with minors. These horrific things are common in many border towns. Mercedes found the place disgusting and horrifying, she was horrified and scared of the crimes committed all around her.
But something she looked forward to was writing to Julian, although he struggled with writing he got his sister to teach him how. The letters may have been short but they were full of love; telling her how much he missed her and how lonely it had become without her. She shared the same sentiment.
Not long after Mercedes left Julian got drafted, he was taught to shoot and use all kind of weapons. He was never deployed because he contracted scarlet fever. He was discharged and sent back to Camarge - thin and sick his sister had to help him get back to good health. He was determined to get to Mercedes in Juarez and wrote to her, asking to marry her. She was full of joy and said yes but her mother did not want the marriage to take place, going as far to forbade it. As much as Julian was hardworking she judged him on the fact that he had no education nor skills, she felt her Mercedes deserved far better. She wasn’t the only one to dislike this marriage, the Ramirez’s thought Mercedes’ family acted as though they were more important then everyone else.
Yet the couple were determined, both rarely defied their own families however the love they shared for one another was too strong and with the little possessions he had, Julian arrived in Juarez on the 3rd of August 1948 and they married on the 9th six days later in the Juarez City Hall in front of a few friends. They had no honeymoon due to lack of money. They were only 19.
They agreed that they would make sure their own children would have everything that they didn’t as children, a happy life with financial security and in Julian’s case, no beatings.
Mercedes continued her work as a housekeeper in El Paso, they could live in the States since she had been born there. She wanted to move there because the crime in Juarez was too much for her. Julian was content in Mexico but he knew how much his wife disliked the city so he applied for US citizenship. They had both heard of the ‘American Dream’ and she wanted her children to be born in the US so they could live out this dream. Finally Julian reluctantly accepted and they moved into a small one bedroom, one bathroom apartment in El Paso in Fourth and Canal.
Also during this time Guadalupe began to warm to Julian, she realised how hardworking he was and how much he loved her daughter. They started going for meals at Guadalupe - they didn’t live far from her in Juarez.
Within months Mercedes was pregnant with their first son, Ruben. At the time - unknown to the people of El Paso - the U.S government had been testing nuclear weapons in the nearby city of Los Alamos, New Mexico. It wasn’t known about the effects of Nuclear fallout and the wind more often then not carried the fallout over Juarez and El Paso, polluting the water, milk and Cattle. Between 1950 and 1954 the testing was most frequent, correlating with the high rate of birth defects in babies, causing physical issues and mental issues alike. It became known what was causing this but people were hesitant to speak out about it to the government - after all the Nuclear bomb had won them the war.
Ruben was born without much difficultly however he was born with large lumps up his back, neck and head and he was incredibly sick. At the time the doctor didn’t understand but he thought the bomb tests definitely had something to do with it. Ruben got very ill and it was believed he wouldn’t make it yet after a few weeks the lumps began to disappear and got better. The family owed this to a divine intervention. Ruben was allowed to go home and Julian would often take him for long walks down the roads of El Paso, telling him stories and smiling joyously constantly.
Just two months later, Mercedes was pregnant again. She wanted a girl but most of all she wanted a healthy baby and for the atomic bomb tests to stop, for all the evil to go away from her little family. This pregnancy was also easy, Joseph was born (named after Mercedes’ favourite brother). He was healthy, both Julian and Mercedes’ thanked God. Two sons in a row was a good omen according to Guadalupe and Julian considered himself a very lucky man.
At six months old Joseph started to cry much more frequently. As though he was in serious pain. His parents tried everything to calm the baby but nothing would work. He was taken to the El Paso clinic, neither could they find the problem so they sent him back home. The crying only became more extreme as each day passed. The second time he was taken to a clinic he was nearly 1 year old. After an examination the doctor announced that poor Joseph’s bones were not growing correctly and they never would. He didn’t quite understand why and sent them to a specialist who told them that Joseph had a disease called Collier which caused the bones to curve as they grew. This was also a direct result of the nuclear testing nearby - still nobody wanted to shame to war winning bomb though. Dr. Perry Rogers told the Ramirezes that he would cut away at the curved part of the bone and would construct a metal heal that would allow Joseph to somewhat walk right. But he warned them that he would require many more operations because the bones would continue to grow incorrectly. There was no proper cure. Any money they could spare was handed over to Dr. Rogers to pay for the operations, they never asked any other families for help so they simply worked longer and harder. Joseph had his first surgery at 17 months old and it helped briefly but he began crying in pain again not long after. The family often went to the Sacred Heart Church on Oregon street to pray for Joseph’s pain and disease to go away.
A while later Julian became a construction worker in El Paso even though he didn’t have the proper papers. He needed the money though, this job payed far better then the factory job he previously worked in.
In the year of 1952 immigration border guards payed Julian a visit at the construction site to ask for his papers. He told them he didn’t have them but that his wife was an American citizen so he could stay but they told him that he needed papers and was to be deported immediately. After some persuasion he was allowed to go and tell his wife what was going to happen however once at the apartment the guards said that whole family was going to be deported. Their landlord came to their defence, he agreed that they were American citizens and that they should stay. No protests worked, at 3pm the little family and all their belongings were dumped on a corner on the Mexican side of the Sante Fe bridge.
Julain told Mercedes to take herself and the children to her mother’s house a mile away, he would stay and fight off any thieves who attempted to take their belongings. On a good weekend in Juarez there was twenty murders. Mercedes began the short but treacherous walk to her mother’s, holding Ruben by the hand and a crying Joseph in her arms.
She reached Guadalupe’s without an incident and her two brothers - Joseph and Manuel - took a neighbours truck to move the family’s possessions to the house. It took two trips.
Once settled, Julian went out looking for work. He met a friend who was working as a policeman. His friend took him to the Commandante of the Juarez police. Julian said he didn’t know much about being a policeman but the Commandante didn’t mind and thought he looked right to be a policeman. Since he was experienced with guns due to his time in the military, he was put in charge of teaching the Juarez police to maintain and shoot firearms properly. But Mercedes wasn’t overly happily. Mexico was like South America, police officers were often killed if they got in the way.
Julian Ramirez in 1951 after becoming a police officer - From Philip Carlo’s personal collection of photos.
Mercedes had their third son Robert, he presented no problems.
Finally Julian’s American Citizenship papers were approved and with the good of his sons in mind he quit his job and the family moved back to El Paso in early 1954. They got a small apartment in the second ward at Seventh and Canal. Julian got a job at the Santa Fe railroad, laying track. It was hard work and he was often out of town for days but the wages were good. He knew he had made the right decision for his wife and children.
The Ramirez apartment - From Philip Carlo’s personal collection of photos.
Mercedes got a job at a famous boot-maker in Texas called Tony Lama. Her wages were also much better and she had managed to find a Mexican women who could care for her sons while she was out working, she wanted someone good to look after them since she was nervous to leave them for too long.
She would mix pigments and chemicals for the boots colours to paint the boots and treat them with fixatives so the colour would last. Similar to the Nuclear tests, these chemicals were often toxic and required ventilation when being used but the people working with them were unaware at the time. She spent seven hours a day, five days a week exposed to these toxic chemicals and quickly developed dizzy spells meaning she would have to sit down for periods of time to recover.
Six months after being employed she was pregnant again, Julian was overjoyed as this was the fourth pregnancy in fours year and he felt like the luckiest man alive.
Finally one of Mercedes’ dreams became true. She had a healthy little girl who she named Ruth, a little girl to help her out in a house full of boys. Julian was happy as well, he knew Ruth would always have three older brothers to keep her out of harms way.
Every weekend Julian would dress up and go and visit his police friends in Juarez, occasionally bringing along his sons and talk to them in Spanish. He wanted them to learn English and do well in American but he also did not want them to forget about their heritage. His sister moved to El Paso the same year, bring her son Miguel who was the same age as Ruben, the two became close friends the moment they met.
Mercedes’ sister had also moved to El Paso and got employed at Tony Lama, she developed the same dizzy spells and they both began to feel unwell on weekends. After a discussion they began to question whether maybe they were addicted to the chemicals they worked with and were experiencing some form of withdrawal yet they didn’t seek any medical attention.
When Ruben started school he was put into a class designed to help teach English. Before long he could say sentences in English and Julian encourage him to speak English with his friends and grandmother Guadalupe. Joseph started school not long after and was wearing the special shoes he had been given in Juarez and they needed to be adjusted often as he grew but he never complained. He always walked with his brother to school but had to break often as the shoes weighed quite a lot. His parents were worried about how the other kids would treat him but his brothers were always there to defend him.
Robert started school and he learned English as well. The first time Julian heard his sons speaking English to each other he was happy but he couldn’t help feeling a little down as he struggled to learn the language and couldn’t speak with them. He never was required to learn English because most of the men he worked with spoke Spanish anyway.
At school Joseph had started being taunted about his disadvantages, he took the insults to heart and became very shy and fearful. Ruben however, had inherited the fierce Ramirez temperament and would chase off the children who teased Joseph. Their father did not often lose his temper, he was a very easygoing and friendly man but when he did he would start beating any object near him and throwing things. Another trait of the Ramirez family was that they had very large feet and hands, a punch from one of the Ramirez men would cause a lot of damage.
Mercedes - much to her dismay - realised that all of her children had the explosively violent temper of the Ramirezes. Ruth herself would break and throw things if her anger got the better of her. ‘”I’d just black out when I got mad,” she’d say years later. “I couldn’t control the anger. There would just, like, be an explosion inside of me, and I’d go off.” Her older brothers gave her a wide berth when she “went of”.’ - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The NightStalker - Philip Carlo.
Mercedes’ fifth and final pregnancy was the most painful and difficult. She even had to go to a specialist to help with the discomfort who told her the chemicals she had been breathing in at her job was going to cause a miscarriage so she needed a range of injections to keep the baby. She finally quit her job during her fifth month of pregnancy. This final pregnancy surprised Julian as it had been four years since the birth of their daughter. Guadalupe recalled praying a lot for her daughter and the unborn baby during the pregnancy, she could see this child was sapping the life-force from her daughter.
At 2:07am on February 29th 1960, Ricardo Leyva Muñoz Ramírez was born. His father and all his siblings arrived at the hospital to see the new baby. Ruth was ecstatic to have a baby brother and from the first day he came home she was all over him.
He was her little precious, dark-eyed, dark-haired doll come to life. Ruben, Joseph and Robert didn’t pay one-tenth the attention to Richie that Ruth did. - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The NightStalker - Philip Carlo.
If you think I have any facts wrong be sure to message me and I’ll correct what I can. The next part I am covering will be his childhood.
#richard ramirez#night stalker#the night stalker#serial killer#serial killers#murder#murders#murderer#murderers#crime#crimes#true crime#true crimes#criminal#criminals#solved case#solved cases#pyschology#pyscho#evil#satan#horror#true horror#dark#the screen door intruder#valley intruder#ted bundy#the walk in killer#jack the ripper#john wayne gacy
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crayons ‘set’ (PG)
> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy
> pairing : kim namjoon x reader
> words : 3.8k
> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)
>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.
> prior
> next
The principle of balance.
It’s a curious concept. Like most of the things that turn people into different versions of themselves, just from an unconscious force brought to light by the sheer inner sense of competition that inhabits every single person. It’s quieter in some people. Feel non-existent sometimes. But it’s here, dormant, just waiting on the right trigger to awaken.
You didn't think you would see it in Jimmy. The little boy lacks completely self-confidence and affirmation. But a voice and a stance, easily remarkable, end up fitting him.
It turns out that you witness it quite quickly after the Progress has started. And it manifests in the most adorable and comical of ways.
It’s been a few weeks since you've met his dad. There wasn’t much to talk about with him yet. Every day, longer lingerings of the gaze, less tucking away in the far back of the rest of the group, more definite wordless participations during class -nodding and clapping along. The progress you've been wholly satisfied with but nothing so drastically different that you thought necessary to call his father in for.
Nothing absolutely astonishing. Therefore you didn’t call and what a surprise this one Thursday afternoon turns out to be when he appears at your class’s doorway.
He’s wearing very casual clothes, a simple light linen shirt and some distended jeans to pair, sneakers and his hair -you've only seen neatly tucked to the side- is floating about his forehead, freshly washed and devoid of any wax. It’s a pleasant surprise, especially with the evident appearance of calm and quiet tranquillity he’s carrying.
This man looks rather handsome when he’s on vacation, stressless and well-rested and seemingly content, you note.
“Mr Kim?”
He looks up from his son he is holding the hand of, eyes wide and bewildered as he stares a little. You chuckle, confused but amused. He’s the one paying you a surprise visit but he’s shocked when you do talk to him?
“Is it bad timing? I can come back another day...” From the look he’s giving you, or more accurately, barely sparing you, body already aiming for the corridor, you wonder if you should return the question. It'd be cruel though, to tease, therefore you choose to simply shake your head and insist on him walking in. And then it happens, the man can’t take a step inside, for some reason. He’s just paralysed, looking like a million contradicting thoughts are fighting inside his brain and he simply cannot make out the best option, if he would or not step in; and it’s Jimmy who takes the decision for him. Puffing his cheeks out in annoyance, he pushes against his father's leg, small hands pulling the bigger one towards him. It’s like watching a tiny mouse trying to drag along a giraffe. It has little to no physical effect until there’s an aggravated tiny whine of “appa”. He moves, at last, letting himself stood in front of me before Jimmy lets go of his hand.
He gives you a look you're not sure you interpret well. Dark eyes all serious, attention loud, he seems to be intrusting his father to you. A gentle smile, hiding your teeth biting back a hilarious grin, sends him away towards the very back of the room. Taking a seat next to the bookshelf, it takes Jimmy a few minutes only after you've diverted your attention from him to grab an image book and start going through it patiently.
He's so comfortable. Almost too comfortable. He looks strange, like that. Strange because different from usual but still, oddly, it fits him well. It's like a projection, a little vision of a future little boy, easygoing, at peace with himself and his environment, that won't take too long to be born again.
And it's now the dad who's acting weird. He's standing on his two never-ending legs, the tip of his fingers toying nervously with the button of his vest, his mouth keeps teasing, opening slightly, as if about to spill a word, only to shut itself right up, a lightly aggravated sigh following soon after. It happens quite a couple of times until you get tired of waiting. Tired of the eyes avoiding you, the tension heavy for no particular reason that you could decipher, you ring him awake with an abrupt overexaggerated clearing of your throat.
"Mr Kim?" He's confounded again, caught off guard somehow. "Did you mean to discuss something with me?" It's hard to make an adult talk, you realise. Sometimes children can be difficult. Put aside Jimmy's case, sometimes children are like that. Making them want to share, especially when they are at that age where they can't express themselves and their ideas as well as they wish they could, frustration, laziness at times can get the better of them and having a fairly constructed conversation with them is like pulling teeth out of a very adamant, unwilling person. But you manage. Adults, on the other hand, have never been too much of your cup of tea. There's a reason why you chose to spend the better part of your weeks with children instead of adults. You're not that terrible at getting along with them, you do it pretty well, honestly. But the reason is probably the fact that you're not difficult. You're convenient as a person, always willing to help, always trying to be positive, you do not get in people's way and most of the times, it's enough to make it through.
You don't deal with adults the way you deal with children. With great pleasure and passion, you insert yourself into your pupils' existence, try to leave a mark and help them have the better, feel the better, be the better. Adults, you don't get too involved. They sound complicated, complexed, too many compromises, too many facets. You know because you are one too.
And Mr Kim, looking all nervous and troubled seem the very embodiment of this bias you have. He looks some sort of troubles. Probably nothing that terrible. He appears too childish for it to be that grave. But he's serious about it, about the anxiety, the struggle, the uneasiness he's feeling, you can tell, just from the way he hasn't been able to look at you in the eyes since he appeared in your class. Still, whatever it is, will cost some of your time, and with that, might clog up some very much needed space you require in this busy head of yours.
It's happened before. A new neighbour trying to get closer to you, maybe because they've just moved in the city, didn't know anyone, and you looked friendly enough and they needed someone to listen to the exhaustive list of all the things that made them leave their hometown -even though, you don't necessarily care for any of it. Or a colleague, trying to get you involved in their office dramas, simply because people need the attention, the feeling of importance and support.
Quite frankly, you've never been interested in any of them. Adults sound like too much work, especially given the fact that, as filled with flaws as they are, they are a pain, and often impossible, to fix. And they say things they don't mean. And they want things that they don't need. Their words and their acts hardly ever match. They're for the most part unrecoverable and unfixable, and you don't want any of it.
But Mr Kim and his dimples -invisible to the eye at the moment, but that you realise marked your brain so strongly you can picture them exactly where they should be winking- are piquing your interest. You're ninety-nine per cent sure it is not about Jimmy but you'd like to know. Never mind that curiosity killed the cat.
“Yes, uh-“ Clearing of the throat, scratching of the neck and more clearing of the throat. “about last time...”
You're lost. For a second, your body freezes to give your brain its full capacity to wreck through the whole place and retrieve a memory that seems to have been lost somehow, somewhere. You have no idea what time he is referring to.
He seems so invested, so intensely experiencing his emotions you're left shocked and deeply embarrassed to not remember something that had that effect on him yet didn’t leave a single trace on you.
He insists then, having to face your transparent confusion. The more you stand in pure oblivion, the more awkward he gets. Stuttering more, an accent, very deep, adding rough edges to his voice, colouring his words with new shades that you've never heard before.
“Mr Kim-“
“Namjoon.”
“I’m sorry?”
“No, it’s me, I am, I’m-“ You will, later, feel terrible for it. It’s undeniable. But right now, facing this grown-ass man, usually so collected now decomposing in the most adorable red-cheeked boyish thing, you can only start laughing. It renders him speechless which in a way is almost an improvement and when you finally can restrain the giggles from bubbling straight from your belly, you start again,
“Maybe take a deep breath, take your time.” You bite your lip down to the blood, poorly concealing your grin when he actually does it. “What did you mean by ‘last time’?” You're mortified to ask, honestly, persuaded that you should know but at this point, it’s pretty mean but you don’t think you can embarrass yourself that much in front of him, not when he’s been such a mess himself.
“When we met. When I came to talk about my son.” Calmly, diligently he answers. Like a good boy answering his teacher’s question, a shadow of worry covering his usually sharp gaze.
“Oh, what about it?” Curiosity melts with confusion as you refrain yourself from pressing him further into elaborating faster, eager as you are to understand. You were sure he was not going to talk about him.
“I’d been a bit much and I wanted to apologise personally to you.”
Been a bit much?
“In what sense? I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s just- I poured myself and our luggage on you when you’re- I know you care about my son but I shouldn’t have, I don’t know, I shouldn’t have-“
You hate cutting people off. It’s a terrible habit you are constantly trying to teach your students to drop. But here he is, struggling to express an idea that irks you strongly. Is he able to put the words he needs? Does he even know them in his own mother tongue or do they even exist? Maybe what he's trying to express are pure emotions. Unease coming from a heart shameful for having shown itself vulnerable to a stranger. You'd know about this feeling. You've experienced it plenty of times, throughout all your life. Even if it wasn’t in the form of you stripping your heart off to someone, like he did, simply showing that you cared gave you the same sense of vulnerability, of terrifying exposure you've always had a hard time dealing with.
You hate the idea that he regrets it, especially with you. At that time, you could tell he had words to pour out. You were glad, you were even enchanted to be the one helping out no matter how small you just assumed your impact to have been. And now, he's trying to say that he regrets it?
“You said you were thankful to have someone to talk to.”
“I did say that.” He mumbles, pressing the pad of his fingers against his closed eyes.
“Then don’t regret it. I don’t want you to be embarrassed about this, seriously. I had parents do way more, actually embarrassing, things in my career. Don’t even worry about it.” He’s thinking it over. You can tell your words have little to no impact on his bruised ego. “I’m not sure how appropriate it is for me to say that but if you need it, whenever in the future, don’t hesitate. I’m not a psychologist, but I’m just- I’m willing to listen if it can help. I mean me or anyone else, really, you should in general just share. It’s important. You don’t want Jimmy to mimic such bad habits like so, holding in and all.” You may be talking too much. The man just looks so eager to hear those words and it spurs you on. “You really shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I can understand the feeling, where it comes from, but it’s pointless with me.”
“You’re really kind.” You give a smile, only. It’s not much but you're pretty sure it’s the genuineness tinting it that renders it enough. Again, he seems surprised. As bewildered as last time but undoubtedly convinced. “I’m glad he has you as his teacher.”
Your cheeks burn intensely. You don’t know how conscious he is of his words. If he realises that he perfected the art of flattery and of slipping people in his pocket. He really did. Especially when he’s leaning slightly towards you, gaze intense and on you now that the embarrassment has vanished for the most part and he can bear looking at you, seemingly hanging out for any other words you may have in stock.
There’s nothing left for you to say though. It takes you quite a few attempts to skim over your brain, trying to formulate a sentence, any word, but you come out completely empty. You can’t even stutter a thank you from how utterly flustered you're feeling.
Therefore you choose the easy way out. Waltzing on your heels to give him your back, your hands reaching to the barely messy top of your desk to pretend they’re busy. You believe yourself to have been sleek enough but apparently not so -maybe it’s the fact that you're just picking up stuff to put them exactly where they belong, at the exact same place.
“Was I inappropriate? I’m really sorry, Mrs ___. Sometimes I just talk too much and I don’t realise that maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Please stop apologising. It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re just- You saying nice things that you mean,” You stumble upon the last words as if maybe you're getting over your own head to just assume and claim so loud that he must mean the sweet things he said to you but that bashful yet adorable expression he's wearing, with the eyes a bit wide and the bottom lip munched, fill you with a regain of confidence, “can’t be an issue. It’s just unexpected and- I mean you’re fine you can say whatever you want. I mean I’m not asking for more compliments, I’m just saying-“
It’s terribly unnerving. You don’t know what impression you're giving off as a teacher. Lacking so much elocution, scrambling to form sentences and turning into a messy, overwhelmed emotional mess.
“I don’t mind giving you more compliments, Mrs ___.” Here comes that curious principle of balance again. You're half-dying of mortification and he seems to be having fun, smiling kindly, with a hint of something else -amusement, maybe even smudginess.
Is he flirting with me? There’s no way he’s flirting. I think I’m losing my mind.
“It’s Miss, actually.” You swear to yourself, silently, that you're not flirting back -assuming he is, in fact, doing just that- and you just mean to be called by an accurate name.
“Oh.” He almost gasps. Looking shocked and you don’t understand what’s going on anymore. Was he really not flirting? Why does he look so shaken as if you misinterpreted his intentions and now he’s misinterpreting yours and think you're getting over your head -because you're not, you were not flirting!
“I’m not flirting with you, I’m just clarifying!”
You hate this whole conversation. You hate yourself, your life and anything and everything that may or may not have led you to this tragic instant.
You're positive you screamed a little. You get confirmation of just that from the tiny mop of hair bouncing up in your peripheral vision, as Jimmy gives you two a slightly concerned, curious look.
The tension is blatant. It's a mixture of irritation, of anxiety, of embarrassment. You couldn't have messed up any worse than you did and you positively want to simply die, right about now.
The mere thought that you'll have to live with this humiliation not only for the whole day ahead, blatantly hanging out at the back of your head, sometimes probably too close to your consciousness for any sense of comfort to ever inhabit you again, but for your entire life makes you want to throw yourself out the window. You decide not to indulge in the pressing pulsion only because you're on the ground floor, therefore, it would be pointless if not even more humiliating.
Mr Kim, somehow, helps a little. By not wearing a mask of pure revolt, revulsion or aggravation. He stares soundly, expression not giving off much to work with. Just enough to understand he is not mad, simply lost in his own thoughts he doesn't seem too keen on sharing.
A spark of sensibility blooms suddenly in your brain. You're so thankful for it, you jump right on it, grab it with your two hands and start again, as if nothing happened, as if you haven't just humiliated yourself in front of this man (and his son), "Jimmy has made a lot of progress, I've noted."
Mr Kim blinks a few times, unnaturally so. "Yeah? I mean, yes, I've noticed too, actually." He keeps staring with the same obnoxiously loud thoughts running in his mind. His brain is on full activity mode. It's obvious. And he doesn't care too much about talking about his son right this second (even though he doesn't seem to care much about sharing what's going through that private head of his either).
How disappointing. You sincerely thought the one subject that matters the most to him would successfully tear the attention away from you but you're a fool. Apparently, even the cute little bean of a son he has can't divert the attention from the humiliation you've just submitted yourself to.
"Anyway, I won't hold any more of your time, you must have work to attend to."
"Actually I'm not working today. I have the day off." Your lip now too sensitive, you attack the inner part of your cheek with your teeth -thankfully you've turned your back to him again, feigning observing with great attention something through the windows- to stop yourself from screeching. It takes him so long, so fucking long for him to decide, finally, that maybe he should leave. The longest dozens of seconds of your life. Staring outside, picturing him behind you, probably watching you wondering to himself how you can be so lame and how he could have thought you a good fit to be his precious son's teacher. "Ah, I should leave anyway. Your class is about to start?"
"Ah, yes. Well, thanks for passing by. I hope you rest well." It's the least genuine you've been with this man, and anyone for the matter, in so long. Your heart and mind are in such a shamble you don't actually remember the reason for his coming and if, really, anything positive came out of this conversation.
It's ridiculous how you feel, all bothered and nervous, aggravated with him for making you feel so flustered. You give him the most convincing fake smile you own, not taking the time to check if he buys it as you don't dare lingering your attention on him for any longer than the blink of the eye takes.
When he leaves, only after having scattered a bunch of smooches on Jimmy's face, you find yourself breathing again. It's like you've been holding in for so long, you're getting dizzy at the taste of oxygen again, heart beating furiously in your chest, sweating all over.
Fuck, that was painful.
You're such an idiot sometimes. Why do you have to be such a fucking idiot? It's not like you're asking much in this life, honestly. You're not aiming at any groundbreaking, universe shaking novelties. You're staying in your line, trying to be good and do good in your own little world. Not asking much, not taking without beforehand being offered. Is it really that much to ask to not be absolutely humiliated in front of one of your kids' parent, who happens to be a stupidly handsome man? (Yes, he is. You can admit that -to yourself. It's probably the reason why your brain stopped working properly, by the way.) You're cursed. I'm cursed, I'm cursed, I'm cur-
"Mish?" The quietest little call comes from the quietest little boy. Standing a secure meter away from you, his peculiar big black eyes staring with a silent demand in them, Jimmy waits patiently for your attention to be given to him. You offer it to him with great enthusiasm. Because between self-pitying your dumb ass and celebrating the first-ever-self-willingly-uttered word to you by this boy, the choice is not even to be pondered over.
"Yes, Jimmy?" He's holding in one hand your crayons he slowly tends your way, careful not to spill them all from his tiny fist. In the other one, there's a paper he's drawn on. Your eyes instinctively are driven to it, curious to see what he decided to draw when he felt comfortable enough to do it. He catches the line of your attention, evidently, and it takes him a second but then, finally, he decides you're allowed to see it. It's a too accurate copy of the ugly cat you made for him the other day. The colours are different, the traits a bit shakier yet, completely unbiasedly, you have to admit that he somehow made it look better. "That's a very pretty cat, Jimmy."
He looks at it, ruminates your words, trying to make sense of them, verify their accuracy. Suddenly he seems to decide that you're right and giving you another candid look, he returns to his table where he proceeds to carefully slip the drawing in his bag.
You realise your eyes are filled up with prickling tears while you sniff. You're not sure how much is due to this, how much the terrible, terrible encounter with his dad worked your emotions so intensely you're so sensitive now. In any case, it turns out for the better. It's this cute little cat that ends up making you and your day ahead feel better. You're so thankful for it.
Again, you know you're too involved but how are you supposed to do any different with them? Maybe it wasn't a punishment earlier. Maybe it was the storm before the ray of sunshine. It's probably the case. You're less aggravated, suddenly. Less vexed and probably more lenient on talking to this man again given, not the ray of sunshine, but actually rainbow that he may have helped cause to colour your day.
A/N: thanks for reading 💜
#btswriterscollective#networkbangtan#thekimlinenet#bts fluff#bts angst#bts scenario#bts fanfic#namjoon fluff#namjoon angst#namjoon scenario#namjoon fanfic#my writing
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Home | Final Chapter
Pairing: 13!Doctor x Daughter!Reader
Summary: The final chapter!
Word Count: 3247
Warning: this is a whole lot of angst and drama because its the end with just a hint of extra cheesy fluff
A/N: so this is basically the plot of The Timeless Child minus the whole Cyberman stuff that happened before they were on Gallifrey... hopefully it will make sense when you read it! As always spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)
Part Three | Masterlist
- - - - -
“So those things, the Cybermasters, they can’t die?” Ryan is trying to get his head around regeneration as the four of you hide out in an empty room and you try to explain what’s happened.
“Technically yes, they can die. But they come back to life almost immediately. The Master made them from the bodies of dead Time Lords, so they can regenerate like The Doctor and I can”
“This is mad!” Graham says, shaking his head in disbelief.
“And now the Master’s got The Doctor trapped?” Yaz asks and you nod “so how do we save her?”
“I don't know” you answer honestly “she’s normally the one who knows what to do in these situations, she comes up the plans, she saves us”
“And you're her brilliant daughter. If anyone can come up with a Doctor saving plan it’s you” Graham says, squeezing your hand.
You give him a small unsure smile and think for a moment.
“Okay” you take a deep breath “we need to get into that room. The Master has the Doctor trapped in some sort of paralysing cage thing, if we can somehow get the control from him and free her then she’ll know what to do next. But how do we get into a room full of Cyber…” you trail off as an idea comes to you “The Cybermasters! We have to dress up as Cybermasters!”
“How?” Ryan asks
“We need to go back to the upgrading room”
“But there’s loads of Cybermasters around there” Yaz says
“Then we use the guns if we have to. Once they die we have about 30 seconds before they come back. We grab as much armour as we can and we disguise ourselves, but we have to be quick. 30 seconds, that’s all we’ve got”
“Okay” Yaz says, nodding as she psyches herself up.
“Lets do it” Ryan agrees
You're about to leave the room and start your journey back to the upgrade room when suddenly you can hear the Doctor in your head.
“Y/N?”
“What- how are you…?”
The fam stop and look at you confused as you're talking to yourself.
“Telepathic link, Time Lord Trick. Please tell me you're back at the TARDIS?” She says, she sounds more panicked than you’ve ever heard her sound.
“No, I’m hiding. I’m with Graham, Ryan and Yaz”
“What?! I told them to stay- you all need to get out of here now! The Master knows you escaped, he’s looking for you. Get back to the TARDIS, she’ll take you somewhere safe”
“NO! I’m not leaving you- Listen we’ve got a plan, we’re going to help you”
“Absolutely not! You're not doing that”
“I’m not asking for your permission. I’m not a child!” You snap.
“But you are MY child! I lost you once already Y/N, I can’t do it again” her voice cracks as she speaks and you feel your heart sink. She really does care about you, even if she is too awkward to admit it. You take slow, silent breaths as you consider what to do next.
“Y/N?” She questions.
“I’ll see you soon” you say before pushing her out of your mind, closing the link. You look up at the fam who are staring at you. “Telepathic link. The Master’s looking for me”
“What do we do?” Yaz asks you.
“We carry on with the plan. He’s left The Doctor alone, if we’re quick we can get to her before he does”
— — — —
After successfully getting your hands on some Cyber-suit armour and disguising yourselves you begin leading the fam back to where The Doctor is. You turn a corner and your heart almost stops when you see The Master walking towards you. You do your best to stay calm as you continue to march down the corridor, hoping that he’ll ignore you. Which he does until you get close.
“You lot!” He shouts, his voice think with anger “go and watch The Doctor. Don't let her out of your sight and if you see the girl, kill her! I’m bored of this.”
With that he storms off, presumably still looking for you. You take a moment to gather yourself before returning to marching.
“You alright?” Yaz whispers and you hum in response.
Finally you reach the entrance to the room where this mess all began. You warily push the door open expecting to see the room full of Cybermasters, but instead the room was empty. Apart from one lifeless body laying on the floor.
“No…” you whisper to yourself as you race down the stairs as fast as you can in the restrictive metal body, removing your helmet and throwing it to the side “Doctor?!”
You fall on your knees at her side and turn her face, pushing hair away from her eyes. The fam stand behind you, removing their helmets as they watch through worried eyes. “Please, please wake up! Please… I can’t lose you… Mum…”
When she doesn’t respond you lean forward and hug her, resting your head on her chest. A quiet sob escapes Yaz’s lips and Ryan puts his arm around her. Graham kneels down beside you, gently placing a hand on your back.
The four of you remain silent for a moment until you hear:
“My fam” the Doctor’s quiet voice makes you sit up and gasp with relief “my Y/N… what are you wearing? Oh” you help her sit up and she looks around the room still slightly dazed “all those memories…the matrix… the memories blew the matrix! Oh she’s clever. I’m clever!” A massive grin appears on her face and she looks at you “We’re all clever. All of us. However many that is”
“What are you talking about? What matrix?” You ask, a confused smile appearing on her lips as you look at her
“You called me mum” she ignores your questions
“Did I? Sorry-”
“No, I liked it” she smiles at you for a moment before standing up and helping you get up “right then, off we go! No, theres something I’m missing.” She thinks “The Master is creating a new race of Cybermen using Time Lord bodies”
“We know, we saw them” Yaz says
“We shot some of them but they just came back” Ryan adds and The Doctor gives him a look.
“An endlessly regenerating army. I have to stop him. Fast. You shouldn’t be here. No humans on Gallifrey”
“This is Gallifrey? Your home Gallifrey?” Graham sounds shocked
“I need to get you off this planet” The Doctor starts running up the stairs and you all follow. She runs down the corridor and uses her sonic to open up a door “Everyone, through here!”
You all rush inside and find yourselves in a room that feels familiar.
“It’s a TARDIS!” Ryan says, as the Doctor presses buttons on the central control. “It is a TARDIS right?”
“Looks like it” Graham agrees
“This can take us all home!” Yaz says happily.
“Not all” you say, watching The Doctor somehow knowing exactly what she’s planning. The fam look at you confused but you continue to look at her and she stares back. “You're staying aren’t you”
“I have to. What he’s created is the most dangerous threat this universe has ever seen. Immortal Cybermen. I can’t let a single one leave this planet, or its game over for everyone.”
“Then let us help you” Yaz pleads
“No. I started this, I have to end it. Alone. The TARDIS will take you back to the 21st century”
“You’re not serious!” Graham exclaims
“Deadly”
“What about you? How will you get back?” Ryan asks
“In my TARDIS” she says, but you don't believe her.
“Why are you lying to us?” You say and she looks at you “You don't think you're going to get out of this alive thats why you're sending us away!”
“Doctor?” Yaz presses. The Doctor continues looking at you before letting out a sigh.
“There’s a weapon here on Gallifrey that when activated will wipe out all life forms on the planet”
“You sure you want to do that?” Ryan asks
“I’m sure I don't want to do that, but there’s no alternative.”
“But you’ll die too”
“That’s the way it has to be. And I would do that in a heartbeat for this universe. For you…” she looks individually at each of the humans stood in front of her before her eyes finally land on you “…my fam”
She turns and walks towards the door, but Yaz runs after her.
“We’re not letting you go! You're not doing this!” She cries as she grabs her arm but the Doctor shakes her off.
“Get off me Yaz!” She pauses and takes a breath, tears in her eyes “please… live great lives”
She turns again and goes to leave but stops just before the door.
“Y/N” she says without turning around and you go to stand beside her “it’s up to you now. Look after them”
You nod and look down as the tears in your eyes threaten to fall.
“This isn’t fair, I’ve only just found you” your voice comes out as a whisper.
“I know. I’m sorry” she pulls you into a hug and whispers in your ear “I’m so proud of who you’ve become”
She lets you go and walks away. The room is silent as you watch her leave, the door closing behind her.
You all stand completely still for a moment until the silence is broken by the sound of the TARDIS engines beginning to fire up. In that moment you make a split second decision and before you realise what you're doing you race out through the door.
“Y/N!” Graham yells.
You turn back to look at the fam.
“I’m sorry” you say before slamming the door and holding it shut until it, and the sound of the fam on the other side, fades away.
You lean your head against the wall where the door once was and stay there for a few moments as the reality of what you’ve just done sinks in. The Doctor is going to be so mad at you.
“You really shouldn’t have done that”
You spin around to see The Master glaring at you.
“I am going to enjoy killing you”
— — — —
The Master drags you outside to where his fleet of Cybermasters are stood waiting next to a huge ship. You try and shake yourself free from his arms but his grip tightens.
“Oh no, I am not letting you go this time” he growls before pulling out a device from his pocket and holding it up to his lips. He presses a button and as he speaks you hear his voice echo through the whole planet.
“Doooooctooooooorrrrr…” he sings “oh Doctorrrrrr. Come out come out wherever you are. I have something that belongs to you. Or should I say someone”
He holds the device to your mouth “Don't be shy, say hello to dear old mummy”
“Don't listen to him, stay where you are!” You shout through the mic and he pulls it away from you, letting out a frustrated huff.
“Oh she is like you isn’t she Doctor, annoyingly heroic.” He laughs “well if you want to see your little offspring again, I suggest you get here soon. I’m getting rather fed up of her”
He turns off the device and puts it back in his pocket.
“Why do you doing this? What happened to you to make you so full of hate?”
“I found out the truth. About who she is and subsequently who I am and I cannot BEAR it!” The eye contact he’s holding with you is almost unbearable, you can see the rage, hate and also hurt in him. You're relieved when he finally looks away and gestures to the Cybermasters around you. “They lied about all of it. All our lives, they pretended we were special, but we’re not. We’re just, experiments created by them from her! But oh how the tables have turned. Now they are MY experiments, created by ME! And together, we’re going to take over the universe”
“Not if I stop you” The Doctor says as she appears from inside the spaceship and walks down the ramp towards you. She looks at you and you can tell she’s angry that you are here instead of on the TARDIS. You give her your best ‘im sorry’ face.
“What makes you think you can stop me Doctor? You are nothing compared to me and my army!”
“Maybe not. Unless I had a weapon. A weapon I hoped I’d never have to use. A weapon that can wipe out all life on this planet. A weapon I just installed in your ship”
“If you detonate it you will die too. You and her” he shakes you and you wince slightly at the roughness.
“That’s why I am giving you one last chance. One final opportunity to do the right thing. Stop all of this now and deactivate your soldiers” she pleads with him and for a moment you think he’s actually considering it. But then he laughs and gets out a gun, holding it to your head.
“You don’t get to give me the ultimatum here Doctor. I am the one with the power, not you! I am the one who’s giving you a choice. Give me the detonator control, and I will let her live. Disobey me and I’ll shoot her now. And this is no ordinary gun. This gun makes death as slow and excruciatingly painful as possible. I made it myself, another one of my fun inventions.”
The Doctor looks at you and for the first time you can see real fear in her eyes. You shake your head slightly, trying to signal to her not to take the deal, but The Master grabs your face harshly, his fingers digging into your cheeks.
“She’s scared Doctor, I can feel her shaking and hear her little hearts beating so fast. Do you really want to watch her die? Give me the control”
“Don’t-” you start to say but he squeezes your face even harder, making you hiss in pain. Tears fill your eyes.
The Doctor takes the control out and holds it in view. She takes slow, careful steps towards you both until she’s close enough.
“Put the gun away first” she says and he just laughs “put it away or I’ll activate the weapon now”
“Don't you trust me Doctor?”
“Not really no” she replies bluntly
“Fine” he huffs and slowly puts the gun away
“Let her go”
“I’m not stupid Doctor but I am getting bored of this. Give me the control before I kill both of you”
She holds the control out and slowly pushes it closer to him until his hand is on it. Then suddenly she grabs you and pulls you from his grasp as the device in his hand starts bleeping. He looks at it then up at her in disbelief.
“You…” he says as he realises that she just set off the detonator. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the gun once again at the same time as The Doctor reaches into hers and pulls out a small bronze key. It glows and you hear the sound of the TARDIS. Then in a blur of action the Master points his gun at the Doctor and fires but you jump in front of the her, pushing her out the way. She grabs you as she falls, pulling you down with her. You see the green ray from the gun heading towards you and squeeze your eyes shut as you brace yourself for the impact-
-but it never comes.
You open your eyes again to find you and the Doctor are lying in a heap on the floor inside the TARDIS. She sits up so your head is resting on her legs, and you look up at her confused.
“When will you learn to not jump in front of me when someone fires a gun?” She says before smiling at you “are you okay?”
You sit up and check yourself before nodding at her, still in shock that you're not currently dead.
“Good, because you are in so much trouble!” She stands up and goes to the control panel “Why- WHY can you not just do what I say?! I told you to let me handle that alone. Not to follow me. Not to get yourself caught.” She rants at you and you carefully stand up, hugging your arms across yourself “You could have died Y/N! For real this time! Do you understand how close you came to not being here anymore-”
Suddenly all the emotions hit you at once and you break down. Tears flood your face as you bring your hand up to your mouth to try stop the sobs that are escaping. Your whole body is shaking with post shock adrenaline and The Doctor immediately stops messing with buttons on the control and hugs you tightly into her chest. She doesn’t say anything, she just lets you get it all out.
After a few minutes you finally calm down enough to talk.
“I’m so sorry” you say quietly “I just couldn’t bear the thought of you facing him and all those Cybermasters alone. I had to do something… but all I did was make things worse. I let you down”
The Doctor sighs and pulls away to look at you.
“You didn’t make things worse Y/N. Just, slightly more complicated” she lets out a small laugh as she wipes leftover tears off your cheek “and you didn’t let me down either. What you did was incredibly stupid, but also brave. I meant what I said back on the other TARDIS, I am so proud of you.”
“Don’t make me cry again” you laugh as you turn your attention to the monitor and the view of Gallifrey “I still don't understand what happened… one minute The Master was shooting at us, the next we were here”
“I used the key to summon the TARDIS and it materialised around us just in time.” The Doctor explains
“So that was your plan all along? Why didn’t you just tell us?”
“Because I wasn’t 100% sure it would work. It takes a lot of power to summon the TARDIS like that, I can’t do it very often. Plus she’s not always reliable”
The TARDIS makes a strange groaning noise and you let out a small laugh. You swear it responds to her.
“But what about the Master?” You ask
“The weapon detonated so every living thing on Gallifrey is dead. I’ve done a scan of the planet, no life signs.” She looks at the screen, a brief wave of sadness washes over her.
“I’m sorry…” you say, placing your hand on hers.
“They were already dead” she says as she turns to look at you before taking a deep breath and smiling “Right! Time to pick up the fam”
“Where did the other TARDIS take them?” You ask and she looks at you blankly.
“I don't actually know…”
“You don't know where they are!” You burst out laughing, shaking your head.
“They’re somewhere in the 21st century! We’ll find them…”
She takes your hand and places it on the lever.
“…together”
You both pull down and the TARDIS engines fire up once again, taking you on another adventure.
The Doctor and her daughter.
#doctor who#doctor who fic#doctor who imagine#13th Doctor#13th doctor x reader#13!doctor x reader#Thirteenth Doctor#thirteenth doctor x reader#thirteen x reader#the doctor x reader#the doctors daughter#the master#master x reader#Dhawan!master x reader#graham obrien x reader#graham obrien#yaz khan#ryan sinclair#the timeless children
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So just as a heads up, this is a continuation of this post about which of Smirke's 14 Fears from the Magnus Archives team RWBY+Pyrrha would be aligned with and @im-the-king-of-the-ocean asking my thoughts on Winter, Ozpin and Oscar (sorry it took so long to get back to this! I've had it sitting in my drafts for a while)
Winter: The Slaughter
Winter as an Avatar of the Slaughter is something I hadn't thought of but it actually fits insanely well. The Slaughter does often bring up the question of whether anger and violence is just senseless and mindless, or following orders followed by rationalisation; or if we're entirely conscious of the choices we're making, and which is worse, which is something that Winter's arc has been dealing with A LOT. In how she follows Ironwood's orders and has to rationalise his actions to justify her own and her "choices", like how she explains to Weiss how she accepts her role as the Winter Maiden being her destiny, though it was something Ironwood groomed her into and how she tries to explain to Penny why they have to internalise however they might feel about abandoning Mantle and trust Ironwood.
There's the element of anger which you bring up, and Winter's relationship with anger is interesting to me to think about, because she seems very much afraid in indulging that emotion, or any emotion, and because of the military industrial complex and her abusive controlling upbringing, leads to a lot of emotional suppression and refusal to think on those feelings or deal with them in any healthy way. Which of course leads to everything boiling over, and there's this. Rage, an passionate fury that's boiling inside her. But I wouldn't say it's something she thinks she needs or enjoys right now, quite the opposite. (the idea of being afraid of being hurt, of needing to have control of her situation and to throw back her hurt of the world fits more with Cinder than Winter in my mind, and I think Melanie's relationship with anger and needing it reminds me a lot more of Yang. It justified her need for it and fed into it, and Melanie liked that, she wanted it, but for Winter her anger is something she's ashamed of, something to be locked away)
But I actually do think with where her arc is headed that thinks she will come to indulge in that feeling more. The one time we see her have an angry outburst expressing her true feelings is at Jaques at his dinner party, and she scolds and shames herself for allowing herself to get angry, that it was childish and immature. To which Penny disagrees, saying she thought she was just speaking from the heart. But Winter believes that to precisely be the problem. She cannot allow herself to think, or feel just for herself, because that terrifies her. So she only allows herself to follow orders. Again, similar to a lot of the Slaughter statement givers who were soldiers in wars of some kind and become numb to the atrocities they are made to commit, the sensless violence of it all, but her choice to accept her lack of agency and self worth still makes her complicit and is still a conscious decision on her part. This sort of meandered and I'm not sure if it made any sense but yes, I hadn't thought of it but the Slaughter actually fits Winter really well for a lot of reasons. And I think we will see her Go Feral in the near future, the thing she's most afraid of, showing how she really feels, and oh boi all that confusion, emotional repression, the lingering bitterness and jealousy towards Penny being the Winter Maiden, and projected feelings of thinking of leaving or betraying Ironwood she's been having and her conflicted feelings pushed onto Weiss, who betrayed and left first, just a whole over boiling pot that's a mess of emotions manifesting as Big Feral Winter Feelings.
Ozpin:
The Eye, Ceaseless Watcher, Beholding/The Vast, the Falling Titan, Awful Deep
Ohohohoho Ozpin. I can't tell you how many times I've listened to TMA 151 imagining Ozpin as Simon Fairchild or vice versa. Simon's VA was told that his character had to give off the impression that he might offer you a plate of cookies or fling you off a cliff and when I heard that my mind immediately jumped to Ozpin back in v1. And Ozpin's VA said that if he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders, he'd be a lot more chaotic and fun. And that's the thing with Ozpin though, is that he wants to be Simon Fairchild, so so badly. I think he wants people to see him as that kind of person too. But in reality, he's stuck being Jonathan Sims. (The Ceaseless Watcher's/God of Light's Special Little Boy assdkjhkk) Oz is 100% an Eye Avatar. Fair warning, like with Ruby and the End, I have a lot of Big Feelings with this one.
I see where you're coming from, but the thing with being an Avatar of the Vast is being so overwhelmed by the expanse and eternity of everything that you just accept your own insignificance as well as everyone else's, hence why they rarely form attachments or work with others. It's a very nihilistic perspective that it's Avatars tend to be very hedonistic as a result, we're all insignificant, nothing matters, let's just do whatever we want and try to have a good time, who cares what happens. And I do think Oz is Vast aligned, since he encourages the people around him, and tries himself, to enjoy the little things and have fun when he can, since he knows Salem is unstoppable and everything could go to shit at any given moment. And yknow. Him enjoying flinging students off of cliffs during initiation a bit too much.
But Ozpin cares so much about humanity. He desperately wants to believe, and tries to, in humanity, and tries for them. He's been fighting so hard for so long, and believes humanity is worth fighting for (even if he has trouble actually having faith and believing in them). Everything matters to him. He agonises over every choice he makes and impact that has, takes on so much responsibility on himself, is so guilt ridden that he admits to making "more mistakes than any man, woman or child on this planet" that he practically paralyses himself with indecision and guilt. He’s also someone who has been shown to be paranoid, (his reluctance to fully trust the people around him out of constant wariness that he may be betrayed) and afraid of being perceived for who he truly is and having his secrets exposed, which are all very Eye related fears. Ozpin’s very much in this position in which he is the one who knows everything, who passively watches and waits and knows, from up high in his tower. “Oh please, your god is nothing! The Eye, Beholding, Ceaseless Watcher, whatever you call it, that’s all it does, it watches and knows, sitting bulbous and comfortable in the ignorance of infinite knowledge.” (TMA 89) In the Lost Fable, he believed he needed to be the one to know everything (think to how he only trusted himself to hold onto the relic of knowledge, believing it to be “his burden to bear” and was desperate to take it back from Ruby) and as shown in his past lives, sought after Jinn’s knowledge in the belief that knowledge would help him in his cause, only for the ultimatum of the answer in “Salem can’t be killed” to break him and make him lose all hope of doing anything more than maintaining a perpetual stalemate. In the words of his speech in vol1, in which is a very good example of Ozpin desperately needing to practice what he preaches;
“I'll...keep this brief. You have travelled here today in search of knowledge--to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose – direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step” (RWBY 1x03)
There’s also like. A lot of Eye statements, particularly those relating to Jonathan, that relate heavily to Ozpin and his character, including this one:
“And at last, the Archivist looks up. At last, he looks into the eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all, and everything, and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror, but he cannot.
He. Is. Whole.
And still he does not wake. Wandering his slim collection of gifted nightmares, passing the grey and lifeless remains of severed dreams he can no longer watch, he waits- but not for long- before they can all begin again”
Like if that doesn’t describe Oz’s endless reincarnation and merging, becoming “whole”, and living all these lives is discovering, observing and “experiencing all and forever” then I don’t know what does. And then there’s the last statement we had before the s5 break, also an Eye one, revolving around the “Minister” which also gives off major Oz vibes:
God, the children. They won’t stop looking, won’t stop following him with their piteous, desperate gaze that speaks so loudly his knees feel like they will buckle. ‘Help us.’He will. Of course he will. He wants to. He hasn’t lied to them, he really hasn’t. He used to be one of them, he remembers what it can be like. He is there to speak for them. And if necessary, he will join them again. The minister grips his black leather briefcase closely to his chest, bile rising in his throat at the sudden jolt of fear that races through his veins. Where did that come from? Is he afraid of it, returning, of that sharp stab of hunger, the shivering of a cold you can’t escape? Or is he afraid that should it come to that, they will see him as a deceiver?”
“On his side of the arena the shouts should be sharper, more angry, but their tone and pitch are such as to merge seamlessly with the others. There are no golden stakes on this side pinning down his would-be comrades. But the minister must be careful not to look too closely, or else he might see how many of his allies are fused to their own chairs, on which they have sat comfortable for so long"
"His eyes drift away, through the walls to the crowd outside. Their baying cries for justice cannot be heard in here. If any whisper should make it through, it is utterly destroyed in the deafening shouting that surrounds him. But he cannot forget their eyes, watching him, piercing him with their wounded humanity.”
Another thing is that one of Ozpin’s allusions aside from the Wizard of Oz is Odin, and Raven and Qrow are meant to be his Huginn and Muninn, two Ravens that act as his “eyes” spying and gathering information for him. If you look at Raven and Qrow’s emblem, they have a left and right bird’s eye respectively, with Oz’s gear emblem inside the eye. In v4, Salem, upon hearing that Tyrian poisoned Qrow, says “the last eye is blinded” as in,the belief that with Raven having left Oz and Qrow now dying, Oz would have no more eyes to “see” with. You also have Jonah Magnus, whose corpse is missing his eyes, but is able to watch through the eyes of the Archive employees. That and the whole body hopping host thing is a little similar in concept (and Peter Lukas mentions near the end of s4 that if Elias died, Jonah would have chosen Jon as his new host which is just. Terrifying). There's a lot of other little things too, like Oz in the first three volumes is usually shown watching events like the iniitiation, the fight at the docks, and the vytal festival through his cameras in his office, a passive observer rather than someone who is actively involved. And Yang at the end of v6, when Oscar tells them about Oz saving him, says "so he's just been watching is that whole time?" The underlying tone suggesting that he could've come back at any tike but chose to watch them instead, through Oscar, and everyone looking at him like that's pretty weird or creepy (except Ruby tho, because she's Ruby)
I feel like I could go on, but this is probably waaaaay too long, so, in summary, Oz serves the Eye, is basically a perfect candidate for the Archivist, and is also Vast aligned, and in different circumstances would have totally been a great Vast Avatar.
Oscar: The Spider, the Web, Mother of Puppets
Oscar. Was. HARD.
This lil shit is part of the reason it took so long to make this post. Because see, with other characters the most obvious indicators would be their semblances (which are often manifestations of coping mechanisms for their personal fears or trauma) or songs (which delve deeper into their characters), or have very specific fears that I can focus in on as to how that factors into their arc. But Oscar? He doesn't have a semblance. His whole THING is that he's scared. All the time. His song is called Fear for Pete's sake. Now, he is Oz's reincarnation, and Oscar does also share a fair few things in common with the Archivist and his character arc, (Elias's plan and the whole plot of the first four seasons was that he was trying to align Jon by having him touched by ALL the fears, aka, to fill Jon with fear of everything, so that he became a walking living record of fear) he persistently calls out people's BS and takes issue with people withholding information, also similar to Yang (who I firmly believe is Eye aligned). So like. Eye, right? But that just... doesn't properly fit Oscar. He's not Ozpin. The Stranger, then, becoming a stranger to yourself, perhaps? That is something Oscar's afraid of, right?
"Everything changes when you see a stranger, feel proud or betrayed" (Fear)
But Oscar is growing more confident in his own identity and figuring out who he is. He’s not becoming Oz, he's becoming his own person. And even if he was becoming Oz, Oz is hardly a Stranger to Oscar. The merge, from how it's described in the show, seems more similar to how the Distortion functioned, except Oscar and Oz don't fit into most of the Distortion's themes.
I was sort of uncertain, and I wanted to wait and see till I was more certain of where Oscar's arc was headed this volume, since he's being pushed to his limits and wanted to see how he acted and what choices he made. At the start, because of how he was regretting all the choices he'd made previously, and was telling Oz how badly he didn't want the merge to happen, I was speculating about the possibility of him being manipulated by Salem and Grimm!Oscar happening, which might fall him into the Corruption, but no.
Oscar is the Web.
It fits with his fear of being controlled, of his will not being his own, and like Jonathan, who was marked and scared for life by his encounter with the Web as a child, it is his greatest fear. Only, where Jon was so afraid of the Web he sought the Eye as his refuge, believing it would keep him safe, Oscar realises that can be used to his advantage. (Which actually makes him more like Anabella Cane, which is. Hilarious) He's trying to do what Salem does, focus in on people's weaknesses and fears and dig at them, manipulate and push them, divide them, only like, steering them into the opposite direction than Salem. He's trying to use the fact that people see him as Oz to his advantage and trying to manipulate their impression of him. He's just got this very sneaky, cunning and pragmatic streak in him that people overlook because he's also incredibly kind and just. Good. But those qualities very much scream "Web" to me the more I've dwelled on it.
#rwby#winter schnee#ozpin#oscar pine#tma#smirke's 14#the entities#the magnus archives#tma spoilers#the web#the slaughter#the vast#the Eye
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Issy and Evangeline had never known such luxury, as to be able to sleep on a wooden bench. Compared to the snowy foxholes they had been forced to huddle inside for all those weeks in Bastogne, a church pew was heaven. And the girls’ choir singing Plaisir D’amour were the angels.
“My mama used to play this song on the piano.” Evangeline - also aptly nicknamed ‘Angel’ by her comrades - recalled with a wistful smile. Geneveive Dubois had played many songs on their piano back home in Annecy, but Plaisir D’amour was always her favourite.
“Is there anything your mother can’t do? Last week you told me she painted a portrait for Coco Chanel!” Issy laughed, then shrank back into her seat as the nun observing the choir girls shot her a disapproving look.
“She did! Mama is a very good artist!” Angel defended with a small smile, the first one that had fully graced her lips in weeks.
“And apparently a musician, too.” Issy murmured quietly, careful not to catch the strict nun’s attention again. She always seemed to find a way of getting into trouble without intending to.
Angel glanced down at her friend with a fond smile, chuckling softly at the way she shied away from the nun’s gaze. For as long as she had known her, Issy always had a gift for getting on the wrong side of people she shouldn’t. Angel could practically hear Sobel screaming, “Private Castro, if you turn up late for PT one more time this week, your weekend pass will be revoked for the rest of your life!”
Issy never did get to join them for weekend drinks.
Angel suddenly found herself missing the good old days at Camp Toccoa. Looking back on it, the daily PT sessions where Sobel would scream at them for not making it over the wall, and their long and exhausting runs up Currahee felt like a lifetime ago. Angel would have given anything to go back, with the Black Swan and all. Even Sobel’s insults were better than Bastogne.
But nothing could be worse than Bastogne.
Angel just knew Lieutenant Dike was going to be their downfall. She knew it from the moment Issy and George nicknamed him, ‘Foxhole Norman’ in Holland. That man was not a soldier. He never should have been allowed to command Easy Company. And he had cost them so much.
It made her angry.
Lip had been their guardian angel in the dark days of Bastogne. He was the leader Easy Company needed more than anything, as strong as decisive as Winters, and one of the best people she knew. Angel often found herself praying, just praying to God that Lip would take over, give Easy a little hope. He would have got the whole company back on their feet, given them something to fight for again.
But instead they had Foxhole Norman.
When Dike was put in charge of the attack on Foy, Angel wanted to scream. They had already lost too many soldiers, good soldiers. Skinny had been evacuated, Smokey paralysed, Toye and Guarnere lost their legs in one of the last barrages in the Bois Jacques woods, Skip, Penkala... and two of the bravest women she ever knew. They were going to lose even more with Dike in charge.
Then came Easy Company’s saviour.
Ronald Speirs was - in all honesty - the last person Angel expected to come to their rescue. She had only met him a few times, but the rumours... the rumours were hard to ignore. Even for someone like her, and Angel had never been one to gossip.
Ronald Speirs saved them all.
He came charging through Foye like a man on a mission, not even glancing at the Germans on his either side. The attack was failing, thanks to Dike’s idiocy, and too many good men were losing their lives. Speirs turned it all around single handedly.
He was a hero.
Angel was glad he was their new CO. The whole company was glad. She had spoken to Lipton only two hours before, and even he had expressed his deep relief that Dike was gone, and they finally had a good leader in charge. Maybe things would start looking up for Easy.
“You wanna ask me don’t ya?”
Angel blinked rapidly, the image of that frost-bitten battlefield fading from before her eyes. She glanced to her side, and realised that Issy had fallen asleep; her head lolled to the side and there was a contented smile on her lips. She still looked like a girl, even after everything they had been through.
“Ask you what, sir?”
Angel turned away from Issy’s sleeping figure, her eyes instead focussing on the two men in her line of sight; Speirs and Lipton. The former was collecting his equipment, presumably to make his way back to Battalion, while the latter watched him with a curious gaze. Angel sat up a little straighter in her seat.
“You wanna know if they’re true or not, the stories about me.”
Lipton seemed amused, and maybe a little apprehensive. Speirs never really spoke to anyone, let alone spoke to them about his darkest secrets. And the rumours... were the darkest it could get.
“Did you ever notice with stories like that, everyone says they heard it from someone who was there, but when you ask that person, they say they heard it from someone who was there.”
Speirs spoke about the rumours like they didn’t bother him, with such nonchalance, and perhaps even a hint of smugness. Angel watched a slight smirk stretch across his face, and suddenly, she wasn’t so convinced by the rumours anymore.
“I bet if you went back 2,000 years, ya’d here a couple of centurions standin’ around, yakkin’ about how Tertius lopped off the heads of some Carthaginian prisoners.”
“Well, maybe they kept talkin’ about it ‘cause they never heard Tertius deny it.”
Angel got the feeling they weren’t really talking about Tertius.
“Hm, maybe that’s because Tertius knew there was some value to the men thinkin’ he was the meanest, toughest sonofabitch in the whole Roman Legion.”
Oh.
Now she understood.
Angel supposed a reputation like that was useful, especially in a war such as this. Fear was a natural thing to feel in the presence of someone like him. The rumours about Speirs were known by all of Easy Company, and possibly even the whole 506th. Everyone knew he was a cold-blooded, merciless, perhaps slightly insane killer. Or at least, they thought they did.
“Sir, these men aren’t really concerned about the stories. They’re just glad to have you as their CO. They’re happy to have a good leader again.”
Lipton’s eyes weren’t so guarded anymore, but curiosity still lingered within them. Perhaps he was just realising - a little like Angel - that there was a lot more to Ronald Speirs than meets the eye.
“Well from what I heard, they’ve always had one. I’ve been told there’s always been one man they could count on. Led ‘em in the Bois Jacques, held ‘em together when they had the crap shelled outta them in the woods. Every day he kept his spirits up, kept the men focussed, gave ‘em direction. All the things a good combat leader does.”
Angel couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face, because no truer words had ever been spoken. And the best thing about it, Lip was completely oblivious. He had no idea just how much Easy Company had relied on him through Bastogne. He was a pillar, a friend to lean on, to listen to their problems, to offer advice, all while being an exceptional leader. They owed their lives to him. Because without Lipton, Angel was sure she wouldn’t have been able to go on.
“You don’t have any idea who I’m talkin’ about do ya?”
“No, sir.”
“Hell, it was you, First Sergeant.”
As Lipton’s eyebrows raised in surprise, Angel saw - for the first time - a real, genuine smile on Speirs’ face. It made her grin widen even further. Lip was the glue that held them together. Even Speirs - who had run straight through German fire for Easy Company - was acknowledging it. It was all down to Lipton.
“Oh, and you’re not gonna be a first sergeant for much longer, First Sergeant.”
“Sir?”
“Winters put in for a Battlefield commission, and Sink approved on your behalf. You should get the official nod in a few days.”
Angel could have cried.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant.”
Lipton looked like he couldn’t quite believe it, even as Speirs sent him a brief smile before walking away. He was stood motionless for a few seconds, the shock immobilising his limbs.
Lip deserved this.
With Speirs as their new CO, and Lipton getting a Battlefield commission, it seemed that Easy’s darkest days might finally be behind them. Bastogne truly had been hell on Earth, the kind of thing that no one should ever have to endure. Just the shriek of a shell, or the faint whistle of a bullet was enough to strike terror into the hearts of every single soldier in the Bois Jacques woods. Angel had never known anything like it.
She wouldn’t allow herself to relax, even now Dike was gone. War was much too complicated to hope for its end at any point, let alone when it was so close to finally being won. It would only hurt more in the end. Hope could be a very dangerous thing.
But it could also be your salvation.
Band of Brothers Appreciation Week Day 5, One scene ~ Rachamps Church
introducing OFC no. 4, Evangeline Dubois!
introducing OFC no. 5, Isidra Castro!
#band of brothers#easy company#hbo war#band of brothers appreciation week#bobweek#hbowardaily#ronald speirs#carwood lipton
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Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks
Chapter 19: A Festive Farewell
(Click here for chapter 18!)
(Click here to start from the beginning!)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.
There were many reasons why Severus hated Christmas.
To begin with, he loathed most customs associated with the festivity. Gifts were only given out of a sense of obligation, Christmas cards were completely pointless as they only gathered dust for a few weeks before one was able to throw them away without having to feel guilty, and let’s not even mention those annoying Christmas carols. For some reason, people also suddenly seemed to think that the season was the perfect time to get friendly with him and try to involve him in all sorts of “fun” activities – how absurd! And while he normally greatly enjoyed any time he got away from his bothersome pupils, the headmaster still always found a way to ruin it somehow. Not only did the old coot get crazier with his decorations every year, but he also forced Severus to take part in the annual Christmas dinner. However, what the professor found the most ridiculous was that the wizarding world would even celebrate a holiday based on the religious beliefs of Muggles. He could understand how those who grew up in or married into Muggle families might want to carry on those traditions, of course. But these days, even pure-bloods participated, and that was just ludicrous. But if he was being completely honest with himself, he really just disliked anything that reminded him of his childhood in the non-magical world.
This year, however, Severus had a whole new reason to hate Christmas. As one of the school’s Heads of House, this morning he had received a copy of the list of students who wished to stay in the castle over the holidays. But even after reading through it three times, he had not been able to find Hermione’s name on it anywhere; and while he would have never admitted that that was the cause, he had been in a sullen mood ever since. The prospect of not seeing her, of not talking to her for two whole weeks made his heart ache.
At present, the Potions Master was sitting at his desk and quietly watching as his sixth-years were streaming out of his classroom. To give the students enough time to make their way to Hogsmeade Station, the last day of the first term traditionally consisted of only the first period. Once the last pupil had left, Severus got up and walked into the storage room. He always liked to use the holidays to reorganise the small space and get it ready for the next semester.
But only a few minutes later, his work flow was interrupted when he suddenly heard the door to his classroom open. Stepping out of the storage room, he soon laid eyes upon the figure of Hogwarts’ Head Girl. She was standing a few feet away from him in the middle of the empty room, her round face makeup-free and her unruly hair pulled back into a half-updo. It seemed like she was already dressed for the long train ride back to King’s Cross: she was wearing a pair of casual jeans, ankle booties made of leather, a nude sweater and a light blue coat so big that it was threatening to swallow her small frame. As always, she was looking absolutely stunning.
“What are you doing here?” Severus spat. Seeing her now was only making his emotional turmoil worse.
Hermione was obviously taken aback by his reaction. “I came to say goodbye. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I did not sign up to stay over the holidays this year.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” he mumbled under his breath.
She gave him a confused look. “Um, well, I would have told you earlier, but it was kind of a last-minute decision. Yesterday, Ginny persuaded me to spend Christmas with her family at the Burrow, and so I had Professor McGonagall take my name off the list. Harry will be there, too, and I thought that maybe I could use this time to try and patch things up with Ron.”
Argh – whenever he heard that name, Severus could not help but instantly feel annoyed. He was starting to dislike Weasley almost as much as James Potter. He would never understand why someone as smart and amazing as Hermione Granger would want to be friends with a numskull like that.
“But before I leave, I just wanted to give you this.”
Severus watched as she pulled out a small metal tin from the pocket of her coat and handed it to him.
“What is this?” he asked before carefully unfastening the bow tied around it and lifting the lid. “… Biscuits?”
“I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something to show my appreciation, and this was the only thing I could make on such short notice.”
He raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. “You made these?”
“Yes!” She let out a joyous laughter. “The house elves normally don’t let anyone touch their pots and pans, but I guess they’re still a bit terrified of me because of my past S.P.E.W. efforts. As long as I promised not to slip them any socks or hats, they gave me free rein to use their workspace. So this morning before breakfast, I sneaked out of my tower, baked these and used a static charm to keep them warm.”
Severus had to suppress a smirk. Oh yes, he still vividly remembered how she had used to so fiercely campaign for the rights of those magical creatures during her fourth year. It had been a pointless endeavour, of course, as the majority of house elves were submissive by nature and wanted to serve a master; but he still secretly admired her persistence and kind-heartedness. He picked up one of the cookies.
“Mmm,” he said as he took a big bite, a nutty flavour filling his mouth. “I have to admit that these are rather delicious. It seems as though your culinary capabilities are just as good as your brewing skills."
“Thank you for the compliment, sir, but I’m normally quite the disaster in the kitchen, honestly. But thank Merlin that not even a cook as disastrous as me could ever mess up this foolproof recipe from –“ Hermione made an abrupt pause, her smile disappearing from her face. “From my mother.”
The wizard frowned – why was she sad all of a sudden? But before he could ask her about it, the young woman took one look at her watch and immediately gasped.
“Oh no, I’ll have to hurry if I don’t want to miss the train!” Biting her lip, her gaze wandered to the ground. Was she blushing? “But before I say goodbye, there is one more thing I’d like to do …”
Severus eyed his young apprentice with suspicion. As an experienced teacher of well over a decade and a half, he was all too familiar with the look she had on her face – it was the look of a student who was definitely up to something mischievous. But even so, he was not at all prepared for what happened next as Hermione stepped forward and embraced him in a hug so warm it could have melted mid-winter snow.
“I wish you a very happy Christmas, Professor Snape,” she whispered against his chest. “Being able to study under you is and will always be the greatest gift!”
For a split second, Severus was paralysed by the sudden intimacy. But then, one hand around her petite waist and the other entangled in her hair, he pulled her closer.
“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he muttered back, inhaling the clean scent of her perfume.
And as he watched her disappear through the door not even a minute later, his cold, bitter heart felt just a little bit warmer.
(CHAPTER 20 COMING SOON!)
#fanfictionbyusignolo#fanfiction by usignolo masterlist#fanfiction by usignolo#masterlist#usignolo masterlist#usignolo#slytherinknowitall#Slytherin Know-It-All#slow burn#Harry Potter#harry potter fandom#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fanfic#severus snape#severus snape x hermione granger#pro severus snape#Hermione Granger#Hermione Jean Granger#professor snape#professor snape x hermione granger#PFACL#PFACL chapter 19#chapter 19#potion fumes and cauldron leaks#snape lives au#snanger#snamione#snermione#fanfiction#fanfic
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I exploded at him. I don’t do that. But I did that at him. Because for the first time in my life I honestly believe I have every right to be angry. Even now when the anger has been replaced with a steady stream of tears, I still know the anger was justified. He needed to hear what I had to say.
The truth?
The truth is that I’m in love with him. I feel every bit of pain that he feels and if I could, I would take all that pain away from him. The choices he’s making here are not okay. I don’t love him any less because of them and I certainly don’t want him to suffer, but I can’t sit silently and let him continue to treat me like this. I also can’t keep watching him sink deeper into misery over the whole situation. He asked for space to process, not to get more entangled in her web of emotional manipulation, but he has sunk into it again, moving further away from this “peace” he says he so desperately wants. He is torturing himself while paralysed with fear about his decisions and I have the capacity to take that pain away by leaving. If I walk away he no longer has to make a decision and so much of his pain goes away. So I am walking.
So, yes. I exploded at him. And I cut him from my life. Deleted from social media. Because he needs to make a choice he isn’t making. I can’t see him like this and not do something.
My feelings for him haven’t changed, but my capacity to tolerate his learned helplessness has worn out. If I could fix this situation I would. How many times have I said that? I know that if he were here I could take a lot of that pain away because I make him happy. But he doesn’t want to be here. I want him here, but he wants to be with her, continuing the misery, wondering why he can’t find peace. So I have to go. If I go, he will get his peace. He won’t see it that way initially, but once the decision is made for him he will feel relief. So I will do that. I told him that if I could fix this situation for him I would. This is me doing that. I wanted to fix it by being the person he leaned on, but he doesn’t want that. He took that option away from me. So this is how it has to be.
I don’t know if he will understand it or whether he even still cares. His actions make me think that his feelings for me have changed. Whatever the case, as much as it looks like it is anger driving this, it isn’t. Once again it’s coming from a place of love. I care about him too much to let this continue any longer. I can’t see him this tortured and do nothing when there’s something I can do to take that pain away. So I am leaving his life to give him that peace he is searching for and just hoping that one day he will understand that it wasn’t in anger. It was never in anger. I’m leaving because I love him too much to let this continue.
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